I’m in Paris (the France one, not the Ohio version) where my girlfriend is in graduate school and my company has an office. I do not know any French whatsoever, nor do I even pretend to. I let my GF handle any and all communication, while I stand behind her like a mute brother. My complete inability to communicate or understand French and the Parisian insistence on not speaking English sometimes hinders me.
The other day at around 4 pm, the lady partner and I were sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower (which is rust brown and looks like it needs a good sandblasting in professional opinion, by the by), drinking some wine- which according to this picture, is against the law (I tend to drink where I’m not supposed to in other countries).
After a glass or two, nature began to run its course, so I wandered off while the GF studied. I can handle going to the “toilette” all by myself. What I originally that was a bathroom was a marionette theater, so I continued to walk around. There had to facilities somewhere close- I’m at the Eiffel Tower in one of the biggest cities in the world. I found a sign that said:
And then walked to the “WC”. There was a dark, ominous tunnel only one door into the WC,
and I wasn’t going to just go marching into some foreign bathroom (what if I put my foot under the wrong stall or something?), so I walked the quarter mile back to the GF to get some clarification.
I definitely wasn’t going to relieve myself outdoors in a country where I couldn’t communicate with anyone (I attract police in foreign countries like white on rice), so I trekked back to the WC. At this point, I was beginning to think that I was permanently destroying my bladder.
When I finally got back to the WC, excited about the upcoming relief, a lady was standing down in the dark tunnel. She wags a finger at me and shakes her head. I thought she was cleaning the WC (what the hell does that even mean?), so I hung out for awhile. After 10 minutes, I went down and try the door and it was locked. Apparently, like everything else in France, the bathrooms close at 5 pm.
I was desperate, so I started toward the Eiffel Tower because there had to a WC there. This was another quarter mile away. It also required crossing at least 2 busy streets (and seeing the ridiculous number of men who run in biker shorts in Paris). Crossing streets takes awhile in Paris because French drivers don’t care if they hit pedestrians. It’s like Frogger. If it’s in the street- no matter what- the drivers are not slowing down, or even swerving- they have places to be.
The Eiffel Tower has four giant legs, all of which have elevators and schwag shops; only one has a bathroom. I chose the exact opposite direction to walk and had to walk to entire base of the tower. Finally- FINALLY- I saw a sign that said “Toilets” (in English even!). I ran down and took care of business, but not before I took an awkward picture (at least for the guy in the picture) of the bathroom:
The hand dryers were incredibly weak, so I found other ways to dry my hands. At this point, I had been gone for over a hour from the GFer, who got worried and left to find me.
France is difficult for me to maneuver in.
