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Glory Parisian tourism. Back to Basics

If there's one thing that I love Paris, it is the tourists. One can be unwelcoming at first, basically our tourists appreciate them. After all, a good portion of our capital is it does not by tourism? Fame Paris is first and foremost these people came elsewhere.

I find it so happened several times, some random wanderings in some quarters, to cross, to meet and to learn. I propose you paint a few strokes, the few specimens that I was led to discover. Any generalization is of course negative, and I do not pretend to describe here, with perfect accuracy the character of our beloved tourists ^ ^.

Let's begin our tour of the world for tourists by a tourist very well known to you: The French tourist.

One might think that the French tourist is quite difficult to spot in a French town, but it is quite otherwise. Indeed, the French tourist usually presents as a family.

There is first the father, always carry a map of Paris, a backpack, and hyper active seeking only the quantitative side of hits. He wants to do all the museums, the monuments, all the peculiarities of Paris despite the appreciation.

Then the mother who aspires only one thing to look like Paris. Only the purchase of a Parisian handbag is able to satisfy it. She appreciates nevertheless often museums like the Louvre and Orsay. Then

children. Typically a girl and a boy. The children did nothing special, just a feeling of profound boredom.

must still note that all tourists, the tourist French is often the most unpleasant, less polished and less interested in the final paris.

After talking in terms of unflattering French tourist, talking about his worst enemy: English. Or rather English.

was one morning around 8:30 at my school. I was going to return to the institution when two English than fifty years interest me. They sought a conference center which was completely unknown and moreover not in the borough. So somehow, armed with great patience, and also I must say, I tried to learn with the least possible approximation. But talk of a conference center which is at the other end of Paris and no one suspected, and all this in an English level equivalent to approximately an Uzbek monkey, I have doubts their could be very useful.

Nevertheless, I welcome the great patience and kindness of these English ladies, and generally recognize their kindness to English tourists.

Remain Worldwide English speaking Americans, or once again, instead of American.

Several times I happened to encounter in a bar ^ ^, groups of tame U.S.. Singing, funny and very interested in the customs and French specialties, they are a real boon for the French food industry.

Contrary to what one might think, Americans so do not storm the McDonalds and company. Not like they rather dwell in bars and French bistros. Remarkably, Americans are probably more motivated to imbibe and live like Parisians and French.

Finally, I'll finish this first list is not exhaustive on the Italians.

I met my first Italian to Eve of 2007, returning home in the tram moogle leading me to the Porte de Versailles.

A couple of Italian than thirty years. Very chic, very classy. Speaking a perfectly acceptable French accent singing with the South, I quickly befriended them. We must admit that the Italian had a lot of charm which facilitates quick contacts: D.

So the Porte de Versailles, they wanted to go to the star to celebrate the New Year. And I do not know what a bad accident, a taxi had advised them to take line 12 to concord, and then Line1. Fortunately, as a good Samaritan I am, I would have saved five subway stations, and they've mostly been enjoying an incredible view over a sparkling Eiffel Tower, rather than gloomy corridors underground. In fact most were very simple course to take line 8 to Balard and change to the mound to take the pole 6, airline.

Finally I went with him to the subway, we talked a little about everything and nothing, and those Italians me a little more comfortable with the idea that Italian tourists are really nice people, always very elegant and very interested in our wonderful museums ^ ^.

I could still talk about Chinese cars, tourists from Latin America, or even African diplomats at the first of UNESCO, but it will not happen. Maybe another time if the heart tells me.

Thereupon strongly Swedish ...

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As I began drafting this post, I quickly realized once again that it was really a headache to write. My chronic dissatisfaction doing, so I decided to take one of my first ideas brought on this blog: write telegram ^ ^.

December 27. Back to Paris. A train, a book, an empty compartment: a celebration. Tranquility. Serenity. Rustic landscape. Rediscovery.

In fact, I'll stop there. It's almost as difficult to write well, being constantly in search of adequate vocabulary. Finally comes the inspiration may be in writing.

Bon clear, I rediscovered the train yesterday.

Finishes TGV filled with kids running around. Gone are the old people who talk constantly asking super strong if they are in the right compartment. Finished the little room in square 4 in first class seats because of too large (Snob me? Not at all ^ ^). No more incessant comings and goings to the bar car.

I loudly claimed:

Live Corals regional trains.

