The romantic city...
August 10th 2007 01:40
February 2002.
The week off from high school was not wasted this time round, like it normally is. I went to France with my History class. I wanted to write about it because it was so good I never want to forget it. So, about 40/50 people went on the trip this time round. I went last year also, it was the same kind of adventure with the same kind of people. It was somehow different this time round though, I don’t really know why. 2001 was still pretty cool, the hostel we stayed in was a dump, the food was terrible (FLAN), and the rooms were untidy, with blood on some of the mattresses, but I have honestly never laughed so much in my entire life. It was the small things in 2001 that made it so special. Not to mention Dave the bus driver. Dave, was, and hopefully still is, the best guy in the universe. Clearly a family man, he bantered with us, yet remained mysterious, like a dragon. Paris was good too. More of Paris in a little while. It was also the time where I got to know Harry Hampton as well as I did. I had had him as my form tutor from the start of year 10, and for RE also, but I’d never gotten to know him outside of the classroom. He is one of my heroes, and he got me through some tough times in high school, with exams and that, he was a calming influence. It was a great trip, and I made some new friends even.
As you may see from that, Paris 2002 had a lot to live up to. There have been few events prior to 2001 that I enjoyed more. However, due to our persistent requests to our teachers, Dave was back. Things started perfectly. The early morning wasn’t great though, 5am? I can’t really remember, but it was almost forsaken by the rules of school holidays. Holidays are for sleeping, and possibly eating way too much and getting confused by 15 to 1. Shockingly, Dave didn’t remember any of us, so he was quite surprised when I shouted his name, ran up to him (bags slung over my shoulders, half expecting a hug) and asked if he remembered me asking for his autograph the year before. He wisely smiled, and replied with a casual, ’I’m afraid not my young friend’. He took my bag like a gentleman though, if not with a confused frown upon his ‘brows.
I was stood with Leon and Danny Bailey for a while, who were in my Drama class. We were all tired, but excited. Danny hasn’t got the whole internet thing yet, and I haven’t seen him in a long time, but he was one of my closest friends in high school, and a damn good actor too. I was one of the first onto the coach when it arrived. I was sat with Leanne Roche, the (then) new girlfriend of Gaz, my best friend in high school. I didn’t even try to touch her up on the coach. TRUE FRIENDSHIP. Luke was sat opposite me, Ciz and Mark in front, Nicola, Katie, Nikita and Amanda behind. I was pretty good friends with most of them so I was reasonably merry with the seating situation. Most of everyone of the coach was asleep for the first few hours. Luke was listening to Rammstein all the live long day bless him. I had my CD player too, I don’t like to sleep much on coaches. We were off to France!
We arrived at the first hotel late that evening. The ferry trip was less than evenful. Mark, Ciaran and myself spent most of the trip in the arcades. Much of the night wasn’t written about in the draft form high school, so memories are a little vague. It was a massive room, fitting 8 of us in. Total sausage fest though, there can’t be any rumpy pumpy between the girls and boys at night time. It was literally like the 18th century and strict parents mixed together. Lots of puberty ridden testosterone was flying about in the air that night. It was fun though, there is a picture of Mark, which I don’t have with me, that still makes me laugh more than any other photo in the world, ill try and get it online. Ciaran and me also told everyone we were going to stay awake all night. More to the point (I think even to this day) people actually believed we did. I think we stayed up about 20 minutes longer than everyone else did, and got up about 20 minutes before everybody else did. Magic. The next day was also seldom written about. I don’t think many people enjoyed it. All I mention is feeling a little depressed about how many cemeteries there are in France, and how many people died for us. Not only were the mini field trips boring and unsettling, but they reminded us all about how fragile life is.
So it was a welcome (and applauded) announcement when Dave called down the speaker system, “We’re in Paris!” I had a feeling everything was going to be honkey dory from then on. It was a little shaky at first, as the hotel was a sham. It was a 3 star hotel, the same hotel we’d stayed in the year before, but it was being completely redecorated, so the smell of paint was rather apparent. The food was also less than desireable, uncooked chicken being the main course in many cases. The room was good though, and I was with Mark and Ciaran once again. The first night in Paris was, infact, a personal disaster. It started off being cold, and I went out, for some immature reason, in a t-shirt. Three separate people told me to go and put a coat on. Stubborn I was, and I went without. Ten minutes into the walk into Paris, it started to pour with rain like I had never seen before, never mind been in the middle of. I was drenched. There was a 10% I would have caught hypothermia that night it was so bad. What a silly boy. I remember Luke, Nikita and even Mr Roe offering their coats, but I was too polite (STUBBORN) to accept any of them. We got home, and I had a long hot shower. Lovely stuff.
