Paris: City of lights, shytes and motorbikes

We arrived on a rainy Saturday afternoon. The trip to the apartment was a near mission impossible, involving twisting turns through narrow Parisian backstreets, visits to buildings, rooms, safety deposit boxes, codes, keys and cash, all with luggage in tow. The apartment itself was (finally) a very chique, loft-style space hidden in a side street somewhere in the 3rd arrondisement.

Our first unburdened walk through the rues and down the boulevardes of gay Paris was rather tentative, hesitant. Not entirely sure of our surroundings, we set out to explore the neighbourhood and find the easiest possible ways to satisfy our most base needs: food, food and food.

What we discovered was that a stroll through Paris seems to involve a few necessary scenic inclusions...

Our first option for food was to become a constant throughout the city - brasseries. Every corner of Paris is adorned with a bar/tabac/brasserie. Awnings and street-facing streets behind a neat row of small, circular tables characterise the outside, whilst inside is a mixute of gawdy decor, smoking French and menus which don't fall within the price-range of a budget traveller.

(I feel I need to clarify our budget after earlier mention of a fancy loft apartment... Our apartment was the same price as a hostel and allowed us to eat in much more frequently. Perhaps travelling in a little more style than your average backpackers, we are nevertheless restricted by unfortunately shallow wallets.)

The next is the obligatory streets of lights for which Paris is quite famous. We had barely walked for 10 minutes before we found ourselves under strings of fairylights, crisscrossing a quaint rue of delicatessens, fruit shops, cafes and pastisseries.

More unexpected was the inclusion of vast amounts of dog excrements throughout almost all the streets of Paris that we walked. It may not have dawned on me that first night wandering through the city with lights in my eyes and a swivelling head like a laughing clown, but we did find ourselves having to be quite nimble on our feets lest we end up with a canine cushion smelling out the soles of our shoes.

But perhaps the highlight of that first wonderful evening in this amazing city was the proliferation of two-wheeled travellers up and down every street. Scooters and pushbikes, yes.

But oh the motorcycles!

European, Japanese, big, small, tiny, I don't care how they come, I couldn't get enough. Every red light meant a glorious roar of noise as all the bikes and scooters vied for position prime the second the lights turned to green. And of course there were the lines upon lines of different makes, models, types up and down the streets in the parking areas which are between each intersection. So much to look at, my eyes could barely take it in fast enough to satisfy me!

But like a little boy in a big bike store, my obsession almost led to my demise more than once - it's hard to keep a watch out for dog doo when your eyes are busy chasing beautiful bi-wheeled beasts...



Apologies: Please, excuse my French in the title of this post on my usually squeaky-clean blog. It couldn't be helped...