Paris départs: London, Brussels, Agadir

I love Paris also for the fact that from here I can easily reach many points dear or not so dear to my heart easily. It used to take me 6 hours (from New York), 12 hours (from LA) or 24 hours (! from Melbourne) on a 747 to get to London. Now I can hop on the Eurostar and be in London a mere 2 and a half hours later. One can also hop on the Thalys and be in Brussels in just over an hour (and to Amsterdam and Cologne in about 4 hours). Train travel was never much of an option when I was living in the US or Australia (The only train line I took often was the NJ Transit from Princeton to NYC. Though indeed I still wish to travel the Orient Express, both the European version and its equivalent in Australia that traverses the continent from east to west). Train travel in France is fast, comfortable, if not so cheap. Most of the cities in France are linked to Paris via the high speed trains, le TGV (Trains à grande vitesse).

Le TGV remains one of the technological prides of France. It reduces travelling time within France considerably and links Paris to many of the other cities in the country, if exactly not between these cities themselves. For the TGV, Paris is still very much the center point from where all trains depart. Now, we can be in Marseille in just three hours and the new line to Strasbourg has just been celebrated with great fanfare (Paris-Strasbourg can now be done in just over 2 hours instead of 4. This also has a side effect of reducing air fares between these two cities considerably). Considering that many Parisians are settlers who maintain close psychological ties with their terre in the province (province refers to anything outside the Paris city limits, by the way), le TGV that progressively makes every town within comfortable reach from Paris no doubt contributes to the mental well being of many Parisians.

Paris has several main stations (gares) from which trains depart depending on your destination. Gare de Lyon handles, for instance, trains to the southeast such as Marseille. Gare Montparnasse for trains to Bordeaux and La Rochelle or the southwest, Gare de l’Est handles trains to the east such as Strasbourg and Luxembourg for the foreign destination. Gare du Nord is probably the station that you will get to know if you arrive from London via Eurostar or from Brussels via Thalys. This could mean that if you travel from Brussels to Marseille, you have to change not only trains but hike it from one station to another. But all in all, trains are very efficient and popular means of transport in France and from France to neighboring countries. Besides, you get to enjoy the scenery even at over 300km/h. Again, trains might not always be the cheapest travel options from Paris. These days, travelling to London by air can be much cheaper than travelling there by train, for instance. Checking the internet for special fares can be rewarding though. In Paris, best to avoid departing on Friday nights (when everyone goes to their province) and Sunday nights (when everyone comes back to the city) when all the stations would be a madhouse of people on the verge of a mental breakdown for fear of missing their trains or the last metro.

Paris - London (Londres)
Whenever I feel nostalgic for an anglo life style, I take a day trip from Paris to London to get my dose of friendly and polite waiters/waitresses, munchies and eating at all hours of the day (in Paris many restaurants do not serve out outside the hours associated with eating, namely lunch and dinner. Forget trying to get something cooked between 4 and 7 at night, for instance). I leave at the reasonable hour of 10 am, arrive in London in time for lunch (London is one hour behind Paris) of maybe fish and chips (Of course, none of my French friends could understand that I sometime have a craving for this supposedly not so refined food), do a bit of window shopping (especially the Australian shoe/boots shop Blundstone), take in the Tate modern and take the train back after a spot of coffee towards 19h (or a ride on the London Eye) to be back in Paris at 11 pm in time to go for drinks with friends in Oberkampf street.

To me, no two other cities seem to be so different and so alike as London and Paris. They are alike as both have the big city feel that you also get in New York. You feel the rush, you feel the energy and possibilities in both cities. But Londoners can still be polite even if in a hurry, euh, unlike Parisians. My image of Paris (generalization, of course, based on salient features, but as you know, this is a very basic cognitive tendency among humans) is Chic and Conformist. Of London, I have a schizophrenic image that is both conservative and punk, and creative. If London was a gay man, he would be dressed in tailored grey suit or in leather with all the accessories. If Paris was a gay man, he would be dressed very chic with attention to the last details (including how his scarf should be tied just so around his rather wrinkled neck, for instance). Despite the individualism that Parisians may attempt at how they look, they would still conform to this idea of chic that is shared by everyone. You cannot define chic alone!

Paris - Brussels (Bruxelles)
On those getaway days when I don’t feel like bringing my umbrella, I take the Thalys to Brussels instead. Arriving in Brussels’ Gare du Midi (or Zuid), you can take the tram to go to the Grand Place and admire this little spot that features 17th century buildings or older (eg. the Hotel de Ville) with eclectic architectures reflective of the region. Brussels overall has wonderful art nouveau buildings. Everything is nearby, including the Manneken Pis (Manekin Pis) which I imagind being a lot bigger that it actually is. Among the myriad of cafés in the Grand place, there is also a wonderful bagel shop that serves good bagels with all kinds of toppings. You put in your order downstairs and bring it upstairs in a room that looks out on the Grand Place and is decorated as if the living room of a friend. Parks are wonderful in Brussels including the Parc Cinquantenaire and the Royal Art Park (both, by the way, are very cruisy at night). And of course, the French fries in Brussels are the best (I have heard that Brussels claimed to be the birth place of French fries?) to be eaten with the special mayonnaise and not ketchup. And don’t forget Belgian chocolates. Paris may be known as the place for fashion haute couture, but Brussels is the place for haute couture of chocolate! If Paris has Jean Paul Gaultier, Brussels has Pierre Marcolini!
If chocolate could substitute for sex, I can understand why the Belgians do not make love as much as the French (Again, stereotype!). Once I went to a Parisian bar before taking in a movie on the 5th arrondissement. During the conversation with the bartender I mentioned that I was going to see the film ‘La vie sexuelle des Belges.’ (The sex life of Belgians). Without missing a beat he said that oh well that should be a short movie! Back to Brussels, shopping streets are all within walking distance from the Grand Place, including an aeroplane model store (for my aviation enthusiasts friends) on the small street just behind the Grand place on the cafés side. Brussels I find small enough to have that small town feeling, but still offers enough to visitors. In both London and Brussels, you can buy day tickets that you can use for unlimited travel on their public transport system.

