La Porte de l'Enfer

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting…

Although Edgar Allen Poe may have been describing the darkness at his “chamber door” in his poem, he also could easily have been describing the entrance to any of the countless metro stations in Paris…(not in reference to absolute darkness, per se, but the feeling of despair is pretty accurate).

Anyway, my travel blog of Paris simply wouldn’t be complete without SOME sort of survival guide for the metro system.

Basically, if you attempt to drive yourself anywhere in Paris, you will die a horrible death, so you’ll be relying pretty heavily on the system of public transportation if you visit the City of Lights. And, oh, what an exciting system it is!

Though I had felt fairly confident in my ability to employ most means of public transportation, I simply could not have prepared in any way for my experiences with the Paris metro and RER systems. Everyone, especially those who don’t have a death wish (see the above note about driving), uses the metro…and the whole system is governed by a different set of rules than those that exist on the surface streets. So, I’m dedicating this blog entry to a few helpful tips I’ve noted during my experiences.

• Say goodbye to any concept of “personal space” you might have had. At some point, regardless of what how often you frequent the metro, you will be squished. Mercilessly. There will be faces and hands and elbows pressed up against you from all sides, and you will be forced to endure this unique form of claustrophobia until you decide to dive toward the exit when your stop finally arrives. Recently, I was so firmly entrenched in a cluster of human bodies that I simply COULD NOT free myself when it was time to disembark. It was horrifying. Consider yourself warned!
• People usually will NOT move out of your way on their own accord as you attempt to enter/exit the metro. A simple “Pardon!” at least alerts them to the fact that you will be barreling through them, and, if you find yourself facing an insurmountable wall of human beings, a more forceful “Excusez-moi, s’il vous plait!” will usually do the trick—and, if you say it with the correct tone of voice, it can work wonders! If all else fails, you may have to resort to gently pushing people aside (accompanied by the aforementioned phrases, of course). Knocking people to the ground should only be used as a last resort. :)
• Only dive for doors if you are CERTAIN you will succeed. The metro doors are NOT the special “safety” kind of doors that will refrain from compacting you should you stand in the threshold while they are closing…so, when you hear the alarm sounding (an alarm that warns you that the doors are about to close), you should NOT still be running for the doors. Often, near the doors, there is a little warning sign showing a cartoon rabbit getting his hand pinched in the door. If the sign were entirely accurate (and…infinitely more grotesque, I suppose), it would show the rabbit being dragged alongside the speeding metro car with his whole arm trapped in between the metal doors. I have seen this happen (almost). A man once got his hand stuck in the door and had to begin running alongside the metro…until he finally freed himself…and was left behind, anyway. So, trust me. Avoiding a two-minute wait for the next metro car is NOT worth losing a limb.
• It pays off to verify that you are going in the right direction. This may seem like a pretty elementary guideline…but…sometimes, when you’re in a hurry, you may have accidentally boarded the metro on the wrong platform. Not that I know this from personal experience or anything…
• Be aware. When you do inevitably find yourself plastered in between foreigners, try to keep tabs on all of your belongings. Basically, if there is a hand in your pocket that ISN’T yours, you should be alarmed…and your wallet is probably now missing.
• Try to remain calm, even if things are looking dire. I was once riding the metro at night, and the train suddenly came grinding to a halt in the middle of the tunnel…and all of the lights went out. Much to my delight, this phenomenon lasted for upwards of five minutes. As much as I led myself to believe that we were doomed, I noticed that everyone else on the train had scarcely moved at all, and no one seemed even remotely concerned. Sure enough, a few moments later, the metro was given life anew, and we arrived at the station shortly thereafter. A good rule of thumb is to avoid panicking unless EVERYONE is panicking. :)
• Be prepared to climb/crawl your way through the station. Sometimes, no matter how careful you are, the turnstile (or automatic door) will malfunction at the entrance to the station, leaving you no other choice but to improvise (because your card will not allow you to rescan it immediately after your first attempt). So, if this happens, you will need to make a very important decision: should you climb over the turnstile or crawl under it? I’ve realized that both methods are equally embarrassing…but no one will really give it a second glance…because it happens to everyone now and then. Even if you are in full view of the RATP workers, you shouldn’t have any problems.
• Finally, by far, my most important tip: if there is a puddle of something on the floor, it’s PROBABLY due to the fact that something disgusting is dripping from the ceiling. Avoid it. Otherwise, you will be sorry. I guarantee it.

