Would you like some cheese with your Whine?

So as I begin to wrap things up here in Gay Pari and prepare to set off to see the rest of the world, I feel that it is necessary to collectively look back on my experiences and time spent with all of these lucky tourist and revisit and maybe even discuss the completely biased opinions that I have formed based on my short time spent with them.

Now, as I have discussed before, people from all over the world have come to Paris to see me this Fall. 30 million a year to be exact. But the people that I have learned the most about in the last 3 months were not following me on bikes or segways. These people were the ones that I sat with on the Metro, that I passed on the street everyday, and just attempted to coexist with for the last three months. The French. And it wasn't that easy.

Before I crossed the pond back in August, I made sure to leave any Hollywood based pre-conceived notions that I had formed about the French at home. Without having ever actually interacted with them before and be it that I was moving in with 3 million of them, I felt it was only fair, and in my best interest, to give them a chance to prove me wrong. A fresh start if you will.

After 3 months of trial by fire I cant take it anymore. I have just found that they are just a cold and cranky group of people. I understand that I don't speak their language. I understand that I barrel through their streets and sidewalks with groups of 25 people. These are both faults of mine and I accept that. But they should be glad they have an intriguing history and a bunch of cool shit to look at because its damn sure not their bright smiling faces and superior customer service that make Paris the number one most visited city in the world.

Now THERE's a topic I can elaborate on a bit. Customer Service. There's a particular exchange that goes on between two people when trying to find the correct translation from one language to another. A series of "umm whats the words?" and "how do you says? For “customer service” the conversation would come to an awkward and confusing standstill because the French have no translation. For there is NO SUCH THING AS CUSTOMER SERVICE in France. To start with, the standard workweek in France is 35 hours. On top of this, they all continually strike over what may seem to us like petty work issues. I say they are petty in relation to the big picture here. Striking because the government wants to push back the retirement age 3 years seems a bit silly when in all reality you work what can be considered part time your whole life. Now the French do have a saying that they defend this lifestyle with. They "work to live, not live to work.” Not real sure about this one but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this one is aimed at the good ol’ U.S. of A. I can appreciate this attitude completely but at least pretend to be happy when you do actually choose to go to work. After all its only 35 HOURS A WEEK.

In an American restaurant, a waiter will do all they can to make sure you enjoy your dining experience. Sometimes they can even go a little overboard to where you just want them to go away. This is because in America, waiters have an incentive to provide superior service. These little nuggets of motivation are called tips. When one first visits the city of lights they may notice tips are included in the check. This can be quite deceiving because at first you feel like, "oh, I only pay what's on the bottom there." Well after a few trips to the diner tainted by hopeless empty glasses and bitter waiters, one cannot help but look forward to a day when service matters once again. Its almost as if the customer and salesman have switched positions. Instead of the waiter kissing the customers ass to try and get a good tip, the customer feels like he cant flag the waiter down (because he damn sure isn’t coming to check on you) in fear that he will spit on your baguette. After all, he made his money the minute you walked in the door.

For those of you that know me all too well you can only imagine how frustrating this can be for me. Again, I realize a lot of this can be attributed to my ignorance for not knowing how to speak French. But to be honest the only thing that would change is the way I would handle the situation, not the way they act. Another example. What person in their right mind stops in the middle of the sidewalk to yell at 20 strangers who cant understand them and better yet dont even stop to acknowledge their presence. This happens more than you would think. You can see it coming down the sidewalk. Some French woman looks up to see a few bikes headed her way and instead of just stepping aside, not even off the sidewalk, to let them pass by for a few seconds, she firmly holds her ground, raises whatever it is in her hand, be it cane, umbrella, or baguette and starts yelling. And when I say yelling I am not exaggerating. Literally, it is like a mom fed up with her 8 kids ready to pull her hair out. Yelling. It almost makes me feel sad for them because an outburst like that is likely to ruin the rest of your day. I know once I pass them they aren’t letting that emotion loose for awhile. It’s just so unnecessary.

Maybe this is just because we all live in a place (Texas) where people generally walk around with smiles on their face and only scowl and bitch at people when they deserve it. We say excuse me and sorry even when its probably not necessary and can have genuine conversations with complete stranger. Not in Paris. It’s just a way of life here. Lookin out for number one is the name of the game. Get where you need to go and do what you need to do. Push anyone in your way out of it, don’t stop at the crosswalks, honk at everyone that moves, don’t pass Go, don’t collect $200 and for damn sure don’t even think about stopping to try and help one of the 30 million hopelessly lost souls in your city navigating a map upside down and backwards while trying situate themselves accordingly to Eiffel Tower. Yell at them to get off the sidewalk so that you can rollerblade your way to the park. After all, we all know you’re not going to work.

