Eat some cheese have some sex (Paris part 2)

So what do you do in Paris near Christmas time? Everything. How it starts is mould wine, friendship, ice skating, some kind of epic rachlette sandwich filled with ham, potato and cheese (look at the photo, it's had its own private rant) and then moves into more artery clogging adventures, soaking up the ambiance of a city in the full bloom of festival and everything those pretty lights offer. Do your thing, wake up in somebody else's bed. Coffee at whichever artisan café happens to close by. Repeat.

That's it.

OK you should probably do the Louvre, I went there three times. And there are a dozen other attractions to do before you're bored enough to go to Disney Land, and that's not a statement hatin'. But point being, enjoy some lifestyle, the Eiffel tower is a check box. New rule, if it's not a story worth digression, is not one worth telling.

 

But what the heck, I was motivated to do it all and have little regret for time poorly spent. Buy something on the Champs Ellipse, see the city from the tallest building of its time, under no circumstances talk to a Parisian about how it is an architectural wonder unless you want a two hour argument of why you're wrong (still haven't figured that one out). Go have a look at the ossuary, Notre Dame and Sacre Coure. All of these have a place in a photo album and deserving in writing, but when it comes to ambiance, this city has got it and don't miss it.

 

Sorry, I didn't get a pick of it on the end of my finger.

 

Best Sandwich ever

 

Notre Dame. Top 5

Catching up with a friend (Paris 1)

There's nothing like catching up with a friend. Rolling with the random occurrences, minus one book, several hours of sleep and any ability to think beyond the rational. When the sight of the spot light on top of the Eiffel tower sweeping across the city comes in to view, it's a reassurance that the world is fun place, and better the less negative care you carry.

Battered and semi contious, I contorted through the metro yoga that is the ritual and privilege of anyone traveling through a major city. Checked in, sent Alex a message and went for dinner. Placing my order in a very broken french, the response given in exceptionally fluent English, oh well, points for trying. It wasn't a late night, but it was a long sleep.

It was a day of the practical, cigar investment and wandering, map collecting and working out what to do in Paris. Turns out quite a lot. A grey sky day, didn't make the highlights of the photo album, but the night lights, well that's something different, Christmas was only about six weeks away at this point and the city knows how to dress up for it.

Crouched down over a cup of mould wine, collar up and beenie down, was quite possibly the smartest person I know. Quite a funny look, but practicality trumps style when your against the cold. To cut a long conversation short, we both had our issues with the opposite sex and once we had both vented our parts, we agreed that in the perspective of things, the good and bad are just character building. A few laughs and a glass of wine later, the world once more was looking rosey.

 

Light fading early now

 

Champs Elysée

 

The city is at its best after the sun sets

I'd rather cry in Paris (The end of the east part 1)

We had a fight. We needed a fight, because we started talking more again after that. It when along the lines of, "What was the point of me coming back? I thought I had a reason, and led to believe I had one, but I would have gone to Turkey if I thought this was what I was coming back to."
"Because I could have made you fall in love if I wanted to." "I had already left, and just enjoying the now. So what you are saying is you were leading me on?" "No." "Then why am I back here?"


The last night we stayed up and talked till six in the morning, then slept for an hour before getting up. Then we talked all the way to the airport. I can't recall what was said. But I remember the feeling, enjoying the company, and letting go the feeling of betrayal. It's funny I new I was clinging, but it was mutual bidding war. I wanted to be caught up in a moment, and like the alcohol it only hurts after the fact.


My head a mess of too much to take in and process, looking to the forward, living in the moment, and trying to put some closer on the past. Waking to the rumbling sound of tires on tar mac as the the plain came into land. Then a blur of language, cigarette smoke and an update of currency. On the bus; the rush of a new city and being somewhere in the world that I've always wanted to be, and crying at the same time with the opposite of emotions. Replaying the last six weeks over though my head.


As the Eiffel tower came into view beaconing the city, the cleché became true “I’d rather feel shitty here”.

Flowers for a funeral (Wroclaw part 2)

I had about forty five minutes, and wasn't letting a second of it go to waist. Flowers, hotel check in, book a taxi, candles and petals around the bath tub, shower, shave, clean clothes. Taxi to where I was meeting Szilvi and still have five minutes to spare.

She was looking beautiful and hand in hand we walked while talking till we came to the center of town, and our hotel and restaurant. Small talk, miss you talk, antidotes, and travel notes, a lot said and a lot unsaid. Like that feeling you haven't been way from someone. We did the whole romantic dinner thing, wine, three causes, and up to the room, where we opened another bottle of wine and danced till we fell on the floor.


It was an early check out Szilvi had made plans with two of her friends to have a movie marathon, and we were cooking a feast to last the night. I had already agreed to it about a week before, though I wasn't expecting for us to eject ourselves so that we didn't even cuddle in the morning. I let her know that I was frustrated by this, 13 hours I had been back and I was playing number 2? If there was no 20 minutes of us in the morning, than it wasn't so long the question came, why?


Quickly 2pm came round and no one showed up, 4pm came round and no one showed up. At 6 pm we got word that no one was going to. We ate dinner, and watched movies, I was feeling bad for her, she was obviously looking forward to it. I understood that she felt let down, felt angry, but with all the long conversations we had, talking for 5 hours most nights, again I felt like a second priority. We had made plans that we would go to Zakopane for a few day, get a cheap hotel, go walking and hope for some really cold days. As we made plans there was always something, that made it not work, the room was too expensive, the bus didn't leave at the right time. Like we had to wait for the perfect opportunity, rather than make the best of what we got. We had one more day of this, no sex in the middle of the day for the fuck of it, we were support to be driven by lust and love and passion. A needle and a cushion had more passion then us.


