The Inaccurate Tourist

13. Bells

Write when you have something to say -- write what you know -- enjoy what you write -- just write. I've been finding it a bit difficult to keep to my schedule, but it hasn't been because nothing is happening. I've been enjoying the springtime. The next time that you move to a foreign city, I recommend doing it in the winter. Every day gets better, brighter and more colorful.

When I wrote the original Hundred Steps from Chez Moi log, I had actually prepared some research about Cardinal Wyszynski and his beliefs. I read about the Church Notre-Dame-du-Travail. I discovered the village of Plaisance and the people that lived and worked there, and how it transformed from a hamlet, to a working class neighbourhood, to a warehouse (entrepôt) district, and then subject to the real estate speculation that makes any property within Paris a prize. I learned that "le mur murant Paris rend Paris murmurant" (the wall surrounding Paris causes the city to murmur). Then I got tired, scribbled a couple of lines and dropped it on the website.

I don't really have any apologies for that -- I've got things to do. I'm just waving away with my right hand to ensure that you don't notice that my left hand quickly snapped some photos again but this time I didn't have time to take the hundred steps. These are only TEN steps away from my apartment. And I didn't do any research this time.

For example, who is Jérome Bozel and why was he living in this apartment between these years, and why does he get a plaque? I'd love to appear strongly knowledgable, but I don't really know. Is he still alive?

I did find out the purpose of the Place de Catalogne this week. If you recall, I described it as a very large brick circle, perfectly flat but not level, rendering it useless as a roller rink. In the picture, the street is level -- the shiny circle is perfectly and exactly tilted. Why is the circle shiny? When the weather gets warm enough, the water is turned on, and the entire Place de Catalogne is covered with running water as a unique and modern fountain.

I just noticed Sandra's Ladies Shoes across the street. I pass by it nearly every day.

Anyway, like all Parisians, I have a Carte d'Orange which permits unlimited use of the métro through a number of zones. When you come to visit me, you'll probably get one as well (or risk looking like a tourist with their little green tickets). Either way, there's another non-fixed cost to riding the métro -- the panhandlers. Sometimes several times during the same trip, you can expect to hear "Excusez-moi mesdames et messieurs pour vous déranger..." followed by a speech that sounds practiced and effective. Less frequently, the appeal is made silently with a slips of paper placed on each empty seat and then collected, hoping for your centimes. It would be irresponsible for me to suggest any social policy -- you can feel free to respond or ignore the request.

Likewise with the buskers (who frequently haul in taped accompaniment with a speaker on a caddy) -- you can hear all levels of expertise on all sorts of instruments, from accordeons to clarinets, from brass quartets to lone guitarists at night playing Pink Floyd. Admittedly, sometimes La Vie en Rose wears a little thin, and for some reason the Love Theme from The Godfather seems to be particularly popular.

In my opinion, you should do what makes you feel comfortable. Be prepared to walk away saying "non, merci" if you feel like you're being scammed (particularly for requests for charitable donations in the metro and around high tourist areas).

The crest of the City of Paris is a three masted sailing ship on a red and blue background -- in fact, the colours of the French flag come from this crest (with the Royal white added). Although I took this frame capture from street level, this stonework is immediately across from my apartment.

A couple of other things -- the street vendors have stopped selling marrons (chestnuts roasted on their homemade stoves in the biting cold), and had been selling tied bunches of narcisses (daffodils). Apparently daffodil season is over, this week they are now all standing outside the metro station selling tied bunches of lilas (lilacs). I'll keep you updated -- they all seem to switch products at the exact same time.

I also picked up Monsieur Bleu LaPeluche, a stuffed cat made by a group of elderly French who are raising money for social outings. To be quite frank, M. Knucklebunny has been seriously neglecting his duties as mascot (always absent, claiming to be trapped by his fingers in excruciating pain by a metro door), so I'm convening a focus group to determine if perhaps M. Bleu might do a better job.

And remember kids, Monsieur Knucklebunny says "When pushing someone under a metro train, use the palm of your hand to shove him squarely in the flat of his back. While it may look more accidental to push him by his shoulder, this might cause a mid-air spin that permits him to pull YOU with him!".

Oh yeah, I visited the Parc de la Bagatelle this long weekend and I discovered that a "belvedere" is not an English housekeeper that comes and helps families with Moral Issues because the mother is going to law school. Who knew? It was a beautiful day for a walk in the cultured gardens -- I was torn between bringing the video camera and leaving it at home. I enjoyed the afternoon with my book (Harry Potter) and I'll take pictures of the next park. Promise.

Do you know what a belvedere is? Do you think the cast was sad or relieved when he got married and moved to Africa?

Is anybody going to attempt a Save Monsieur Knucklebunny campaign?

Did you know that at Easter time in France, all the bells in the Church go to Rome, pick up a bunch of chocolate eggs for the children and hide them before returning to the steeples? Kind of makes the Easter Bunny seem a bit more logical, doesn't it?

Posted by The Inaccurate Tourist at April 5, 2002 12:00 PM