Although I drove hard, both teams were late. It wasn’t until 12 o’clock at night that we were at Parijis Pohjoo station, that is, as the French say, at Gaard dy Noord. You don’t really know, because you came to Paris in a hurry, when you had already been in the great city for at least two hours before the train stopped. Then we put the bags and the bags in our hands, now we put our pants up in the cabin, and so we put our eyes on the train with a pin that you always paint so that
— Hoo-oh soo-oh, Is this the world-famous Paris —
There were a lot of people and we had to get mixed up and we almost turned behind you when the whole station hall was full of very ordinary people who were cheering and shouting:
— Hey hey hey, long live Suami! — Welcome to town! — What a day!
Ook säki Has Jaakkoo come? — Hello man, what’s up with Vaasa? — —
Peijakas viäkhon, I went all the way under the bench, where there was no immigrant to Paris. I took my pick so that I could shout or something great with the other tip and say to:
— Ai dunt noo, wat jusej! — Parlee vu or frangseeta, boys of Perttana, when you’re in Paris! — After all, you can always talk about that kind of stuff at home too —
We were in the situation ahead of time, so that I wouldn’t have to try anything but take the car and say to:
— Hotel Reshinaa, Ryy Masagraan, give it a shot, dude!
I learned the name and address of this hotel from Mösjöö-Tommila with my friend in such good, pure French that it went naturally. No matter what the wind was like, there was nothing else to do but to take the car and enjoy the words — the worse they were, the worse they were — so they always came and drove to their hotel.
We were so tired from the trip that as soon as we got to the hotel, we went to bed so tight and snored a little hard, so it’s true that in the morning my nose was sore and swollen from the vibration, but then again, we were cool boys. And right from the morning we set off to cover the city, and it was a big one. We had four days to circle and cover and we took it really thoroughly. Meirä’s brother-in-law went every diligently, clos all the departments. But it was strong and you could keep the house in a hurry if you didn’t want to before I had to leave in the morning. Sometimes we were so tired that we didn’t want to go up the stairs. The porter had to pay several pounds.
Yes, it must be said that Paris is a different village after all. The area is said to be 78 square kilometers and its suburbs are said to have around 5 million inhabitants; I’m almost twice as big as the whole Suames. From that you can guess what kind of hissing and buzzing there is in the barren country. The largest park streets are called boulevards, and there are many of them. You can go shopping on the same street every hour, and there seems to be no end in sight. A person on foot can’t take long kicks there, and for that you use trains, trams, buses, underground electric tracks, which are very noisy and life-threatening. But soon you will be able to get from one side of the city to another with them and not be blamed for being expensive. The so-called »taxis», i.e. taxi cars, of which there are tens of thousands, are very comfortable. The base fee is 75 centimes, the Suamen currency is 1:50 FIM, and the fee is always 20 centimes for the journey. With such a fast and comfortable car, you can cover many kilometers for 10 Suamen marks, so driving a car there is much cheaper than here. But the general way is to give the driver about 10 percent of the gratuity.
The use of change is so common in Paris, so that the Suamalan didn’t block the dirty hoksataka to whom those coins should be postponed. But you don’t need to be afraid that there will be a scandal, yes, they each keep their money and remember to demand their share. They take it really hard if you can’t give it. They say, what is it, sir, just pay it off. When you go to the theater, a restaurant, a variety show, or just about anything else, there’s always something flying, even if you take a cap, a jacket, or an umbrella. He is very polite, bows and smiles in order to say: please — and such a stranger knocks on the master’s house so that he squeaks. And leaving the back, the back is bowed again and it’s slanted so that it’s full moon — and hips in hand!
There’s a lot of doorknobs and lots of pretty and cool girls; who toss their tails and catch their eyes so sweetly that Money Bag wants to jump out of the man’s placard himself and pack some too much money for the put-off flika. Please wave your hand and say:
— Come after you soon!
And many come, and not for nothing, until they learn the way of Paris. Theaters are special actors, and you can’t thank them, no matter how cheeky. Marks off only and a hard grip too. If you don’t immediately move your butt a little, they will raise the noise so that everyone’s mouths will open to the ceiling so that:
— What kind of a fool is he who doesn’t want to pay the flika?
• Yes, you serve very hard there and you are a drunkard for the wallet. And since the foreigners, who have come there to be meeker and more wrinkled, have money, so what’s the point of letting the bills fly, let’s get new ones from the bank every morning. And it’s fun. And many.
