While sitting atop a small hillock outside the Dali museum and gazing far out at a city that seemed to be in love with itself I knew I would one day write about the inherent narcissism of Paris. In one of those astute moments of self realization, I even knew what I would write. I had it all figured out but the charm of the city is only seconded by the volatility of its soul which vaporises the moment you leave the place.
Alright! I will be honest with you. All the fancy crap you
read above is a lie. I am doing this to appease a friend who I owe the
maintenance of a soiled leather jacket. Let’s call this friend Avinash and let’s
call this leather firm ‘Theo&Ash’. In case you are wondering they run a
wonderful organization with one objective: Selling leather jackets in one of
the hottest markets- India. When I say hottest I mean literally. Let us take a
moment to wish them all the best. They are doing a great job. Till date they
have sold 465 leather jackets.. which is 5 more than the bosses who have fucked
me (this time - not literally).
While we are establishing facts, let me clarify a few. I did
travel to Paris. Theo&Ash actually exists. Check out their site hereTheo&Ash. They
do repair your leather jackets without charge if you are friends with them. I
do own two of such gems, one of which I did soil on a plane.. Long story.. Some
other time, unless you disregard this post as an attempt to publicise leather.
I love animals. I actually am one of them. I work for a corporate organization.
Paris, for those of you who don’t know (and this includes the
entire illiterate population of NCR) is the capital of France. Apart from the
language French, which evolved as a tongue twister for the British, the city
boasts of Eiffel Tower. It is like Shard went on a full on diet and lost all
carbs….and bones were all that remained. The city hosts a hell lot of tourists
every year. Pretty much more than the population of Iceland. (Wait for more
imaginary adventures in Iceland in the next post). We reached Paris at 5 in the
morning. When I say ‘we’ it was Abhinav, Anuj and Alex (names changed of course
because their real names are pathetic loser types only). Also, Alex although is
a girl’s name in German, we were travelling with a full on mallu who seems like
he ate a heavy Sheikh in breakfast and forgot to digest him, which seems
reasonable given that he could not digest even the preface of ‘Half Girlfriend’.
While we arrived in Paris early morning at the train
station, our hostel bookings were valid from 1 pm in the afternoon. So we did
what any first time tourist in Paris would do. Slept for 2 hours at the train station.
Did I tell you that Gare du nord has a wonderful enclosed (read heated) waiting
room for people who are on budget travel. They have nothing but love for their
tourists, unless you are from England in which case.. ‘Go Fuck yourself you
fries eating, beer mouthed pretentious oaf’… Paris is all about humility and
simplicity. 5 French aristocrats choked on their Boreaux wine after reading the
previous line.
Post awakening (which is also used to describe the 24th
year of Alex’s life when he learnt how to speak to a woman. It was the same
year Abhinav realized he is not one…) we went straight up to the
Louvre(pronounced as loo in French)… This confused Alex because he does not
like going to the loo twice in a span of 1 hour. It will take a normal human
being approximately 2 days to see everything in the museum. It will take 7
lives to appreciate everything to their rightful measure.. There are more
paintings than the emotional baggage Aishwarya Rai carried from her previous
relationship with Vivek Oberoi… But do take a look at Mona Lisa when you are
there.. See what the fuss is all about. If you are tired you can sit down and
appreciate some old paintings and the way light works on them… The realization is
much stronger if you have flown in from Amsterdam…
Then there is the Arch de triumph. It is pretty much like
India gate, except that they charge you 15 euros which is enough to buy Old
Monk to drink through 2nd October… Then there is a Louis Vuitton
store on the same lane.. Specifically placed to mock you.. If you walk in you
will see some people buying stuff… for their girlfriends… 2 min silence for
0.0005% of Zimbabwe’s GDP spent on a brown bag…
Then there is the Eiffel tower which you have to go to..
otherwise no one in India will believe you went to Paris.. We went there twice
because we are pukka 2 times patriotic… One should definitely visit the Notre
dam.. or take a walk along the river if you are feeling slightly adventurous..
If you are feeling snobby and pretentious order 3 bottles of wine. Drink it
slowly like making love to the glass…
But the best part of the stay was the 'Three Ducks Hostel'… It
was started by three dicks who we will not name for the purpose of
convenience.. the hostel name is a typo though… It is not a funny story… The
hostel however is amazing and the bar inside is splendid…You should try the
beer from the tap… If the lady at the bar is happy she might even play a song
for you.. or lend you her lighter…
Don’t go on their underground trains though.. they stink.. Literally... I would call it a cement fiasco...
Take a walk in some cramped streets away from the chaos of
the city and you might just realise why it is called as the most romantic city…
chaos and quiet exist in harmony…....Go on find some love and if you don’t you
always have “Three Ducks.”!!
