The first morning of our trip to Paris found Devina and I lost. We had just emerged out of the metro (le Metropolitan if ya fancy) from the airport and were trying to figure out in which direction we’d find our hostel. The directions they had provided weren’t quite good enough to get us all the way to the front door. Luckily, a friendly Frenchman came to our aid and pointed us the right way. Properly oriented, we then walked down the street towards our accommodations for the next few nights.

We strolled down three or four more blocks and then spotted a building with several flags hanging over the awning. This was it! Devina and I walked inside and stepped up to the front desk to check in. Unfortunately, check-in time did not start until after 4:00pm and it was still early in the day. Our eight-hour flight to Paris from Atlanta was very bumpy. Not the worst turbulence I’ve experienced, but enough that:

1. Neither of us had slept that much.
2. Devina spilled a glass of wine on the white sweater she was wearing.

Thanks to this, the two of us were exhausted and dirty when we finally reached the hostel that morning. But, instead getting a much needed nap and a shower; we were essentially forced to store our luggage and explore the surrounding area until that afternoon. We asked the desk person if he had any recommendations for things we could do.

“You should check out the church,” he said. “It’s very popular and has a great view of the city.”

We walked back out into the mid-morning Parisian sun and stood on the hostel’s stoop for a moment to regroup. The hostel was located in the Montmartre district of the city. I certainly had never heard of Montmartre before and had not made any conscious effort to stay there. The hostel just happened to have good prices and reviews when we booked our trip online. We learned during a walking tour later in the day that Montmartre’s population is a mix of working class immigrants and bohemian bourgeoisie (bobos for short). Many artists (including Pablo Picasso) lived and worked in Montmartre during the Belle Époque period just before World War I. Ever heard of the Moulin Rouge? It’s located in Montmartre.

Devina still had the wine stain on her shirt and both of us were horribly sleep-deprived. The walking tour wasn’t starting for several hours, so we decided to go see the church the hostel’s front desk guy had mentioned. Montmartre is built on a hill in the northern part of the city. The hostel was situated at the foot of this hill and the Sacré-Cœur was at the top. There was a main street (Boulevard de Rochechouart) running around the perimeter of the hill, with side streets and stairs running up. Devina and I made our way across the street towards the main set of stairs leading to the front of the church. We stopped to look at a fountain and merry-go-round at the foot of the steps and then began our climb up. The stairs were several feet wide, made of concrete, and switch-backed several times before terminating outside the Sacré-Cœur.

Halfway up the staircase, a group of African guys approached us. We had actually already heard about them while researching Paris on TripAdvisor. Apparently, they tie bracelets on tourists and then demand money. We did our best to walk past them, but they quickly surrounded us. There were at least seven of them and they started asking us questions like: “Where are you from?” Since we had already heard about these guys, we immediately told them we weren’t interested and tried to walk past without stopping. Unluckily for us, they blocked our path and would not let us through. It became very obvious that these guys were not going to take no for an answer.

Two of the African dudes separated us and began tying bracelets to our wrists. I have to admit that the entire situation was very concerning. It was our very first day in France, we were supremely jet-lagged, and not in any state of mind to deal with a situation like this. I decided at this point that losing a few Euros was a more desirable outcome than getting beaten up. Or worse, them doing something to Devina. That’s why I let the guy tie the stupid thing to my wrist and told him I was from the US and blah blah blah. I was being extorted and felt helpless to stop it. When we read about these guys, I was expecting to only have to deal with one or two of them I figured they’d be easy enough to avoid. I thought we’d be able to politely refuse, ignore them, or just straight up walk right past them. That’s been my experience with these types of hussles I’ve dealt with in other places.

The African chap finally finished with the bracelet, which was made from simple string and had bands of colors running its length. I might’ve liked having it under other circumstances. Then he asked for money. Five or ten Euros if I remember right. Devina had my wallet, so I walked back over to her in the hopes that these guys would finally leave us the hell alone. They’d tied a bracelet onto her wrist as well, but Devina only pulled out the money for one bracelet. She told them that she did not want one and had already told them she would not be paying for it. My wife is fierce y’all. After a single tense moment, the African guys took the money and cut Devina’s bracelet off of her wrist. It was over. They walked away and didn’t say another word to us.  And with that, the one unpleasant incident in an otherwise fantastic trip to Paris ended.

We continued up the staircase and eventually reach the Sacré-Cœur. It was beautiful. The church itself is a large white building with domed spires and a tall bell tower. The basilica is part of the Roman Catholic Church and, as I said before, sits atop the Montmartre hill. Check out the pictures below. It was one of my favorite things we saw that trip. The view of the city from the church was also incredible. The hill provided a marvelous vantage point with the whole city laid out before us. It was a bright sunny morning, so that made my first view of Paris even more special.  There was a sea of buildings flooding everything within sight all the way to the horizon. We could even see the Eiffel Tower and the Notre Dame.

This view of La Gay Paris made me instantly forget about our run in with the bracelet people. There were cops patrolling all around the church, so I don’t think we were ever in any real danger. Those guys were just trying to make money, so their aggression was likely rooted in desperation. That doesn’t excuse their intimidating behavior and pressuring us into paying them though.

C’est la vie I suppose.

The view also made me think of everything we had planned for our visit: The Louvre, Champs-Élysées, Notre Dame, a ferry tour on the Seine. We would end up seeing many of the typical Parisian sights and spend our fair share of time people watching in various cafes. The two of us even spent an evening lost on the grounds of Versailles (but that’s another story entirely). And I wound up wearing that damn bracelet for the rest of our trip.

Lessons Learned:

• It’s perfectly okay to ask a stranger on the street for directions. They can help you out even if there’s a language barrier.
• Jet lag stinks! I mentioned this in my last post, but syncing your sleep cycle with the new time zone is the best way I’ve found to remedy jet lag. Sometimes that means spending a day dirty and tired.
• Free walking tours are a great way to learn the layout and background of a new city. We’ve taken a couple so far and they’ve been very educational and fun. You usually just have to tip your tour guide at the end.
• If you ever visit Montmartre and the Sacré-Cœur (I highly recommend both), the bracelet dudes are actually pretty easy to avoid. We would have been fine if we’d just taken any of the other streets/stairs that led to the church.
• Our whole trip to Paris was pretty great in all honesty. Everyone we interacted with were very nice and friendly, so we never encountered the stereotypical Parisian rudeness. It was well worth the trip and I hope to go back some day.