Below are the 12 most recent journal entries recorded in Ed's LiveJournal:

Monday, June 30th, 2003
9:09 am	Centre Pompidou So Sara had asked for us to set a meeting time and place today and we ended up agreeing on Place de la République which, at the time seemed reasonable but this morning I started to think to myself: "what?". The plaza is large enough where I could see us running around in circles trying to find us. Well, I thought about this AFTER I wondered if she was even goign to be there. But, I didn't want to be a jerk and not show up so I got ready and headed out about an hour early. On the way to the metro I decided just to go to Laurent's and try and catch her before she left. If she was already gone, then I wouldn't be too far behind. Now, if she wasn't there... Laurent opens the door looking quite groggy (he'd been up until 10am playing Vice City - after being out until around 6). So Sara stayed with Merlin and they were nowhere to be found. I then knew I probably wouldn't see her at the plaza but still went just in case. Let's just say I really need to learn to stop caring about what other people want so much. I show up at the plaza, grab a panini and wait around for 30 minutes after which I head out. Today I decided to check out Centre Pompidou, a museum and library located in the center of the city. Ads for current exhibitions can be seen everywhere (particularly in the metro) and I had actually never been to the place even though I'd walk by it many times before. This year, it was the exhibit of photographies by Jacques Henri Lartigue that caught my eye. From what I gather, this is usually on display at the Museum of Modern Art in New York but, hey, it's here now and so am I. The looks of the building are actually quite interesting as it reminds me of some sort of structure that can be built out of a lego set. Looking at it from the street, one gets the impression that part of each floor is exposed to the open and, the main way is an escalator that runs on the outside of the building and that is enclose in a glass tube. Inside, you find the ticket counters towards the back, a single exhibit area, and cafe to the right, and a store and the main entrance to the left. You can buy tickets for just some of the exhibits or you can get a day pass for 10€. It also used to be that you could go to the hip cafe on the top level for free but now you need to purchase a ticket for something to be allowed up there. I get the day pass and start on the single exhibit to the right. Outside of the hall, everyone's attention is on a set up for a first-person shoot-them-up video game that combines a large screen and a floor mat with 9 "foot-pads" for controlling one's character. Honestly, it seems too cumbersome to be able to move, shoot, jump, all with the restriction of just using your feet (or, maybe I missed the point) so I don't even try as 1. there's a bit of a line, 2. nobody seems to be able to even kill the "bad" guy, and 3. the last thing my feet is this sort of strees. So, on I go. "Alors, la Chine?" is the center's first exhibition of Chinese art in history (the french are celebrating the Year of China) and features comtemporary works in just about every media type: video, canvas, music, models, calligraphy, photography... you name it I was mainly attracted to the multimedia ones particularly the film, photography and music compositions but I also liked the huge model of Beijing by Lu Hao. I crossed to the other side of the building and rode the set of staircases to the top where you catch an awesome view of the city. I snapped a great shot of the hill of Montmartre and the Eiffel tower. The cafe's outside seating area is pretty crowed and I catch a glimpse of the DJ spinnning a nice chill set. I enter the Lartigue exhibition which starts with a timeline of his life and various of his photo works. You then enter a hall where, on the left side, they've put his photo albums on display across four or five rooms. On the right side, the rooms start with displays of a collection of 3-d photos that totally blows my mind - I guess I just wasn't expecting this out of someone taking pictures back in the early 1900's. I move on and spend another two hours between the historic collection (level 5) and contemporary collection (level 4). There was so much stuff here to talk about I'll have to go over it in more detail once I transfer the journal to travellogs. Needless to say, my feet started to get the best of me so I headed out to rest for a bit back at the hotel. I finally hear from Sara and co. and I meet with them at Laurent's place around 8pm. By now I'm starving and am looking forward to trying out the repas and mojitos at Cava Cava (there was a flyer on the wall advetising it as a Sunday evening special) but everyone is more into hanging out playing video games and not quite hungry yet so I head out to Parmentier. I walk down Oberkapmf paying a little more attention to the places here as I'd like to check out a few later on. When I finally get to Cava Cava, I'm bummed because the special is over and they've closed down (it had started at 5pm). I walk back towards Oberkampf and enter Boteco, a Brazilian cafe where I grab a bite and chat with the bartender and waitress about places to go for the night. Unfortunately, it's Sunday so it seems there isn't much going on period. After dinner and a mojito, I move on down and reach La Maizon (well, the menu says that while outside it says La Forge), a really cool-looking place that was packed the night before but only has two people chatting on a couple of comfy red chairs. I chat with the bartender a bit while sipping on mojito number two (this one has a little more punch than number one). The music is a nice lounge compilation which he then changes to a groovy house beat. The two people at the bar leave so now it's just me and the bartender is a bit bummed so I orde a caipirinhia chat with him a bit more and just give the feet a rest. After about an hour, I apologize to the bartender for leaving but I must move on. The next place is La Mercerie where I jump on mojito number three which, I must say, was a bit dissapointing. However, the place has got not only a good crowd but is a nice collection of rooms providing some eye candy. The music here is funk and it's quite humorous hearing a french guy screaming "we've got the funk". I'm about to call it a night when I run into the last place, Les Cimes, which has a bunch of tables outside and some interesting scandinavian looking furninture inside. Mojito number four would be my last and followed by a yummy cup of espresso. It's late, I'm toasty, and I want to make sure I catch the last metro so I head out. Oberkampf is definitely a must-see for anyone wanting to experience Paris nightlife.
Sunday, June 29th, 2003
2:14 am	The Parade Saturday is to be one of the biggest parties in Paris with the famous gay parade running through the city with DJs like Laurent Garnier spinning all day. Taking a walk out, I can already tell this is going to be insane as the crowd of people is ridiculous overwelming. I had intentions of doing some more sightseeing but decided to leave it for the next few days and just sit and chill somewhere. My feet feel absolutely horrible and after just a bit of walking, I'm already all about settling down at Le Café and catching up on the journals. My server, Pollux, is someone Jack asked me to say hi to for him. He's half french, half spanish but he looks full-spanish to me. We strike a conversation where I show him a picture I grabbed off Jack's wedding registry page on amazon and he says he doesn't recognize him - probably because he's mid-kiss with Steph.. or maybe cause now he's got a shaved head. Anyways, the music they play at this place is usually a great mix of downtempo / chill / lounge / reggae but today it is exceptionally good. This is the main reason why I imagine Jack liked the place and why he recommended it. I definitely need a place like this back home. I decide to do more walking around and take some pictures. It's late aternoon and I haven't heard from Sara so I start to call Laurent who actually stayed the night at Sabine's which means Sara is alone at his place. He mentions I probably should go check up on her but I'm reluctant to take a trip there and maybe not find her. But I go ahead and stop by the hotel, freshen up and hop on the metro. At Bastille, the place is insane with the deep thumping sounds of house. The amount of people out is just ridiculous. I arrive at his flat around 6 and, sure enough, there's no sign of Sara. I leave a note and head down the street to a cafe and order a salad. About 20 minutes later, she walks past coming from checking out the parade for the last hour or so. We walk back to Laurent's and ind him at the door waiting or us as he'd forgotten his other set of keys. He mentions he wants to show us the bars on Oberkamp, a street east of République that is full of nightlife spots. Like a moron, however, I had forgotten to switch cameras to the digital so I head back to the hotel and we arrange to meet at the Parmentier metro stop at 9pm. So, no joke, Oberkampf is a strip not to be missed. There's every type of bar, lounge, and cafe you can ever think of. Japanese, Middle-eastern, Brazilian, you name it. We stop at a corner and wait about 30 seconds when Sabine shows up and start the night at Cava Cava Café, off rue Moret, where they're playing a nice salsa & merengue mix and are serving some good mojitos. The place is not very packed and is a little warm but it doesn't take long for Sara to get on a dancing mood so we join two other couples on the dancefloor. At around 11, we head out and walk a couple of doors down to a place with no name where a party Laurent knows of is taking place and meet up with Merlin and Jean-Paul. At the entrance, there's a small bar setup with beers for 5€. There's music coming from the floor below so we head down and find another bar and a dancefloor with a woman DJ who's spinning an interesting mix of songs. Some were good but, let's just say that "consistency" was not something they were trying to achieve here. She'd go from electro to punk to hip hop and for some reason I just can't dance going back and forth between all those different styles. After a few hours, I just can't take it anymore and decide to head out to find something more consistent. I start walking towards Rex when I realize I've got less than 10€ on me and, if I remember rom looking at the Lylo, their cover was to be 12€. I change course and head to the hotel. Strike two.
