Parisian misdemeanors

So right in the middle of the French fall academic calendar is the Toussaint (All saints) vacation, a two-week break to celebrate saints or something equally vague, not really sure. Anyway, I was living life and this vacation was coming up and my friends were making ELABORATE preparations. There were plans to hit up Rome, Brussels, Venice, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Madrid, and even freaking Marrakech, Morocco!!!! (Travel here can be ridiculously cheap). But me, sister from Ghana whose passport can’t get her anywhere without a visa, I didn’t have anything fancy planned, I was just gonna go to Paris. Everyone else was excited and it was all that was talked about. In conversation I was often asked:

“Soooo whachu doing for Toussaint, Debbie?”
I would smile brightly and with equal vigor reply, ‘I’m going to Pareeee!”
Tone would drop. “Ohh but we’ve all already been to Paris together?”
Got any other bright ideas for me homie I wouId think, but reply, “Yeah but you know, I LOVEDDDD Paris.”
Person would continue: “So you’re like… gonna be there… for like… the whole 10 daays,” would cock an eyebrow, “wow, you must really love Paris then?”
I would flash a sunny smile.
And so and so forth this conversation, day after day after the day till the day of the vacation when I left for Paris to spend 10 days, ten glorious days living it up in gay Paree. I stayed with one of my best friends from high school Dayva, she’s studying in Paris for a year.

So I got to Paris in two hours, super fast on the TGV (train de grand vitesse aka very very fast train) and Dayva met me at the Gare de l’est de Paris. It was such a joyful and noisy reunion; we hadn’t seen each other in two years. We were EXCITED: “OMG I love the hair... ouuu you’re lookin’ good… wow your cheeks grew fat… mehnn your butt hasn’t shrunk….etc etc.” We were free, we were young and we were in Paree! It was rather late when I got in, some time after 9pm. That night the city felt magical… like something was gonna happen: the stars were extra bright, the moon was super blue, everything was bathed in light and the time just flew. We didn’t stay out for long before moving on home.

Our first adventure was that night…

So apparently in Paris paying for transportation is NOT a big deal, you can do it, you cannot, nobody really cares and they hardly check, only once in a blue moon. As Dayva explained this lax control system for transportation, I was excited, hehehe I was gonna save mucho on transportation, why pay when I didn’t have to, the city is tooo darn expensive as it is!!

So here’s how it works: on the metro you back up against someone and enter the till as they do, it can be a perfect stranger it doesn’t even matter. You just ask them and you follow them in. Then you say thank you and go off your way. For the bus, you just walk on bonjourrrrr the driver and sit. No probs, no questions asked. There’s no problem unless the moon is blue and the controllers come around to check.

Dayva had a ticket on her, it was a one day ticket with which she had been moving all day. She told me she didn’t think I needed to get a ticket since it was late, we were going straight home and really, nobody cared. The moon was blue in Paris. I happily obliged, thinking hehehe girl you don’t need to tell me twice. I was so cool as I stole into the metro, smoother than a pro, same with the bus. Dayva and I chatted the whole way, nosily and non-stop, in English, twi, pidgin, French, gossiping about everything and everyone, you know us girls.

Then… just 2 more minutes to the end of our ride, one more stop and we would have been home, some tough looking lady and guys get on the bus. I only spared them a seconds glance before carrying on with my animated conversation loudly and excitedly, hands in the air, gesturing all over. When suddenly the atmosphere in the bus changed and there was some commotion behind me. I turned to see what was up and yes I did see what was UP, what was up the nose of the dude standing right behind me bellowing and landing a thousand germs on my face: “EXCUSEZ-MOI, ticket!”

Shoot, ahhhh I was so confused, what to do what to do what to do, brother looked mean, mess mess mess ahhhhhhhhh! I looked around me, shaking my head left and right as I thought quickly. The blue moon was still shining brightly outside. Ah then I suddenly remembered that I had some old used tickets from my last Paris trip. “Oui teekay,” I said nervously to the mean man, “right,” and I dug into my overnight bag, foraging through my unmentionables, looking for those darned tickets. “Ahhh teekay eh, un moment,” I said again looking up at the man who was now puffing smoke from his nose, not appreciating my stalling.

At this point the bus was at our stop, waiting for me to get off because Dayva had one feet out on the ground for me and nobody was amused by my antics, not the ticket holders, not even my fellow culprit non-ticket holders! Finally I found the old, soiled, tattered ticket, whipped it out with a smile, and the man barely looked at it before pulling his ticket book, “alors Madame tu paies 40 Euros! ” Aiiiiii Master, I thought. But more seriously what is it about Paris and draining me of cash?(ref to penniless in paree). Anyway I didn’t pay that night, made a million excuses and took the ticket. I got mail last week and guess what? Ticket’s risen to 60 euros, Ssweet!!! That was night one in Paris.

So much more…to be continued very soon. Will try and be shorter though cos I know y’all don’t have too much time.