Sometimes we find small things to comment on, interesting snippets that strike us but that don’t merit a full article.
I’ll post those here, whenever….
[Also take a look under the France Page above, and its side pages Paris Sights and Paris Life]
3. CONFUSED AT LA POSTE
La Poste (the Post Office)
Our landlord took us to our first La Poste visit in Palaiseau to pick up a parcel: stand in a long queue and shuffle forward until you get to the front. No problem with that.
Then I tackled our small local office in Lozere. Double security doors with red and green buttons get me into the room, then we stand in a short line. Also okay.
But, then I’m flummoxed at the bigger La Poste in Rue Cler, near the Eiffel Tower. No security, so I breeze in. There are many counters, but no long lines, just some people standing around and some sitting. Hmm? I’m undecided but there’s no obvious indication of what to do. Nobody moves and nothing changes for quite a while—the people at the counters must have a lot of business. I decide I’d better stand at a counter and begin to move forward, when one of the men sitting explains that I need a number from the desk. What desk? Close to the entrance is a small table, which was empty when I entered, but is now manned by an official giving out numbers. The screen with the numbers is behind him, and I hadn’t noticed. I wait for my number, and feel a bit stupid.
This could have happened anywhere in the world, I’m sure, but probably we’d ask for information or clarification sooner if we were on home turf.
It’s easy to recognize the post office in France by its yellow colors and signs. Probably there’s a yellow La Poste van parked outside, or a motorbike with a yellow box for mail delivery. We also see mail delivery on bikes and even on foot, the mail carrier pushing a wheeled cart.
2. BEGGARS AND BUSKERS ON TRAINS
Hand held out, mumble, mumble.
A man passing out yellow slips of paper, asking for money.
A young girl of about 6-7 whining next to my seat.
A young man in camouflage clothes, telling a sob story.
A group setting up an amplifier, and then playing a violin/guitar/piano accordion
A well-dressed woman (with a lovely voice), who said she was singing for a children’s charity
The public transport system in Paris and Ile de France is wonderful, used by thousands (maybe millions) each day—regular, efficient, convenient.
One of the less attractive ‘features’ is the beggars and buskers, especially the beggars. After a while we recognize some of the regulars, who obviously ply the same line. A swarthy-looking woman (is she a Gypsy?) with a baby; another dark-haired young woman who is a Bulgarian according to the locals; a man who always speaks in an apologetic, but spirited, way, almost as though he’s preaching (but never seems to get anything). Most of the time, the people in my carriage don’t give anything, but we have to assume that some people in other carriages do give, otherwise why would these people continue?
At peak times, these people are not evident, perhaps because the crowded carriages prevent free movement.
1. FLOWERS V GRAFFITI
As we wander around Paris, we notice a strange contrast, a juxtaposition of beautiful and rather unattractive. We see pots of bright blooming flowers on lamp posts and train station rails, wonderful colorful window boxes, and gorgeous flower beds in gardens and parks—a profusion of flowering beauty. In fact, around France, many towns want to be classified as a “ville fleurie”, a town or village of flowers. But, close by, are plain walls ‘decorated’ with painted swirls and strange symbols, sometimes meaningful, more often meaningless—a graffiti eyesore. And yet…some of this graffiti is so stylized, almost anthropomorphic, that it borders on mural art.
(one view of the famous Tuileries gardens)
(relaxing in the Tuileries gadens)
(the lovely gardens of the Palais Royal)
(a gardener meticuloously shapes a tree into a ball)
(This is just outside our house)
(a pleasant cafe, but note the graffiti on the road barriers in front)
