To them this was like winning the World Cup. Hoards of drunken Frenchmen proceed to tear their clothes off in celebration dancing naked and free in the St. Michel Fountain, built by the great Napoleon himself. Amidst the frenzy, a small dwarflike man appears, moving towards the fountain at frightening speed, each step taken an item of clothing removed. Baywatch Style. The screaming mass motionless with all eyes on the naked anklebiter as he dives into the water. A lone Frenchman, who was watching the debacle, drags his cigarette slowly, pauses and then shares with the onlookers: “There is always a midget amongst us…”
This was my welcome to Paris.
Heading along the banks of the picturesque Seine, we take a tour through a series of famous land marks. From Notre Dame apparently the guy working there didn’t steal my rugby ball but I’m inclined to believe otherwise to the worldrenown Louvre, where it is said that if you look at every painting for 3 seconds each it will take you 3 months to complete the tour. From Napoleonic rule to the French Revolutions and never forgetting the dark era of Nazi occupation, this city of splendour is alive with history. Information overload hijacks my mind. Did I hear something about a human zoo displayed as an art piece in the Grand Palais or… mmm. My mind wonders at the surrealism of such an exhibition…
Before I can say: Parlezvous anglais,” I’m stumbling down the Champs Elysees with a swarm of pubcrawlers who are screaming obscenities at the tourguide begging for more screwdriver shots. I take the lead, grab the vodka and down it straight from the bottle. This time we were heading up our own French revolution! I pause to look up and fall inlove with the city again, this time by night. The Eiffel Tower sparkles in the distance breathing life into the city of love and I can only whisper Je T’aime before being dragged into the nearest night club to continue my Parisian party.