With Eric Prydz’s remix of Another Brick In The Wall blasting out of my stereo. I recall my last trip to Paris. I didn’t write anything straight after landing like I usually do because I was in a inspirational black hole. After reading some others blogs, I felt it was the right time to hit the keyboard and send you some news. Now that St Germain, a french DJ/producer, is playing chill out tunes on my stereo I can dive into my Paris layover and what I did then.
We landed at 8.20 pm bang on and rushed to the hotel to pick up the much needed allowance. It’s around 110 euros. This might sound like a lot but with the prices french charge you, it quickly becomes a nightmare country to be spending in. Everything is so expensive in France. The good thermometer is the meter in the taxis. For a 15 minute ride from the Airport hotel to my parents place cost me 50 euros (Half my allowance might I add). And usually a ride with a french cab driver isn’t the best of start to a layover in Parrrreee. They are 95% of the time either extremely rude or moaning about the social disaster that is France or it’s one-of-a-kind President that likes expensive pens & watches. That’s all they talk about. Or maybe they’ll ask you where you come from and spill out another misconception about your country. Being a very experienced Paris Cab Passenger I act as rudely as they do so they shut it for the rest of my ride. I can then swiftly glue my headphones on and pretend I don’t hear what they’re rambling on about. It works pretty damn well.
I could of taken the subway system to my folks flat but that would of ripped apart my belief in public transportation. And I was not suprised when the French First Officer told me about her nightmare trip the night before to downtown Paris on the RER where half the counters to get your tickets were closed (even during rush hour). Leaving suburbians to queue for half an hour to get their tickets or rightfully bypass the gates and ride for free as she did.
Sometimes french do very good music. Just like this band called The Dø. We discovered them a while back but can’t get enough of them, it’s way to catchy to dismiss, especially the “tss-tss-tss-tss-tss” part of the song. Check out their debut single below !
The Dø – On My Shoulders (mp3)Otherwise here is the only french songs ones MUST HAVE, these are my personal favourites. That is a good starting point to learn french. I can totally picture SuperJihan singing along to those tracks :
Indochine – J’ai Demande A La Lune
Phoenix – If I Ever Feel Better
Indochine – L’aventurier
Noir Desir – Le Vent Nous Portera
So when I finally hit the 19th district in the North Eastern part of Paris, I started to smile again. Got my stuff out the cab and strolled proudly towards my parents. Mother opened the doors with a Gin & Tonic in hand to welcome me. She knows how little time I have before cut-off point (we cannot drink 12 hours prior to a duty) so she makes the most of my stay. Of course I didn’t drink on my own, she joined in with a Sancerre white and Dad with three fingers of his sherrished Springbank whisky. We yapped along until I was ready to hit the town again (it was around half eleven at night). I hopped in another cab and went for the 11th district. Peeps the 11th is where it all happens. If you want to experience what Paris is really like, amongst real parisian wildlife, please avoid tourist traps, go for the hidden little terraces and bars of the 11th district. There I joined the french side of my mates and yapped more with them. It was only in the early hours of the day that I decided to head home for some sleep. And blimey I slept well ! The next day was pure lazyness. Enjoyed the sunfilled balcony that Dad takes pride in… complete with plants & flowers to accompany you in Zen paradise. Amy Winehouse screaming out the Hi-Fi system. I was in heaven. By 6 o’ clock it was time to shut the Wino’s mouth and get ready for the flight back to Dub-Dub. Mother came back just in time to say goodbye and then climbed in yet another expensive taxi back to the airport hotel where my colleagues were waiting.
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I love doing Paris flights. They are so easy. French will not bother you endlessly with call bells because they are so used to get their own drink down in the back galley on Air France flights. All they need is a smile from a hottie on board, some red wine and an extra piece of bread. That’s it. They will leave you alone for the rest of the flight. The only ones to bother you in your galley chat with fellow Cabin Crew is the sole American seated way up there in 17 Bravo that keeps wanting for more water. He stopped when we commonly agreed to spare him a bottle so he would stop pressing that awful button. With a lot of time to spare between the end of service and the final approach into Dubai, I decided to visit the aircraft in more detail. Went to see the FGones at the front as I needed some info for my future Osaka flights. I love Japanese crew, they’re so helpful, kind and heavenly cute. Got my information and then downgraded to J/C (or business) to check out the fruit platter. I only eat fresh fruit onboard whenever were heading back to Dubai as the fruit tastes much nicer. I forgot to mention I went to see the flight deck for some newspaper reading because it is the only place where it’s peaceful enough for one to read his daily dose of world drama. Did I mention I had friends travelling on this flight too ?? No, well Dali & Nadia, two french Cabin Crew here in the Sandpit were part of the flight. Nice to have them and have a laugh with them.
By the time I got back to cattle class, it was time for us to get prepared for the landing, or in other words, parading with white latex gloves, collecting blankets and headsets and then sit your bum in the jumpseat.
We hit the tarmac and the 34 degrees Celsius of Dubai. Instantly bringing rashes all around my shirt collar as it rubs against my frail skin. Back home after an hour and a half I enjoyed the rest of the day in my bed, gently cuddled by the sweeping flow of the air-conditioning.
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