One side benefit to this trip is no TV. TV makes you crazydumb. So do computer games. A word of advice to would-be parents: If you let your six year old daughter watch all twelve seasons of America’s Next Top Model, and let your eight year old son play nerdy on-line games like Adventure/Mech Quest, then every picture you try to take of them will end up looking like this:
Total nerds.
Yesterday we went on a real life Adventure Quest. We tried to find this street:
This week, twelve years ago!
Thanks to a few friendly shopkeepers, and big brother Google, we found the street. Check us out, twelve years later:
Same dumb uncomfortable shoes...
Yesterday I dragged the kids to the science museum. Oh man I hate museums. The high light? The sink in the men’s room:
Yeah, where DOES that water go?
The dirty water just slides down into the wall and disappears. I should mention that I didn’t take the pic, and that I don’t know who did. But I doubt they want that photo credit. What kind of a perv takes photos in the bathroom anyways?
The bathroom experience was further heightened by being the 1st clean public restroom I’ve used in Paris. Totally worth the price of peeing while being watched by a cleaning lady. Although that’s nothing new here. Every time the line for the women’s restrooms gets long, the ladies just hop on over! Luckily Paris has no Wrigley Field style pee troughs.
Well, that museum was a bust. It was SUPPOSED to be free with my Carnegie Museum card, but it’s hard to present much of an argument when the only thing I know how to say is “2 adorable little dogs”, a phrase I use every chance I get. Not that paying was such a big deal. It’s not like I’m cheap, I mean geez, we’re in Paris for four and a half weeks. It’s just that in Paris, when things cost, they COST.
Speaking of being cheap, last night Mrs. Neill had to work late, so I made hamburgers for dinner. I probably saved at least $100! Sure they tasted like crap, but think of all the Speedos I can buy with the savings!
Yesterday we walked along the Seine River. For the last 5 summers, they’ve turned parts of the Seine into giant beaches. Pretty fun stuff. Here we are playing Petanque (French Bocce-ball) along the banks of the Seine:
Afterwards we swam in a big outdoor pool with a million other people. Waiting in line in my new Speedos reminded me of swimming class, freshman year in high school, where everyone had to stand in line naked waiting for a swimsuit. You just stood there looking straight ahead trying not to think about anything.
After swimming, we went to the Arc de Triomphe and watched the end of the Tour de France. Oh man. I’m not into any of that nerd bike junk, but it was amazing. People had been waiting hours along the Champs-Élysées, and here we popped our heads out of the subway just as the bikers blew past. And dang were they flying. And like inches apart. Seriously, it was mind blowing. And back breaking, since I was holding Zach in my arms, while Asia sat on my shoulders.
This is why my back hurt today.
Crazy fast and inches apart.
Don’t bother asking for Speedo pics. It ain’t gonna happen.
Every day we go to the park. Sometimes we go to the grand showpiece parks. But mostly we do our loitering at one of the four nearby parks. Each park is awesome for different reasons, but they all have one thing in common: ping pong!
Come as you are.
Although the cell phone pic makes the girl on the left looks like she’s got a bad 80’s doo, she in fact had an awesome ‘77 punk rock doo. Notice the boots being worn by the girl on the right. In the background a tween boy strums Nirvana’s “Come as you are” on an acoustic guitar.
Here we meet our friends again, this time with two cheerleaders.
Well, no doubt I missed the moment. The punky girls were playing some serious ping-pong while the little African-Franco boys were cheering them on. If I had captured it, it would sum up my impression of Paris: In Paris, there is a place for everyone. (As long as you speak French.)
The Neill's play pong.
Today Zach and I went to the graveyard. I’ve never been a fan of Jim, so we didn’t bother following the parade of lames paying their respects. Instead I tried to get Zach lost/spooked amid the 300,000 bodies buried beneath the labyrinth of tombs. It was an amusing way to spend 20 minutes.
Rather than put on some dorky American shorts, I was determined to wear long pants all month, just like the locals. And yes, I see a few of you Parisian men wearing Capri’s…you look like idiots. Up and down the street, African men wear traditional DRESSES, or pajamas, or whatever you call them. THEY don’t seem worried about not looking like a local. This hot weather is wearing down my resolve. It got up to 86 degrees today. (At least today I smelled like a local!) Next time it gets this hot, we’re going swimming. I should mention that “for health reasons” all males are REQUIRED to wear Speedo’s in public pools! Lordy! Thankfully the rest of the week calls for cooler temps.
Yesterday the kids drew scenes from the Seine River. Nothing too exciting. I gotta start bringing a book with me, because I am quickly dying of boredom carting these nerds around.
