We jumped on the metro, going back to the station where we hoped to take a bench and catch a few winks before our first train in London. We had known since the start of our European hiking adventure that we would be in Paris without a place to stay at the end of our trip, but we thought why not just sleeping at the station, we heard during our trips that many others had done, how bad it could be?
When we returned to the station, it was just after 11 p.m. The station looked quite eliminated and with various rampant “foreigners”, and not a security guard in sight. He headed for the lockers to collect our bags. Oh no !! The place closed at 11:15 p.m. and it was now 11:25 p.m. – CR # P! When was he covered? 6:15 am when was our train planned to leave? 6:22 am. Oh, my boy, not good !! Again, we looked for a security guard or staff, but to no avail. We checked when the Eurostar opened. 5:55 am. It gave us 27 minutes to get our tickets, take our bags and get on the train! It was going to be a crazy rush, like an episode of Amazing Race! So many questions and fears invaded our thoughts. Would we have obtained our tickets in time? Will we be able to collect our bags in time for our train?
We went up the escalator to find a bench. There did not seem to be a real living room, only these cold, silver and slippery benches that culminated in the center making us continue to slide. But we tried to calm down and relax – that’s where we fascinated at night, so we better become comfortable. But with six hours to go, we did not feel too confident about our current situation – two 20 -year -old young women spending their first night in a station.
Then we were approached by a strong man, strangely dressed in business outfit, without identity labels or pins to say that he was working in the name of the station, nor of someone else. He seemed pretty nice at first, with at least a little English. He asked us if we needed an help or a place to stay, we tried to tell him that we were going well. He warned us that the station was not safe to stay. The more he spoke to us, the more we wanted to go out. We got up to leave and he continued to follow us and “try” to help us with elusive responses and French rise. At that time, we were extremely uncomfortable with its incessant chatter and curiosity. We decided, it was not for us and we did not want to spend the night at the station. We decided to pool our remaining euros together to try to get a cheap bed in a hotel. But where? We went to the doors and entered a long line of people waiting for taxis. It was not going to help. We had no idea where to go and we were directed to the dark streets of Paris, at that time really on the edge, nervous and about to panic or cry. We turned to the main street and were surrounded by illuminated panels for hotels everywhere. There must be a bed somewhere! We tried a lot, some complete and far too expensive for us. Then we fell with an available room and it corresponds to our small budget. The lady asked how many beds, and in unison, we projected “one”. We pushed a sigh closely with small relief, telling us that we were far from the station, far from the scary guy and that we were going to be safe. It still seemed difficult to believe.
We took the narrow, winding wooden stairs to the second floor and found our room 209. It was probably the luxury that we had since started our European support adventure where the hostels were our houses, a simple single bedroom and a private bathroom with a wardrobe and a mini-chaise. But we could not take advantage of it, we were too busy thinking about what to put in front of the door, or considering sleeping in the shower. We planned to put the chair in front of the door, it did not work. Should we put the wardrobe in front of the door? We crawled in our bed, we sat stressed, pressed together, under the sheets marked by cigarettes. The lights remained on and we looked at each other and tried to calm down. In a way, sleep found us.
At 5 a.m., our alarm woke us upon none morning. With nothing to take other than ourselves and our handbags, we returned to the station. It was 5:20 am when we arrived and we headed directly to the lockers. No one was there. And still no staff anywhere in view among the few people who move away, in the sleeping eyes, while waiting for their trains. We decided that Stacey was going to wait in the line of tickets (while people started to fill) and I took the stairs, then the escalator and on the lockers to wait. At 5:50 am, a lady came, I tried to see if she let me get our bags before opening. It was firm and hard, and categorical that I await that security will happen. Then Stacey came with the tickets. We looked at the lady and security removing their jackets with casualness and discussed. Listen to the guys, the weather is essence here !! Our minds have shouted.
Finally, at 6:05 am, they let us enter and we rushed to collect our packs from our lockers and load our things and run upstairs, launch tickets, control passports and to the train. Ah! Sigh of relief. We were in our seats, with our business and on the way to London. It didn’t take me long to settle in my seat and fall asleep from exhaustion.
**It was from our first trip abroad and a memory that we now cherish for his obvious nonsense of exaggerated stress that our spirits made a situation relatively easy to become something of a horror film (like perhaps Hostel that I made my friend watch before leaving). With hindsight, we look at our madness and we would not change anything of that white night in Paris.
Have you spent a night like this? I would love to hear about it in the comments below!
