An Indian Werewolf in Paris

It's been a long time since I've posted... a lot of interesting experiences in the last one month or so. I had been to France on a 18-day visit, as an "Identity Management Consultant" for a manufacturing company headquartered in Paris.

My experience of Paris, and the French culture itself was quite exhilarating... the mind was constantly challenged to parse and comprehend all the spoken French around me - it was greatly satisfying when I could actually make sense of something that was being said. My elementary knowledge of French helped of course - but not always. I tried ordering pasta over the phone by calling a pizza shop - and this guy, after letting me speak for a few minutes describing what I need, finally said 'Sir, I do not understand you' in English.

Being a vegetarian was quite a challenge in the office cafeteria. My usual lunch was some boiled veggis, mashed potatoes, a bowl of assorted fruits, and a yogurt (my favorite: Yoplait with blackberries). At my hotel (more about that place later), I would have MTR Ready-To-Eat dishes - quite ordinary stuff, and I would often long for home food. I did dare to try different regional cuisines. One day in our cafeteria, it was all Moroccan specialities, and I found this broken wheat dish, on which one would add a veggi sauce - it was ok, but a bit on the bland side.

There was this Lebanese restaurant I found tucked away in one of the buildings near my office. Now this guy wouldn't speak English, and so I managed to convey to him that I am vegetarian, and asked if he had anything I could eat. He pointed at some green cylindrical stuff in a bowl. He described it as rice stuffed in leaves marinated in vinegar. I was hungry, so I asked him to give me that. He proceeded to place some 5-6 green cylinders in a chappati (well, it tasted like a chappati - it was a tortilla), and heated it up in a microwave, and gave it to me. It was actually good! This guy asked me if I'm a Pakistani - and I said, no I'm from India. His face immediately lighted up, and said 'Shammi Kapoor!' - he had seen some Shammi Kapoor movies long time back in Lebanon!

Then this other day, I walked into this place specializing in Crêpes - essentially pancakes, like our dosas. Here again, I explained that I am a veggi, and this lady topped the dosa with every vegetable she had. It was good - but very filling.

On the subject of food, one thing that really surprised me is the bread. It usually gets served on your table when you walk into a restaurant, with some cheese gratings on the side. In one Italian restaurant off Ave de Champs Élysées (where I spotted Leander Paes, that being the French Open tennis season), I was given this incredibly hard bread - I really needed a chisel and a hammer to make some progress with it. Who eats this stuff?!

Mineral water is a big industry here. There are so many brands, in varying prices. In this slightly classy restaurant I went to, the waiter brought me a bottle, and showed it to me, holding it in his hand like one would display wine before uncorking. I said, dude, just give me plain water - I don't want any of this fancy l'eau minerale stuff. Well, I didn't exactly say dude, but I was pretty exasperated at the thought of having to pay for water!

I was in a low-budget hotel during my stay in Paris - 'low' relatively, at 104€ per night, compared to around 200€ at other hotels nearby. The weather was rather cold when I arrived in Paris - around 5C in the night, and 15C in the day. To my surprise, I realized after I checked into this hotel that they didn't have heating! When I enquired with the reception, I was told that they were in a 'summer' mode, and would offer only cool air, but no warm air. It was pretty cold in the room. Thankfully I had taken some winter wear. So there I was, wearing thermals, pyjamas, a woollen hat, and thick socks - in my hotel room. That was a rather tough experience.

In the last few days of my stay there, it got really warm - to the lower 30s, and it became very pleasant. It was interesting to see how the people's work attire changed with the weather. The women here normally have greater variety in what they wear to work. When the temperature rose, they suddenly switched to their "summer" wear, like flowers blooming in spring. The men continued to wear their standard suits and ties, but the women, ummm let's say, got liberated :)

My hotel was very close to the Seine - and I could see the river from my 11th-floor window. And at a distance, I could see the Eiffel Tower, it's beacon revolving in the night - and the shimmering lights that get turned on for a few minutes every hour. In the night, alone in my hotel room, I would sometimes sit at the window, and look outside at all the lights, and the flowing traffic below me... the loneliness was hard sometimes - being away from my wife for the first time in our life together.

The laundry service in the hotel was absurdly expensive. Three euros to get a single underwear washed? It's crazy. But I had no other options. Hopefully I can convince my company to pay for this!

I heard picking pockets is a lucrative métier in all Paris tourist locations, and trains. There are signs everywhere, in several languages, warning people to be aware of pickpockets. Especially in places like the Louvre, where people would get engrossed in looking at art, forgetting all else.

The French have a very delightful sense of humor. When at my hotel, I would turn the TV on to some channel, and leave it on. I loved the ads - there's always some subtle humor, or gag which one must recognize to understand the ad. Ofcourse, they're not always politically correct.

There was this cartoon stuck to the window of the coffee area at my client's office. It's this boss telling his cleaning lady at work "Vous vous rendez compte que vous me coûtez plus cher que mes informaticiens de New-Delhi" translated as "You realize that you are to me more expensive than my programmers in New-Delhi"! Now, I don't think they anticipated an Indian seeing that in their office... :)

With all this immersion in French culture and language, an interesting thing happened when I got back to India. In the Mumbai International Airport, I asked a cop directions to the shuttle to the domestic airport. He asked, 'Do you have the tickets?' in Hindi, and I replied instantly 'Oui!'. He just stared at me, and then I realized that I was not in France anymore...

Btw, for the record, I am not really a werewolf. Feel free to check me out on full moon nights.