Another Lost in Translation Moment Makes an Interesting Tour (Bad Language Ahead)
Les Egouts de Paris: The Shittiest Tour You Can do in Paris
Yes, pun intended. And I am sorry for the bad language, I just couldn't resist. I made another mistake. At least this time I wasn't talking about Americans eating things they shouldn't be eating. No, this time instead of my ego suffering, it was just my nose, and a little bit of my gag reflexes. Yes, I thought I was going into one museum that I really wanted to see, turns out I got mixed up in the names and ended up in the worst smelling museum in Paris.
What I wanted to see were the catacombs. An underground museum filled with skulls and history sounded interesting to me. When my mom and I were in Paris last year, we tried to find it, but never did. Turns out we didn't walk far enough. When I went to Paris on Monday, I was determined to find the museum. The only problem was that I forgot the name of the museum. I thought it wouldn't be a problem since I would recognize it right away. How hard would it be to find a museum that is underground right next to the river? Turns out it is.
Then I came across a museum that was underneath the streets of Paris. I figured this had to be it. It was called Le Musée des Egouts de Paris. I figured this had to be it and that egouts means drainpipes. Not exactly. Egouts means sewers. Yes so I took a tour of all the shits of Paris. It started off informative. We walked around learning about the Paris water cycle, saw some machinery used, went through some clean, unused tunnels, and learned a little bit about Victor Hugo, the author of Les Misérables. But then I am suddenly met with a stench which indefinitely know is feces. No doubt about it. In order to continue to visit we had to go across a few bridges with dirty water underneath. I'll spare you the details of what was clearly in the dirty water, but they're sewers, so I think you get the picture. Immediately all us victims of this museum cover our mouths and noses to try and at least diminish the scent. It fails but it's better than the alternative. Well poops! I couldn't help but laugh at my mistake. It wasn't boring, it did have some interesting things, but it wasn't what I was looking for.
But I have to say, what I enjoyed the most were the American tourists. They made the most of the shitty situation by starting a sing along to the musical Les Misérables. It started off with one man singing "look down, look down, don't look 'em in the eye." Then a woman added with "I dreamed a dream of a life worth living." Then a younger man started singing "red, the blood of angry men, black, the dark of ages past, red the world about to dawn, black, the night that ends at last!" Then all of them say that they want everyone to sing along to the last one, and they start singing:
What I wanted to see were the catacombs. An underground museum filled with skulls and history sounded interesting to me. When my mom and I were in Paris last year, we tried to find it, but never did. Turns out we didn't walk far enough. When I went to Paris on Monday, I was determined to find the museum. The only problem was that I forgot the name of the museum. I thought it wouldn't be a problem since I would recognize it right away. How hard would it be to find a museum that is underground right next to the river? Turns out it is.
 |
| The Bridge Over the River Poop |
Then I came across a museum that was underneath the streets of Paris. I figured this had to be it. It was called Le Musée des Egouts de Paris. I figured this had to be it and that egouts means drainpipes. Not exactly. Egouts means sewers. Yes so I took a tour of all the shits of Paris. It started off informative. We walked around learning about the Paris water cycle, saw some machinery used, went through some clean, unused tunnels, and learned a little bit about Victor Hugo, the author of Les Misérables. But then I am suddenly met with a stench which indefinitely know is feces. No doubt about it. In order to continue to visit we had to go across a few bridges with dirty water underneath. I'll spare you the details of what was clearly in the dirty water, but they're sewers, so I think you get the picture. Immediately all us victims of this museum cover our mouths and noses to try and at least diminish the scent. It fails but it's better than the alternative. Well poops! I couldn't help but laugh at my mistake. It wasn't boring, it did have some interesting things, but it wasn't what I was looking for.
 |
| Information on Victor Hugo |
But I have to say, what I enjoyed the most were the American tourists. They made the most of the shitty situation by starting a sing along to the musical Les Misérables. It started off with one man singing "look down, look down, don't look 'em in the eye." Then a woman added with "I dreamed a dream of a life worth living." Then a younger man started singing "red, the blood of angry men, black, the dark of ages past, red the world about to dawn, black, the night that ends at last!" Then all of them say that they want everyone to sing along to the last one, and they start singing:
"Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!"
By the end all us English speakers were singing along, some louder than others. Nothing says Les Misérables quite like singing about hardships and revolution in a sewer. Thank you loud outgoing American family to make this the funniest oops tour that I've been on. I guess that how you make the most of a shitty situation. Yes, pun intended again. 
0 comments:
Comments? Questions? Advice? Let me know: