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travellingpeen-blog · 7 years

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35.5 Hours in Paris

I sit here in a french café at 5:45 in the afternoon. In the past 35.75 hours I have witnessed the beauty that is Notre Dam, the ruthless efficiency of Paris’ metro system, and a man screaming while being arrested. When I committed to seeing the “real” Paris I didn’t realize how stressful that would be.

One of the first things I noticed about Paris is how often I hear the HACKS of coughing. At first I thought it was because they are all chain-smokers, but that’s not it. After walking outside yesterday I too had a coughing fit, which i could quickly tell came from all the cars on the road and the smog. I had heard of Paris smog, but it was truly something to witness. Of course, while I was choked by smog I was also often harassed by beggars. They are unrelentless and won’t hesitate to jab you for money - it’s terrifying and they’re everywhere. I made the cardinal sin of giving one money, but not enough because she followed me ten meters down the road demanding for more.

Last night I fought the rain to go to a gay bar. After paying 10 euros for a drink (it was strong but not worth it) the only thing I got were uncomfortable gazes by no fewer than 3 older men. I left soon, but not after being pelted with rain. I spent considerable time in vain searching for an umbrella (despite realizing too late that all shops being closed at 8). That’s something else about the French; they don’t work much. Shops close early - Sundays AND Tuesdays are days of rest, along with May first (today) and the first of many other months (just my luck that I arrived in Paris on Sunday and am leaving on Tuesday). The country that gives their people 35 hour work weeks also gives travelers countless headaches when they discover their museums open at 10 and close at 5:30 (on a good day), if they are open at all. I did find my umbrella this morning, but finding an american-to-french power outlet/inlet converter was another story.

Before I got on my flight I told myself that if I ever forget anything, that I should not worry because I can always buy it. Well that is obviously wrong in France. Like I mentioned the French don’t work on May first unless you serve food or work for their great metro system. No electronics stores are open, no pharmacies, no banks, not even one of the 5 comic book/manga shops I’ve seen in the past 35 hours was open. After I exited a metro stop and found that it was underneath a mall I thought I had hit the holy grail - boy was I wrong. Only the McDonalds was open. As I exited the mall and walked around the shopping district a had the pleasure of watching a man screaming while being handcuffed and dragged by police out of a police station, which is across the street from an adult DVD shop because PornHub must not come in French yet. Halfway through my search for a charger I gave up, went to Versailles, then had a heart attack while between hedges as I realized that I left my passport and medications in the safety box of the hostel that I checked out of this morning. This ended up being a blessing in disguise because while I was on my third metro line transfer back to the hostel I saw an open phone accessory store across the street - I almost cried. After I paid 5 euros for my outlet converter I felt a wave of relief wash over my body. I was so elated that I even got off on the wrong metro line back to the hostel.

Now I get to rest at this french café and write my blog. I must have passed at least 30 cafés and bars searching for just the right one before I got here. It’s Brioche Dorée and while the pastries are good it is the soft rock music that makes this place heaven; I’m glad I was picky with my café choice. I’ve decided I am going to stay here until my MisterBnB is ready. MisterBnB is the gay version of AirBnB. I am going to sleep on some gay guys’ air mattress in a suburb outside this godforsaken city for 15$ (by far the cheapest bed I’ll ever get). It’ll should be ready when he gets back from work at 20:00 - which is 8-o-clock in american-speak.

As I look back on my day and a half, I realize how grateful I am that I am not Parisian. Their air is hardly breathable, their parks are nonexistent and where they do exist they are filled with angry beggars and thralls of tourists. There is absolutely 0 urban planning: malls are next to factories which are next to highways which are next to apartments which are usually covered graffiti. The only thing that keeps this city going is the metro system - it’s open about 20 hours a day everyday and goes as far as the eye can see.

In spite of all my complaints, I’ll come back again. But it won’t be until the day where I am rich enough to stay in nice hotels, travel by taxi, and eat at overpriced restaurants .

#paris #death #ahhhhh

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