Alala what a feeling of freedom and well being they can confer. You know these trains leather seats, looking old and that activates the outdated station to replace. Well they are the ones that give you this impression that the train is a relaxing, calm, calming. Is there anything more charming than reading quietly, one ear listening to Pink Floyd, and one cradled by the rumble of the train. An eye on the book, another on the field.

SNCF hammering mediatically that now the TGV is a source of rest is misguided. The TGV is finally only an extension of our life in Paris.

The many times I say take the train for me is like taking the subway, that make up Paris-Marseille I returned to Chatelet-Trocadero, I do not say so. People are more stressed they take the TGV, as in the subway.

Even the train stations are similar in endless warehouses of humans in the image of the square place des Halles. It is impossible to take his time with the TGV. As much as I do not mind being squeezed and stressed to Paris, but I refuse to campaign.

Now I will not stop in the station of Nogent Rotrou Surdon, Alencon, Fern and other stations indignant host the TGV.

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There are days ...

I do not know you I grazes

There on the dock shoulder against shoulder

We take the same time an eye on

The back covers

Delerm would it visionary ?

Fnac Montparnasse, December 7. foggy. Rain and cold. And a ray of sunshine. Or rather, a petite brunette. Twenty years, a long black coat and three books by hand. An apparition? A dream? Not a law student. At least I imagine the sight of the Penal Code lodged under his arm.

Unable to satisfy myself with this lovely austerity, I began to discover her other two "precious". In this case I mean the books, although the mantle and twenty years were equally tempting.

She was right in front of the letters "B" of radius "Roman French." For having spent much time in my hours beigbédiennes, is therefore with great assurance that I myself approach by chance while grabbing a book Bernanos: Under the Sun of Satan . What a genius I'm carefree! No sooner had I entered the book I heard a voice soft and sweet, my unknown approve this choice to a few centimeters away.

It would be very difficult to recite his argument to the extent that I was literally overwhelmed and amazed by his tone of voice of a celestial harmony, but it seemed to me that in addition its charm, it was grown. (Or maybe it was just a plagiarist of the last inventory before winding of Beigbeder, in which case we would have had at least one common point.)

Taking my spirits somewhat, j 'nevertheless ventured a semblance of conversation. I can not explain it, but I was in a trance intellectual passion. Ok I enlarged a bit far from my thoughts, but the idea is there. But like all good things come to an end, fate made sure to get Igor on my way. Igor: square jaws, 1m88, 95kg and a girlfriend brunette big black coat. There are phrases in life that one never forgets. For me it will be " Here we go, I have to go buy socks." The fall was terrible. And so she went back escorted by his mastiff blonde in the maze of my mind.

Who knows about a misunderstanding that could have worked.

And to think I ended up buying the book. There are days like this where you feel con.

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Story of an alcoholic layabout. Angel

"I write this time again within the scope of alcohol. However, this time I decided not to use the spell checker. In starting to write this, I told myself that going to be a simple AC running and not gag, but the message. But the desire to write good having triumphed over reason, I am here again to write, or rather tapping on a keyboard. Because yes, it's pretty nice to see so many post here and there by bloggers post their writings recounting blog. But this is not a great relevance because they concretely do not write, but at most two pat three keys. Writing it is then in full decadence, leaving the strumming?

Well all that to say that Alan Parsons Project's pretty enjoyable at this hour and Angel (see below), and now it was Jethro Tull.

What would I say? I do not know. Finally what is reflective of chronic memory loss occasioned by alcohol. It is true that under all plans, alcohol is bad. But what you want, alcohol is a vice, and looks like the Sex Pistols, being an anarchist, I must say that alcohol is good. If you look closely, you will see many pleonasms in these few lines, but also a contradiction. Indeed with a side Rebel Rebel (David Bowie dixit), I was never really an anarchist. And yet how often board I could remake the world by similar evenings at .. bar. It is also quite impressive and dramatic to see how alcohol can also cause us to lose all notions of reason and principles. I write without even paying attention to the consistency of my statements and without any fear and without doubt. Ah takes to please Nerak, Winamp Indochina me out with this beautiful song that is: I asked the moon. It although one of their few songs that I enjoy with your black eyes? You certainly have nothing to do but what I décuvé as I can: D.

And! And then I turn to our literature that are approved Camille and Anna, do not you think I'm almost less spelling errors than sober drunk: D?

