PARIS, FRANCE

ADIEU

Left Paris after three days and three photos from my hostel window, Peace and Love, at 245 Rue LaFayette. The ad says it is ten minutes' walk from Gare du Nord. Don't believe it. Unless the ad is directed to Olympic walkers.

My trip to Paris would have been a total disaster had I stayed in a hotel.

First of all, Paris had been my hope to get a copy of the LP La vie de Boheme, published in 1969 by BYG Actuel in Paris itself. I had some luck the first day when a very pleasant and helpful guy in a record store gave me two addresses. They were touted as just about the most knowledgeable folks in the jazz field.

I walked several miles finding these guys. The one I hoped would help me most, gave me about two minutes before dismissing me. The other, whose door is closed, wouldn't even pay me any attention, until I pressed the information to the door window and he came, looked, and said no.

Every building of note that I saw, I saw merely by chance. For example, the Sorbonne, just happened to show up on my left while looking for record stores, with Montaigne seated across the street. Admirers hands' have polished his shoes to quite a shine.

I seem to be running out of steam and will not be going into the kind of detail that you have become accustomed to. There are still stuff in my head that I don't have the energy to flush out.

But Peace and Love sort of saved the day. I checked into this tiny room on thre 4th floor and spent the night alone.

The following day I was shifted to room 1, which was occupied by two people. First, I met Jamie, a young student from British Columbia, Canada, who was venturing on his first big trip. Initially, we spoke about how to remember names and agreed that one way was to repeat it during conversation.

Jamie had seen visited some interesting cities along the way, but that brought him no satisfaction when he realized that he had brought along any pictures of his family. He was visibly sad when he explained that to me. Wow! Wanted to travel along, but just, in some way, didn't want to leave his family behind.

Then, later, I bumped into a guy downstairs who asked if I was Patrick. Turned out to be Hardy, a young man from Australia. He is hardy in more ways than one, riding around Paris on a rented bicycle, had lived in Korea for about 15 months, had been to a bunch of places, and was quite a pro at being on the road and surviving very well at it. The first thing that Hardy said was that I had the choice of the lower bunk. Jamie had a mattress on the floor. The room was so tiny that, as slender as Jamie is, he had to suck in his stomach so I could pass between him and the wash basin in the room.

(Call this part one)

Patrick Barry Barr