Ten Things My Kids Say They Will Miss About Paris

I've asked my kids many times to reflect on their experiences and it's a little bit like pulling teeth. And now that school is out, while they're happy to read for pleasure, writing is not high on their list of priorities. I'm sure one day they'll look back on this experience and be amazed by their good fortune.  Perhaps, they'll even be moved to write about it.  But for the moment, when asked what they'll most miss about Paris, the best I could do is this.

1. Bread, bread, bread
2. The métro
3. Watching the searchlight of the Eiffel Tower reflected in the courtyard outside my bedroom window when I'm falling asleep
4. Going to movies on the Champs-Élysées
5. Salted butter and speculoos spread
6. Being able to walk everywhere
7. Shopping on rue de Passy
8. Pastries
9. Going out to eat at L'Entrecôte
10. My friends

Rough life, huh?

Le Grand Bordel

When I hear horns honking on my block, it usually means that someone has parked in front of a building entrance, blocking the residents from either entering or exiting.  One morning last week, the honking was more insistent than usual and when I looked down to the corner, I saw this mess or as they say, un grand bordel.  My guess is that there was a vehicle around the corner to the left, perhaps a garbage truck or a bus, blocking the one-way,  one-lane street.  But just what the fellow in the white car was thinking, the one turning right the wrong way down the one-way street, I cannot imagine.  And of course, the motorcyclist was doing what they always do, weaving in and out of traffic, making time and making car drivers crazy.

Twenty minutes later, when I looked out the window again, all was back to normal.

Metro Mishap

Technical incidents, strikes, sick passengers can all create havoc with the morning commute. But an animal on the track? Let your imagination run wild with this one.

Metro Vaneau

The Paris Metro is best known for its Art Nouveau entrances designed by Hector Guimard.  As much as I love them, sometimes it's nice to find something just a bit different, and no less stunning.  You can find this stop on line 10, on the border of the 6th and 7th arrondissements.

Losing My Velib Virginity

If there is one thing I have been bound and determined to do before leaving Paris, it is to finally go out on a Velib.  Yes, shockingly, after four years here and my arrival almost perfectly coinciding with the advent of Paris's wildly successful bike for hire program, I had never taken out one of the city's bikes for a spin until now.  Actually, I thought about it once during the long transit strike of 2007, but when I went to the closest Velib station, I found out that everyone else had had the same idea.  There wasn't a bike to be seen.  And since then, the need never recurred.  I do love biking.  It's the thought of biking in Paris traffic that has given me pause.  Well, that and my Navigo Integrale pass that makes it oh so easy to hop on and off buses and subways. 

But enough is enough.  Earlier this week, I met up with a friend at a metro stop in the 17th where we snagged the last two bikes at the adjacent Velib station and were on our way.  Everything was going great until we realized that the half hour was almost up and we had no idea where we were going.  We pulled over, took a quick look at the map, and at my friend's Velib app which pointed us to the nearest station, just half a block away.  The plan was to dock the bikes, allow the system to register them, and then take them out again.  No problem except ....the kiosk was busted.  We couldn't liberate the bikes.  The iPhone was showing two more bikes just a block away.  But when we got there, we found that one had a flat tire and the other had a broken seat.  We continued walking, through long stretches of the 10th, 18th, and 17th and found not one Velib station with two available bikes. 

 It was much later that afternoon, long after I had parted ways with my friend, that I saw this:

And where was my 24 hour Velib ticket when I needed it?  Sitting on the chest in my front hall.  Curses, foiled again.

Calling Card

If you spend much time commuting by train in these parts, you're bound to encounter all manner of folks with outstretched hands.  There are musicians (of varying talent) with their change cups duct taped to their amplifiers, well groomed but shabby gentleman begging your pardon as they hawk their  tourist guides to Paris, and then there are the dudes with the cards like the one above.  These guys go through the train, leaving cards on empty seats, and then make the reverse trip to retrieve them and hopefully a bit of pocket change as well. 

You can see a scam in this if you like.  The cards always look the same -- same language, same typeface.  (Do all of these folks really have two children?)  I'm just grateful it's not me with the stack of cards.  That's one hell of a tough way to try to make a living.

