It’s Ana in Strasbourg.
Getting to Paris and the consequential navigation to Strasbourg could be summed up in only one world: chaos. I wouldn’t have changed it, though – the problem-solving I had to do as a solo traveler was incredibly empowering. Every day in France, I was proud of myself for navigating any and all obstacles that came my way. There were quite a few right out of the gate (literally).
If you read my previous blogpost about my airport/airplane experiences during this trip, then you’ll know that I landed in Paris, while my luggage was inconveniently sitting at the airport in Boston. After working out a claim with AirFrance/Delta, I had to get on a train to Strasbourg. My initial itinerary called for me to hop on a train at the airport, however, due to the delays and missing luggage, I’d unfortunately missed the train. I decided to walk down to the train station to see if I could buy a ticket on the next train out – it was a long walk to that area of the airport, and when I got there, I discovered that the next train out would be leaving at 5 p.m. The largest Christmas tree in Strasbourg was lit at 5 p.m., and I’d really wanted to see that, so I decided to see if other train stations in Paris would have departing trains any earlier.
I’m glad that I did, because I didn’t know it then, but the Christmas Markets in Strasbourg close at 8 p.m., which is exactly when that 5 p.m. train would have gotten me to Strasbourg, meaning I would have arrived in the city only to sit in my hotel all evening, completely missing the reason I’d traveled there.
However, I found a few trains that were departing shortly from Gare L’Est, so I decided that I would take a taxi to the train station, buy another ticket, and make my way to Strasbourg. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make it to the train station in time, but there was a second train leaving about an hour after the first, so I knew either way I would be able to get on a train from Gare L’Est.
I’ll start by saying that I don’t like taxis. I’ve taken them in New York and Minneapolis, and I hate them. I think they are sketchy, more often than not they are gross, and they are almost a guaranteed place to be ripped off. None of which I like. Ride-sharing apps have their problems, as well, but overall I find them to be safer and more reliable. I’d read that Paris is a taxi-based city, and there are not many Ubers or other ride-share options. This is completely false. Uber is very much alive in Paris, and I utilized it frequently during my trip.
However, that first day, I was still under the belief that one must take a taxi in Paris, so I left the train station portion of the airport, and began looking for a taxi. I followed signage that directed to the taxi area, but when I arrived, it was all roped off. There was not any signage to indicate where I should go next, so I approached a security guard and asked for directions. They directed me to area number four, which immediately, my gut told me was wrong. I walked in the direction they told me, however, and when I saw a second security guard, I asked them the same question, and again was told area four. When I arrived to area number four, I realized they had directed me to taxes, not taxis.
At this point, I was sweating. I was hauling around a heavy carry-on bag that did not have wheels, as it was meant to attach to the top of my roller luggage which was in Boston, at the moment. I had a heavy backpack on my back. I’d been traveling for what seemed like weeks, but was more like 48 hours. I’d missed my train, about $150 for the ticket. I had thirty minutes to get on the next train, but couldn’t find the taxi stand to get me there.
I hauled my butt and my bags back to the security agent, who at this time was talking to a well-dressed man. I asked him again about taxis, explaining that he’d sent me to taxes, but I was looking for a taxi-cab. He continued to look confused, while the man he was speaking with recognized what I was asking for, telling me he had a taxi. I was skeptical of him but willing to give him a chance at that point, so I decided that I would see where he brought me, and if it felt sketchy, I’d just dip out. As we walked through the airport, he saw a young man who looked confused, and he asked him if he was also looking for a taxi. The young man said yes, and joined our little caravan. The taxi driver brought us to an area of the airport where there were cars gathered, and pointed the other young man to a different vehicle, where a different driver helped him load his bags. The first taxi driver brought me over to his car, where I immediately noticed he did not have a lit taxi sign.
All licensed taxis in Paris will have a lit sign on their vehicle – if they don’t have one, they are not legit. This car was missing one, so I started looking at the front and back of the vehicle for any indication that this could be some kind of ride-share, or legit taxi. My gut was telling me that this wasn’t it.
I’d gotten in the vehicle so I could look at the front and back dashboards to see if there was a sign there, but turned to the driver when I didn’t see him.
“How do I know how much the trip will cost?” I asked, beginning to ask some questions so I could verify if I was right or wrong.
“By the meter, of course,” he said, in a way that I could only describe as slimy. It was the tone of someone who is not nice, but is trying to convince you that they are nice. I looked back at the front dashboard, and there was no meter there. He was lying to me. At best, he was going to completely rip me off when we arrived at my destination. At worst, I would not be arriving at my destination. He walked around to the front of the car, and while I did not have another plan on how to get to the train station, I decided that this would not be my plan. I grabbed my bag, which I’d set down on the seat of the car, and walked back to the entrance of the airport. The driver called after me, but I ignored him and kept going.
I returned to the area I’d seen the security guards in, and decided to hell with it. I would not be taking a taxi. I didn’t like taxis, and this experience, though certainly not with a legit taxi service, confirmed that taxis suck. Ride-share apps are superior. I pulled up Uber, and was immediately connected with someone. As they arrived, I realized that I didn’t know where they would pick me up, and when they called to determine my location, my drive only spoke French. I decided to walk out of the doors of the airport nearest to me, and by chance, my Uber driver was parked immediately to my right. He saw me on the phone and called my name, so I ran over to his vehicle.
While I did not enjoy the sketchy interaction with the “taxi” “driver,” I do think that everything happens for a reason, and I was incredibly glad to have had the luck to be assigned with this particular Uber driver, as he was a charming, petite old French man.
After he greeted me, he gestured to the license plate of his vehicle so I could verify that he was the correct driver, which I’d never had an Uber driver do before. For safety purposes, I always double check the license plate and description of the vehicle (and, I always make the drive say my name first so I know they are legit and the right person. I never offer up my name to them first, so I can be sure they are legitimately my driver and not just a random person). As he opened the trunk of his car and began helping me put my carry-on in the trunk, he introduced himself, so I said “enchanté,” in an effort to begin speaking French. This made him very happy, and he responded back with a joyful “enchanté” in return. I told him that I was trying to work on utilizing French while I was there, and he nodded happily, saying, “that’s good, that’s good!”
When I sat down in his car, relief washed over me. I was exhausted, but I felt like I could relax until we made it to the train station. His vibes were way better than the previous situation, and I felt at ease. I was extremely grateful that he was the one to pick me up, so I said, “That was great timing. I’m very grateful, thank you.”
He responded by saying, “Non, francais,” with a huge smile.
I laughed. After telling him that I was trying to speak more French, I immediately had spoken English. “Merci beaucoup!” I replied. Thank you very much.
He raised his right hand in a gesture that could only be described as tossing a jazz-hand into the air, and said, “Voila!” Which was so delightfully French. I didn’t realize that the French legitimately used that word, but during my travels came to realize they actually use it quite frequently, which I loved.
Since he had such a great reaction to my first few phrases in French, I decided to really put myself out there.
“Comment ça va?” I asked. How are you?
When I tell you that this man lit up from within when I said that – he was so happy that I had spoken more French.
“Comment ça va?” he repeated, almost in disbelief. “Ça va! Ça va très bien! Et toi?” I am well. I am very well. How are you?
“Ça va très bien,” I responded. “Merci!”
“You are an American?” he asked, with more disbelief. “You are an American and you speak French?”
“Un petit peu,” I responded tentatively, not sure if I was right. A little bit.
He nodded to acknowledge that I’d said it correctly, and while we’d reached just about the end of my French-speaking abilities, I felt giddy for the rest of the drive that my first small conversation had gone so well.
When he dropped me off at the train station, I made my way to a kiosk, purchased a ticket for the next train to Strasbourg, and began trying to figure out where I needed to go. I was in a hallway set off from the main area of the train station, and observed a group of young women speaking in French. They seemed to me like a group of girls hanging out, but after a few moments, one of them came over and began speaking in French to me. I didn’t like her vibe, so I didn’t try to communicate with her, and rather told her in English that I didn’t speak French. Her eyes lit up, which I did not love. I felt like she’d just identified me as an easy target. She began telling me a story about how she needed money to afford food for her daughter, which I recognized as a scam I’d read about prior to traveling. As she told me her story, she changed her mind and began telling a different story. I told her that I didn’t have any money on me, and she immediately turned on her heels and left. As I walked through the airport, I saw her and her friends walk up to many people, asking them for money. They were turned down by everyone that I saw.
