Arriving last Thursday in the afternoon, and after locating the somewhat difficult address, I decided to brave the rain and venture into the night toward the Gare Nord (the North train station) and have my first Parisian meal at a bistro I discovered in October 2015. While having a great meal I was entertained by the fastest moving cab line I have seen, boom! boom ! boom! passengers flying into cabs at a 40-60 second clip, and this went on for the full hour I sat there.
It was amazing to watch, Paris still clearly a "cab town" despite all the crap their taxi industry initially got from Uber. One positive with Parisian cabs, is that when they are occupied, the top-light turns a bright red, telling everyone what the situation is. When vacant, the top light is green. Makes a lot of sense, communicating just like traffic lights telling you when to stop and go. Their efficiency makes me envious, our systems contrarily in Seattle remain quite the joke but I for one am not laughing, their train queues one unimpeded straight line, very unlike the madness and chaos passing for normal at Seattle's King Street Station. Will it ever get better? No.
Since my arrival, I have been walking, walking, walking, and of course riding Paris's famous Metro lines all over the heart or center of the city, taking in the museums after buying a six-day museum. I have seen many incredibly good paintings but perhaps the highlight of my museum is seeing one of Napoleon Bonaparte's famous horses, Vizir, in all its stuffed glory at the Musee de l' Armee.
That museum is actually many museums and sites contained in one huge complex where you can also view Napoleon's tomb, which I did. Some facts I gleamed from the various exhibitions is that 90 French troops were killed in support of the American operation in Afghanistan. And during the German Nazi WW II occupation of France, while over 74,000 Jews were deported to concentration camps, less than 4000 survived their terrible ordeal.
Paris itself remains the vibrant city, not dissimilar to the era in the 1930s when George Gershwin composed his magnificent musical piece, "An American in Paris," that honking you hear mimicking those famous Paris taxis. And the River Seine, such an integral part of the Paris landscape, has been flooding its banks, this January Paris experiencing heavy rain.
Post-Iceland Reflections
Did you know that Iceland is located above the Arctic Circle? Or that it is the third windiest place on the planet? To both I can say yes, or leastwise my face knows the answer, buffeting the icy wind on my way into the Old Town to get a good cup of coffee. And minus all doubt is that it is also one of the most expensive destinations on the planet, a cappuccino in Paris almost 50% less than in Reykjavik.
Yes, tiny Reykjavik more costly than mighty Paris, which is saying a lot, considering that Paris is considered the greatest city upon our planet. While Paris is rightly known for its pickpockets, the Icelandic government does it legally minus the need to grab the wallet out of your pocket. The one very real and special deal are the Reykjavik geothermal spas. Buy a ten-visit pass and soak away all your pains and strains.
I did talk to a local Reykjavik cabbie and he reported that, due to a huge increase in tourist traffic, the "business is great!" Yes, even in frigid January, tourists, especially Chinese tourists, were everywhere. That also holds true here in Paris, the great Chinese tourist invasion is on, forever taking photos of the art, and of course, themselves.
Poem
In the late summer, early autumn 1984 I lived in Paris while my wife attended the Sorbonne University. What should have been a wonderful time instead turned into misery as it was the beginning of three painful years resulting in the ending of our marriage. A memory is reflected in this poem, a thought forever on my mind.
19 Rue Lhomond
How can I forget?
I cannot forget
seeing through the window
her grey pants and shoes
rushing down the stairs
to greet me
having missed each other
at the train
she hurrying back
me taking a cab
now after months
back together
but clearly pointless
that moment the beginning
of three arduous years
circling to an end
I don't want to remember
seeing her running down the stairs
to meet me.
It was amazing to watch, Paris still clearly a "cab town" despite all the crap their taxi industry initially got from Uber. One positive with Parisian cabs, is that when they are occupied, the top-light turns a bright red, telling everyone what the situation is. When vacant, the top light is green. Makes a lot of sense, communicating just like traffic lights telling you when to stop and go. Their efficiency makes me envious, our systems contrarily in Seattle remain quite the joke but I for one am not laughing, their train queues one unimpeded straight line, very unlike the madness and chaos passing for normal at Seattle's King Street Station. Will it ever get better? No.
Since my arrival, I have been walking, walking, walking, and of course riding Paris's famous Metro lines all over the heart or center of the city, taking in the museums after buying a six-day museum. I have seen many incredibly good paintings but perhaps the highlight of my museum is seeing one of Napoleon Bonaparte's famous horses, Vizir, in all its stuffed glory at the Musee de l' Armee.
That museum is actually many museums and sites contained in one huge complex where you can also view Napoleon's tomb, which I did. Some facts I gleamed from the various exhibitions is that 90 French troops were killed in support of the American operation in Afghanistan. And during the German Nazi WW II occupation of France, while over 74,000 Jews were deported to concentration camps, less than 4000 survived their terrible ordeal.
Paris itself remains the vibrant city, not dissimilar to the era in the 1930s when George Gershwin composed his magnificent musical piece, "An American in Paris," that honking you hear mimicking those famous Paris taxis. And the River Seine, such an integral part of the Paris landscape, has been flooding its banks, this January Paris experiencing heavy rain.
Post-Iceland Reflections
Did you know that Iceland is located above the Arctic Circle? Or that it is the third windiest place on the planet? To both I can say yes, or leastwise my face knows the answer, buffeting the icy wind on my way into the Old Town to get a good cup of coffee. And minus all doubt is that it is also one of the most expensive destinations on the planet, a cappuccino in Paris almost 50% less than in Reykjavik.
Yes, tiny Reykjavik more costly than mighty Paris, which is saying a lot, considering that Paris is considered the greatest city upon our planet. While Paris is rightly known for its pickpockets, the Icelandic government does it legally minus the need to grab the wallet out of your pocket. The one very real and special deal are the Reykjavik geothermal spas. Buy a ten-visit pass and soak away all your pains and strains.
I did talk to a local Reykjavik cabbie and he reported that, due to a huge increase in tourist traffic, the "business is great!" Yes, even in frigid January, tourists, especially Chinese tourists, were everywhere. That also holds true here in Paris, the great Chinese tourist invasion is on, forever taking photos of the art, and of course, themselves.
Poem
In the late summer, early autumn 1984 I lived in Paris while my wife attended the Sorbonne University. What should have been a wonderful time instead turned into misery as it was the beginning of three painful years resulting in the ending of our marriage. A memory is reflected in this poem, a thought forever on my mind.
19 Rue Lhomond
How can I forget?
I cannot forget
seeing through the window
her grey pants and shoes
rushing down the stairs
to greet me
having missed each other
at the train
she hurrying back
me taking a cab
now after months
back together
but clearly pointless
that moment the beginning
of three arduous years
circling to an end
I don't want to remember
seeing her running down the stairs
to meet me.
lovely travel-from-taxi writing. so glad to see a pome, too. yeah, retracing-life's-steps writing too. bless each yer journeys. brother writer
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