so after midnight the train won't take you back to charles de gaulle. this was one of those imperative details i didn't really want to acknowledge, and it was already 22:00. i received this information from the concierge at a hotel which is very near to the airport. though i trusted her, i wanted to believe otherwise, telling myself i would assume that reality if and likely when i encountered said predicament. this night, i opted to pass on dinner at the hotel's restaurant, growing restless and quite hungry.
it had been two quick days with my family in paris, and we were departing for zurich the following afternoon. i was unsettled with the typical touristic exposure thus far. how can you make a fair assessment of a city like paris with so little time? would going out change this? in my mind, it would, and now in hindsight, it did.
with four destinations all in arrondissement oberkampf, some basic wayfinding, and the paris metro map, i set out in search of a piece of the paris nightlife with a vocabulary consisting of "s'il vous plait" and "merci." after navigating the public transport to republique, i headed down le rue parmentier with tape club and cafe rosso atop my list. the plan for nourishment was a hot dog a-la-new-yorkaise. i hoped to meet someone who might be able to comprehend spanglish and have a couple drinks. the actuality of my feeble communicative skills occurred to me when i asked how to find rue nueve popincourt. this conversation consisted of a question, some uncomfortable facial expressions, and attempting to retain a couple hand gestures. a few steps later, i realized nothing registered.
as stubborn as i can at times be, this was not one of those times; or it was for awhile. eventually, i acquiesced to the challenge of finding either locations (one of which i just noticed was in berlin), knowing that the city of paris is the furthest in planning from an urban grid. instead, i decided to approach this friday night in a completely improvisational manner, head first, tongue last. any crowded establishment fit the bill; i could enjoy a glass of wine and observe the evening playing itself out as a mute minute man. if it manifested into something better, fantastic. if not, surely another viable detour would surface. would i run into an english speaking couple and get advice? would a miraculous series of hand and eye coordinations convey something useful? would i run into audrey tautao and tour the sets of amelie? anything was possible except getting on a train and calling the effort a lost cause.
luckily my camera was along for the journey. though it was bittery cold out, the fact that it was december 25th meant there before me laid a rather still paris. i decided it was bottelon time. i purchased the ingredients from a late night grocery to stir up a meester coke. you can easily guess one of the ingredients; the other being the white rum on hand. here it was the classy rhum blanc. the dettachment from any sort of social faction this fine evening finally dawned its ultimate fate upon me. my lack of direction and fluency (to say the least) translated into a live cocktail and a million photo opportunities, not so bad i thought to myself. certainly there was perpertual concern for how i would fare in a couple hours, but the notion of wandering the rues all night long was too romantic to ignore. i imagined there was two or three others in paris doing the exact same thing.
two'o'clock came, then three'o'clock. it was then my stomach made itself heard. toucan sam style, i followed my nose to a crepe stand, and ordered the first one i saw on the menu, jambon fromage. i made sweet, sweet, virgin love to an ever so tasty crepe, continuing to scour the rues with a childlike wonder. the crepe and ensuing sips of meester coke quenched any remaining doubt of this aimless sojourn into the night.
the receding temperature was the only pickle. this however, became irrelevant then when i turned a corner and spotted the hotel du louvre in the distance. sidetracked by some less cliche photography and a few more failed attemps to converse, i made my way to the hotel. then to the tuilerie gardens and the louvre. to my pleasant surprise the through rues were still accessible. i snapped picture after picture, and traced the entire champs elysees with unsurmounted enthusiasm. as i approached the arc de triomphe, the promenade was filled with christmas decor and the swarm of inebbriated nightcrawlers.
with two hours yet til trains resumed service, the thought of a big warm hotel bed crept into my stream of thoughts. i wouldn't say i was second guessing the foreseeable all-nighter, but i got to that point where i hit a wall. as i continued towards la defense, i started thinking what other night shots i needed to capture before my waning camera battery bit it. i'd already seen the eiffel tower and notre dame. the premise of seeking out a metro with service to the airport and trying to maintain consciousness was nauseating in and of itself.
it was just after this moment that i saw the light. there in a series of parked scooters and bicycles was one that was unlocked. it was one of the 3 speed velib rent-a-bikes, like bicing of barcelona. i was in awe, but thought better of jacking someone's commuter. right across the street was another one on its side. i kept walking. my mood escalated rapidly, the temptation to seize one and take it for a joy ride playing out in my mind like a game of ethical pinball. i made a decision to walk in a loop to inadvertently kill fifteen minutes. i rationalized if the bike was still there, it was mine.
when i returned, the bike on its side was still there, looking sad and lonely. i took a closer look at the bicycle and noticed the seat post skewer head cracked off, and the tires were almost out of air. i felt a warsh of bicycle medicness all of a sudden, and it was as if the thought of not taking it never occurred to me. i surveyed the area, macgyvered a piece of plastic from my meester coke, and tightened the seat post bolt as much as possible, using the cap to apply pressure to the very tiny arm of the skewer that still remained. the seatpost was tight enough and no sooner was i off on a bicycle in paris.
at first i took it slow, wary or my general fatique and semi-sobriety. soon thereafter, i was ripping down cobblestone streets with an incredible surge of adrenaline. it could have been the cold, it may have been the rush associated with taking a velib, but i felt like i was in a dream - think tom cruise in nyc a la vanilla sky - bad reference, but its what i thought of immediately. the feeling on that bicycle was elation in its purest form, escalating even further when a group of parisians would erupt as i rode by with a ring of the bell. i don't know why i had not considered renting one of my own earlier, but the night found me on a bicycle, reassuring me of the beautiful nature of being so whimsical at times.
