This post will be all about France. Brits, avert your eyes!
I was warned before coming to France that, unless I immediately identified myself as an Australian, Parisians would assume I’m American, and be incredibly rude and impatient with me. I’ve found it’s not quite the case; in spite of asserting my heritage down under, they are indeed a bunch of rude buggers nonetheless, although not so intolerably rude as to blemish their two distinct saving graces; their city is astonishingly beautiful, and their food is mouthwatering.
Photo by Mr Mike Simons
The hotel I’m staying at, Rue de Rocroy, has the most amazing breakfast buffet I’ve ever encountered. It’s also the only breakfast buffet I’ve ever encountered, but I’m still in love with it. The food is quite ordinary; cereal, yoghurt, pastries, bread, fruit and so forth. It’s the presentation and quality of the food that impresses me. Fresh, high quality and abundant. If it weren’t for the limited opening hours, I’d be doing three meals a day down there and saving myself a fortune. Breakfast is included in the hotel’s lodging fee of an incredible 35 euros per night. Considering the standard of the room we’re staying in, it’s easily 5-10 times lower than I expected.
Sadly, the savings end there; the rest of the city is stupidly overpriced. So far, no meal has been less than 35 euros, and we’re not exactly going all out on the courses. Circling back to Parisian rudeness, I’ve been tempted on several occasions to actually leave without paying. Not because the food was bad (on the contrary, as I said, it’s amazing), but because waiters take forever and a day to show up with menus, food, the bill… if they don’t want my money, surely I should oblige :)
I speak next to no French, but for the few words I do know, I’m loving every second of using them. Bonjour, pardon moi, merci, bon, non je parle le Francais, and my personal favourite – je suis Australie! Aaaaah Paris. Mon ami. Ok not really, but it’s a blast. The language barrier is barely a problem; lots of people do speak English here (especially the gen-Ys), and the rest manage with gestures.
We all have our moments. This was mine.
Yesterday, Mike and I put in a solid day’s good old fashioned sight seeing. We hiked down to the river, picked up some souvenirs on the way, then made our way to the Eiffel Tower. One thing I’d forgotten about the Tower is that the first floor has an ice skating rink. Hell would freeze over before I’d miss something like that, and miss it I most certainly did not. The ice was very different to the perfectly manicured indoor ice rinks I’m used to in Australia, and the skates were figure skates, rather than my preferred hockey skates (the difference being the spikes on the toes), so I was a bit unco but still had myself a ripper of a time. I think that 30 odd minutes was the first time I’ve truly felt like I was enjoying myself on this little adventure.
Eiffel Tower Ice Skating
I also picked up a nifty wee pair of sunglasses to replace the ones I’d lost the day before. It was easily the most expensive pair of sunglasses I’ve ever bought, but I had to do it – now they will always be the sunglasses I bought in Paris. Or at least they will be until I lose them. I give them at least another day or two. They’re also the best looking pair I’ve ever had. The girls in Prague aren’t gonna know what’s hit them. I think even the cute French girl who sold them to me went a bit weak at the knees when I put them on. Ladies, form an orderly queue.
Today should be an easy stroll through planning the rest of the trip, sipping tea and admiring more enormous sculptures and architecture. I’m hoping to squeeze in a trip to the Louvre, but I won’t be too upset if we just cruise on down to the airport and make for Prague. I’ve had my fill of Paris and despite getting sick and all the shitty weather, I’m glad I came. Vive la Francais and an eclair for both of us.