That’s how I liked it, because the whole of Paris was made and decorated just for foreign affairs. There aren’t many French people, so Ilonpiroos is included. They only take care of the ruljans and the roof, so that the foreigners are happy and warm. All those innumerable art museums, palaces, gardens, operas, variety shows, circuses, dance salons and if some places of amusement and pleasure are only foreign affairs. And that’s how it is, so that hundreds of thousands of different nationalities go there, covering the mountains around and mesmerizing. New York is nothing to an American, you have to go to Paris from there because it’s really dirty. On that side is the blessed »taire», under the name and guise of which you can do whatever you like. After all, there is of course a serious and silly street in Paris, a street in Samoo, but it’s a lot of fun and noise. I’m the main thing. Paris s’oon suaraha’s words are simply a mush of worldly concoctions. Morality and decency seems to be a bare-knuckle piece of shit. Let everyone take care of their affairs and their books as they like, the authorities won’t interfere and there won’t be any obstacles. Even in the middle of the night, and it’s a real day in Paris, you can see a happy group walking down the middle of the street, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. The policeman is covering his head, the light shines from his eyes and he beats the beat with his cap. Life in a hotel is just as free in its own way. It’s not exactly a sacrifice there, even if Torvet is bleeding from ten throats, and Anssin-Jukkaaki from the bottom of the syräm is about to start in the morning. Morality and decency seems to be a bare-knuckle piece of shit. Let everyone take care of their affairs and their books as they like, the authorities won’t interfere and there won’t be any obstacles. Even in the middle of the night, and it’s a real day in Paris, you can see a happy group walking down the middle of the street, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. The policeman is covering his head, the light shines from his eyes and he beats the beat with his cap. Life in a hotel is just as free in its own way. It’s not exactly a sacrifice there, even if Torvet is bleeding from ten throats, and Anssin-Jukkaaki from the bottom of the syräm is about to start in the morning. Morality and decency seems to be a bare-knuckle piece of shit. Let everyone take care of their affairs and their books as they like, the authorities won’t interfere and there won’t be any obstacles. Even in the middle of the night, and it’s a real day in Paris, you can see a happy group walking down the middle of the street, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. The policeman is covering his head, the light shines from his eyes and he beats the beat with his cap. Life in a hotel is just as free in its own way. It’s not exactly a sacrifice there, even if Torvet is bleeding from ten throats, and Anssin-Jukkaaki from the bottom of the syräm is about to start in the morning. you can see a happy group walking down the middle of the street, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. The policeman is covering his head, the light shines from his eyes and he beats the beat with his cap. Life in a hotel is just as free in its own way. It’s not exactly a sacrifice there, even if Torvet is bleeding from ten throats, and Anssin-Jukkaaki from the bottom of the syräm is about to start in the morning. you can see a happy group walking down the middle of the street, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. The policeman is covering his head, the light shines from his eyes and he beats the beat with his cap. Life in a hotel is just as free in its own way. It’s not exactly a sacrifice there, even if Torvet is bleeding from ten throats, and Anssin-Jukkaaki from the bottom of the syräm is about to start in the morning.
“It’s fun, sir,” says the butler, and he doesn’t want to pick up the money, because he’s thinking about the money when the gentlemen are leaving. — And that’s not what gentlemen think about.
There are hotels in every other house in Paris. You don’t need to be afraid that you won’t get a place there. There are so large that there are a thousand passenger cabins. It should go without saying that I am decorated and furnished with all the splendor and comfort. The prices are so much, but the 20-franc huanes is already like that, Johna passes to huanonpualese with the emperor’s turn. The main thing in the room seems to be the extremely wide and well-made beds, large wardrobes with mirrored doors and special and special-sized sinks, which the first time I don’t know anything about, before you ask. The mouth remains open and the face is such that:
— Or so, or like that, and is it right for that — —
The prices of hotel rooms vary greatly. There can be two identical hotels inside and out, but one costs more for everything than the other. The same applies to restaurant prices. The same food, the same drinks, but the prices are two the cheapest. The liquor class costs 4 francs at one place, 3 at another, a third at 16, and the whole neat little restaurant, which is absolutely gorgeous, only 75 pence. In general, the restaurant only offers drinks that are better than the classics. The Cypriots have to get involved with the Nordics in order to:
— Pottu holds a ram’s table!
You need the host of the hotel for that, before it becomes clear what the whole bottle costs. And on the sidelines, the host and the guys cover crazy foreign affairs, who pay 50 francs for a donut, even though you can get it from a neighbor’s liquor store for 28 francs. Here, the French people just order a small Klasin cheap wine, Klass coffee or juice and cover the water with foreign pohatoos, who wave the big and big bills of Sara francs to pay the bill.
Olo ja elo is a chic restaurant in Paris, free of all formal table manners. It looks like everyone eats how they like, tooth and nail. The guests are not cared for at all, even in the nicest so-called family hotels. The ruaka portions are usually so large that there is enough for one person to eat. So there, the portion of one is distributed to two, one to three, etc., and there’s nothing unusual about it, I mean it’s quite common. French dishes are good, but many people find them strange. We were particularly saddened by the fact that the meat, even when roasted, was full of blood. We went from one restaurant to the next and looked for the one where we could get food from Suamalaasehe lahi. We took the first one to a small restaurant right next to the hotel and the first one became a chef. I went to the kitchen, stood by the gas stove, the wisest and wisest how to roast meat for us. Soon those cooks learned and happily cooked for us for a couple of weeks. The names of the dishes were of course all French and there was a lot of chatter at first before we got to the cart.