Well, I’m sure there are a number of other important things I could warn you about…and I could probably continue this list for another hour or so, but the best way to grow comfortable with the metro system is to simply USE the metro system. And, once you get used to it—despite my foreboding Poe quote at the beginning of this blog entry—it’s really not that bad. Soon, you’ll stop noticing the crazy, singing men roaming the stairwells and the pools of what can ONLY be blood coating the floor of the platforms. Soon, you will learn to ENJOY these things. (Alright, maybe that’s going a bit far…but you get the idea.)

Happy travels!

Et patati et patata

Recently, someone asked me what I like most about living in Paris. At the time, I think I provided some jumbled answer that involved the Eiffel Tower, camembert cheese, the French language, Notre Dame, mini-macaroons, the entire region of Montmartre, and…bread…along with about 50 other things. And, of course, this conversation was IN French, so…I’m sure my answer seemed even less coherent than how I’ve described it here. In retrospect, though, I’ve been trying to reflect on the question a bit more… What IS my favorite thing about living in Paris?

After giving it a decent amount of thought (as in…the 45 seconds it took me to type that last paragraph…), I’ve decided that (one of) my favorite thing(s) about living in Paris is the fact that EVERY activity—for me, at least—is an adventure. Clearly, not all of my time is spent climbing the 1,789 steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower (although I DID do that the other day…and it is…even more exhausting than it sounds, especially due to the fact that we were experiencing one of our first days of 80-degree weather) or roaming the catacombs beneath the city (which I have NOT done yet…but am planning on doing in the near future)…but, in the meantime, day-to-day activities provide a constant thrill for me. (Yes, I am easily amused.) Allow me to provide a few anecdotes to illustrate this point…

Going to the supermarket: For most of my trips to the supermarket, I take the tram (which, conveniently, stops right outside the entrance to my dorm building) down to Porte d’Orléans—a lively part of the city (well, lively for the 14^th arrondissement, anyway) with lots of fresh fruit markets and larger grocery stores. Of course, staring out the window of the tram will, in and of itself, provide a decent amount of entertainment; just the other day, I witnessed a petite, old woman scurrying across the street with a shopping cart OVERFLOWING with full-sized baguettes—enough to last a lifetime, no doubt.

Anyway, once I am safely inside the grocery store (“Franprix” is currently my supermarché of choice), the REAL adventure begins. There are entire aisles packed with every kind of pastry you can imagine. There are about sixty different kinds of jelly. And there is always, ALWAYS an entire section of the store reserved for wine (and you can get it for as cheap as 1 euro…that is, if you’re searching for wine that tastes like paint thinner […as I’m sure you are…]). Just the other day, I spent what felt like a lifetime trying to purchase sugar (to make the instant coffee in my room almost drinkable), which is, apparently, a much harder task than one might think. There are many different kinds of sugar, and it took me a LEAST 10 minutes to deduce that “sucré en poudre” is actually what Americans call granulated sugar and NOT powdered sugar. Whoops. I also once made the mistake of purchasing little sugar pellets…but I’m convinced that they were actually little granules of rat poison (because the so-called “sugar” tasted exactly like a substance that one might use to clean one’s floor…or to simply induce vomiting)—a clever trick to knock off some foolish American tourists, I would think.

Anyway, once it’s time to purchase my groceries, I hand the cashier my money and prepare myself for the fact that they will—almost always—demand that I give them exact change (though I can rarely comply)…and, then, I do my best to stuff my groceries in my backpack…because they usually do not give you bags at the check-out in Paris. Then, I tend to choose to walk back to the dorm (in lieu of taking the tram again), and I’m often rewarded with a near-death experience involving an old man and some kind of motorized scooter.