Saturday, June 28th, 2003
5:20 am	Laundry day Friday morning, Sara gets backto the hotel sometime around noon and she's desperate for clean clothes. Actually, she was desperate a day ago but somehow had managed. Yep, this is what travelling is all about. We bag all our stuff and walk around the corner to a place that, fortunately, is not busy at all so it won't take long to take care of things. The hotel we're at has actually proven quite convenient since it has the laundrymat, post office, metro, stores, and cafes, very close by. Anyways, I remember last year in Barcelona when four of us needed to do laundry (we'd been there for over three weeks then) and the place we found was pretty busy with a constant queue of people coming in. We opted to park ourselves (dirty laundry bags and all) for a meal across the street and occassionally checked until finally some machines opened up. Then the game was that of finding change. Depending on the size of the machines (which are *very* small), it runs at least 3€ for a wash and 1€ for 10 minutes of drying. With four people, that's a lot of change we didn't have and there's a limited number of places that are willing to break bills for you so it became almost comedic the way one of us would run to the grocery store two doors down and buy a coke with a 5€ bill and then return to start the machine. In the meantime, another machine would open up so someone else would run out to another store and buy another item that cost under 1€ to get more change. And so we're all, essentially, ping-ponging between the various places on the street. Plus then we had to do it again when drying time came around but by then we had agreed to dry our stuff together as, unlike the washers, dryers are rather large and, besides, the whole thing had just gotten ridicuous. Anyways, Sara and I can choose machines to our liking and we only need a load each, so after hunting down some coins, we figure out how to get detergent from the center console and then start the wash. Between laundry, eating, repacking, and dropping off Sara's bag at Laurent's where she's planning on staying the rest of the time here, the whole day just flies by. It's close to 7:30 so we head to Favela Chic for dinner. Laurent has a party at some cool club that he's going to try to get us into so we're planning on having dinner and drinks and, if things look good, we'll meet up with Laurent else we'll stay and enjoy the sounds of the Brazillian beat. We get to Favela shortly after 8 and there's not many people there yet so we're sat quickly and split a couple of things including a kick-ass ceviche, dessert and quite a few mojitos. At 10:00 things are starting to get moving in the place but we run out to call Laurent who says everything looks good for the party. I let out a big sigh and we head out to a club near the Arc de Triomphe named L'Etoile where Laurent is having an argument with the bouncer who won't let Merlin in because he's not dressed properly. Sara walks right in and then he asks the bouncer about me (wearing slacks, black dress shoes, and a long-sleeve dress shirt) and he says I'm too casual. What-the-fuck-ever. So Laurent says he's sorry and walks in leaving myself and a really pissed off Merlin outside and we're just about to head back out when Jean-Paul comes out. Merlin tells him to go back inside and tell Sara and the rest that we're leaving and, continues to curse everyone when Jean-Paul and Sara come back out saying they want to go. I'm mostly annoyed because I should have just stayed at Favela but I'm going with the flow. Again, there's four of us and two bicycles. Yep, you guessed it, here we are riding down not some tiny and desolate road but rather the avenue des Champ-Élysées. And we're not even on the sidewalk but actually on the road itself. And this time I have pictures to prove it, baby. We reach the Louvre and start examining our options when Merlin suggests a nearby irish pub named Au Caveau Montpensier which has a dungeon (duh!) type feel to it. We grab a round, a table and chat about things trying to get Merlin to forget about earlier. Eventually, Laurent, Sabine, and another one of his friends get there and I hung out for a while until, sometime around 4am, I call it a night and head back to the hotel. My mission: return to Favela at some point before I depart.
Friday, June 27th, 2003
3:19 am	Going solo Thursday morning and the weather is hot as hell. I just don't get it. Last June I had to *buy* a sweater at the H&M because I only brought one and this year I bring three and I've yet to use any of them even once. What the heck is going on here? Today we start really really late and I'm in a rush as we're to have lunch with Laurel's cousin's partner's sister, Melissa, who lives here in Paris and who I've been wanting to meet just to hear her perspective on parisian life. The cafe we're meeting at is not as close as I was expecting so we end up being about 20 minutes late but she's there still waiting. She talks about living and working here, her experience with the bureaucratic system that one would have to go through to work here as a foreigner, the contrast between here and New York where she also lived and enough other topics to keep us entertained while we eat. At 1:30 we part ways as we're now supposed to head to Laurent's work where they're putting the finishing touches on a weekly spot on TV. The office is on an interesting-looking building on the west side of the city by the Seine. The spot where he works is on the ground level and is basically a group of maybe ten small offices each with all kinds of TV equipment and / or computers where they digitally produce titling sequences with After Effects and the likes. There's about 15 people working, most in their 20's and early 30's and about 1/3 to 1/2 are women. They show us a few of the clips they're working on and then we walk over to a nearby brasserie for a break and a drink where he tells us that production of the show is to end in two days after which they'll all be without a job. Total downer. Back in the office we call Merlin and talk with Jean-Paul who wants to meet us and hang out for a bit so we're off to meet him in front of Notre Dame at 4 pm. We walk around, grab a bite, and start heading towards Bastille where I'm to find an Fnac to see if I can still buy a ticket for tonight's Tricky concert at Zènith. Sara and Jean-Paul plan on walking over to Père Lachaise from there so, 29€ later and ticket in hand we split up and I head back to hotel. I have to hussle as the concert starts at 8pm and the hall is on the north east side of town bordering the burbs. Speaking of concerts, as one would expect in a big city, there's no shortage. However, they seem to be a lot cheaper than ones back in the states. For example, we just caught Beck at the Hard Rock in Orlando and the total ticket price was almost $40. Here, I can get a ticket or Rock en Seine, an upcoming show with Massive Attack, Morcheeba, Beck, and P.J. Harvey or 39€. Only problem is it's on August 27. But still, what a lineup. Good grief! I'm on the metro to a station that gives me to options to get to the venue. I choose the line that runs just south and, once on the car, I realize the station that I'm supposed to stop at is closed for work (and just closed two days before). Again, it's not a ar walk but still, my feet. They're destroyed. Zènith is one of various other music venues located in what I think is called La Villette and it is the one furthest north. I walk up, hand over my ticket and then move down the line where a woman stops me to check my pockets and then tells me cameras are not allowed. I'm bummed as I check it and then enter the hall. It's not a huge place but still must have room or maybe 6000 people. There are chairbacks plus the floor space below in front of the stage which, even at 8pm, is not very full. I move down and wait. The opening group is from San Francisco (the name escapes me) and, while the music and sound is good, it's a bit happy for the mood I'm in. My mindset is on for Tricky, something that doesn't necessarily make me think "happy" music. Next to me there's a couple snaping shots every minute with their digital camera and, being four rows away from the stage, I'm just cursing myself. So, what can I say about Tricky? Even with my feet and calves in horrible shape (my feet.. argh!) I'm dancing like mad. There's no disrespecting the trip-hop rhythm, baby. It's all I can say. I really need to pick up the latest cd as I hadn't even heard any of it until the concert. At 12:30 I'm walking back down to the train station but I'm not necessary in the mood to deal with calling people and walking to meet them somewhere so I catch the last train into the city, work on the journal a bit and crash.
