In Austria, they want you to taste the bread. In France, they want you to taste what is ON the bread.

This is a quote from a friend of mine... I was remarking on how good the bread in Austria tasted. This was after being almost poisoned by some questionable schnitzel at the canteen of the Tiroler Landestheater in Innsbruck... I am sorry for the delay in blogging, but finding an internet café in Paris is quite the challenge! Stores that sell nothing but goose fat? No problem.
Ateliers that custom make robes for the French Supreme Court? Done. When you do find an internet café, it is disconcerting to discover that they keyboards are completely different. So, a quick message takes forever, and ends up something like this: Hi mqm, I xm in Pyris....
DID I MENTION I WAS IN PARIS? I arrived on the overnight train from Strassbourg, and stepped out onto the street. It was still dark, and I was in front of what looked like l'arc du triomph. How fortuitous, I though. Well, I saw about 4 other similar monuments, when I realized that the French really like triumphal arches... I finally found the REAL arc de triomph, and it was quite the sight. I began to wonder about the French... how they keep building huge triumphal monuments to all the wars they have lost.... anyway, I am sure there have been books written about that. Paris is overwhelming. It is hard to believe that so much beautiful stuff is one place, but there it is. And Paris and Parisians will never let you forget that Paris is the centre of the world and you and I, mere mortals, are privileged to even breathe the same air. Perhaps this is why a continental breakfast on the Faubourg St. Honoré costs about 50 dollars. I am not kidding. I also found it interesting that the Presidential Palace is accross the street from the Versace store. Who is REALLY the head of state? Donatella Versace or Jacques Chirac? I decided to come here at the last minute. Yesterday at this time I was in a little town in Alsace... and I came here with no place to stay, and no map, and I survived. I am staying at a youth hostel in Monmartre. Monmartre is the Paris you read about. Little stores selling perfect food, and perfectly dressed couples walking arm in arm. Paris also has more police than I have ever seen. And the people downtown are creatures from a different planet. I think they were all born wearing designer suits. The men are 6'1 with slicked back brown hair and sharp features. The women are the same, but they wear suits. After a few stops on the metro, the people start looking normal again. It is true what they say. There is Paris, and then there is the rest of France.

When I arrived in Europe, I went to Austria, which was nice. Until you hear the people speak and realize that they have the same accent as Hitler. This isn't so bad, really, but when you combine this with people wearing lederhosen in front of street signs written in German gothic lettering, talking beside street signs that say 'Austria must remain free', it is sort of disconcerting. I am sure the people are very nice, though. Here is the main difference between France and Austria:
In Austria, if someone has to perform a minor task, they will look determined. Even if they only have to buy a loaf of bread, they will walk with purpose to the bus stop, and wait nervously until the bus arrives. In France, a woman could be delivering the secret of the H bomb to the Iranians, and you would think that she is going to the hairdresser, or on a date, or on some secret rendez-vous that only she and her lover know about. There are more differences, but I am out of time! Salut!