Going the Distance

Some months back, I shared with you the story of Roxana, an acquaintance who has embarked upon a mission of walking every street in Paris before her husband's work assignment ends two years from now.  It got to me to wondering how many streets I'd walked myself.  So I got out my trusty laminated folding Streetwise Paris map, photocopied it, and set to work with a highlighter.  I easily marked in the routes I walk frequently and mentally retraced the steps I've taken on walking tours and jaunts around town.    And what I found was this:

So maybe I'm not in Roxana's league, but honestly, I haven't done half bad for someone who never had a particular goal in mind.  Now the Streetwise map doesn't cover all of Paris, particularly the far reaches north and south.  But let's not split hairs, folks.  You've got to admit that I've made some tracks.

Then again half bad means there's definitely room for improvement.  Fortunately, a couple of factors seem to be conspiring to get me moving -- the weather's fine, my gym membership expired and the rates they're charging for a partial year membership are exorbitant, and I've got some errands to do that will take me to uncharted territory.  More than that, it's amazing how carrying my map and highlighter in my bag motivates me to find new routes to familiar destinations.  What can I say, I'm all dork when it comes to Paris.

Have Wheels, Will Travel

Scootering is a very popular and eminently practical way to get around Paris.  And it's not just for kids; I often see adults in business attire on their trottinettes but it's rare that I have my camera out at the right moment.  Yesterday, I was lucky enough to catch this threesome -- a dad and his two kids -- on their way to school and office.

Are the French Really Rude?

In my view, no.  Yes, they maintain a certain distance when relating to strangers, a coolness that an outgoing American can find off putting.  And yes, they are insistent on adhering to a set of formalized manners.  And true, they have a concept of personal space that can make you feel uncomfortable if you are used to a world in which the 15 inches surrounding your body are inviolable. 

But rude in the sense that they lack consideration for others? Not at all.  On the other hand, it seems to me that maintaining a certain level of decorum in interpersonal relationships requires a pretty much constant stream of reminders about what's proper.  This notice, with its tut tut tut instructions to treat the bus driver with respect, is part of a campaign to keep bus riders in line.  Other notices in the series admonish riders not to ask the driver to stop between stops, to give up their seats to persons who are older or infirm, to fold up their strollers,  and to keep their voices down.  There's even a series of borderline ridiculous YouTube videos to reinforce the messages.

Has this campaign made any difference?  As you might guess, I'm skeptical.  But I don't mind the intent.  And I'll try to model the proper behavior the next time I'm on the bus.

Accessible or Not?

The French passed a law back in 1975 to improve public accommodations for persons with disabilities.  Among other reforms, there's dedicated parking for the disabled and crossing signals for the blind.   That being said, Paris is still a pretty tough town to get around in if you're in a wheelchair or for that matter pushing little ones in a stroller or lugging a big suitcase.  Curb cuts are intermittent and charming cobblestoned roads can make for a bumpy ride.   All buses are now equipped with ramps but the Metro?  With the exception of the mostly new line 14, the subway system is a nightmare of steps, steps, and more steps. Museums vary in their accessibility and the best advice I've heard is to always do a dry run to discover the best routes and entrances if you'll be having a visitor who uses a wheelchair.

Whether the problem is lax enforcement, limited resources, or simple apathy, I can't say.  A modest sized centre commercial near us was recently renovated, a process that took the better part of two years, with apparently only limited attention to these issues.  There's still a significant step between the sidewalk and the building.  Once inside, there's a flight of about six stairs to reach the main corridor.  Where there was once a rather steep ramp (probably more useful for folks rolling shopping caddies than those using wheelchairs), there is now a small elevator which most of the time seems to be sporting this sign:

Sigh. Twas ever thus.

Cycling Lesson

This is for all the parents out there who ever taught a kid to ride a bike.  Although the end result is thrilling (watching your kid experience the freedom of pedaling solo is truly like nothing else), the hours you have to put in can be tedious.  Plus all that hunching over really does a number on your back.  (Full disclosure:  it was my husband who did all the heavy lifting in this department for our two kids.)

Learning to unicycle takes a special kind of determination.  I walked behind this father-daughter duo for several blocks; she never managed to make it more than two or three revolutions without falling off.   Dad, for his part, kept his iron grip on both her hand and his cell phone.  Perhaps he's not the model of parental attention but I give him full credit for being out there on a chilly Sunday, giving her a chance to learn a new skill, especially in a city where there are not a lot of venues for this sort of activity.

