May 18, 9 pm
Arrive at hostel after lugging backpack through the rain, following iffy directions from GoogleMaps. Reception informs me that instead of two nights I've booked in the eight-bed mixed dormitory, I've been assigned one night in a six-bed female dorm and one night in the mixed, which means I'll have to check out in the morning, shove all my stuff into a locker in the hostel basement, and then re-check-in in the evening.
The sole consolation I get from the receptionist: "Usually the six-bed room is more expensive, but we'll only charge you for two nights in the eight-bed dorm." You'll only charge me for the services I actually ordered?! Wow, that's big of you. Thanks.
9:15 pm
Arrive in room to find that bed A, the bed I've been assigned, is taken. Bed C appears to be the only available bed in the room. So I take bed C.
May 19, 1:25 am
Awoken by hostel employee shoving some sort of check-in paperwork in my face and demanding "Is this you?!" in French. The form belongs to the person who apparently belongs in bed C. I summon all the French I have available in my mentally muddled state and try to explain the situation. Considering that I had been fully unconscious not one minute earlier, I think I do a pretty good job. Hostel guy is unimpressed and says--rather snottily in my opinion--"En fait, le lit etait disponible," which means, "In fact, the bed WAS available."
Oh, was it really? Sorry, it's clearly MY fault that no one changed the bed and it therefore appeared to be in use. I should have used my PSYCHIC POWERS. My bad.
1:30 am
Hostel guy goes to get fresh sheets for the other bed for the girl who was supposed to be in bed C, and I check the time and promptly freak out because I think it's 1:30 in the afternoon and that I overslept by six hours. (In my defense, the room was very brightly lit and I HAD BEEN UNCONSCIOUS FIVE MINUTES AGO.) Once I figure out it's 1:30 am (after the other people in the room enlightened me to this fact) I crawl back under the covers, now both a time-telling dunce AND a bed-stealing jerk.
8:30 am
Oversleep.
9:30 am
Set off for the Catacombs, the one thing I want to do most in Paris--and possibly on this trip. You can't get me down, Paris! I still have the Catacombs! (OMINOUS FORESHADOWING)
10:00 am
Metro police kick everybody off the metro because the line is going out of service due to construction. Were there signs about this? Sure, but they all said the line wouldn't be affected until four or five stops later. Good one, France.
10:05 am
After many flights of stairs and two MOVING WALKWAYS I finally make it to the subway platform of the line to which I'm transferring, just in time to see the train pull away. Fabulous!
10:12 am
FINALLY get on the right metro. Catacombs, here I come!
10:25 am
Start wandering around the square looking for the Catacombs, which are supposed to be RIGHT THERE.
10:35 am
Still wandering, but on a boulevard now.
10:45 am
STILL wandering, and now I'm nearly back where I started. Time to pull out the map.
10:50 am
Found them!
10:50:30 am
Found the sign that says "The Catacombs will be closed Sunday, May 19." There is no explanation offered.
10:51 am
Fighting the uncontrollable urge to cry in public in front of strangers. Also zipping through the five stages of grief, except I keep getting stalled on anger and denial and seem unable to land on acceptance. This was the thing I wanted to do most on this trip! It was basically the reason I came to Paris, and I checked the hours of operation a million times! This cannot be happening!
11:00 am
Stalk back to the metro station, quite tempted to just go back to the hostel and nap forever. Decide to check out a Sunday market, swing by the Mosquée de Paris (Paris Mosque) which is supposed to be pretty cool and unique, then go to Sainte Chapelle if I'm feeling up to it. I give myself full permission to mope and wallow in self pity once these things are done.
11:15 am
Sitting sulkily on the subway, I become convinced that I am going to be mugged today, because hey, why not? Also that I am going to miss my flight tomorrow, lose my passport, and spend the rest of my trip in the American Embassy trying to get my life together.
11:30 am
Arrive at market. Eat a pretty good galette (a savory crepe, basically). Am feeling a bit better.
12:25 pm
Start wandering around, casually searching for the mosque, which is in the same neighborhood as the market.
12:45 pm
Found it! There it is, towering about a block or two away.
12:55 pm
Oh hey, can I check out the mosque? NO, because it's closed from 12-2. What the actual hell. What is this day?!
By 1:00 I had lost all faith in Paris. As far as I was concerned, it sucked. Worst city on the planet, and it obviously hated me. But 1:00 proved to be a turning point. Don't worry, this story has a happy ending!
Well, happyish. Spoiler alert, I never get to see the Catacombs. But I get to see some pretty cool other stuff. That story (with pictures!) will be posted soon.
Until then, let's leave me sitting forlornly on a bench in the Jardin des Plantes under a cloudy sky. It's more dramatic to end that way.
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