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#travelling in europe
nevzatboyraz44 · 1 year
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mechanical tools have been replaced by artificial intelligence digital tools.
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mekanik aletler yerini, yapay zeka dijital aletlere bıraktı.
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dixt · 2 months
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bathtub in château laurens, france
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harrison-abbott · 6 months
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A Trip to Paris - Part II
Let’s head a walk along the Seine.
Chilly this morning; and the sky hasn’t quite woken up yet.
You get to the river and go down from the cranky main road
And onto the esplanade.
This is arched over by the many bridges, old and new.
The Seine’s water is grey and mucky when you see it up close.
Across the far bank side are people living in tents.
And on this side, under the bridges, are further folks,
Dazed and covered in a mix of cardboard and plastic,
Almost as if there weren’t bodies within those sleeping bags.
Makes you wonder just how many people across Europe
Are homeless … and it’s quite the ghastly thing to imagine.
In various moments there are locked-off holes in the main wall
Of the bank side, that, when you look through the bars,
Guess of spookiness and metal objects and masonry
That sift off into blackness.
The sun is burgeoning a little and the clouds ushering askance.
After forty minutes you come around the wynd on route, and,
Yes – there it is – what your destination is:
That tower that pretty much anybody on the planet knows
Or will know or has known from countless films books television
Shows – all conjured from architectural iconography.
You’re not quite close enough yet and so you yomp nearer,
Across the bridge and into the park under the tower.
And look up at it.
Within the lower innards of the tower are these intricate
Mazy stairwells that wind up and there are working men
In crimson coats needling up them in small scale.
Around the tower you go, and take some photos.
As you’re holding the camera this woman approaches you.
She asks you where you’re from and you tell her and she
Seems nice, and she’s also holding a clipboard, and what
Happens next all happens very fast;
She claims to be from a charity for deaf children
And gets you to fill out your name and country and
Several details on the paper she’s holding and the pen
She gave you and you ask her what this is for?
And you don’t quite think this is right, seems a bit
Fishy and so you don’t put your proper details on the
Page as you don’t want to sign up for things that
You don’t fully comprehend.
Oh – and then she asks for a donation.
Money. She’s after money.
She might be working for a charity. Might not be.
You remember a similar scam in a tourist area in Milan,
Where these guys would force a bracelet on your wrist,
Without you asking, and then they would ask for money.
I.e., that’s the way they make a living, and it’s not
Particularly honest.
“Oh, you didn’t say that at the start,” you say, a little embittered,
But you give her a coin anyway.
And then head off.
And moments later there’s this ping at your legs,
Accompanied by the woman hissing “Oh, that’s crazy.”
She’s just thrown the coin back at you, and when you
Turn around, she has stormed away.
You pick up the coin. Put it back in your wallet. And head on.
Get the Metro back to your hotel.
Odd how a hotel in a foreign city you’ll only know for
A few days can exude the sense of home.
Need some groceries for later. So you bout out down to the shop.
The store you chose last time was a bit expensive so you
Figure to try a new one this time farther down the street.
And get there and go in.
You wander about inside for a while and because it’s
A new joint you don’t know where everything is.
So it takes you a while but you eventually go to the counter.
Where a clerk is serving other folks in a fumbling fashion.
He looks at you as you bring the items before him, and keeps
The stare there. And you’ve always found it hard to be looked
At – or to meet other people’s eyes – as natural shyness has
Been a part of your life your entire life.
But you just hand over the Euros for the items.
He’s saying something to you in French so you say “Sorry?”
And then he mumbles some English.
He points to your backpack.
You don’t get what he means.
Until he says, “Can I see inside?”
And you just think oh for Christ’s sake.
You open your backpack and show him the empty
Bag inside it … because that’s why you brought
An empty backpack to the shop: to fill it with food.
“Sorry,” he says. And then he completes the transaction.
He thought you were stealing.
You wonder why a person such as yourself would
Give off the vibe of a thief …
And it’s hard not to get angry when people suspect you of such things.
But it’s often better to avoid confrontation and just prove that
You didn’t steal anything, and perhaps make the other person
See that they’re in the wrong.
At the same time: when he apologised, he wasn’t sorry at all.
Fuck it. Let’s go home.
On that walk home you get shat on by a pigeon.
Shit you not – that’s what happened;
After that dodgy lady next to the Eiffel Tower
And this clerk who has just searched you in a supermarket:
This Parisian pigeon decides to take a shit on you, plopping
Its liquidy white poop on you from a hundred yards above.
You feel it with a hard plop on your back.
Taking the coat off, the mess is quite impressive.
Wipe it off with tissues.
At least this third incident is quite funny.
Back to the hotel. Relax for a while.
When the evenings you figure to head to a different part.
Northwards.
Where there’s a canal that rulers through the city.
As you go, Paris reminds you very much of London;
That similar notion of intensely cramped population;
With so many people whizzing about at once:
And you really have to keep careful with the thrashing traffic.
On the way, you happen to pass the Bataclan.
Which you know only from those insane attacks that happened
Eight years ago, almost to the week.
Now, the venue is only that, with the doormen standing outside,
Chatting to each other.
It’s a mad thing to think that on this spot there happened
This sublime murderous event and that now there are no signs
Of that at all … and you imagine that, 8 years ago, on that manic night
This whole part of the city would be cordoned off,
Or teeming with running people, police cars, etc etc.
The canal is nice. Yes, sure; and it’s sunset time now
And the pink light plays across the area.
On the little bridges that cross the canal are
Love padlocks
(is that what you call them?)
Clung to the railings.
Left by young fanatical naïve lovers in the past.
Getting dark to let’s return to the hotel.
Those ambulance sirens again …
That wailing seesaw noise jouncing in the overhead volume.
This is quite the racy metropolis indeed.
Tired, tonight.
Get some sleep in and we can explore elsewhere
In the daylight tomorrow.
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lsleofskye · 6 days
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Alpe di Suisi | rosenfeld.mandy
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allthingseurope · 1 month
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Dordogne, France (by alh1)
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iko66 · 3 months
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Norway
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~ Gold and Gray ~
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Roses decorating Casa Navàs (built 1901-1908) in Reus, Camp de Tarragona, Catalonia.
Photos by amiplim on Instagram.
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Dolomites - South Tyrol - Italy (by Louise Feige)
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visitheworld · 5 months
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Aggstein Castle / Austria (by Silber Balazs).
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dixt · 1 year
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utrecht, the netherlands ⋅ ph. utrechtalive 
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daily-spooky · 3 months
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lsleofskye · 10 months
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Lupines in bloom | roksolyana_hilevych
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allthingseurope · 1 month
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Siena, Italy (by Patrick)
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iko66 · 3 months
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England
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natures2travel · 1 month
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Beautiful Switzerland 🇨🇭
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