Le Laboratoire De La Creation

Despite my last minute couch request for three nights in Paris, I ended up finding the most interesting and well-located apartment to stay in that I could have ever asked for. Only a few hours after I sent the request in Marseille, I got a response from a man named Julien, simply saying “Welcome,” with a copy and paste page of directions from the train station to his apartment. On his CouchSurfing page, he described his apartment, or as he called it, “Le Laboratoire De La Creation”, as a place where creativity knows no bounds. Julien, along with his three roommates and countless visitors, are all painters, musicians, actors, filmmakers, writers and sculptures.
The flat was four stories high, strung together by an old wooden spiral staircase that creaked with every step I took. The first floor housed the art studio and miniature theater; the second floor the sculpting studio-and also my makeshift bedroom; the third floor was Julien’s bedroom and office; and on the fourth floor was the kitchen, bathroom, and other three bedrooms.

After reading their profile on CS, I was overwhelmed with excitement to stay in such an artistic environment for three days. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived Monday afternoon, something had happened that caused everyone in the house to sink into a tremendous state of depression. Julien informed me that earlier in the week there had been a tragedy in his family, and for that reason he would be unable to show me around the city. Though he made it clear I was still very welcome in the house, it certainly wasn’t the experience I had hoped for. I almost never saw or spoke to anyone in the house in the time that I stayed there, except for a few painters here and there I met in passing. Nevertheless, I completely understood his absence under the circumstances, and was still very grateful to have a roof over my head. I mean how could I possibly complain? I was only a few blocks away from the Louvre!

My first full day in Paris I tackled alone. When you only have two full days to spend in Paris, it can be hard to decide what to make time for. But one thing I knew for sure, my first destination would be the Eiffel Tower. After a short walk from the apartment to the Seine River, I could see the Eiffel Tower standing tall and mysterious in the distance. The longer I walked towards the tower, the further it seemed to be away. It took me about an hour to finally reach the park it sat in. But when I did, I was completely awe struck. It was so much bigger up close than I imagined it to be, and certainly more impressive. As I stood under the massive structure, peering up through its iron center, I began to tear up thinking about how far I had made it, and all the wonderful things I’ve been able to see because of my hard work. It seemed at that moment that everything was beginning to come full circle, and I was truly proud of myself for making it all happen.

Soon after, I sat down in the soft grass beneath a small tree near the Eiffel Tower to write in my notebook and read my travel book. After a few nice minutes to myself, I was interrupted by a dark-haired and long-faced man. He introduced himself nervously, and told me that he and his girlfriend were practicing foot massages in the park to prepare for a test they need to pass to get into massage school. He then told me that he “needed” to massage my feet for three minutes, because he has to get eight people in the park to do it before he would be prepared for the exam. I responded by telling him that I don’t let strangers massage my feet, but he didn’t seem to get the idea. He continued to plead with me about the ridiculous massage until I finally said very calmly, “Sir, if you don’t get away from me, I’m going to scream.” He then proceeded to give me a terrified look as he walked off to find another tourist to harass.

After such a strange encounter, I decided to grab a coffee at a nearby café to avoid other strange men approaching me with any more absurd requests. So I said farewell to the Eiffel Tower and walked down Champs-Élysées, the back bone street of Paris, to find a good place to relax. Champs-Élysées is an extremely busy street with plenty to see, always bustling with tourists searching for souvenirs and gifts for their friends back home. By the time I reached the end, I’d forgotten all about the coffee I wanted, and continued on towards the Louvre , snapping photos everywhere I looked.

Once I had reached the Louvre I was losing energy fast, and since it was beginning to drizzle, I decided to call it a day and walk back towards the apartment.

The next day I made plans to meet up with a fellow CouchSurfer named Val to go see Jim Morrison’s grave at Pere LaChaise, one of the most famous cemetaries in the world. Being the resting place of such talents as Oscar Wilde, Frédéric Chopin, Isadora Duncan and of course Jim Morrison, Pere LaChaise is one of the most frequently visited graveyards in the world. I met Val at a nearby metro station, and we walked down the Parisian streets toward the cemetery, getting to know eachother as we went. Val was such an interesting woman. She was so easy to talk to, being such a free-spirited intelligent person, and we clicked right away. We explored Pere Lachaise together, going to both Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde’s grave, stopping at every crumbling and ancient-looking grave that caught our wandering curious eyes.

Eventually, the mysterious dead energy of Pere LaChaise was too much to bare, so Val and I retired to the Shakespeare And Company bookstore, where I, of course, had to purchase Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast”. That was where Val had to leave me, so we said our goodbyes and she walked out the door of the bookstore into the quickly fading sunlight. I could see it was beginning to rain, so I left soon after.
I ended up walking for an hour to get home, stopping at Notre Dame on the way, despite the fact that it was pouring rain. It was such a beautiful night that the rain could hardly ruin it. I walked slowly to the apartment, taking my time with every step, only stopping once when a man named Oliver pulled up next to me on a moped to introduce himself and propose marriage (I said no, of course). It was an absolute perfect ending to my time in Paris, and it left me itching for more. This is a city I know I will return to, some day.

Three Guitars and a French Dog Named Sky

By the time I got to my CS host Diane’s house in Marseille, the sun had long set and I could barely keep my eyes open. I arrived much later than I anticipated due to a few missed trains, but arrived all the same. Much to my excitement, when I walked through the door, I was greeted by the most adorable black lab named Sky, who reminded me so much of my puppy Arlo back home.

