By Gregor Stronach. Topic: Community and Society. Searching for romance. I went in search of romance. It was, after all, a European honeymoon - the quintessential Australian dream: to travel far from home and find a spark with which to start a flame, and fire the forge of married life.
Ever a fool for love, I've sought romance before. I've bought in to the hallmark holidays, the annual price-gouge of Valentine's Day roses, the expensive, secluded dinners for two with harbour views and bottles of wine. But this was different. This was Serious - an international search for an otherwise intangible dream. What I found was the bane of any mortal man's existence. That which I sought comes with a price tag that seems exorbitant at best, and near-criminal at worst.
I found that where man seeks romance, other men seek their fortune. It wasn't until we arrived in Europe that I discovered the awful, ugly truth about romance. Paris, described by poets and punters alike as one of the most romantic cities on earth, is no moveable feast.
More a buffet of opportunists, greedily clutching at their share of the inward-bound currency of couples seeking that picture-perfect moment together. It's almost impossible to photograph Paris these days without finding each and every shot invaded by barge-arsed Americans having their pockets emptied by nimble-fingered gypsies.
Everything in Paris is expensive - even the public bathrooms. When nature called in Paris, I was alarmed at the fact that I would be forced to fork out an hour's wages so that a dour Eastern European man could listen to me do my business, steadfastly refusing to clean the facilities despite their obvious hygienic shortcomings.
