Well, I made it. Barcelona airport was a breeze, but a bore and the pilot we had managed the gentlest landing I think I’ve ever experienced. I slept virtually the entire flight seeing as I was up late blogging for you lot. Paris Charles de Gaulle (not Saint Germain… that’s a football team) is another behemoth based on a ring pattern, I think. There’s a central column filled with criss-crossed escalators. It’s the only airport I can recall being to which tells you how long you have to wait at the baggage carousel for your items to be transferred from the plane.
The train station was reached via a free monorail thing and is a pain in the neck to navigate. All the escalators are surrounded by a glass wall and it’s impossible to see where the gaps are to get to the platform. Having said that, I think you’re actually supposed to go through the barriers which may explain why my EURO1.40 ticket still worked the next morning. It was around 10pm when I got to my hostel near the Hoche Metro station. Thanks to Delphine for doing the research for me as I didn’t have time in Barcelona.
I checked in, grabbed a burger and some munchies from nearby shops and retired. Only to be woken at 1:30 by the entire population of my room (plus one extra person) crashing in and talking with the lights on. I think I got them back by snoring all night as my head cold’s worked it’s way into my sinuses and throat. Joy.