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Paris est l'Istanbul de France et/and Istanbul is the Paris of TurkeyJun 3, 2005
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Garre de Lyon, one of the main train stations.
My first view of Paris
Monument at the former home of the Bastille, where the French revolution...
| Bonjours tout le monde, Je suis finalement dans Paris !! Quand j'ai arrive, mon ami Bertrand était encore a la travaille, alors j'avais 6 heures pour marcher et faire n'importe quoi. Le seul problème était qu'il y avait une grève alors les casiers pour les valises étaient fermés. Je ne comprend pas pourquoi les casiers a besoin des personnes pour les faire fonctionner, en Zurich il's était très facile et automatique. J'ai décidé d'essayer de trouver un hôtel pour les laisser pour quelques heures. La femme qui travaillait a la premier hôtel que j'ai essayer m'a dit que normalement, ils prends seulement les valises des personnes qui séjour dans l'hôtel. Juste après ça, elle m'a demandé d'où je venait parce que mon accent français n'était pas la même que la plus part des Anglais qui fréquent l'hôtel. J'ai expliqué que ma mère est Québécoise et mon père est Turque mais j'habitais dans une ville anglophone et j'essaye de pratiquer mon Français pour l'améliorer. Elle m'a dit « J'aime beaucoup les Québécois ! Je pense que leurs accent est magnifique et tu as une accent qui a un petit peu de Québécois l'en dedans. Il n'a pas de problème, tu peux laisser tes valises ici. » Tout le monde disent que les Parisiennes sont snob et méchant aux touristes, mais si cette femme d'hôtel est une indication, c'est une stéréotype faux. In Paris at last, home of French culture, sophistication, the arts, the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, le Champs Elysées and lots and lots of tourists saying "Are those snails you're eating!?" or "What's with all of the kissing?" or even better "Why don't they just speak English here?". When I arrived on Thursday, my friend Bertrand was still at work, and would be for another six or seven hours, so I had lots of time to kill. I figured that Paris is definitely one city where I could occupy myself by simply walking around. This is France, so your trip wouldn't be complete without having it delayed or annoyed in some way by a strike. I was not disappointed, it turns out that a train employee strike also means that the storage lockers at the train station also need to be shut down, but only on the day that Kerim Genc is arriving in Paris. Why you need people to run day lockers is beyond me, they were fully automatic in Zurich, i.e. insert belongings, close door, insert money, take out key...done and done. So I decided to try and find a Hotel that would take my stuff for a couple hours. The first place I tried seemed to be a failure when the lady at the desk told me that they only take luggage from guests of the hotel, but as soon as she found out I was half French-Canadian her outlook and my luck changed for the better. She said that my accent was different than most Americans who speak French but she couldn't put her finger on it. She said that she loved French-Canadians, she thought the accent was cute...who am I to argue...and that I could keep my luggage there no problem. I always thought that Parisians were snobby and mean, but so far, that stereotype seemed pretty unjustified. After my little bout of good luck, I walked for from the Gare du Lyon, to the Cathedrale de Notre Dame to the Louvre and not exactly in a straight line. Since I was still recovering from a day of walking followed by a two hour soccer game in Saint Etienne, by legs were on fire by the time Bertrand picked me up. After I met up with Bertrand, he took me up to Montmartre, the northern part of Paris on a hill to a little wine bar to check out the scene. We passed by the Moulin Rouge and the little café from the movie Amelie where she worked as a waitress, pretty neat. Not a bad first day in Paris. Bertrand's place is like five minutes from the Champs Elysee and L'arc de Triomphe, so the next day we started there, walked to the Louvre, then over to the Opera house and back. That night my friend Christophe, who I knew from my Masters days at Penn State came over and hung out. So did Jerome and his brother. Man, all of my friends over here are dudes; I gotta work on that... |
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