France 2024

November 11, 2024, Monday. Both Istanbul and Paris!

I’m flying with a colleague, Yerbol, to a conference in France! A rare occasion when the trip is paid for by work, not out of pocket. Even if it’s only for a few days.
My first visit to the EU — so exciting! To get the visa, I had to travel twice from Kurchatov to Astana and back: first to submit the documents, then to pick them up. And I barely made it in time — I needed to get my passport back before my October vacation, which also involved a trip abroad.
We’re flying with Turkish Airlines, with a layover in Istanbul. A three-hour transfer there, and no need to collect the luggage. The transfer zone is huge, packed with shops and cafés, but the prices at IST airport are wild — even for plain water. A modest fast-food meal at McDonald’s cost 10–12 thousand tenge. I heard that for longer layovers with Turkish Airlines you can use a special “Care Point” service where they feed you for free, but maybe by 2026 this option no longer exists.
Our flight was delayed, so we had to wait some more. Drawn by the noise, we witnessed quite a show — a pair of clumsy idiots literally tumbling on the escalator. They try to get up and immediately roll back down, along with their suitcases. And they’re laughing nonstop the whole time. Clearly dead drunk, barely “crawling on their eyebrows.”
Near the gate, Turkish Airlines representatives were walking around, pestering everyone, trying to persuade people to give up their seats for 200–300 euros for unlucky passengers affected by overbooking. An unpleasant sight — it really doesn’t do the airline any credit. And we have business to attend to; no matter what, we have to be in Paris today.
And at security, both on the way there and back, for some reason they kept taking swabs from Yerbol’s hand for analysis. Probably decided he was a drug courier XD
Finally, we took off. On a big, majestic A330. Flying on a wide-body aircraft is great — more space, and rows with just two seats by the window — perfect )

I was filling up with the realization that I was finally flying to that very Europe, with anticipation of a world-famous destination. Even the clouds outside the window seemed especially fluffy. And on approach, I was eagerly examining the crisp outlines of real French villages and towns. The houses are clustered so tightly together — just like in the game Carcassonne.)
Charles de Gaulle Airport, 25 km from Paris, greeted us with huge lines, surprisingly bright green lawns, and the silhouette of the famous Concorde on the airfield. I was also surprised by the strange web of walkways and slanted moving walkways, as if woven into an intricate network, and by the distinctive, practical design style — with no concern for glamour or modern. Seeing a bare concrete wall with pipes right in the middle of a passenger hall is completely normal here.

We got from the airport to Paris by RER train. The ticket costs about 11 euros. Interestingly, there’s a free tram running from the terminal to the train station.
The station names sound like declarations of love. Such a beautiful language!
In the city center, we transferred to the metro — spent a long time figuring out how to pay for the ride and where our station was. A terrible jumble of intertwined lines and passages. I caught a local mademoiselle and tried to figure things out with her — in French (mostly). I can’t say I got precise answers, but somehow we understood each other, which was surprising. And pleasant.)
It’s not cold in Paris today, +13°C, but in the metro there’s a cool draft the whole way. I was again afraid of catching a cold — I already have a whole pile of pills with me as it is.

By sunset, we finally reached our hotel, Mansion Eugénie. A lovely, cozy place surrounded by baroque six-story buildings, with rooms in the Napoleon III style, just a couple of steps from Pont Cardinet station in Paris’s 17th arrondissement. Accommodation costs 530 euros for 3 nights — good thing it’s paid for by work. A tiny elevator, a narrow staircase. Old, even antique furniture, interesting décor. Aesthetic drawings and tiny balconies overlooking the city streets. And in the bathroom, behind the curtain, there’s also a floor-to-ceiling window with access to a little balcony. Apparently, that’s also part of refined French style.)
After leaving our things in the rooms, we wandered through narrow streets, admiring the architecture and antiquity; marveling at the number of joggers in T-shirts in the middle of November. We ordered a Frutti di Mare pizza for 15 euros for the two of us — twice as expensive as in Montenegro. But after Istanbul airport prices, it doesn’t seem scary anymore.)