i will remember christmas '09 as my own tour de france. here is a shot of pei's pyramid binight.
it had been two quick days with my family in paris, and we were departing for zurich the following afternoon. i was unsettled with the typical touristic exposure thus far. how can you make a fair assessment of a city like paris with so little time? would going out change this? in my mind, it would, and now in hindsight, it did.
with four destinations all in arrondissement oberkampf, some basic wayfinding, and the paris metro map, i set out in search of a piece of the paris nightlife with a vocabulary consisting of "s'il vous plait" and "merci." after navigating the public transport to republique, i headed down le rue parmentier with tape club and cafe rosso atop my list. the plan for nourishment was a hot dog a-la-new-yorkaise. i hoped to meet someone who might be able to comprehend spanglish and have a couple drinks. the actuality of my feeble communicative skills occurred to me when i asked how to find rue nueve popincourt. this conversation consisted of a question, some uncomfortable facial expressions, and attempting to retain a couple hand gestures. a few steps later, i realized nothing registered.
as stubborn as i can at times be, this was not one of those times; or it was for awhile. eventually, i acquiesced to the challenge of finding either locations (one of which i just noticed was in berlin), knowing that the city of paris is the furthest in planning from an urban grid. instead, i decided to approach this friday night in a completely improvisational manner, head first, tongue last. any crowded establishment fit the bill; i could enjoy a glass of wine and observe the evening playing itself out as a mute minute man. if it manifested into something better, fantastic. if not, surely another viable detour would surface. would i run into an english speaking couple and get advice? would a miraculous series of hand and eye coordinations convey something useful? would i run into audrey tautao and tour the sets of amelie? anything was possible except getting on a train and calling the effort a lost cause.
luckily my camera was along for the journey. though it was bittery cold out, the fact that it was december 25th meant there before me laid a rather still paris. i decided it was bottelon time. i purchased the ingredients from a late night grocery to stir up a meester coke. you can easily guess one of the ingredients; the other being the white rum on hand. here it was the classy rhum blanc. the dettachment from any sort of social faction this fine evening finally dawned its ultimate fate upon me. my lack of direction and fluency (to say the least) translated into a live cocktail and a million photo opportunities, not so bad i thought to myself. certainly there was perpertual concern for how i would fare in a couple hours, but the notion of wandering the rues all night long was too romantic to ignore. i imagined there was two or three others in paris doing the exact same thing.
two'o'clock came, then three'o'clock. it was then my stomach made itself heard. toucan sam style, i followed my nose to a crepe stand, and ordered the first one i saw on the menu, jambon fromage. i made sweet, sweet, virgin love to an ever so tasty crepe, continuing to scour the rues with a childlike wonder. the crepe and ensuing sips of meester coke quenched any remaining doubt of this aimless sojourn into the night.
the receding temperature was the only pickle. this however, became irrelevant then when i turned a corner and spotted the hotel du louvre in the distance. sidetracked by some less cliche photography and a few more failed attemps to converse, i made my way to the hotel. then to the tuilerie gardens and the louvre. to my pleasant surprise the through rues were still accessible. i snapped picture after picture, and traced the entire champs elysees with unsurmounted enthusiasm. as i approached the arc de triomphe, the promenade was filled with christmas decor and the swarm of inebbriated nightcrawlers.
with two hours yet til trains resumed service, the thought of a big warm hotel bed crept into my stream of thoughts. i wouldn't say i was second guessing the foreseeable all-nighter, but i got to that point where i hit a wall. as i continued towards la defense, i started thinking what other night shots i needed to capture before my waning camera battery bit it. i'd already seen the eiffel tower and notre dame. the premise of seeking out a metro with service to the airport and trying to maintain consciousness was nauseating in and of itself.
it was just after this moment that i saw the light. there in a series of parked scooters and bicycles was one that was unlocked. it was one of the 3 speed velib rent-a-bikes, like bicing of barcelona. i was in awe, but thought better of jacking someone's commuter. right across the street was another one on its side. i kept walking. my mood escalated rapidly, the temptation to seize one and take it for a joy ride playing out in my mind like a game of ethical pinball. i made a decision to walk in a loop to inadvertently kill fifteen minutes. i rationalized if the bike was still there, it was mine.
when i returned, the bike on its side was still there, looking sad and lonely. i took a closer look at the bicycle and noticed the seat post skewer head cracked off, and the tires were almost out of air. i felt a warsh of bicycle medicness all of a sudden, and it was as if the thought of not taking it never occurred to me. i surveyed the area, macgyvered a piece of plastic from my meester coke, and tightened the seat post bolt as much as possible, using the cap to apply pressure to the very tiny arm of the skewer that still remained. the seatpost was tight enough and no sooner was i off on a bicycle in paris.
at first i took it slow, wary or my general fatique and semi-sobriety. soon thereafter, i was ripping down cobblestone streets with an incredible surge of adrenaline. it could have been the cold, it may have been the rush associated with taking a velib, but i felt like i was in a dream - think tom cruise in nyc a la vanilla sky - bad reference, but its what i thought of immediately. the feeling on that bicycle was elation in its purest form, escalating even further when a group of parisians would erupt as i rode by with a ring of the bell. i don't know why i had not considered renting one of my own earlier, but the night found me on a bicycle, reassuring me of the beautiful nature of being so whimsical at times.
i will remember christmas '09 as my own tour de france. here is a shot of pei's pyramid binight.
Wow!
ReplyDeleteKeep writing these! I want to hear more EuroBikeith adventures.
Cool! Any shots of that bike?
ReplyDeleteooo tape club is a good choice, but unfortunately you were in the wrong city. come to berlin!
ReplyDelete