That Evening in Paris

Fuzair # 21

I think the degree of this problem is same all over the world. It is not nationality centric. May be we as a nation brag about it a bit too much since it is such an issue here. Civil Aviation Authorities cancel the Licences of such extreme cases. About a year back the Licence of a PIA pilot was also cancelled.

As for the traditional & habitual drinking habits, our friends from Central Asia enjoy this sport quite well.

Re: PIA pilots and drinking

I`m sure that Nazar Saab can supply more details but I`ve heard many horror stories about PIA pilots taking the throttle, if not exactly drunk, only one or two drinks short of it. One of my mamoo`s friends was a very senior PIA pilot who swore that he flew better drunk than sober. I hope he was just having us on; I`d hate to have been a passenger on that flight.... Hmmmm, given how bad a couple of landings were that I`ve experienced and how frightened the cabin crew looked, maybe the pilot was drunk!

Nazar Khan

Your travelogues and articles are such a pleasure to read. I really enjoyed this and I always look forward to reading your pieces. You write so well.

regards

NHK #12 couldnt agree more. a fool and his money are soon parted, particularly in strange cities. did i tell you about the time in bangkok where i was walking from my hotel to our branch office nearby? Car stops next to me, back door opens and sexy looking woman in back seat asks me if i would like to come with her.

This posed a real dilemma, since there was no consensus in the cabinet (comprising various parts of my body): The parts of the body whose job it is to make sexy women happy said ``What the hell are you waiting for, you fool. Get inside that car with the chick.``. That wet blanket called the brain said ``Dont listen to that stupid jerk you keep hanging around. You go with this woman, you idiot, and I promise you they will find your rotting carcass in some stinking bangkok ditch tomorrow morning.`` With much reluctance, I accepted the brain`s viewpoint and kept on walking (the car came up a second time, the woman tried again, but the brain told me to keep walking.

I was by my colleagues later on that this was a favorite bangkok way of ripping of out-of-town visitors (get `em in the car, let `em have some fun, then demand they empty their wallets).

#11, relax Irfan, who am I a hapless hindoo to impeach the lily white honor of Arab women (for I am sure if I had said Brazilian or Thai you would have nodded your head in acknowledgement, so keep your righteous indignation to your own good self)

Anyhoo, Another major desi area is around La Chapelle (which is not far from Gare du Nord so maybe is the same place Irfan is referring to)

I am sorry about the tone of my last interact, I regretted it the minute I pushed post :-(

Nazar sahab,

Jamal Ansari was my taaya. The person who wrote you is my father. I see we have lots to talk about!

Aamir

Ansari # 6

You did not tell me that you were brother of Jamal Ansari - a great person whose Parachute did not open when he ejected from a T-33. More on this when we meet.

That was a touching story.

IrfanHamid # 11

The Regulation is 8 hours between bottle and throttle. Some countries have 12 hours.

Few shots in the evening when you are flying next evening, I guess, is OK. My drinking is more as a rebellion against the norms of society rather than a strong urge for liquor. The urge to drink outside Pakistan reduces considerably since it is no issue anywhere else in world.(except some places like Saudi Arabia)

In most countries, now there are Indian or Pakistani ethnic shops which have tinned curries, Dals, Palaks etc. You also get chillies there. Similarly, now Pita bread is available almost all the world. So now there is no serious problem of availability of South Asian food abroad. It is only that they have kept their rates a bit too high.

As a poor alternate, there is always the peppered Stake & French hard bread.

nazarhayatkhan #5:

Never knew Paris had a reputation for pickpockets or conmen, even though I`ve been living here for quite a while now. One thing I DO know, if you are a tourist in Paris, try not to show it, because there`s a lot of guides (I wouldn`t call them conmen) who are ready to take you for a ride, literally.

As for daal and spices, next time you`re here, just take a Metro to Gare du Nord. Go out the main exit. Go left, turn right at the sex shop, keep walking until you reach a McDonald`s, then take a left. After a while, on your left will be rue de Strasbourg, lots of Pakistani restaurants there, really inexpensive too. I recommend the Lahori Restaurant.

bongdongs #7:

You start your post with ``Nazar saheb I think you are falling for some old european prejucies (sp?) when you say pickpocets are mainly Italian``.

And end it with ``Actually Nazar saheb Moroccan women have somewhat of a ``reputation`` and are highly valued by the oil-soaked sheikhs too. From the few I have known its a well deserved one :-)``. Are you suffering from a case of my-prejudices-are-more-valid-then-yours?

Pigeonholing people based on their nationalities is the most naïve and flat-out stupid thing a person can do.

Regards,
Irfan.

PS: Nazar sahib, aren`t pilots supposed to not drink before a flight?

Tahmed32 # 8

The well dressed men conning off innocent tourists is a very very familiar story. Mostly, it is the Bars where you are lured into. Pretty girls sit on your sides & pleasant small talk begins. You ask the girls ``What they would like to drink?``. they say ``Champagne``.

While the Bar Man gives them fake Champane, every one is interested in getting you tipsy.

Finally, the huge Bill comes. You are stuck. You empty your pockets, head for the hotel like a fool; and avoid even telling this story to the others.

Another rip off is when a pretty girl asks you to drop her at her place. And then she invites you in. From there on, you are fully cornered. There is hefty manpower around to get your pockets empty & dump you in front of the hotel.

Finally, there are the cases where you are lured for a good evening. You are drugged and your kidney gets removed.

So the moral of the story is to avoid lonely ventures into strange places - the result could be as dangerous as of Danial Pearl.

Fun read thanks. Is the info a little dated? My impression of france/italy is that its full of north-africans, romanis (gypsy), srilankan etc who are blamed for pick-pocketing. And french now consider germans as uncouth. Food in france is great though... even in simple bussiness-class hotels, the restaurants are good (compared to the typical marriot in the us). They do the best duck...red in the center like beef.

#8

For those who grew up in Mumbai, the pickpockets/conmen of Rome and Paris hold no great dangers!

bongdongs#7 rest assured that italians deserve the reputation of pickpocketing: my exboss had his wallet picked in an roman subway. my cousin had his travel bag (with passport) taken in a roman crowd (he was lucky and spotted the woman making off with it, and caught up with her and retrieved his property). And did i tell you about trevi fountain in Rome. Great tourist attraction and also inspired song ``Three coins in the fountain``. I was there back in 1996 or 87 in the evening after a daylong meetings, examing the map to decide my walking tour of the area. A well dressed middle aged man walks up to me, claims he is a brazilian businessman, starts chatting and invites me to join him at a nice place to eat with good music just round the corner - like a fool i join him, and soon realize that the ``nice place`` is a rip off joint (we were immediately met by two sexy looking women inside). I tried to leave and the manager appears and explains that i owe him entrance fee or something - i brushed them off and got out back in the crowds as fast as i could (while half expecting some mafioso type to come up).

Moral: When in Rome, dont do as the Romans do. And hang on to your wallet.

#5

Nazar saheb I think you are falling for some old european prejucies (sp?) when you say pickpocets are mainly Italian. Reminds me of an uncle who was visiting Switzerland in the `50`s. His swiss host kept telling him how all Swiss are well-off and there is no poverty in Switzerland. Once they were standing on the platform for the train (steam powered in those days) a swarm of labourers were filling water, loading coal etc. So my uncle asked ``so who are those people?`` ``Oh they`` the Swiss said with a dismissive air ``they are just italians``. So Naza saheb maybe you are falling for the ``they are just italians`` line...

About ladies of the night, I for some reason can never tell them out and remain the butt of my friends jokes. For some reason they never seem to approach me either (must be the bholi-si surat :-)). Actually Nazar saheb Moroccan women have somewhat of a ``reputation`` and are highly valued by the oil-soaked sheikhs too. From the few I have known its a well deserved one :-)

Nazar sahab,

A delightful read as usual. Looking forward to meeting you and hearing more of these traveller`s tales.

I hope you won`t mind, though, if I share this excerpt from a book I recently got. It`s also about Paris, but from a different perspective:


The French countryside in summer lives up to its reputation. As we sit outdoors in a little village about one hundred miles from Paris, the breeze brings us the scent of apples from the orchard next door. I have come here to meet Seba, a newly freed slave. She is a handsome and animated young woman of twenty-two, but as she tells me her story she draws into herself, smoking furiously, trembling, and then the tears come.

I was raised by my grandmother in Mali, and when I was still a little girl a woman my family knew came and asked her if she could take me to Paris to take care of her children. She told my grandmother that she would put me in school and that I would learn French. But when I came to Paris I was not sent to school, I had to work every day. In their house I did all the work; I cleaned the house, cooked the meals, cared for the children, and washed and fed the baby. Every day, I started work before 7 A.M. and finished about 11 P.M.; I never had a day off. My mistress did nothing; she slept late and then watched television or went out.

One day I told her that I wanted to go to school. She replied that she had not brought me to France to go to school but to take care of her children. I was so tired and run-down. I had problems with my teeth; sometimes my cheek would swell and the pain would be terrible. Sometimes I had stomachaches, but when I was ill I still had to work. Sometimes when I was in pain I would cry, but my mistress would shout at me.

I slept on the floor in one of the children`s bedrooms; my food was their leftovers. I was not allowed to take food from the refrigerator like the children. If I took food she would beat me. She often beat me. She would slap me all the time. She beat me with the broom, with kitchen tools, or whipped me with electric cable. Sometimes I would bleed; I still have marks on my body.

Once in 1992 I was late going to get the children from school; my mistress and her husband were furious with me and beat and then threw me out on the street. I had nowhere to go; I didn`t understand anything, and I wandered on the streets. After some time her husband found me and took me back to their house. There they stripped me naked, tied my hands behind my back, and began to whip me with a wire attached to a broomstick. Both of them were beating me at the same time. I was bleeding a lot and screaming, but they still continued to beat me. Then she rubbed chilli pepper into my wounds and stuck it in my vagina. I lost consciousness.

Sometime later one of the children came and untied me. I lay on the floor where they had left me for several days. The pain was terrible but no one treated my wounds. When I was able to stand I had to start work again, but after this I was always locked in the apartment. They continued to beat me.

Seba was finally freed when a neighbour, after hearing the sounds of abuse and beating, managed to talk to her. Seeing her scars and wounds, the neighbour called the police and the French Committee against Modern Slavery (CCEM), who brought a case and took Seba into their care. Medical examination confirmed that she had been tortured.

Today Seba is well cared for, living with a volunteer family. She is receiving counselling and is learning to read and write. Recovery will take years, but she is a remarkably strong young woman. What amazed me was how far Seba still needs to go. As we talked I realised that though she was twenty-two and intelligent, her understanding of the world was less developed than the average five-year-old`s. For example, until she was freed she had little understanding of time - no knowledge of weeks, months or years. For Seba there was only the endless round of work and sleep. She knew that there were hot days and cold days, but never learned that the seasons follow a pattern. If she ever knew her birthday she had forgotten it, and she did not know her age. She is baffled by the idea of ``choice.`` Her volunteer family tries to help her make choices. but she still can`t grasp it.

- from Disposable People, New Slavery in the Global Economy by Kevin Bales