Thursday, June 26th, 2003
12:33 am	The tower at night Check-out time is 12, so I'm up by 11 and run out to get us a baguette and water for the road. I also pick up a copy of the Pariscope (0.40€), a weekly guide of what's going on in Paris where Sara finds something very very appealing going on Thursday night that I'll get into more if we end up going.. Speaking of Paris guides, there's also one called the Lylo that we picked up at a couple of bars and has a nice listing per day of what's going on in the different districts (or arrondissements) of Paris. There are 20 districts in the city and when reading about where places are you usually hear the district number and / or metro station that's closest. Anyways, we head back to our old hotel, drop off our bags and move on to just south of the Seine looking for a british bookstore named Shakespeare & Company that Sara's sister mentioned to her in an email. From what she says, it's a place where aspiring writers can work and stay for free so Sara is really interested in checking it out. The place is right off rue de la Bûcherie, just south of Notre Dame running along the river which makes it actually very easy to find. The store itself is two stories and completely crammed with books. Right off the bat, I hear the guy working near the front speaking to a customer in english (come to think of it, I haven't really heard too many english-speaking tourists this time around). Walking past him, there's a room with what looks like a small well complete with coins at the bottom but totally dry. Further back, I walk through a couple of other small rooms and find a narrow and steep staircase to the second floor. Upstairs and to the right there's a small cot and more shelves with books. To the left, a hallway leads you past a tiny cubicle with a typewriter where a woman is crammed reading a book. At the end, a larger room provides a nice view out the front of the store where you can catch the top of the towers of Notre Dame. Books in this room are only for refrence, a sign tells me. Back towards the stairs, another room opens up to two more small beds - one of which is being used by a girl who's reading - and even more shelves and shelves. I love this place. I walk back downstairs and head outside where I run into Sara. She hasn't even checked out the place inside for some reason - I swear, sometimes she kills me. I tell her she has to check out the upstairs so she finally agrees and turns and gives me a funny look as soon as she's confronted with the staircase. West of the bookstore we walk through a little park and then head south towards the Arenes de Lutece, a place Laurent mentioned to us. It's essentially the remains of a roman arena built sometime between the first and third century (I think). We arrive and, funny enough, there's a group of five guys playing with swords. Or maybe they're practicing for some play, I don't know. I'm just thinking to myself: what better place to practice with a sword than where gladiators once actually fought. We head back to the hotel and stop to call Laurent and make dinner reservations. Sara wants to see the tower tonight and I know of a kick-ass restaurant in the area that we went to last summer. We get ready and head out around 9. So, last year Ian, Oz and myself spent about 45 minutes looking for this place cause I didn't plan properly and we just happened to have gone up the tower and were suddenly hungry and Jack had basically ordered me to check this place out. Anyways, this time I was prepared so it didn't take long to find and, as the previous time, it didn't dissapoint. We got sat upstairs in a room towards the front of the building amongst three other tables one of which was speaking spanish, and the other three english. It felt like the chamber of foreigners. Anyways, listening to the spanish-speaking group of six it doesn't take me long before I tell Sara: "they are so Colombian I just can't even tell you". I finally catch them in a little break from their conversation and, not only were they Colombian but two of them were former Gators having attended UF in the late 60's / early 70's. Wow. Done with our entrees, crème brûlé and coffee (you can't resist dessert here, trust me), we stroll down to the tower and time it perfectly. Just as we're in front of the south-east leg, the sparkling lights come on startling the two of us (Sara must have jumped about three feet). Seriously, it's almost ridiculous how many lights are on this thing. We take some snapshots and then crack open a bottle of wine we had picked up earlier in the day - this time we have cups but we are kind of in a rush as Sara told Laurent we'd meet him at the Pop In around 11. Let me just say that I thought I was bad at underestimating time and alwas being casually late but Sara wins the gold medal at this. It's hilarious. We hop on what is the last train to République - we don't know this but we do find out as it just cometely shuts down once we get there. We were supposed to change lines but now have to walk the rest of the way. It's really not so bad as we were to go just one station on the other line and stations are pretty close together anyways. We find Laurent, Merlin and his cousin Jean-Paul who is visiting from Calgary. We hang out for a bit and decide to move on as they're about to close. Oh, by the way, I did find out that it is the law that says places have to close at 2am, but they can apply (and pay) for special permits that let them stay open after hours. Yeah, I don't get it either. Now, the metro is closed, Laurent has his scooter, and Merlin and Jean-Paul have bicycles which leaves me with no mode of transportation as Sara is just gong to ride with Laurent. Well, rational and sober people would deduce this, at least. We, on the other hand, think it's a great idea for me to ride on Jean-Paul's handlebars something that I wish I had pictures to prove but it's tough when you're hanging on to dear life trying not to be flung of a moving vehicle while both of us are drunk. All I can think about this is that I'm probably going to be ok once I return to the states cause mom and dad didn't kill me after finding out I ran with the bulls last year and this can't be half as bad. Still, we hit roads that were pretty desolate but still managed to hit a couple of plazas and intersections where we came *thisclose* to moving cars. Somehow, now, it just seemed fun. We eventually end up at a place called Objectif Lune, a small and smoky (duh!) pub off rue de la Roquette where we gather around a table and grab some beers. At some really blurry point that involved me riding on handle bars for the second time in the evening, we ended up at Laurent's where we hung out until, once again going back to our sunrise schedule, we walk back to the hotel and crashed. I'm going to need a vacation after this.
