A former coworker dropped by work today having returned recently from a two month trip to Europe. She mentioned that she had not at all enjoyed Paris and I expressed surprise as I remember really liking it as I apparently didn’t have any negative experiences the way she had. We talked more about her trip and then as if to refute my own previously stated enjoyment of the city, I kept remembering weirdly negative things that happened while I was there:
- On our very first day, we were getting on the Metro and a gang of Parisian louts (what’s the French equivalent of lout?) jumped the turnstiles and then proceeded to flash us.
- After walking up the magical Champs-Élysées at night, we arrived at the Arc de Triomphe only to find a dude taking a crap on it. Like, literally: he was squatting against the facade, pooping.
- Some of the girls in our group had gone to a nightclub (pro-tip: don’t go to Parisian night clubs) and when they left, a group of guys followed their taxi back to the hotel and then stood outside watching the windows and waiting for lights to turn on so they could then go inside and figure out which rooms the girls were in.
There is also something called Paris Syndrome which has symptoms that include “acute delusions, hallucinations, dizziness, sweating, and feelings of persecution” and which “is thought to be linked to extreme disappointment that Paris is not always the magical, romantic wonderland it’s so often made out to be in the movies”.
Voila, Paris! I still like it, although I am trying to separate “Paris is AWESOME!” from “I am eighteen and this is the first time I’ve been to Europe, whee!” I suppose I would have to go back as a proper adult to make a true assessment of the city, which is not the worst thing in the world to do.