My first trip to a museum

Another (mis)adventure at the supermarché

It's always the person in front of you in a queue isn't it? I want to track down whoever Sod is and assassinate him for his stupid law.

Yesterday I was in the queue at my local FranPrix (the site of my other escapades, including the infamous "condoms in the bread" one). Just bought some ingredients for my dinner sandwiches and want to check out, when this drunk guy cuts in front and whacks a six-pack onto the counter. He then proceeds to fiddle with change and tries to pay for it with a 50 cent coin and a folded up bit of paper. 

Can you believe the cashier had the cheek to refuse his honest payment? The value of folded up bits of paper has really plummeted with the recent economic climate. A 5 minute argument ensued, all with suit-clad me standing there clutching a loaf of bread and some cheese. Surreal to say the least.

Obligatory gripe about the metro

I've found another sickening thing about the metro. It's full of couples. Happy, happy couples. Sickening, right?

Right on, Ted

On the plus side, it looks like French girls have fairly low standards, which can only be a good thing.

The Musée d'Orsay

Me and some friends met up on Saturday and we decided to hit the Musée d'Orsay. We got here pretty late so couldn't see much but managed to cover the main artists, Monet and Van Gogh etc.

My favourite bit of art? Probably this bench:

Let it never be said that I am an art heathen.

Peace from Paris.

My first sortie out of Paris

Vienna is awesome.

So last weekend was my cousin's engagement. Chance has it that her family decided to settle in the cultural capital of Europe, very considerate of them. Looked like my first intra-Europe was on the cards.

RER < Metro

This involved me dashing off from work insanely early (translation for normal people: half 4) and taking the RER out to Charles De Gaulle all the way in Zone 5, which is incidentally not covered by my metro pass. Like the wild child I am, I got on the train anyway. Take that The Man, I stuck it to you good. After all, life is for living.

Metro - please accept my sincerest apologies for anything bad I may have ever said about you. The RER is Paris' overground train service that extends far out of the metro's reach. It's the metro's bigger, uglier older brother (much like mine). Compared to it, the metro is a positively spiritual experience (if you can get over the all-pervading smell of urine).

The impressive CDG Aeroport

I started off my trip at Charles De Gaulle Terminal 1, where (after bearing the crushing disappointment of almost being upgraded to business), I was really impressed.

Imagine serenely gliding along this walkalator with classical music playing

Nothing of note to mention on the flights apart from an American family who were seated all around the plane because they hadn't booked tickets. One of their 7(ish) old daughters happened to be sitting next to me looking very unhappy. I offered to switch seats so she could be closer to her parents, at which point the Dad asked me to switch with him so he could sit next to her.

My heart pretty much melted when she grabbed onto me and insisted that "no, he can stayy!". 

You can call me Monsieur Charming.

The Engagement Party

So after much stressing about and a looong make-up session, the ladies emerged from their lair all looking lovely and we headed off to the hotel.

I was told at pretty short notice that I was gonna be Master of Ceremonies and had a couple of speeches to make, Exactly the way I like it - spontaneity is the spice of life. It's exhilarating having 160ish people hooked on your every mot and having no idée what you're saying. One thing I should have done was to introduce myself. The guests were probably wondering who the snappily-dressed, eloquent young man en stage was.

This half of the audience was paying attention at least - they were my favourite half

The party itself was IMMENSE. The DJ began the fiesta with some bhangra and I kickstarted the dancing throwing some crazy shapes. Helped that every single one of the guests was so cool. A big shout-out to all the awesome people I met =D (my first and probably last emoticon on here - that's how much I loved you guys).

I had so much fun that I'm feeling sad to be back in Paris. I know, crazy right!?

So, all in all, taking a day off and breaking 18 months of continuous work by the interns before me was, oh, about 2505% worth it?

Peace from Paris.

My first run-in with the law

So I went for my first haircut in France last week - I thought the French were meant to be good with hair!? My hair currently looks like an angry, fluffy porcupine. I spend ages picking out a haircut I like, give it to the guy and what does he do but chuck it to one side. Hairdressers here seem to have their own "beautiful vision" of they want to do your hair. 

Taxi drivers and barbers are among the best therapists our society has to offer and I'm pretty sure the barber's chair and driver's back-seat have solved a lot of people's problems. However, my several attempts to strike up a conversation were met by a stony French wall of silence.  French people continue to welcome me with open arms.

A dead week at work

Boredom + middle-aged French women = you're gonna have a bad time.

August is a dead month in Paris, it might as well not exist. My colleagues, all middle-aged women tackle the boredom by singing/dancing to English chart songs. On Wednesday we had Call Me Maybe followed by Moves like 'Jigga' by 'Maroon Cinq'. Then they got so bored they started calling each other on the internal phones - hilarious. All the while I'm sitting there pretending to look busy willing the clock to tick faster.

Lunch that day was a blessing: 

Looks more like a post-lash meal than a Parisian lunch

The Dark Knight tries to sell me something

Also, went to see Dark Knight Rises twice last week - wow. After the Savoy's 50" screens and tinny sound system, Christian Bale's gravelly tones and Bane's barely comprehensible mumbling blew me away.

The waiting area at the cinema - nice

On the way back, one of the metro gates at the station was open so to save all of 0.5 seconds I go through. Some guy comes up to me, says something incomprehensible and flashes something fluorescent orange (not what you're thinking). 

Thinking he's trying to sell me something I give him a quick "non, merci" and try to get past. He shoves the orange thing at me again and it turns out he's a RATP officer; the metro gate was open on purpose to tempt innocent souls like me into waltzing through.

Coincidentally, my caucasian friend did the exact same thing but didn't get stopped by the dodgy-looking Arab guy. Racism (it's only racist when it's against me). Either way, that's got to be entrapment.

The metro redeems itself

I usually don't have anything nice to say about the metro but something that happened last week restored my faith in humanity just a tiny bit. It was a fairly busy time for the metro and there weren't any seats free. Before I could even offer mine, two typical Parisian rudeboys (complete with sagging trousers) gave up their seats for an elderly couple who had just got on the train. Goes to show - don't judge a book by its cover, but by its actions. (Well, books can't physically do much but you get what I mean).

I'm a big ol' softy really.

Peace from Paris.