thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
towards there Fred explained to us its history:- During the war with the Prussians the French promised God they would build the biggest church ever as a sign of thanks if they won the war. Despite loosing the Franco-Prussian war in 1870 Paris remained unscathed from the war and so the Sacre Couer was built as an 'Act of National Repentance'.And there it was. Tall and imposing. Bleach white with its green dome and those long stairs with hoards of people sitting on them. We took the cable car until the top and then entered the basilica. Unfortunately it's forbidden to take pictures inside but everything in it is impressive, majestic and full of grandeur. Gold, statues, and a roof that seems like it will reach the sky. As we walked outside there was a street band playing some music on the steps making the atmosphere seem unreal as everyone smiled, sang, and bubbled over with good vibes.We then walked through some small little streets lined with all kinds of souvenirs from key-chains to t-shirts, mugs and magnets. To ward off a bit of the cold we entered a cute coffee shop called "La Virgule" where we warmed ourselves with some hot chocolate and our first impressions of Paris.Fred and Victor (who turned out to be very lively and fun once he got comfortable with you) explained to us many things they had noticed as Brazilians living for longer than a year in Paris. From the language to the food, different customs, traditions and ways of doing things (I will later write a blog post expanding just on this one topic). Nonetheless both adapted really well having a large circle of friends, speaking the language and getting by the city streets like any local would do.Once warmed up we walked towards the Moulin Rouge as the evening set in. Being the only girl in a group of three single guys it was quite the laugh as we stopped and entered many sex shops which are on the same street as the Moulin Rouge. The guys made their dirty jokes, blunt remarks while I just couldn't help but notice how large and big the "sexy panties" were. After entering at least three sex shops I didn't find g-strings in a single one of them. Shock!!! I guess the French really do love their "culottes".And at last we arrived at the Moulin Rouge! I didn't get to enter it but in front of it, across the street is a large air vent where people stand on top and have their picture taken. I don't know if it is a subway air vent or if it was put there just for fun but as soon as we arrived there were two girls (which we dubbed "The Russian Girls") wearing nothing more other than a skimpy short summer dress while the rest of us around were covered from head to toe. This proved to call a LOT of attention but the fun soon turned into embarrassment as the air coming out of the air vent proved
to be stronger lifting one of the girl's dress up into the air showing her beige granny panny underwear. Lots of laughs rippled out in the air while the girl struggled to hold it down and then finally jumped off from the air vent.A little history on the Moulin Rouge: It is known as the birthplace of the modern form of the can-can dance. At first seductive courtesans operated from this time but with time it evolved into a form of entertainment which led to the introduction of cabarets across Europe. Much to my disappointment "Moulin Rouge" means "Red Windmill" and not something exotic or erotic as I imagined since watching the famous movie.Pictures taken, stuffy subway ride back to the apartment, quick dinner with more wine and off we were to enjoy the night!Following Agathe's advice earlier on today we went to a bar/club called "La Bellevilloise" which was having some kind of club party with a live local band. In our heads we arrived there "early" (10:30 pm) but the guard informed us the band had started at about 8 pm and would end not later than midnight so we were no longer allowed to enter but were free to stay at the bar which was part of the club as well.Right next to me, also wanting to enter and watch the live band was a pretty Chinese girl who casually started talking to me, saying she was also too late for the band. We started a casual conversation and I then asked her: "Would you like to join us for a drink at the bar?" Sure she was going to politely decline I couldn't help but give a shocked smile as she said: "Yes! I sure would!"And that was the beginning of my friendship with Jamie, the 25 year old Chinese girl who was living in Paris for about two years. Despite having the Chinese looks there was nothing Chinese about her. She was extremely friendly and outgoing, spoke fluent French and great English and after the first drink was already on the dance floor salsa dancing with Fred (being that they were the only ones on the dance floor, salsa dancing to music that was anything BUT salsa!). All the images of the shy, conservative, only-daughter Chinese girl flashed through my mind and yet not corresponded with what I was seeing right in front of me. But then again, Paris shocked me so many times in one day that I was starting to get used to these surprises.We didn't enter any deep or long conversations as the drink kept us laughing, giggling and cracking up with the silliest things possible. Jamie was thrilled to hear that me, Fred and Vitor were all Brazilians and told me how much she enjoyed hanging out with Brazilians.-"My friends here in Paris are a whole lot more stuck up, boring and care too much what others think of them. Like for example, I love wearing red lipstick and I think it looks great on me" Jamie slurred on her story, "but when
I wear red lipstick my friends tell me '-You bitchhhhhhh!'- Wow! But that is stupid. If you want to wear red lipstick you should wear it no matter what your friends have to say.I swear I don't know how this came to happen but all of a sudden Jamie opens her bag and retrieves a small makeup bag filled with lipsticks of all colors and offers me one of them. I refuse not really caring about vanity at the moment and jokingly tell her to put some on Richi. Using her powers of persuasion before I know it all three boys lips are covered with bright red, pink and orange lipstick and I am laughing so hard that I am afraid I will fall off my chair.Me and Richi walking back to the apartment; Fred, Vitor and Jamie to the RER station to catch the bus back home and not one of us feeling the bitter cold wind fueled by the alcohol in our blood and good vibes in the air.
Eager to get as much as possible out of our day me and Richi woke up early (considering the late time we went to bed the night before), had a quick breakfast and were out in the streets of Paris. This time we were on our own with no guides, local language speakers or help of any kind - just the two of us who were in this huge city for the first time in our lives.Richi quickly learnt how to get around using the Parisian subway station and so off we went straight for the Louvre. The day before Vitor had sat down with me and written out a little "tour" we could do starting by the Louvre and ending at the Eiffel Tower at night. It would be a long day but wasn't that what we were there for anyways?Even the fog and rain that greeted us as we left the subway station weren't enough to dampen our excitement of the day we had ahead of us. We took a look at how much it was to enter the Louvre: 11 euros each; and then asked how much would be a Paris Museum Pass for one day: almost 40 euros each. And right then and there we did a big mistake: we bought the Paris Museum Pass.Why was it a mistake? Well by the time we finally found where to buy the Paris Museum Pass (you buy it in a tobacco store next to the Louvre) and entered the Louvre it was almost 11:00 am - the Louvre is HUGE and packed out and before you know it three to four hours have gone by in a flash! After spending many hours in a museum your head is tired, your body can't stand being pushed and shoved anymore by people and your legs feel like they will fall off. Another museum is NOT HAPPENING!!!And that is exactly what happened to us. Louvre took pretty much our entire day - and I can't complain as it really is magnificent! From the Egyptian tombs to the Greek statues followed by astonishing gold framed paintings of the Renascence Era - it is all a work of art! And of course you can't miss pushing your way through the crowd of people that surround her: yep, none other than the mysterious Mona Lisa. Though as soon as I found myself in front of her all I could think of was: "Geezzzz!!!" The painting is small, extremely well guarded and at least 100 meters in front of you surrounded by glass cases, and in my honest and sincere opinion there really wasn't anything all THAT special about it.Now if you stop and pay attention to the paintings that surround Mona Lisa then yes, that is what I call a work of art! Looking at them I totally forgot the disappointment I had felt just a few minutes ago. Well as they say, a picture is worth 1,000 words...so here go the pictures: It is 6:00 am here in Paris and I just can't sleep so
I snuck out to Tom's bathroom and am writing all that has happened to me in this great city which is called Paris!!!Let's start from the very beginning. After many long hours on the plane the captain announces that we are getting near to our destination:PARIS!! The plane starts to descend and magnificent views start appearing before my very eye: lush green hills, straight fields of wheat, tall trees with golden brown leaves, castles, cute cozy French cottages and then the River Seine. The feeling of joy and beauty is too big to describe and I become overwhelmed! "OMG! This is happening to me - I am in Paris!!!" The plane goes up and ascends over the white fluffy clouds- the sun shines over them giving me another splendid view. Nothing can be more beautiful than this.Once out of the plane I go off to baggage claim and am delightfully happy that no bag has gone missing and nothing has been taken from inside of them - after hearing this story from many students of mine that was one of my fears. Tourist information sector was next. I had written the address I was going to in my iPhone but yet when I retrieved my iPhone to be able to show it to the young French lady in front of me and receive some directions I see the battery has totally died down. Ok - off to find a plug to recharge my battery to get the address to make it to my final destination. Unfortunately that proved to be quite the chore and that is when I started using my very badly pronounced and limited French. - Excusez-moi. Parlez vous Anglais? It started out with only those 5 words. Over and over I repeated them until I found my way to the wi-fi /cell phone plugs area. Once again I was terribly disappointed to not have any free Internet to use and since I needed to get in touch with my host Tom to let him know I would arrive later than planned at Hoche subway station I gave in and paid 2 euros (a much cheaper price compared to Portugal) for 30 minutes of Internet which turned out to be only seven as the Internet connection would fall every 30 seconds. Well at least I got done what needed to get done. Lesson no. 1: Always charge your phone before a long trip. Or write the address in a piece of paper...Next was a BIG challenge! Transport 3 bags equaling 62 kilos in total from ORLY airport to Hoche subway station. Get yourself a map of Paris and you will see how they are totally in opposite directions. Once again using my five special words I was able to buy a pass for about 10 euros and hop on to the OrlyVal (the subway line that takes you from the airport to a subway station inside Paris since ORLY Airport is on the outskirts of the city) tugging my absurd amount of luggage along. Off the OrlyVal started the real
