My Time In Paris Part 1

I lived. Paris is beautiful, overwhelming, and worthy of the dream. My first day, however, proved a bit more challenging than I would have preferred, but what a story ...

I arrive and find that the Metro Line to my hotel was "closed" due to construction. Now, I need to explain that I had studied the Metro map for days before leaving, memorizing my route, receiving detailed instructions on how to get around from my parents. I was ready. My first line, I get on my train as planned and exit where I need to. At this point was anxiety is not too severe since I made it past the first test. But, and this is a BIG but, when I go to get on the next train, I look up at the information that each train car has ... and I notice that Line 8 has a lovely little X through it ... yes, my thought is very honest here so excuse my language ... "what the fuck" -- I promise to avoid such language in the future but my blog has to be honest and that is what I said. All those hours of studying, of gaining confidence, gone with an X. So I paused, for quite a bit, I'm certain. And I took out the handy, but rather small Metro map that my mom had printed for me, and I had to go to Plan B. I honestly wanted to just give up and take a taxi, but I didn't and that was the best decision I could have made ... my thought then, "You go, Krista ... seize the day." I did ... what an accomplishment for a woman who is claustrophobic and a little afraid of subways!

So once I found my hotel, I was set to see Paris, starting with the Rodin Museum, the one museum I wanted to see: The Thinker, The Kiss, The Gates of Hell ... this is where the story takes on another tragic, but comical twist. I arrive, wait for 30 minutes in line, and when I go to pay with my new credit card, the company I had contacted before I left to tell them I would be traveling to Europe,it is declined, not because of my credit, but because of a fraud alert. [insert reactionary line from above here]. No problem ... I have 300 dollars in my purse ...no, wait, it's American bills, not Euros. In fact, I only have enough Euros to take a bus or Metro, not to pay for the museum, or worse, not to eat. Feel free to imagine the panic I momentarily feel at this time, the overwhelming since of being an Americanin Paris with no means to do anything. (I did have crackers and some nuts in my backpack, so I wouldn't starve.) Once calmed, I knew I had to simply find a place to exchange my money, an easy task in The Netherlands, but it was Sunday, a holiday in Paris, etc. so such is not the case in Paris.