Drawing at the Seine...
The scene...
Today we shopped at the Sunday (outdoor) Bastille Market. I’d post a pic, but nothing I snapped captured the cacophony, stench, and general crush of humanity. Highlights included: a Rastaman belting out reggae songs (all of which sounded exactly like Redemption Song…perhaps he only knew one song?), an Argentinean couple ballroom dancing (I walked by later, and there was a water fountain in the same spot…did they get wet when it was turned on?), and the world’s most awesome granny panties (not that I’m into that sort of thing).
Now I know where to buy them. Not that I need to know.
Later we went to the park. The kids sat on a toy tandem motorcycle, rocking crazily while howling the nonsensical phrase“ouchie stink-a-poo” to the delight/disgust of the locals.
Ouchie stink-a-poo, ouchie stink-a-poo, ouchie stink-a-poo
Before the waterworks...
I don’t think chiropractors exist in Paris. At least I haven’t seen any. Is it a coincidence that my back feels better than it has in years? Walking cures all ailments. Whoever thought up the idea of a city in which you can WALK to everything was crazysmart. Why didn’t we think of that? A conspiracy no doubt: Powerful chiropractic lobbyist groups are forcing legislatures to spur construction in soulless walk-free communities like Cranberry. Common fatso, stick it to the man! Stretch your achy breaky back and take a walk!
Yesterday we walked all day. Highlights: Watching three homeless men animatedly trim each other’s beards, listening to a French lady get crazymad at a cop, shopping in a zoo-like department store (How many days ‘til Christmas???), and playing in a sandbox in front of Victor Hugo’s sweetazz crib. I thought about giving old Vic a holla, but time was ticking (for me, not Vic). That reminds me of the time I wrote to Jesse Owens and Jackie Robinson asking them for their autographs. Which reminds me of the time I sold Michael Jackson’s autograph for $1, a year before Thriller came out.
I bet Vic's got a sweet ride too...
Unrelated, but trust me on this one: Frenchized Chinese food sucks as bad as or worse than Americanized Chinese food.
Every time Zach joins a basketball camp they give him a new ball. We’ve got like five red and white basketballs rolling around the house, looking for people to trip. Having read that there would be a basketball court in my neighborhood, I packed a ball. I figured we’d just leave it in Paris at the end of the trip. If nothing else, I would be culling the unwanted population.
Stoked about playing bball with the frogs, yesterday I found myself walking down the street bouncing the ball through sidewalk cafes, and in and out of pedestrian traffic. Paris has an abundance of pedestrians, so it took some sweet moves on my part to avoid any ball-going-into-the-street-and-under-a-car action. When you picture this scene, keep in mind that I’m probably the tallest man ever to step foot in Paris.
When I got to the courts, there was no one playing bball. The hoops were in good shape though. Mint condition actually. Instead the courts were being used to play soccer. Holding that basketball, I suddenly felt like a reverse Borat. In time, however, the neighborhood kids got interested in that basketball. They wanted to use it to play soccer! This is not something I recommend. But ok, I let them use it, as long as I got to play goalie, and Zach got to play defense. Let me tell you, Zach may be an above average soccer player in Pittsburgh’s North Hills, but he completely sucks by European standards.
The game ended with Zach getting blasted in the face by the basketball. Poor boy. At least we won, which is all that really matters to him.
Yep, that's me in goal
Yep, that's Zach in the red/white North Hills Basketball jersey
Zach teaches his friends a new game called basketball.
Dumb tourists
One of my goals for this trip is to demonstrate to the French that Americans are an ok bunch of people. After all, we did elect Barry. Who better than me to be this agent of change? Alas, mission “America – OK” was aborted at 1500 hours yesterday, two hours after landing on French soil.
Our journey from the airport to our apartment involved four trains. As we were about to board our final train, I noticed that Zach was no longer carrying his camouflage backpack. After it was determined that Zach could no longer go on living without the two Webkinz animals inside his backpack, I was sent on a retrieval (sub)mission. You know where this is going, right? I certainly did.
I arrived at the Gare du Nord station for the 2nd time that day. The station was (not so) mysteriously empty. Police were holding back hundreds of angry French commuters from boarding the train. A large perimeter had been set with barricades. The idea was to minimize carnage due to a bomb which had been left in a child’s camouflage backpack. After 20 minutes of being questioned/lectured by 10-15 law enforcement agents, they came to the conclusion that I was just another oblivious idiot American hell bent on de-sanctifying the French way of life.
Well, that was day one. Thirty more to go. Here’s the view from our apartment’s patio/balcony:
A view from the top...
I could stitch together a few more frames, but then you'd really see nothing...
