The washing powder smell

It´s Paris, it´s raining, and every five minutes there´s an overpowering smell of washing powder. Quite strange really. Maybe the people walk around with small packets in their pockets to cover the smell of the ever-present cigarettes. The first full day in Paris was the only one with no rain. I think the city was trying to lull us into a false sense of security. Then it smashed us in the face with an almost unintelligible rail system, and the fact that despite all advertising and word of mouth, almost no-one here speaks English. Thankyou highschool French, for being the only way we could tell our cab driver the address of our second hotel in France.

The first hotel was "interesting". You´d be mistaken for thinking that a double room in a hotel that was costing €100 a night would have a double bed. This place had a single sofa bed... and a roll out trundle bed underneath that. Suffice it to say we were unimpressed, and had we not prepaid before we left Sydney we would not have stayed. At least it was close to the train station... of course we caught a cab from there.