Later in the evening, I went out for a walk on my own — couldn’t miss such an opportunity.) And of course, I headed for the most popular attraction in the world! I planned to take bus 30, but after 9 p.m. they apparently don’t run anymore. The metro and trains, however, operate until 1 a.m.
I figured them out — turns out everything is clear and convenient. I bought tickets from the machines: single-use ticket+, 2.15 euros for all Paris zones, valid for 90 minutes — great for transfers. I didn’t bother getting a transport card — I probably won’t be riding that much anyway.
It’s funny how the narrow paper ticket gets instantly swallowed by the turnstile and then spat back out. And the machine even gives change, in coins.
I did miss my train at first — it stopped too far away and managed to leave. But another one came 15 minutes later. Also double-decker.)

In the new blue RER Île-de-France trains, there are USB ports for charging — very convenient. In the old red ones, there aren’t. The yellow line C takes you almost to the Champ de Mars–Eiffel Tower station. I walked a couple hundred meters, and then, from around the corner, it emerged — the beauty wrapped in amber light: the Eiffel Tower. Probably not only the most famous, but also the most visited tourist attraction in the world. So strange to see it with my own eyes. Huge, majestic, and at the same time elegant. A perfect embodiment and symbol of Parisian refinement, which can be felt here literally in everything. From narrow windows with wrought-iron grilles in old houses to long coats and elegant backpacks worn by Parisians. In architecture, you feel it instantly. Of course, there are modern garish developments and tasteless buildings, but that’s definitely not about the central districts.

Every hour, for five minutes, the tower lights up with myriads of sparkling white lights, like a giant decorated Christmas tree. And at the top, a powerful spotlight spins like a lighthouse, cutting through the night sky.
The Champ de Mars is completely fenced off, as is the base of the tower — you can’t just walk through anymore, which is a pity. Heard that it wasn’t like this before. But even so, the view is wonderful. It’s hard to believe that I’m really here.

November 12, 2024, Tuesday. The Conference and the Eiffel Tower Again

In the morning — straight to the conference. We had breakfast at our hotel on the ground floor, looking through the panoramic windows at a picturesque scene of Parisians and tourists hurrying about their business, cyclists and runners. The streets are wet, covered with golden fallen leaves. There are still plenty of them on the trees, even green ones — they beautifully set off the beige color of the elegant façades of Parisian buildings. And the buses are the same as in Astana.)

For lunch at the IBIS, where our conference is being held, they serve various greens, potatoes, vegetables, and a tasty dessert with raspberries and cream. But there doesn’t seem to be much meat.) And of course, coffee is served always and everywhere. Good coffee, made in a coffee machine. We get used to it over these days. After lunch, while there was still time, we took a short walk through Clichy–Batignolles Park — lots of secluded corners, paths, ups and downs. Runners keep appearing from every direction. There are surprisingly many of them here! Noticed special “little houses” for books — apparently bookcrossing — and bicycles have amazingly thin tires. There are also many bakeries around — boulangeries. Red awnings over the outdoor tables at cafés. And a couple of times we saw croissants scattered right on the pavement. Apparently the most common treat here.

We presented our work on the very first day, right at the end. By evening, people start dispersing from the conference — everyone wants to go for a walk.) So there weren’t many listeners left for us. And then we headed back to the Eiffel Tower again, this time – together.
The base of the tower is occupied by street vendors, mostly Africans. And their prices are even lower than in the nearby souvenir shops. The most popular souvenir is, of course, a copy of the tower. In all possible sizes and colors. Naturally, we bought some too.) By the way, “souvenir” is a French word meaning a memory.

