The weirest 48 hours of all time.
So I get everything sorted out in Sydney, and head to the airport, where Qantas tells me my bag is 5 kilos overweight and I have to pay a charge. Of $100 a kilo. What the hell? Then she says "Oh no, you have some sort of special pass or something, so it's cool." Far be it from me to argue. Once we're done bording the plane (after playing musical queues with the idiots at the desk), I get a whole row to myself to lay down in. But I have a noisy child in front of me. Can't have everything.
By the time we get to Hong Kong (which judging by my attempts to actually *see* the damn city, seems not to exist) it's about midnight Sydney time, and I've been up since 7:30. So I'm a bit drowsy. Couple that with everything in Chinese, a gigantic departure area that makes you feel about an inch tall, and the most random collective of the world's people ever, and you've got a recipie for deliriousness. I had no idea where anyone was from, let alone if they spoke english. I kept bumping into this one girl, and then caught her playing 'King of Fighters XII' is the food court. Why on *earth* do they have that game there, and why is she playing it? And why is she really good? She asks me if I want a go, but by the time I ask her if she's a big KOF fan, she's gone. I'm almost positive she was a figment of my sleep deprived imagination.
Then I get on the flight to Paris. Well Air France lives up to it's French name with the best airline food in the world bar none, and the worst built plane I've been on since Air India. But they have this random self-serve open bar at the back of the plane, so me and this French chick just spent half the flight back there drinking free Heineken. Oh and the best part of the flight was when the snooty steward asked in his French accent, "What kind of wine would you like?" and I replied "Scotch".
Oh and the stupid airline had to put my bag on another flight becuase it was too heavy. Hopefully it arrives this afternoon. Way to go guys.
But was it all worth it?
When the taxi was taking me to Paris, we drove through the outer "ghettos" with the same type of shitty 1960s public housing as everywhere else. But as we were getting closer, you could see the "famous" Parisian architecture. "Eh" I thought. "This is it? Another letdown." Then I saw something I will remember for the rest of my life. The first time I saw Paris. The REAL Paris. Good Lord it is beautiful. If you've never seen it, movies and postcards don't do it justice. It's like Charlize Theron gorgeous. The type that's so good looking, the competition needs to use their personality to keep them competitive. And it posh and fancy too, just how I like them. But it does it so effortlessly that it almost looks understated. No other city can compete with the way it makes you feel. Not London. Not New York. Not Los Angeles. Not Miami. No one. I've never felt this way about a city, let alone so quickly.
And the girls here are batting at South Beach's level. What more can I say...
