AS English Coursework

 

Paris Parfaite

 

 

 

It was time.  Excitement bubbled inside of me as I could just see the edge of the land. A whole new country. A whole new experience. People were rushing around buying snacks and presents from duty free. Mothers chased after their young ones shouting their name’s getting no response in return. I was just taking it all in. The waves, the sunlight, the sharp, cool breeze. It hit my face giving me chills down my back whilst my hair waved behind me out of control. I smiled slightly. This was the dawn of summer.

It was the first day we were going into Disneyland Paris. It was budding morning and even strolling up to the park gates, excitement was bubbling inside me. The pale orange sun was rising in front of the hinted blue sky ready to start a new day. The classic Disney music playing soothingly in the background somehow made queuing a whole lot easier to put up with. I looked around taking in the artwork. The Mickey Mouse head discretely hidden in the freshly sprayed paving tiles had obviously been hand carved into each and every square inch of the park. The character of the grand hotel stood bold amongst the shining light from the sun. It had a pale pink base coat topped with a white curved rim around the whole of the building. People flooded inside determined to catch a glimpse of what it held. It really was a whole new land. ‘Good morning and welcome to Disney Land Paris’. Each employee smiled and thanked every entrée of the park keeping their character. Their pleated gowns graced the floor of the grounds whilst their hair was tightly curled and pinned against their head. They wore name badges surrounded by Disney collector’s pins glimmering in the sunlight, it caught my eye. We entered the gates keeping tight the ticket in my palm. I looked down the street with quirky buildings either side marking the way to the castle. Sleeping beauty’s castle was standing elevated in the centre. Its flags gently swayed with the movement of the breeze. Its towers touched the sky and its entrance was open. I                          walked towards it not letting it leave my sight. The smell of popcorn swiftly flew past me making me lose concentration for a second. There was sweet candy floss, salty chips, mouth-watering chicken and bright multi-coloured sweets all freshly wrapped and displayed on old fashioned carts. I could taste the Disney air.

The sun radiated down on me making my head toast. The heat smothered my face as the beams from the sun made me squint making it hard for me to see. I gazed up at the sky seeing the faint image of a Mickey Mouse balloon floating in the distance. I could hear the softened weeps of a child who had undoubtedly lost their balloon. It was busy - swamped with people from around the globe.  People had already started queuing to meet their favourite characters. I joined them in the wait. A grin grew on my face as Minnie Mouse emerged from the back drop. She waved and blew kisses to her little fans at the front of the line. There were people of all ages here; young couples, families, school trips, anyone. We all waited patiently one behind the other trying to get a glimpse of Minnie. Her red bow sat perfectly in between her ears and her spotty dress swiftly spun with every movement she made. I would never be too old for this. I could see the passion on everyone’s faces as they got closer to the front of the line. The wait was definitely worthwhile.

It wouldn’t be right if we didn’t visit the heart of Paris so the next day that’s what we set out to do. We comfortably settle on the train prepared for the day ahead. As I glanced around I could see us gradually getting closer to the craziness of the capital. Our first stop was the Arc De Triumph. We made our way underground ignoring the smell of week old human waste and made our way to the peak of the monument. The spiral staircase seemed to go on forever surrounded by cold, worn, stone bricks. I shivered. From the top we could see for miles. Each road that branched away from the monument was packed with cars, bicycles and pedestrians all heading to their own destination. I could see each individual street lined with the original paving stones. The Eiffel tower stood tall reaching up to the galaxy. It looked somehow modest from our point of view. Each piece of architecture had its own unique design marking the frame of each street. I played historic French music in my head blocking out the horns from the people who obviously weren’t as glad as I was to be here. It’s hard to believe we are in the same world as back home, everything’s so different here. Good different.

We were on our way trying to map out our route. Everything you could dream of was here in one city. There were cafes on every street joint with people dining inside. As I walked past I could smell the freshly baked croissants and cakes pulling me into the café. I could taste the coffee in the air as the staff rushed around shouting to each other – ‘How may I help you ma ’dam’ Somehow they even made English, our own language, sound better than when we speak it ourselves. Just across the street, a millionaire’s playground stood holding boutiques only the richest could afford to enter. I peered inside catching a glimpse of the handmade Gucci bags coated in a glossy finish. I could only dream. I was surrounded by artwork. I could see authentic designs with engravings imbedded inside, each telling their own story. Compared to the grubby, grim office blocks in London, this was incredible. London seemed nothing to me right now.

We made our way towards the Eiffel Tower, stretching our necks backwards to try and get the best view of it. I look around as people queued for miles to be able to reach the top. Cameras were flashing in all directions as people fight to take the best shot, not actually looking at the beauty with their own eyes. I turned 360 degrees taking in every inch of culture around me. We made our way down the river. Each bridge that stretched over the complete width of the water was made differently. We passed some markets full of people browsing goods, whilst sellers holler out all different prices at them trying to make some sells for their living. One bridge stood out to me; The lock bridge. We made our way on top of the platform, as my eyes brushed over every individual lock with its own biography. There were love memos, names and even proposals amongst the writing. You would not find this anywhere else in the world but Paris.

I will return here permanently one day.