Monday. Paris.
Paris has been overflowing with tourists of all kind this whole month - especially Americans. Or they seem to be the most conspicuous group of tourists at least (though I think the Italians give them decent competition).
March being spring break season across the Atlantic is probably why I'm suddenly hearing more English in the Metro than French; why I suddenly see an invasion of Coach bags and college sweatshirts; and why I always get stuck in the middle of such crowds.
Perhaps this is the inner Parisian in me coming out, but I have a strong urge to punch some of more exuberant breed of tourists, especially when I hear them complain about how the Mona Lisa should have been bigger so that the entire Metro car can hear them, or that "Noterdaim (Notre Dame for those uninitiated to the wonders of the American accent) was like so cool."
I do admit, however, that I was one of those unbearable tourists too. But after having lived here for almost a year I can thankfully say that this is no longer the case, which gives me at least some licence to vent. J'en ai marre.
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2 comments:
Haha, you're funny. I completely understand. But don't knock Coach purses!
does one year of experience entitle someone to authority over place?
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