How I paid 6 euros for a crêpe with sugar (part 1)

Last Monday, that guy came to talk to me as I was having a cup of coffee at the gym, just before leaving.

Dutch, 30-ish, tall, lean, well-dressed (you would emphasize that as well if you were living in the Netherlands), named Wouter (apparently, it is the Dutch equivalent of Walter, but every time I hear this name I giggle like a school girl because of all the nasty jokes that come to my mind)(Wout Wout, in the boutt).

I explained that I had lived almost al my life in Paris but that my roots were from Brittany.

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I will just interrupt my story a few seconds to enlighten you.

That, reader, is the perfect combo to get laid whenever you want when you are abroad. Here’s why:

-Most of the time, saying you are French is enough. However, when people ask from where you are exactly (which is a dumb question since they only know Paris, Bordeaux and Cannes (but don’t even know where it is on a map)), chances is they will not know Sucy-en-Bry, Poitiers, or Montelimar, and you will awkwardly spend the next 5 minutes trying to explain a location on an imaginary map, on the bar counter, even though nobody, not even you, cares about your 20.000 inhabitants provincial town.

-Therefore, saying you are from Paris will often do the trick. the Eiffel tower, fashion, that Woody Allen movie with time travel and the painters… They either have been there or wish they had. The city of love. You can just ask if they live nearby and pretend to be curious about their neighborhood.

-But some will not give a shit about Paris. Too crowded, too big, with rude waiters and taxi drivers, and shop assistants, and… Well, ok, we are all rude to tourists. In our defence, they walk so very slowly, take ages to decide what they want and where to go, they make us uncomfortable with our English accent and they dress as if they wanted deliberatley to make our eyes puke… So you may get a “Oh I’ve been to Paris once, I did not like it”. And because Paris is so great to live in, you will spend the next 3 hours talking about how Paris is the fucking shit, and tourists just know the places where Parisians NEVER go to (seriously, there is nothing to do around the Eiffel Tower).
Mentioning Brittany, or just Bretagne will charm those idiots who don’t like Paris who may have been disappointed by Paris. They will have heard of crepes, Asterix, or Dutch and Germans will have been camping there a few years ago. And almost everyone knows where to put Bretagne on a map. If they can’t, they imagine you are half French and half English, so they will think you are even more exotic, if you say you are from Finistere to Spaniards, they will talk to you about their own Finistere since it is also the name of that part of Spain just above Portugal.

So, when I said I was from Paris and from Bretagne, I knew that Wouter was ripe.

But look, I must go to work and I don’t have the time to finish my story right now.

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Categories: Me, Myself and I | 1 Comment

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One thought on “How I paid 6 euros for a crêpe with sugar (part 1)

  1. 😀

    Like

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