Unlike Rob Ford, I clearly don't have enough to eat at home, so I've been eating my face off in Paris – if you've been wondering why this silly blog hasn't been updated as frequently as it should.
The mayor himself is a topic that I can't seem to escape, even if I flee to Europe.
At dinner at Le 6 Paul Bert the other night, coincidentally, we were seated next to some loud Torontonians who kept bringing up Rob Ford. I think some Canadians are becoming the "ugly" tourists these days. Most Parisians I've encountered on this trip have made no mention of our crack-smoking mayor and I was quite thankful for that. But friends of mine via Facebook would also keep me up to date of Ford's activities, that he had been spotted in Bracebridge and ventured off to his cottage.
Meeting up with my friend Melissa Saturday at a cafe near the Eiffel Tower, she wanted to hear how the Sun broke the story about Ford going to rehab. She was in town for a work conference and to liven up some of the small talk, she told people she was going to meet me and that I report on Ford. She said it was "the most interesting conversation" among her co-workers that has ever come up on a travel trip.
Rob Ford aside, it's been a great trip. It's our last day in Paris and we're going to take it easy. Sunday is a day of rest here, as many places choose to close their doors today and Monday.
We still haven't had a chance to try the poulet de bres, but the Marche Bastille is still on for another two hours, so maybe I'll take a quick jaunt over there.
I went to see 2ManyDJs at Le Showcase early this morning (late last night). It was a three-DJ set that began at 11:30 p.m. and ran right until 6 a.m. The venue is this old port or docking station for boats, lots of arches and stone, horizontal and packed. Dare I even use the word, "bumping?"
And the train ride to Invalides – was the train of youth. Literally. So many plastic bottles filled with booze. I watched a guy wearing a Bob Dylan shirt coo his very drunk-and not in great shape-friend bent over sitting on the train.
I'm not usually a club person by any stretch of the imagination, but I really loved that Radio Soulwax album they put out in 2000-something during my record-peddling days at HMV. Of course, they're not mashing up Basement Jaxx with Destiny's Child anymore, but they did throw in some New Order with Tame Impala. Everyone was freely dancing. That is something I have to say Torontonians are a bit shy about.
At around 3 or so, a man approached me, pinched my cheeks and said something to me in French. I said, "Rien" or something to that extent and he said, "Are you telling me to fuck off?" He eventually went away, but I figured that was my cue to go home.
***
There have been a lot of highlights on the trip. Meeting up with some friends – Vivian, Ida, Melissa – meeting Mike's brother and sister-in-law and our dinner at the Jules Verne at the Eiffel Tower where bracelets – not rings – were exchanged, with a Star Wars theme to it. There will be a separate entry on that. And just so much good food. This really is a magical city.
No comments:
Post a Comment