Everyone always harps about Paris being an incredible city that everyone in the world needs to see. This is the kind of thought process that has kept it so thoroughly and permanently infested with tourists since the middle class could finally get their hands on international plane tickets without selling the organs of their first-born child. Upon seeing the Eiffel Tower my first night in The City of Lights, the mass of tourists posing for pictures, pretending to poke the tip of the spire with a pointed index finger, I was afraid that I was going to spend the next six days swimming past gawking tourists to catch a glimpse of the landmarks I have grown up seeing on TV and in National Geographic.
As it turns out, the beauty of the city, and the prices - far lower than in Denmark, land of the ten-dollar beer - far outweighed the annoyance I experienced as a selfish, elitist college student. And anyhow, I'm a tourist too, a tourist who wanted to see Paris before I died, like every other person clutching a camera and wearing a money-filled pouch around his neck.
It would be too scatterbrained for me to attempt to go over my experiences in a single long-winded post, so I'll see if I have the patience to rehash my trip in a few concentrated entries.
As it turns out, the beauty of the city, and the prices - far lower than in Denmark, land of the ten-dollar beer - far outweighed the annoyance I experienced as a selfish, elitist college student. And anyhow, I'm a tourist too, a tourist who wanted to see Paris before I died, like every other person clutching a camera and wearing a money-filled pouch around his neck.
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