Parisnormale

So I have been in Paris for two days now. Paris alone has definitely been worth the painful 20 hour flight to get here from Sydney, which was made more comfortable by sleeping pills and a stout copy of Zola's Germinal. You just don't feel like complaining about leg room or the limp frightening thing marked 'sausage' so much when Jeanlin has just been made lame by a mine disaster and still doesn't get anything to eat for dinner. Still I will say that listening to Australian men on their way to Bangkok talk about what a good country Australia, especially for those who are really prepared to accept good old 'aussie values' before they come is still an unpleasant way to spend a day, with or without leg room.

My urge to not have to deal with being ever being alone and having to sort out things for myself have been helped along by bumping into Jules, a friend from La Trobe Uni at the reception desk of the D'Artgnan where I am hanging my hat for the next couple of days. We've made a good team, and agree that stopping every three hours to stuff outselves with cheese and beer is absolutely the right way to approach Paris. Our map reading has been less than good, but it hasn't mattered much because there is a metro everywhere you look, and its a hell of a lot easier to navigate below ground where everything is colour coded than above ground. There have been some precious moments, sitting at the Basilique San Croucer at sunset in Montmarte. I think Jules and I both felt that the sudden outburst of the local Parisian cover bands rendition of Alanis Morrissette's 'Ironic' was a particularly nice touch, sitting in one of the most romantic places on earth talking stoically like a meeting of the first wives club and sipping duty free vodka in pineapple juice. Oh memories.

Apart from that the imposingly urine coloured National Library has been a standout for me, as were the Catacombes and the partyboat moored to the Seine which doubles as one of Paris's greatest indie venues.

http://www.guinguettepirate.com/locprivee/location_privee.php

And for anyone who thinks that this is all sounding like a fairly lowbrow approach to Paris, I say spot on. The only real lowlights so far have been the generalized feeling of stupidity and worthlessness that comes with not knowing the local language, particularly when there is a lumpen man starring at you on the metro possibly fondling himself and definitely singing obscence songs to you and urging on some serious eye contact. Oh well, I've had worse in Melbourne, and didn't someone say that ignorance is bliss? The nightlife has made up for it anyway, last night we went to see CLARE & THE REASONS at La Fleche D'or which is an amazing alternative club set up at an old railway station.

http://www.flechedor.fr/

this is as close a brush with romance I have had so far in this so called city of lovers:

With my six French words down and a look of shock and awe we managed to successfully order two glasses of water, which I gratefully drank as all the fluid was running out of my face due to a serious case of smokey eye and made some friends, at least of the fleeting kind. Unfortunately
they were not French at all but British, and eventually racist. Still though, as we'd put our chances of talking to anyone at this trendy club at about 0%, finding British racists to talk to do did seem like an improvement on our prior standing. I only hope that we can one up ourselves today. Over and out.