Je suis touriste?

This weekend I was a tourist. On Saturday evening we boarded the Bateaux Parisiens and set sale on the Seine, along with the hoard of foreigners, desperate to do everything truly "Parisienne."

Oh, tourism, it is such a strange phenomenon. We go away to an often far away and exotic location, trawl through guide books (promising to help us do and see everything we need to) in some anxious attempt to ensure we get an "authentic" experience, see how the locals eat, play, work, all the while making sure we tick off all the big sites and attractions that symbolise that place. Travelers are a strange species. The "sites" we must see are often the least symbolic and most inauthentic. And do not think that I am excluding myself from this description - I am often a self-confessed Lonely Planet junkie travelaholic. I know it is ridiculous, but at least I can analyse it and laugh at it. At least I'm aware of it, right?

This year in France, I reckon I can say with some self respect, that I am not (ok, not always) a tourist. But this weekend I was. I put on my corporate wife (well, almost wife) hat and went along to a corporate dinner cruise on the Bateaux Parisiens. Lets just say that I would not have wanted to have paid for it myself, but if someone else is paying, well, I'm not exactly going to turn down a free night out in Paris, even if it turns me into a tourist for the night.

Everything about it was cheesy; from the photographer who snaps away in your face almost as soon as you sit down at your table, and then at the end of the night brings around large glossy photos of you and your loved one kissing. Yuk! Imagine 400 photos of cutesy couples made to "now kiss" for the camera, aboard a tacky boat cruise amongst 398 other tourist couples. And, I could go on. Does anyone think that a show boat singer belting out "New York, New York" on a Paris night out is really "French"? Surely, not. My fear is that had I asked the question to my fellow cruisers on Saturday night, they might have answered positively.

Cheap wine and a huge bill tops off these sorts of nights out which make a killing off poor innocent tourists. It is almost extortion. Except that people love it! I never saw a bill, and don't know how much it costs, but I'd expect something like this would have cost in the vicinity of 100 Euros! I could think of a much better way to spend it on good food and wine in Paris. But as much as I criticise and moan, I have to admit I did take a few snaps of myself head superimposed in front of the Eiffel Tower with my iphone as we sailed past.

We dined on fois gras, duck l'orange, and chocolate gateaux. I had a concoction of cream, champignons and chestnuts - perhaps, an opportune time to tell you all (for those that don't already know) that I am not an eater of fois gras or duck or any of the animal species. Yes, a concept somewhat foreign to my French friends, but it is true, je suis végétarien. And, as much as I hate to admit it, je suis touriste. But at least, not all the time.

Merci,

Mel