I found it, the apartment I think my family is supposed to buy for me as a surprise gift… Doubt it, but it’s a amazing gift full of TLC N’ est pas?
Balcony, and the size of the balcony tells me it’s at least a three piece apartment hiding there. Perfect!
Beside dreaming there is a late meeting today, so just like Monday I have to bike my way through Paris in the worst traffic and finally reach the gym when it’s more or less a war between people inside to get to the machines. Rush hour both in traffic and on the treadmills.
And I’m from a so called “neutral country” so war is not something I have on my C.V.
Let me paint you picture, or in the old “Golden Girls” Sophia way “Picture this…” – A Swede scan the gym to check who was there before him or her and when there is a machine free take his/hers place in the queue. Of course, not applicable in a gym, first look for the queue ticket machine. A French person on the other hand can come in, pass the queue without understanding why the Swedes waiting, look at them as they were gangsters in the middle of killing someone.
A French person in the queue (as if queue was a thing in France) will start to wave their arms like a windmill in a storm and express French words like “putain” and “merde” – then they scream at each other for 30 minutes and no one gets to start their workout. While the Swede still just stare really hateful.
The above is a short lesson in how to queue in France…