Paris - Agadir
Paris also is well served by air service to many points that could serve as weekend getaways. Morocco represents an exotic destination reachable in a mere flying time of 3 hours. One grey January in Paris, I took a short break to go to Agadir, in southern coast of Morocco. Three hours after I left Orly on a 737 of Royal Air Maroc and said good bye to snowy and cold Paris, I was in my shorts lying on the beach sipping exotic fruit juices in sunny weather. The water was a bit cold but hey, the sand was warm and the men were hot. And to find a totally different country climatically, linguistically, culturally, politically and in many other ways just 3 hours away (and not very expensive either, the ticket prices were about the same as if not lower than flying to other parts of Western Europe) what more could one ask? Hotels were reasonable and often right by the beach. All this after just a few clicks on the internet and, Voila, you find yourself surrounded by warm friendly people who are eager to welcome you to their country.

Being so different, Agadir/Morocco could be very eye opening. The difference between the rich and the poor is still visible as it is in many developing countries. I was invited by a new Moroccan friend to his home that was probably more appropriately described as a hut. No flooring, no toilet inside and reached via a small dark alleyway that inclines sharply outside the city limit (I had to admit that I started to question my decision to go home with this man of whom I knew nothing about then. He turned out to be the sweetest man! Despite being poor, he was generous and insisted on giving me a cadeau of very kitsch plastic yellow flowers that my Paris friends would find simply horrifying before he took me back to my hotel. I still indeed have the flowers to remind me of him, though they are well hidden in my closet). In contrast, another (Moroccan) friend that I met through the gay network lived in a beautiful traditional house that incorporates different levels, open spaces and huge!

Restaurants vary in prices depending on whether they cater to tourists or not (though all is still cheap compared to Paris). I ate at the port of Agadir with a Moroccan friend, eating freshly caught fish cooked right there with salad and bread and it cost the same as drinking two cafés au lait (or crème as we call it in Paris) in a café back in Paris. Expect to pay more in tourist restaurants, naturally. Many restaurants in the city don’t serve wine or alcoholic drinks either, though the hotel bars were very well stocked.

In Agadir, I understood for the first time the ugly tourist concept: Moneyed men from rich countries who buy off and surround themselves with young men. Having observed one closely in a restaurant (where the tourist flaunted his cash for all to see, with an apparent sheer conviction that he could buy everyone there with his money), I slunk away shame faced as if these moneyed men’s behaviors unavoidably reflected on me. I suppose despite the fact that I did not see any link whatsoever between these men and myself, I am well aware that the people here might lump us in the same category of tourists. On the other hand, walking around late at night, I was also approached by local guys who right away declared their love (or at least their availability) though I felt they also anticipated that you give them something in return (ie., money). Money talks I guess. And it beckons those who are in need, late at night in Agadir.

Agadir is not one of the imperial cities that have beautiful traditional architectures or typically Morrocan feel to it as Fez or Marrakech. The city was destroyed by an earthquake some forty years ago (1960) and was therefore rebuilt new. Nonetheless, the people, the beach and the weather make this place very special. There is a center for local artworks where you can see local artists at work. There is the traditional market or souk. There is also a birdpark right in the middle of the city which, despite its name, strangely included non-bird 4 legged animals! Walking around this park, you escape the hustle and bustle of the city and car noises that are typical of any city. Along the beach, you find cafes and places where you can get fresh juice of fruits that you cannot even name but are simply delicious. People come to the beach to surf (body suits needed for January though) or just to lie on the warm sand and sun with a book as I did. Oh yes, and you can ride camels on the beach too.

Paris lover 1

Frédéric was my first lover after I moved to Paris. Soon after my arrival here, I acquired the habit of taking long walks late at night along the river Seine, especially along the Quai st Bernard. One night, I spotted a young man carrying a shopping bag from Sentou. Now, if you shop there (it’s a shop for home decoration) it almost always means that you have good taste! One look at the guy, and I would not have cared if he had taste or not…he was so sexy. This place, being known as a gay cruising place, no excuse was necessary to strike up a conversation (if indeed one wishes to converse before going into the bushes). But I think of Miss Manners and I decided to talk instead of simply make myself scarce in the bushes and hoping that he would follow. Thank you Miss Manners, this turned out to be a good decision.
We talked until very late and he walked me halfway home (OK, I lied, we did go into the bushes for a bit). We exchanged phone numbers and thus began my first Paris love story.

In many ways, Frederic was the epitome of what I thought Parisian lovers ought to be. Impulsive, passionate, emotional complete with a touch (in fact, a truckload) of existential crises that would surge in unlikely moments such as between love makings. He called me at least 5 times during the day just to say that he thought of me, even though at night we would see other. I was on cloud 9 and could tell that I was falling for him just because he was falling for me. The law of reciprocity? Who knows and who cares.

The first night, we met up at the café Beaubourg. Among books, handsome waiters, cigarette smoke, candles, flowing drapes and the Centre George Pompidou in front who could help but fall in love ? We walked out and he declared right then that he was falling in love with me. I looked him in the eye and said, as any reasonable person (or any new Parisian) would, that he barely knew me. He said, (translated) Let’s fuck and get to know each other, which sounded just parfait perfect in French. This suggestion is not, by the way so French, but just so gay the world over: we have sex to get to know each other (and not the other way around!). We went back to my place and we got to know each other again and again.

