Paris
Got into Paris about 7:30am on Sunday morning without a plan. I really didn't have a clue of what I was going to do, where I was going to stay, or how to do fucking anything. I just wanted to be in Paris, and that apparently was good enough for me. I managed to get out of the airport relatively easily, and I figured I would go to the next big train station, Gare du Nord, to figure out what my next course of action would be. There were no internet cafes nearby, there were a less English speakers than I was expecting, and I was pretty much just paralyzed, because I had no idea what to do. After bumming around awhile with my huge chafing backpack, I managed to get to another train station, and I just sat for a while and read my tourism book.
It looked like hotels were decently priced near the Bastille area and I took a train over there, got a hotel room, and then just walked all over the neighborhood for several hours. The hotel costs more than I wanted to spend, but I've decided to fuck my whole "I'm going to stay at hostels". Fuck that noise.
There is countless street after street lined with high end boutiques and restaurants where I'm staying. I walked a lot farther that first day than I was intending despite the fact that it was cold and raining. I did not have a jacket nor did I have an umbrella. I didn't need that shit in Iraq. I kept spotting beautiful buildings way off in the distance, and I would walk up to them and admire then, but then of course there'd be another new building within eyesight, and it went on and on like that. I bought a military chic jacket on the way back, because it was really cold, and I don't have any cold weather gear. It was decently priced at 35 euros, but it unfortunately had German flag patches on the shoulder. I was really self-conscious about it on the long walk home. Here I am in Paris, with my German military jacket and my shaved head. I'm sure it's not even a big deal, but I still felt awkward.
I found a Chinese restaurant a block away from my hotel, so I dropped in before I got back to get some take-out. For some reason, a hasidic Jew runs the place, and he took my order. That's when my self-consciousness went through the roof. I thought, "Great. I'm going to piss off this Jewish guy, because he thinks I'm a Nazi." As it turns out, the Chinese food was about the wost that I've ever had. They didn't do anything malicious to it. It was just terrible. But I guess that's to be expected from a Parisian Chinese restaurant run by a hasidic Jew with a kitchen full of Pakastanis.
That was yesterday.
It looked like hotels were decently priced near the Bastille area and I took a train over there, got a hotel room, and then just walked all over the neighborhood for several hours. The hotel costs more than I wanted to spend, but I've decided to fuck my whole "I'm going to stay at hostels". Fuck that noise.
There is countless street after street lined with high end boutiques and restaurants where I'm staying. I walked a lot farther that first day than I was intending despite the fact that it was cold and raining. I did not have a jacket nor did I have an umbrella. I didn't need that shit in Iraq. I kept spotting beautiful buildings way off in the distance, and I would walk up to them and admire then, but then of course there'd be another new building within eyesight, and it went on and on like that. I bought a military chic jacket on the way back, because it was really cold, and I don't have any cold weather gear. It was decently priced at 35 euros, but it unfortunately had German flag patches on the shoulder. I was really self-conscious about it on the long walk home. Here I am in Paris, with my German military jacket and my shaved head. I'm sure it's not even a big deal, but I still felt awkward.
I found a Chinese restaurant a block away from my hotel, so I dropped in before I got back to get some take-out. For some reason, a hasidic Jew runs the place, and he took my order. That's when my self-consciousness went through the roof. I thought, "Great. I'm going to piss off this Jewish guy, because he thinks I'm a Nazi." As it turns out, the Chinese food was about the wost that I've ever had. They didn't do anything malicious to it. It was just terrible. But I guess that's to be expected from a Parisian Chinese restaurant run by a hasidic Jew with a kitchen full of Pakastanis.
That was yesterday.