The Paris Diaries

You have to believe me when I tell you; I had no grand belief that my holiday was going to be fantastic. Simply putting, I am quite miserable without my wife. I had the likes to Piya telling me that all that emotion was bullshit – the moment I reached Paris, all I’d want to do was sit by a café (outside, not inside – Parisian style) and watch people. Watch people? Like I can’t watch people from my window in Mumbai!! Or watch 100x that number walk by bandstand every evening.

So, all I was looking forward to was the concert of a lifetime (for me)… the only reason I was traveling was for the concert. The other days were just being spent experiencing the history (again, not lifestyle) of the city… biding my time.

The boredom got to me so much that I went all out looking for places/ things to see. Most places were truly inspiring and awesome… some were quite over-rated really.

I’d love to come back to Paris with Renu one day… and that’s why I have purposely left out a few ‘must-dos’.

So minus all the history and cityscape… what do I like/ hate about Paris?

Let me start with the Hate (kindly note the usage of the verb). Also when I use words like everyone, no one, Parisians, French… I admit there are exceptions to the list. Paris may be a great city, but its people suck. I mean the fucking Parisians are the rudest people I've ever met. None of them speak English, and even if they did, they pretended they couldn’t understand a word you are saying. Even sign language is like a form of medieval dance they can’t decipher. Everything has to be asked again and again… I mean what the fuck. Grow up and get out of your stupid shell. Its like they enjoy watching others suffer to make them understand.

One glaring anomaly of the whole understanding English: when I was waiting in queue to get into the stadium (I waited 6 and half hours… arrived early so I could get the wrist band for the pit area), I tried to strike a conversation with a few people. None of them could speak English. But when the concert began, they sang to every chorus with all the conviction you expect out of a Springsteenian. For a passing moment, I thought to myself, ‘Do these assholes understand what he writes, or are they just crazy fans who like the image Bruce portrays?’. I love Bruce because of his writing, his work ethic (when he gets on stage, it is the best you can expect) and his view on political and social matters. Do these guys understand? I was stumped for a while. Some of them were singing along in tune but with their own similar sounding lyrics!!

Talking about rude, the French (Parisians) have a national pastime they enjoy without giving a damn to the world… smoking. Parisians pursue smoking like a fucking hobby. Like no other enthusiast of any kind pursues his passion. They light up everywhere and anywhere (barring designated areas like indoor and metros. Thank Heavens!!). They are so rude that they smoke into your face. And you can’t tell them anything because… wait… they think it’s rude to tell someone to blow away from you!! Fucking twisted. I used to get pissed every time I went out… and to humor myself, I’d make up my own jokes. Like: How did the Nazis track the French during WWII? Ans: By their trail of cigarette butts. There are 1000s of butts all over your vision at all times… for a non smoker it’s just sickening to be here. But then again, there are stupid Indian cunts who think the French are cool and sophisticated.

They smoked while we waited in line for six and a half hours (at the concert). They smoked during the concert… especially that old fart (looser biker types) and his retarded fuck-object. She was a midget with a funny shaped face and hands… kind of like those who are born when incestuous siblings make out. Bitch… for being the only bitch spoilsport of a fantastic night.

Apart from the attitude and smoking (which also is an attitude problem), I didn’t have much time or inclination of discover this weird lot. A small reason for coming to Paris was to see what Fred left behind. There is not a single aspect about the city that is in Fred… which is why he is such a good guy. Maybe its his upbringing… maybe it’s the choices he has made.

And what kind of place has daylight till about 11pm? No wonder they fought so many wars… too many hours of daylight to strategize or go fornicate.

Now for what I like about France: They have taken pains to look after their monuments. The RATP system is fantastic. Within a day of looking at the map and hopping on and off trains (across lines… etc), it becomes such a user friendly system. The Exits (Sortie) are marked very well too… Exit here for this place and there for that place. The supermarkets are good. The shopping is great. The choice one has for music and movies (home video) rocks. Also, you get to buy adult-content magazines at the Metros.

The local TV station is both good and bad. Bad because it’s totally French (barring BBC World) and good because one gets to see frontal nudity in late night films (sounds stupid as there is still daylight at 11pm).

There are not many good looking people here. Wearing good clothes is not a virtue as people have no choice but to buy good cuts. The readymade cuts are really good. And unlike the Americans, the French are not as obese.

It costs 10Euros to watch a film at a below average quality cinema… that’s fucking expensive.

All in all, would I want to live in this city and raise a family here? No.