But, this was, I thought, so unFrench. Where are the dramas and the crises that I see in French films? Well, I should have known, as indeed cloud 9 soon descended to meet mother earth. First off, him being Jewish, our sorties in my neighbourhood was a bit awkward (my neighbourhood is a gay and a jewish neighbourhood). He risked and therefore was wary of running into those he had always known since he was a child (whilst having me in his arms). Lesson number 1: Frenchmen may be crazy, irrational and impulsive when it comes to love but only when not in their neighbourhood and risk being found out by family friends. (This explains partly why French lovers are considered great by foreigners. I guess they meet them overseas and not in their home turf!).

Drama or crisis number two, it is so true that no single good guy is available once you reach a certain age and beyond. He indeed told me that not only did he have a b.f. but that they were living together. This idea could excite some people, but once I decided I was in love I had no desire to share him with anyone else. The problem was that his lover was coming back soon from his travel. Our time together would then be reduced to afternoon trysts. And in a typical French fashion, Frederic looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if none of it was his fault, C’est la Vie ! (The existence of this lover could also explain why he was reticent about walking arms in arms as lovers do with me in my AND in his neighborhoods)

Third, despite the few remaining days before the return of his lover, our time together was constantly interrupted by his neurotic friends. I could not figure out why he had so many neurotic friends nor attribute this to his being gay, being French or being Jewish or all three. In any case, he would spend hours on the phone talking to his hysterical friends that seemed to have one existential crisis after another. He of course thought I was being so insensitive when I told him that if his friends wished to commit suicide 5 times a day, maybe he should just let them and see. No, existential crises are very real and had to be taken very seriously, including getting into fight with your new lover, or should I say plaything, seeing now that the cat (his real lover) is out of the bag. However, between his own and his friends' existential crises there was hardly time for us two to exist!

Through Frederic I learned that long friendship is very important to my French friends. Many keep in touch and still live near friends that they knew since they were still in shorts! This cannot be more untrue for me, I have not lived near my old friends for along time what with all the moves that I have done as well as those of my friends. My French friends seem to not have this idea of mobility at the price of putting distance between themselves and their friends or family. If they do move (from province to Paris, most often), they do go back pretty often as if to recharge their battery by breathing the air of their terre.

Finally, to make matters worse, I was becoming allergic to his cats (Actually, I just said that to convince myself that Frederic and I were indeed never meant to be. The cats were in fact lovely and certainly were less neurotic than his friends).

So, despite the Halva that he brought me, bought from a special Jewish store, our love started to be less sweet than sugar.
The intense love that he felt for me seemed to have died as suddenly as it appeared. Oh, C'est la vie I thought, munching on the Halva and getting a tooth ache.

I consoled myself saying that this is Paris where love is in the air that one could catch it as quickly as one could lose it. No worries, I told myself in my most optimistic logical frame of mind, the wind will surely blow this way again. But then I picked up the phone and expressed my angoisse to my new French friends. This is how we get to know each other here, non ? When in Paris, do as Parisians do.

French-speak in Paris

In a clothing store once, I heard a booming voice of an American man who asked for the store manager. Once identified, the man told the manager loudly for all to hear how bad the service in the store was. It’s true that there was a long line of costumers waiting to pay with only one flustered employee present at the cashier, while the other employees were standing around chatting among themselves. This is unlikely to happen in the US where a new line would be opened to speed up the process, especially when other employees can leave their less urgent tasks (in the case of the aforementioned store, they were in fact doing nothing very urgently!).
What happened next was a classic French reaction I thought: the manager looked at the American and calmly said Je ne parle pas Anglais, Monsieur (I don’t speak English, Sir). I found this hilarious as just a few minutes before I spotted him speaking reasonably comprehensible English to another costumer. This incident illustrates many things that I had to learn to live in Paris. In this particular blog, about learning French.

I arrived here with very basic French which was considered to be OK in Melbourne when conversing with my French native speaker professors but was woefully inadequate in Paris. I quickly realized that not all Parisians articulate as clearly as my lovely French professors nor speak as slowly. This, to say the least, was extremely frustrating. In super markets I only bought stuff that I could find myself as the idea of asking and explaining something I need in French to a store employee (if he or she can be found) was enough to make me sweat (Once I was looking for baking soda and ended up with salt). When I went to a boulangerie (pastry shop) full of costumers and everyone was shouting their order, I slunk away defeated as first of all I was sure that they would not understand what I wanted, and furthermore I had no idea what the name is for each of the wonderful cakes and pastries they had on display (I did come back when the shop was rather empty, and now I find boulangers who put little notes indicating the name of each of the delicious products). Yes I will take a Paris-brest (round pastry cut in half and filled with cream…now this does not particularly make me think of Paris or of Brest), a Divorce (shaped of two round parts made up of éclair with café on one side and chocolate on the other, separated by a line of creamy topping. Now I would probably call it marriage rather than divorce since the two eclairs of coffee and chocolate usually are united!) and a Cochon (cochon means pig…these little wonderful almond paste cake is shaped like a pig and is pink. At least for this one you can guess where the name comes from).

Some words in French are just too difficult for Anglophones and other foreigners to pronounce. The letter u for instance that is pronounced by (this is an advice from a friend) first positioning your mouth and lips as if you were going to pronounce ‘ee’ (as in the first syllable in the word event). And whilst maintaining this position, you attempt to say the letter u (as in prude) instead. You got it now. But having to make all this preparation before actually producing the word containing the letter u, I would have lost the person I am speaking to (especially waiters in Paris cafes who always seem to be in a hurry and will give you 3 seconds flat to reel off your order as he was already turning to go and will undoubtedly let at least half an hour pass before noticing you again). Up to today, for some reason I still have problem pronouncing DEUX (or two). Consequently, when I buy cigarettes, I buy either 1 or 3 packs but never 2! Another maddening thing is the nasal sound that I never knew could vary in so many ways as in French.

french courses
I did follow a French course in Paris that was somewhat intensive. The class met for a couple hours everyday. This did help a bit but was simply not fast enough for me. I needed to understand and speak French quick. Sure, the course was great for making a lot of interesting and international friends to have coffees and go out with, but not enough French to get me to the level I wished to have. I finally decided to fork out a rather (for me) a lot of money to improve my French and enrolled in an immersion program in Nice, in the south of France. I arrived there and was promptly escorted to the apartment where I was to stay for the two weeks program (Most students stay for one month, but I could not imagine spending so much money and thus only stayed for half the time and paid half price). The program starts the next morning at 8 with breakfast with students and professors. All conversation was to be in French only and each foreign word pronounced would bring a small amount of monetary penalty that would be put in a jar to contribute to our end of program party. You can imagine breakfast on the first day was a rather silent affair with lots of smiles on the part of the students. The professors fired away though, with their clear and well articulated French whilst we students nodded and smiled.

