Copenhagen, what a town.... Ok, I have no idea what Copenhagen's really like. This was my first real scheduling fail. I'd been travelling around using a 15 day bus pass with a company called Eurolines, who are ridiculously cheap, but who unfortunately have a ridiculously frustrating and confusing booking system. The result of this was I spent about 5 hours exploring Copenhagen, 3 of which were looking for the Eurolines ticketing office, and one of which was trying to find my couchsurfing host to tell her I had to leave Copenhagen really soon. It's a shame because from what I saw of it, it seems like a pretty awesome city, but unfortunately for Copenhagen, the two stops after it were Amsterdam and Paris, and as cool as the little mermaid statue promised to be, it was never going to trump being legally stoned in the red light district or hanging out on the Champs Elysee surrounded by French chicks!
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| Unmistakably Copenhagen scene.......wait, shit, is that Amsterdam? |
The bus trip to Amsterdam was quite an event. Sitting one seat from the back of the bus I ended up having 5 19 year old German guys to front and side of me, and a young American couple from Iowa (of all places) behind me. The Germans were on a lairy lads weekend and had brought a couple of bottles of vodka and 3 bottles of some horrendous apple liqueur for the 12pm-7am journey. Realising that trying to sleep was going to be pretty futile, I accepted the German's offer to join their bus party. The American guy also joined in after the Germans briefly mentioned their belief that Americans weren't very good drinkers due to their backwards laws regarding drinking on public transport and the fact that the American hadn't brought the standard German stipend of bottles of vodka OR apple liqeur for the trip. It was pretty funny as the American lad was the kind of guy who probably said HOO-HA!! and AMERICA!! a lot and I think saw this as his WWII moment to show the kaiser how Uncle Sam rolls. It's a good thing apple liqueur wasn't a part of Hitler's plans, because the american lad passed out after about 2 hours with his half filled glass dripping down his shirt. Although the Germans didn't exactly out do him by much, as they were once again were too ambitious with Russia, with one of their group passing out on the floor after the vodka got the better of him.
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| Ve beat das American. Victory drink! |
I woke up in Amsterdam with the taste of apples and internal bleeding in my mouth, feeling pretty seedy. Based on what I'd been told about Amsterdam I thought this was a pretty appropriate start to my time in this town. But I've got to say, the stereotypes for this town completely short sell it. I absolutely love Amsterdam. It has the dynamic kind of energy I found in NYC, the sort of punk independent attitude of New Orleans, all embraced in a very European way, with beautiful old Europe architecture on tree filled canals. I spent two days there and while the sun was up I just walked all around the city, and despite trying, I didn't find an ugly spot.
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| Bike-topia (in the background is a three level bike garage, had to have had at least 5000 bikes in it) |
The red light district, notorious for its shop front display of call girls, is nothing like the sleazy red light districts you see in other countries. Sure, the day time girls aren't exactly glamorous (just like music festivals the good acts are on in the evening, with only niche tastes catered for during the day), but thanks to prostitution being legalised you get a sort of fast food McSleaze glossy version of it all, and instead of the area being surrounded by pimps, dealers and pawn stores, it's surrounded by bars, restaurants and coffee shops (pot smoking bars). The same goes for the legalised marijuana. With such a large proportion of tourists coming to town solely to get high, I kind of expected there to be a bit of a high school experimenting vibe to permeate the city, with people getting completely wasted and going out being a bit of a pain in the ass, but the tourists just fall in with the locals and if not for the stank smell in the air, you mostly wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a coffee shop and a bar. But that's not to say the city is boring. Like I said, Amsterdam has a very NYC feel. I was couchsurfing with a local named Ralph who was an absolute champion. He works mainly in film, shooting movies and documentaries, but also plays in a band and has his own zine. I ended up going out with him and his mates who happened to have a place in the centre of the red light district, and while I'm sure our night probably ranks in the bottom 10% in crazy nights out in Amsterdam, we did our best to deplete the towns' sizable Heineken reserves.
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| Not a bad place for pregame drinks (background: red light district) |
The only real negative about Amsterdam is the fact the city constantly tries to kill you. Crossing the road is hard enough when the cars drive on the wrong side, but in Amsterdam you have to navigate the following:
Bike Lane (which scooters and motorbikes also drive on)
Car Lane
Tram
Tram
Car
Bike
Doing this while inebriated and while always looking the wrong direction means you're constantly dodging death, by inches, especially when the bike lanes aren't marked and just look like the footpath, and doubly especially at intersections where they have pedestrian green lights that only apply to a third of the crossing (you wait for a light to go across the bike and car lane, then wait for the tram light to go green, then one more time for the other direction's car and bike lane).
After Amsterdam it was once again an overnight bus ride, this time to Paris. Luckily no German's this time (at least no loud Germans; I was travelling, there had to have been at least one German on the bus...). I've got to say, I love getting on a bus, falling asleep and waking up in a new city. It's never the greatest nights' sleep, but the adrenaline of being in a new place always counters the lack of REM sleep. Anyway, this time it was more adrenaline than usual, as I was pretty excited about seeing Paris. This excitement was definitely warranted, because Paris is just unbelievable (new advertising suggestion - Paris: Not just for Chicks). The history, the food, the mademoiselles. I was only able to stay for 4 days, which is about 50 days too little to really see the city, but I feel I did a good chunk of it in my time there.
Most of the time was spent just walking around being a tourist. I walked down the Champs Elysee, saw the Arc de Triumph, went to the Louvre, saw the Eiffel Tower etc etc etc. I won't bore you with an exact travelogue of what I got up to. Partly because it would be boring, but mainly because I'd never do it justice. I'll just write a random series of thoughts/experiences and try to let that speak for why I loved Paris.