After I showered Sky with hugs and kisses, I entered the living room only to find four other CouchSurfers having a jam session with three guitars, a bongo drum and a tambourine. It was just what I needed to lift my spirits after a tiring day of train travel! For hours we sat, singing songs, playing music and sharing stories while we sank deeper into Diane’s big comfy couches. By the time I finally put the guitar down it was around 3:30 in the morning. I was exhausted, and the second I crawled into bed I fell fast asleep.

The next morning, we all slept in and enjoyed a late breakfast in Diane’s unbelievably scenic backyard. And it wasn’t just the backyard that was lovely. Every square inch of Diane’s home was beautifully decorated. It was a perfect place to relax and enjoy the charming tranquility the south of France has to offer. As we ate our breakfast, we could here the soothing sound of birds chirping, and fish splashing around in the pond she built-just beside the breakfast table. We sat for an hour or so, drinking coffee and discussing what we should do later in the day while Sky followed the fish with his eyes, surely hoping for the off chance that one leaps high enough to catch in his mouth.

Later on, with our bellies full, we set out to enjoy our first day of exploration in Marseille. We walked from the train station to the heart of the city, snapping pictures of everything interesting we passed, and then stopped at a lovely dessert shop-despite the lack of space we had in our satiated stomachs. The inside of the patisserie smelled so incredible, and looked it as well. I attempted to snap a photo of the dessert case, but was immediately scolded mid-picture by the shop owner. I snapped it anyway, and it came out quite nicely!

We sat outside and enjoyed our desserts while we watched passersby on the street follow their noses into the charming little patisserie. I am really going to miss places like this when I go home. Almost everywhere you walk in Europe there is a place to buy fresh pastries and desserts, and with out fail, they are always delicious.

When we finished our pastries, we head towards Notre Dame de la Garde, a church that sits on a massive hill that is considered the highest point in Marseille. Since none of us had a map, our way of navigating our way to the Notre Dame was to simply walk up hill continuously until we reached the church- which to my surprise, worked perfectly! We made it to the top of the hill much faster than I anticipated, and climbed the stairs all the way to the top level of the old church to enjoy the beautiful view of the city. We sat for a while on the steps of Notre Dame, giving ourselves a chance to rest our legs before we made the long walk down.

Once we felt ready to tackle the walk back, we snapped our final pictures and head in the direction of the harbor to see if we could find a beach somewhere to relax. With one broken sandal, after a good hour of walking, we stumbled upon a small makeshift beach wedged between two buildings on the shore. The beach was probably a quarter of the size of a football field, and was filled to the brim with people. We were all tired by that time, so none of us hesitated to claim a small patch of sand for ourselves. The water was freezing and was filled with tons of over-excited children, so I only jumped in once in the time we were there.

We soaked up the sun for a few hours until we got hungry again, and left only a half hour before the beach closed for the day. On the way back to the train station we stopped at a Kebab restaurant for some dinner. The guy that took our order didn’t speak English, and considering I was the only one of us with a background in French, it was up to me to communicate what we wanted to him. I was very proud of my ability to understand him and verbalize what we wanted. I guess high school French class wasn’t a complete and total waste of time. Thanks a lot Mrs. Ciacco, you crazy ol’ hag you!

The next day we woke up early so we could go to the local farmers market before it closed. It was so much fun going from stand to stand, listening to the locals haggle over assortments of already low-priced foods, live animals and accessories. I lost the others fairly quickly due to the size of the crowd. I found them pretty quickly, but then lost them again until it was time to meet at the car. Unfortunately, all I came home with was a bag of peaches, one for all of us. But they were delicious and certainly worth the two euros they cost!

When we got back to the house we all felt like being musical, so we grabbed the guitars and sat in the shade of the large green tree that towered over Diane’s backyard. We sat together, strumming softly in collaboration, enjoying our lazy Sunday afternoon.

But even in the shade, after a while the weather was getting a little too hot to enjoy. So Diane drove us to the beginning of a nearby water aqueduct to cool off, where we could ride the current all the way down till it ends-right near Diane’s parent’s house. Because the aqueduct is the city’s main water source, we technically were not supposed to be swimming in it. But we did anyway, and so did the dog. I’m glad we did too, because it was a perfect solution to a hot summer day in Marseille.

Once we got back to Diane’s parent’s house, she asked if one of us could follow behind her and drive the car (which was a manual) back from where we left it at the water’s source. I answered before anyone had a chance, telling her I’d be happy to drive her car back. We drove her parent’s car back to her place to drop everyone else off, and then head back in town to get her car. On the way over, I briefly mentioned that I only recently learned how to drive a manual, but she didn’t seem to be too concerned. But when we got to the car I was pretty nervous. This would be the first time I drove a manual on my own with nobody in the passenger seat. Still, I turned the key, buckled my seat belt and put it in reverse. It seemed to me like I was doing a great job. I mean, the car was moving, it didn’t stall out or make funny noises when I switched gears. However, the car was beeping the entire ride home, and for some reason or another, it didn’t occur to me at all that it was beeping because the emergency break was on the entire time.
When I pulled up next to her at the house, she asked me if I smelled something burning. At that point, I realized what I did, and apologized a million times over for making such a silly mistake. We both laughed nervously all the way to the house. But hey, it could have been worse, right? At least I got a chance to practice!

Since we all had trains to catch in the morning, we decided to spend another night in enjoying each other in the company of music. After all, it’s not so often on this trip that I get to have quality time with a guitar, especially with other musicians around to play with. So we made some dinner, and spent the whole night performing for one another and drinking wine. It was a perfect ending to a perfect weekend in France. I hope my hosts in Paris have a guitar. Maybe if I'm lucky they will have a dog too!