My first pizza in Paris

OK so the title isn't as catchy as the others but I had to complete the Holy Trinity of "My First..." posts, this is probably the last you'll hear of them (ha).

Day 3 of my working life

My third jour of life as an intern (pronounced: errand boy) and things are going pretty well. Apart from the fact I had to wait 20 minutes for someone to let me into the office, goddamn lazy French. But something me and Otto translated from English -> French yesterday was published by a bunch of media outlets today so that's pretty cool!

Being a working man, It's good not having to worry whether there's any work in the next day (and doing it the morning it's due if you're me), but you do have to sell your soul to the rat race. Ah well, life's a trade-off.

Life (n.): The art of substituting one set of problems for another.

Déjeuner

For lunch we went to a nice pizza place, which are apparently rare in Paris, just around the corner. I order a calzone and it looks delish but after some preliminary excavations, under the disapproving gaze of the old guy next to me, I found the meat to cheese ratio was disappointingly low. I'd put a photo of it here but it was devoured (by me, in case you're wondering) before I got the chance. So here's a picture of what I had yesterday.

Handily comes to  €8.30, my daily allowance exactly

After the massive lunch things began to go downhill as I started dozing off (as lions do after a meal). The emails began to pour in and by the end of the day I was burnt out good and proper.

But as soon as I put on some Coldplay on the way to the metro station, a nice calm settled over me, blocking out the bustle of the city.

...Promptly and resoundingly shattered by the Paris metro.

Let me give you a visual of what riding the Paris metro is like: think suit-wearing sardines in a rectanguloid can, accompanied occasionally by the odd sardine tramp. Doesn't help that the aforementioned sardines are starting to slowly melt in the heat.

I've also found out that the only French word you really need in Paris is "pardon". 

Bumped into someone? "Pardon"

Want to get through a crowd? "Pardon"

Need to have an in-depth discussion on the Higgs Boson? "Pardon" (+ hasty exit)

Navigating the way through your fellow travellers to the train door is almost as compliqué as the metro system itself

Now for dinner, a turkey sandwich. Yes I still can't cook.

Peace from Paris.