Paris - França
Four American Blondes in Paris, and I, their faithful biographer and amanuensis – what’s not to like?
When I was invited to contribute to this new multi-media webzine, the understanding was that, in general, I would profile the more unusual travel destinations. As well as provide in-depth profiles of the Anglo experience in Latin America once I get back there next week. But for the last two weeks I have enjoyed a splendid time in several European cities, popular and less so. So let’ start with the granddaddy of them all, Paris.
I am often asked, as a traveling journalist, which city is my favorite. To me, this is akin to the ancients asking “who was the greatest soldier in the Greek army?” The answer is Ajax. But that is because the question, as phrased, is a comparative one. It asks who is the greatest – among those for whom comparison is relevant. It is not relevant to Achilles. He is beyond compare. One does not sully his name by contemplating it in reference to others.
And so it is with Paris. My acquaintances must be asking, “which, among cities that may be compared, is your favorite?” Paris is Achilles, beyond compare, the ne plus ultra.
And so I found myself there at the start of my expedition, with four American blondes.
The cool one’s on the right.
If you’re reading these articles, you’ve likely as not been to Paris. To London. To Rome. To Amsterdam. Some of you may have been to far more exotic parts. But every citizen of the world must return to Paris, again and again. It was my 13th time there, and it was not unlucky in the slightest.
We hit all the biggies.
Palaces built on the toil of the oppressed.
Where you can teach a child about liberte, egalite, and fraternite.
Lunch al fresco in Saint-Germain, bien sur.
Le Pont des Artes, where a bit of eye contact with an Arab will score you fresh hashish at 10 euros per gram, where students congregate to drink young wine and strum guitars badly, and to which the Eastern European fad for lovers’ locks on bridges has recently spread (the Paris city government has sworn to remove this Slavic affront to tradition).
A Bateaux-Mouche ride, de rigueur. (N.B. Bateaux Mouche is akin to Kleenex, or Xerox, a brand name, even though it has become synonymous with the Seine boat trips – in reality, there are various vendors at various quays along the Seine, Bateaux Mouche being merely the one by the Eiffel Tower at Pont D’Alma).
Yeah, it’s tacky, but what could be a better sort of tacky???
C’mon, man, some things are worth a second look!
Concorde, naturalment.