one week in

Everything's been up and down so far, so I'll go through the week.

Saturday I arrived exhausted to find that my hostel is one of the crappest areas of town. Missing home desperately I searched for an internet connection that couldn't be found, until eventually making it to a pub which had working wifi. Was also chatter up by a boy called Kevin, who was on a scooter. Not like a moped or anything, oh no. A scooter. As in, one that you push along with your feet when your a kid. Crazy times, but fairly normal in Paris. Women walking alone get used to the calls of "Bonjour" and winks from men on street corners, in bars, cafes, door entrances, everywhere.

After a fairly disasterous first night there has been an upturn. The first film I've seen here "Les Derniers jours du monde" was a bloody classic and halarious. A cross between a romcom and end of the world sci-fi drama. That evening I was introduced to "Papa Sean" (Or papa smurf as everyone calls him) a fairly creepy man who makes friends with all the youths of the youth hostel. The actual youths themselves are cool. Most of them have left now, apart from Laine, who has moved to Paris permanently, despite not speaking a word of French, to become a chef.
The majority are travellers and travelling alone. One, paul, from England, has been travelling for years, working music festivals. I haven't seen sean since last wednessday. The last thing he said to me was "I'm going to meet my friend at Republique (the metro station)". We assume he checked out without saying bye. But it's strange and unnerving how he dissappeared without a trace and we all accepted it.

Monday allowed me to do some of the touristy stuff - the Eiffel Tower, L'Arc de Triomphe, Louvre, Champs Eelyses. I saw street dancers and sat on top of the metro station facing l'arc, amazed by the peacfullness of the moment.

This was soon ruined as two disturbing experiences made me appreaciate what it's like being a single girl in paris. To begin with, a Sri Lankan man of about 40 began speaking to me, asking where I was from etc.  All very normal and friendly. Then he started to ask my to go for a coffee with him - and offered me a place to stay with him in his house. I made excuses and left.
Instead I went to Rochefort, in the Pigalle area - the red light district, to join in the music festival. As I left the metro station several men attempted to sell me ciggarettes. I tried to do the dumb tourist thing, and one began to follow me down the road, talking to me. He began asking me to meet up with him, for my number, where I stayed...I kept saying to him "Non non non, je ne suis pas interessee" and he became more insistent and threatening. I then said that I was returning to my hostel and I was tired. He went with my to the metro station, putting his arm round me and referring to my as "Mon Cherie" ignoring me when I pushed him off. He followed me onto the bloody metro for chrissakes! So I completely paniced, especially since he didn't seem to understand at all why I didn't want to get to know this complete stranger in the middle of the paris red light district. So I phonedMatthieu (French assisstant. Luckilly the guy spoke very little english and didn't know what I was saying) I have absolutely no idea what I expected him to do, being several thousand miles awayin Metz, but I think I just needed to hear a familiar voice. So that sorta calmed me down and |I formed a plan involving me disguising myself with a hat and jacket I had in my bag, hair down, hood up. Next stop I jumped off and ran like hell. Like a scene out of a movie.

That and a near pickpocketing off a romanian man have been my most terrifying experiences in France so far. The thing which has really struck me the most is the extremity in Paris. Some areas, especially around the Latin Quater, and places like the La Pere Lachaise and Sacre Coeur, are indescribeably beautiful, like nothing I have ever seen. But at the same time there's so much poverty, dirt and homelessness, worse than in Glasgow. Beneath the scorching sunlight and high cost of living, it;s easy to see how people become homeless in paris. If you don;t have money then your broke. Out on the streets. And when a 50 cl bottle of water can cost up to 2 Euros, it's very easy to lose track.

The people so far have been pretty cool, but especially the Dutch, who left this morning. Halarious and souls of the party, and bloody good drinkers too! Yesterday I went on my first night out in paris, with 3 New York boys - one German American, one Italian American and one Brazilian American. They are increadibly funny and extremely nice guys. Oh, and Laine just came in and used my arms to dry his hands. Gotta love him. All and all the first week has been fairly good. Let's hope things are on the up.

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