The Wandering Foodie

Labour Day

I thought I was being slick. My credit card’s chip wasn’t working at the ticket machine and the tram was approaching. Oh well, I thought, it’s like the tram in Belgium, they rarely ever check the tickets. I hopped aboard, leaning back in the corner trying to look cool and normal.

I blinked once and was surrounded. Three men, their leather jackets giving off a distinctly secret agent vibe, whipped out their badges and official-looking shoulder sleeves.

“Monsieur, un ticket?” they asked.

I tried to play the confused tourist and feign confusion. No such luck – they spoke enough English to communicate the message – you’ve been busted, buddy and now you owe us 35 Euros. A hefty fee for not purchasing and validating a ticket. Thanks, tram police.

Suitably chastised, I paid up and went back to trying to enjoy the ride. I had to laugh – it had to happen sometime, I suppose and hey, I didn’t plan for the machine to not read my chip.

But it was okay, really. It is now long forgotten as I sit in a cafe in the 18th arrondissement, sipping a house red that could rival many fancy wines back home, enjoying classic Motown tunes played on the restaurant loudspeaker, and waiting for my dinner of roasted chicken to arrive. All around, the French are bustling about, eating, shopping, enjoying their National Holiday – May 1, Labour Day.

Don’t get me wrong, the Eiffel Tower is amazing lit up on a Paris night, Notre Dame stirs the heart, but it is this type of adventure and these moments are why I came to Paris. To truly get to know its people, to try its heart and commune with its soul.

Happy Labour Day from Paris.