After breakfast, we divided into small groups and followed different professors. There are different exercises that are far away from the traditional teaching methods found in most language courses or schools. Games, presentation, films, listening to the radio, reading the newspaper, you name it we did it. The aim of the program was to understand and be understood in French, no matter what your accent. This was rather successfully done by speaking French exclusively from breakfast until dinner time involving professors and small number of students.
Like children, we also learn different names of food and French cuisine during lunch and dinner as well as table manners. For instance, the person on the right of the host usually is the guest of honor. We always start with entrée (in the US we call this appetiser), followed by plat principal (in the US, entrée), followed by wonderful French cheeses and finished up with dessert. Espresso coffee was served at the end, though cigarettes had to be smoked outside (so unFrench!). The French I thought was rather rigid with this order when eating. Despite numerous attempts to ask waiters to bring my coffee together with dessert which I like to do, I was rarely successful to have them both at the same time in cafés and restaurants.

The program also arranged excursions to museums and we learned to talk and make comments about art in French. Funny, artistic comments made in French just sound more intelligent even when saying nothing. A wonderful professor was a very spunky older female (small, white haired, and dressed not at all like a French person but more like someone from New Mexico, you know, outdoorsy) who also taught us argots or slang words. This turned out to be very useful in my everyday life!
The emphasis of the program being comprehension and expression, we did not have to do homework (aside from thinking about presentations for the next day) nor take lots of notes but did listen and express ourselves a lot. And it turned out to be very successful. A woman from Australia whose French was non existent at the start of the program could a couple weeks later do a decent presentation in class. I was very very impressed.

The program, being expensive, attracts a rather special clientele. In my group, there were lawyers from large US firms handling French companies and thus having branch offices here, UN workers, and a PDG of a known multi national company. Interesting to observe how contexts influence our behaviors. These professionals, within a couple of days, were transformed to misbehaving high school students who giggled at the silliest things. We had a blast, and at the end of my two week stay, we even had a blast in French!

For a long time after my course I measured my progress in French using a method a prof there suggested to students: I listen to the station France Info which repeats the same news over and over again. I remember the first time my group listened in on the news from France Info. After one run, the professor asked us what we understood. Well, we sort of got the words like Australie, tennis, and that’s about all. We listened and listened again until we got the gist of the different news. Back at home in Paris I knew I was making progress as I was able to understand the whole news with fewer and fewer cycles with time. And now, I understand everything the first time around. Yes!

France/french today
Don’t despair if you don’t speak French, though. Today, many young French speak English and love speaking English. In restaurants in Paris you may be spoken to because you speak English (how different to stories of Americans who were treated badly because they could not speak French before…yes, times they are a changing. But remember the story at the beginning of this blog!!). It is still a good idea to say a few words in French to show that you try. The French appreciate it when non speakers attempt to speak French and will gladly continue the conversation in English. These, in my experience, happen mostly with younger French. So, say Bonjour (Good day), Bonsoir (Good evening), Merci (Thank you), Excusez moi (Excuse me) when striking a conversion (Also, Parlez vous Anglais ? do you speak English? Can I buy you a drink? Je t'invite pour un verre ?). Oh, by the way, don’t ever call the waiters Garçon despite what your French language or guide books say…better call them Monsieur and you will get a much better service.

The French language itself is evolving and incorporates foreign words at least in everyday speak. Of course there is a French academy watchdog of the French language that decides what new words can now be considered part of the French vocabulary…this probably explains why people buy dictionaries every year. An interesting observation is that the French adopt a lot of English words in their everyday speak but the meaning or use of these words could sometimes be slightly different to their original meaning in English. Take for instance the word People. For the French, People (sometimes spelled Pipol, or the French spelling for the English pronunciation) means those who are currently considered the in-crowd or trend setters, such as known artists, DJs, actors/actresses etc. Another is le weekend which means weekend of course. However, sometime the French would shorten it to just le week. So when someone say I will call you ce week, this means this weekend and not this week! Cool is used a lot too as in C’est cool (meaning hey that’s fine with me or it’s fine or that's great or I like it, depending on the intonation).

There are lots of Anglophones in Paris. There are also places where we speak English, like the American church, different social expat groups and many bars that cater mostly to Anglophone clienteles (Irish, English and Australian bars, American and Australian restaurants etc.). But why be in France when you only go to Anglophone places? Allez (Come on), let yourself go and be French (at least while you’re here). C’est cool !

Oh by the way, I just had to put in the example of the store situation at the top because if there is one word that I find the French have yet to learn it's indeed SERVICE (let's not even dream of Service with a smile).

Paris public transport

Having spent my pre-driving years in LA, I of course did not know that efficient public transport could exist and be useful. This changed when I first moved to NYC. I fell in love with the subway and would take it even at 3 am from the village to go uptown. I would be the only passenger in the car and I could sing, dance and shout to my heart’s content. This, unfortunately I cannot do in Paris as the subway or metro in Paris does not run all night (stops around midnight weeknights and around 2 AM on weekends).

But the system is, at least in my experience, much more efficient, frequent and feels very much a part of the Parisian experience (In New York, I think the yellowcabs and not the subway have this role of a NY experience). The web of the metro is such that you are never too far away from a metro station wherever you are in the city. Granted Paris is actually quite small and not spread out compared to many American or Australian cities, let alone Los Angeles. In general, public transport (metro, buses) in Paris is excellent and fast and comfortable.



