after crossing no border and after have shown no documentation, i come into paris.
charles de gaulle looks like a complicated airport, full of people everywhere and with huge hallways that seem to have no end.
i.m lucky, some workers are on strike and i can.t buy a multiple-day ticket till i get to paris, so i have to go with the nice 8,40€ ripp off.
i spend the first half an hour at france on a train discovering how amazingly green it is. the freshness and greeness turn this place into a gorgeous paradise.
once done with work, i run back to my hotel and fall on the bed like a dead man. after one hour unconscious, i remember which city is hidding begind the window of the room number 46 of this parisian hotel and i force myself [regardless of my tiredness] to go out and have a visual feast.
if we were to ask anyone about paris, almost without a doubt, the first two things they would talk about are the eiffel tower and love. paris, eiffel tower and love are three things that always walk together.
now, despite the fact that the only love i.m reciving around here is the love that i can possibly provide to myself, and so, i can only wonder how it would be like to have a beloved person by my side while i.m walking through this fresh 'rues'; i don.t doubt it, it must be true this is the city of love because even dough the hurry everyone is possesed by, the city seems to have been built to provide an endless number of perfect sets where to begin the most passionate love story of all times. 'le metropolitan' is a good sample of that. if you take the subway, and you want to sit, you are very invited to do so, but if you proceed, the tiny space between the cushioned seats will suddenly make you notice how your legs mix with the legs of that person in front of you and they melt, making it impossible to guess where your legs end and where that close-as-your-best-friend unknown person.s legs do.
on top of this is the heat there always is in subway trains, and if you add it to the scene, you can bet there has for sure been a time when two unknown people have collide, possesed by an erotica rapture, into a passionate kiss, and yes, a wet one, yet, a french kiss.
public telephones, something easily findable anywhere in the city, also appear as the perfect set for love. displayed in groups of three and screwed onto the same central metal pillar, they force you to have a very close look of any other person who might be talking on the contiguous phone. the thin cristal separation, would for sure seem almost nonexistent when, while you talk about some problem disturbing enough to not be using a cell phone, you see right in front of you, talking peacefully, the person of your dreams, that whom will make all wrong into right and who would make you happy 'pour le reste de ton vie'.
and thinking about love, i arrive [not by coincidence] to the eiffel tower...
they say hundreds of couples ask eachother in marriage every year on its windy top. that makes this gigant monument a great epicenter of loving activity. nevertheless, what i find there is far away from that ideal. under the four enormous bases of the architectonic construction turned into turistic attraction, can be found plenty of people with their pockets full of money they are happily willing to waste in making unforgettable the trip they always dreamt on doing.
while more than ten and twenty black man [the kind who wasn.t born arround these lands but came trying to find a better life] offer their key chains and miniatures shouting: - one euro! one euro!, several other police cars full of officers who for my surprise never stepped out of their cars during all the time i stayed arround the area, enjoy playing scare-the-illegal-seller, driving towards them and causing the worried men to escape running with those big rings where they carry all miniatuares of the huge tower. an untakeble working day that ends for sure full of tiredness and surely not so empty of euros... who hasn.t bought one of those key chains when visiting the tower?
and on top of all this scene, you find the real protagonists: the couples who argue about something silly underneath which they hide the deep disappointment caused by their impossibility to make the idealized parisian dream come true...
ohh...paris, the city of love!