Tuesday, I got brave. I faced my fears of getting lost and pickpockets (actually, I wasn’t afraid of the latter until my other half continuously warned me of them, that nerd), and headed into the big city. I took the train, which wasn’t intimidating (although the huge sound that bounces back at you when you pass a train going in the opposite direction made me jump every time), but upon my arrival in Paris came the make it or break it moment…

The Metro.

Granted I lived in the Bay Area for awhile and experienced the BART quite a few times, but it’s not really the same. Besides, in California, the majority of people speak english.

I was a bit scared, but I put my ticket in the little muncher thing (it eats it and then spits it back out at you), and pushed my way through those doors that opened into the Paris underground. I waited for my metro to zoom by (they tend to run every 3 minutes, which is rather impressive… you never have long to wait), got in, found a seat, and clenched by belongings tightly to avoid any sort of grab and run pickpocket manuver that could come my way.

The metro is fast, lightning-speed really, but also noisy. You’ve the performers who pass their days in the cars, trying to earn a living (such as one accordion/sax duo was doing), but you’ve also the guys that sit in the terminals driving around toy cars and thinking you’re going to give them money for that (keep dreaming, bro). The metro has its own noises as well while it goes along, sometimes just the “woosh” as the world goes by, but sometimes mysterious sounds reminiscent of air hockey pucks slamming into the goal.

And of course, I just kept thinking about how I was “riding on the metro-ohhhhhh.” Who sang that little diddy, anyway?