Observations on life in France.
-Although it *is* in a fairly apocalyptic area, the ambiance of the "Stalingrad" Metro station does not exactly live up to its name.
-My clichéd plan to have a drink on the Champs Elysée got ammended to "generic ice cream thing at McDonald's", because apparently they're the only ones not charging like 6 Euro for something cold.
-Classical music in this huge Parthenon-looking edifice, but it is all Jesus-ed up within. For free. Of course this means tourists tramping around in squeaky shoes, clacking away with their cameras, flashes and that idiot superfluous shutter sound still on.
-A trio of French paras with loaded FAMAS patrol the square in front of the Louvre.
-The French let their dogs crap on the street and then just walk away. They also consider it appropriate to sit and chat on their cell phone on SOME GUY'S GRAVE. But, if you don't mind drinking plonk, alcohol is cheaper than fruit juice here, so there's that.
-Maybe when in the city I should navigate by map, not compass bearing, hmmm? Just "heading north" on foot from Carentan, looking for the swampy area the 101st Airborne struggled so hard to traverse, and I find it, alright...after skirting an industrial park and jumping some fences (for HISTORY), I end up wading through a tangled morass filled with stinging nettles. Almost roll my ankle jumping from one dry-ish spot to the next. Yet another "not in your tourist guidebook" experience for Jamor!
-Comic sight of the day: French woman bravely trying to push a stroller through the lunar landscape of Pointe du Hoc, filled with 20 foot deep craters from air bombing and the 14 inch guns of the USS Texas. It is preposterous, but her Gallic pride forbids any display of awkwardness or frustration.
-The ammount of irreplaceable WW2 hardware...tanks, guns, planes...just sitting there exposed to the elements, rusting away...it depresses me. Come on people, get that shit in a barn or something! It's not like we're going to miraculously happen upon a secret cache of Panzerkampfwagen V's somewhere.
-Bastard seagulls squawked and tried to crap on me on the cliffs west of Arromanches, where they built the great artificial Mulberry harbour. Piss off you, I don't want your diseased eggs. Verdammt Jabos.
-Some drunks in Arromanches want 190 Euro for an old, rusty Gew 98 barrel. In St. Mere-Eglise, it was even better: 3750 for a supposedly authentic SS pea dot camo tunic. Uh, yeah.
-Museum's use of the term "liberated" to refer to GERMAN towns captured by the Allies is...interesting.
-France: The Simpsons = Les Simpson. Rainier Wolfcastle = Renier Oolfquessal.
-Worrying restaurant name: "Yaki Sushi"...Yaki meaning, of course, "fried"...
I am doing OK...the heat is punishing and not being able to really communicate is wearing me down. Some days I walk my own Via Dolorosa, but it is something I have to do. When I just want to lay down and die, mad with fatigue, I feel this invisible, irresistable force propelling me onward, ever onward...
-My clichéd plan to have a drink on the Champs Elysée got ammended to "generic ice cream thing at McDonald's", because apparently they're the only ones not charging like 6 Euro for something cold.
-Classical music in this huge Parthenon-looking edifice, but it is all Jesus-ed up within. For free. Of course this means tourists tramping around in squeaky shoes, clacking away with their cameras, flashes and that idiot superfluous shutter sound still on.
-A trio of French paras with loaded FAMAS patrol the square in front of the Louvre.
-The French let their dogs crap on the street and then just walk away. They also consider it appropriate to sit and chat on their cell phone on SOME GUY'S GRAVE. But, if you don't mind drinking plonk, alcohol is cheaper than fruit juice here, so there's that.
-Maybe when in the city I should navigate by map, not compass bearing, hmmm? Just "heading north" on foot from Carentan, looking for the swampy area the 101st Airborne struggled so hard to traverse, and I find it, alright...after skirting an industrial park and jumping some fences (for HISTORY), I end up wading through a tangled morass filled with stinging nettles. Almost roll my ankle jumping from one dry-ish spot to the next. Yet another "not in your tourist guidebook" experience for Jamor!
-Comic sight of the day: French woman bravely trying to push a stroller through the lunar landscape of Pointe du Hoc, filled with 20 foot deep craters from air bombing and the 14 inch guns of the USS Texas. It is preposterous, but her Gallic pride forbids any display of awkwardness or frustration.
-The ammount of irreplaceable WW2 hardware...tanks, guns, planes...just sitting there exposed to the elements, rusting away...it depresses me. Come on people, get that shit in a barn or something! It's not like we're going to miraculously happen upon a secret cache of Panzerkampfwagen V's somewhere.
-Bastard seagulls squawked and tried to crap on me on the cliffs west of Arromanches, where they built the great artificial Mulberry harbour. Piss off you, I don't want your diseased eggs. Verdammt Jabos.
-Some drunks in Arromanches want 190 Euro for an old, rusty Gew 98 barrel. In St. Mere-Eglise, it was even better: 3750 for a supposedly authentic SS pea dot camo tunic. Uh, yeah.
-Museum's use of the term "liberated" to refer to GERMAN towns captured by the Allies is...interesting.
-France: The Simpsons = Les Simpson. Rainier Wolfcastle = Renier Oolfquessal.
-Worrying restaurant name: "Yaki Sushi"...Yaki meaning, of course, "fried"...
I am doing OK...the heat is punishing and not being able to really communicate is wearing me down. Some days I walk my own Via Dolorosa, but it is something I have to do. When I just want to lay down and die, mad with fatigue, I feel this invisible, irresistable force propelling me onward, ever onward...