Travel story alert! (eventually I'll get all this out of my system)

My first goal in Paris was to find the office of tourism. I thought that was a good place to start and there it was, plain as day on my map on the corner of the on the Champs Elysées and the Arc de Triomphe. So . . . I left the hotel, walked up to the bus/metro stop and took a look around . . . "Surely I can find my way back to the hotel from here" thought I, and I went on the bus to the Arc de Triomphe on the Champs Elysees (and the tourist office which was just across the street.)

That was one of the most hair raising bus rides I've ever been on . . . and that's saying something because I've been in some interesting places. The bus driver took an accordion style (double long) bus down an alley with a moving truck on one side and a delivery truck on the other side. I wouldn't have even tried to get my car through that little space. But this just goes to prove my point, "There is always room for a bus."

I got to the Charles de Gaulle-Etoile and pointed myself toward the Arc de Triomphe.
"Yeah!Napoleonn!" it seemed to say.
I gave it a look or two and said to myself, "Self, first the office of tourism." Myself agreed and we turned down the Champs Elysees. I looked left, I looked right, I looked high and low, I looked way down the street, several blocks but I couldn't find it. I know those tourist maps aren't drawn to scale, but it was obviously right there on the corner!

No biggie, I thought, it's okay to spend an hour or so walking along one of the most famous streets in the world. As I went along, I saw a funny sign and took a picture (like I do.) Some brown man gave me a funny look. I thought to myself, "I'm in Paris, I'll never see this guy again." I gave him a funny look back.

I went in a few stores, wandered around a few more minutes and hmmmm . . . there he was again. He said, "Do you speak English?"
I said, "Yes."
We went through the "What's your name, where are you from, I'm from . . . do you like it here blah, blah."
Finally he said, "What are you doing?"
I said, "I'm looking for the tourism office.
He said, "I will show you." So he pointed me back toward the corner of the Arc de Triomphe. Well, maybe I missed it. I went back.

I could not find it! Eventually I just gave up and asked someone in the bank where it seemed the tourism office should be.
She said, "It has, uh, move."
She gave me the address and the Metro line. Time to tackle the Metro.

I found the Metro, I went down and remembered that I wanted to buy an orange card. I found a machine, I bought a card it was a tiny 1" by 3" orange card, but then I was confused. Did I need a picture (as the tour book said) or did I just go through the turn style? Would it give me my ticket back? What if I lost it? Why was it so tiny? How did these Frenchies do it?

I stood there looking confused for a few minutes (just for good measure) when here comes the same guy from the sign incident. "Did you find the tourism office?" I explained it had moved, I had a ticket but I didn't know what to do next. He took charge of the situation. He took me to the counter, got me a little plastic holder for my ticket, a few maps and then he gave me his card, with his phone number. He told me he was Pakistani, he owned an Indian restaurantt (I'm guessing it's really hard to sell people on the idea that Pakistani and Indian food are pretty much the same.) He told me I should come by for a meal. (Chalk one more up for Shannon and the brown men.)
I said, 'Thank you" outloud and "probably not" in my head and started walking through the turn style and down the tunnel toward my train.
He called me, "Excuse me! Miss! You are going the wrong way!"
Dang it! Was I ever going to get away from this guy?!
I waved, "Thanks" and turned around to to go to the next tunnel.

He was a really nice guy. He didn't touch me or ooggle and google me like some brown guys try to do, but it is a little unnerving to be alone in a big, strange city and feel like you are being followed by a stranger.

I found the train, got off at the correct station and couldn't figure out how to get out. Everywhere I looked it seemed to say "Exit" but you had to put your ticket in so it also seemed to say, "Exit to another train" in Shannon language. I didn't want another train! I wanted outside!

I gave in and put my ticket in the turn style to get out. And that's how it's done in Paris. You have to prove you paid to get in and you have to prove it again to get out.

The address was 11 rue de whatever. I found the rue, I found 11 I went in. They said, "No, it is 11, it is down" and pointed. I did that three times. I swear they were all 11s! There must be some secret number code in Paris. The whole city block seemed to be 11!

By the time I found the office of tourism I was all out of the mood. I didn't even care anymore.
I looked around a few minutes found no new information for my trouble and left.

On the map, the Seine River looked close. I decided to walk on down to check it out. It was not as close as it looked on the map. (Naturally, but another day on what happened in the Jardin des Tuileries.)