I hadn’t learned yet about traveling with Pelle, so I ended up on an overnight train with him from Zurich to southern France. We prepared for the long trip by bringing two coolers full of beer and a bag of potato chips. In hindsight it’s pretty obvious why the two Swiss girls we were sharing the sleeping compartment with were horrified. I don’t think there was a sound from two top bunks the entire trip, and they tiptoed out early. So we stole their pillows hoping the SNCF would blame them instead of us.
Travel Writing
USA Today had a story that U.S. airlines will continue to cut back on their domestic schedules even though demand continues to increase. On the surface this cutting costs looks like the time-honored technique used by lazy and/or unimaginative managers to help the bottom line. However, one thing I gleaned from my Economics 101 class is the law of supply and demand, which is; lower supply plus higher demand equals rising prices.
Thinking of driving in Paris. My tip: don’t. It’s an unforgiving place. If you take a wrong turn, you’re hosed, and if you never been there before, you will take a wrong turn.
And if you think driving too tough, try parking.
For Innes’ stag do, following in the footsteps of Ernest Hemingway and Scott Fitzgerald -- drinking, not writing -- I spent far too long at Harry's New York Bar in Paris. It’s a welcoming American style bar in Paris where the Bloody Mary was “invented”. Don’t know if that’s true but they’re damn good… every last one of them.
Harry's New York Bar 5 rue Daunou 75002 Paris
There are so many pretty girls in Paris; at one point last night I thought my head was going to snap off. After dinner, a friend and I went to Place Mouffetard, near to where he’d gone to school.
Several small Bistros surround a little square with a raised center that looks like it should have a fountain. This is a meeting point for local students. Like covered wagons, bikes and mopeds form an almost solid barrier around the seating places in the middle, and there are a couple garbage bins buried among the bikes. As I’ve never seen the locals’ use one, these bins are presumably for the tourists.