When I looked at my ticket, I realized that it told me what seat and car I would be on, but not which platform to go to. I walked to a waiting area and sat down, needing a break from moving around with my heavy carry-on. I immediately noticed an extremely attractive Frenchman my age sitting at a table not far from me, but I looked like an absolute mess after 48 hours of travel, so I minded my own business. I looked at my ticket again, and scanned it with my Google translate app, thinking I had perhaps missed something. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough service in the train station to be able to utilize the feature. As I was trying to use the app, one of the young women came around to each person in our area, beginning to tell them her sob story, and each of them quickly replied “non,” and she would just as quickly turn to the next person. It was interesting to watch. When she came to me, I followed the French’s suit, and said “non.” She walked away immediately.
At this point, I knew I needed to ask someone for help figuring out which platform to go on. My train was departing in 30 minutes, and I didn’t want to risk missing it, however, I felt odd striking up a conversation with the people around my after we’d all just been approached by scam artists. I sucked it up though, and turned to the woman next to me.
“Parlez vous anglais?” I asked. Do you speak English?
She replied by saying “Non,” but then immediately began speaking to me in French. I didn’t know what she was saying, so I gestured at my ticket and said I didn’t know where I needed to go for my train. She continued talking in French, but I didn’t understand, and since my Google translate app wasn’t working, I couldn’t utilize that to communicate with her, so I responded with a “Désolé. Merci.” Sorry. Thank you.
As I was trying to decide what my next move would be, the woman got up and walked over to the attractive young Frenchman I’d noticed earlier and began speaking quickly and gesturing in my direction. He looked over and said, “You speak English?”
I could feel my face light up with relief, and he smiled back in return. “Yes! You speak English?” I asked.
He said yes, so I picked up my bags and walked over to him. I showed him my ticket and explained that I could see where I was sitting on the train, but not which platform to go to. He explained that I needed to look at the monitors throughout the station, and match up my train number with the corresponding number on the screen, and there was a small number in the corner that would tell me which platform to go to. For some reason, my train wasn’t on the board yet, which he thought was odd, since it was so close to my departure time. He explained a few other things about the monitors and train system to me, which was super helpful. He was so kind to me, and I was grateful that he’d taken the time to explain the monitors to me. I thanked him for his help, and bunkered down in front of one of the monitors, and as soon as it updated the platform number, headed in that direction.
I was very grateful for both individuals – the man’s information about the train station came in handy during the rest of my trip, and I felt extremely confident in my ability to navigate it after talking with him. The woman went so far out of her way to help me, and I’ve thought of that many times since. If I were in her shoes, I probably would have simply stated that I didn’t speak English, and would have gone on with my life. But she didn’t – she went out of her way to find someone who spoke English and who could help me. It’s caused me to reflect on the extent to which I would help a stranger – if I weren’t immediately or easily able to help them, would I be like her and find someone that could help? I’m not sure that I always would have, but I certainly would now.
Once my train arrived and I boarded, it was blissful. The train was German, and we were headed to an area of France that spoke German, as it was quite close to the border. At the sight of German words, I felt happy and instantly more comfortable. I could understand most of the words around me, and it made my heart happy to read and hear the familiar language. I sat back and relaxed during the remainder of the trip – the train was very comfortable, especially after a long period of traveling.
When we arrived in Strasbourg, I pulled up my Maps app, navigated to my hotel, and checked in. I had an extra outfit in my carry-on, so I quickly changed, threw on a splash of makeup, and headed back out the door to enjoy the Christmas Markets until they closed. And let me tell you, it was fucking magical.
An entire section of Strasbourg is dedicated to Christmas festivities, and as the Christmas Capital of Europe, it was not lacking. I’d made notes about different Christmas Markets I wanted to visit with specific items I’d wanted to find, so I quickly set out to maximize the three hours of Christmas Market time I had left in my evening.
As I walked throughout the city, I was amazed by the work they put into lighting up the city – each street was decked out with beautiful lights and displays above businesses.
You could tell the city really took pride in decorating for the season. When larger blocks intersected, there were larger, chandelier-like fixtures strung above the streets.
Many streets had little themes – like this one with gingerbread men lights.
There were gleaming stars dotted along the streets, which were a personal favorite of mine to stroll past.
I was grateful that I’d continued on through my difficulties in getting to Strasbourg – the Christmas Markets were worth it, filled with light music, delicious smells, and colorful holiday decorations and gifts.
I mean, look at all of the colorful candies.
I walked around the market, taking in all of the baubles and trinkets being sold, and stopped at a booth where they were selling Glühwein, a delicious mulled wine.