Wednesday, June 25th, 2003
9:54 am	Buttes Chaumont Even with the extra hours of sleep, we don't manage to wake up before noon. At least my body will be in some sort of decent schedule when I get back, right? Today's plans deviate a bit and we head down to Gare du Nord where we're wanting to get some cash and check email. Sara suggests we find some park again so looking at the map we see the Place de Stalingrad which seems to break the flow of the Bassin de la Villette, a canal the enters Paris from the north-east and dumps into the Seine just south of Bastille. On the way we make a few stops and collect a sesame baguette, a bottle of red wine (and bottle opener), some water, 1/2 kg of cherries, and 1/2 kg of green grapes and this luscious pastry named something like Mille Feuiller - a flaky, cream-filled monolith of goodness. Aww yeah. There's no denying the power of the european boulangeries. The selection of sweets is astounding, with my favorites being the lemon and strawberry tartes, and now also the mille feuiller. And, with a boulangerie just about every block, there's no sweet tooth that can't be satisfied. What do we have in the states every other block? Starbucks. Whatever. We reach the plaza and walk around it to take a look at the canal. There's a few boats parked on the side and I wonder why I'd never heard of this as it is pretty cool. Ater a few pictures, we head south east towards the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, the green patch that Sara has her eyes on. This is another nice residential area that is a bit uphill with the park located at the end of avenue Secretan. Like the bassin, we've never heard of this place so we have no idea what to expect. We follow a path that takes us to an open area where a decent number of people are just relaxing and getting some sun. There's a little creek that runs at the bottom and kids are just jumping in to cool down (it's not as hot today as it was Monday, however). There's a group of teens getting each other wet via bottles that keep getting re-filled at the water fountain. Actually, it's like eight girls and one boy. What a stud. We finish off the baguette (we had been working on it while we walked), opened the bottle and proceeded to drink right out of it as we totally forgot to get some cups (nice!) and just hung out watching the crowd for some time. Once done with all the food, we continued following another path that took us to a small pond with an island in the middle that rises quite a ways up and houses a small monastery (?) at the top. To get on the island, one can cross one of two bridges which are not just at ground level but rather a couple of stories up (remember, this park is very hilly). So we walk up to the bridge, cross, and then follow a cave-like path up to the top, stopping occassionally for pictures. We enjoy another decent view where we can see the Sacré Coeur among other things. However, there are a lot of tall buildings around so it doesn't beat the one rom the night before. Still, it's really cool considering we had no idea this was even there. We stop for a cup of coffee on the way out and head back to Montmartre. After getting changed, we're on a mission to get some mussels today (we actually didn't get some the day before as the people next to us had ordered the last two portions) so, this time we hit Chez Eugène right off the Place du Tertre where we split the mussels and a goat cheese salad and a gigantic portion of crème brûlé. Again, what's there to do but head over to the steps and look at the city except it's now past 11pm and we have a much larger crowd including a group of ten or so who brough their own *couch*. Freaking awesome. We take some pictures and start to walk down around 12 when the stunning new lights of the Tour Eiffel catch our eyes (we hadn't seen it from the steps as some trees are in the way toward the west side of the city). I think it was Agathe who had mentioned that the tower got new lights for the turn of the millenium but that they re-did them again for la fête de la musique and, let me tell you, it sparkles. And they only do it between 12 and 12:10 at night so we just happened to have gotten lucky. Sara then suggests we check it out the next day up close and personal. Down on blvd de Clichy, the game of looking for a place to go out has started again. Follie's Pigalle is open, but it's 20€ per person (includes one drink) and Sara doesn't want to go. It's still early (around 1am) and the music didn't sound that great anyways so we walk around and check to see if Le Divan du Monde is open tonight but, no luck, it must mainly have nights on the weekends. So we find a karaoke bar that is pretty packed and enjoy watching people get up amongst the crowd and sing to french songs that are totally cracking us up (mostly ballads and that type of thing). Sara is not able to handle it too long so after a drink we just head back to the room and people-watch from the balcony. Interestingly enough, the little food stand right below us seems to be the primo late-night stop as cars just continuously pull up and people get out and start munching on sandwiches or crêpes. It's quite funny to watch as there' absolutely no regard for how to park on the street. It ends up being a game of shifting blocks to get some cars out of there. Tomorrow, we head back to the city and make plans to hit the tower at night.
Tuesday, June 24th, 2003
3:46 am	Moving 10am, tired, groggy, we have to check out by 11 and we have no hotel reseved for the night. The afternoon is going to suck. We're off to Montmartre, where we want to spend a couple of nights. We take the metro to Anvers, one of like four stations that surround Montmartre, to the south and near the bottom of the hill. We walk up a couple of blocks to rue Tardieu where we stop for a coffee, sandwich and some water. The cafe provides a gorgeous view of the park, steps, and the Sacré Coeur at the top. After finding the energy to walk up, we take a stroll inside of the cathedral and then move on to the village next to it. The Place du Tertre is a small square surrounded by cafes, brasseries, and restaurants and houses a vast amount of painters with their work on display and for sale. I overhear a couple of them speaking perfect english giving the impression that they just really wanted to live here and this is what they do for a living so it can't be that bad of a business. Everyone gets a lot of attention here and we're no exception so we're asked over and over if we would like to get a portrait done. We walk down rue Norvins, past the two piano bars I remember from last year, and start asking around about hotels or places to stay. There doesn't seem to be too much up here so we start heading down the hill, towards the west side. We run into a few oddly placed windmills scattered around the neighborhood which, by the way, is beautiful. It must be expensive as nuts to live here. Around rue des Abbesses we find a hotel with a room available only for one night but it's a little pricey and, frankly, the room (which we're allowed to go up and see) seems better fit for a couple in their honeymoon. Sara and I look at each other and move on (and she won't stop commenting and cracking up about the rose wallpaper). We then find the hôtel de Montmartre with an entrance that doesn't exactly give one a nice cozy feeling. To give you an idea, it seems all hotels are (and maybe have to?) rated and show this on a sign as you enter so right away you know i it's a one star, etc. Problem is, I can't ind it anywhere. Then, the woman tells me it's 25€ / night and that's cheap as heck (we were paying around 50€ at the other hotel). We go up to look at the room and, well, I'll leave it at this: it's probably not a good sign when the door opens with the sort of screeching sound you hear in a bad horror flick. We move on and are getting a little far away for my taste but Sara wants to find something cheaper than the rose-wallpaper place so we end up near the end of rue Lepic at Hôtel Beauséjour with a room for two nights at 40€ each. The room is ok but it has a cool balcony that looks down to boulevard de Clichy. Sara really likes it but she doesn't realize this is a spot with an insane concentration of, um, let's say adult venues. But, at least, we're two doors down from the Moulin Rouge so that's a plus, yes? With the hotel room paid for, we head back to our old hotel to grab the bags they're holding for us, return, and nap for a couple of hours. Around 6pm we head back up to the top of the hill for some more walking around. Mussels and fries seem to be a specialty these days and we're totally in the mood for them so we stop at Chez ma Cousine, a restaurant right next to the square off rue Norvins that has them advertised for around 10€. At around 8pm we park ourselves on the steps in front of the cathedral and relax while catching the sunset. Ok, so it's the beginning of the sunset since it won't happen for another two hours. We spend about half an hour there just chilling and admiring the fantastic view of Paris which makes one feel like these steps are just the place you want to be right now. We head back down and start looking for some nightlife on blvd de Clichy. Sara is just amazed at how many strip joints, etc. are here and we're cracking up at some of them like the Sexodrome with a front that looks more like some ride at disney. Seriously, the concentration is insane - there must be a 10:1 ratio of strip joints for every cafe / restaurant / pub. We end up at place Pigalle and Follie's Pigalle, the club we were trying to get to the night of the infamous metro sleepover but, unfortunately, it's closed (and it's kind of early anyways). We see a couple of places we could check out but eventually settle for Edward & Son, an irish pub that is crazy packed and, ater one beer we're smoked out of the place. I tell you, this smoking thing here is ridiculous. If you stood just inside and looked out the door and up, you'd see the smoke pour out of the place like it was a fast food burger joint. It's past 2am and after a little more walking around back towards the hotel we find le Chat Noir with a total of six people inside - including us. Funny thing about Paris, a lot of the bars close at 2am. I don't think it's law as there are a few exceptions (probably owner's choice?) plus the clubs are always open late. Still, it's something I find unusual considering we can always find some cafes and food stands open at 4am. We decide to head back to the room and crash so, for once, we won't see the sunrise tonight.
