Paris, yet again...

Paris, yet again...

The train from Brussels-Zuid to Paris Nord is about an hour and a
half, and riding it in first class is just fantastic. Food prepped and
extra elbow room. On board, wi-fi is available at a hefty €6,50 per
hour.

The trip to the hostel wasn't too bad though trash noticeably littered every corner. Paris has gotten subsequently dirtier over the years, though maybe I've only seen the deliberately cleaner tourist areas these past four years.

No. Paris--the true Paris--is uninviting and far too much of a sprawled city for me. Though it just may be the biased New Yorker talking, the bright lights in this big city gives it the smoked and mirrored allure romanticized by tourism, impressionist art, and Sabrina (the Audrey Hepburn-Humphrey Bogart version).

Should I ever live in France, I would most definitely avoid the larger cities. Francophone Belgium has given me the desire to properly learn French. Once I have internet again, I'll be sure to look for French language schools somewhere the likes of Montpellier or Lyon. Bah, who knows? I always concoct these grand schemes when I'm away but life always manages to steer me in another direction.

My stay in Paris, on this round anyway, was highlighted by the 2008 Eurocup finals match between Spain and Germany. The hostel had been split between those heading to Germany and those heading to Spain. The hostel itself, St. Christopher in Paris, is a shining monument to Ikea, with Japanese-style bunk beds (the type that makes you feel like you lived in a submarine or a coffin) complete with sockets and personal lamps. The hostel bar is frequented by locals most likely looking for an amorous romp with eager (horny) travelers (aka obscenely privileged American students) and eager travelers (insert horny-17-year-olds-looking-for-Dianne-Lane-Under-the-Tuscan-Sun-tryst).

Now not EVERYONE in the traveling world is a horny 17-year-old looking to find a summer fling to check off his/her to-do list. There are some pretty awesome folks out there trying to taste a little bit of the world, like the folks I met and shared the evening with cheering on the Spanish national team. However, you certainly (and unfortunately) do come across the former a lot. It can be interesting to watch, on a very anthropological/scientific manner, but damn it, when they get pissed drunk and start spilling out the sidewalk, it certainly makes one feel... old and irrelevant. Or maybe that's just me.

At any rate, Paris has yet to put its non-touristy charm on me. There have been exciting fun moments when I've traveled about with friends or new acquaintances, but it has yet to fully grow on me. Aside from last year's old-homeless-man-versus-Shakespeare&Co-grad-student-bookstore-guy incident, coupled with that ridiculously old man who tried to put his "I am a french man, I will make love to you under the Eiffel Tower" move on me, Paris is on my shortlist of cities-that-still-need-work-to-love.

Or maybe I just keep going back before I should...