It was day three, so much for another week together. I bought flowers, this time not for joy, but I'm sorry. Sorry I'm leaving. Sorry but we had something, and we both knew that it was never going to work, so we can't repair it. I'm heading to Gdansk, and am going to continue this next part of my adventure.


I would like to think I changed my mind. No, the plan got changed, that was all. I had a message, are you going to be in Paris this weekend? I was planing Monday, it was time I left the east behind and a couple of days forward wasn't a bad thing. And a good friend, you know when you need one.


And that was it, I booked my flight, I stayed a couple of days longer. One night we where having a smoke on the balcony, I give her a kiss with all of the passion I had, not because I was in the mood to, but from a reaction point of view. We had a fight.

Table for two (written in Budapest)

To my Dear Szilvi,

Come join me, for a romantic dinner for two.

Break this feeling of longing, that I have struggled with for the last two and a half weeks.

Take my hand as we wander, and share the stories of our time apart.

Dine with me so that we may hold each others gaze once more.

I will wait for you, at six pm;

on the night of Friday the fifteenth November,

So that I may give you the kiss we have yearned for.

Before we embark, to the Granary la suite hotel restaurant.

You needn't bring anything but your smile, nor worry about a thing,

and when dinner is done a room awaits us upstairs.

Your laugh, your smile, your body beckons me back

Please write your response soon.

Missing you still

Yours in longing,

-Duncan

You can't argue with idiots (Budapest part 4)

Not wanting to go straight to sleep, when I got back to Budapest, I stopped in for what would turn out to be a not so quiet beer. Well the first one was quiet, jotting down notes with passing conversation, then with the satisfaction of one glass I ordered another. I was in the mist of a conversation with someone near by, when a man came out of the bathroom walking towards where we were sitting. This man had evidently annoyed the person I was talking to before, and was well intoxicated. My counterpart tried brushed him off and minutes later left. Without the chance to return to my notes the annoying fellow, decided he needed someone else to piss off.


"Where you from?"
"Australia."
"I hate Australians!"
"And that how you open a conversation?"
"I got fucked over by an Australian girl!"
Then proceeded to tell me how, Australia is fucked. And how this girl convinced him to come out to Australia and screwed him over. While I proceeded to tell him, I couldn’t care less.
"Australians are all fucked, there only interested money like the Jews"


Take it from here that I already had one stop loose, and with every other starting to come off very quickly.


"Sounds like you picked a dud. Fuck, you want to tell me how shit Australia is, you got screwed over, your problem, do you want me to get started on the Jews?"
"The Holocaust didn't even happen, you don't know the truth, it's a conspiracy"
"Yeah, the Polish built Auschwitz as a tourist trap to make money?"
Obviously what I meant by this was "I swear you're retarded, go to a fucking library". I should have been less surprised hearing.
"It's all a big scam, you can't comprehend it"
"Well explain it, come on, tell me how it's all a big plan"
"It's out there on Youtube" then no other logical argument.


.."I swear you're retarded, go to a fucking liberty".."Go to Auschwitz or any other camp, have a look at the photos the millions of possessions, the matted shaved hair for felt making of hundreds of thousands of people" I did the maths out loud for good measure.


This has been thoroughly abbreviated, a lot more was said. In truth I used a logical approach first without raising my voice as I was treating it as a logical debate in the hope I could get him to reconsiders his points. It was an unrealised hope, so I crushed him. I could and did counter his arguments easy, what really pissed me off, is he wasn't smart enough to realise I was pissing on him.



Then I left.

A little lull (Egar)

I was on the edge of town staring up at a sign that read, Szépasszonyvölgy or the much more easily read English translation 'Valley of the beautiful woman' (that way). This was wine country, red wine country, or at least the city that provide residence for wine country. The wine Bikaver also known as 'Bulls Blood' it's self is what Egar is famed for, sure they have a castle, been invaded a few times, but where hasn't? It turns out the 'Valley of the beautiful woman' was the precise place I wanted to be the next day, but I would of followed that street on a whim anyhow if it wasn't. City centre was a better place to bet on until I had a base for the night.


Upon with drawing money and a check of my balance I was where I had expected to be, and about two weeks forward of where I wanted. No matter, I found a hotel that came within the region of my budget. Cheesey (along with bread and lettuce) could have described more than my dinner that night. Well the name of my temporary dwelling was the Hotel Romantica, and lived up to all the tack that could be suggested. Half bottle of wine, clipped rose on the dresser, red, there was a lot of red. I felt like I should be sleeping with someone here on point of principal, not to happen this time though.


I slept in, feeling drained nearly two months on the road and burning the candle at both ends was taking it's toll. Valley of the beautiful woman, well theirs a name that inspires life. It was already the afternoon and feeling like the morning had been waisted, I was going to take pleasant break from trying to see everything. Perhaps it was a waist of the day to only want food and wine, but I felt like I needed to take the opportunity to have a day doing nothing. Of the food I got more than I had anticipated, walking down into the valley with a solitary restaurant at the bottom.


A small feast, described what I actually ordered, that could have amply satisfied two, was my solitary challenge. And the wine was the delicious and famed 'Bulls Blood'. The waiter insisted on me having dessert, after graciously refusing twice, he brought it out on the house. I guess as a thank you for helping him with his English, I find it amazing the kindness you get from strangers. Though in a restaurant, this was quite perplexing. Perhaps it was because I was the only one dining at the time, even though the sun had barely set and it was still very early in the evening, maybe it was an encouragement to tip (which I did well). All I can say, it it was a great meal, I didn't feel short changed for what I prayed for it.



I may have felt like I could have done more that day, but one of appreciated quietness. I had a deadline to keep so I was not about to keep the habit; or so I thought...

More than an ample dinner