I hate planes, I almost passed out at one point when I looked out of the window and saw the solid ground 30,000 feet below me.
After quite a mission getting on and off at the right stops, we arrived at Bastille. Which is where my terrible French came into play.
It took us about half an hour to find the youth hostel, but on the way we found an amazing crepe place, and therefore had to stop for a banana, sugar and butter one. So freakin’ tasty.
As for the youth hostel: it’s weird. But good weird.
It’s like a little apartment with 2 floors and it’s own bathroom (which is hideously tiny, less than 2 feet by 2 feet).
The only problem is that there’s 4 beds and only 3 of us, so we have to have a random stranger in with us. But she’s a Brazilian exchange model in the bed below me… So who am I to complain?