trouble. Firstly I needed to get my baggage through the turnstile and that already proved to be quite the challenge as my bag was too thick to go through it and too heavy for me to pick it up. Going crazy trying to make my huge red bag go through for almost five minutes I turn exasperated to the French security guard who was laughing at me beneath his breath and pointed him my suitcase forcing him to help me out. As the subway arrived I entered first with my backpack and handbag yet I had barely got to put them on a seat when I hear the sound of the subway doors closing, turn around and see a man jump, grab my suitcase and pull it inside just as soon as the doors closed shut. What a relief! I have never used the words Merci and Merci Beaucoup so much nonstop while the man just looked at me and smiled back. After the scare having passed the next problem was getting out of the totally full subway with my huge amount of bags in time before the doors closing on my luggage. Right in front of me there was a negro woman (yes, there are plenty in Paris!) whom I approached in my horrid French showing her on the map I had where I needed to get to. With her limited English she told me I needed to get off at the very next stop and since I had so many bags with me she would help me out. As soon as we left the subway I found myself at none other than Gare du Nord where I had the shock of my life. Dirt, beggars, foodstalls, swarms of people - and definitely not the kind of people I was expecting to see in Paris! From Indians to yellow skinned Eastern Europeans, tanned Turks and Negros - LOTS of them!!! It felt like I was back in Bahia. But I didn't have much time to take it all in as I would like to as the woman with me soon started call out to me, tugging my little red bag while I died under the heavy weight of my backpack and suitcase. As soon as I started to lag behind she would call out to me "Aller vite aller" (Go, quick, go!) forcing me to pick up my pace while she continued nodding her head in disapproval at what a fool I was. I had told her in the subway that I wanted to get a taxi as to get to my host's house I would need to change subway lines twice more and after my first scare I was not going to risk loosing my suitcase again. This amazing woman walked with me for literally 20 minutes - up and down stairs (while she asked huge random negro men to carry my suitcase up for me), in and out of doors, sidewalks and getting me out of the huge maze only people who have been to Gare du Nord know
it is. Finally we made it outside and to the taxis. In my broken French I offered to pay her a taxi home as way of expressing my huge gratitude in her helping me out. She looks at me a bit angry, grabs the piece of paper in my hand with my host's address and starts talking to the taxi man in what seems like she is bargaining. She then opens her purse and starts taking some money out. It is only then that I notice that she understood that I wanted her to pay MY taxi!!! I run to her and after lots of hand motions, loose French words and facial expressions she understands my initial offer. She then refuses adamantly my paying her a taxi home, gives me her phone number so I can call her and I thank her with a huge hug from the bottom of my heart.Inside the taxi I gave a sigh of relief thinking now all I needed was to arrive at my host's place. I was soo wrong! My taxi driver was a thin, gaunt negro with an obviously bad mood who spoke just a dozen words in English. He started making his way to the address written on the slip of paper I had given and I started chatting with him using my dozen French words. When I told him I was Brazilian he was very happy and asked about soccer (of course!). He then told me he was from Madagascar (total shock!) and how his family had come to Paris when he was young looking for work. He then asked me what was my religion but before I could answer a Muslim woman covered from head to toe in a black burqa crossed the street. I had never seen a woman in Brazil covered from head to toe - this was an image from watching the news or reading a newspaper - and I couldn't help but let out a gasp and ask the taxi driver: "Est-ce normal?" (Is this normal?) while I pointed to the woman. He instantly turned his head and answered me: "Of course this is normal! I am Muslim as well!!!" Quickly trying to remedy the situation I answered: " -Ahh...La femme est tres belle, tres jolie!" He looked at me through the review mirror with a "yeah right!" expression on his face and continued driving. - This is it. Here is the street! Which number is it that you want to go to? He pulls up on a street and looks at me. - The number that is on the paper I gave you with the address.He hands me the paper and says: - There is no number on this paper. Your friend just wrote down the name of the street and the postal code. Without the number of the apartment I can't take you there. - OMG! I was sure this postal code number was the actual number of my friend's apartment.- Well do you have his phone number? Just give him a call.- I do
have his number but it's on my Facebook and my cellphone is from Brazil so I have no internet on my cellphone so I can't enter my Facebook to get his number to call him.The taxi driver looked at me like as if I were the biggest idiot in the whole universe and asked me: - So what are you going to do now? Want me to drop you off here?