Monday, June 23rd, 2003
1:53 am	Recovering Sunday afternoon, 1pm or so.. bascially some really short 5 hours after getting back to our room this morning. Marc calls, he's downstairs, never made it to Sacre Coeur either, and is wanting to head back to Germany soon. Anne gets ready, we all gather on the street and we say goodbye. Sara and I are in need of a waker-upper so she suggests Le Café where we grab what has become our usual: espresso (me) and café creme (Sara). We split a goat cheese salad (you eat a lot of salads when it's as hot as it is here right now - 40 deg C, the paper says today - and when you're walking around as much as we seem to be). Sara's also fallen in love with the dressing at the place (to the point where she put it on the tarte we ordered with Anne on Friday). And, as I've learned to expect, the coffee is great. The usual people are here, most of which I remember from last summer. It's amazing how people keep their jobs in Europe. In the states, even in a big city, I wouldn't expect to return to some cafe a year later and find the same people working there. Here, it just seems very common. Anyways, we're beat. Sara wants to chill and find a park or something low-key but we also need to send some emails and look up some stuff online so we walk down to M. Châtelet and take care of things. Tonight we're planning on hanging out with Laurent and co. plus we wanted to try and get a hold of Pauline to see if more crazyness can ensue. We head west towards the Louvre where we take some pictures, watch some of the street performers including this stunning woman chanting to an opera soundtrack courtesy of her friend and her boombox. We eventually reach the Jardin des Tuileries, a nice park between the Louvre and the Obelisque, which has a good crowd of people just relaxing, sunbathing, enjoying the sunlight. To the north, there's a small amusement park set up with a ferris wheel and some of those other contraptions that spin people around. To the west, the jardin provides a nice patch of trees and is rich in benches and chairs so we head there, park and nap for over an hour. It's now close to 8pm (it's not getting dark until after 10pm.. this, combined with the fact that we insist on staying out until sunrise is really starting to mess us up. It always feels early.. or late. We've either done too much or not enough. We can't remember if we did something last night or this morning. It's nuts). Sara wants to go on one of the rides (the name escapes me) so we pay our 3€ and get some shots as we're spun around. We head back to the hotel and talk to Laurent who suggests we come over to his place and hang out so on our way we go sometime around 10pm. Now, for some reason, we insist on letting Sara get directions from Laurent which is pointless as she can barely understand him particularly when he's giving her street names in French. So, what ends up happening is, we talk to him, head in the general direction, and then call him again once we're near -- at which point, I get on the phone. This time, things were made a bit worse because we had the wrong street number and found ourselves staring down a dark stairwell in the back of some building. You know, the type of place the audience at the theater would be screaming "Don't go in there!". To make matters worse, our phone card is out so we first have to find a tabac shop or grocery store (that's open after 10pm on a Sunday night). So, let me talk about the phone system or a sec: cell phones are pretty popular here as well and, much like in the states, cell companies have their own sets of area codes. So, land-lines in Paris are denoted by its city code of 1 while cells have a number that starts with 66. Now, this is no big deal, of course, except that when you buy a phone card for payphones, you have to choose whether you're going to be calling people with land lines or cell phones. I figured we needed to call mainly hotels, restaurants, etc. so opted or the corded one, but when we call Laurent's cell, it just eats right through it (and, at 7€ ea., it's not cheap). Also, something to keep in mind is when dialing a number in Europe, it's different depending on whether you're calling from the same country. Sure, if you're in another country, you have country codes that must be dialed (33 for France, 49 for Germany, etc.) and it must be prefixed with a 00. For example, Duc des Lombards' number is: 33 1 42 33 22 88. So, sure to call from outside of France, you dial 00 33 1 42... but to call within France, you drop the international and country code and preix it with a single zero: 01 42 33 22 88. This is why you sometimes see numbers denoted as 33 (0) 1 42 33 22 88. Anyways, back to us. It actually doesn't take long to find a shop and then call Laurent who comes out to meet us. Back at his place we meet Merlin, a good friend of his who is actually Chilean; and Barbara, who is visiting from Rome but actually used to live in Paris a little while back. Also there is Sabine, Laurent's girlfriend who, actually, is German. So, it's hillarious how conversations start morphing from language to language with Merlin and I all of the sudden speaking in Spanish, he and Barbara doing a little Italian, etc. I'm loving it. So, we spend the night just drinking wine and beer, listening to some of Laurent's music selection and talking about things such as how ugly american dollar bills are - Sara had given a $20 to Laurent and he kept staring at it closely because he thought it was not real. He finally gave up, put it in his pocket and gave himself the nickname "Laurent, Le Millionaire", humoring the power of the USD. Again, it's close to 4am and we're calling it a night. We're somewhere between Bastille and Place de la Nation, so it's going to be about a 30-minute walk back to the hotel which means the sun is coming out.. it kills me.
Sunday, June 22nd, 2003
12:40 pm	La fête de la musique So I was supposed to work on updating the journal this morning but instead we just slept until noon. Marc calls and he's all about the catacombs and they're downstairs in the lobby so he heads out for 20 minutes or so while we get ready. Once back together, we hop on the metro to the Denfert-Rochereau station which drops you off right in front of the entrance. As we come up to the street, we can hear sound check going on for the big event that will start there in a few hours (one of the names being Simple Minds.. hmm). Now, admission to the catacombs is advertised as 5€ or adults and 2.5€ for ages 14-26 but somehow Anne gets in for free, Marc and Matthias get in for 5€ total and Sara and I pay 5 each. Of course we didn't realize this until afterward when we started talking about the price but oh well. As they like to say back in America: C'est la vie. Anyways, the catacombs starts with a long descent on a spiral staircase that may make you wonder if it's ever going to end. At the bottom, the first area you enter is a set of rooms with all kinds of literature explaining the origin of the "attraction". So, the abridged version is that for some time, Paris used to have mainly above-ground cemeteries which were causing a lot of health problems because of the decomposing bodies so at some point they figured it would be better to collect them all and put them underground taking up an area of a few kilometers in length. It's actually quite impressive once you exit the introductory rooms and start walking cause you start to realize just how long the whole thing is. You start going through a passage way that takes several turns and reminds you of scenes from Goonies or Raiders of the lost Arc (Marc kept mentioning how he was expecting a giant rock rolling behind us.. here, however, it'd have to be a giant wheel as the hall has a rectangular shape). You eventually hit another small room right before the stacks of bones start. And, again, it's stacks and stacks, each organized and with a plaque explaining from which cemetery they came from and what year it was that they were moved. Some date back to the 1700s, it's just unbelievable. The wall of bones is probably a meter and a half in height, with depth varying on the available space - in some places you can see it go back probably six meters or so. And, interestingly enough, all stacks have bones arranged in such a way to form symbols like the pirate skull and crossed bones, etc. And, again, bones are along both sides of the hall.. for quote some way. We're wondering how it is possible that these remains are in the conditions they're in as it is not only cool down below but also somewhat humid (there's water dripping from the ceiling). Anyways, after enough walking, Sara is getting a little freaked out since she's a bit claustrophobic and starts running. Well, we think she did cause Anne and I paused to take a picture and we were not able to catch up with her until the end - as in back up on the street. Likewise, Marc stopped for a second and lost track of Matthias so he's running trying to catch up but then starts to wonder whether Matthias is actually in front or maybe stayed back. So the theory goes that Sara and Matthias made it a game to see who could get out first (even i it was for different reasons,, Sara was playing the "aaah! I want out!" while Matthias was playing "ooh.. race"). The other interesting tidbit about the catacombs is that the exit is in a very residential area. The actual door is in between two- and three-storie buildings where, well, people live. It's just kind of strange for some reason. Once everyone made it out, we wondered for a couple of blocks and ran into a cafe where a band was setting up to play so we decided to grab a drink and wait until they started. After the first beer, we were wondering if they'd ever play but finally it begun a little