Paris metro
To use the metro, one can purchase a ticket at windows or automated machines found in stations (Look for the letter M sign in yellow). Individual tickets cost about 1.50 euros (check ratp.fr to get the latest tariff). Or you can save a couple euros by buying a carnet de tickets (10 tickets for which you get a reduction for each individual ticket). A ticket is valid for one time travel only. So, if you have to change lines, do not go out of the station as this will mean that you would have to pay for another ticket. Follow the sign Correspondence (transfer) and the line number that you have to take. Most likely you will have to go through long tunnels and go up and down stairways (if they look old, remember that Paris had its first metro in 1900). So, if you have luggage, taking the metro that involves many changes might not be the best idea. But you might be treated to a very Parisian experience, namely live music or even French music if you’re lucky. These musicians all have permit to do their music in the metro system. You might also notice that many have CDs of their music displayed and for sale.

Among the musicians one regularly encouters in Paris metro, I love the accordionist that often plays at the station Franklin Roosevelt, especially when he plays popular old French music. There is also the South American guitarist who sings and make you think of the Andes, and a South American group playing traditional music instrument. You might find them in Châtelet or République stations. Stop and listen, they are great. Another favourite of mine is a young woman who plays guitar and sings songs of Piaf. She has an incredible voice and I often ask myself why she sings in metro stations and not in a concert hall or has a recording contract already. I get goosebumps whenever I listen to her singing Piaf"s Non, je ne regrette rien. In Châtelet we might also find an orchestra composed of young people who look like students playing classical music.

Aside from individual tickets or carnet de tickets, you can also buy a Paris visite tickets for a specific number of days (1, 2, 3 or 5 days priced from around 8 to 28 euros). This ticket allows you to get on and off the metro and the buses as many times as you like within the validity days. Designed mostly for tourists, you may also get discounts to museums etc.

If living in Paris, you can of course take out weekly, monthly or yearly ticket valid for buses and metro. This use to be called Carte Orange. You get a ticket that you use and reuse for the period that it is valid for. This is progressively being replaced by the spiffier looking Passe Navigo. The advantage of this new pass, aside from the stronger plastic compared to the paper coupon for the carte orange, is that it can be optically read by the turnstiles. So, you don’t have to take out your ticket (there is no ticket in the Passe Navigo) and put it through the slot in the turnstile which everyone else with any other types of tickets has to do. With a Pass Navigo, you simply place it near the optic reader and you hear a beep indicating you can pass through the turnstile. Great to avoid the crowd of tourists blocking the turnstiles to put their ticket through the slot in the turnstile as there are now turnstiles that only have the Navigo pass reader in addition to the normal turnstiles.

If using a regular ticket, remember to keep it until you leave the station at your destination. At times there are controllers that would check that you indeed have travelled with a ticket. They often place themselves near exits. And they don’t hesitate to give you a fine (monetary penalty) for not having a ticket. Trying to weasel your way out by speaking English does not work anymore!

Paris bus
The same metro ticket is valid on Paris bus system. Bus travel is now much speedier since many roads have bus lanes, thanks to the Paris socialist gay mayor Bertrand Delanoë. My advice though is still: if in a hurry, take the metro. On the other hand, if you have time, travelling by bus means that you can take in the sight of Paris.

A bus line that I consider one of the most beautiful is bus no. 72 between Hotel de Ville and Porte de Saint Cloud. Best to take the metro to Saint Cloud and return using the bus. You will be treated to all the major sights of Paris whilst riding on streets just above la Seine. The sights include Pont Neuf (the famous bridge over la Seine in Paris), Trocadéro, Eiffel Tower, Grand Palais, Concorde and of course Hôtel de Ville de Paris (Paris town hall).

Buses are also useful if you miss the last metro when you finally extract yourself from the club, bar or wherever you spend your evening. Once the metro stops, night buses or Noctillien can take you to the center, or from the center to all areas around Paris. They run less frequently than day buses of course, but great money saver. The ticket costs a bit more than day buses and it does not take the regular tickets used for metro and day buses. If in the center, the area around Hôtel de Ville and Châtelet is the terminal for all night buses. Take care though, as there might be drunk passengers (who are usually sweet and fun but you might run into aggressive types too) or worse, those who are sick from too much alcohol. If you start noticing someone’s face turning blue and white or having expressions as if he or she had just swallowed a frog, better move away or you may have a very disgusting experience as I did once (think Poltergeist).

Aside from buses, late nighters can also now use bikes (Velib, see my other entry Paris on bicycle). As Paris is compact, it is possible to traverse Paris on a bike, especially at night when traffic is light. Watch out for Schumacher wannabe drivers that would rev up their machines just because they think the road is empty and thus can be treated as a racing track.

Of course there are taxis too. Watch for the light on top of the car, please. If it is turned on, the taxi is available for hire, when turned off, it is occupied. I have seen too many people flapping their arms about like giant birds trying to stop a passing taxi when the light was off! Of course these taxis would ignore you and not stop. Tarifs differ if your ride within the city limits or if you go out of the limits or beyond the peripheriques.

Your wallet and Mr. Right on public transport
Finally, a word of advice on the public transport in Paris. If you’re hoping that in Paris someone would steal you heart, watch out for your wallet, purse etc. so that you don’t have to cut your holidays short and miss Mr. Right that may be just around the corner or in the next arrondissement. In rush hours in metro especially, wallets should not be in your back pocket, purses should be closed and kept in sight. Funnily, the station and metro agents seem to know who these agile hands are. Often you hear announcement in all possible languages saying that pickpockets have been spotted at the station or on the train and to watch out for your wallet and money!