- Noooo!!! We need to find a place with internet that I can use so I can enter my Facebook and get his phone number.Fortunately right on the road we had stopped was a restaurant. He parked the car on a sidewalk and I ran inside. Much to my luck I discovered that it wasn't only a restaurant but a hotel as well. I explained to the receptionist that I desperately needed to use the internet. She must have mistaken me for a guest staying in the hotel as she kindly showed me over to a computer in the main hall and told me to help myself. I quickly entered my Facebook and as I was jotting down my host's phone number all of a sudden I started shaking. Shaking, shaking, shaking. Uncontrollably. In a flash I noticed I had left EVERYTHING I had inside the taxi. My iPad, passport, professional camera, 1,000 Euros in cash, credit cards, drivers license - plus my bags with clothes, shoes and personal items. Everything was inside that cab. My blood froze and I ran out the restaurant with the phone number in my hand. I never felt so much relief flood into my soul as when I saw the cab lights stopped on the sidewalk. Only after I entered the cab I noticed how the first night of my trip could have been my last as well. Without my passport and credit cards I would have no other option but go back to Brasil. I used the taxi driver's phone to call Tom (my host) who told me to stay put as he lived right across the street (we were literally parked one block from his apartment). The taxi driver pulled out my bags out of his trunk and left them on the street watching me tug them up to the restaurant's steps where I would be waiting Tom to pick me up. I was so grateful to the taxi man not having run away and taken all my things with him that I gave him a 50,00 euro bill telling him to keep the 15,00 euro change as a tip for his honesty. At last Tom arrived. Tall, handsome and very French looking (even though in my opinion French men aren't usually handsome) - a total gentlemen. He helped me with my bags and took me to his Parisian little student flat. Like most all flats in Paris this one was tiny with every corner and space being used. One large rectangle: kitchen and study desk in front of his bed, in front of the bathroom a wardrobe. And you can imagine my surprise
when I enter the bathroom and see it is huge!!! As I visited other Parisian apartments in the following days I noticed that this was just the way the French built their buildings. No matter how small living quarters were the bathrooms were always large and spacious. Very excited to be in my first Parisian apartment I took pictures of everything new and different that I spotted with my eye: the pink toilet paper, the towel warmer (a metal rack which lets off heat in which you hang your towels to dry - after having taken your shower you have a nice warm towel to dry yourself with), removable pot handles (an amazing invention!), and on the list goes. I then gave Tom a few Brazilian things I had brought for him: Brazilian CDs, cocada and doce de ameixa (coconut and plum sweets). Tom cooked for me some delicious soup with melted cheese and then introduced me to what became my favorite French sweet ever: Speculoos!!! I later discovered you can find it as cookies as well - but what Tom gave me was cookie butter spooned out from a jar. I must have licked at least three spoons of Speculoos wishing there was something like this in Brazil. He also made me some nice warm tea - I later found out he did this every single night - and it's perfect as it calmed my agitated nerves down and the tiredness finally kicked in. The night ended with me arguing with Tom's generosity but as always he won: I slept on his bed and he slept on a mattress on the floor. After all the day's adventures here I was, safe and sound and tomorrow would be my first day in a new country. I covered myself with Tom's "The Simpson's" sheet and soon sleep found me.Bon nuit Paris!!!
Paris is known to all as being the city of love, but for me it is a lot more than that - it is the city of joy, happiness and feeling grateful. During my whole time in Paris I cannot remember once that I was sad, unhappy or feeling down. Even when I was totally lost, having a hard time communicating with the French, almost loosing my baggage in the subway, dead tired of walking all day - not once did I feel the slightest tinge of sadness. It was all joy!!!And maybe that is why it is known as the city of love - because love makes you happy. Be it love towards your family, friends, that special person who holds your heart, your children - or even love to life itself. When you love life, life makes you happy. And this was me in Paris. I just couldn't stop smiling and everything seemed golden, beautiful and great.But anyways, continuing on with the story... After the Louvre me and Richi found our way into a nice little bistro where we had a nice lunch of bread, butter, omelet with fresh mushrooms and some nice hot tea. Before we knew it, it was almost five pm and we both felt full and tired. Outside it was pouring rain and the next few things we had put to do on our list were all outdoor sights. In the end we decided to go home and rest a bit until night came. And that is what we did...got ourselves a few good hours of sleep and woke up ready to put our next plan into action.I got in touch with Jamie (the Chinese girl we had met the night before, whom we nicknamed "The Lipstick Girl" as she put lipstick on all three boys) and we set a time to meet up and from there she would take us out to a club so we could party!!!Following the directions she had given us we ended up at none other than...The Moulin Rouge - the exact place we had been to the evening before. Next to it was a club where me and Jamie gladly entered for free while Richi had to pay 15,00 Euros. A VERY strange thing for me was finding out that here in Paris men are not allowed into a club without having at least one woman with them - or so, if a group of guys don't have at least one female company with them there is no way they will be able to enter the club and party. Crazy, no?! Entering we went straight to the bar where I was appalled at once when discovering the prices of the drinks... a simple cocktail wasn't cheaper than 11 euros a piece. A small glass of beer ranged 8 to 10 euros - the only good thing in all of this was that the water was for free!After a drink and warming up to the place we went straight to the dance floor and that's when I experienced for the first