Bohemia 5/24/08

This morning when I woke up, I looked outside into a thick or fog and rain. I wanted to go to Normandy today, but I had to switch hotels again this morning, and this new one wasn't ready with my room till after 1pm. By that time it was probably not worth it to go all the way out to Normandy just to come back like 2 hours later. Plus it was raining pretty heavily today, and I had little idea how I was going to get there. I really didn't want to be stuck walking around strange Norman towns in the rain all day, or worse, miss a train back and be stuck there all night. It's really probably better to go tomorrow when I can go early, and stay all day. As for today, I decided I'd use it to go down to the train station and figure out how to get to Normandy, as well as my exit strategy out of Paris.

When I was all settled into my hotel finally, I walked down to one of the trainstations which was just down the way from where my hotel was. I waited in line at the ticket office, and was finally called forward by a friendly young french woman around my age. I told her that I wanted to get to Normandy tomorrow, and asked how I would go about doing that. "Well Normandy's a big place. Where exactly do you want to go?" she looked at me confused. It hadn't actually occured to me that Normandy is like a full region, and the WW2 landing zone was just one tiny part of it. It'd be like if someone came to me and asked how they could get a ticket to Orange County. "The beaches," I said trying to be breif so she could understand me "Beaches of Normandy." I figured that phrase would trigger something, because I was sure that's what thousands of tourists say when they want to visit the WW2 beach landing sites. She asked the teller next to her something in French, he said something back. She nodded like she knew exactly what she was doing now, and I felt pretty confident that they had landed on a town which they could send me to. "Deauville!" she said finally, and printed me up a ticket for the earliest train out, and another for the last train back. Killing two birds with one stone, I also booked a ticket for early monday morning going to Amsterdam. Walking back from the train station, I used my blackberry to help me book a hostel for a night in Amsterdam as well. I didn't want to be left searching for one, having only a day there, and I've learned by now that there aren't going to be any places anymore just by showing up. In no time at all, I had my next couple of adventures booked and ready.

The next order of business once all that was done, was to figure out what I was going to spend the rest of my time doing. I'd seen the sites I wanted to see, and so for the rest of the day all of Paris was free domain. Unfortunately, the weather was consistantly unreasonable. The wind and rain but a gray haze over the city, and turned the dark buildings and even darker muddy color. The more I got walking however, the more I was glad I got to see Paris in the rain. It's really such a beautiful city, and when it's wet the old stones turn into sponges and the streets are bloated and bleeding. In the redlight district, the neon signs all run together, and blur with the black and whites of the old buildings. All what my eyes could see looked like a painting left out in the rain. I crossed through the redlight district, past the Moulin Rouge which was all but abandoned in the daylight, and found myself again in the midst of Bohemia. I traveled down the narrow streets, over hills and through gardens. I walked up hill taking my way around the long way towards the spot I went to my first night with Cara and Carolyn. On the way, I stopped into a French cafe. I sat out on the little tables and watched the rain fall. Later, I heard some wonderful jazz music floating out of the window of one of the tiny french flats. I suppose it must have been a local band practiceing for a gig at a bohemian club. I stood underneath the balcony, my arms curled up in my chest, and listened while they played. When the music finally stopped, I continued up the hill. Between the buildings, I saw glimpses of the view from the top. Beautiful old buildings rose up into the fog like trees into the canopy. I encircled the peak of the hill, wandering in spiral form all the way up to the top. When I finally reached the place I'd been that night with the girls, I found it very different in the light. I hadn't realized it to be such a popular tourist destination. There were people all over the place! Following the road to the front, I found a huge mass of young 20 somethings strewn about the stairs. The view was as I remembered it from a few nights before. It was still just as breathtaking and more could be seen which was hidden by the night. However, the view was secondary to what the young 20 somethings were looking at. The true focus was on one man with a guitar about halfway down the main step. He looked quite bohemian, they all did in fact. Shaggy hair cuts, tight jeans and fearlesness; they listened with ideals on their faces. Every smoke of their menthol cigarettes was a new step toward revolution. The notion of world change colored their clothing, and their skin etched with taboo phrases and polotical parody. Over the heads of these young and restless hung lyrics like fruit from the tree of knowlege. "...speaking words of wisdom: Let it Be." The whole crowd in congregation, joined in while this man with the guitar sung famous Beatle hyms. I sat in the background taking note, and watching peace take root and bloom in Paris. It's so funny how these simple songs by 4 guys who called themselves Beatles have spanned the globe to become a staple for peace, and a posterchild for the confused, and idealistic. When he was finished he took suggestions from the audience. Bohemian Rhapsody was then called upon in great enthusiasm. As he began even just the first few pluckings of the intro, I think we all in one syncronization of thought, stopped time enough to realize where we were. Before he'd begun, he'd asked around where people had come from. I think I heard every country in Europe mentioned as well as Canada, the US, China, and parts of South America. We were all an assortment of a United post adolescent world, here together singing at the top of our lungs in Bohemia, to a song which made it ok to be bohemian. It was a beautiful moment. Then the inevitable rain came again, and washed us off our spots on the staircase. The man with his guitar, soaked and chilled, played on as the rain came down and there was no one left to play to. I too eventually wandered down the stairs with the rest of them, however making a point not to run for shelter. I felt inspired, and welcomed the rain to keep falling.

