« Happy Happy Joy Joy | Main | Nuclear Nightmares »
May 21, 2003
When Pigs Fly
Paris officials have a campaign to encourage Parisians to be more welcoming and friendly to tourists. Yeah, like that's gonna happen.
"Our reputation for unfriendliness is unfortunate, but I am sure we can get better," says Jean-Luc Michaud, president of the Ile-de France Tourist Board. "Already, I think the process has begun with the World Cup in 1998, during which we showed the world a friendly face. Now we hope to change attitudes still further, so that Parisians will soon be known throughout the world for their friendliness." And pigs might offer aerial trips round the Eiffel Tower, so some would say.
"You'll be lucky," laughs the man on the Eurostar check-in desk, when I tell him I'm off to search for smiling Parisians. "Tell me if you find any."
I was fortunate enough to spend a long weekend in Paris in the summer of '93 and felt entirely welcome...to get the hell out. A more rude bunch of people I've never encountered in all my travels....well except for the time I tried to spend my British pounds in a Dublin bookstore. (Legal, but apparently not socially acceptable. Typically rude American, I offered to take my "tainted" money elsewhere.)
One memory of my Paris visit pretty much typifies Parisian attitudes towards outsiders. Caught in a sudden downpour, my companions & I sought shelter under the awnings of a deserted sidewalk cafe. When the waiter discovered we weren't interested in ordering anything, he drove us back out into the rain like the American dogs that we were, with much shouting & waving of his towel. Missed a sales opportunity there, bucky. Supercilious asshat.
At the busy Barbes-Rochechouart interchange, though, one man did stop to gaze at the three posters. "What does it mean?" he complained, waving a contemptuous and slightly squiffy arm. "You - The Welcome Is - Franiliens." "You're reading it in the wrong direction," I replied.
Again, that cold, Parisian stare, cutting through the warm, arm-pitty breeze of the station. "It is the direction in which I was walking, monsieur," he replied stiffly. "And with your permission, I shall read it the way I like. After all, this is my city, not yours."
And you can have it. Just stop whining because your tourist numbers are dropping.
Posted by Rita at May 21, 2003 06:39 AM
Comments
Here the gratuity is included in the check....and the only place you receive poor service is in the tourist areas, (surprise?), and the service persons ask for extra tips.....We ate in a french-owned retaurant yesterday on the side of Volcan Poas and had the pleasure, (?), of pidgeon-sized omletes at $4.00 per, as well as, the hardest bread I have ever tasted.....Shut up and cut the mold off.....it won't hurt you....haven't you heard of penacillin?
I say it is proof that you take your culture with you, no matter where you go.....
Posted by: bill at May 21, 2003 10:10 AM
The Roller Coaster Clubs generally dislike going to French parks, because the French kids are entirely rude and take no notice of the queues, or the people in the queues. Barge, barge, barge.
I love Jacques Tati movies. They make Paris look so romantic and friendly. Talk about an alternative reality.
Posted by: Keith at May 21, 2003 02:16 PM
I dunno Bill, I loved Florence...culture was different, but the people were really nice & friendly. I want to go back.
Paris is beautiful Keith, just its citizens are generally rude. Romantic? Depends on whom you're with I guess.
Posted by: Rita at May 21, 2003 05:28 PM
I was referring to a phenomenon, in which, as you approach an area famous for tourism, the interaction between the tourists and the locals become strained. In general, the further away you are from tourist areas, the better you are accepted by Ticos.
Posted by: bill at May 23, 2003 10:44 AM