Happy sightseeing and may you bump into Mr. Right (or Mr Adequate or Mr Right Now, depending on what you're looking for) on your next metro trip ! (Intersting tidbit: Apparently the last car of the train/metro used to be cruisy a long time ago. This is not the case today, from my experience lol!)

Paris websex

At times indeed I wished that there was Internet when I was in my early 20s and at the peak of my sexuality (or at least when I did not have to spend so much time preparing myself to look presentable. Remember the days when we just roll off the bed and still look cute?).
With many web sites dedicated to meeting potential sexual partners one cannot miss out on much. At least one would think so. But the reality is somewhat somehow not quite as it all appears. So, here are a few observations that make me think fondly of times when I used to go to bars and meet people. Real people.

The rule of the net is that those beautiful men may not always be as beautiful as they seem in their personal profile when they arrive at your front door. With codenames such as Bogoss (Cuteboy), Meccho (Hot man), Blakdur (Hard Black) and many others that cannot be mentioned in polite company, you are the wiser for applying this rule: Add five years to their age and take five centimetres off their claim about the size of their sex. This avoids unnecessary disappointment when the guy shows up at your door, if he indeed shows up!
Internet being a virtual world, sometimes I am inclined to think that the men I chatted with were virtual too. We would set up a time to meet, or rather when they would come by my house since I like to meet in my apartment. Many would simply not show up and leave you waiting and wanting. Others would show up a lot later than the RDV time as if I had nothing better to do than wait for them (And they, on the other hand, have many important things to do and that I should be understanding about this). Some do show up pretty much on time give and take (mostly give) the usual 30 minutes late that the French are inclined to do (In fact, it is the quart d’heure de politesse meaning that it is polite to arrive 15 minutes after the invitation time to give the host or the hostess time to finish last minute preparation).

But one of the most blatant lies would be passing a picture of someone else as one’s own. This has happened to me when I expected a hot looking black guy and instead found a guy that was not even lukewarm when I opened the door with trembling anticipation. Indeed, black, but far from the svelte sexy man posted on my computer screen. He tried to justify it by saying that he had since gained 10 kilos…but then I don’t think getting fatter actually changes your facial bone structure! And, holy molly, what ever happened to those bulging muscles I saw in the pictures supposedly of you?

Another was a blond whose picture looked like a taller, stronger jawed and recently dyed blond Tom Cruise. When this guy arrived, indeed he was blond but far from possessing the winning smile that melted my whatever when I contemplated his picture on the net. He had the balls to say that he just got a haircut. Had he come up with a better excuse I would have invited him in for coffee, just to be polite.

Internet also illustrates the saying ‘looking for love in all the wrong places’. Many of the chat sites are sex oriented, yet, many also look for love (I don't know if this is a French thing or universal. But it's true that many French always seem to be looking for une histoire d'amour even if everything is falling apart..it's like breathing, one cannot do without!)…It is very hard to make a commitment after having sex with a guy for the first time of whom you only know his first name (and might not be his true first name to boot) and his mobile telephone number. This is a sure sign for me to loose his number or to not answer his calls. Or for sure you're going to have him stuck on you like a wet t shirt.

But the idea that the world is a faster place with internet (at least in term of finding someone to snuggle with for the night) cannot be more wrong. Indeed, if when I first got on the internet I was saying to myself how stupid I was for wasting all those hours in a bar standing around talking to a guy until three in the morning before finally going home with him or, worse, alone and drunk, this does not happen anymore. Now , I long for the good old days when we pretty up, go to the bar and chat up some guy who might not go home with your anyway. But at least he was real and was a real feast for the eyes. What’s more, many of the chat sites that used to be free have become paying…oh well, might as well spend it on a glass of blanche in my neighbourhood gay bar.

Renting in Paris

No other topic is dearer to Parisians (at least those who do not own their own apartment) than that of renting an apartement in inner Paris (intramuros).

When I first arrived in Paris, and hugely ignorant of how things are done here, I was completely shocked by some of the apartments offered by the estate agents that were considered to be in a condition ready for rental.

Let me start from the beginning. To look for an apartement, you can either deal directly with the owners who advertize in newspapers (for example, particulier à particulier) or do it via a real estate agent. Ever since the boom in real estate (prices have tripled in the past 8 years) there are real estate agents everywhere, by the way. Normally, apartments advertized by agents would conform more to the market price and, at least I believed, would be of certain standard of rentability regarding the condition of the apartments. Wrong.

Having contacted different agents, I was shown a number apartments that made me cry a river thinking of my beautiful apartment in Melbourne or in New York. Indeed, Paris is old, so one must prepare oneself for strange apartments that actually come from dividing big apartments into smaller ones to adapt to modern times and more expensive life.

An apartment I visited in the Marais (one of the oldest districts in Paris and now one of the most expensive too) was a studio that had a long hallway that juts off from the living/sleeping room. Feeling rather non-plussed by the size of the living room I eagerly went to the hallway only to find it end in a wall. The hallway goes nowhere at all ! Rather amused or bemused, I asked the agent what one could possibly do with a long hallway that goes to nowhere. Enthusiatically, she thought I could turn it into a cute workspace with book cases and a small table. Well, I guess if you are really really thin, but frankly I dont see how I could put a table there, let alone sit on a chair to use the table.

Still in the same area, I visited an apartment with a very interesting bathroom. Many apartments apparently did not have their own toilet or bathroom and these were added later in very interesting places, nook and cranies. The bathroom in this particular apartment that I visited had one fit for very small people. Basically, you had to bend and take a shower whilst crouching or sitting on your butt as the ceiling of the shower stall was no more that 1 m above the floor ! I could not fathom taking a shower in interesting positions while half asleep. Next, I said to my agent.

On the subject of toilet/bathroom in weird places, I have indeed lived in an apartment whose toilet was located in the closet. So there you were, sitting on the toilet starting at your clothes and thinking about your coming out of the closet many years ago only to find yourself in one again doing things you never thought you would do (in a closet). In the picture to the right, you see a small bathroom that manages to include a sabot or French style bathtub that is only half the size of regular American or Australian bathtubs. You crouch in the water that goes up to your bellybutton and voila. Don't even think of inviting someone else in.