And if she doesn't make it into that classe préparatoire a couple of years hence, if she sticks with the unicycle, there's an open plaza in front of the Centre Pompidou just waiting for another street performer.

Bus-ted

What's the difference between being a tourist and a resident, albeit a temporary one?  When you're a tourist and you're riding a city bus and it gets stuck behind a garbage truck, you might not even notice.  The ride is an adventure itself -- there are people whose outfits, behavior, and potential back stories you can analyze in your head, and there's always something of interest out the window.  But when you're a resident, it's that sinking feeling of "here we go again" while mentally recalibrating your route to your destination (bail at the next possible metro stop or keep going hoping things will improve?) and thinking about the excuses you'll have to make about your tardy arrival.   This happens more often than I'd care to admit, a product of the city's already narrow streets and the tendency of delivery vans to double park.  The RATP's bus drivers can move their vehicles through some pretty tight spots but some times there's nothing to do but wait. 

Yesterday, being stuck behind a garbage truck added a good 7 minutes to my ride, meaning that when I got to my transfer point, the only thing I could see of my next bus was its tail lights.  And as bad luck would have it, I was in a veritable public transportation no man's land, a fifteen minute walk to the nearest metro with only fifteen minutes left until my meeting.  Six euros and a taxi later, I was just a hair late.  Trust me, next time I'm taking the metro, even if I had to change trains twice.

Meilleurs Voeux

Is this so French or what?!  The RATP is sending its best wishes for the new year to its riders.  From now through the 22nd of January, extracts from French poems will decorate the platforms and corridors of the Métro as well as appearing on buses, the RER and tramway 3.   Honestly, I could not imagine a similar campaign in the U.S. -- word play for sure, but no poetry, no way.

And by the way, RATP,  pleine de poesie?  Surely, a sweet wish for the new year, but let's hope also that it's also not pleine de grèves.

Note: If you can't read the text here, it says, "J'ai réinventé le passé pour voir la beauté de l'avenir." This line from Le Fou d'Elsa by Louis Aragon translates as "I reinvented the past to see the beauty of the future."

Kid Commute

In Paris, there's no such thing as a school bus if you're in the public schools.  It's walk or take public transportation.  Out in the hinterlands, it's another story.   There are school buses for kids who live a good distance from school but more and more often, parents drop off their kids by car.  In fact, between 1983 and 2003, the number of French parents taking their kids to school by automobile quadrupled from 10 percent to 40 percent.  What's more, most of these trips are less than a kilometer, about 12 minutes on foot if you are a kid.

So enter the walking school bus, or as it's known in France -- the Pédibus.  Kids gather at predetermined locations and walk together with parents to school.   This concept isn't unique to France (in fact, it's the brain child of an Australian) but it's catching on.   Currently, about 150 "lines" operate in France, including this one in Saint-Rémy-Lès-Chevreuse, a town southwest of Paris on the RER B.   Less traffic, fewer parking hassles, and an opportunity for kids to walk to school with adult supervision -- sounds pretty good to me.

Public Art

If you've seen one Parisian metro station, you can pretty much figure that you've seen them all -- lots of white tile, concrete platform, a row of newer plastic benches or seats, and billboard sized advertisements elaborately framed.  It's a look that dates back to the Métro's early days, something that the powers that be have either deliberately decided not to mess with or retained out of benign neglect.  There are a few notable exceptions:  the sleek space age look of the fully automated line 14, the copper encased nautically inspired version at Arts and Métiers, the reproduction of antiquities at Louvre-Rivoli, and bits of calligraphy at Cluny La Sorbonne.  My favorite though is the line 12 platform at Concorde which is tiled, walls and ceilings, with the text of the Declaration of the Rights of Man.  It's not easy to capture with an unsophisticated camera but that never stopped me in the past.

I wouldn't recommend trying to read the entire declaration while you're standing on the platform.  And where would you even start?  But picking out the words isn't a bad way to pass the time while you wait for the next train.  

Going to the Chapel?

It's not unusual to see folks (particularly Asians) decked in their wedding best at various spots around town -- the Eiffel Tower for example, or the Tuileries or even the Pont des Arts.  But this is the first time I've seen a bride on the metro.  Or was she really a bride at all?  What I can tell you is that she was with a photographer and another lady (dressed in street clothes) and there was no groom in sight.  Plus that cardigan was pretty ratty and she was also wearing black slacks underneath.  (Stop that.  I didn't have to peek to see those.  When she sat down a while after I took the shot, she gathered her skirt around her so it wouldn't get dirty.)  Well if she shows up in some Asian wedding magazine, you can say that you saw her here first.

Either Way, Put on the Brakes

Quick. Don't think. What is this?

If you answered "a French stop sign," you are so wrong. Well okay you are right if you meant "French" as in "French language." But if you meant "a stop sign in France," you lose. This is a stop sign I saw in Québec when we were there last month. A stop sign in France has the the same shape and the same color scheme but the letters read "STOP." Yes, for real.

I attempted to document this, setting out with my camera in my bag as I did my usual errands, knowing full well that I have seen many such signs during our sojourn here in France. Only it turns out, there aren't any stop signs in Paris or at least in my neck of the woods. There are traffic lights galore and white markings on the road indicating that cars must "arrêt à l'intersection dans les conditions définies à l'article R.415-6 du code de la routiere." (This information courtesy of the Ministère de l’Écologie, de l’Énergie, du Développement durable et de la Mer -- how's that for a mouthful?) But no red signs with the word "STOP." Which perhaps explains something about traffic in Paris and why I'm just as happy to be on foot.



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Kudos

Since customer service is not assumed in France, it's important to give credit where it's due. My hat is off today to the folks at the RATP, the authority which runs public transport in Ile de France.

Believe it or not, my husband and I both managed to lose our Navigo cards, our unlimited passes to mass transit, within a few days of each other. Pulling my card out of my bag as we arrived back in Paris from London on Friday evening, I was thinking that I needed to get a replacement for the cracked plastic case. Tomorrow, I said to myself. By the time we got to the metro entrance, not five minutes later, my card had slipped out of the case, lost underfoot in the crush of humanity at Gare du Nord.

But no matter. The lady at the Montparnasse branch of Le Club RATP (open on Saturdays and Sundays!) was all smiles and within minutes, both of us had a fresh Navigo pass in hand, no questions asked. Well played RATP. I'm a fan for life.

Contest Winner Revealed

Dear Readers:

You guys are awesome and way too clever. I am overwhelmed by the number of you (46!)who responded even without the promise of a halfway decent prize. Could it be that you are just a wee bit competitive?

At any rate, most of you correctly discerned that the colors for the two lines were inverted. Line 1, the most traveled line in the system thanks to both locals and tourists, should be yellow and line 6 should be green. The real question is this: if so many of you had no trouble detecting the error, what's up with the folks who work for the RATP who mounted it?

Here's the correct version, placed not 10 meters from the one in error:




And now what you've all been waiting for. The glory of winning goes to Laura for coming in with the first correct answer at 9:00 am Paris time. You might enjoy Laura's blog about Paris if you read Italian; or if you're like me and can only pick out a few words, you can just enjoy the photos. Congratulations, Laura! Since you already live in Paris, I'm assuming you don't want an Eiffel Tower keychain and you can buy your own Speculoos spread. Can I bake you a batch of American brownies or send you some tunes? E-mail me at justanotheramericaninparis@yahoo.com and we'll figure it out.

As for some of the other guesses, it's true that line 6 shows only one terminus rather than two. But that's because the Charles de Gaulle stop is the end of the line on the 6, thus there's only one direction you can go on that line from there. Someone else noted that line 2 is missing. While it's true that line 2 does go through this station, you have to take another corridor to get there from the RER tracks.

Well played all. Perhaps there's another contest in this blog's future. If so, I promise to post it later in the day so those stateside have a fair crack at being first to respond.

My First Ever Readers' Contest

Something's amiss in this sign, which I spotted on the platform for the RER A at the Charles de Gaulle — Étoile stop. The first person to correctly identify the error wins the glory and maybe a prize. That is, if I can think of something suitable. Regrettably I don't have much free swag lying about. An Eiffel Tower keychain? A jar of that sinful Speculoos spread? A bootlegged CD of my favorite French/American musical classics?

Leave your answer in the comments section by 8:00 a.m. Paris time on Wednesday the 27th and let's see how it goes. I'm going to change the settings on the comments section so you won't see your answer until all have come in.

Ready, set, go!