I am sitting here having breakfast beneath the Arc de Triomphe. I don’t know what better way to start an entry other than that.
I think Napoleon and his complex would be proud.
Not quite sure who is following along on this blog but I had promised before I left that I would try and keep up with it as much as possible so voilà!
Alright, I began this trip in Amsterdam to kick it off right. I came… I saw… I danced my ass off. I also kept finding myself wandering into coffee shops hoping to actually find …coffee. Apparently, that makes me a moron. At one point I even wandered into a massage parlor looking for an actual massage… Not a MASSAGE.
The woman, obviously perplexed, did not even know what to do with me, but after much hesitation she finally gave in.
The massage itself consisted of one part Swedish-massage and two parts I’mGoingToBeatTheShitOutOfYou-massage…Every time I began to relax and doze off, she would proceed to maul my back. No exaggeration on this one. I think I even saw a good-sized bruise forming on my back.
Each time the beatings began I would start to turn and she’d immediately go back to innocent Ms. swan. Hilarious.
There was a period where I was running on about three hours of sleep throughout the span of four days… That led to interesting decisions.
I walked into a mans house where he taught me how to make raviolis. I fell asleep at a café. I tried speaking German with Dutch people (they don’t like that much…as one guy put it “We have more swag than the Germans”). I even tried to take pictures of the RedLight girls (the ugly street turned me down too!).
My body finally decided that it had enough sleep-deprivation and after a night out in Belgium with new friends (and enjoying many new beers), I woke up sick. It was completely worth it though. I was talking with my partner in crime and he says, “So…We tried to break into the Palace of Justice last night…”.
Ah yes…I had forgotten to mention previously my fixation with getting into awesome-looking buildings, especially at night. If my memory serves me right, I believe that a locked window and spikes were the only two things keeping us from completing this mission. Actually, spikes may have even been dealt with. Just that window…
I had a day of vegging out in Gent and the guy that was hosting me (I am couch-surfing across Europe) was sweet enough to take care of me. He even got off work early and brought bread and cheeses, chocolate, ice cream…the whole nine yards. It was amazing and I am so thankful to be meeting all these amazing people.
Aside from getting yelled at on the train ride to Paris, the ride itself was unreal. I sat there like Queen McFancypants enjoying the view in my giant red plush seat. Every few minutes the train stewardess would come around….
Wine? Caviar? Salmon? Espresso?.?
Um. Yes please.
Once I landed in Paris I was still feeling a bit under the weather but tried my best to suck it up and wander throughout the city. There are four words I have been using to get by: Bon jour, Merci, Quoi, and Au Revoir. Other than that I am just pretending as though I am either deaf or dumb…or both. I have traveled here with the understanding that it is better to be considered an idiot than an American.
I’ve also come to realize that most things I know about France I’ve learned from the movie, City of Lost Children. True, this is probably one of the worst references one could make aside from Haute Tension, but it is all that comes to mind when I watch the tiny gypsy terrors running around. It’s amazing to see them in action. Like little midget magicians. The first day in Paris I was having dinner at a restaurant, and these kids (that I swear looked identical to the ones from that movie) came over, shoving paper in the faces of the group next to me. It was a bit chaotic for about three seconds and then they were shooed away. There was a good ten minutes before I heard,
“What the fuck! Those little shits! They stole my phone!”
Apparently, while the first three mini-magicians were distracting everyone, there was an even smaller one in back that quite easily heisted her phone.
Even as sit here I can see these kids masterminding. There was just a young girl who came up to me with a ring in her hand. She was acting as though she had just found it on the ground and was asking if it belonged to me. Now, this is a prime example of when playing dumb has worked for me. I just sat staring at her blankly until she felt so awkward she had to walk away.
Works like a charm.
HA! Twice in a row. These older gypsies suck. They just tried to pull the “Oh, I found this ring right in front of you…yeah…right in front of you…you know…the place you’ve been sitting for an hour…the place where you’ve been analyzing and studying every little nuance of the city?…That place. This was sitting right in front of you. Crazy. Yes…”
Anyways, today I am on a mission to find an entrance point to the catacombs beneath the streets of Paris. I am also on a mission to find a hiding spot for a gift. My friend is going to be in the city the week after I leave, and I am sending him on a one-stop treasure hunt in the city of Paris.
Just have to find a good spot…hmm…
I am not sure when I will be writing another post, but as I said before feel free to add me on either instagram or facebook as I am much more inclined to update those rather than this one.
And if I am just talking to myself on this blog, then I am fine with that too. But in that case, I shall be starting all entries from here on out with: