I arrived in Paris last night lost and confused. Barcelona was the perfect size. But Paris presented me with a challenge that I had trouble facing. I don't speak French and it seems they don't either. The station entrance is packed tight with crooks and scam artists waiting to either get you a taxi or as one man claimed " I can get you good hashish, like this" he said pointing to his thumb. It's not that I'm not used to this from Barcelona and Africa but without any reasonably priced hostel, darkness creeping in, and identical streets I lost it. After some help from my most trustworthy friends (my parents) and their access of a computer, the night ended with me cooking curried turkey scrambled eggs at Le Village Hostel. Now I'm in Euston terminal taking advantage of free wifi and relaxing. I have three hours to kill before I board a train to Hollyhead in north-west Britain. Then a ferry to Dublin. With every train I board I feel it getting colder but as my brother says "sucks to suck."
-Chad A. Dokken
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