Receiving a dinner invitation: Now, keep in mind, the dinner invitation I received last night was from my study abroad director, so it wasn’t quite as formal as a normal French dinner would be (i.e. we weren’t expected to bring flowers and chocolates for our hostess, and we weren’t expected to arrive 10-15 minutes late out of politeness…although we WERE about 20 minutes late, anyway, because the RER randomly shut down on our way to dinner…). Anyway, since the dinner was not quite as formal, I wasn’t necessarily expecting a full-blown French dinner experience. But…let’s just say…I’ve never seen—nor been expected to eat—so much food all in one meal.

We started off with drinks and hors-d’oeuvres. There were about seven different bottles of Perrier sparkling water (which is very common with French meals) and four or five different types of juice: apple juice, pineapple juice, apple raspberry litchi juice… You get the idea. And…there were about 50 different types of hors-d’oeuvres on three ENORMOUS platters. Basically, we were already full after this point. But the meal had yet to begin!

The first “course” consisted of chicken and white rice, peanut butter noodles, and a side salad (not customary French cuisine because it was cooked by one of the other American students). Anyway, after the “plat principale” (the aforementioned dishes), it was time for bread and cheese. LOTS of cheese—seven different types, to be exact. Roquefort, camembert, fromage du chevre, and…four other kinds whose names escape me. But, mind you, it was not quite as simple as simply grabbing a piece of cheese and putting it on your plate. There are RULES to this part of the meal. The cheeses must be consumed in a specific order (milder cheeses first and stronger cheeses last). They also must be sliced in a very precise manner; one must know the particular method of slicing each type of cheese, lest the host(ess) be insulted (our hostess said she could not stress this enough)! Additionally, guests are not supposed to sample more than three different types of cheese (and it is STRICTLY forbidden to take more than one slice of the same cheese) because, otherwise, it means that the main course was unfulfilling (however, we were informed that we could violate the three-cheese limit…for the sole purpose of trying all the different types).

And, FINALLY, when we felt as though we COULD NOT consume any more food, dessert arrived! Dessert for us included four different types of macaroons, coconut and pear sorbet, and baked apples, which were stuffed with raspberries, whipped cream, and dried fruit. All in all, it was AMAZING…and we were barely able to walk home afterwards. :)

Okay, well…I hadn’t intended to be QUITE this longwinded…so, I’ll wrap up the entry with one more anecdote!

Opening doors: I have yet to encounter a door in Paris that is EASY to open. Let’s see… If I come into my dormitory, I must enter a code to open the main door. Then, in the vestibule, I must enter the same code to be granted access to the lobby. From the lobby, I must—yes, you guessed it—type in that SAME code to enter the actual hall of dorm rooms. The door to my dorm room, however, is a bit trickier. It requires a key card…but said key card is actually just a plastic square with lots of holes in it. There is a slot on the door, and one MIGHT assume that you need to swipe the key card in the slot (i.e. I assumed this repeatedly when I first arrived…and could NOT understand why my room remained locked), but actually, you must leave the key card IN the door to enable the door to unlock. Only once you are safely inside can you remove the key card.

Trying to exit buildings in Paris can also prove to be a challenge. When I leave my study abroad office, I must solve various puzzles in order to exit each door (of which there are three). The first door has a latch that must be pushed to the left, and then the door (which weighs about three tons) must be pulled inward. The second door has a button AND a handle; one must depress the button and pull the handle at the same time to pass this test. And…to this day, I have no idea how to exit the third and final door. I have never accomplished this task myself; I have always relied on one of the other students to do so. One time, I was faced with the challenge alone…and I’m fairly certain that the only real solution is to scream for help until someone from outside decides to open the door and enter the building, thus freeing you from your captivity. (And that’s exactly what happened…minus the screaming.) So…yeah. Opening doors in Paris is an adventure.

Well, I’m sure I could ramble on and on about these things for another solid hour or so, but, for your sanity (and mine), I think I’ll bid you farewell for now. I’m off to make some disgusting instant coffee (with my non-rat poison sugar, mind you) and finish up my homework—two things that, unfortunately, do not involve adventures of any kind.

Au révoir!

Trop de choses à faire

I was out walking a few minutes ago, enjoying the sunshine (yes, at 9:30 PM…because, in Paris, the sun doesn’t set until about 10…although most stores close long before that), and I found myself pondering the “list of goals” that my study abroad program asked me to create at the very beginning of our orientation week. At the time, I wrote spectacularly broad things, like “Improve my ability to speak and understand French” and “Learn more about French culture.” It was kind of a deer-in-the-headlights moment for me (they gave us about two minutes to write down our goals and pass them forward), so none of my responses were overly creative. As I walked this evening—and was nearly run down by an oncoming bicyclist (a daily experience for me)—I thought about some slightly more interesting, specific goals that I hope to fulfill before the end of my journey. And, now that I’m back in my dorm room, I figure…why not publish them in my blog for the entire world to see?

So, before I leave the City of Lights, I will…

…go at least a week without needing to consult my “Paris Pratique” map. So far, I’m not sure I’ve managed even a day.

…have the ability to get off the metro without stumbling around in bewilderment, searching for the appropriate “SORTIE” (exit) sign. It’s more confusing than you might think. I promise.

…never again board the metro without first verifying that it is, in fact, the correct line. This has already happened to me twice, and I can scarcely describe the sense of disappointment you feel when you realize that you are now twice as far away from home as you were before boarding the metro in the first place.

…learn that I CANNOT transfer to line 3 at the République station. How many times must I see the large red “X” on the map before this sinks into my brain?!

…enter the “W.C.” (bathroom) in my dorm JUST ONCE without tripping over the tiny step in the doorway. Honestly. Who thought that was a good idea?!

…understand why the little, purple bakery near Raspail refuses to sell me a café crème unless I also purchase a pastry…even though they price them individually on the menu.

…sample escargots.

…remember that, for whatever reason, European pop cans—unlike their American counterparts—are weighted on the bottom…so they make you think you still have a sip or two left…when, actually, the can is empty. Next time, I will not be fooled!

…answer “oui” to the question, “Avez-vous une carte Franprix?” (“Do you have a Franprix card?”) when I’m at the check-out in my local grocery store. In reality, this goal will never be realized…but I like to dream big.

…figure out why, on certain days, there is no hot water in the morning…and, on other days, the water from the faucet is hot enough to brew tea.

…decipher at least one word that the man at the front desk says to me, despite the fact that I’m not even entirely convinced that he speaks French. Just ONE word. That’s all I want.

…no longer fear the automatic doors in the metro stations, even though I’ve seen them mercilessly crush several people for no reason. I’m getting a bit better at quelling this fear, but there’s always that lingering thought: Will I be the next victim? Seriously. These doors are probably the scariest things I’ve encountered in Paris thus far (aside from, perhaps, the string-wielding fiends in Montmartre).

…splurge on an expensive pastry from either Laduree or Angelina’s and not feel bad about the fact that it cost me the same amount as about five meals in the local cafeteria.

And…the list could go on forever, I think. Of course, these are just my practical, day-to-day goals (excluding visiting all of the wonderful sights I intend to see). You’ll be pleased to know that I did meet one of my previous goals this morning: “…decide which metro station is the most disgusting.” The winner, you ask? Chatelet - Les Halles. It was a very tough decision…but, when I passed a man shamelessly urinating on the central flight of steps into the station, I knew I had made the right choice. Most disgusting metro station…without a doubt.

Well, I suppose that’s all for now. Better get going on that list of goals!

Oh, and here are a few more photo albums, as well:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2036205&id=69102962&l=f5dcfde07a

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2036291&id=69102962&l=c340dad8ce

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2036450&id=69102962&l=b26eb801c1

Until next time…!

Il est interdit de fonctionner

There is nothing more satisfying, I’ve discovered, than realizing that you are slowly beginning to understand the seemingly incomprehensible city of Paris.  Where once things all looked identical, you eventually begin to notice certain landmarks—your favorite crêperie by la Fontaine de Saint-Michel, a familiar jardin near Notre Dame, a distinctive statue across from Rue de Rivoli…   Maybe navigating around the streets of Paris won’t involve perpetual confusion after all.

