A Smelly Australian in Paris

All through this trip I haven’t booked anything. It was not so much a plan as a philosophy, and while it was stupid, childish and landed me in the shit quite a lot, I also enjoyed the fact that it put me in unusual situations. I broke my code by booking two nights in Paris but left the first night free. I had decided to shun sleep for the night and see the city without the crowds. I arrived in central Paris at 11 pm. As I left the station I saw a man practicing his machete moves, with a machete. This wasn’t an encouraging sign so I left for friendlier turf.

My first task was to stash my bag somewhere. I found a great spot near the bridge opposite the Louvre and behind some rubble. Burden-free I was left to wander along the bank spotting the similarities between Paris and London. The two cities feel remarkably similar to me and even have similar landmarks: the Louvre and the National Gallery; Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey; the Eiffel Tower and the Millennium Wheel. When I arrived at the Eiffel Tower at midnight it was still full of people looking up or sitting on the grass and getting drunk. Parisiennes love staying out late and it’s a great city to wander around in. 24 hour internet and cafes reminded me that cities can be useful places to be.

At about 2 am I headed back to where my bag was and looked out over the river. Below the concrete barrier overlooking the path on the bank was a metre wide ledge. I took advantage of it to have a nap 20 feet off the ground. It was a nice spot but scared the shit out of me when I woke up. From my perch I watched countless single men wandering along the bank and I started to wonder whether gay paree had a double meaning. At that point I might have considered selling me ass for a bed so it was lucky I didn’t get any offers. A man poked his head over the wall but when he saw me he just gave a little ‘Ahh’ of surprise and left. He was probably familiar with the hotel situation in Paris.

Time passed pretty quickly that night. Most of it was spent trying to sort out transport to Amsterdam and with that complete I took a dawn stroll down to Notre Dame. It looked great in the soft light and now I just needed to find the hostel which would let me go to bed at 2 pm.

Before that I completed the small chore of washing my clothes. The laundry was warm after the slightly chilly night air and as I sat in the chair holding my head the reflections in the washing machine started to wave at me. I was too tired to wave back so I just sat there and looked at them.

I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at the Paris metro map. You should try it after being awake for 21 hours. My pack felt a lot heavier than normal, my shoulders ached, my legs ached, my head was sore. I sat on the trains feeling grey with grey bags under my eyes. I got to the hostel to confirm that it actually existed then went to the park to snooze for four hours.

My slumber was interrupted by a small girl trying to sell me a free magazine. She talked to me in French and I talked to her in English. She wasn’t put off by the fact that we couldn’t understand each other but eventually wandered off. She returned later with her sisters to marvel at the foreign freak. I brushed off my high school French with a “je ne parle pas français” which was met with murmurs of surprise which increased when I said “anglais”. They whispered anglais amongst themselves as they wandered off.

After sleeping in the hostel for a while I awoke in the gloaming and briefly wandered around the outer suburb I was housed in before dining on a kebab. It was like being back in London.

Today has been spent fulfilling my tourist duties. Notre Dame has spectacular stained glass and the Louvre has the Mona Lisa. Please excuse me if I’m being some kind of philistine but I don’t understand why that painting is so popular. A whimsical smile seems to turn a lot of people on. I preferred the Islamic art and I would take a mogul dagger or engraved Iranian bowl over most of the paintings there.

Paris itself is a great city, which pleasantly surprised me. It’s probably shit to live in but for a few days it dazzles the senses. It probably beats London it the ‘cool cities’ competition and is miles ahead in the ‘heads so far up their own asses that they can’t see daylight’ competition.

Europe is drawing to a close now and all that remains is a hallucinogenic weekend in the Dam staring at sunflowers and a week to say goodbye to Old Blighty.

Dave out.

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