Plot Twist:Paris

When I originally booked my hotel room back in March I accidentally booked two rooms at the same hotel. I contacted the hotel and tried to cancel one. I came to find out today that I had canceled both. So I hopped on their free wifi and booked another one. I’m having to pay three times as much but my room is much nicer so there is that. And my room is closer to Gare du Nord which is where I need to be tomorrow morning.

The picture is just a random Paris street. In an attempt to kill three birds with one stone (save money, train for the Camino, and explore Paris) I walked from my former hotel to my current one. It should have taken me 45 minutes. I think it took around two hours. My feet hurt, my back hurts, my legs hurt… I’m going to die on this walk.

Paris is an interesting city. It reminds me of Cairo. It has the same “traffic laws are merely suggestions” vibe Cairo does. Unlike Cairo they do have traffic signals, but pedestrians are like “I unclog my nose at your so-called …traffic signal….” I adopted the same strategy I did in Cairo. I find a Parisian that’s doing what I want to do and follow them. Figure if it doesn’t work, they’ll get hit first.

Dirty, like Cairo. And full of Muslims. Especially Montmartre, where I am. As I passed beggar after beggar, all clearly Middle Eastern, after I passed so many shops and restaurants that were Cairo, not Paris, I began to understand some of the pushback of which I’ve read. Paris is overwhelmed. I am sure Paris Social Services is overwhelmed. Someone more versed in middle eastern cultures than I could tell where most were from. I could not. I have a guess that a significant number are from Algeria, since I saw shirts for the Algerian soccer team displayed in a shop.

I didn’t take a picture of the shirts, but I did take a picture of some fabrics like I would see in Saudi. The Saudi fabrics were even more elaborate, and twisted into the shapes of the gowns they might become, but I took a picture as proof that it’s not totally like I’m in Paris.

I am sure Parisians, and possibly all French people, feel their culture is disappearing. Frankly, as I walked the streets, and looked at the culture represented, I would agree with them. Those of you that know me know I am not racist. I’m not condemning those who have chosen to come here, nor am I condemning them for keeping their own culture. I’m just saying that I understand how some people could look around and say, “All these people need to go home.” I read once, somewhere, that ignoring the problems of Africa, as the Western world has done, was a bill that would be very costly when it came due. I think Europe is beginning to pay for it now.

And speaking of costly, I’ve just discovered a costly mistake. I didn’t check my itinerary before I booked the new hotel. I was sure I knew the train station from which I was leaving. The train I need to catch at 7:52 in the morning, getting there 20 minutes early of course, is quite literally on the other side of Paris.

The spoon is where I am. The lipgloss is where I need to be. I’m going to talk to the concierge about a taxi in the morning. (Sigh.) You’d think someone my age would give up making assumptions…Oh well. It can’t be helped now. I have to believe that there was a reason for this. And that it’s not just because I’m stupid.

I know you’re supposed to push through jet lag and stay up, but I was running 24 hours on three hours sleep, so I checked into my hotel and took a nap. I’m about to emerge and find some dinner. And my boyfriend Fred tells me that it is not to be McDonald’s.