You Know You've Lived in Paris When...

Before I went to Paris,I discovered a couple of lists ( http://tinyurl.com/3xwn8qm http://tinyurl.com/33eavd8 ) I read on the internet as what Paris might do to me. I've now rediscovered them, and this is what's happened to me and what I think I've become:

1. There's one metro/RER route that you've taken every day, and you can remember the route to walk to the different platforms for all the different changes off by heart.
2. You could tell tourists which metro line all the main sights are on without having to look at a map.
3. You've been in every room in the Louvre.
4. You've discovered one boulangerie that sells the best ..... and getting one from another boulangerie just won't do.
5. You called the arrondissement in which you lived 'home' or 'my area/district'.
6. You've learned that crossing on the green man doesn't necessarily mean that the drivers won't try and run you over.
7. You've been mistaken as a Parisian/a French person.
8. You don't think anything of being on the metro/walking the streets late at night.
9. You consider Boulogne, Neuilly, Saint-Denis etc to be the countryside. I mean, Porte de Versailles or Porte de la Villette mean there IS a door, and therefore an outside and an inside, right?
10. You can tell only by looking at their clothes from which arrondissement people are.
11. You're surprised when someone holds the door for you at the metro exit.
12. "Putain", "bordel", "merde" or the ever famous "putain de bordel de merde" are not considered "bad words"; I mean, you use them every day, and sometimes it's affectionate. (credit must go to a man named Phillipe Martin for that one. His incredibly creative swearing made slow days go quicker!)
13. You think it's normal when you know the life story of the butcher/baker/cashier of G20/homeless man/sales woman of H&M.
14. You know that Paris is not a city, it's an attitude.
15. You've walked for miles through the city just to enjoy the views and the atmosphere.
16. You've woken up happy every morning because you're in Paris.
17. You KNOW that it's the most fabulous,angry, stylish, bitchy, comic, even romantic (even though you HATE clichés) city in the world and that, although you left, you will come back and stay for good.

And the last two are bang on.

I was going to write an obituary, as you know, but having thought about it, obituaries are for the dead, and my relationship with Paris is not dead: far from it. I think it's only just beginning...........

Ground Control to Major Dom

Tomorrow it will end. Tomorrow it will stop. Tomorrow time stands still. The clocks shall fall silent.

After 9 months, my badge will be switched off and I shall, as far as security are concerned, become persona non grata in the office I have effectively lived in for the past three-quarters of a year.

No lunch.

No computer.

In France, that equals non existence.

I shall of course write an obituary later on this week. But something struck me today. Like a meteorite slamming into a planet. I received an email from my university. Houston wants its Franconaut back.

But I'm scared of re-entry.

I'm up here.

Floating in space.

I have become one of them.

'Come on! When should I take holiday' Alok questionned.

I shrugged. 'Everyone takes holiday in August; literally everyone! Do it then.'

'I just want two days though.....' he replied,

'.....then take the 14th July.' Hardik suggested, 'Oh wait that's a Wednesday,'

'Then take a viaduc; forget this pont rubbish!' I announced with a flared Gallic hand movement and shrug combined.

Alex looked up from punching holes in a particularly stubborn piece of paper, smiled at me and laughed.

'Ah Dominic! You are now one of us. Only a true Frenchman would not settle for just one day holiday when he can have two!'

So after much space exploration, the (beautifully cooked) steak and chips supply is running low and the gravity of university is pulling me back to Bristol.

I have much to be getting on with, as you will have read in previous posts (http://domcovkid.blogspot.com/2010/03/election-elation.html), so I shall be giving space travel a break for a year or so. But when I look up at the stary sky from September, I shall always fondly remember my time in the cosmos.

So. As Alan Shepard, the first American in space, once said, 'Please, dear God, don't let me f*ck up.'

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Global Warning

Guess what! Yeh, the French are on strike. In years ahead, I shall look through this blog and go 'goodness, the French did go on strike a lot, didn't they!'

As I mentioned in a previous blog, the French like to work less than everyone else.