I spent some time back in the redlight district, having some dinner and a fresh pastry for dessert. When the sun began to set, the rain had stopped and the world began to dry. I walked back up the endless staircase, and rejoined the bohemians at the top of the hill for the night view. There were still more people than the last time I was there at night, but less than earlier today. The man with the guitar had been replaced with fire eaters, dancers, and fiddle players. At the upper end of the steps a sterio played hip hop while a couple kids breakdanced for a crowd of drunken college kids. Every so often a girl from one of the inibreate groups would bounce her way onto the floor and add herself to the show. Even the breakdancers laughed and danced around her as if she was originally part of the act. On the lower end were the fire eaters, and fire dancers. They were all several years younger than me, but put on a show which people back home pay cirque du salet hundreds of dollars for. The best part was that it didn't even seem as if they were performing. No one was paying them, and no one expected their entertainment. When they got tired they stopped, and then later they picked right back up again. It seemed like fun, and they were totally pumping up the crowd and putting on a show. In the lulls between shows, their was always the scenery which would have been enough anyway.

As I was heading home, I knew I'd be heading back through a pretty iffy redlight district at midnight. I didn't have the security of a large group like I did before. I wasn't so much worried about getting mugged or anything. There were still, and always are so many people on the streets that you're never alone enough for someone to hold you at ransom. However pickpockets, pimps, and drug dealers run these streets at night. I put on my headphones blasting a mix of heavy metal, put on my "don't mess with me" vibe, and began walking briskly. My hat, I turned down covering the tops of my eyes. it's my eyes which give me away to those who would otherwise think me dangerous. I still have very soft, honest eyes. With my music fueling my vibe, I stared at the pavement and walked the long walk through. At around halfway, just about the run of strip clubs near the Moulin Rouge, I accidently caught eyes with a largely built man catching people off the street to come in and see the show. I've hated these guys since I've been here. They're so persistant, and won't leave you alone or take a hint. Often times they'll grab your arm as you walk away, or follow you a couple steps and taunt you. This guy decided (probably because I was smaller than him) to throw himself in front of me. In the last second, between the mixture of heavy metal music and the vibe I was creating, my body decided, without my minds consent, to throw him back into the wall. It went in a split second that seemed like hours. In the moment that it happened, I leaped out of my body and a chill ran up my spine. I grabbed the man by the arm suprisingly fearcely, and shoved him up into the wall of the club. I'd shoved him so hard, his feet left the ground, and rebounding off the wall he almost fell to the floor. He was as suprised as I was, but I didn't show it. I never even stopped walking. His friends all came over and held him up straight. In a split second of bewilderment, and embarrassment they all stood silent. Then all at once they yelled curses at me in french. The one guy followed me more than three city blocks before I finally lost him in the crowd. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. Where did I get the gall to pull off something like that? Those guys would have killed me! I had no chance what so ever, I'd of been pounded into the ground by 4 men twice my size. Where the hell did I get that strength from? I litterally launched that guy across the sidewalk, and he was easily two of me. It felt like nothing, like when you hit the perfect golf shot, or make the perfect "nothing but net" basket. It was effortless. He was weightless in my hands. My body was shaking and my pulse was racing, but I stayed cool until I reached my hotel room. Then peaking out the window, I confirmed that he was no longer following. Somehow I got away with it. Inside, my mind was freaking out. It took a while of watching by the window to convince myself it was really over, and then even longer to convince myself it actually happened. I slept that night feeling truely badass.