And once this small amount of satisfaction sinks in, the charm of day-to-day life in the city is nearly inexplicable.  You walk around the streets with much more confidence, and you’ve long since memorized the most common routes on the metro.  You share a knowing smile with the locals as a group of tourists gawk at the map on the wall; maybe you even give them some quick directions…because, after all, you know your way around the city.  You know that you can connect from the RER to the metro at Saint-Michel Notre Dame if you take a quick stroll through the underground tunnels.  You know that everyone is getting on or off the metro at Châtelet.  And you even know that, if you happen to be taking line 14, you’ll be in for a real treat, as it’s one of the newest lines in the system; it even has automatic safety doors!

Basically, you’re one of the locals.

But Paris has a funny way of keeping your self-confidence in check.  As I said before, when you start to get a handle on the ins and outs of Parisian culture, you’ll start to feel pretty pleased with yourself.  But don’t worry.  There are always some nasty surprises around the bend, just to keep things interesting.

So, you start off your day, ready for anything.  You plan out your metro route, and you’re all set to go!  After a few stops on the RER, though, you notice that the train is slowing down a bit.  The lights flicker, and the train grinds to a halt.  There’s a garbled announcement from the conductor (which is, I assure you, utterly incomprehensible because Monsieur le Contrôleur, it seems, does not pause between any of his words, and he must be standing about 20 feet away from his microphone).  Either way, everyone sighs and sits down or exits the train.  What on earth…?  Oh.  Random power outage, you realize.  The train somehow rolls into the next station, and you make a quick exit.  Time for a transfer!  So, you wander through the RER station and research a new way to get to your destination on the metro system.  Unfortunately, you discover, after walking about half a mile in the underground passages (several of which reek of urine, you notice), that you’re in line for the wrong metro.  You wanted the lime green line, not the puke green line.  Crap.  Several hundred stairs later, you’re waiting on the platform, only slightly annoyed.  As the metro approaches, you hear shrieking and what may or may not be singing…and you discover that there is some kind of demonstration occurring on the train.  People are hanging out windows and shouting what can only be a slew of French obscenities.  Sarkozy?  Sa mere?  You don’t want to know.  You patiently wait for the next train and board about five minutes later, compacted into yet another crowded car, mere inches from someone’s armpit.  And that someone—much to your delight—has not bathed for a few millennia.  Chouette.  You are finally able to squeeze your way off the metro at your stop, are nearly pushed onto the tracks by someone running to catch another train (without so much as a “Pardon!” [or, more appropriately, an “Excusez-moi de vous avoir presque tué!“]), and are all-too-eager to drag yourself back to street level.  But, of course, before you emerge, an enormous drop of metro-sewage-water lands in your eye.  And it burns.  Voila!  Your morning is complete.

More and more, I’m familiarizing myself with the way of life in Paris, and I can’t even begin to express how exciting it is to know my well around the city and start marking down my favorite cafés, crêperies, and patisseries.  But things in Paris—like anywhere else—don’t always go the way you expect them to go, and I’ve learned that you have to be willing and able to adapt your plans on the fly.  Metro lines shut down, workers go on strike, and, often, people will try to run you over with their Smart cars.  But take a deep breath, shrug it off, avoid the toothless men selling mini Eiffel Tower statues on the street corner, and you’ll be fine.  Really.

The stamp machine in the post office gave me some valuable advice today that I feel everyone should heed when traveling around Paris for any great length of time: Patientez, s’il vous plait. :)

Bonne journée!

Sights and Sounds (but mostly sights)

Well, I don't know if I have the energy to write a full blog entry at the moment...but I did just upload my first album of Paris photos onto Facebook!

So, here is the link for the album (complete with captions, of course), in case you don't HAVE Facebook...  Otherwise, just log in and you can view it from there.  :)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2036146&id=69102962&l=b30169059d

If the wireless at my dorm continues to cooperate, there might even be another album in the near future...  Who knows?

Anyway, enjoy!  A bientot!