So of course when Sarkozy may have said that the retirement age would increase from 60 to 62, there was a national outcry.

Of course, although still being the lowest in Europe by quite some margin, the working population thought they should strike again!

We only had a national strike about this last month!

I'm guessing that'll it'll continue on a monthly basis until Sarkozy puts retirement back to 60 again.

And it's not like people aren't taking it seriously......I went into the cantine for lunch today and there were trade union people handing out leaflets.

The basic gist (amongst other communist propaganda) was that if you wanted to go on strike,a bus/buses would pick you up at the entrance of the office at 10am, drive you, free of charge, to join the protest march in central Paris at 2pm, let you take part in the march and then have you back at the office by 7pm.

So there we go. The French don't take many things seriously (like work) but, when they want to, they can take things very seriously indeed; just look at the football team!!!

'WE'VE GOT THE FLAG!'

'GO LEANDER GO!' Hardik shouted across the Philippe Chatrier Court.

'COME ON! THE WHOLE OF INDIA IS BEHIND YOU!' shouted another person in the crowd

'GO INDIA! WE'VE GOT THE FLAG!' Hardik volleyed back. There was a tittering around the stands as everyone looked at us and the plain obvious fact we had a 6ft x 3ft Indian flag draped over the stand (which I still maintain is so large, it can only have been stolen from an embassy)

The day had started with €16 general access tickets. The day had ended watching the mens doubles final in some of the best seats on the Philippe Chatrier court: the home of French tennis!

I can't write everything down, as so much insanity happened, although I did see a match with Martina Navratilova and Yana Navotna playing some very excellent doubles, and managed to blag my way into the VIP seats for another match!

Of course, below, you will see all the technicoloured pictures! enjoy!

Doubles

Some bits are still English!

'Ah Dominic, you are still in the office.'

'Claude, its only 17h30.'

'Hon-hee-hon! You are so English! In France we would say 'it is ALREADY 17h30.' So I go home! Bonne soiree'

UPDATE: I have just been to the bakers to get a (still warm) baguette. It's raining lots. The baguette got the umbrella; I got wet. There are some things in my brain which are now completely French!

Man jumps off Eiffel Tower!

I walked down into the metro on my way home Friday night and picked up the free 'metro' newspaper:

'MAN TO JUMP FROM EIFFEL TOWER!'

screamed the headline.

Goodness I thought. Newspapers now predicting suicides!

A new age of journalism?!

I read on. What it turned out to be was Taig Khris, the French many time inline skate world champion was jumping from the first floor of the Eiffel Tower, the biggest fall ever on rollerblades, onto the biggest quarterpipe ever constructed. So a big thing then!

I was in Paris, I was just down the road from the Eiffel Tower so I grabbed my scooter saturday afternoon and went to watch. I couldn't not really!

And fair play to the lad, he jumped, landed and the crowd exploded! And I was there. EPIC!

Fact vs Fiction

"....because that Saturday, the Paris transport workers went on strike. And what was this strike about? Job Cuts? Safety Standards? No. The unions were furious that the government had been rumoured to be thinking about considering the possibility of maybe looking into the purely theoretical concept that it might one day (not now, but in, say, eighty years' time) be less able to pay for transport workers to retire at fifty."
-Stephen Clarke 'A Year in the Merde' (fiction)

"This Thursday, today, Paris transport workers went on strike. And what was this strike about? Job cuts? Safety standards? No. All unions in France were furious that someone very very very low down without any power at all whatsoever in the government may have said to a colleague over mid-morning coffee that Sarkozy has been rumoured to be thinking about considering the possibility of maybe looking into the purely theoretical concept that might one day (not now, but in, say, one-thousand years' time) that the French would not be able to retire at sixty and have to work until they were 63, even though that would still be by far the lowest retirement age in the EU and 90% of French retire before they are 60 anyway."
-Dominic Mottram 'A Year Travelling on the RATP' (reality)

Euro-star.

17th May 2010.