Near the tower itself we met Tatiana, also known as Alice, now practically a local. The last time we saw each other was in Tomsk, during my studies at TPU. We brought her some treats from Kazakhstan, at a friend’s request — her former groupmate. She also showed us how to get past the transparent fences right under the tower — the entrance there was free. But to go up by elevator, you have to stand in line and pay 30 euros or more, depending on how high you go.
And we also saw a rat. A well-fed one, darting briskly across the lawn toward the tower. Probably a normal thing here, but for us it was unexpected.))
The space under the tower is open to all four winds; a strong cold wind is constantly blowing. And the delicate lattice of the tower’s massive supports converges above at a dizzying height.
Right in the center, under the tower, you can scan a QR code and meet the digital phantom of its creator, Monsieur Eiffel. He tells the story of the tower’s difficult construction, the resistance of Parisians who, imagine that, believed the silhouette of the 300-meter giant spoiled the panorama of their beloved city. He also speaks about the threat of demolition, and about the tower’s important role during the most turbulent periods in the history of 20th-century Paris.

November 13, 2024, Wednesday. The Arc de Triomphe, Notre-Dame, and the Latin Quarter

For breakfast (a buffet), honey, jams, and chocolate spread are served in tiny little glass jars. We pocketed a few — very handy little containers! You can use them as salt shakers, for example. Or to store spices.

Сидим у самого окна –будто в аквариуме. Круглый столик притулился у стеклянной стены, а за ней – суета улицы де Ром (Рима). Прохожие на нас глазеют, пробегая мимо, а мы – на них)
We’re sitting right by the window — like in an aquarium. A small round table is tucked up against the glass wall, and beyond it there’s the bustle of Rue de Rome. Passersby glance at us as they hurry past, and we look back at them.)
Today at the conference there are section talks, in different rooms. People start disappearing even before lunch, but we left after — we also wanted to see and experience as much as possible before tomorrow’s departure, and preferably in daylight.
First stop — the metro to the Arc de Triomphe! It’s not that far from our 17th arrondissement. Majestic, enormous — about 50 meters high, laid down back in Napoleon’s time — it rises at the intersection of 12 streets that radiate outward like the points of a star. Access to the arc is only via an underground passage; above ground there’s a constant ring of traffic. The walls are entirely decorated with bas-reliefs, ornaments, and inscriptions — a whole history of victories carved in stone.

Climbing the Arc de Triomphe costs 20 euros. We thought there might be an elevator — but no, it’s all stairs. Yerbol was especially indignant about this: “What’s this, you pay and still have to climb up?”)) But the entire roof is a viewing platform with an absolutely stunning view! The streets of Paris and the Eiffel Tower lie before you like on the palm of your hand — which is especially great, since from the tower itself you can’t actually see it. On rooftops everywhere there are leisure areas, parks with trees, cozy little gardens. Space here is worth its weight in gold. And the streets below are filled to the brim with the crowns of spreading trees.

Despite late autumn, there are lots of people on the viewing platform. It’s cold and windy; you have to wrap yourself in a scarf, but the view is worth it. An enchanting panorama of the city unfolds at your feet. The sunset is absolutely mesmerizing: the sky subtly changes, through gradients and color shifts, from soft pink and bluish lilac, gradually flaring into amber flames that illuminate stunning crimson, velvety clouds. It feels as if aesthetics and charm, reflected in color, fill both the air and the sky above the city — such noble and refined combinations of shades I’ve seen only here, as if nature itself carefully maintains the style, like an artist, granting the viewer pure aesthetic bliss. How much this is lacking for a starving aesthete’s soul!.. And here — it’s simply a fest.



Inside the Arc de Triomphe itself there’s even a full museum dedicated to the history of its creation, as well as a shop with a rich assortment of souvenirs. It was here that I bought another 15-centimeter Eiffel Tower, on a colleague’s request, and for myself – a 0-euro banknote featuring the Arc de Triomphe itself, to my collection. Such a banknote costs 2.5 euros (quite a business, XD), but it’s still cheaper than the smallest real 5-euro bill.

Already at dusk, once again by metro, we went to the famous Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris — though the word “famous” applies to almost every tourist site in Paris, and to the city itself. The cathedral, located on an island in the middle of the Seine, was still under restoration after the fire, but most of the façade had already been repaired. The completion of the works and the grand reopening were expected literally within a month. For now, we could walk around it, admiring the majestic Gothic architecture and the multicolored stained-glass rose windows glowing from within.


