Les taxis à 2h: un vrai cauchemar

As I mentioned in my last entry, Paris had several BC visitors from elsewhere in Europe this weekend.  Several girls came from the BC program in Strasbourg, and a couple came from the BC program in San Sebastian.  A couple of nights ago, they heard about a bar called The Hideout Bar in the 11th arrondissement, near where my friend Mike lives.  They checked it out and gave it the stamp of approval, so that’s where we decided to start off our evening.  We got there, and some fabulous American oldies were blasting from the speakers; it was (surprise!) in the style of a New York bar.  The drinks were relatively cheap (in Parisian terms), so I decided to order my first mojito!  For those of you who are not familiar with this drink, it consists of white rum, sparkling water, mint, sugar, and a bit of lime.  It was delicious, and I will definitely be trying a few more of those in the near future.

After we ordered our first round of drinks, we went downstairs and started a bit of a dance party.  It was really fun, until a few interloping males in the Latin fashion (as Myriam would say) attempted to join us.  After several attempts, our boys shooed them away.  As Mike said, he’s “6′ 2″ and a buck eighty;” few guys would mess with that; he has essentially filled the role of ‘champion blocker.’

After the bars closed at 2, we tried to get into a club called the Social Club, which would be open until 5am.  When we got there, they only let two of our boys in because there was apparently a dress code (nice shoes and jackets).  In addition to this minor problem, they were also charging an exorbitant cover that didn’t quite seem worth it.

After much deliberation, we decided to head home.  The metros close at 1:30 on the weekends, so we got on line at a taxi stand.  Unfortunately, hailing a taxi between 2 and 3 is an absolute cauchemar (nightmare), because all of the bars in the city close at 2, meaning that all of the people in the city are trying to hail cabs.  After waiting outside in the freezing cold and the snow flurries, Melanie managed to chase a cab (quite literally and quite a distance) and we decided to split it and take it back to my apartment.

Our cab driver turned out to be the nicest French man ever!  Melanie and I had a great chat with him as he maneuvered his way around the taxi-filled streets of Paris.  He pointed out the Louvre and a few other monuments, all the while explaining why it was so difficult to hail taxis between 2 and 3; we were both ecstatic to have carried on a long, real conversation with this man.  Already in a good mood, we were pleased to see that the ten-minute ride cost less than 10 euros.  We were also pleased to find a loaf of bread, jam and cheese waiting for us when we finally reached my apartment up on the 5th floor.

On a less alcoholic note.  I met up with Melanie and her roommate Ivie, and we decided to go to the Eiffel tower.  I guess in retrospect, Saturdays aren’t the best days to go; it was SO CROWDED, and the lines were insanely long.  Since it was so cold, we decided not to climb it, so we just took some pictures, walked around, and froze a few fingers off (no big).  I went back to their place afterward, and we watched some high quality television in French…MTV!  We ended up watching an episode of Next and one of Made, both of which helped me pick up some useful French slang.  On my way home, I stopped by Melanie’s local boulangerie (bakery) to pick up a fresh baguette.  I’ve tried a LOT of baguettes in the past two weeks, and this was by far the BEST I have tasted thus far!  It was so doughy and egg-y and delicious, I couldn’t keep my hands off of it.  If any of you come to visit, I’m certainly taking you there, unless I find a better place…

Speaking of bread…I’m gonna go fetch some and lather it up with some fresh confiture (jam).