We got to Paris and checked into our little room on the top floor of a hostel, with the whole room to ourselves. After Gen almost died of a hangover, we laid down on the floor and ordered delivery food to our door. Then me and Gen watched Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig SNL skits all night. Then, we were unpleasantly surprised as a Brazilian couple came to stay in our room and ruined everything. That night I lay awake listening to the springs bounce and heavy breathing and the sound of bracelets jingling.
This was the straw that broke the Katie's back when it comes to staying in hostels. People are all like "oh but the vibesss" and yeah I guess if you're by yourself, you need friends so you stay in a place with other drunk people. But, one of the things I hate most is forced friendships, and if I don't want to talk to someone, I wont. And after some time of telling people the same fucken stories over and over, you get bored. A lot of travellers hit a point where you just can't really be fucked. Especially if you spend the whole night listening to your "potential friends" give and receive oral sex. (Ps if it's not oral sex like no mouths were involved what is it called? Hand sex? I dunno watever.)
The next day, it was finally time to use the hostel internet to upload my Spain video. But since that internet was still 2002 dial up internet, it was taking foooorever so I left it up on my computer and me and Gen left to go do this thing we called "speed sight seeing." Both Gen and I had been to Paris before, so the necessity of actually going inside any of the tourist attractions was 0%. In one day, we went to Notre Dame and took a selfie out the front. Then we walked over this bridge that we just assumed was the Love Lock bridge coz it had all these locks on it, and then later found out that it wasn't it was just another rando bridge, but we put locks on for our boyfriends anyway (<3) (which is super lame but when in Paris ammi right) Then we hit the outside of the Louvre, took a selfie underneath the Eiffel Tower and then later that night stopped outside the Moulin Rouge. Which is HILARIOUS because we were like "oh if theres a show for like 20 euros we'll go in..." and then we get outside and look at the poster thing and the cheapest show for the week was like 130 euros, omg. so naive.
Also, that night me and Gen met up with our french friend, Charles, creatively nicknamed "french guy" who we hadn't seen in a year. We had dinner at this really good place, except I did find a price tag in my pasta so I was allowed desert for free which was awesome. After working in hospitality for 5 years, I understand that shit goes wrong sometimes and a lot of the time I really don't give a fuck. Especially since we also ordered a plate of snails. And we ate them! My friends call me food ignorant because I have really bland taste pallets and I would be contented eating baby food for the rest of my life, but I don't think it's because I'm ignorant, I'm inexperienced. When I was a child, if I didn't like something I would spit it out and scream until I was handed a piece of margarita pizza or a Mcdonald's cheese burger. As a consequence, my mother never gave me anything she thought I wouldn't like. Therefor, I didn't know what halloumi was until about May this year and I'd never eaten anything that constitutes the "thai" cuisine.
Anyway, yeah I ate a snail. There's a video of it. I pick up the snail with these tongs that made me feel like Edward Scissorhands and I slide the snail into my mouth. My face is scrunched in anticipation of disgust, however after a few chews I look into the camera and say "Oh, it's alright. Oh it's actually fine. It's quite nice. Tastes like chicken." And that's all good, but then you start psyching yourself out, thinking about the texture which feels you're eating a big giant loogie and then everything turns awful and you spit it out into your napkin and curse yourself for ordering a bowl of twelve snails.
That night, I experienced a feeling of most inner turmoil, as if a storm had brewed inside of me and lightening struck my heart and my stomach sank out through my butt and I am still recovering from this experience until this very day. We get back to the hostel, and I turn on my laptop. The operating system is missing. My computer some-fucking-how DELETED EVERYTHING. All my photos. All my videos. All my work from Italy. All my music. My movies. Everything. I was left with a blank skeleton of a computer. But since I'm in fucking France I can't do anything about it because I don't speak French. That was the day my computer died. RIP. So, my Spain video I made never saw the light of Youtube and I will never see Shlomo's set at Lowlands that we strategically videoed so it didn't matter that we were too fucked up to remember it. It's all gone, still to this day. Everything is gone. I still haven't fully restocked my famous iTunes playlists, they are yet to be made again.
To cheer me up, me and Gen planned a day to Versailles. Which has been one of my favourite places in the whole world since I first went there in 2008. This was when my parents took me to Europe with them, on a trip they would think I'd appreciate. However, I don't have any siblings or cousins my age. So, I spent the whole month on some kind of Contiki tour for middle-aged historians and it was so fucking boring. I vowed to myself I would never step into another Medieval Castle or Ye Old Battleship ever again. It was the holiday of a lifetime if I was about 40 years older. I spent the whole month talking to myself and doing things I didn't want to do. One night, my parents and my auntie and uncle invited me along to a romantic dinner along the river Seine and I told them to fuck off bc I wanted to stay home and watch Dude, Where's My Car? for the 175th time. I was too young and too bored to appreciate the historical and cultural value of Europe, and I would have much preferred to go somewhere like America where all I have to do is eat McDonalds and go to theme parks. Anyway, the only place that actually entertained me was Versailles. It's this huge extravagant glamorous Palace, where Marie Antoinette had her own retreat park built for only her and her friends. If someone asks me the question, if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? and it would undoubtably be Versailles. That day, me and Gen dressed as "ladies" and had a wonderfully pleasant time.
On our last night, we sat in front of the Eiffel Tower and watched in awe as the lights twinkled for so long I might have had an epileptic fit. It was really, really nice. That was another strange "I'm in Europe" kind of thing. All and all, this series of days was essentially a romantic getaway for Gen and I, as two girls who are often mistaken for lesbians in "the City of Love."
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