I visited next a furnished apartment, rare at that time though there seems to be more and more of this type of rental these days. The apartment was obviously decorated by someone who likes bold patterns and bringht colors as evidenced in the wall paper, the floor and all the furniture and who is not afraid to mix and match. I felt I had entered into a bad copy of an impressionist painting. I think the decoration was meant to be reminiscent of Grandma's house. Well this Grandma definitely was a fan of Janis Joplin and smoked a bit too much of something.

Still, when you look for an apartment via an agent, you visit the apartment individually or at worst with a couple other people. When dealing directly with the owners, often they have an open house and there would inevitably be a long line of potential renters waiting to visit the apartment.

Now, accompanied by 40 others people wanting the same apartment as you, you would have to give them the 'dossier' of application (The same dossier is to be prepared as well when dealing via an agent). The so called dossier or application file would include copies of your salary slip for the last three months, your identity card or passport, information on bank accounts, letter from your employer, and once accepted, you have to give them a check for the whopping amount equivalent to two months rent as a security deposit, a first month rent, and in the case of renting via an agent, the agent's fee that usually equals the rent or more.

Don't hold your breath for news after giving them your dossier, when there are these many people interested in the apartment, there will undoubtedely be someone who earns more than you do, have been on a job longer than you do or have a better guarantor than you. A guarantor often is asked, a friend or a family member who co-sign to say that they would pay should you decide to disappear and not pay the rent or simply do not pay.

I finally got an apartment after 3 months of searching. But I was very choosey and wanted to live in a specific neighborhood (in fact, specific streets). I have lived here now for 9 years and have just, merde, received a notice from the owner via the agent. They wish to take over the apartment for a family member. Indeed in France, the owner can only kick a renter (who pays regularly of course) out if they wish to sell the apartment (in which case, they have to offer to sell it to the renter first) or to live (themselves or a family member) in the said apartment. So, I will have to begin the who cycle all over again.

Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris

When you arrive in Paris from overseas, you will most likely arrive in CDG or Charles de Gaulle airport, also known as Roissy. The other Paris airport is Orly which is used mostly for domestic and certain european and carribean flights.
If you fly Air France, Delta, Continental, Emirates and some other airlines you will use CDG Terminal 2. Other airlines such as Singapore, Malaysia, Olympic and Lufthansa use the older Terminal 1.

I will talk about terminal 1 which I find messier, dirtier, but at the same time has more charm compared to terminal 2.

CDG1 is now finally linked to the suburban train (called RER) via automated trains called CDGVal (the same automated train can be found in Orly airport, called , what else ? OrlyVal). This makes life a lot simpler and predictable than the old system of getting of the RER and wait for a shuttle bus that arrived unpredictably and not too often!

If you depart, be sure to find out in what hall you have to check in (assuming that you indeed depart from CDG1)..some halls are upstairs and others downstairs. Prepare for long snaking lines (my experience of flying to Asia especially, but also to the US). If flying to the US, prepare yourself for questioning first by airline personnel, x raying of all your baggage, and staying in line again to check in (I am talking about the experience of economy class pax as I always fly cheap!).

Once checked in, you should not really dither and wait til the last minute before going through passport control and to the gate. The passport control can be messy with long lines (if there are lines at all. Often just a disorganized crowd ), tons of passengers and, lo and behold, just 2 agents checking passports!

I find the most interesting aspect of CDG1 its architecture. Do you remember the tv series Lost in Space. Whenever I watch this series I got a feeling that this was a future that people at that time imagined it to be like (and how wrong they were). Well, CDG1 would give you the same impression. It probably was extremely futuristic at some point in the past, but not now. It does look a somewhat worse for wear Startrek ship now. Once you leave the check in area, you will go via glass tubes to reach the center of the round terminal building. It was like going into a film set from the past. The long glass tubes that criscross the atrium (that are at an angle, so not uncommon to see people grabbing holds of others or the side panels to stay up!) bring departing pax to passport control or arriving pax to bagagge claim area. After spending an eternity waiting for your passport to be checked, you will go through a long underground tunnel to get to the satelites where the gates and the jetways are. Indeed, the round main building is encircled by satelites that each has several jetways. Once in the satelite, prepare yourself for a long line for security check, and once in the boarding area for tight space and seats that come right out of the sixties or the seventies when people were not afraid to mix colors and patterns. But, the satelites with the big glass windows really are plane spotters' heaven as you can see many planes right up close and CDG1 does have the variety of airlines that make spotting well worth it.
Whenever I arrive from overseas at CDG1 I cringe thinking what tourists would think of it and what first impression they would have of France! Each time, we would be stuck in the corridor packed with people from several 777s and A340s waiting for passport control. Of course there would only be a few agents for the hundreds of pax. The lines were not marked either, so verbal fights might ensue when people inadvertently cut lines (Hard to tell the head, the middle or the tail of the queue as people arrive from different doors at different points). A mess!
Once your survived the queue for passport control, you will be treated to the spaceship feeling of CDG going to baggage claim via the angled tube with moving sidewalk. Try not to fall.

Arrived in baggage claim, there would be another madness. Take your time to go to the toilet and freshen up. Your bags will take forever to arrive. And no need fighting people for carts or to be next to the moving belts...In the end, everyone always walks out about the same time, that is, a long time after they landed.

Americans especially used to complain about smoking in Paris airports. People used to smoke in many places in the terminal including under the No Smoking signs (I myself used to do this. Hey, I have become French ok?). This is no more. Since February this year, all public buildings are non smoking. So if you are a smoker, go out after checking in and have your cigarette there. But leave enough time before boarding time to fight the crowd on your way to the plane.