The next day we visited the main part of Paris. There was a Japanese man that was dancing in the middle of the square for no apparent reason but for his own pleasure. It amused me greatly. I also bought some very infamous glasses. Being in total awe of Johnny Knoxville at the time, I wanted some thick rimmed glasses. I found some for a pound, took the lenses out, and wore the hell out of them. Everyone seemed to like them. Kelly Bradford practically stole them and took HUNDREDS [complete exaggeration-but that’s what it says-so it is the truth] of photo’s, one of them even appearing in the year 11 leavers booklet. (I stood on the glasses by accident in my first year of college, I nearly cried). The second and last night in Paris was to be the best night I had ever had. I had learnt form my lesson, putting four layers of clothing on. I decided to stick up my ( comparatively very short) hair, and put my immature glasses on. We left the hotel at about 8pm to get onto the subway. We got off just outside the main high street. It took us a while to get to Paris, but I was in good company and the night was going perfectly. I walked with Amanda to the subway, and chatted away with her and a few others on the train. We went firstly to the art de triumph. It was…closed. The mini excursion was more or less cancelled therefore. Pictures were took, the boys stayed with the boys, girls with the girls. Very high school like. So we all went on our way to the centre of Paris. I walked in with Danny and Nik, who had broken up not long ago, so I was using pretend scissors to cut the tension. The mood was good though, and I left them to it. I figured if those two were going to hit it off again, Pariiiiii would be the place to do it.
We all ended up in Macdonalds, as were we so cultured. I wasn’t really hungry. I asked for a beer instead, I got a chocolate milkshake. I sat with Jason and another, and I ate more fries than everyone else did, somehow. I guess my glasses gave me the respect of a king. The atmosphere was so nice though, almost electric. I felt as if I had no problems in the world, just like in primary school. I felt like I wanted to fly…I didn’t try though, I would just have looked like a small child, from primary school infact, making areoplane noises with my arms spread wide, running round like a lunatic. It wouldn’t have been attractive, even to the French. We came out of Maccies, and I felt like time had slowed. I walked with Nikita for a while. There was a man selling roses. I nearly got caught up in the moment and bought some, but I must have decided I was too immature for all of that, and carried on walking. As we approached the subway station it started to snow. I was in my own world by this time, maybe I had a beer too many after all. But I was happy.
The story kinda ended there. There was no mention of the ferry ride home, which saw half of the boat throw up due to turbulence. Nor did it mention the farewell on the bus, an emotional picture with Dave at the last stop off before home, him still looking quite unsure about who I was, and an encounter with a new arcade game which involved electricity and PAIN. All of which are distant memories now, but they still linger politely. I did write something else afterwards though. It surprised me when I read it a few hours ago, as it was quite un-immature. I think it’s clear to see that my personal impression of myself back then is not a high one, and I have changed so much since then. Still, I was who I was and I don’t regret it much, I said in my journal that writing (in this case) is such a poor way of portraying my true feelings and emotions that I have from that night. That period of my life was amongst the greatest ever. Words, whilst imperfect, have such meaning today, and if written correctly, can have more impact than 1,000 pictures. That romantic city is a special one.
I’ll leave it there. I could have spoken about certain people a lot more, like in the first draft, but I’ve chosen not to. I hope, for everyone I tag in this, it will bring back some lovely memories of high school and that trip to Paris.
III
The week off from high school was not wasted this time round, like it normally is. I went to France with my History class. I wanted to write about it because it was so good I never want to forget it. So, about 40/50 people went on the trip this time round. I went last year also, it was the same kind of adventure with the same kind of people. It was somehow different this time round though, I don’t really know why. 2001 was still pretty cool, the hostel we stayed in was a dump, the food was terrible (FLAN), and the rooms were untidy, with blood on some of the mattresses, but I have honestly never laughed so much in my entire life. It was the small things in 2001 that made it so special. Not to mention Dave the bus driver. Dave, was, and hopefully still is, the best guy in the universe. Clearly a family man, he bantered with us, yet remained mysterious, like a dragon. Paris was good too. More of Paris in a little while. It was also the time where I got to know Harry Hampton as well as I did. I had had him as my form tutor from the start of year 10, and for RE also, but I’d never gotten to know him outside of the classroom. He is one of my heroes, and he got me through some tough times in high school, with exams and that, he was a calming influence. It was a great trip, and I made some new friends even.
We arrived at the first hotel late that evening. The ferry trip was less than evenful. Mark, Ciaran and myself spent most of the trip in the arcades. Much of the night wasn’t written about in the draft form high school, so memories are a little vague. It was a massive room, fitting 8 of us in. Total sausage fest though, there can’t be any rumpy pumpy between the girls and boys at night time. It was literally like the 18th century and strict parents mixed together. Lots of puberty ridden testosterone was flying about in the air that night. It was fun though, there is a picture of Mark, which I don’t have with me, that still makes me laugh more than any other photo in the world, ill try and get it online. Ciaran and me also told everyone we were going to stay awake all night. More to the point (I think even to this day) people actually believed we did. I think we stayed up about 20 minutes longer than everyone else did, and got up about 20 minutes before everybody else did. Magic. The next day was also seldom written about. I don’t think many people enjoyed it. All I mention is feeling a little depressed about how many cemeteries there are in France, and how many people died for us. Not only were the mini field trips boring and unsettling, but they reminded us all about how fragile life is.
