Thursday, April 11, 2013

France

The following story should not be taken as an excuse to walk around a huge city at night and hope something amazing happens.  Although the story may seem cool and adventerous I assure you there were many times during it I realized that this was a bad idea.  Please refrain from jumping so headlong into stupid tasks and use your brain when it comes to traveling.  I have seen Taken one too many times and I know what happens to travelers in Paris.  Plus last time I checked, neither of my parents are Liam Neeson.  So like I said before, read the story but realize mistakes were made.  If it inspires you then so be it but do not try to re-create the event.

Paris.  The City of Lights.  Since I was only spending three nights in Paris before heading to Amsterdam I had to plan a whirlwind schedual to see everything this city has to offer.  On the day I arrived although exhausted I told myself I needed to go out and take night photos of Paris (none of which I liked and my battery died about halfway through and I left my spares in the hostel).  Plus the pictures were all run of the mill, cut and dry, seen it already, pictures.  If you want to see the pictures I took of Paris at night, look up Night Photos of Paris and that is what they look like.  Anyway Paris is known for being very beautiful at night so I headed out to capture what I can.  Here is what I found.  Warning: The following might burst your little bubble of a perfect,romantic Paris.   

As I walk to the Metro station, about three blocks away, I am constantly hounded by prostitutes.  In the day time you would have never of thought this particular street to be so bad.  It looks much like any street in Paris with six or seven story grey or dirty yellow buildings lining the streets.  A cafe sits alone at the corner that I am sure serves delicious french food.  The Eiffle Tower's pressence is always felt as it dominates the skyline.  But back to the hookers.  The sterotypical push-up bra, short skirt, too much make-up, more than a few missing teeth, and towering high-heels complete the look of your everyday street corner worker.  I have the misfortune of having to walk right through to them.  Aside from the seductive arm touches and cattle calls no harm comes to me.  Acctually for obvious reasons they are overly friendly.  I make it to the Metro and board the train headed for the Lourve to get some night shots.  As I step onto the Metro I realize I am the only non-gypsy on the train.  I flash back to Indonesia and reach for my knife.  It is not there.  Of course.  Stay calm.  None of them want to hurt you.  Right? 

Indeed once again no harm comes to me.  Aside from the extra crazy one standing next to me crying and smashing his head against the wall the trip was quite uneventful.  Such things that would be shocking in Jackson I have become quite numb to.  I exit the station and make the quick walk to the Lourve.  Expecting there to be a lot of people in and around the plaza I thought that the interesting part of the trip was behind me.  But as I walk through the passage way to get to the plaza I realize I am the only person here.  Wait, wait, wait, where is everyone?  Is there some event going on that I have forgotten about again?  I glance down at my watch.  Oh, that explains it.

In yet another mistake I never looked to see what time it was when I left.  My watch reads 12:30 at night.  Not wanting to miss the last train at 1:00am I promptly turn around and start to head back to the train station.  As I begin my walk back through the passage way out of the Lourve plaza I see a man.  He is climbing down from off the railing very quickly.  He then leaps and grabs onto a small ledge.  Hanging from his fingers he shimmys around the ledge and finally leaps off and lands in a roll at my feet.  Immedeatly taken back by this mans aggresive parkour advance I stop in my tracks.  He looks at my quickly and pulls up a bandana around his face.  Completly on edge I start to analyze my situation and look for a way to run.  My mind works on overdrive as adrenaline surges through my system.  A thousand thoughts race through my mind in the blink of an eye.  Seconds turn into hours as I begin to panic.  How to fight him off if need be and possible escape routes.  Buildings that have lights on that I could run into for help, anything.  In my frantic look around I see there are some things laying at the man's feet.  Upon closer inspection I see what looks like a load of small squares and a caulk gun?  Surely that is not right.  Why on earth would he have these wierd things.  I glance up on the wall where the man so expertly jumped from and see a small piece of art.

An old-school 8-bit video game character about a foot and a half tall is on the wall.  As if I had been punched in the face a sudden epiphany hits me hard.  In a brilliant Slumdog Millionaire moment I flash back to a documentary I had seen maybe two years ago.  Although the movie Exit Through The Gift Shop is mainly focused around the british street artist and rebel Banksy, it does mention others as well such as Shepard Fairey, the man behind the OBEY posters.  One of the artists mentioned is an artist the goes by the name of Space Invader.  He was named because he left small 8-bit videogame characters as his signature.  The main video game he uses is characters from the game Space Invaders.  I also recalled that he was indeed French.
"Are you Space Invader?" I ask.
A glint flashes in his eye and under the bandana I can see a smile come across his face.  He looks up at the artwork.  "Just a touch up," he says in a thick French accent.  I look up at the piece.  Not a signature Space Invader but it is however a man in what looks to be a form of armor or something of the like on the wall.  No doubt from some retro unknown video game.  When I look back at him I catch a glimpse of him sprinting away into the night.  I gather myself and make the train back.  Aside from more pleads for sex from the hookers, nothing happens and I get back to the hostel all safe.

  I go to the Lourve the next day to see the art in it but I make sure to see the street art.  Who knows how long it will be there.  I'm sure such a prestigious institution as the Lourve does not want "grafitti" on its lovely palace.  But who knows I'm just glad I got to see it at all.

Again mistakes were made and this does not mean anyone can wander around Paris late late at night with no protection and alone and they too will have an adventure.  It was dumb to go alone and I got lucky.  Very lucky.


   

Well that is it from Paris.  Yeah I saw the art and the monuments but that was about all I had time for.  Next stop will be Amsterdam.  The post will becoming faster and faster as my trip winds down.  Thanks for all the support guys!!!

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