I love the title of this topic. I intended it as a double entendre. That is, first my traveller’s encounters for the past six weeks had stoked a fire of hate for the Parisians within that could melt the Eiffel Tower. Second, because of many of the gypsie scams/thefts that I was expecting to deal with in this city I was entirely prepared to deliver a Fight Club, Angel Face style beatdown to the first gypsie that laid a hand on me. And then when I starting describing the title with a haughty French word like “entendre” I felt that this journal’s written masturbation had hit its climax. But I digress.
But, the truth is, that in my first 24 hours here I have had none of the run-ins that I was prepared for. Perhaps it is just that the frogs’ bad reputation precedes them with a velocity and momentum that batters the listener into a state of semi-consciousness that is totally unaware of when the lesser wave of good reputation arrives. I am not sure. But I do know that this city’s beauty is undeniable, and all four of my first interactions have been pleasant, to the extreme. And the only finger-tying gypsie that approached me was rebuffed with a stern glare.
The last week has been kind of a blur to me. At one point I was in Strasbourg where they speak French but serve German food. Then it seemed that Brugge was at a convenient place on my map, and I woke up at the Hotel Lybeen with a drooling Sharpe puppy at my feet. A couple of days later I was standing on the battlements of a 12th century castle in the center of Gent, Belgium, without a tourist in site. Perhaps the fog of uncertainty was introduced somewhere in those 12 percent alcohol-by-volume Belgian beers that sneak their way onto your table.
Yesterday I walked a preposterous amount of Paris. I covered perhaps 10 km from my place next to the Moulin Rouge, to the top of Montemarte, and all the way over to the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre. And I did this with a moderately loaded pack. I walked so much that my knees hurt today. My feet, calves, and thighs were battered into submission somewhere in Hungary, but I have never had sore knees in my life. But apparently some cabal of leg components convinced my knees to raise an alarm that has been ignored in the past. I’ve now have a three-day metro pass so I should be able to give them a rest today.
Speaking of today, I’m going to Versailles in five minutes. I’ll knock out one more good site this evening (maybe the Eiffel tower) than force Rich into a one-hour line at some place like the Louvre on Sunday. But, it is possible that I’ll give him a say as to what we do. We’ll see. 🙂
I had a similarly pleasant experience in Paris, too. Perhaps I’m just unaware of them mumbling curses under their breath when I’m not looking / listening, but every person I met in Paris was friendly and helpful. Oh, except for the other American tourists. They were generally a bunch of jackasses – track suits and “trainers”, and a lot of bad attitude. I was pleased that the Americans assumed I was French without exception – so perhaps I’ve got some frog’s blood pulsing in my veins. Or maybe I can dress myself a shade better than the average K-Mart addict.
See you soon, Scott!
Rich