JB Paris blog
The week of the Le Mans 24 Hours is a special time and one that I eagerly look forward to. I first came to this great race when I was just four months old and have spent many more years here as both a spectator and competitor – so I can almost chart my progress from child, to teenager and then to adult from the cars that raced there, the age of the Hawaiian Tropic girls and how much more tiring the 24 hours gets as the years steal on.
This year I came in a couple of days early to meet my sister in Paris, which has turned out to be a brilliant move. We stayed in the amazing apartment of the parents of her first major boyfriend (of 20 years ago) who was both wealthy, connected and French – none of which were particularly important to me at the time, but as I found out when I got here – it means their home is on the edge of the Champs Alysee with views of the Eiffel Tower from the living room. Way to go Melanie – thank goodness those horny little Bell genetics paid off in the end!
But let me tell you a bit about my journey into the City.I arrived – jumped on the RER train into town and sat for the next thirty minutes staring at graffiti; anything that didn’t move for longer than five minutes has been painted on in the French suburbs, it’s amazing! And the odd thing is that because I can’t understand any of the writing it is almost very cool art, but when I say it is on everything I mean every bridge, wall, barrier, sleeping tramps and railcar. A cultural oddity but somehow stylish, because it’s, er, French.
Then I get in a cab driven by an old Frenchman – who as we drove through the first set of red lights, gave me a clue that this could be a fun ride. We then proceeded to get closer and closer to things around us until he eventually clipped some poor girl on her bicycle and pitched her off into the traffic behind us. I jumped out to view the carnage, which was thankfully minimal, and so my first spoken French since my arrival was “Are you alive?” Followed by me plopping her back on her bike and getting my shaken cab driver spurred into action to get my the final half mile to the destination. What a start to the trip!
However this whole Parisian driving thing is a sight to behold isn’t it? Its as though everyone got a different set of rules to the same game, were told anything goes, and yet had their vehicles charged with a magnetic charge that 99.9 percent of the time means that they come SO close to touching before they get repelled away only to veer off towards another vehicle. Spectacular, terrifying and yet once you get used to the impending disaster, somehow satisfying as you survive yet another journey!
So what did my sister and I do: hire bikes from these brilliant bikes rental kiosks that are all over the city. You simply get a token, chose a bicycle, wobble off to see the sights, find another set of the bike stands somewhere near your destination; click in your current bike until you have had lunch or whatever and then swipe in for another bike and head off again. All the time only paying for the time you had one on the road: Brilliant!
Of course, last night after dinner we couldn’t get a cab so we had the bright idea of using our tokens one last time and so at 1.30am this morning we were riding the wrong way down the embankment of the Seine in a rush of alcohol fuelled liberation!
That’s about it for now: I am heading down to Le Mans today to watch Scrutineering in the old city of Le Mans. It promises to be a great week and of course, being here once again covering the race for Speed is just a great time.
I will post some more video blogs when I get the time, but thanks for checking in!
A Bientot!
JB
