Change is Good

So we have trekked about forty miles so far, consumed our own body weight in duck by-products, and have made the Metro subway system our complete bitch. Paris? Yeah, we've got this. However, there are some things I may never understand about this city.

I can buy a gigantic, two-litre bottle of natural mineral water in the most expensive, touristy part of the city for a measly thirty-one cents American. I can buy Jack Daniels whiskey for about 20% less than I can buy it directly from a liquor store in Tennessee, the state where it is distilled. I can use a kiosk in the lobby of the McDonalds here to order and pay for a happy meal in five languages and pick it up at the counter without having to know a word of French. And yet I can't trade a kidney for a cube of ice in this city. I know from experience that ice is not particularly popular in Europe, but I honestly believe Parisians, specifically, are more averse to floating chunks of ice than Titanic survivors. I suspect their transplanted organs are even delivered lukewarm.

I'm also having a hard time understanding the French disposition. We all know the stereotypes, and I have travelled to enough countries to know that national/ethnic stereotypes, in general, are about as useful as the morons that cling to them. And yet...yesterday, I wanted to shove an entire handful of Metro tickets down one French woman's crepe hole after she went all sacre bleu on me for just assuming that she could break my massive, 5.00 Euro note with my ticket purchase. When I gave her the 5 spot for a 3.10 fare, she demanded in angry French that I produce a .10 Euro coin to make her change-making job (in other words, her job) that much easier. While I patted down my pockets, providing her with the universal body language expression for "I have no coins," she actually yelled, in perfect English, "Hurry up." There was no one in line behind me, and I could tell she was using the power of her position and the safety of her locked glass booth to intentionally antagonize me. Because she still had both my tickets and my money, I was unable to show her another universal body expression that instantly came to mind.

After I took a few deep breaths, I remembered the number of times I've had similar irrational and unprovoked outbursts from employees of the Wayne County Register of Deeds or the City of Holly Building Department. This had nothing to do with being French. This had everything to do with being a civil servant. Another stereotype? Perhaps, but some things do appear to be more universal than others. C'est la vie.

Today we are off to do some shopping (note to self: bring exact change), and hopefully find another way to eat duck. I'm addicted. I'm going to have to find a Ducks 'r Us when we get back home or start ordering it from Amazon.