06.00. Brussels Breakfast.

13.00. Paris Lunch

20.00. Vienna Dinner

And that's me.

My life in which I hurtle about Europe.

3 meals.

3 European capitals.

1 day.

Le Fabuleux Vie de Dominic Mottram

What a week! Euro-star at one end; Eurostar at the other!

I sit here listening to the beautiful Yann Tiersen soundtrack for 'Amelie' and wonder what else I could do? Nothing. That's the answer. I don't need to do anything right at this specific moment in time. I've pressed pause. I'm taking it all in.

16eme. A series of fortunate events!

'Excusez moi monsieur,' came the call from over my shoulder.

I ignored it. I was on my way to the market. And anyway, a randomer on the street wouldn't want to talk to me. Would they?

'Excusez moi monsieur,' it came again.

Nothing. There were many people in front of me.

'Excusez moi monsieur,' a third time. I turned around, curious.

Because it was the 8th of May, I had a feeling the shops closed at lunchtime so I was up early.

Because I'm lazy I grabbed my hockey club hoody to wear.

Because I hate slow walking people I ducked down a side street and took a short-cut.

Because I'd run out of money, I stopped at a cash point.

Because of all of these little things, that I've never done before, this man had stopped me.

'Vous avez jouer de hockey?' *Oh hell. Brain switched to French and a default list of answers to questions about when training was, when matches were and where we played.*

He was young looking man, probably in his late twenties with a notebook. I looked around me and checked my pockets, waiting for his pick-pocket mate.

'Oui,' I offered. 'Mais je suis Anglais.....,' expecting him to vault-face and run away very quickly indeed. But he didn't. He calmly got out his pen and wrote things down in his notebook.

'Je suis journalist pour le journal de la mairie 16eme'

Right, I thought, better get on with it. So out came a load of questions about hockey, why I was living in Paris, did I visit the market often, did I like living in the 16eme, what did i think about the people. Everything.

He wasn't sure when or where my musings would be published as he had to dicuss it with those in charge, so my first job on monday will be to find out!

He took a picture of me for the paper, thanked me and left:

'Votre Francais est exceptionnel pour un anglais!'

Watch this space...........

What have I been doing?!

Many things really. Firstly though, an apology. I was in China watching the Formula 1, and then, as you know, Iceland exploded, trapping me in Shanghai! With no ability to blog!

But now I'm back in the free world where blogging isn't 'illegal' and doesn't 'pose a risk to national security' I shall be updating more often once more! :-D

Rentre Avec Tes Pieds

*It actually stands for: Régie Autonome des Transports Parisiens if you're wondering.

The SNCF went on strike today. Yes, a national railway strike with 4 days warning.

EU Artwork in Brussels. The French didn't like it. If they keep striking...........

What concerns me is 'Sympathy Strikes'. 'Strike action that is initiated by workers in one industry and supported by workers in a separate but related industry or profession'

And because France is essentially still a communist country, every industry is the same. So even though the RATP went on strike less than 3 weeks ago and brought Paris to a standstill, because SNCF are on strike today.......

So have waited at a rate of 1 metro in every 6, I arrived to get my bus at the end of the line and saw this:

Half of Paris waiting for my bus. And a bus every 45mins rather than every 5. I waited 30mins, nothing moved, so I turned around and came home!

SYMPATHY STRIKES: Like Ninjas on the Metro!

April Jewel!

April is always a good month. For starters, my birthday is the 25th. And this year I'm 21.

So far, this April has started off well; with fish-based japery!

Then I played 18 holes of golf. On the Champs-Elysees. In central Paris. 5 floors up. Crazy!

And found out something that I've wanted to know for ages. How fast can I hit a golf ball?

Answer: 265km/h. Or 166mph.

But antics do not end there! Oh no!

I have two 21st birthday parties to attend and I'm off to China in a week or so!

Why not combine three excellent things? Shanghai, Formula1 and my birthday!

So prepare for a blitzkrieg of colourful pictures in the coming weeks! And many more updates :-D

April Fool!

