paris

too much stuff in paris, but heres some...

In Paris Krystin and I stayed at a hotel near one of the main train stations. The Hotel advertised much more than it offered, and Krystin was quite peeved, but I didn’t mind too much.
Paris is a massive city, and me and Krystin were fairly sick of each other so we spent much of our time apart.
We did go to the Eiffel tower and several other tourist attractions together (she went up the Eiffel) I watched the tourists and soldiers who were guarding it. There were many Asian tourist groups, but the weather was rather cold so there were not too many people out. The soldiers were in full camouflage minus the makeup, and with berets, they carried some fairly heavy seeming weaponry, assault rifles… one of the guys looked like he had some sort of rocket launcher or something.. it was odd. Later at the Louvre I saw some more soldiers. I guess in the US we are more used to seeing police than soldiers.
Krystin and I split up in the Louvre, I had already been but it is also just impossible to stick with a person in a building so big. She said she really only wanted to see the Mona Lisa, I think she took a picture even though you aren’t technically allowed to… everyone does.
Outside of the Pompidou I saw a group of Tuvon musicians, using traditional instruments and wearing traditional costumes. Tuvon musicians are known for their throat singing, and the crowd seemed impressed.
One of the main things about Paris that is noticeable is how many people of color there are. Many of the younger people especially didn’t seem to be French born, most were North African -Algerian, Tunisian and Moroccan. Of course in a huge city like Paris, you expect some diversity but the changing demographics really seemed much more apparent in Paris than any other place. At one point I got lost (I do this intentionally while traveling) and ended up walking down a street that had 3 or 4 ethnic hair care places, it was interesting to see how the advertisements were marketed towards certain non white ethnicities, (similar to the US) but in no other place in Europe had I seen so many stores like that. One man asked if I wanted to get my hair locked or braided.
Near the Pompidou is a building that seems to have been taken over by artists or activists (both) they have decorated the outside of the building with colorful banners and flags. They have also made the outside of the building look like a mask of some sort.
The neighborhood we lived in seemed to have a high Arab population, local restaurants and grocery stores catered to Arab dietary rules. One of the restaurants we frequented (they gave us good deals) was run by what appeared to be a family, Im not sure where they were from maybe Jordan or Syria… anyway, at one point I was eating dinner and noticed that the two men who usually ran the place had gone to have a meeting at a table full of men. They seemed to be discussing business and family matters (in a celebratory fashion) but the woman (the wife or sister of one of the men?) was left behind to do the dishes… she was not a cook, and did not handle money, for other customers but when she saw me and Krystin she seemed to step outside of her normal role, and give us extra food or ask if we were ok.
The French, Dutch (and Belgians –I found out later) have a strong interest and attachment to comic books and cartoons. Near the Latin quarter I stumbled upon a block that had roughly 4 comic book stores. These stores had similar items that American stores would have, but the age range of people in the stores seemed sort of odd. Its mostly older men, from 30-60. The cartoons and comic books have many different themes, politics, comedy, satire, action, mystery, sex, etc they also tend to sell action figures and what not.
In Paris the McDonalds have what are called McCafes attached (at least to their major restaurants –especially near tourist areas) these McCafes sell richer style espresso drinks and food items associated with cafes rather than the American style fast food.
The McDonalds breakfast was different too. Pancakes don’t seem to be a French thing, even though they love crepes….
Krystin and I did not go in the Moulin Rouge but we saw the trashy neon lights outside… after checking out Sacre Coeur. Wasn’t much to comment on, except that a guy got mad at me around Montmartre and threatened to hit me because I wouldn’t buy drugs from him. Later when Krystin left I spent a night at a hostel in the area. And a similar thing happened again, only with the aggressors asking me to sell them drugs (which I did not have)… I wrote a poem called Little Town on a Hill about Montmartre and the strip clubs around it and what not. (will follow)
The Montmartre area of the city is still semi bohemian, they sell art and have street performers during the day, at night it is full of small cafes and bars where people play music.
I had some Finnish roommates at the second hostel who listened to really loud rock music, including American rock, and they drank a lot. Im not sure what else I remember about them. The hostel was full of Australians and Canadians and English people, that night I talked to a man about being a podiatrist in Australia, and about areas of Vancouver where you can buy drugs legally. The Canadians were in Europe to party.

My third hostel in Paris was on the outskirts of town, in what seemed to be a more suburban style neighborhood (only still apartment buildings and nice cafes… it was cleaner and newer looking) There were several Chinese, Japanese and Indian restaurants in the area, but the people seemed to be traditional middle class white French.
In this hotel/hostel we (my girlfriend came out to visit) got to meet a couple of Americans who were strongly suited for the Obnoxious American stereotype. When we left the cleaning ladies, said they were sad, because they wished the other couple had left instead.
Lastly… Krystin ate at a French Chinese restaurant… me and Krystin like Chinese food, but I was intimidated by the fact that the food looked like it had been sitting in the window all day (and it had been)… I guess the style is to pay for the weight you want… then microwave and serve.
She said it was good.
Stories about more micro waved food later.
Oh little town on a hill,
we have over run your barricades
of shady dealers, sketchy, meager monstrosities, fantastic glow façade with closed curtains
bombarded you again with the sweetness we call freedom
Oh little town on a hill
why does thou allow our unsavory ways?
Oh little town on a hill
sacred and cherished, delightfully lighted
why are your alleys full of hash and coke dealing baddies?
Oh little town on a hill
So distinct with magnificent fury
Wrap yourself in the paint strokes
The piano notes, the mystic made fashionable so long ago
Oh little town on a hill
Have you grown old, accustomed to our banging and brashness?
Have you slept through the days, spent all of your nights ecstatic?
Oh little town on a hill
Your moat seems to fill quick with men
sneaking behind those dark velvet curtains
Oh little town on a hill
I swear it almost got me, but claiming artist I snuck by
And wonder if it’s a lie
Oh little town on a hill
Passion has been your disastrous decadence
Is it still, and is it our will?
Oh little town on a hill
Capped and domed to surmount your mount
We catch glimpses from far off distances and
Dreamt of sacrosanct asylum in your presence
Oh little town on a hill
Forgive a pleasant dreamer,
Smile serenely but don’t hold my squeamish hand
Oh little town on a hill
Your cobbled roads are rag tag riches,
Don’t pay them for the face lift
Oh little town on a hill
Pull bread from your pockets
These bondsmen have our
Precious passes
and we have spent our loot
on your fine wine and grasses
Oh little town on a hill
Is your love as strong and
Would you wrap us in it for we have been walking all day in the rain
and need your calming bisou greetings
Oh little town on a hill
Proclaim once and for all that you are no madam,
neither the whore
And let us in to fool around some more
Oh little town on a hill
In grace, your star burned bright boheme
spill life on to us and our hearts may weep with joy again