Robert Louis Stevensons dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.... subtitled Paris.

Ok. It's true, I am a smidge behind on this blog. But it's not my fault. Blame Paris (not the heiress). I just can't seem to sum it up, can't find the right words to express my feelings for this city. Well I can find the right words, but they don't go together well. It's an awful city punctuated by spots of inspiration half the time and the other half it's an amazing place with a light rain of pretension and arrogance. I have tried to explain this duality, the Jekyll and Hyde that I found Paris, to be but it comes across all wrong, like asking Britney Spears to baby sit. You're happy about it, but there's always a nagging feeling that somethings not quite right.

So blame Paris, I do. It's meant that every time I have tried to write this blog (for you, my people) I have found it unpalatable. I tried hard to write a nice blog giving the thumbs up but when I did that all I really wanted to do was be mean and cruel. I tried to write a blog all mean and cruel, just pour the cynicism over Paris like some gateaux over an already sweet cake but just like the cake, Paris is delicious in tiny servings. I can't write a day by day account of what we did due to my June 2002 diatribe/rant/slander against people who keep day by day diaries. I tried to write a cohesive report on our time in Paris using nothing but quotes from Gerard Depardieu but since I have refused to watch any of his films since Green Card in the 1990's it was went untouched after the opening line. Where does that leave me? Using quotes from films by Marcel Marceau? Writing the blog in purely existential form? I must admit I don't know enough about satre to try it, but I did think about it. What stereo types are left? Not many that wont have me in the courts....



So I have come up with what I feel is a Parisian way to solve the problem. Some people will call it lazy and an abomination of the written word. Derivative and unimaginative . Some will hail hail it as a triumph of modernism and maybe even suggest I should be paid per word you read. Adventurous and inventive. In a very Parisian way I hope you hate it, in the vein hope you will stop coming but with the resigned knowledge that people love it and will continue to flock there (here) anyway. Thus it begins...

P is for Pride and Petulance (it could have Parisian but I had already pre-empted the use of that word). There is an enormous sense of Pride in the way the locals treat their city. They guard what they think is special and try to keep the tourists away. Refusal to speak anything but French when you know as well as they do that they speak 6 languages, it makes me laugh when they fail. Melissah bought a phone card this is how the conversation went ...

Melissah "Parlez-vous Anglais?" (do you speak English, in her best French accent)

Attendant "NO"

Melissah "Ahhhh, ummmm, Un Telefone card? Australie"

Attendant hands her the card and says "7.50 thank you.."... in an almost australian accent

LIAR... Their civic pride extends beyond just keeping the tourists away. The police hunt down anyone on the side of the street selling illegal wares (think hand bags, roses, glowing Eiffel Towers, paintings of Eiffel Towers.) Incidentally Melissah bought a picture of the Eiffel tower 8 years ago and you can still get the same print. Why do the police hunt these people down? Not because they are selling illegal merchandise, nor because they don't have the required paperwork allowing them to sell things on the street. They do it because they cause tourists to continue to gather on the streets. Well that's what I believe anyway and it's a good theory. Yet all these senses of civic pride, statements like (put on a French accent for this) "The pyramids at the Louvre are ugly and awful but they are in Paris so that makes them more beautiful than anywhere else in the world" (Anon) could also be seen as the behaviour of a petulant school boy. When walking the streets of Paris it often seems like you have either been last picked in a sports game (this never happened to me but I understand that there is the feeling of being a leper that goes with it) or someone else has taken the ball and gone home. Just depends which side of the bed you get up on is how you see Paris.

A is for Art. It's also for Acquired. Why Acquired? Well it's the polite way for a museum to say "we nicked it from another country a few hundred years ago (thank you Napoleon)" I am assuming it's legal speak so they don't have to give stuff back. Listening to the Audio guide (that's another A) in the Louvre and they just say "this was acquired on X date and has been here ever since". I want the truth. I want to hear that Napoleon pinched it for his bedroom but it wouldn't fit on the wall, so they tucked it away in a pantry for 30 years then remembered it was there and hung it up. This exact story didn't happen but wouldn't life be better if it did. I think museums around the world (mainly Europe and Egypt) should set up wings of museums with display cases and pedestals and a small inscription saying "this is where we would display the such and such by what's his name but unfortunately it was Acquired by King Louis XVII who took it when our King went out of the room to make a cup of tea. It is now shown in the Louvre in their Acquired Art Wing. Have a pleasant time walking through our Hall of Absenteeism". I am probably showing my ignorance of century old agreements between curators and museums and other such things but really if they just told the complete stories I'd be satisfied! Art, that was the other thing I decided to go with for the letter A. I just don't like a lot of art. I am interested in art, desperate to learn about it, trying to find out what I am missing with some of this stuff but often I am left high and dry while those around me carry on their merry way! Take the Mona Lisa... I stood in front of it, I stood to the side of it, I turned my back on it and looked over my shoulder at it and I stood on the other side of the wall to it. It did nothing for me. I was more interested in the throngs of people and I mean throngs of people desperate for their shot. Holding their camera up in the crowd and just hoping they hit the button at the right time. I watched this mob to and fro and wondered if half of them knew why they were breathing the hair of the person in front of them or whether they were just ticking a box. As I heard one of the tourists say "Lets just take a photo of this thing so we can get out of here!". So I ask, is the reason that the Mona Lisa is so famous because she is by DaVinci and there is some fantastic art terms associated with it that are too complex for me? Or is it because the art world needed a flagship piece (it's the Nike Swish or the golden arches of the Louvre) and this is a nice non religious simple piece with a big name behind it? A reason for the "normal" people to go in to the Louvre to begin with, get them off the streets of Paris shuffle them into one room and ship them out again several Euro shorter after buying all the merchandise with the Mona Lisa on it. Is the Mona Lisa Art or Advertising?

R is for Romance... I say this without my tongue placed in my cheek. It is a romantic place. You walk around the city and you can't help but be taken by the wave of romanticism that flows through the streets of Paris. Everything is tinged pink if you will. Rouge (another R because I can) even. There is no avoiding it. Out for a meal, the first meal you have paid for in a while and you drop your fork because you were surprised it wasn't plastic. You bend down to pick it up and when your head reappears above the table the restaurant has got 3 violinists, a cellist and a stylishly dressed accordion player all standing at your table playing a soulful tune. All 5 of them, the maitre de, your waiter, the chef all looking in your direction with eyebrows raised waiting for the romance to explode out of you after all they have set the scene it's now up to you. You walk to the Eiffel Tower at night (where else do you go? it dominates the skyline) you get there and it's all lit up glowing orange. At the base people are walking around with long stemmed red roses, violinists are playing, the river is lit. Once again the city of Paris has set the scene, it's over to you. How many people have got down on bended knee and proposed just because of the spirit Paris invokes? Further to that how many people have said no because they see that other half of Paris, the Reality. It's simple things, little things but they add up after a while. You're out on your romantic walk before dinner, you walk towards the Louvre and take a turn one street too early and you've taken your young love into brothel town. Now when a lady is all smitten with romance, nothing takes it away quicker than a hooker asking her man if he fancies "a piece of ass" in front of her. You have to work hard just to get back on a level playing field. You go out to eat. No complaints about the meals after all we are in Paris and even a shit chef is still pretty good, we have already touched on the non existent service but you accept it in the face of a good meal. So you're doing pretty well. Then comes the bill. It's not the price of the food, nor the waiter adding on a tip that shock you. It's the other charges. A cover charge for a shitty accordion player in an ill fitting tux. They provide the scene but god forbid it be out of some civic pride to maintain the image of a romantic city, they have taken advantage of their reputation and are squeezing every last tourist dollar out of it. So you bite your tongue, and leave. Whisking your lady away towards that phallic symbol Paris revolves around the tower. Standing underneath you get given a rose, thank you. Unfortunately these roses aren't gifts but a way to once again lever some money out of a tourist by trading on Paris reputation. What do you do? Give it back you look like a prick not wanting to give your lady a rose? Keep it and you've been screwed out 5 bucks for a shitty rose. I gave it back. So you stand there and soak up the scene arms around each other, you're recovering getting that sense back. Then behind you you hear "Excuse me. Do you speak English". This is the calling card of what I am calling the Pyramid begging scheme. We have encountered it in Germany, Belgium and Paris. Generally it's a couple of ladies with kids, they come up to you and ask do you speak English? If you say yes they show you a note explaining that they are homeless from Bosnia and need money and hold out their hand. I felt sorry the first time, even the second. Then in Paris I couldn't believe my eyes. Thousands of tourists under the Eiffel tower a mini van pulls up on the road behind and 10 women hop out laughing. In each of their hands is the "note" they show and they split up in the crowd. Walking through the crowd in the next ten minutes they were asking everyone "Do you speak English?" Sympathy gone...... So where was I? That's right arms around each other, that sense of romance filling the body back up. Then you hear "Excuse Me. Do You Speak English?" You look at each other and say "Dammit I lost it. Lets Go home."

