Paris has been covered on this blog/site/everywhere else in the universe, and since everyone covering it is more knowledgeable/competent than I, I’m going to take this time not to talk about sights, but to out myself as an extreme budget traveler.
I am an extreme budget traveler (let’s repeat this). This is honestly part of the reason why I am studying abroad in Morocco and not a more traditional place. The last time my family traveled through Europe (Germany, Italy, and Austria) was when I was 12 and we lived in Scotland, and we spent our entire time eating the cheapest food available. Both lunch and dinner would be a baguette, cheese, and ham—I remember going to a sit-down place exactly once. Though I’m proud of being cheap—we were frugal by necessity when I was little, and it allows me to spend money on things that really matter— it means I sometimes miss out on things. Example A: Thursday:
I get about 30 minutes of sleep in the 24 hours before I arrive in Montmartre. Some people can travel/study/do life on all-nighters, but this is not me (I’ve never seen the point of doing drugs because I can get the same sensation (from what I’ve heard), for free, by staying up all night). I had already memorized a list of places in Paris where I could get a meal for 10 euros or less (go to L’As du Fallafel! Especially vegetarians! It was so filling that yesterday, I walked about 10 miles and climbed about 1000 steps and only had to eat that one meal, besides the free hotel breakfast. Shoutout to David Leeds for the recommendation.), but after arriving to Montmartre dead tired and in the pouring rain, I don’t want to leave the neighborhood. Despite the rain, it’s beautiful—I step straight into a friendly hostel and winding streets and lots of delicious-looking boulangeries and all was well. Zombie-me floats through the streets, accidentally hitting tall people with my umbrella, silently singing “Wow, I’m in Paris!”
But food. I can’t just eat a pain au chocolate and baguette and cheese; that’s not enough protein. There are loads of quiches, but all include either fish or meat. And while I know I’ll have to give up my vegetarianism in Morocco, I want to make a decision like that in a fully functional state of mind. Restaurants in Montmartre are out of the question—I wander, zombie-like, up and down streets multiple times in search for plates that are below 13 euro, but alas, there are none, and a caprese salad does not count as a real meal.
Wandering aimlessly around the cobbled streets, I see some bao in the window, and am drawn to it like a dying woman to water. Even though I can’t eat it, it’s familiar and looks really good, and by the looks of it proves—hopefully—that the French can make Chinese food.
“Ni Hao,” the (Chinese) restaurant owner says.
(I’d been warned about getting “English-ed” in Paris, which is when you talk to someone in mediocre French and they respond in English. This actually hadn’t happened yet at this point, though I’m not sure if people had been thinking I was more conversant than I am or just felt pity for me. It was still surprising that I got Chinese-d first).
“Sorry,” I say in French, “I don’t speak Chinese.”
“Do you speak French?”
“A little bit.”
There’s a tofu and vegetable dish, and all I can hear at this point is my mom’s voice, urging me to “Eat protein! Eat protein!” I can’t even remember what food I actually like, only that I need protein inside me for some reason, and I don’t want to eat meat for another. Tofu= protein+ not meat+ cheap= good.
The owner doesn’t believe that I could speak French (perhaps because of my soulless, sleep-deprived stare), and asks me in English if I want to eat inside or outside, becoming the first person to both Chinese me and English me. Inside, I say. She finishes serving the tofu and asks me, in French, if I want rice with that.
“No(n),” I say, shaking my head. I already have a baguette.
“Rice!” She yells in English. I repeat my answer. She looks (understandably) confused and suspicious and gives me the tofu in a plastic container on a plate.
The tofu was surprisingly good, for something that had been heated up in the microwave. And that was my first exposure to French cuisine. If this sounds something like you, stick around for my next post (which should be very soon)…
Post 2— Tips for a cheap (100-150 euro) solo weekend in Paris (i.e. the blind leading the blind; I actually spent 175 Euro but I wouldn’t have had I done the metro better and bought fewer pastries):
- Yes, look at hostel prices, but also look at the online reviews of hostel breakfasts. If it’s good, it will add value. If it’s not good, you’ll effectively pay twice for breakfast. Which brings us to…
- Eat only two meals a day. Maybe this won’t work unless you’re a small human like me, but I had to choose between quality and quantity and opted for the former. I ate hostel breakfast and then a late lunch, and I was full and happy.
- Go out for lunch, not dinner. Like the first two tips, this applies anywhere— lots of places have a price fixe lunch menu, which led to me eating Crème Brulee for the first time. Plus, falafel (see my last post). I brought my own snacks for snacks and “dinner”.
- Drink only during happy hour. Ditto to this applying anywhere. Maybe this would be more difficult for people who, you know, can drink more than one drink without glowing red and head-aching, but I was happy.
- Paris-specific: You can walk up the Eiffel Tower to the 2nd level for 4 euro (12-24 year-olds); plus, the line is shorter than that of the elevator and you get exercise!
- The Louvre is free for 18-26 year-olds of all nationalities on Friday nights from 6:00-9:45pm.
- There are free English-language walking tours! One I found through my hostel was CultureFish tours, which operates in both Paris center and Montmartre. Highly recommended.
- You can easily fill up your days doing only free things. I went to Sacre-Coeur, which was incredible, but there are a myriad of other things which you can find on the internet.
- If you think you’re going to be using the metro a lot, either get tickets in a pack of 10 or a pass. But honestly, you can walk most places.
- Last anecdote: Someone tried to (incompetently) pickpocket me today at a Metro station. First, I could have pickpocketed better than him, so everything was all right. Second, he was welcome to the tampons in my backpack pocket that wasn’t locked… You probably already know this if you’re reading this blog, but it’s good in cities like this to either carry your bag in front of you, or, if you can’t do that, lock the pocket with valuables in it. Even if it’s like 2 pm and there are a ton of people around, things can happen.