Paris Fatigue:

by | Feb 29, 2024 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

Within a full day, you’re bloated, nauseous and craving the peace and quiet of Brittany.

Paris can be exhausting. Especially for a sixty-five year old arthritic teenager. It’s like being served with a huge, tasty, multicultural meal. Your mouth is salivating as you take in the visual delights. But everything is so rich, so extreme. The spice is very hot, the sweetness sickly and the bitterness draws your cheeks in.

Within a full day, you’re bloated, nauseous and craving the peace and quiet of Brittany. Everything happens so fast, from the metro doors closing before you can drag your sore body onto the train; to the pretty young women who hurtle around at break-neck speed on electric bikes. The latter is like watching someone dropping an egg from a great height, only to see it being caught at the bottom by a safe pair of hands. Like my visit to this crazy, extreme capital, I’ll keep my  account brief. One interesting story though. As Joe and I got on the funicular to ascend Montmartre to Scare Coeur, I observed a unique Paris moment.

The doors were about to close, when six Russian women pushed on to the car from the exit door. The obvious head honcho of this dubious rabble began to tear up an empty Heineken box distributing the perfect cardboard rectangles. She then handed out Biro pens and proceeded to give an impromptu lesson.

Apparently, they were each to write “I’m hungry, please help me,” in French on their respective rectangles. Then it finally clicked. They were about to hit the unsuspecting tourists with their hard luck tales. However, what got me the most was they laughed and joked the whole way up to the Basilica. A happier bunch of women I have yet to see. A few minutes later, one of the troupe was sitting cross-legged on the pavement holding up her message. Her performance was Oscar winning indeed.

Now a word or two from my alter ego…

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