Paris: Eurostar

Have you ever got on the Tube and witness poor souls racing to haul their luggage onto the train before the doors shut? Then you realise: they’re taking up a quarter of the bloody space. Well, imagine that but instead of one annoying traveller, there are seven of them. My family decided, much to my dismay and hypocriticalness, that we would take the underground all the way to St Pancras. It would not have been as bad if they all walked at my ‘rushing’ pace, or if there weren’t any stairs that we had to conquer, but sadly there were. After mentally cursing my family for a bunch of stupid things they did including disrupting the London flow (e.g. getting a bag trapped at a barrier), eventually we made it onto the Eurostar.

The Eurostar was not how I remembered it to be. The journey felt longer, the seats were not luxurious and there wasn’t much space. Then again, to an eight year old anywhere can be your playground. However, I was shocked with the fact that there was no wifi and it was because we were not first-class. My cousin, let’s call her Happy, and I heavily contemplated upgrading but an epiphany happened and the image of my bank balance appeared so vividly in my eyes. It was too late to upgrade anyway. So I sat, tried hard to battle my motion sickness and hoped for my Spotify to suddenly work, but alas I had to result to watching the world blur past me, disappearing for moments when we were in tunnels, then when light was revived it only managed to blind me.

When I wasn’t chastising myself for leaving my book in my bag far away, my thoughts were on Paris. Would I enjoy Disneyland?  What about the language barrier? Would my family and I be safe? Would I accidentally find love and elope? Would I cry on the way back to reality? Would I be able to go to the top of the Eiffel and not fall to the pit of my death? After all, I’m very accident prone. Only after seeing the sign ‘Marne-la-Vallée’ did I realise we had reached the destiantion. When I stepped out the station I was greeted by a sea of tourists all rushing to get on, cars circling and occasionally honking due to their impatience (or because other drivers were infuriatingly dumb), but the highlight of my warm welcoming to Disney were the group of rather attractive teenagers leaning against the walls of the train station. Sadly, I had to remind myself that I was with family and accept that no matter how intense the eye contacts I made were, the love would be forever lost.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s