Bloody Ol' England

Over the last weekend I was invited to go to Liverpool and London with Graham and his parents Joe & Cathy McCall. We would fly to Liverpool, train to London and then train back to Paris. We packed as much stuff as we could into 2 ½ days and did pretty damn good. This would be my second weeekend getaway from Paris during my tenure as a Tour Guide. More importantly it was my second chance to get the travel thing down a little better before Graham and I start our Magical Mystery Tour of Europe in about 2 weeks.

We got to Liverpool on Sunday at about noon and had to go straight to the hotel to drop our stuff off and get to the pubs as soon as we could because kickoff was at 3:00 p.m. Graham had bought a Liverpool jersey here in Paris last month so he had the gear already. I, on the other hand, needed something quickly because if you aren’t sporting their colors you look like an ass from Texas who doesn’t belong at a “Futbol Match”… It appeared that one of the must haves for these clubs is the team scarf so I was in. Easy enough.



Well needless to say the game was amazing. The fans at this thing were awesome as well. As luck would have it, I sat next to a 350 lb. man from the the Bahamas named Steve. Tight squeeze. Throughout the game Steve tried to convince me that not only was he New York all state in basketball in high school (which was hard enough to believe), but that he accomplished the same in soccer. Basketball maybe, but soccer? He might as well have been trying to convince me that he was a horse jockey in his spare time as well. Its one of those things that the French like to say in broken English "is not pozzible".Steve was cool though, and he knew more about the teams than I ever will so that helped. We were sitting next to the visiting teams section, Tottenham, and they didn’t stop singing and chanting the whole time. A lot of this had to do with the fact that they were huge underdogs and held the lead most all of the second half. Considering we had just left Paris the night before where our Horns lost and New Zealand (the team I picked in my bracket to win) lost, we were probably bad luck coming in. Turns out, in the end, Liverpool scored a goal to tie it up at 2-2 with 1 minute left. I will say that if one were just to stumble upon the crowds that gather at these matches, and this might just be in Liverpool, but from looks alone you might confuse the event for a rabid supremacist rally. Over 50% of the men stomping around the stadium were drunk overweight white males with shaved heads relentlessly chanting. The other 50% probably fit any 5 of the 6 characteristics. No real violence to speak of though just threats. Overall the day was pretty exhausting and we were headed to London the next day so we went out and had some Italian and then crashed. Unfortunately, no Abbey Road for us on this trip to Liverpool.




We would get to London the next morning and get started as quick as we could. It was gloomy and overcast, as expected, and so to start it off right we went to an English Pub and had some fish and chips (Beer battered Cod and Fries) for lunch. From here we would go see the houses of Parliament, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, The London Eye, and Downing Street. I will admit that after being a tour guide it was a little frustrating not knowing a damn thing about what I was looking at. Made me appreciate how touristy people are on my tours sometimes. Constantly referencing their Rick Steves guide book clutched tightly under their arm at all times. Taking pictures every time they look up. Not having the slightest clue what they are looking at but still seeming genuinely interested. It made a little more sense now.



On our way down the river bank to get on the London Eye there were these street performers doing different poses. One, pretending to be a statue, was so good that we walked up closer to see if it really was a stature or a person. Just as we got close enough to see a little flesh around his eyes, he quietly lifted his hands up and gave us all the bird.



After dinner that night Graham and I would find our way into this pub that was having a jam night. They just had guys sign up that had brought their instruments to the bar and jam together. It was an old blues bar that Muddy Waters and B.B. King played in back in the day so it was pretty cool. Although the dollar is in the shits compared to the Pound, $2.02, not having to pay $10-$12 for a beer, like we do in Paris, was nice too.



The next day we got up and went to see St. Paul’s Cathedral (the biggest in the world), the Tate Modern Art Museum, Shakespeare’s Globe Theater, and then finished off our London trip in the only appropriate way. High Tea. That’s right, we muddled through the rainy streets of London all day and then went to unwind with Tea Time. The whole nine yards. Scones, Tarts, Tea, and even the little sandwiches with the crust cut off the edges. Real Special.



A few comments…

*The driving on the wrong side of the road thing is bizarre. And dangerous as hell. I always thought it was no big deal and that I would be able to handle it. This was the first time I was exposed to it and I was dead ass wrong. Riding in cabs and sitting shotgun blew my mind. Even walking around on the streets was out of control. They have literally written on all the crosswalks which way to look because odds are you are looking the wrong way and are about to get smoked from someone coming the other way.

*The amount of Starbucks in London is the most ridiculously unnecessary thing I have ever seen. You could literally stand in one place and see 3 different stores. I think there are something like 600 in 2 square miles or less and every one of them was busy at all times.

*Other than that it was everything you see in the movies. Red phone booths, double decker busses, Brits with bad teeth, meat pies and kidney beans and shit. All true.

Paris has been awesome and to be honest I was actually glad to get back once we left but I will say that it was nice to hear a little English for once again. And something about the British accent is hot.