after four o'clock. The band was pretty good but most entertaining of all was the drummer only because he was such a non-traditional looking guy when you think of how most drummers are. I guess it wasn't as big of a deal except for the fact that he was wearing a fisherman's hat. We ordered a second beer and then decided to move on to the east side of the city to an area near the Seine called quai François Mauriac which is the where you'd find a place that Jack also recommended: Batofar. There's a lot of quais along the river so I asked and, well, that's because "quai" means something along the lines of "dock". Anyways, we arrive at metro quai de la Gare and walk towards the river and right away we can tell things are going on due to the festivities (someone actually had asked "which way now?" and all I could help but say was "follow the music"). As we came up near the river, we looked down to where some heavy progressive house sounds were coming from and found a complete DJ setup with five guys taking turns spinning. There was a small crowd gathered but nobody was dancing - which was a shame cause the music was pretty good. We stuck around for a bit and then moved along the river towards other spots where we could see crowds of people gathered. By now we're all pretty hungry and ready for a drink so we stop at the next place which actually looked like a restaurant off a boat with a bunch of tables set up on the dock. Marc and Matthias get a funky hot dog with tomatoes and cucumbers (Anne and I are looking at these things going: "WTF?") and we order some mojitos. While we're waiting around I decide to check out the remaining two spots before the bridge just to see what they're like because, althought there was a band setting up over where we were, the music currently playing wasn't exactly our cup of tea. So the next spot was in this lower area which housed another DJ setup booming some house beats. Sounded good but I was on a mission to find Batofar and there seemed to be only one place left ahead before I reached the next bridge. And, let me tell you, I knew this was the place. The music was just engulfing - deep bass, smooth downtempo beats, brassy hits.. dazzling, fascinationg - like you may think to yourself "maybe I should move along" but only your body is going "maybe you shouldn't". The place was set up with tables along the dock, three bars, the big red boat and a big red bus parked at the front. The DJ is actually spinning on the boat while the PA is over where the bus is so the entire sitting (and standing) area is enguled by the sound. Now, I actually couldn't ind a sign that said Batofar (it was kind of crowded) but the bus did say "Batofar presents..." and there were some posters that also implied this was it. I headed back, gathered the crew and a few minutes later we had a table and mojitos in hand. We hung around for a bit, talked, had another drink and finally decided to try Favela Chic again. Anne threw around the idea of heading back to Germany with Marc (he had offered at some point earlier) so tonight would be her last night in Paris and she was really all about the samba. Marc and Matthias headed back to get ready while the three of us stayed a bit longer with Sara and I trying to get Anne to stay until Friday as she originally intended. Unfortunately, the problem was that she was almost out of cash and with other way to get some. While this is going on, Anne notices this guy she's fascinated with and, now, we're just standing and talking about last minute things when she darts off, goes around the tables towards the guy, grabs his face, gives him a huge kiss on the cheek, and walks off. I tell Sara, while laughing at the whole thing in awe: "i think we're going". We made our way back to the hotel, got ready and headed out to Place de la Republique where, again, we managed to make it there by 9:30 even though Rodrigo had been told the night before to try and get reservations for the evening (or to come early, as Jack had advised). But regardless, we figured we'd just wait except or one little problem: it was closed. Now, this didn't make sense: Saturday night and closed? It was just us who were surprised as several other people walked up to it and found it odd. My theory is that it must have been the fact that Brazil had lost just two nights ago and, you know, we south americans take our soccer seriously and sometimes you just have to mourn. But that's just a theory. Anyways, now we're hungry and wondering what to do and the plaza is packed with people because of the band playing (the streets are closed, by the way). Anne and Sara were in a kick or sushi so we found a place and split a boat which came with miso soup, sashimi, rolls, and eight salmon skewers or like 50€. We then walked through the crowd where everyone was just singing out loud to, I guess, Simple Minds (to our amazement.. what is it with such contrasting music taste? It wasn't just an older crowd either.. lots of young people, singing as well. We can't figure it out). Anyways, we're trying to figure out what to do so we head west on boulevard St. Martin toward the area where the Rex Club is.. or somewhere west, east, north or south of it. It's still early (close to midnight by now) and it's dead there and the cover is 12€ so we decide against it and walk across the street to this bar called Le Matin, I think, where a DJ is spinning a mad set of tech-house. We get a coffee and watch random people walk by, stop, and get on a table to dance for a bit. Seriously. At 12:30 we were under a little pressure to figure out what to do since the metro usually runs until 12:45 so we hoped on board back down to Batofar to check out the action by the river. And it was mad. On the same side we'd been on earlier, things were pretty much the same except the crowd was much larger and there was one more group of musicians at the end playing reggae / dub. We crossed the pont de Tolbiac to the other side where it was a ridiculous arrangement of DJ booths every 40 meters or so, each one playing a different style of electronic music: house, trance, jungle, hard trance, ridiculous 180 bpm cardiac german techno.. you name it. It was sometimes hard to distinguish what you were hearing cause everything was so close together and, frankly, we had enough and were craving the sound of Batofar so, across pont de Bercy we went, back to the other side and walked straight up to the line that lets you go on board of the boat. This time, there was no DJ on the deck, but we just wanted to go on board to see what it was like. While the line wasn't very long, it was one where you're not allowed to go in until someone leaves. The deck was empty so we're trying to figure out just how many people are there and how big it is because we don't even hear music or anything (aside from what's outside). Ater a short wait and the careful placement of cute faces courtesy of Anne and Sara we're on and are greeted by the door person next to a stairwell that goes down. We pay 10€ each, and go inside. First, you have coat check - which was more than that as people were leaving bags, purses, etc. and then you go further down to a decent sized dancefloor - complete with lights, smoke machine (as if they're needed here) and bar. It's packed with people, of course and, remember, this is a *boat*. So we grab a drink while Anne is trying to get this french guy who is ascinated with her and won't let go and then escape toward the back where the DJ is set up on this stage-like area up from the dancefloor. We're still trying to go on the deck so we look around for the way up but can only notice something that looks like the way to the right of the DJ. Common sense would say we should just be as low-key as possible and just enjoy ourselves but, instead, we have Anne Wolf with us and that's just not going to happen. First, we must go up on stage to try and find the way up to the deck, which is of course closed. Now, it could be worse: we could be up by the DJ and his friends with a huge freaking spotlight shining right on us.. and we could just decide to start dancing up there. So, sweating profusely (it was hot as nuts down there), we dance for a good thirty to forty-five minutes until we're wanting to cool down so we head to the back, past the stairs by the entrance and to this chill-out area with tables and another bar. Here, Anne proceeds to strike a conversation with the coat-check guy. Well, she's trying to speak French, he's trying to speak English, and I'm trying to translate and, it would have been easier had we been talking about simple stuff but, no, we're talking about the US, politics, he's wanting to know why we chose Bush for president, we explained the whole election and minority voting fiasco, etc. Then, in walks Pauline, a really stunning french girl and she jumps in on the conversation. Eventually, Sara and I decide to get back to the dancefloor and find a nice and somewhat cool corner (front, left) and dance for a while. Eventually we run into Anne & Pauline and now we're meeting her friends and we're asking them what they're doing cause it's almost 5am and this place is about to close. We're thinking about checking out a club with an after party that gets kicking about then but it's far away (yet close to Sacre Coeur where we had arranged to meet Marc & Matthias to listen to the chanting during mass... I know, we're nuts). Anyways, Pauline & her friends are wanting us to stay but we decide to go for some reason. So we try and call Laurent to see what he's up to but our phone card runs out. Then we notice the metro is running - because of the celebration - and, even worse, we realize we could have bought a day pass for 2.5€ instead of using a bunch of tickets from a 10-pack. So, we take the train, a long ride to M. Pigalle and, unortunately, we wake up about seven stops past it (and three stops beore the end of the line). I suggest we just get back on and return but Anne and I want to freaking walk even thought we're about 45-minutes away. Whatever. So up avenue Victor Hugo we go, past the Arc de Triomphe and eventually sense (or exhaustion) hits them and we ind a station and take the metro back to the hotel. So they're wanting to "change" and then head out to Sacre Coeur, but instead we just pass out for the night. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, June 21st, 2003