I is for Invaluable. Before I go on I want to clarify my use of the word invaluable. At some point in the past someone somewhere corrupted the use of the word invaluable from something that couldn't be valued at all, to mean something that was so valuable there wasn't a price tag for it. This means at some point things like the air you breathe, the sun shine and mud on your shoes were also considered invaluable. In the case of Paris I have decided to allow for use of both applications for the word invaluable. This is me drawing a loose bow an you will se why. What would the price tag be for the actual Eiffel Tower? How about a Notre Damn, recently repaired? What about the Louvre? Could you give me an estimate of what you would pay for the Arc De Triumph (For Sale. One Large Arch slightly worn. Looking for good home in the sunshine.)? You couldn't put a price on them. But at some point they have lost their worth and become invaluable, they have become empty vessels, worthless to anyone because they have lost their meaning. Not because of what hey represent but because of the plague of tourists that swarm all over them like locusts travelling from one farm to the next. No one comes for adventure anymore, tick box tourism is being allowed to thrive in Paris. Why is this Paris fault? Well they have the chance to say enough is enough. They could make some RULES! No more will you be able to climb the tower, or if they still allow this which I don't think the should (mainly because they should've torn the ugly thing down when they had a chance and built a crepe factory) they should fine people for complaining about standing in line to catch the lift. Toughen up cup cakes. Your in France now take the stairs, that should be the new motto of the tower. Remove the lift completely. The Arc will remain untouched in the centre of that massive roundabout except for memorial days, no more people climbing to the top of the Arc, screaming and laughing and carrying on. It's a war memorial. Maybe they should move it away from that horrible street that is Champs De Elysses as well. You must not touch the art in the Louvre, this means no leaning on statues for that "clever" photograph, touching canvases or walking over ropes. If you can't afford to buy it (which most of the people there couldn't) don't fucking touch it. Kind of like my TV. And at the Notre Damn (which they should have left all beaten and run down like in "The Hunchback Of Notre Damn") and Sacre Cure (be sure to avoid the African boys at the bottom who sell you cheap pieces of thread for exorbitant rates) you will be forcibly made to check your cameras at the door. There will be no kneeling in the centre of the room with your head bowed pretending to pray while secretly filming everything through your discreetly hidden video camera. If God doesn't exist your just a rude prick for ignoring the wishes of the church and if he does.. well enjoy having your nuts roasted buddy. Paris has the big monuments whose value has been sucked away. They have the necessary arrogance to make new RULES and stick it to the tourists. You will admire these from a far. It might go a long way to returning these monuments to the sort of stature that they had when people called them truly "invaluable".



S is for Stereotypes and Self Indulgence. While not exactly being the cheese eating surrender monkey's that the rest of the world makes them out to be there are certain stereo types that envelop the French. The harder they try to shake them the more stereotypical they get. There is the arrogance, the flat out refusal to help anyone not speaking French because that is not the French way. Well that's a piss poor excuse. You don't have to speak English, German or Italian just allow yourself to be drawn into a game of charades. Allow your "Frenchness" to be pushed aside to point me in the right direction. Then there's the beret wearing. Now I know I am not at the pinnacle of fashion (the fact I have a hole in the crotch of my shorts but refuse to get a new pair attests to that) but I have a pretty grounded what is usually referred to as "common sense". I may not use it but I have spent years honing it. So when I get dressed in the morning and I choose from my clothes what I am wearing that day I turn on the common sense. Apron with boobs, funny but not appropriate, cowboy boots, cool but I am not in a band, leather chaps, comfortable when there's no crotch but since I don't swing that way not a sensible choice. It sends the wrong message. So now to anyone who has purchased a Beret that isn't part of a uniform. NO, IT IS NEVER EVER SENSIBLE to wear them, not even at home. When the revolution comes (and they are due for another one here) first people against the wall is anyone who owns a beret. I would make them register on some kind of offender list, the public has a right to know if there's one in their neighbourhood. Just like people who those Santa hats or Reindeer Antlers at Christmas time. On a list. So it's simple, just don't do it. OK?. So there are certain rules in life that must be observed. One is "people in glass houses can't throw stones". Well I have thrown a few stones but better point out that I am aware that plenty should be sent my way. So I can't have a crack at these guys with pointing out my own self indulgence in forcing people to read through pages of bullshit just to find out what we did, only to find out I've given you donuts. Look at the pictures. See I can't help it, I may be a little French because I have a grudging respect for the arrogance and the say it like it is, I don't care who you are, but I am French way they tackle life. It's just every-time I do it I am filled with guilt and self loathing. I blame Australian Politics for this. Our entire culture is built on appeasing the tourists, playing lap dog to foreign governments, being everyone's whipping boy too afraid to make a stand. This is from the leaders of the country and it leaks down to the people. Where is arrogance, why is no one in charge of our country wearing a beret and having the confidence to say "I don't care, I know it looks bad but I am Australian". It's why they are popular in Paris. This kind of self confidence would be good for the country. It's what Paris and France has in buckets.

I can't work this place out. I love it, I hate it. The Parisians probably feel the same. Anyway in summary.... I'd sleep with Paris and respect it as a city but probably wouldn't call it when I said I would.