Chronicles from the metropolis part 1 - The New people of paris


Have you been around new people you have just met and been a bit scared of them? To the point where conversation is akward and you try so hard to cut the silence with a totally lame excuse of a joke? They look at you funny and although they look harmless you just don’t trust them. Well I know that feeling all too well, I am scared of new people. I am not scared of meeting them, meeting and making acquaintances I can do very well it’s the getting comfortable with them part that literally drive’s me boggers. Unlike my blood brothers Immz and Alex, I am a bit of a socially challenged Geek; Call me paranoid but divulging information about me spontaneously goes against my natural protective instincts. Interactions with people are not my thing. 

Which makes this rather interesting, how would I cope if there were virtually millions of new people and they where virtually everywhere? Well that particular nightmare has come to life and I have no choice but to face my fear of new people. I have now relocated to Paris (Right now the ladies are going Gaga, Paris; city of love and romance); yes I know that I am a lucky bugger.


The New people, so many of them

 
So the other day I am going to work (Were late, because of Helena as usual, Women!), and I can’t help but be disturbed by the skyscrapers and towers. It does not feel real, I feel like I am in the Matrix. I keep looking around for agent Smith. By the end of the day I had met more new people then I had encountered in the 9 months I was in Nancy, my spidy senses are going haywire and they spiral out of control when I discover that I have to move my luggage through the Metro (Underground trains, white people are creative), with all those millions of new people, in Windhoek that would amount to a 290% chance of getting jacked. But I was banking on the hereditary gentleness of the French people, surely I can’t get jacked by one person while a hundred others stand and watch right?

La defense, this is where i work (hard to believe sometimes)
 
After a helter skelter sequences of sprints past vendors, homeless guys (yes there are street people in Europe, movies don’t lie all the time) and thousands of new people I am about to catch my last connecting train when I am faced with 3 descending staircases. Panic starts to kick in and I play the scenario’s over in my head; now if I carry the suitcases down one by one, will there still be there when I get back? I couldn’t believe that it had come to this, I was going to have to ask one of the new people to help, and I was riddled with terror. To my surprise this nice lady introduces herself in English and offers her help, after 5 seconds of mental deliberation I give her one bag and I take the other two, it turns out that she shares my fear of new people. So I gave her a thank you hug (She was shocked coz French people don’t hug, must be why they always look sad and tired) and was on my way to my apartment.

After a panic phone call to my landlord and asking directions from 20 people who all gave me stupid directions (New people suck at directions) I decide to go left instead of right and it turns out that I was just across the street from the address. She (My landlord) says I have to carry my bags to the sixth floor so I spend 10 minutes sweating, huffing and pulling my bags up the stairs. I get to the top of the stairs with the last bag when she screams MERDE! (French Version of shit), I inquire as to what transpired and she replies that the door just shut and the key is inside and the only way to open the door from outside is with a key. I calmly ask “can I please have a spare then?” to my absolute horror she states that she does not have a spare for my apartment. At that moment I take of my sweat dripping shirt, lie down and start meditating while silently cursing and yelling profanity in my head.



She offers me her couch for the night and kindly makes me some dinner, which I attack like a hungry lion while fending off her questions of where I am from, what do I do? How did I get my hair the way it is and so forth and so forth (New people always ask questions)? So on my 2nd night in Paris I end up sleeping on a very uncomfortable couch, wondering to myself what is to become of me at the mercy off all these new people. Rest assured that I will keep everyone informed, till next time, beware of new people!

Areva tower, 43 floors all built from uranium money, im on the 5th floor
The View from my apartment window, was checking out white chicks down below.

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