4:33 am	Meeting day Thursday night on the way to Hôtel de Ville, I walked past the cafe to find everyone exiting after Cameroon had beaten Brazil. Needless to say, Allain and company where pretty happy. I take a couple of turns trying to find some new things to look at and hit a strip with a lot of cafes and bars and make a mental note to check it out on the way back. I don't note the street name because I'm close enough to figure out how to get there. Anyways, posting takes no time, and I decide to try and find rue des Lombards where one can find Cafe des Lombards, a jazz bar that Jack had mentioned was worth checking out among a bunch of other cool places. So I have a general idea of where rue des Lombards is but I head back the same way I came cause I want to take a closer look at the bars I saw earlier. Well, sure enough, *that* was the des Lombard strip and there's a cuban cafe, a spanish tapas place, and just about anything you could want here as far as variety. Still, I want to check out Cafe des Lombards but I can't seem to find it so I turn north on rue Quincompoix where there was this cool little place that really caught my eye on the way down: Café L'imprévu, a colorful little place with a bunch of neat decor and a neat looking crowd. As you enter, you walk through a narrow hall with tables on both sides and then you run into the bar. From here you can go left into a small room with windows onto the street or continue to two other rooms in the back, one of which houses a couple of comfy couches and where no smoking is allowed (and they let you know this). I grab a table, hang around checking the art hanging on the walls while having a couple of Stellas and call it a night by 12:30. Jet lag is hitting me again and I hate to be up early to meet Sara at the airport. And, just my luck, on my way home I run into Café des Lombards, actually on the same road as the strip of bars but on the other side of boulevard de Sébastopol. So Friday starts taking the shape o appointment day: - 7:10, meet Sara - 11:00, email Anne with status o how everything is going. I all is ok with Sara's light, we can choose when to meet for lunch. I not, we'll stick with our original meeting time of 1pm. Now, I know that doesn't seem too big a deal, but more would comne later. Anyways, I leave at 7:15am figuring the the ride up on the train took about 30 minutes when I arrived and Sara won't be out getting her bags until 7:30 at the earliest. Well, as it turns out, the train ends up taking longer because it makes more stops on the way up so it's 8:00 when I get to the terminal. Fortunately, everyone's still waiting for their bags but, unfortunately, more and more people start leaving and until it ends up being Sara and another handul waiting around and no bags to be seen. About 20 minutes pass by until someone informs the people at Air France and, thankfully, things are taken care of and we're on the train back by 9:30. At the hotel, Sara takes a breather while I run out to email Anne and let her know we'll be at Le Café at 11:30 (it's now just before 11). Then I call Rodrigo and we set up our meeting time for 2:30 (add to appointment book) and then Marc who will be in town at 3pm and who we'll meet around 5. It's 11:20 and we're off. Sara is all convinced she can ight the jeg lag but I laugh and say it's inevitable: by 2:30 she'll be useless. We arrive at Le Café and find Anne waiting for us but she's not alone. As it turns out, she had arrived at 6:30am and had found her way to Le Café by 7 and had just sat there and waited but it wasn't too boring as she kept meeting people who seemed really friendly. Anyways, there's more to that story including some Jamaican guy, and Moses (her "friend") who had taken her to the bank, an internet cafe, and was really adamant of letting her know how well off he was. Anne is just a vortex of attention where ever she goes. Even in Paris. We split a tuna tarte, a vegetable tarte, and this delicious apricot custard-type thing and head back to the hotel where we all rest for a bit. Around 2:30, Rodrigo calls from the front desk so I come down to meet them. So, I think I mentioned this beore (so much has happened since I can'tremember what I said in my first post) but Rodrigo is a friwend from my pre-school days in Venezuela. He lived there until the mid-90s when he moved to the US for grad school and eventually headed urther north to end up in Toronto. This spring he's been in Milan doing a study-abroad project for his program. Anyways, it's him and Peter, a classmate from Toronto who is actually from Denmark and who he's working along on some interesting project dealing with speech recognition. Anyways, we decide to head for a drink after finding out we can't bring guests to the rooms (Anne & Sara needs the sleep anyways) so we hit an Irish pub about half a block down from the hotel. The funniest thing about rue St. Denis is that the section we're in is one block away from Forum les Halles, a very american-like mall. The street is usually packed with people but the shops are o an interesting variety. for example, in the block just south of the hotel you can find a bakery, an adult video store, a store that specializes in gay videos, the irish pub, a clothing store, a couple of cafes, and an internet cafe. Now, in the states, all kinds of people would have a big problem with this strip, but here nobody makes a big deal about it. So we catch up on things and meet the waitress who has a thick french accent but claims to be from London, having just moved here two weeks ago. We're sort of looking at each other trying to figure out what's going on there. Anyways, Rodrigo and Peter decide to do a little shopping while I go back to the hotel to wake up Sara & Anne. Thirty minutes later we're all out on the street and we introduce everyone, It's now around 4:30 and Rodrigo & Peter head out to do some sightseeing and we agree to meet at Favela Chic for dinner. Anne, Sara and I walk around the area for a while until we reach Hôtel de Ville where I call Marc who's now in the area with Mathias. We're checking email and calling Laurent (Heidi's old roomate rom when she lived in Paris) when Marc & Matthias show up on matching scooters so again, we get everyone acquianted and do a little more walking around. Around 7pm we decide to get ready and jump on the metro to Place de la Republique but, as it usually goes with a crowd bigger than three, things just always end up taking longer and we don't make it there until after 9, By then the place is packed, there's a 20 minute wait.. and we're starving. Rodrigo and Peter are also here now along with their friend Agathe, who lives in Paris and who Peter is staying with. We start looking for a new place and eventually end up on the other side of the plaza at an Italian restaurant named Renato. We're now getting everyone mingling and telling stories of old days when Laurent and his girlfriend Sabine show up. So around 11:00 we're trying to figure out where to go and Laurent suggests the Pop In, a bar he and his friends frequent quite a bit. Marc and Matthias part ways (the kid is eight years old, afterall), as does Rodrigo since he's staying with a friend who lives pretty far out of town. Laurent offers Sara a ride in her scooter so Sabine, Peter, Anne and mysel hop in Agathe's car and we're off to the Pop In. So this bar gives the sense that is really small because it's totally packed and with a large crowd hanging out outside and partly on the street. We meet a few of Laurent's friends and head inside for a drink. Anne and I are totally in the mood for a caipirinha and we find that they have some so we order them and get a beer for Peter. The thing about Caipirinhas is that they are usually made with fresh lime juice and I totally kill the bartender's flow with my order since he literally slices a couple of limes, thrown the pieces in the cups, presses (? can't think o the correct term for this) them and then pours the sugar and alcohol (called something like cachaca.. will check on this) and these things are strong as nuts. We then decide to head upstairs where there's a room with some more tables and a hallway connecting it to another room and another stairwell going down to the dancefloor which was really smoky and seemed to have no windows. The interesting thing about this place is that it is so Gainesville-like, in the style of the old Full Cirlce - and that's what the crowd was like too. And the music was a mix of some punk, 80's (depeche, kraftwerk) and breakbeat. So, it's cool and all, but we're not so much into being at a place that resembles something from back home so we toy around with the idea of checking out the bars around Bastille (we're just a few blocks away) but Laurent says they're all crap (well, he said Favela was crap too). We also mentioned Batofar, and he said it was crap. Anyways, in the end we ended up getting a ride with Agathe and Peter who dropped us off near the hotel (Bastille is about a 30-minute walk so the ride was welcomed). We agree on meeting up on Saturday and checking out the catacombs plus some of the events from the day's festivities and with that we called it a night.
