Paris Reveille!!!!

Traveling is what gives me inspiration and tremendous joy. It is what opens all my channels for creation, inspiration, but also discovering/exploring/feeling life, humanity and myself.

Traveling and getting out of my comfort zone is for me, what fabrics and colors are for designers, what music is for dancers… A way of living.

Traveling makes me remember my experiences with foreign friends in Amsterdam who are afraid for their bums during the gay pride or losing their mind after a night of party :) (sorry Malaysia (Dubai) and Delhi) But it’s also about discovering myself. Realizing I can be a tourist in my own country too. Especially when you arrive at a train platform and you don’t have 50 Eurocent quickly beforehand. You simply realise you are a tourist and you are allowed to freak out.

‘Oh shit, shit, shit, where are those 50 cents for this idiotic machine….

I am walking on my spot as a horse who is ready to run it’s Olympic golden medal race.


My suitcase next to me. A little gate not wider than 60 centimeter in front of me. This big-bag-who-everybody-has-it’s-comment-on-but-where-everybody (female-and-man) love-to-drop-their-stuff-in-when-we-shop, is I M P O S S I B L E.
I can’t find my so much desired 50 Eurocent.
Found it.
Drop it Trish, drop it immediately where it belongs. And finaly…
Zoef…
door opens as two sharp knives; like a guillotine. It closes immediately. I don’t want to be chobbie chopped, so have to be handle quick to in this hard to handle situation.
Getting chobbie chopped at this age is of course not serving mankind. It would be a huge loss for this world.

It smells extremely fresh in this lo. Am I chobbie chopped or not? Did I already reach heaven?
Thank god the way is free. Bag on suitcase. Jacket on bag. Pants already open and on my knees. Never been this quick… While having this lo-experience for 50 Eurocent, I hear the music ‘Release me’… I can’t stop smiling. Trust me, I am getting released here.

I am Dutch. And as my train comes in 15 minutes I start relaxing, using each and every minute in this lo. I haven’t paid 50 cents for less than 60 seconds of using a this lo. I will make a huge profit on this location.
What else to do than enjoy till the max in this flowerish fresh clean warm hardly anybody around area.
Not ever in my life I sat, not ever ever so relaxed. All my muscles loose their tension, like flushing away immediately everything. And suddenly, I unexpectedly release (keep in mind the song ‘Release me’ is still on) the loudest fart ever in my life.

Oh my god. Oh my god! I inherited a real bad habit.

How on earth, am I ever able to leave this flowerish smelling lo without anybody to see me… I wish I was wearing a burka. The hell with Geert Wilders, but I want a burka now! Maybe nobody heard it… Unfortunately he lo paper shows me I am so wrong, it's still moving a bit or is it my gasping of air.
The door is hanging skewed in it’s hinges, or was that already before...

Release me is turned off. Omg it was not the radio, it was the cd of the lo man. It’s dead silent. Far far away I hear a whistle of a leaving train.

I give my debate up. I have to go out. Within some minutes mine will come and leave too. I straighten my back. My head I throw up in the air. Washing my hands and looking into the mirror I say ‘you can do it Dutchie’ and there I go straight to the guillotine.

‘Hope you get a very pleasant day madam’, he says. And I think: Bloody hell, you, hypocrite. You just heard worlds loudest fart ever. But I reply: ‘I will succeed, cause I am on my way to Paris’. Like he is interested, but somehow I am still so impressed and ashamed that I start blabbering….And there I go. Zoef, doors open. Zoef doors closed.
Once in the train, I look inside my purse. And get all my 50 Eurocents I can find. I invented a security space in my purse. This I do not want to experience ever in my life again. And what I want to suggest to all the tourist coming to the Netherlands is: keep your 50 Cents ready… just in case.’

Paris reveille, cause here I am.

It’s the noise of the street which is slowly waking me up on Saturday morning. Wrapped under the fresh washed blanket I try to open my heavy eyes in a little but very comfortable hotel in the middle of Quartier Latin. A hotel in a total different setting than my hotel in Berlin. There I was located in a very old part of east Berlin. A part which is still breathing communism. A hotel which had, especially for me, a very exciting view out of the window; the most silent neighbors one can imagine. A big graveyard covered in the charm of rain, snow and freezing coldness. How inviting. This time I am more fortunate. I am right in the middle of all action; food food food, not to forget great wines and easily accessible with the RER.

It’s still early . It’s this time of the day which is – according to me – the most magical. In case you want to get to know a town, you have to get yourself on the streets at this time. It’s this time of the day in where you feel the rhythm of people and the rhythm of the city. It doesn’t take me long to wash, get dressed and checking out.

My weapons for this morning are simple. My camera, 2 croissants, 1 pain au chocolate, fresh orange juice, water and my pen with paper. It’s foggy but the sun is warm already. Finally after all these month of depressing weather.

Paris, the city of love. In the country of wine, baguette, croissants and lot’s of charmeurs…. In a parc in the middle of Paris I settle myself and simply watch the movie called ‘Awakenings’.
It’s here in this city where the biggest of the biggest of sculptors, of fashion designers, of painters, of the writers got or still get their inspiration…. I am totally not surprised. Paris is eating you and simply breathes inspiration. And although I am still in my Saturday-morning-slow-motion-mode, I see that most French are getting ready to speed up. In this dusty piece of parc with everywhere iron seats, with a perfect view on the Tour d’Eiffel and the sun welcoming me, I also suddenly realize I am surrounded with tons of men, half naked, totally bronzed… ooh time to move I guess.

Seema waits for me. Although I am from this part of the world and she not, she is more French than I will ever become. We talk and talk (real girlies), we shop, try dresses and shoes (no still haven’t enough), eat and taste the wines. But for soul food we go to Le Louvre with the gorgeous exhibition of Art Russie. A RECCOMMANDATION FOR THOSE WHO LOVE ART!

Paris… just 3 hours away from my house…. What else to do than simply float, enjoy and love life with the ones you love to be surrounded with….

In the train back to NL I hope I soon see other wishes getting fulfilled. So I can bore you with more of my lifetime stories :)