One weekend in Paris

Trip Start Mar 19, 2007
1
4
45
Trip End Apr 21, 2008


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Where I stayed
Ibis Creteil

Flag of France  ,
Sunday, April 1, 2007

No, I stayed in the Ibis, not in the Hilton.  Don't know where that Hilton's been...

Here's the latest on Pari.  Kel's additions in italics.  God bless her cotton little spell checking socks...  It's a long one, but it was a 'long' trip.

Paris: Arriving midnight Friday night, leaving 4 PM Sunday.  40 hours, 400 years of history.  On your marks, set, GO!

We arrived, drooling in anticipation in a taxi trying to get some poor frenchy with barely a grasp of english to point out all the highights to us while not crashing his cab in the maddest traffic I've seen to date.  We left exhausted, packed like so many cattle into a truck.

So far, Paris is the most amazing place that I've been to.  Ok, ok, Iknow I said that about Bath and I know I'll be saying that about Dublin after this coming weekend, but humour me.

Paris in 10 words:
Bl**dy lovely mate, but wasted on the French.  Rude plicks!

Maybe we could swap the Tasmanians for the French?

Short version of the trip:
40 hours.  10ish hours of sleep.  50,000,000 hours walking everywhere seeing most of the sights.  3 hours snoozing under the eiffel occasionally stirring to quaff some more french red wine and nibble on French chocolate (two things they make rather well.  Not going to surpass their reputation as cheese eating surrender monkeys though).  We saw:  The Eiffel, the Hotel de Invalides (Invalids Hospital), lots of gold leaf cladding, a couple of big horse willys, lots of statues of this Napoleon fellow, the Louve, the big surrender cheese stick out the front of the Louve (the oblisque), the arc de triumph (finished after Napoleon had surrendered - he was eating cheese at the time, I believe), dog poo, pont de alexandre, the pantheon (not the clouds above), the Notre Dame, the Latin Quarter, St Germain, many small willys on statues, the army barracks, the legion of honor, my house (aka the "big" palace), Kel's house (the "small" palace), the bottom of a few bottles of wine, and they're just the places I can remember and (mis)spell. Rudest moment: asking a security guard which way it was to the Eiffel and him saying he didn't know in broken French-english.  We were a block away.  You're French.  How can you not know.  Once we found it, I was very tempted to go tell him where it was.  Ok, so I'm in their country and I should be nice to them and try speak their language and all, BAH!  I'm not racist, I just hate the French.

Long version.  Dot points for your pleasure:
- I fart in your general direction.
- Dog poo.  Everywhere.  Especially under your boots.  The native inhabitant of Paris is not rude frenchman, as you'd expect, but dog poo.  If you stay still for long enough you can see the stuff creeping up on you.
- Je me pel Justin.
- Everything is really old and cool, and possibly gilded in gold, and written on in French or latin.  I don't konw, it's all Japanese to me.  Bath is a pre school compared to this place.
- Driving madly on the wrong side of the road.  I handed in my j-walking license for the weekend.
- Un bier perfavor
- Everything is really well laid out with lots of open spaces.  Palaces everywhere.  A really lovely city.  I like the zen of the place.  They recon it's so well designed because every time they fiished building it someone would say viva le france and burn it down while chopping a few nobles heads off, surrendering, fighting the germans, eating cheese and being rude to tourists. (i did my best to try speak as much french as I could, honest!)
- Monalisa.  She's not all that.
- the "trains" are really trucks.  Mounted on truck tyres, bouncing around like trucks with a hint of a train track so that the driver doesn't need to steer madly into oncoming traffic.
- Palevu Englais perfavor?
- They turn the lights of the Eiffel off at 1:30 am. Make sure you get your photos in before then.
- The gave the invalids hospital a bunch of captured cannons.  The invalids then mounted these pointing at Kels and my houses (just down the road).  They liked to let volleys off every now and then in celebration when the queen/king/emperor came to town.  Sure.  Here's your sign.
- "BURN ER!!!!"
- The que to climb the Eiffel is REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYY long.  Much better to climb the other really tall but not so famous building at the other end of the park (Montparnese) with the aid of an elevator and 9 euros and take photos from there, then go sit under the Eiffel and drink chocolate while eating wine *hic*
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Comments

el_camitogrande
el_camitogrande on

No wonder they hate you
1. It's Je m'apelle Justin, but you say 'Justin' like 'You steen' and they think you're a belgian chick tennis player & get mad when you dont put out.

2. un bier sil vous plait, or un bier pour favor. And as usual, if someone gives you a drink you have to put out. Especially in France where they need to oblige people to screw them due to their fantastically offensive personalities & fear of soap.

3. Parlez vous anglais. But, naturally, they will say no - and expect oral sex for their trouble. Dude - when they kept saying 'blow me, eeeengleeeesh peeeeg' they meant it.

So. Since you cant speak their language and made no mention of any 'frenching' of any kind, I can only assume they considered you the height of uncultured barbarism and, as such, do tippeth my hat in thy direction. Slainte!!!

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