"I may have frightened you a bit with all our public transport misadventures in Paris. But trust me, it's not as daunting as it may seem."
Every big city has its own complex public transportation system and Paris is no exception. Although it may seem overwhelming, it’s easy to master… as long as you’re not me (Mona) or Siddharth. It took us a good two weeks to even start feeling like we had a handle on it, from buses to metros to the mysterious RER. Ah, Paris, the city of love and public transport challenges!
I signed up for a program through my university that provided me with an internship in Paris months in advance. I couldn't wait to have a croissant and try all the vibrant pastries each morning. I wanted to discover everything Paris had to offer. As soon as we landed in Paris, we were handed an Ile-de-France transportation card. This magical, laminated card granted us the freedom to explore every nook and cranny of the city. We had a whole week to make all the mistakes before our actual internship began.
Our first adventure involved a group of fellow interns. We stuck together like glue, following them from the tram to the RER C, all the way to our final destination: Bastille. A place a district in the east end of Paris with a fascinating history. Once used as a prison, it now stands as a symbol of French heritage. The journey seemed relatively straightforward: hop on a tram across from our residence, alight after one stop, and descend. An underground world filled with people speed walking welcomed us. It didn't faze me one bit; in fact, I felt like a true Parisian, confident and in-the-know. Well, at least until we ventured into the realm of buses.
On the first day of our internship, Lisa, the founder of Flavors of Paris asked us to meet her at 2:15 pm at a charming café in Vanves, a quaint little town in the suburbs of Paris. Without any prior knowledge of the area, Sid and I relied on our phones to guide us there. Dressed to impress in our matching white button-ups and dress pants, we hopped on the tram with unwavering confidence in our newfound public transportation skills.
Once we got off the tram, our next task was to catch bus 189—a challenge we had yet to conquer. And that's when our misadventures truly began. We hopped on the bus going in the wrong direction. Thankfully, we caught our mistake quickly and exited at the next stop. We sprinted across the street, desperate to catch the next bus that would take us to Lisa and her dog Pépé, manager of customer relations. As we approached the stop, we noticed a crowd of people waiting. We wondered: Where do people go at 2pm in the suburbs of Paris?
The bus promptly arrived it the stop. Sid and I got caught up in the whirlwind of the moment and rushed to board. This is where things took a turn. I elegantly sauntered through the front doors, ready to scan my transportation card, while Sid, in his unmatched panic, decided to take the unconventional route—through the back door, a.k.a the exit in France. Little did we know, that seemingly innocent choice was to unleash an unfortunate turn of events.
In a matter of seconds, a beefy man with a neon orange armband stormed towards us, the RATP–the local transport authority. The look on his face could send shivers down anyone's spine, and Sid's expression matched it perfectly—a blend of terror and confusion. You could practically see the word "uh-oh" in blinking neon letters above his head.
The transit officer whipped out a card reader, as deftly as Wyatt Earp drawing his gun at the OK Corral, and instructed both of us to scan our cards. It struck me as odd because Sid had just scanned it at the front, and this card reader seemed to be reserved for credit cards. The man was speaking in French, a language Sid could not decipher. As for me, well, I managed to catch some of the words he was saying, and it boiled down to this: Sid had committed a heinous crime and owed a whopping €150 for his transgression.
Sid's face dropped faster than a delicate soufflé collapsing in a French kitchen. Desperately, he repeated three phrases as if it was all he knew how to say: "No no," "I'm new here," and "I didn't know." He adamantly refused to hand over any amount of money to this man. And honestly, can you blame him? We were as clueless as ever. Just when things couldn't get more bewildering, two women, with the same neon armbands, swooped in to join the spectacle. Sensing the urgency, I called our program coordinator, a true Francophone. While I was on the phone with her, Sid began showing them pictures of his passport, still repeating those three trusty phrases. Then, like a bolt of lightning, I heard the man demand €200. Oh boy did that escalate quick!
As I relayed the situation to our coordinator, she asked me to pass the phone to someone at RATP. Meanwhile, Sid continued his intense negotiation with the man. Our coordinator demanded that they let this incident slide as a mere warning, and somehow, they agreed. They disembarked at the next stop, and finally, Sid collapsed into his seat, exhaling the biggest sigh of relief.
We sat there in stunned silence, unable to fully comprehend the chaos that had just unfolded. When our stop finally arrived, Sid stood up and headed toward the front doors, while I gracefully made my way to the back. Fate had another twist in store for him. The doors shut in Sid's face, leaving him spinning in confusion. I quickly signaled for him to follow me, and we hopped off the bus together. Two mistakes, one bus ride. A first day filled with a whirlwind of confusion, excitement, and stress.
Undeterred, we tried again on day two. This time, however, we managed to miss the bus entirely. As we waited for the next Bus 189, two Bus 126s passed us by, and we hesitated to board since we didn’t want to get lost. Finally, our trusty bus from the previous day arrived, and we eagerly hopped on. Smooth sailing for five stops, and we were just one stop away from our destination. But, naturally, fate had a mischievous plan for us—we drove right past our intended stop. We didn’t press the button to request a stop. Another lesson learned, and one we wouldn’t forget.
I may have frightened you a bit with all our public transport misadventures in Paris. But trust me, it's not as daunting as it may seem. Just follow these simple rules to conquer the Parisian transportation system with ease:
Scan your transportation card right away.
On the bus, enter through the front and exit through the back.
If you purchase a ticket upon boarding, don't toss it away until you have made your final exit from the transit.
On th buses, always press the button to request your stop.
Keep track of your route.
Be aware of your surroundings - public transport is a hotspot for pick pocketing
If you go in the wrong direction. Just take a breath and turn around.
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With these tips, you'll be gliding through the streets of Paris like a true local. And remember, even in the face of chaos, mishaps, and a touch of public transport drama, the City of Love and good food always has something fabulous in store.
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