Night walks across the bridges over the Seine are a pleasure of their own — watching the golden glow of streetlamps and buildings reflected in the dark water as countless paths of light. I was also struck by an indescribably magical, mystical moon hanging above the towers of City Hall — the Hôtel de Ville — like something out of a vampire movie. The moon here is generally fantastic; I noticed that on the very first night. The scenery matches it perfectly — and, most importantly, it’s all real.

We had dinner in a very cramped little café, which is not uncommon in old quarters. To go to the restroom, for example, you had to climb a narrow, steep spiral wooden staircase squeezed into a shaft between walls, only to find a tiny sink at the end.) After the three hundred steps of the Arc de Triomphe, any new ascent feels like a challenge.
After dinner, Yerbol decided to return to the hotel, but I hadn’t walked enough yet. I explained the way back to him, but still decided to walk with him to the station first and put him on the train, just to be sure he’d get there without adventures. And, just in case, I sent him a photo of our hotel. As it turned out — not in vain.)
We had to walk quite a bit to Châtelet metro station, including a long stretch underground. From there it was just a ride to Pont Cardinet, and that was it. But Yerbol managed to leave the metro through a different exit and discovered that everything around him was unfamiliar. He headed in the direction of the IBIS hotel (or so he thought), but things didn’t get any clearer. Then Yerbol accosted some girls with the question, “Do you speak English??” They said yes — but that was exactly where his English ended, so he continued explaining things to them in Kazakh. Naturally, with very little chance of success. But where language fails, gestures always come to the rescue! It was enough to point at the photo with the hotel name.) And then look at the route that was built on the map. In short, it wasn’t without adventures. But I only heard about that later.
Meanwhile, I once again headed across the bridges over the Seine, past Notre-Dame, to at least walk a little through the Latin Quarter.

It’s so wonderful just to flaneur through the city, to go wherever your eyes lead you, surrounded by refined façades of old buildings — as if strolling through an open-air museum that is, nonetheless, alive and inhabited. Even from here, you can see the mighty searchlight from the Eiffel Tower cutting through the sky beneath the clouds. The beam rotates above the city, adding a touch of phantasmagoria to the enchanting panorama.
I wanted to go into the Luxembourg Garden, but unfortunately parks are closed in the evenings. Still, I made it to the Panthéon — a majestic, ancient-looking structure in Romanesque style. I wanted to linger by its massive columns, wander around a bit more, stay in this place, in this atmosphere. Tomorrow, after all, it’s time to depart.

In the metro, people again tried to speak to me in French. They keep mistaking me for a local.) And the language — it’s pure music. It feels so natural; it makes you want to speak it.

November 14, 2024, Thursday. A Seine cruise and Montmartre

Today is departure day, but our flight isn’t until the evening. A whole day ahead! In the morning, from the Eiffel Tower (we seem to end up there every day), we set off on a one-hour cruise along the Seine. I booked it in advance on Booking; the tickets cost about 15–16 euros per person. But you can also buy them directly at the pier. The Bateaux Parisiens ferries run constantly, from the Champ de Mars to Notre-Dame, turning around past Île Saint-Louis.

An audio guide accompanies the cruise, telling stories about the bridges and buildings along the route — and each of them has such a vivid, rich history! Trocadéro, the Grand Palais, the National Assembly, the Luxor Obelisk, the Alexander III Bridge (named after the Russian tsar), the Pont Neuf, the Musée d’Orsay, the Louvre, and of course Notre-Dame.
It’s windy and cold on the river, but people sit out on the open upper deck, enjoying the view. I was hit by a coughing fit — of all things, I managed to catch a cold right before the trip! But I simply ignored feeling unwell — no time for that at all.) There was too much beauty around!