I have been, yes. Not enough updates.

The French don't understand comedy. Their funniest person for the last five-or-so years has been this man: Gad Elmaleh.

Only problem is, he's not funny.

So it would figure that the French don't understand April Fools day.

They think funny is sticking a fish on someone's back and then laughing. The rest of the world has this; but it's all year round and says 'kick me' or something to that effect.

So I added a bit of English based humour to the Poisson d'Avril. The best I could do given the lack of humour anywhere.

As the deemed cross-breed, the link between anglo and french relations, I am consulted for everything cultural.

So when the Indians came to me and said; 'what's poisson d'avril', I immediately said, it's when all of France eat fish on one day to help their fishermen.......

So with the help of my French colleagues, we all had fish for lunch, in 'solidarity of our fisherman friends'

Eventually I will tell Hardik and Co. that I may have bent the true somewhat. But not yet!

Election Elation

IS IT POSSIBLE TO WIN AN ELECTION WITHOUT BEING IN THE COUNTRY IT'S BEING HELD IN.......?

NO. IT ISN'T.

IT'S POSSIBLE TO WIN TWO!

After coordinating a massive international political campaign of winning hearts and minds even Beijing and the Kremlin would have been proud of and doing this without even setting foot in Bristol throughout, I won! I think it might sink in when I return in September! Maybe! Everyone who helped knows who they are! :) AND once again, many thanks to the 1065 of you who voted; giving me over 85% of the vote. Quite incredible!

And late last night I was told I'd be Bristol-UWE HC captain.

So two jobs with massive responsibility; but massive pride and I'll give them my best shot! As well as writing a dissertation, doing my final year at uni and getting a degree!

BRING IT!

La Revolution

'MERDE!!!!' I screamed as it sliced into my finger. The perfectly formed expletive bouncing down the corridor so far that no fewer than 6 people turned up at my office door.

'What's happened?!' they all asked, one by one, as if I was going to change my answer.

The blood spoke for itself; 'I've cut my finger on the guillotine' I mumbled with both pain and incompetence.

'We have a guillotine in the office?!' came the confused, and rather surprised response from the assembled crowd.

'Yes of course' I replied. 'We're in France so I naturally figured there'd be one somewhere!'

"Then I've got something for you"

That's what the butcher said to me when we'd said our bonjours and handshake.

Saturday is my shopping day. I mooched to the shops and said my usual '2 kilos de mandarines svp' a pause. There were none left. merde! 'I've saved some for you'; and the grocer disappeared and bought the 2kg bag of small oranges. 'pour vous' he said.

daaamn, I thought. Have I been living here that long. Evidement!

Then it got weirder. The butcher looked over at me as I usually buy a chicken.

'Le meme' he said

'dommage' I said 'J'ai les moules pour ce soir'

'Attendez-vous' he said, and disappeared.

I wondered whether he'd come back with oranges. He didn't. It was better than that!

'voila' he said 'ca sera deliciuese avec les moules'

And he produced a bottle of white wine!

So I shall have moules with apparently a lovely white wine tonight! I shall let you know how it goes!

To boldly go.....

Yesterday, I was sitting in my office when a two men came through the door. One was Claud. The other I'd never met.

'Have you met Jean-Luc Picard?' asked Claud of I

'No,' I said, 'But I suppose now I have.'

'Hello Dominic,' said Jean-Luc

'Pleased to meet you,' I said, 'And if you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you do?'

'Amongst other things, I'm head of enterprise.'

He didn't understand why I found that funny. I did. You do!

HR obviously have a sense of humour

Eurocommute

Paper tickets. They're like cheques. They should have stopped being used at least five years ago. But they haven't been.

I did my sometimes normal Eurocommute today. Although it was wake up in England and go to work in Paris rather than wake up in Brussels. Partially exciting, partially exhausting.

This morning it started at Ashford International at 06.45am. I'm not a fan of Kent; I'll be honest. It's similar to northern France; you get the feeling it could be better, like you're going through it to get to somewhere nicer (London and Paris respectively).

