Stop For A While: Parisian morning: A stroll on the River Seine and a quick encounter with a Parisian stranger

Monday, February 18, 2013

Parisian morning: A stroll on the River Seine and a quick encounter with a Parisian stranger

It’s just been 2 weeks since I was in Paris and now it felt like forever. My life is fast-paced, mostly because of my work, so I try to squeeze in a lot of ‘me’ and ‘doing nothing much’ time into my schedule to recover, keep my sanity and put my feet firmly on the ground. Work can sometimes be overwhelming so a short or long trip in between to unwind and forget about corporate slavery is always welcome. I should not complain because this slavery has rewarded me the €€€.

So on our second day in Paris, we will be taking the free boat trip from the hotel but before doing so Bru and I would like to do a typical Parisian stroll along the River Seine, from Bastille to the Notre Dame Church area where we will have coffee.

Here’s some of the pictures we took during the stroll:

Bru and I. Bru does not like the sun. She avoids it more than I do =)

Playing the tourist here.

At the café around the corner of Notre Dame we had coffee. Our table was tactically located for people watching, which I never take any less anyway. We were sitting right on the corner street with a view to the Notre Dame Church.

While Bru was at the toilet freshening herself up, I briefly and awkwardly met a Parisian stranger.

French men by the way are generally not my type. I don’t know why. But they are a charming lot, and romantic and often tell a woman that she is beautiful. Something that the Dutch totally lack. A French man can woo a woman and sweep her off her feet, while the Dutch will never get the hint even if she says, ‘It would be nice if you surprise me tonight with some flowers, or a dinner perhaps.’ But the smooth talker French man has higher chances of taking a mistress on the side than the boring, loyal and reliable Dutch man.

Alright, there goes your stereotypes =). Haha.

Anyway, I was totally embarrassed, red-faced. In front of everyone, this Parisian man just came up to me and declared his admiration. I felt the ground swallowing me up. He even wanted to sit down but I told him that I am with someone. He got the hint and left me with quixotic phrases to mull over about. And I was puzzled like--Huh, what was that all about? These kinds of encounters rarely happen in the Netherlands you know. But I do not go out a lot as well sitting on cafe teracces...

Situations like these always reminds me the risks of a female travelling alone. I’ve had worse encounters with men in Spain and in Italy. But the French remains the ones with finesse. They know the complex art called ‘woman’.