- It's the best place to be cliched I've ever been to
Everyone going around smooching because it's the City of Love? Yep. Get a museum pass and go cram everything you can into a day? Yep. Watch the sun set behind the Eiffel Tower while drinking wine and eating cheese on baguettes? Yep. Usually I hate being the cliche tourist. I like to mix it up between the obligatory tourist stuff and the lesser seen things and find my own version of the city. But bugger me if the cliche things aren't just awesome here. Above all, you don't feel like you're in a touristy rat race when you're doing it (except the Mona Lisa, that shit is embarrassing. See below.). I might just have been lucky as I wasn't there in peak tourist season, maybe it sucks then. But my favourite thing about Paris were the middle aged western couples who had come to Paris for a romantic getaway. Normally they'd be the enemy of the backpacker. Slow moving, chasing the cliche attractions, not even attempting to assimilate into the local culture. But in Paris they just give the place the a really happy loving vibe and it makes being a complete and utter tourist a really pleasant experience.
-The Louvre is awesome, the Mona Lisa is a carnival
I only got a few hours to explore the Louvre. I saw about 1/100th of the museum and one day I will definitely return and give it the 2-3 days that it deserves. I won't go posting photos of the Louvre as the only way to experience it is to just go see it. Taking photos of other paintings is obviously not a meritable form of art so I'd never indulge in it.
Ah, well if it's good enough for the Louvre, here were some of the highlights....
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| You havent seen Paris until you see a decapitation. |
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| You can find pictures of the Venus de Milo on google, but I bring you an exclusive, the Plumbers Cleavage de Venus de Milo. |
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| Ooh la la, sexxy lady...... |
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| AHHH, it's hermaphrodite. I didn't think this would happen until Thailand. |
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| Owwww dare yooo! Eet ees a beautiful beeet of art, not to be mocked you peeeg dog. |
One thing that sucked though was the viewing gallery for the Mona Lisa. I get it, it's a beautiful painting, from one of the most famous artists of all time, which somehow has an alluring x factor that has made it a favourite of critics and average punters alike. That's cool. Here's how this amazing piece of art is enjoyed:
People push forward, horrendously rudely push in front of those in front of them, and then view it through the LCD screen at the back of their camera. Then leave. I've taken many photos of famous structures which have been photographed by everyone else who's gone there. It doesn't make sense that we do this in the day of google images, but it's nice to have your unique angle of the popular attraction for your memories later. But at least look at it for a second before you take the photo! Ok, rant over.
- I was lucky enough to stay with a couple of awesome French fellas. One of my ex couchsurfers I hosted in Newcastle, Matthias, put me in touch with his mate Matthieu, and I was lucky enough to stay a 20 minute metro ride from the centre of the city. They also took me to a pool party with some of their engineering mates, and in general were awesome hosts and I'm eternally grateful for them putting me up.
- I went to the French Open for a day. Roland Garros was a surprisingly small place, but it's packed with people and has a great atmosphere. I managed to watch a French guy play in the bull ring (court 2) which is a great experience. It's where all the nutter fans are, and the french player, Benoit Paire, put on an absolute show (he averaged a drop shot every 3 shots by my calculations) meaning everyone was chanting and going crazy. I managed to watch some great matches actually. I always love watching tennis players who are a little mad. Djokovic is the dullest tennis player I've ever watched because he plays like he's being controlled by someone on a playstation. Every shot is identical and predictable, and he grinds down opponents with superior skill, fitness and strategy. So annoying. Coaches dream; spectators sleeping pill. I prefer to watch players who look like they might occasionally lick windows. I was lucky enough to see some serious nutters. I saw Dolgolpolov, a man who has decided top spin is for suckers and that wooden racket tennis is due for a come back (he lost). I then saw Karlovic, who is about 7 ft tall, try and play on clay. By try and play, I mean he showed up to the court, hit a couple of shots, shook hands with his opponent, collected his first round loser's check and then headed to the airport. I was lucky enough to capture this on camera with this point.
I also saw Benoit Paire who as mentioned above hit's the most viscious drop shot I've ever seen (they spin backwards) but who occasionally hits ones that land at his feet I rounded this off watching Baghdatis, who while not that crazy, at least has crazy fans.
- I really need to learn French.
- Parisian women are sublime.
- Those two points may be linked.
- Oscar Wilde's tomb wasn't as witty as I'd hoped. Jim Morrison's wasn't as popular as I'd expected. The cemeteries in Paris are overall though are well worth a visit.
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| Jimmy Morrison's resting place |
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| zombie tomb |
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| Oscar Wilde's tomb, not quite what I was expecting. |
- History that must have happened:
The two best French chefs were battling to see who's buttery garlic sauce was best.
'Mine eez so good, eet brings even zee dryest of chicken to life'. And so the other chef prepared some chicken which he baked until it was leathery and tough, and yet his patrons asked for more and commended his new dish.
'Oh ho ho, eet eeze still nothing compared to mine. I could place eet on dry day old baguette and steell my restaurant would flourish.' And sure enough, the people at his restaurant enjoyed and celebrated this new presentation of old bread.
And so on this went, each putting their sauce on more and more disgusting things to higher and higher critical acclaim until finally one day one chef proposed 'Errm. Snails?'
That's the only explanation I have for escargot.
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| That eez not ow it appened at all! |
I'm sure I'll think of more stories later, but it was a brilliant city. Anyway, here are some final happy snaps from Paris. Next stop London, speak to you guys soon!
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