So this morning I turned up to be confronted by three families with suitcases and a confused looking man with a rucksack. They were trying to work out how to use the ticket barrier. Even though the ticket has an arrow on it. I waited, e-ticket in hand. After much faffing, I asked if I could help, so I put the ticket in the machine and the gate opened. Stunned silence and bafflement from the Kentish people. I scanned my e-ticket and was through.

Straight into a queue for security. With alarms going off: as someone had gone through with all varieties of metallic things about their person. The man in front of me tutted. And then forget to take the coins out his pocket. I took my belt off just to make sure.

Passport control was lovely; I was wearing my Paris hockey hoody so had a chat to the jobsworths about the not very clever kentish people and even got a smile!

And then the most stupid thing. 'The train is now arriving at platform 4. Please make your way down to the platform.' So people sort of did. Until they got to the top of the stairs.

Carriage 1-9 Carriage 10-18

There was a pause as everyone had forgotten which carriage they were in.

I held my head in my hands.

Now I don't think the people of Kent understand Eurostar.

I don't think they've ever been that fast. Every time another train went past the window, a child would scream. The same child. The same scream. 'Ohhh we are going quite fast'

We were going at half speed because of snow. I feel asleep.

I felt sorry for them. Not because they couldn't work out what was happening, or how anything works, but because High Speed Rail is a normality for me. Hurtling through countries is what I do. What I enjoy doing. The British should have the same.

So I got off the train in Paris and helped the family of the screaming child with their bags and told them how to get to Disneyland.

The End of the World? Nearly the End of Me!

Getting run over isn't the most fun thing that has ever happened to me. I'll be honest with you here readers! But I survived (thank you bulletproof scooter!) enough to write you a blog about global warming!

See what happens when no one mentions it;

It snows overnight so I can take a picture like this from work:

Then evidently the global warmists started talking again as the sun came out:

But the weather didn't like this and wanted snow!

So it came.....

And came some more!

What's white and sounds like a lizard? A blizzard!

a plus mes amis!

A La Bonne Heure

After many sleepless nights and mornings, it's finally here.

For those of you who haven't seen 'le film', here's the link to youtube

enjoy :-)

Preview

謝謝你的分享，祝你生活永遠多彩多姿

'Thank you for sharing, I wish you fun and excitement of living forever'

?

I h a v e a s u r p r i s e.

K e e p a n e y e o u t.

I t ' s c o m i n g.

31/01/2010

New Year, New Ideas, New Look

As I write this, my beloved Coventry City are 15 minutes away from a penalty shoot-out against Portsmouth. The Stig stress ball that my parents got me for christmas is proving very useful!

Anyway, I hope, dear readers, that you had a much festive Christmas/other religious festival and a delightful new year and that 2010 brings much merriment to you!

As some of you may know if you read my twitter feed (you don't have to have twitter to read it), I have been jetting about recently: I flew back to Bristol for my mate's 21st birthday (a plane; see pic) and had an riot of a time! Olly had no idea I was coming, up until the moment I walked through his front door: good times. You can't surprise him; but I knew I had as the 'Alright?' phrase was very much more high-pitched than usual!

*Before you ask I'm still recovering two days on!

On Parisian news, it still hasn't stopped snowing. Although I haven't seen it actually snow, the snow hasn't gone away and it seems to be increasing! I walked to work today and there was an extra two inches from somewhere...!

My boss is finally in the final stages of leaving back to Germany and my new boss moved into his office this morning. My new boss is a woman and I don't think she likes me. From what I've been told/worked out so far, she doesn't like people under 40, she doesn't like men, she doesn't like the English and she doesn't like anyone who has an opinion other than hers. Basically it could be a frosty relationship to start with! Much like the weather!

And and on that bombshell, having lead from the 20th minute, Coventry conceded in the 92nd minute, and have just conceded in the 120th, the final minute of extra time, and are now out of the FA Cup.

I may go off and have a little cry. Goodnight.