I do want to say how much I appreciate everything Mr. & Mrs. McCall did for me. My London trip would definitely not have been the same without them. The dinners, hotels, and even High Tea were all amazing and seeing the sights with them (Mrs. Cathy with the guide book clutched tightly at all times) was great as well. If for any reason any of you have the chance to spend an evening, or in my case a weekend in Europe, with them; don’t pass it up. Thanks again to the McCalls, Graham included, for the amazing trip. Ill never forget it.

All OU fans are the same....even in Europe

Well as much as I hate to bring it up again, this one is all about the last two, yes TWO, Horns games. To start the year we were having some serious issues with getting the game broadcasted over here. We were in contact with the Paris branch of the Texas Exes and every week we were all trying slingbox, Pay per view, and even streaming it through Texassports and coming up empty every time. Finally, we were able to rent out a bar called The Great Canadian that would connect to a slingbox back in their mainland (Canada) and then let us have one wing of the bar to watch it in. Only $7 dollar beers (on special) and $18 cheeseburgers…what a deal. For the K-State game we had a pretty good crowd, about 15 people, 8 being people from our shop. 5 of us actually went to Texas and we made the others wear whatever gear we had left if they wanted to join the festivities. As tough as it was to watch it was pretty awesome to finally see the Horns play some football, or do whatever the hell they were doing against the Wildcats. This would be just a little taste of what was ahead for all of us during the OU game.



The Saturday of the OU game would also be the day when France would meet New Zealand in the Rugby World Cup Quarterfinals. Now let me give you a quick little rundown on whats goin on with the Rugby over here because odds are the only thing you know is that they play with an oversized football and don’t wear pads. Its all being hosted in France and the finals are all being held here in Paris so the fever is on to say the least. Over the last month or so we have all been giving private tours to these hooligans that come to Paris to support their clubs. England, South Africa, Australia, France, New Zealand, Scotland, Argentina are just a few of the bigger names that have been here. We’ve had ‘em all, kilts and everything. Anyways, New Zealand has been the favorite to win it all since it started. France narrowly escaped an upset in the opening rounds to make it to the quarterfinals but it looked as though their luck would end here as the odds for NZ were better than 2:1 to win it all.

We would get to the bar about an hour and a half before kick off to try and get a seat for the TX/OU game because we knew it would be packed for Rugby. Well we obviously underestimated the French again because they had been there for like 7 hours before kickoff for their Rugby game. Lucky for us, because Rugby is such a non-stop hardass sport, they only play for about 80 minutes. Two 40 minute halves with a running clock and like a 8 minute half. Even though it was packed as could be inside the bar and we only got the Horns on one TV in the corner it was pretty awesome to see the local fans support their team. As dedicated as we all are to our teams in the US, they take it to a whole new level over here. I heard someone describe it as very “tribal” and I think that paints a pretty accurate picture.

Anyways their game would be over by halftime of the Texas game so we would get the rest of the bar for the night. The turnout for the OU game was more like 30-40 people. We even had a few Sooner fans that managed to get out of Norman, across the pond, and find their way into the Canadian. They were annoying and classless as usual but we had all had just enough to drink to have some fun with them. About the time we decided to take a few Jager bombs one of the OU fans, Tom, decided he should really warn me about what I was getting myself into and so he got all his friends to come laugh at me while we took shots. “Oh man, this guy doesn’t know what he’s getting into” & “What an idiot” were just a few of their comments. Well, rather than try to play hard ass and get into some dumb argument about how much I can drink I figured I would just go along with it and see how far I could take them. So at this point I made a deal with Tom. I’ll keep taking Jager bombs ($14) as long as you keep paying for them. He acted like this was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but he went with it. He even would pick up my beers so the rest of my night was pretty much taken care of.


Thanks Tom

The next degenerate from OU was named Bob. Bob was a real ass. Just a stupid drunk that stumbled upon too many Texas fans on the wrong night. Bob was that OU fan that every time you made eye contact with him he would do the Horns down sign with his hand and scream “Boomer!”



After a while there would be a few shouting matches with ol’ Bob. One particular exchange went like so.

OU Bob: Obnoxiously shouting Sooner this and that

Texas Fan: Said something degrading to the BOB about his sexuality.

OU Bob: “I’ve been with more women that you can ever dream of”

Texas Fan: “Your mom and sisters don’t count”

OU Bob: “Yess they dooo!!!”

I know this sounds like one of those stories you get in an email talking about OU fans and stuff, but this really happened. I wish I was making this up. Kind of, but I’m not. Bob was completely content with that fact that the whole night he acted like a 16 year on his first visit to a frat house.

Just a few pictures from the rest of the night..











the rally cap that just couldn't rally

And I saw Kanye West at 3 in the morning on the walk home.