The Inaccurate Tourist

37. My Arrival (Guest Writer: GPC)

Paris is the city of smells. Though some are pleasant, many are not. Here in no particular order are the worst of the smells:

1. Dog poo. The French do not like to clean up for their pooch friends - and the rotting remains of Alpo and day-old foie gras can be found deposited on most sidewalks and most shoes.
2. Cheese. Cheese is a tasty treat enjoyed at every meal. But the expression 'Who cut the cheese?' is common parlance for a reason - the odour of five aging cheeses oppressing a refigerator is easily remembered and none too pleasant.

But enough of my prejudices (for now). Let us begin at the beginning and proceed through until the end. Hopefully we will all be enlightened, a little wiser, and a little drunker (at least I will be - please pass the wine, good Skraba!)

On October 29, 2002, I left Vancouver for my first trip to the continent armed with 13 hours of Lord of the Rings on tape (thanks be to Dermott, my dear brother) and a brand new walkman. Although I had previously journeyed to London and Ireland, this was to be my first time amongst a population of European non-English speakers. I should have prepared for this by learning some rudimentary French phrases, but I had been busy for the previous month at the house of Roger and RJ battling orcs, night elfs, and undead.

'Half-grown hobbits, the hole dwellers' rarely left my lips as I slept soundly on a British Airways 747. However much like that party's descent into the mines of Moria, all was not well on arrival. The British airline company that I shall not name, for fear of legal action, had misplaced my luggage and I was forced to wear the same clothes for two days until it eventually arrived. But as I was now in Paris and living the life of a Frenchman, this had been my plan all along. And due to my missing a connecting flight in London, my erstwhile host was not present to greet me at the RER station. A simple matter you suggest - give the scoundrel a call and clear up the matter. A simple plan in spirit, but our dear host does not believe in voicemail so my plaintive cries for assistance fell on the deaf ears of an endlessly ringing phone. At this point the always helpful Glenn Karlsen of Alcatel Vancouver was able to reach the missing Mr. Skraba and arranged for a meeting. All looked good!

We had originally planned to spend the first weekend in Barcelona, but due to a change in my career plans brought on by an unfortunate layoff perpetuated by my former employer, a large French telecom company that I will not name for fear of legal action, I decided to stay in Europe for longer, and to stay in Spain for longer as well. So it was agreed upon that we would 'play things by ear' and not plan ahead further than the next meal. At least this was my plan, Ryan would actually buy groceries and cook meals, but this rarely involved me.

On walking to Ryan's apartment I noted several things of Paris:

1. There are no growing things in Paris! The French hate green living things. Any grass you see in the city has a small fence around it and you must walk on brown dirt paths. Why? Grass is meant to be enjoyed under the feet! You even see the future Dugarry's and Zidane's kicking the ball around on concrete - no wonder the French lost in the first round!

1. There are no houses in Paris. Every building is high and straight.
2. The French don't believe doors should be standardized. Deciding whether to push or pull on a handle is always a baffling ordeal.

A night of drinking fine French wine followed as I adjusted to the time zone.

The next day was spent on foot, exploring the inevitable Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Louvre, and Notre Dame.

As it was Halloween at this point, we looked for the crowds of children in devil costumes but did not see them - until it got dark - then we saw a few. At our local boulangerie a small crowd stormed the building and demanded candy. Ryan tried to ascertain what was the usual command instead of our North American 'Trick or Treat'. The answer was 'Donnez-moi des bon-bons ou je jeterai un mauvais sort.'

So on November 1st, we decided to visit the local cemeteries to observe All Saints Day. There are many dignitaries interred at Montparnasse (please see the excellent and clearly written write-up in travel log 3).

On a whim we decided to visit Amsterdam without making any prior arrangements. This would prove exciting!

Arriving in the city on the Amstel at 10PM on a Friday night (with a light rain falling) we discovered a few things:

1. Amsterdam is a popular destination for young, drug-seeking, weekend tourists
2. There is not enough hotel space in the city.

During hours of wanderings, we were unable to secure even an empty doorway to sleep in. I interpreted this as a signal to commence the enjoyment of the city's nightlife. This time was not primarily spent in the red-light district but it is worthwhile to comment on this area of the city. It is truly odd to walk on a main tourist street filled with all manner of peoples: young and old, female and male and see window after window of small rooms with neon red bars filled with non-dressed local entrepreneurs. The coffee shops were also very interesting. Amsterdam is a truly tolerant city. Other highlights of our nocturnal strolls included a visit to Anne Frank's house (or huis) where she hid from the Nazis before her capture and untimely death by tuberculosis at Belsen in April 1945. Amsterdam is as flat as a pancake and filled with canals.

Fortunately the weather was surprisingly mild and we were able to sleep in the park near the Rijksmuseum.

We decided to cut the trip short after a pleasant Saturday of coffee, further wanderings and napping.

One night in an Amsterdam park was fun and interesting - two would have been folly.

So we returned to Paris on the night of November 2nd happy to have enjoyed the experince, but none too anxious to repeat it.

The trip was just getting started.

Alright, to answer the unasked question, we just visited the coffee shops out of curiousity. We didn't smoke any drugs during our visit, legal or otherwise.

Posted by The Inaccurate Tourist at November 1, 2002 12:00 PM