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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 ...

Littlest Pet Shop Rareset

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.

Leather Lds Scripture Covers

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.