New title, new design, same me

Some housekeeping. So you might have noticed something. Like this blog's new title and new design. Both now thirty-eight percent lighter and cheerier and lower cholesterol.

(If you're viewing this in Google Reader or some other RSS feed thing, you'll have to click through to see what I'm talking about.)

The new title--Europe on Five Wrong Turns a Day--reflects what I think, maybe, possibly (ask me later) is the final title of the actual book. It's more tangible, more accurate, more funny this way, yes? Yes. Good. I'm glad you agree. Oh, and, yes, I'm aware the that the domain name and the new title are different. Working on it--trying to get it so that all of the old links still work and such, before I transfer to a new domain name.

Content-wise, the blog will stay more or less the same: quips, rants, stories, and general commentary on travel topics, particularly those relating to:

1. unexpected angles and insights on tourism and the beaten path, because there's usually a hidden story behind the cliche; 
2. guidebooks and travel apps and how we get informed when we plan our journeys; and 
3. the history and evolution of tourism in the last generation. 

I may also start posting about other things more often. We'll see. Honestly, until the book comes out next year, posting is probably going to be pretty light. But if you want any posts about anything, by all means, holler (doug@douglasmack.net).

Wow, that's a lot of boring behind-the-scenes stuff. To bring us back on-topic, I leave you with the full version of the photo I used for the new header. It's from something I stumbled across in Paris when I was lost, the Parade for Sex and Beer. At least, I think that's what it was. I don't know. I couldn't figure it out and I rather enjoyed the mystery of the bizarre spectacle, so I didn't ask anyone.

This is why it's so awesome to be lost: you accidentally stumble upon this sort of thing.

The criminals in Paris are actually kind of charming

I'm writing the Paris chapter, and I had to cut this scene. So here ya go: an outtake!

E5D is not an all-purpose guidebook. It doesn't have tips on avoiding lines or how to dress in various cultures or how to keep in touch with the folks back home. It also has no advice on avoiding that eternal anxiety of travel, street crime.

So when a guy near the Eiffel Tower tried to scam me, I made me an easy mark. Luckily, I had found the single most inept criminal in history.

There are a lot of scams that modern guidebooks warn you about, many involving methods of distracting you while an accomplice picks your pocket (watch out for someone “accidentally” spilling something on you) or trying to give you a great price on goods that are, of course, counterfeit.

Here's how the one that I saw works, in theory: as you walk down the sidewalk, someone a few steps behind you tries to get your attention. He's holding a gold ring or other small, potentially expensive object. “You dropped this,” he says (most likely in English). You tell him that, no, you didn't. He looks at it, as if for the first time, and is stunned—stunned!—to find a marking labeling it as pure gold or otherwise authentic-and-pricey. Then the benevolent soul tries to sell you this prestigious item for a price so low that you really can't afford to pass up the opportunity. He refuses to take no for an answer, badgering you until you give him some cash to go away.

And here's how this guy did it: as I was about ten feet away, walking toward him, he conspicuously dropped a ring on the ground. He looked up at me for a split second, nonchalantly—just lookin' around, being a normal person—then whipped his gaze back toward the sidewalk, gesturing theatrically, jaw dropping to his knees. He pointed. Mon dieu! What have we here?

“Excusez-moi?” he said shyly, looking at me again. “You have dropped zee ring, monsieur?”

“Nope. Merci,” I said, trying not to laugh in his face.

“No, no. You … have dropped ... eet.” There were odd pauses in his wording, as though he couldn't recall his script. “I have seen! I am … helping you. Oui?”

“Non.”

“Ah. Okay. You would like … to buy? How much … will you pay? You make an offer.”

“No, really. Not interested.”

“Non?” I waited for the hard sell, but he offered only a look of confusion, searching his mind for the follow-up line but coming up blank.

“Oh. Okay,” he sighed, and walked away. 

Not-so-flattering views of famous places: Montmartre

Paris

I hit the tourist trifecta here: amazing architecture, tacky souvenirs, and an Irish pub.