Let's meet in Orchard, no Paris

It amazes me how we have no longer confined our gatherings to our sunny island. En and Lili met up for drinks in HCMC while on their separate trips and Yin and Looloo made arrangements to travel in Paris while I'm there for the weekend. HT could have met up with P. Lupsup in BKK while she was there, but didn't have enough time. Even Erin, whom I got to know while studying in Beijing, has relocated from New York to our island. The borderless world to me was always associated with the digital age, but growing up, it slowly dawns on me what it means when they say the world is getting smaller.

So I dashed out of my hotel room to meet the girls. I was late. Luckily, the girls were just at the reception counter of their hostel when I got there. Phew. But it was great to see them after ... 2 months and in Paris! It was a quiet Saturday morning and we made plans to visit the hoity-toity shopping belt in Champs-Elysees.

We spent some time in the sprawling equivalent of Sasa in Singapore. When we left with bags full of stuff, we got approached by a couple of Chinese ethnicity. They declared in Mandarin that they are Singaporeans and needed our help to purchase designer bags. What! Oh please. They didn't think in a million chance they would have approached a real Singaporean, while pretending to be a fraud. Disgusting! We said no, of course. There were many stories from people who have been to Paris, that Chinese nationals will ask tourists to help them purchase designer brands on their behalf, so that they can qualify for the VAT refund. Duh. When we got to LV, we asked if there were any quotas on the number of items for which tourists can claim VAT, they said there was no limit. Now, why would that silly couple spend their whole day harassing tourists to do them the favour then? They were still there after we visited the Arc de Triomphe.

Going to a designer store is an experience itself in Paris. They let Singaporeans indulge in their national past-time - waiting in queue. Right. I was peeved the "bouncers" at the door had stuck up looks on their faces. I refused to queue at first. Ridiculous. When I left the girls there before I made my way to the Post Office, there was no queue. To me, they just wanted to up the prestige level and generate buzz. Gnashing my teeth, I gave in and queued. I couldn't see the girls from where I was seated outside. There was a lady, all dressed up to the nines with a dalmatian on a leash. She too, tried like many before her, to convince the doorman to let her in. No way. She queued like everyone and it was surreal seeing a dog in the upscale boutique. What if it poops? Afterall, Paris is of all places I've ever been to, the one with most dog poop in the streets. I never believed my Mum when she said that, but being there myself confirmed it. The lady who attended to the girls was very attentive. She is of Asian descent and spoke English with a French accent. They had an odd system. You get ignored until you located the person with a red sash or scarf across his/her shoulder. He/she will direct you to an available sales personnel. All sales personnel who are already attending to customers, do not service another simultaneously. Now, this system serves to up my blood pressure, if not for the charming smile from the store manager when I entered. Honestly, you'd look very foolish wandering around and hoping to catch the eye of the staff who are attending to others.

We strolled along to the Arc de Triomphe. Managed to get a few shots. It was an imposing structure. Its less glamourous cousin in Vientiane definitely fades in comparison. We went to the Latin Quarter. We had to eat. But along the way, we got into a street demonstration. We caught the words "psychiatry", "enfant". Couldn't quite make out the rest. They were dressed in lab coats and some wore masks you'd see on "nightmare on elm street". Kids were also involved in the act. They were all piled into a truck and chanting something. There was another truck with a guy in a cage. It was very orderly in that narrow street we were in. The police were around to supervise, I guess if anything got out of hand.

We got set lunches at 10euros (20SGD) each. The pate was not bad. The turkey, tough. But Looloo's chicken was grilled to perfection! And Yin's onion soup topped with melted cheese was saliva-inducing... We trudged to Notre Dame with our extended bellies. It was terribly crowded and we did one round of the church. Something struck me though as slightly odd - there was a nun near the exit of the church. She was asking for alms.

I never found Paris dirty until I examined my beige pants. They were grey. The girls remarked that London is cleaner. We enjoyed the buskers in Paris though. There was a full (Hungarian?) band playing peasant music in the subway, and I came across a Chinese oldie playing the flute the day before. The narrow spaces amplified the music and that to me, made it seem like concert quality. We also sighted quite a few homeless in Paris. We got a shock when we got off the cab later that night and in front of us in the streets were homeless wrapped in fluffy white covers. I saw that one of them was topless. Bizarre. Is bizarre a French word?

One thing I don't get about Paris is where to purchase stamps. The guidebook says tobacco shops. What's that? Honestly had no clue what one looks like. We eventually bought real stamps in a cafe-cum-tobacco shop. Bizarre. They sell the equivalent of Toto in these shops too. We were writing out postcards outside the cafe in the cold night, but were chased away before we could finish. We also wanted to mail the postcards from Eiffel Tower since the postal stamp will feature it, but the post office there was closed when we got up. It was amazing how far we walked from Notre Dame to Eiffel Tower. It was really far. Came across the Nationale Assemble and Museum dOrsay. Next time then... I was struck by how grand the Eiffel tower is when we got there. We walked up and hill and there it was. Wow. The hourly light display got us into a tizzy, trying to capture the shots. We ran like rabbits on drugs to the shop and back for batteries. Workout. My perceived impression of Paris is that it is a romantic city, but I never felt it until I got up the Eiffel Tower. Really, the clean sweep of the monuments below and the bright lights, just gets you in the mood. When we got down, I was a little overwhelmed. Afrikaans with brightly-lit Eiffel tower trinkets strung along their arms all ran towards us, asking us to to buy them. I never felt threatened in this city where there are loads of people of other races, but this really shocked me. One impressed us with his Mandarin and Cantonese sales pitch. Wow, not many foreigners can even differentiate the difference between Chinese, Japanese and Korean.

In an eyewear shop, a friendly sales personnel recommended we check out Paris' redlight district. We did, later on that night. It was more sedated than I'd expected. There were no street walkers in sight, though the neon lights of "sex" and "peep shops" were jumping out at you. It was not even very crowded. Anyway, we were curious and went to into one. It was empty when we got in. Surreal. We got seated on a couch with drapes and then a lady came sliding in. She did a girly dance. But being true-blue heterosexuals, we were staring with blank curiosity. We were thinking how sad this is her job. Then we realised we probably should not judge. There could be many considerations on why this is her job. Then the next customers came. Interestingly, it was Sat night. And only 2 sets of customers in the club.

We missed the last train and had to catch a cab. Luckily the girls manages to make their curfew imposed at the hostel. It was a brief Sat, but thoroughly enjoyable what with the odd experiences and thoughts we shared. Adieu girls, till the next trip. =) (4 Nov 2006)

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