I ordered the white Glühwein, and it was Glüh-divine. It was warm and sweet, with orange notes that rolled over the tongue after each sip.
Hungry, I stopped at a nearby booth and purchased a cheesy pretzel, which felt very Bavarian to me.
Due to COVID, they had certain sections designated for eating, as you were required to mask while walking through the rest of the market, and therefore could not be eating or drinking. I found a seat, and began to people watch as I ate and drank. While I was eating, a projector began to play the story of the Christmas Market’s conception, all in German, and which I was able to understand, which made me happy.
I continued throughout the markets, and debated over whether or not I should purchase a gingerbread man.
I don’t love gingerbread, but they looked so cute that I thought perhaps my tastebuds could be persuaded.
Instead, I opted to buy a small container of various French holiday cookies, all of which were adorable. I didn’t break the container open until I returned home to the States, and discovered that most of them had a subtle anise flavor – I’m also not a fan of anise, so I donated my cookie supply to my parents, who enjoyed them.
I made a round at the giant Christmas tree, which was absolutely massive. I’d wished I could have seen the lighting ceremony, but I told myself that I would just have to come back to see it again.
I then found the crowning glory – the view of the Strasbourg Cathedral from one of the lovely decorated streets.
I was struck in awe by the magnitude and magnificence of the cathedral. It was so intricate, and the soft glow from the Christmas lights complicated the glow from behind the painted glass windows.
I had a marvelous time strolling through the city, and felt incredibly safe there. It was like a breath of fresh air – a release to be out and exploring the world again. I felt incredibly free as I roamed.
Because of Strasbourg’s proximity to the border of Germany, the architecture resembled what I had expected to see during my original trip, when I was slated to visit the Bavarian region of Germany. It made me feel like I was still getting a taste of the trip to Germany that could have been!
There was an exciting set of French flags lit up in blue and red lights on one street. I’ll admit it made me a bit giddy to walk past – another stark reminder that I was finally in France!
After three hours of perusing the markets, I returned to my hotel, where I took the hottest of showers to wash away the grime of my travels, and gratefully cuddled up into bed, ready to sleep for the first time in 48 hours.
And with that, my first day in France was complete.
After quickly falling into an incredible night’s sleep, I woke up bright and early to enjoy a bit of Strasbourg in the daylight before I had to head to the train station. As I walked down the halls of my hotel, I felt like I was lit with sunshine from within – everyone I crossed paths with greeted me with a “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” which I found incredibly charming.
First things first, I had to make my way to a patisserie.
Not only did I get a taste of the French’s wonderful baking, I got another taste of the French’s kindness. The woman in this patisserie was so sweet – I greeted her in French, and she happily responded to me. I asked her, in French, if she spoke English, and she said that she spoke a little bit, so I asked her what was in a few of the delicacies in the pastry case. She helped me pronounce the names of the pastries, and when I made my decision, I ordered in French. She nodded at me with a smile and said, “Oui, tres bien!”
She carefully placed my pastry into a paper bag, and when she handed it to me, exclaimed the customary French “voila!”
There was a bridge I had walked along the previous evening that I thought was beautiful, and wanted to see in the daylight, so I found my way there again, and enjoyed my little pastry on the bridge.
The pastry itself was a sweet, thick bread, dappled with chocolate bits and coated in a sweet glaze. It was delicious, and very filling.
I’d also wanted to see Galeries Lafayette – a large department store in France. There are locations throughout France, with some of the more Instagrammed being in Paris, particularly the location on Haussmann, which has extraordinary Christmas displays at the holiday season. I was glad I stopped to look at the location in Strasbourg, because the Paris location was constantly surrounded by frenzied shoppers and tourists, and I couldn’t bring myself to go near it, much less inside, when I visited Paris. I’m sure it would have been lovely, but with COVID, I felt nervous about willingly walking into crowds that large. The location in Strasbourg, however, was quiet, especially so early in the morning.
I noticed that many businesses had decorated their storefronts with stuffed teddy bears.
I had a lot of logistical questions about how these bears survived the winter weather, but they seemed to be an extremely popular option for outdoor decorating in Strasbourg.
After a brief walk through the city and a delicious pastry treat, I had to return to my hotel to gather my things before embarking on my next journey – a train to Versailles, where I didn’t know it yet, but I would be staying in an actual palace.
Stay tuned to hear more!
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