Lennox's Paris Diary 2006: Thursday 23rd March

Thursday 23rd March 08:13 (French Time)

Mood: Happy

Dear Diary,

I woke up this morning after everyone else had left. While this was intentional, I hope I am not writing the same tomorrow, as we are leaving for England. Yay! I had a much-needed lie in and a bath before heading off to the Sacré Coeur.

I asked at reception where the Pompidou Centre was and the woman took ages to answer, looking on the computer and in books and directories. She even had a look on my map. Like I hadn’t already thought of that. Eventually another receptionist came over (she must have noticed the first one too a lifetime too) and pointed it out immediately because she wasn’t a total moron. I hope the first one gets fired. Or killed.

I purchased a day pass, which I asked for in French, and got the Metro to Pigalle. I thought Pigalle was the stop at the bottom of the Sacré Coeur. I was wrong – it was the stop in the centre of the red light district. Imagine my surprise when, upon exiting the metro station, I expect to see a wonderful cathedral and am instead greeted by the SEXODROME. Oh well, when in France…Dance!

I explored the area for a bit (in a completely legitimate way of course) before asking for directions, again, all in French. Mum must be well proud.

What followed was an hour or two of me getting to know Montmartrois even more intimately. For the first time I was truly in France. The bistros and patisseries. The market stalls and shops. They were not made for tourists; they were made for, and survive off of, the local Parisians.

I then walked around the bottom of the Sacré Coeur before climbing up some steps that I recognised to the back of it. I then sat in the cathedral for a bit before wandering back down the hill. I explored every gift shop in Montmartrois in search of a pinstriped beret however I had to resign myself to the fact that they do not exist. I think that there is in fact only one gift shop in Paris and all shop doorways lead to it. Anyone who has ever looked in tourists’ gift shops will know what I am talking about.

I then popped back into the cathedral for more relaxation and reflection. To me, sitting in the Sacré Coeur is like a drug. I enjoy it, I feel a little odd when I leave, ad it can help you have some good old personal realisation.

After coming down from my high I revisited the hotel I stayed at last year. I then I found our local from last year too. I went in and bought a drink before heading off in search of more places I recognised. I walked along past some shops I remembered and then went into Champion to see what it was like now. They have had a layout change since I was last there and must confess I prefer the old set up more. Finally I caught the Metro to the Pompidou centre and wandered around the nearby high streets,

I have noticed that there are no fat people in Paris, which is a surprise considering the number of McDonalds you can find. You get the occasional chubby old man with a leather jacket drinking in a bar while smoking (not that I give in to stereotypes you understand) and I’m not saying that the entire French population is anorexic; You just don’t really see fat people wobbling about the streets of Paris. Which I suppose is a good thing as the Metro is cramped as it is and they would only make things worse.

I wanted to find a French Subway to see if everybody working in there was English however I couldn’t find one and had to settle for imagining one instead. Even in my head they were annoyingly foreign.

Friday 24th March 00:42 (French Time)

Mood: Intoxicated

Dear Diary,

Oh My God! [Insert whiney emofag comment here.] We went to the Pompidou centre and looked around. The best bit was the Laurel and Hardy video. [Memory missing.] Then we went back to the hotel. We waited in the lobby for a meeting then headed off to the local afterwards. [Memory missing.] I drunk loads. It seems tradition for me to get absolutely wasted on the last night. After all, you have to use those Euros up somehow. Luckily, this time I didn’t throw up although I’m sure Tom wishes he could say the same thing. After drinking an obscene amount, we headed back to the hotel (St Lauren helped) and everybody spoke to Sam on the phone. I was annoyed when the credit ran out while DV8 was on the phone and I didn’t get to say goodbye. [Insert whiney emofag comment here.]