France, The Dark Side Of The Moon. (part 4)

Charles de Gaulle, Paris Airport is huge and very old. It's nightime already. I walk out the main doors and find Maurice, my mom's husband, waiting for us. It is cold. The waiting lounge looks like a food court plaza. We follow a few electric stairs into the train platform. I can't help but notice how everything is so dirty.

It reminded me of the trains in Sydney. Another thing that I notice is the amount of black people around. Unfortunately this still makes me feel intimidated. I try not to think about it but it can't be helped. We exchange trains, It must be peak hour, lots of people wearing coats rush in and out. So many dark grey coats trigger my instinct of thinking " ticket inspectors ". But they are just normal people.

Suddenly I start listening to the theme of Amelie. Just what I expected from France. Then I realize is live, a couple of musicians travel between the wagons, playing music and asking people for money.... this is very unexpected, to an extent poetic.

We get off the station, the electric stairs are not working and I am carrying all the luggage upstairs, and while we are waiting for another metro/train we see two people running and pressing a button in the middle of a platform. It is the emergency button. Someone has just been robbed.

Welcome to the cultural centre of the world. Land of the kings, cheese and wine.

Finally arrived to our stop. We go out of the metro station to find something surprisingly dissapointing. There are people on the streets selling pirate dvds. I havent seen that since Colombia, back in 2001. Not only that but there are a few people laying on the floor, asking for money. Mostly old people covered in cardboard boxes. It is winter, its almost 0 degrees.

I can't help but think what is the fucking point of having the Eiffel Tower, the Lourve museum, Notre Dame, etc.. if the rest of your city looks like shit.

We have a saying in Colombia that goes something like this: " Even a monkey dressed as a queen is still a monkey"


I go to sleep hoping that talking with people will give me back some of my 'French Dreams' . So far it feels more like the movies 'La Haine' and 'Irreversible'. rather than 'Paris, Je t'aime' or 'Amelie'

Pure French Art

My mom and her husband at Paris Metro.

Ivan is homesick. And to top it off the castle is closed. :)