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About Strasbourg

So, what hooks ‘em in? Money, obviously—piles of it, quick and dirty. Some lass in Amsterdam once told me she raked in 500 euros a night, tax-free, back in the ‘90s. Fuckin’ mental, right? Beats slaving in a kitchen for pennies, I’ll give ‘er that. But it’s the power too—controlling blokes who’d beg like dogs. That’s the buzz, innit? “You’re nothing here,” she’d say, smirkin’. Made me laugh, then pissed me off—why’s it gotta be so dark?

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I must mention the quirkiest landmark: the old clock tower on Place des Temps Perdus (yep, that’s right, a cheeky nod to lost time), which chimes unpredictably. On one mad afternoon, it struck thirteen—like, really thirteen! I was flabbergasted, mad as a wet hen, but it made me grin ear to ear. Such delightful lunacy!

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