Day 10 - Paris: Lasers, Structures and Faeces?

Friday, April 5th – PARIS 

I think it’s easy to escape into the postcards of our minds.  Often I find myself doing the same as I watch with wonder the lives and experiences of other people heading to distant lands and explaining how wonderful the world is.  Ordinarily I would join in, but Paris doesn’t quite do it for me.  I’m not a negative person.  I don’t like to say negative things all the time, but when it comes to Paris I can’t really go off on a tangent in regards to the beauty of the city.  I enjoyed the Eiffel Tower, the architecture of the buildings (the detail is immaculate) and the ability to re-learn French (I’m still working on it), but after the basic sights there is nothing more to this city than a desperate cry for help.

The winter haze and parts of pollution take away from background of a beautiful structure built in the 1700s.  The street vendors prey on the tourists who can’t see the small tricks that cause them to realise a hole in their backpack only after they return to the hotel without a camera.  I also don’t appreciate the dirty aspects of the city.  Pick up your dog’s faeces.  Hell, pick up your own!  

“No, I don’t want to buy a miniature Eiffel Tower for 20 Euros.  I’ve said that to you 10 times already!” 

The kids love it though, mainly because they like to bring up the guy’s spirits when they want to buy something and then walk away after asking for that $20 price to go down to $2.  

“But Sir, that laser pointer reaches to the top of the tower from way back here!”

The English teacher must now jut in a sincere form of rhetoric.

“Is it really worth $5 Euros?” 

3:30pm

We said a sad farewell to Mark, our driver from Luxembourg, as he dropped us off at the Paris hostel.  I still feel bad when we say goodbye to these guides.  The kids gave Mark a handshake and a smile instead.  He knew how sincere we were when we had our goodbye.  When I return to Europe during the Christmas holidays I will see about catching up.  He was a great guy for also giving some students a few pieces of old WW1 memorabilia to take back.

We broke up into our groups and toured a bit of the city near the hostel before tea.  Socks and Jocks (yes, we have a hybrid name now) made it as far as 500 metres in a few directions before the girls expressed their displeasure with the scene and downright weird behaviour of the people.  Being an avid traveller I pushed as much as I could for them to keep walking farther away from the hostel but it was to no avail and we headed back after a stop at a local grocery store.  I understand that big cities will be a shock for these students coming from where they are.  I’m also certain that the inability to understand French only adds to the stress.  At least in England we could have a better idea of when the possibility of being mugged could occur.  Honestly, they have nothing to worry about.  They have followed the right commands from the adults and they have been cautious every step of the way.  Sometimes we need to teach people to let life come to them and stop worrying about how to control it as it makes itself known.

7:30pm

A group of 22 set out for the Eiffel Tower climb at night.  Riding the subway is not new to them now, but it’s a new set of routes and that always brings about new surroundings.  French homeless men wander the tunnels singing tales of fortune and hardship as they dig through the sympathies of each commuter.  The irony is palpable, and it provides the kids with a good yarn and moments they’ll never forget.  Some of these moments include intoxicated French teenagers asking why none of them have boyfriends.  The correct response is silence with a hint of laughter.  They play that part so well.

“Hey...preeeety girl! Where you from?

A female student shrugs her shoulders in a form of “I don’t know”.

“You don’t know?” 

repeat step #1

“C’est imposible!”

Out steps another Year 12 with the follow-up comment...

“Mate, she’s retarded.  She won’t answer you.”

10:00pm

Now I have been to tall structures and I have climbed to high points in my life both literally and metaphorically.  This mere 324 metre set of steps and elevators has caused me to feel a bit old.  Even as I write this my legs still throb from a stupid idea to race Tom Clerc.  Mighty Mouse has too much vigor in his stride and I was left with sore feet and a wounded soul.

I got them all back with a devilish mental game that subtly produced the horror of possible scenarios in an old lift.

“You know when you’re dreaming and you sometimes fall off a bridge in a car or you go skydiving/flying and the parachute doesn’t open?  You keep falling and falling and you think it’s real but then before the ‘SPLAT’ you wake up.  I guess you won’t wake up from this one if it happens.”

Mr Schneider chimes in...

“I reckon that sound is the rope flaying a bit considering that couple pushed their way on at the last second.”

Carpe Diem, kids.  Worst case scenario is that it breaks and the safety device halts the lift before security begins the process of getting us out.  Life can’t be controlled in uncontrollable moments of chaos.  We took our photos at the very top as we snuck under the cameras of couples getting that tacky kiss shot among the cage blocking the scenery.  Ali Carter didn’t mind the cage as she took Tom’s Galaxy S3 and held it nearly a foot out to get a good picture when he wasn’t looking.  A small nudge from a stranger has that fine piece of telecommunications in pieces before being used as a projectile from hell bent on shattering the skull of a poor pedestrian. 

After another race down the steps and we were comfortably back down in the hostel by midnight.  We could have been there earlier but we had a slight hiccup.  This hiccup has to go down as one of the most entertaining/OH NO moments in school travel history.  The subway route we needed to take had a change over on two separate lines.  We had to get off and on many times.  The trick for us is to have the kids cling to a buddy and then push their way to the end wall of the station when they exit so we can do a count and move to the next stop.  The count was 22.........

Did you catch the past tense of that sentence?  

“I count 21,” said Mal. “Who’s missing?  Where’s Julian?!”

And just like that, as Mr Schneider held his arms out in the air (much like Brother Nathan does when he blesses all of us together), Julian’s face appears in the closed door of the subway on its way to another stop.  No amount of praying was going to get him off that train.  It’s not like Julian could magically become an apparition and glide out and onto the platform.  It’s not like he can sum up his gamma radiation and rip the doors clean off.  All Julian could do was give us a calm but joking smirk on his face and a wave as the train pushed on without us.

I took a couple students to the other platform of the same line in the hope that he would be smart enough to get back on the train going our way and meet us where he admirably waved.  After two trains later, Mr Schneider got on the 3rd one and met Julian sitting on the platform.  He hadn’t moved.  That was a smart move.  The others and I saw Mr Schneider and Julian off the train and we arrived at the hostel.  The count finished at 22.  It’s never a dull moment with students from All Souls.  When asked why he didn’t get off, Julian replied: “There were people in front of me and I didn’t want to be rude and push them away.” 

Dude, this is a city of over 1 million people.  Elbows are your friend.  Use them!

We will see the artistic and cultural aspect of the city tomorrow.  Hopefully it makes up for the gross inequalities of this republic.  I can honestly say I’d much rather be an “English Pig” who keeps his city clean than a “French Dog” who poops on every street path.  

I wish this was a hasty generalisation but aside from the beauty of the buildings and the pieces of art, this city is a giant piece of _____ .  Pardon my French.