Actually, we're more than halfway there at this point. Today marks the five-month anniversary of my stay in France, with four months to go. Just a warning for any of you who may talk to me in the coming months: Please do not make any reference to the fact that my time in France is passing quickly. I literally do not know how I will survive without my beloved pastries, the warm baguettes aux graines from my neighborhood boulangerie, or a public transit system that actually gets you places in less than 3 hours. So my strategy at this point is hardcore denial, and I would appreciate it if everyone else helped me maintain that illusion. With that said, here are some highlights of the past months:
Countries Visited: 6 (Poland, Belgium, Ireland, Germany, Italy and Vatican City)
Best Pick-up Line*: This one comes courtesy of our Italian friends. Although French guys are not above skeeziness, they lack in originality. Their come-ons are generally limited to: "Would you like to get coffee with me?" or "I'm looking to practice my English."* They could learn a lot from the table of Italian guys sitting next to me and Eunice. After trying to get our attention for the entire meal, they finally saw an opening when we were getting up to leave. The conversation went something like this:
Italian Guy (to me): So are you Irish?
Me: No...Well, Irish-American.
Italian Guy: But you're so white!
Pause
Me: Yes. Yes I am.
I'll spare you their poorly-phrased, reasonably offensive remarks about Eunice's Korean eyes. The point is, we were seduced into going home with them. Because you just can't resist those lines.
*After writing this segment, I was subjected to another come-on while walking to a friend's apartment. I won't copy it here, as it was rather vulgar. But it rhymed. Needless to say, I slept with him as well.
Least Effective Way to Get Money:
There are a lot of panhandlers in Paris. Some of them sort of earn their money by serenading tourists with "La Vie en Rose" or "I Love Paris." But a lot of them just jump onto Metro cars, recite a litany of misfortunes and unspeakable tragedies and then walk down the aisle with their hat held out.
Sometimes these speeches are so pitiable that even the flinty-hearted Parisians are moved to give a few centimes. But I heard one the other day that was earning the speaker no money. It went something like this:
"Hello ladies and gentlemen. I am German but I have lived in France for 20 years. It has become my home country. I am currently out of work and homeless. I don't even have a room or a closet to call my own. If you were in my situation, you would have killed yourselves. Yes, killed yourselves ladies and gentlemen, because we all know that French people are not very hearty..."
He continued on with statistics about poverty in France, and the observation that such statistics were shameful for a country that calls itself a developed Western nation. But he wasn't making much headway. Tip for getting money from French people: Do not call them weak. Especially if you are a German.
Weirdest Metro Poster:
In addition to panhandlers, there are also advertisements on the walls and ceilings of Metro cars. Most of these are pretty standard ads for phone services, English language lessons or real estate agencies. A few months ago, however, some strange ads started popping up in numerous trains.
It took me a while to really realize what these posters were. On one particularly long ride, I finally realized that they depicted a sad-eyed horse named Caramel standing next to a menacing cleaver. Apparently Caramel and many of her equine brethren daily fall prey to Parisian gourmands. I don't know if you are aware (I wasn't), but horse meat is still a reasonably popular food in France. I've never seen it on a menu, but there are apparently boucheries chevaline, special horse butchers, where you can buy the meat. It caught on during several revolutions, when people were desperate for food and too poor to buy anything else. It is still eaten, probably because you can buy an entire horse for the price of one Laduree macaron.
I can't be too judgmental, considering the number of hamburgers that I've ordered over the past 20 years, but I am sympathetic to Caramel. Still, I couldn't help laughing at the dramatic posters, and their insistence that I visit jenemangepasdecheval.com (idonteathorse.com).
(Do not visit said site. It's gross.)
Anniversary Present to Myself: So guess what I did to commemorate the 5-month mark? I went to THE LOUVRE for the first time this trip. That's right. I no longer have to live under a cloud of shame, no longer do I have to confess: "My name is Alanna Byrne, and I am a Louvre-phobic."I will now not be expelled from the country for my astonishing lack of culture and refinement.
To be completely honest, I went because I was obligated to for the new art history class I'm taking. But I think now that the floodgates have been opened, many more self-motivated visits lie ahead.
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