This being done, let's talk about a novel that is dear to my heart: The Three Musketeers.

No actually, I will not go. Not only because I have the courage, but mostly because if I spoke at that moment, I would only distort this wonderful historical novel, epic, exciting, perfectly reflecting, at least I may believe, the morals of a load time of gentlemen and gentlewomen haunting my deepest thoughts? How many times n'ais I never dreamed you and I also persuaded, to be D'Artagnan.

is true where is this society where the super hero named Zorro and D'Artagnan or not Superman or Spider-man is genetically modified by men of science. Nowadays, science has replaced human genius. Humanism is more, we rely on science. It is true that science is an act of man, but the human spirit embodied by D'Artagnan and his cronies, or even more recently Arsene Lupin, most closely reflects human action, without tools, without deceit, without artifice. The man has no need to replace technical prowess to succeed, its nature permits.

All that to say that alcohol makes crazy and insane, but I very well racked. At least I think so. I'm really going to eventually make this blog a place for my thoughts of Alcoholism: s.

Good night all.

PS: To enjoy currency, I do not use the spell once: D. Finally no more than 3 times at most: D. "

Paris, 25/11/2007 at 2:14 am

I could leave this message as is. Do not comment on the above by what follows. But not just a hobby, but also from interest, it occurred to me interesting to try to analyze a little about my alcoholism. Indeed, I always had the impression that the human being was as sincere as ever under the influence of alcohol. I may be misguided, but the Parisian society being what it is, false and superficial, it has always confirm my statements. And yes sometimes I also criticize the Paris ^ ^. On this

analyze!

Already, just the shape. This message is like a big mass of words, deformed, without consistency, without any stylistic clarity. I made no effort to show, and my line breaks seem nonexistent. Of Obviously, my statement should not worry about aesthetics. Here openly accuse my state because I'm quite capable of looking at such issues. We'll skip the spelling, it speaks for itself.

On the bottom now. The first two sentences are entirely a reflection of my confusion. I do not know where to start or how to begin. I'm getting mixed up, I repeat, and eventually get tired. The idea to use concealer, which of course lead to some reflection and hence an effort seems futile. It therefore goes without saying that even unconsciously layabout my side emerges.

then I can link with an attempt to comic effect and reflection without interest.

" But this is not a great relevance because they concretely do not write, but pat at most two or three buttons. I probably wanted to demonstrate finesse and wit here ...

"The writing is it then in full decadence, leaving the strumming? I am sure you thought about making an essay when I am writing this.

My "thinking" then stops abruptly, giving way to showcase my musical culture. It's true you really think that three little known to the general public and succeed on my playlist? Not like everyone else, they are the Beatles Queen foregoing that anticipate the Stones themselves. And still found the desire to strut which is mine. (Besides these three groups are awesome: D).

"What would I say? I do not know. Finally what is reflective of chronic memory loss occasioned by alcohol. » Ah enfin une vérité et un semblant de pertinence, mais qui laisse rapidement place à des absurdités placées une fois encore sous ma culture musicale. Although a rebellious side, I am not an anarchist so far away from it. Finally found here that the verbiage without interest, if not me devat.

Then an apostrophe. Why now and why to them? I have no idea, but it is in keeping with the evocation of Karen, presumably to give me the illusion of an audience and not wander into the void. Loneliness has never been my forte.

"No actually, I will not go. Not only because I have the courage, but mostly because if I told this moment, I would only distort this wonderful historical novel, epic, exciting, perfectly reflecting, at least I dare believe the manners of an era armful of gentlemen and noble ladies haunting my deepest thoughts? How many times n'ais I never dreamed you and I also persuaded, to be D'Artagnan. "

sincerely Confessing my laziness as a first step, I launched into a soaring yet rave praising the work. One might think then that I attach more importance to my opinions and feelings to my laziness and my reason. Finally, a bit like our young Gascon his arrival in Paris, full of passion and desire.

"It's true what happened to this society where the super hero named Zorro and D'Artagnan or not Superman or Spider-man is genetically modified by men of science. Nowadays, science has replaced the human genius. Humanism is In addition, we rely on science. It is true that science is an act of man, but the human spirit embodied by D'Artagnan and his cronies, or even more recently Arsene Lupin, most closely reflects human action, without tools, without deceit, without artifice. The man has no need to replace technical prowess to succeed, its nature permits. "

If you look closer, it is not totally devoid of meaning what I say here. Damn! I should have shown it earlier in my French teacher. Just yesterday he told us that legendary heroes had disappeared. It's not true!