Under the Eiffel Tower, we stocked up on a few more souvenirs. For some reason, when the African vendors see Yerbol, they immediately switch to Russian, calling out: «Братуха! Э-эй, братуха-а! 1 евро купили-продам!..» X) We also ran into some gypsies who, under the guise of collecting donations for orphans, try to squeeze money out of tourists — and possibly help themselves to the contents of their pockets. I ended up losing 2 euros that way. Best not to engage with persistent pleas and just walk past.
In the cramped interior of a Parisian café just a couple of steps from the Champ de Mars, we ordered cod fillet, fondue, and paella rice. L’addition, s’il vous plaît!.. Merci beaucoup!
We returned to the hotel. Yerbol stayed there, and I — with a burning desire to visit at least somewhere else, to see something more — headed off to Montmartre! To the majestic Sacré-Cœur Basilica (I didn’t even realize at the time that this was it), the garden of street artists, and the absolutely wonderful viewing spot — the staircase on the hill, from which a spellbinding view of Paris opens up, its distant expanse glowing in the light of the setting sun.
I simply went to a point on the map with a famous name — and discovered it for myself, seeing it truly, in real life, for the very first time. The best way to enjoy a discovery 🙂

The basilica felt to me like some kind of fantasy palace lifted straight from a book and brought into reality. And the staircase — like a public space for collective enjoyment of the moment. Just sit down on a step, devouring a waffle dessert and admiring the view, accompanied by guitar melodies. And then carry that moment away with you.)

On the way back, taking advantage of the opportunity, I bought a couple of bottles of Andalusian wine. And right on Montmartre I encountered the most expensive toilet — a full 2 euros! X)
Russian-speaking tourists in line for metro tickets apologized to me in French (!), for the long wait. And I myself, just before leaving for the airport, even managed to place an order in a café at the station entirely in French, without giving away my ignorance of the language.

An interesting detail: a ticket from the city on the RER train to the airport costs over 10 euros. But since metro and train stations are interconnected, in theory you can reach the airport on a regular 2.15-euro ticket. The catch is that tickets must also be validated on exit — and the turnstile won’t let you into the airport. You’ll have to form a little “train” and squeeze through together X) As for tickets in general, over these few days I rode so much that I really should have bought a transport pass. Though I never did get a chance to ride a bus.
We’re flying out of the same Charles de Gaulle Airport, this time with Air France. And I have the feeling that I’m leaving home. Everything around feels so fitting, so familiar, so mine. Everything you see for the first time and can’t help but fall in love with — the sense of taste and style, the language and architecture, the culture, cuisine, music…

France unexpectedly gave me an amazing feeling that no other country had ever fully given me before. The way locals look at me, perceive me — as if I belong to France, as if I’m just leaving home for a while. People try to speak to me in French. Even in Istanbul. Even Russians do. And they take me for one of their own. Even a taxi driver in my hometown, and the security staff boarding a domestic flight from Astana to Semey. An amazing and pleasant feeling. I’d love to warm myself in its rays more often.
I’m leaving with a burning desire to return.
For a second date with France.

November 15, 2024, Friday. Turkey Again

We spent the night at the Chambers of the Boheme hostel, conveniently located near Taksim Square. How many times have I stayed here already! And of course, I’ll come back again. An ideal option for a layover.
The lira exchange rate has changed dramatically since my last visit — from about 35 tenge per lira to around 13. And prices have gone up significantly. A night bus from the airport (IST, 40 km away) to Taksim, for example, costs 204 lira (5.5 euros). Meanwhile, the metro, which starts running from 6 a.m., is reportedly about five times cheaper. And the euro-to-lira exchange rate at the airport is inflated by 15–20%.

In the morning, Yerbol and I managed to take a walk. I showed him a bit of autumn Istanbul. We went down Istiklal Street, watched huge flocks of seagulls along the waterfront, fishermen casting their lines from the bridge. A young couple having a photo shoot, dressed completely out of season. We even had time to warm up in a café on the lower level of the bridge. And then we had to climb back up the slope, huffing and puffing on endless stairs, because public transport stubbornly refused to match the Google Maps schedule. And as always in Turkey — cats everywhere. They even have their own little houses here, communal birdhouse-style shelters.

We flew back with Air Astana, on a long-range A321 LR with a stylish “black mask” around the cockpit windows. Air Astana’s service is beyond praise. The food on board is good, and they also hand out useful little gifts — a sleep mask, earplugs, an inflatable neck pillow, and cool bright socks.)