On the train into Nice, France, I met Clinton and Sally, an Australian husband and wife with daughters Olivia and Genevieve, who despite being eight and ten were essentially the Australian Olsen twins. Great, great family traveling for four months – a week in Prague, three in Nice, one in Paris, three throughout Italy, seven in South America… You know, your typical childhood experience.
Sally: “How has your experience with hostels been?”
Me: “You know, they are great. Really clean, friendly, safe, fun… Always way better than when I have had to pay for a one or two star hotel. I haven’t had a bad experience. Generally safe, I’m never stupid but if there are limited outlets while I’m home, I feel fine leaving my camera charging on the bed while I go get lunch or something. Of course, that sounds fine until I have to tell my parents the camera got stolen off the bed.”
Clinton: “Well that’s when you make up a great story.” And then he starts one.
The next few minutes, the three of us:
I was walking down the street
when out of nowhere
I saw this bear!
It was a really big bear
And I thought
What the hell is a bear doing in Paris?
Because bears don’t speak French
And I was in such shock
He grabbed all my stuff
And I was so impressed
Because as he walked down the street
He turned around and was taking pictures of me with my camera
Which was even more impressive
Because he was doing it one handed
and holding my giant blue umbrella in the other
Which he then used to fly away
And that’s when I knew
I should have known by the purse
That I just got robbed by Beary Poppins.