Notes From Paris
I found this in an old archive (I used to host a "conference" for an ISP when I was writing for the Star). Memories...4 August 2002
I know I've been remiss in my posting duties, but I think I have a good enough reason...I've been in Paris for almost 6 weeks now. Then again, that fact alone would make you think I have enough fodder for this conference, but then again internet doesn't come cheap in this neck of the woods (1,5 euro for an hour of frantically sending off e-mail on an AZERTY keyboard).
I've always wanted to live in Paris, even for a short while, and by some miracle I'm doing just that. But you have to be careful what you ask for, 'cause you just might get it. After a week of ooh-ing and aah-ing at the sights you suddenly notice the smells (better yet, the stinks) of the City of Lights. Suddenly the Metro loses all its convenient charm; you start watching out for low-flying pigeons that might drop a bomb on your newly shampooed hair, and pray that you don't run into yet another rude Frenchman speaking gibberish and making faces. A meal is easily 500 bucks down the drain (a cheap one at that!), there's no airconditioning, and the blisters on my feet have gone forth and multiplied. I weep for San Mig Light and make do with cheap (but good) French wine; I miss our beaches (Nice and St Tropez were nice, but even Puerto Galera could give them an ass-whipping); I miss the malls and movies and English cable TV.
Then again, the people I've met here (most of whom aren't French) make up for all I long for. I've made friends from all over the planet, because after all misery loves company and we all try to cheer each other up.
I'm a little more comfortable now since classes are over and I'm house sitting for a friend (NB: The Princess himself!) who has cable and a real bathroom and DSL. Plus I get to spend more time with my roommates - two friends from school who are both tall guys capable of changing the fuse that just blew, doing the laundry, and eating my adobo. And the apartment comes with a lovely albino boxer who likes to drag me down the street at 7 a.m. and who keeps hogging the bed. These are the things I'll miss most about Paris, and suddenly I don't regret asking to come live here after all.
posted by Honey Oliveros @ 9:01 PM
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