"All that to say that alcohol makes crazy and insane, but I very well racked. At least I think so. I'm really going to eventually make this blog a place of my thoughts of Alcoholism: s. "

Finally, I should rename this blog: Memories of an alcoholic layabout.

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I'm not used to it, but I'll do a post stroke heart. Blow of heart on a French rock band of the 70s. Very little known nowadays, yet it was one of the most known at the time the image of their six gold records and more than 3 million albums sold (thank you Wikipedia: D). Progressive rock it nonetheless poetry and drama.

Actually I especially wanted to make the introductory words of the song Hymn to life at a concert. Word to the door a little fuzzy for me, but I hope you'll give me an explanation for these words: D. Just to put in context, he introduced the last song of the concert. The hymn being cut three times: The Song, The Procession and Hymn. Scary: D no?

is the end of the chapter, we are near to die,

Think about it!

We're here for,

Think about it!

But what joy when the bottom of your eyes running some honey

Who is that when we do not think so.

Think is a mood that leaves us only the animal.

And we're all dying near

front of the biggest and best squad,

I named the sun and stars.

A major sunburn and great shot of stars,

We can die and sing a hymn to life.

Well I grant you they were all completely shouts it's going to be xD.

Unable to leave you on your end, and could not find a hymn to life on radioblog, I give you all the same link for the curious, another song L Ode to Emile .

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Because wisdom is nothing without the madness

I could have a long and fractious plaintive message. It will not happen. But much deeper thinkers than I have been able speak more simply and synthetically. So here some quotes to ponder.

far the worst folly to be wise in wanting a crazy world. Erasmus

Mind the wisdom a touch of madness, it is good sometimes to forget wisdom. Horace

But do we know what the wise and what are the fools in this life where reason should often be called madness and folly called genius? Maupassant

Madness is peculiar to man. Cendrars

True wisdom is to not seem wise. Aeschylus

Wisdom has its excesses and has no less need of moderation that madness. Montaigne

Wisdom is to be mad when the circumstances are worth it. Cocteau

O the craziest of all men, you who aspire to wisdom! Erasmus

Everyone thinks because it is solely responsible for the wisdom or folly of his life, that is to say of his destiny. Plato

This is a message that unfortunately will never intended destination. Whatever ...

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Story Alcoholic

This is my first message written in a true state of advanced BAC. Finally, at least. This message not going probably mean nothing, but I formally undertake to publish it yet because my drinking casually is also a facet of myself. I do not know exactly what I'll be able to tell, and I'll read soon enough tomorrow, but it is extremely sympathetic to write in such a state. It's crazy how easily the words come. No-brainer to see if what we write is a consistency Orwellian or not, but at least I never managed to write with such clarity.

All for what? I do not really know. I have no message to convey special, let alone any claim of claims. Although? And what if I showed no desire to be free. Free c'écrire what we want, without being attacked by bad language or criticizing the spelling not my meaning.

I can not myself criticize what kind of person. Why? Thougt you really think I am in my Lord answer you in now? Sangria having an adverse effect on me: s Ohh a pink marker. It's beautiful is not it? Note unprecedented in the history of blogging. Normal person has written an "article" drunk. Article to be published in full since morning I have no access since interning this PC. What I'm barge. Casually I have some conscience tells me I should not publish such a monster. Yet many of you were there already in this state, and logic that we must unravel the mystery of alcohol on the editorial post once and for all.

Would really have the courage to publish such an atrocity? I really believe that can even sober.

After making a bank if asked by currency, I am however in need of going to bed. So I leave the spell checker finish the job and swear again that I would publish that writing good morning ^ ^.

Good night all.

PS: That 10 minutes after writing this. I launched Winamp avce Patrick For fun, and I tried with some success, rather, to work a little on my TYPE: D. Ok good work on magnetic levitation at 1:38 in the morning is not necessarily a good thing, but casually I feel very well understand the subject, and sucroit, provide a far more work than naturally. Is it simply to Patrick or to alcohol, rather j'opteriais for the second solution. The fact remains that I puff actually for once: D. To believe that I must work to be absolutely stuffed xD. I do not know what I write so I returned to my TYPE: p.