Friday, June 20th, 2003
11:11 am	Je suis arrivé! Ok, I'll backtrack a little before getting to the landing part. We left for Tampa on Wednesday morning at around 9am after a sort-of going-away get-together at Vibe -they are trying to bring back their old Monday night thing as a new Tuesday gig called Ultra Lounge with the tintilating sounds of Dr. Um. Let's just say that $5 flavored martinis the night before a two-hour drive for an overnight flight is not necessarily something most people look forward to but, like I always say: it always makes for a better story when you make things a little more challenging. So it was a very cool last night out with the gang and, since it was the first night of UL combined with the fact that it's still Summer A semester, it ended up being a nice and chil evening with the Vibe crew. Well, considering we brought in around eight people who were not shy of downing their share of drinks, Tom and co. were probably pretty happy with us. I also left with hopes of more UL nights once I get back - something that is never certain for non-mainstream type things in a college town during the summer. For the record, Tom kicks ass at making Martinis - he needs to get the other bartenders to learn from his mojoness. Anyways, Wednesday morning was a little rough - go figure. We were to meet up with Steve who was not only kind enough to store my vehicle while I was gone but also house Sara for the night since her flight wasn't until Thursday. After a bit of an adventure figuring the way from the airport to Steve's so that Sara could get back after dropping me off, I was at my gate 25 minutes before departure only to find out the flight was delayed due to bad weather (it's always disconcerting when lightning strikes all around you as you're pulling up to the departure terminal.. I guess I should not have been playing the Perfect Storm soundtrack right then. Ah well). The first leg was with Song, Delta's new low-price carrier. I had read some good things about what they were supposed to provide in order to compete with the likes of Southwest, et al. but about the only things I noticed were that you pay for the meal on the flight and the attendants have a very quircky sense of humor. Seriously it was stuf like: "we just heard that there are another 100 bags we need to load so at this time we'll start taking volunteers to help out our loading crew". And it just didn't stop but, hey, it definitely lightened up the mood considering we left an hour late. I arrived at JFK where they mentioned my Paris flight was out gate 14. We were at gate 24 so you'd think this is probably somewhat close but no, it was actually quite a hike which I wouldn't have minded except I had less than an hour before departure and, as it turned out, it was the WRONG gate. I was actually supposed to head to gate 11 *in a completely different terminal*. So the woman at the gate gets on the radio and calls for a van to come get me which, after twenty minutes of waiting, makes me wonder just how far the other terminal and whether I should have just walked. Well, it was deinitely not the A-Team, but the van showed up and the terminal ended up not being really close. It probably would'nt have been so bad had I not strolled ten gates *in the wrong direction* just 30 minutes before. Again, all this worrying for nothing as the second flight was delayed as well. I make some calls, chill out, and we head out about an hour after our scheduled time. At this point I was just not even trying to be upset about the whole thing because there was really no point . Beside, this was an international operated by Air France and, as usual, their flight attendants are nothing short of being insanely attractive and mine was just that.. times our. Good grief. I really tried to sleep most of the way since Thursday would be a busy day in Paris but I did stay up to watch Chicago since I hadn't seen it. I must say, it was a totally diferent movie than I was expecting. I mean, I'd heard it was good, but I had no idea of how the story was told and found it quite amusing and enjoyable. I dwelled between it and Frida but I'm glad I chose Chicago just because, although I still want to see it, Frida seems more of a sad story and I didn't need a downer to counteract the effects of the ridiculously beautiful attendant walking down the aisle. I'll say it again: Good grief! I arrived at Charles de Gaulle at 8:10am, got my bag and found my way to the train terminal. 7.70€ later I'm bound for Châtelet-Les Halles which is about a block away from my hotel. It was almost 11am and, unfortunately, check-in time is not until 3:00 but they were nice enough to hold my bags while I went out to gather data for the upcoming days. In the agenda: determine the ideal events to attend on the 21st to celebrate La Fête de la Musique, find a hotel room for three of us near these events, get myself a phone card, walk around to refamiliarize myself with the area (I stayed at the same hotel last summer), confirm that the place(s) I chose to meet up with Anne are still there, contact Marc, Rodrigo, Anne, mom & dad, and grab some lunch before checking in. Funny enough, just like that past two times I've been here, I've got asked for directions today. I actually got asked *twice* AND I two girls from greenpeace were trying to get me to become a member. I was just too tired to deal with it. Everything went pretty smoothly except for the finding different hotels as everything seems pretty expensive (well, we are in district 4 which is pretty much much in the heart of the city). So I check in and talk with Samir who's now working the desk and he tells me that a room with a double and a single just opened up and we can take it for Friday and Saturday. How freaking cool is that? So, feeling better about things, I head up and crash with the alarm set for an hour and a half later - don't want to make the jet lag worse, right? Well, it was a hard fought battle when the alarm went off.. My body was just not cooperating and we struggled a good fifteen minutes until I finally peelled myself off the bed. So, I headed for the comunal shower -- that's right, the room I took for the night does not have a shower, but hey, it's 46€, the people are really cool and they keep it clean and since I'm alone, I don't really care (I can already hear some of you cringing - yeah, you know I know who you are). Next mission: find a wi-fi point and determine if my plan for connectivity with back home via the tungsten works. So, as I had mentioned on digressed a little while back, Paris is experimenting with making all their metro and bus systems Wi-Fi capable and they're currently testing it for free until the end of the month. So, who am I not to partake as a beta tester, right? I had jotted down which stations were already enabled and headed for Châtelet-Les Halles but couldn't get the palm to discover the access point. So I walked a few blocks over to Hôtel de Ville, which has a big open plaza in front that already had a tent set up for the upcoming festivities. Here I hit the jackpot: discovered, connected and tried out a bunch of things to check out speed & reliability. I was able to ssh to my box at home, tried to find Calvin on the webcam (he wasn't there), checked mail, and looked up a few more things on maporama. I had 2/4 bars where I was sitting and it was doing its job. I took some pictures around the place and started looking for a place to have dinner. I was still pretty tired from the trip and earlier excursion so I figured I'd take it easy tonight since I have to meet Sara at the airport at 7:30am on Friday (*sigh*). So I was in the mood for a good Salad Niçoise and found a cafe around the corner from the hotel that had just that plus they were broadcasting the US vs. Turkey soccer match from what I think is the Continental Cup? Regardless, how am I going to turn down a Niçoise packed with tuna, anchovies and olives and a soccer match? I sat down as the first half was ending tied 1-1. About 20 minutes into the selcond half, Turkey went up thanks to a gorgeous goal and that got the guy sitting in the table next to me and I talking. Mind you, I've barely spoken a work of English since I've been here. Once again, that whole myth about the French being rude seems to be a load of crap. It's not like I don't look American - that's the first assumption they make, that's for sure. And it's not like I'm not butchering their language whenever I try communicating with them. Still, from the woman at the counter in the train station to the people at the hotel, the woman who sold me the phone card, the waiter at the cafe, etc., everyone's been totally cool. Not saying there's no chance I'll ever run into someone having a bad day - I'm just saying this is my third time in Paris and so far the count of bad experiences is 0. Anyways, Allain and I get talking - he's actually from Cameroon and doesn't speak a word of English and, sure enough, he asks if I'm American. We talk a bit about Venezuela and soccer in South America and we reminisce (sp?) of a World Cup back in the 80's during which Cameroon had an awesome run - I remember my friends and I talking about their goalie cause the guy was just unbelievable! I then get myself an espresso - which, btw, I think the chance of me running into a rude frenchman is greater than the odds of getting served a bad-tasting cup o espresso while I'm here. Anwyays, I pay, we say goodbye and I head back to the room. So, it's 10:20, the sun is still out and I think I'm going to check out one of the jazz bars on rue des Lombards which was highly recommended by both Jack and Samir and also happends to be just a couple of blocks down. I'll get back to you probably Saturday morning sometime as tomorrow we're planning on getting everyone together for good Paris fun.5
Monday, June 16th, 2003
8:15 pm	Initial log So, this is me just being a dork and testing adding an entry rom the palm via LJ's avantgo client. I finally ran out of time and this was the final option. Hopefully it's going to work out ok. And hopefully my next set of posts will be from Paris. (3 Comments |Comment on this)