That trip to the kitchen started when Mösjöö-Tommila of Meirän put on his grandiosity so that he could understand the French rags. Says to L
— When we’re in Paris, of course we’ll eat the right
Chateaubriand, and the place too.
When those “harvest priangi” with many vegetables dipped in cooking oil were brought to the table, it was so delicious. But when Mösjöö then, tasting his mouth, pulled a piece from the side of the piff to eat, the blood curdled and the raw flesh grimaced.
It didn’t say anything, it just tried to poke me in the cheek and that’s it. And of course we followed the guy. Tried to move that piece of meat around, bite and swallow and wash it down with wine. But when they looked at each other like that, I was like a pig in the face: I was covered in blood all over. That left us with the whole nice crop priank. As cruel and very fine as the eating of the marten was, there was some laughter at the end of it, so that:
— Isn’t Mösjö ordering another batch?
But Mösjöö took it upon himself to go straight to the restaurant’s kitchen and, as there was a bottle cone of his time, the sturdy and well-fried Suamala pork cutlets.
— Now, boys, it’s “pork rotii” for you to eat! — great score Mösjöö.
But those complaints are not the end; the worst moment came at the end, when Mösjöö ordered dessert. My friend and I put some stuff on it, but Mösjöö chose it so that his stomach wouldn’t smell like that. He wants “sliced apples”. It then ordered some “pom” and was deeply offended when the girl brought it — pieces of fried potato!
It is said that apples and potatoes are almost in Samoan French language, and Mösjöö of
Meirän got a catalage of something that he couldn’t bear to hear people talk about.
We came home in that hotel so that I made my own grocery list, so that there would be no confusion. »Voo a la Myrrha» (Mole’s veal), »Kotlet a la Kolehmaine» (Kolehmaine’s cutlet), »Piff a la Peltone» (Peltosen’s piffi), »Potaash de la Fintupp» (Fintup’s soup), »Omelett Finlandais» (Suamalaasten scrambled eggs) — but harikos and other pickles were always ordered »a la francee».
There was a lot to see in Paris, many great museums and art collections, world famous gardens Tuileries and other great public buildings, royal castles and private palaces. A lot of monuments and sculptures. It will take months if you want to blame them in more detail. A few dresses have been worn. That museum, like the Louvre, was so enormously large and so many rooms that you could easily go through it in a day. Picture boards, large and short, were filled with hundreds of huanehs. There are paintings of the old Masters of Italy, Holland, and Spain for sale. It must have belonged to Monna-Liisak, who here and there came to the reserve, but got behind you anyway.
I’m a curmudgeon looking girl. To cover skating from under their brows in order to:
— How do you like rowan berries?
With only one eye, I could cover it in my eyes.
There were many large rooms in the former royal castle, which has now been turned into a museum, almost in the same condition as they were in the time of the twelfth and twelfth years of the noble kings, who at the same time kept a rare huusholli and court. There was Lutviik’s embroidery table, pen, scissors and shillings, but Lutviik is nowhere to be seen. I covered it with the beautiful Maria Anttuanet’s great bed frame so that:
— Or is it that Maija, too, has been fooled by her intentions? — Yes, yes, it can fit in the mighty land, but the pyknings, beds and huusholli cabinets, like Lutviik’s snuff box, stay here. So what does it matter if a person in his life has beaten other people as a train, or boasted of his wealth and talked about his greatness, beautified, commanded and scolded others? It’s not surprising, it’s not the host any more than straining to sneeze anymore.
There, the bedchamber of the former kings remembers the story written by the old Greek philosopher Miäleheni yhre about the death of a rich man and a poor man:
That rich man had been a great lord. There was a lot of money and power, “civilization” and of course friends and supporters, at the end of the day it was a pretty dirty country. We killed Tapatti and took him as a ruler, and he became emperor himself. But in the middle of everything, Kualema came and said to:
— Now go!
The emperor took a deep breath and tried to explain so that:
— I have so many things to do and far too much to do, so that I can’t really clean the stain!
But the scythes also say or to:
— Let’s get those rams like that — — It’s just the poor cobbler and I’m supposed to get both of them on the same boat across the Tuanela stream.
— Now wait for a little while — dear emperor — And let that troublesome cobbler get over there in the boot so that I can order my affairs, how to be after me and who will get my goods.
— So it’s pointless! — says vikatesmäs. — Just come out now.
And when that prince began to pan, so the scythes grabbed the ears and your cattle so:
— Now let’s go, the cobbler shouts!
And so I thought.
Paatis has been sitting there for a long time, the cobbler happy and satisfied so that:
— Won’t you be leaving soon?
The prince admired it and asked:
— How happy are you Nuan? —
And let the cobbler explain why:
— I got rid of my sore throat, broken ankle and shoe size, swollen liver and cold nails. I gladly leave all my possessions, my plastic bag there, whoever wants it, I give from my side — —
Who knows how deeply I would have sunk into that, if that Mösjöö-Tommila hadn’t jerked my arm and said:
— What are we going to do with this old scrap! Let’s go to the
“Red Mill”, that’s where life is!