So it was a welcome (and applauded) announcement when Dave called down the speaker system, “We’re in Paris!” I had a feeling everything was going to be honkey dory from then on. It was a little shaky at first, as the hotel was a sham. It was a 3 star hotel, the same hotel we’d stayed in the year before, but it was being completely redecorated, so the smell of paint was rather apparent. The food was also less than desireable, uncooked chicken being the main course in many cases. The room was good though, and I was with Mark and Ciaran once again. The first night in Paris was, infact, a personal disaster. It started off being cold, and I went out, for some immature reason, in a t-shirt. Three separate people told me to go and put a coat on. Stubborn I was, and I went without. Ten minutes into the walk into Paris, it started to pour with rain like I had never seen before, never mind been in the middle of. I was drenched. There was a 10% I would have caught hypothermia that night it was so bad. What a silly boy. I remember Luke, Nikita and even Mr Roe offering their coats, but I was too polite (STUBBORN) to accept any of them. We got home, and I had a long hot shower. Lovely stuff.
The next day we visited the main part of Paris. There was a Japanese man that was dancing in the middle of the square for no apparent reason but for his own pleasure. It amused me greatly. I also bought some very infamous glasses. Being in total awe of Johnny Knoxville at the time, I wanted some thick rimmed glasses. I found some for a pound, took the lenses out, and wore the hell out of them. Everyone seemed to like them. Kelly Bradford practically stole them and took HUNDREDS [complete exaggeration-but that’s what it says-so it is the truth] of photo’s, one of them even appearing in the year 11 leavers booklet. (I stood on the glasses by accident in my first year of college, I nearly cried). The second and last night in Paris was to be the best night I had ever had. I had learnt form my lesson, putting four layers of clothing on. I decided to stick up my ( comparatively very short) hair, and put my immature glasses on. We left the hotel at about 8pm to get onto the subway. We got off just outside the main high street. It took us a while to get to Paris, but I was in good company and the night was going perfectly. I walked with Amanda to the subway, and chatted away with her and a few others on the train. We went firstly to the art de triumph. It was…closed. The mini excursion was more or less cancelled therefore. Pictures were took, the boys stayed with the boys, girls with the girls. Very high school like. So we all went on our way to the centre of Paris. I walked in with Danny and Nik, who had broken up not long ago, so I was using pretend scissors to cut the tension. The mood was good though, and I left them to it. I figured if those two were going to hit it off again, Pariiiiii would be the place to do it.
We all ended up in Macdonalds, as were we so cultured. I wasn’t really hungry. I asked for a beer instead, I got a chocolate milkshake. I sat with Jason and another, and I ate more fries than everyone else did, somehow. I guess my glasses gave me the respect of a king. The atmosphere was so nice though, almost electric. I felt as if I had no problems in the world, just like in primary school. I felt like I wanted to fly…I didn’t try though, I would just have looked like a small child, from primary school infact, making areoplane noises with my arms spread wide, running round like a lunatic. It wouldn’t have been attractive, even to the French. We came out of Maccies, and I felt like time had slowed. I walked with Nikita for a while. There was a man selling roses. I nearly got caught up in the moment and bought some, but I must have decided I was too immature for all of that, and carried on walking. As we approached the subway station it started to snow. I was in my own world by this time, maybe I had a beer too many after all. But I was happy.
The story kinda ended there. There was no mention of the ferry ride home, which saw half of the boat throw up due to turbulence. Nor did it mention the farewell on the bus, an emotional picture with Dave at the last stop off before home, him still looking quite unsure about who I was, and an encounter with a new arcade game which involved electricity and PAIN. All of which are distant memories now, but they still linger politely. I did write something else afterwards though. It surprised me when I read it a few hours ago, as it was quite un-immature. I think it’s clear to see that my personal impression of myself back then is not a high one, and I have changed so much since then. Still, I was who I was and I don’t regret it much, I said in my journal that writing (in this case) is such a poor way of portraying my true feelings and emotions that I have from that night. That period of my life was amongst the greatest ever. Words, whilst imperfect, have such meaning today, and if written correctly, can have more impact than 1,000 pictures. That romantic city is a special one.
I’ll leave it there. I could have spoken about certain people a lot more, like in the first draft, but I’ve chosen not to. I hope, for everyone I tag in this, it will bring back some lovely memories of high school and that trip to Paris.
III
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