Où est la piscine? (Where is the pool?) Not a question I have needed to ask in the lead up to the French winter
Armed with a random selection of French I picked up from Flight of the Conchords, I descended on Paris. Baguette, haw, haw haw! Contraire to my usual travelling style, I devised a punishing sightseeing schedule that allowed me to hit all the top spots in my short three-day time span: The Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Museum D’Orsay, Montmartre, The Moulin Rouge… the list goes on. I have such sore feet, seriously, where is the Turkish Bath when I need it?
Now, you know you’re in Paris when a man starts playing a piano accordion on the metro. You also know you’re in Paris when everyone on the metro snobbily ignores him. The metro is pretty damn good, and after a day I feel now like I am a master of it. This could be ignorant over-confidence, but whatever, so French right now. I just love listening to the woman announce the station names, like the one where I am staying – Anvers – which is pronounced “Ohn-vehr”, *sigh*, the French know how to pronounce shit, aye bro?
The longer I am away, the more I appreciate home. I love to hear the Kiwi or Aussie accent when travelling. Today I heard these Aussies at my hotel talking about the Flight of the Conchords character Murray and I had to try my hardest not to shout out, “OMG I love Murray, and I saw him do stand up in Newtown!”. Not cool Bronwyn, be cool.
Because it was raining on Wednesday, I visited The Louvre and the D’Orsay. While the Louvre has all the old stuff, the D’Orsay has the newer stuff, which is more up my alley. I mean, museums are alright and stuff, but they are kind of like churches, you see a few and you get bored. I’m not sure you’re supposed to say something like that, but I have to confess, I am a bit of a lazy traveller.
Smile lady, you're the most popular woman in the whole museum!
I much prefer to get the vibe of a place (read: sit somewhere, drinking wine/coffee/a beverage of choice and people watch) than do everything that Lonely Planet suggests needs to be done. So, after about five hours battling crowds carrying those walkie-tour guide thingees, I gave up, happy that I had seen a few famous paintings like the Mona Lisa and Van Gogh’s self portrait.
So, while in France of course, it is imperative for one to try French wine. Can I just say that the French really need to get with the new world wine types end embrace the screw-cap bottle. I had to buy a four pack of little ones when I only wanted one just because they were the only ones with screw caps. Yes, I HAD to, and I would like to say, it wass jussht dilishousss.
At the entrance to the Louvre
What can I say about French people? Well, one woman told me off for attempting to take a photo in a museum (you ARE allowed, just no flash), another claimed to be helping me find my way on the subway and managed to swindle me out of some money by buying a ticket for me then telling me it cost more than it did. Then, I asked a woman for directions and she looked at me like I was an idiot because I was already on the street I was asking about. I’m still undecided. But, the local kebab shop guy and I have developed quite a friendship – now being a regular customer he greets me as “Hey New Zealand!” when I walk in, and is quite looking forward to the All Blacks vs. France rugby match this weekend. I reckon the game will be a cake walk (unlike in June), but I wouldn’t say that, be cool Bronwyn, classy. I mean, what would G.D. (Gerard Depardieu) do?
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