Transport to the city
Once reunited with your bags you can either take a bus, a train or taxi to the city. There are also shuttle service that you reserve in advance. However, once, after spending 12 hours in the airplane and another 2 hours waiting for passport control and my bags, I rode all over Paris before being dropped off in my house. Yes, you might be the last one to be dropped off which means that you will have a free tour of Paris which could be a good thing if you were not tired, sleepy and feeling dirty (and cranky after the madness of CDG1).

If you take a taxi, be prepared to dish out up to 40 euros to go to the center of Paris. If you are connecting to a domestic flight from Orly airport, there is an Air France bus that connects the two airports though it cost money (This Air France bus is for all pax, not Air France pax only). Otherwise, if you are sensible enough not to have a huge suitcase to lug around, take the suburban train (RER) via CDGVal. Comfortable ride for a few euros (8 euros I think or a bit more) and it will take you right into Chatelet, or Gare du Nord or Luxembourg (station in Paris, not the country!).

Paris on bicycle

So the new thing in Paris since mid july this year (2007) is the Velib or (the almost) free bikes that people can use to transport themselves around Paris. This, to many, would probably seem like a crazy idea knowing full well how the Parisians drive. Indeed, not only do they think rules are there to break, but they also tend to bring with them their baggage such as personal and interpersonal or existential crises in the car and drive even more like maniacs high on something. Zipping around Paris on a bicycle probably, at first impression, rates just below committing suicide by jumping from the Eiffel tower (better not be in a hurry as often you have to queue for hours to get to the top of the tower).

However, Paris has in the past few years been transformed thanks to the socialist mayor, Bertrand Delanoë. By the way, Delanoë is an openly gay gentleman and is one of only two openly gay mayors in western europe (the other being Wowie who is the mayor of Berlin). In the past few years, we have seen more buslanes that can be used exclusively by buses, taxis and bikes. spring up all around the city. This means that buses can go faster than private cars in the city, especially during rush hours, which is a good motivation for people to leave their car and take the bus. Everywhere we alos now see more and more bikelanes. As a side note, unlike in many western countries, use of helmets is not compulsory here though advised.
The Velib system means that you can take a bike from a Velib station, ride it somewhere and leave it in another Velib station in your destination. This is great for quick trips that do not last more than 30 minutes since only the first 30 minutes are free. Increasing fee must be paid for each additional half hour that you keep the bike. The station registers when you take the bike out and when you return it via stands where you would 'lock' or 'unlock' the bike.

You can use your credit card to become a Velib client for a day or for a week. To do so, you have to use the super duper looking machine/terminal (called borne) found in each station. the large screen guides you what to do and the small screen may affix information related to payment via your credit card that you enter in a slot as in an ATM. Instructions are available in English as well. Those living here can take a one year subscription for a mere 29 euros. A 150 euros deposit will be required though (either via credit card for short term subscription or cheque for one year subscription) which will be cashed in if you do not return the bike to a station after 24 hours.

The bikes themselves, silver grey in color, do not really look as aerodynamic as many regular bikes because they include a lot of safety features and extras. There is a bell which is necessary when you ride in Paris streets. There are front and back lights. The bike also has large comfortable sadle and covers for the tires so that you don't get off your bike covered in mud spots if you ride in the rain which would be useful in the winter in Paris. The bike has three speeds controlled by turning the handle. I have noticed that the gears change not in a graded fashion but rather abrupt: you will be pedaling along calmly and notice that the street is on a slight incline, you change gear and you will suddenly be pedaling like mad whilst going rather slowly!

The trick to use the Velib if you have to go somewhere a bit further than the free 30 minutes is of course to take out a bike for half hour, return it to a station and take another one. This way, all is free. The 30 minute free ride is applied each time you take out a bike no matter how many times you do it during the day. You cannot however lock in a bike in a station and try to get out another right away. Just relax and smoke half a cigarette or chat with the Velib service men (many are young and cute) and you will be good to take another bike for another free half hour.

Bikelanes in Paris can be lanes that are shared with buses and taxis (so watch out for crazy taxi drivers or irritated bus drivers), bike only lanes next to regular lanes for cars, or lanes on the sidewalk when these are large enough, marked to indicate to pedestrians that the lanes are reserved for cyclists (Here, you will be ringing your bell all the time as many pedestrians ignore the reserved for cyclists signs, especially on sidewalks along boulevard Magenta from Republique all the way to Barbes). Normally you have no right to ride your bike on the sidewalk except in cases where they are indicated. One of the most pleasant sidewalk bike lanes can be found from Metro station Alma Marceau to Concorde: tree covered lanes, la seine on one side and beatiful Hausmannian buildings on the other side...this is Paris, beautiful Paris at its best.

Whilst riding, be vigilant at all times and always remember that Parisian drivers often do not respect rules or right of way. You can force your way, of course, but you are on a bike and they are in a car...you will lose, trust me.

Problems that I have encountered in using Velib include no bike in a station or stations that are full and thus have no stand to lock and register the return of your bike when you arrive in your destination. No worries, just swipe your card or enter your details on the terminal or borne. The machine will know that the station is full and will give you 15 minutes extra and show a map of nearby stations where there are stands where you can safely leave your bike (which should automatically lock and register its return by two short beeps). In the case of an empty station and you wish to take a bike, just walk to another station (there is one every 300 meters) or wait for the service truck to arrive with bikes. These trucks circle Paris all day long to make sure there are bikes at stations or take out bikes from full stations so that people can return their bikes.

Best to check that the bike is in a good condition before you take it out. (tyres and chain especially). Loosening the saddle and turning in frontside back seems to have developed as a code among users to indicate to each other that the bike needs repairs (broken chain, flat tyre or even steering bar that does not align with the wheel!). Aside from evening out the distribution of bikes across stations, the service trucks also repair damaged bikes either on site or taking them to their shop.

They say Paris is best discovered on foot. Well, now you can do it on a bike. Cool.