The Backpacking Chronicles - Edition 3
May 5th 2008 08:11
The Rejections.
Like the glistening, white circled entrance to heaven, the door to the 'Dior' store, Paris, was finally in front of us.
We only had our small day packs on, ready for a long day of trekking around the French capital. Our oversized backpacks were resting in the hostel locker room. Reef sandals, khaki pants, singlet tops and head scarves completed our outfits.
Sly as a couple of designer clad foxes, we put our day packs over our shoulders to give the illusion of hand bags, and strode up to the door with excited grins in place.
A brief glimpse inside as we pushed the door, then our view was obscured by a large, smirking security guard. He looked from our feet, back up to our heads and upon remembering the state of our toenails, we turned back to the street before we were asked.
Wandering through a small village in Germany, we were enticed by the array of cuckoo clocks in one store. We did have our large packs on this time, but the shop was open and spacious with the clocks spread over the walls. We were always very considerate of the potential 'knocking over and smashing' power of our luggage.
Two other customers were perusing and the lady serving them came towards us, a killer glint in her eye.
"We are closed." This said in a curt, flat tone.
"But the doors are open and there are two other people in here." My friend stated the obvious.
"Yes. But we are closed."
The young couple were looking at us in a confused and sympathetic manner. We did as instructed and stood watching other customers as they strolled in and out, albeit without backpacks.
Interestingly, my friend's father had given her quite a sum of money to purchase one such clock and send it home.
Then, there was Harrods, London, who have an understandable aversion to large backpacks. But, they did let us in minus the packs. Which meant an hour walk back to the hostel...
Moral of the story? It doesn't matter how young and attractive you are, or not, how much money you have, or not, a backpack can equate to leprosy in some places.
Never mind. You don't need the crap anyway.
Like the glistening, white circled entrance to heaven, the door to the 'Dior' store, Paris, was finally in front of us.
We only had our small day packs on, ready for a long day of trekking around the French capital. Our oversized backpacks were resting in the hostel locker room. Reef sandals, khaki pants, singlet tops and head scarves completed our outfits.
Sly as a couple of designer clad foxes, we put our day packs over our shoulders to give the illusion of hand bags, and strode up to the door with excited grins in place.
A brief glimpse inside as we pushed the door, then our view was obscured by a large, smirking security guard. He looked from our feet, back up to our heads and upon remembering the state of our toenails, we turned back to the street before we were asked.
Wandering through a small village in Germany, we were enticed by the array of cuckoo clocks in one store. We did have our large packs on this time, but the shop was open and spacious with the clocks spread over the walls. We were always very considerate of the potential 'knocking over and smashing' power of our luggage.
Two other customers were perusing and the lady serving them came towards us, a killer glint in her eye.
"We are closed." This said in a curt, flat tone.
"But the doors are open and there are two other people in here." My friend stated the obvious.
"Yes. But we are closed."
The young couple were looking at us in a confused and sympathetic manner. We did as instructed and stood watching other customers as they strolled in and out, albeit without backpacks.
Interestingly, my friend's father had given her quite a sum of money to purchase one such clock and send it home.
Then, there was Harrods, London, who have an understandable aversion to large backpacks. But, they did let us in minus the packs. Which meant an hour walk back to the hostel...
Moral of the story? It doesn't matter how young and attractive you are, or not, how much money you have, or not, a backpack can equate to leprosy in some places.
Never mind. You don't need the crap anyway.
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