Parislog 28
July 3, 2006

I have a couple of more details on Jolly Olde England. In America and Canada when we walk on the sidewalks we have a tendency to take our right hand side when passing others as though we were driving a car. In England, I almost caused great pile-ups because I was trying to be polite and do the same thing. What I quickly came to realize was that the Brits very politely do the opposite. They all file past each other taking the left just as they would do if they were driving. The exception is the escalators. If you are standing still, you still take the right and let others pass you on the left. Go figure.

I didn’t think ahead about my return to Paris. I came home late Saturday and that was not well thought through because everything is closed on Sunday. Of course, before one leaves one empties the larder so that there aren’t any of those strange smelly things growing in the house when one gets home. One doesn’t want to experience the Little Shop of Horrors upon one’s fatigued return. Problem is that leaves nothing to eat and the stores are nicely shut for the day and you haven’t awakened in time to go to the farmer’s market on the street so you have to try the take-out food. Things I need to think about for next time, maybe a couple of cans or frozen things?

In all the dating I have done here I have been waiting to explain one of the French idioms and now I get to. Hah. On Sunday, I had two dates. The first one was an African diplomat. He was interesting but had a frightening dislike of people. He even said he had no friends because he didn’t need them. The second one I will never know because he (here it is) “poser un lapin”, which means that he acted like a rabbit. I guess that means he quickly hopped away, what we would call stood up, not that that makes any more sense.

From every book that I read on France, I learned that the French get really annoyed when you don’t at least try to speak their language so I wasn’t prepared for this one. I had gone into the store that serves the telephone and internet customers that is now called Orange to ask for what the television stations were on the internet service. I had just gotten back from England so I wasn’t in top form with French but I was getting by. The guy that I was talking to tried to get me to talk to the guy who “could speak English” and I wanted to get back into speaking French. It became a stand off. I mean he really wanted me to go and speak English to this other guy. It was the weirdest moment. I was stuck in wanted to speak French and respect the culture and he was stuck in wanted to help make it easier for me or maybe he wanted to give his co-worker a chance to practice English. I don’t know. I finally gave up and blurted out my request in English. The first guy that I was talking to understood it completely and went and got me the info. Then we continued the conversation in French. ????????? What a strange surreal moment.

I am finding that some of the metro stops have toilets. What a relief. Sorry. I couldn’t resist. Ooh that was even better. Anyway. The toilets at the metro stop called Trocadero are positively spectacular Art Nouveau originals.

I continued to have a terrible run of things not working out for a few days. First was being stood up and then H* and I had a miscommunication in regards to meeting for a museum and I was left dangling like a chad. (American voting humor). Then the invites for the museum turned out to be all gone so I went to the museum to see if they would let me in anyway. Nope. Then I tried to find this cool secondhand designer clothing store that H* had taken me too. Nope. The next day I tried to go to the Christie’s preview of the jewelry sale. Arrived at one. Closed at noon. Nope. I thought to myself, maybe I should finish the week in bed. Nope.

One of the events they had around here was a contest for decorating balconies with greenery and flowers. I came across the Plaza Athenee Hotel, which had matched their flowers to their awnings. It was spectacular. You can stay there for 550€ ($700) a night. Are you feeling it?

I have been playing around with another aspect of fashion design. I carry a little writing pad around with me and find interesting bits in my environment to inspire clothing ideas. It started while I was waiting for one date and saw a bicycle parking area cover that had interesting lines. I sketched out 8 different ideas. I decided to take it a little further. First, I went to this fabulous bookstore by the “Pompidou” (modern art museum) called Mona Lisait and got a great fashion drawing book and then I headed to the Eiffel Tower and started drawing. It made for some strange clothes but it was fun. The next day I went to Park Monceau a used some of the ancient ruins (fake) for inspiration. I suspect the spots for inspiration could be never ending here.

Oh yes, there was another botched plan this week. On Saturday there was this really cool treasure hunt in some of the neighborhoods to encourage people to get to know the areas. I decided to go to one and when I got there the courtyard to the “mairie” (mayor’s) was wall-to-wall people so I decided instead to go to the “soldes” sales.

In France, they are only allowed to have sales twice a year and this one started the 28th of June and goes until 5th of August. It is a shopping free-for-all. You see people going past with multiple bags under their arms looking for more to buy. I think that many people wait just for this moment to do their shopping. The stores are packed. I get the sales frenzy thing but what I don’t get is the temperature in the stores. It is like 150º in the stores because they don’t as a whole believe in air conditioning here or it is too hard to put in. Who wants to try on clothes when you are dripping in sweat? And who wants to buy clothes that have been tried on by other people dripping in sweat? Then if you find a store that does have air conditioning, most often the doors are wide open. That is energy efficient! Dripping with sarcasm.

World Cup. Insane. I got a tip from M.C.* in L.A. to go to Champs-Elysees if the French won the quarterfinal. You know me. I can’t resist something like that and off I went. On my way to the metro I saw a police car pulled over at a bistro and the 2 officers were standing beside their car watching the game. So you know we are off to a good start. I get on the metro and the train has a mini break down and the crowd groans. It finally sounds like it is going to start and you hear someone down the way saying, “let’s go” with a little exasperation in the tone. I finally get the Champs and it is a mad house. I can hear the noise from inside the train station. I come up and the winners of the previous game, Portugal, are parading in their cars up and down the boulevard with flags and bodies hanging out of the cars. As I waited for the game to finish, I walked up and down. At one point the French finally got the goal and I happened to be near the big police paddy wagons. The police popped off their sirens and I could see that they had tv screens inside the vehicles on which they were keeping track of the game.

When the game ended and the French had won, they came streaming out into the street from the bars. The street was immediately shut down to traffic at both ends and the bodies started to fill it up. The Portugal supporters were still there. Not only were they coming from the bars, but also from the streets and apartments of the quarter. Then they started to pile in from the metros. It was packed. They were yelling, screaming, whistling, blowing air horns and letting off emergency flares and fireworks. It was insane. They were chanting “allez les bleus”, which means, “go blues” and singing the national anthem, I think. Some people even brought drums. I never saw any fighting but I did see the different supporters doing little stand-offs while flying their colors.

I left at midnight and was shocked at the stream of people coming out of the metro still. It was like a steam bath entering the station from the quantity of people in there. Not pleasant. I was glad that I was leaving.

When I got back to my street, of course the party was in full force at the corner. I went up to my apartment and set my mind to the fact that I probably wasn’t going to be able to get any sleep for a while yet. The line of cars in the street were non-stop blowing their horns and the people with the whistles seemed to never run out of breathe. I swear that I even heard a bagpipe. I watched for a while as the people at the corner bistro were making every car stop, for what exactly I don’t know but often they would dog pile onto the car and ride it down the street. I even saw a few of them fall off of the moving car. They were drunk enough to not appear to have gotten hurt. Finally, at 2:30, a half-hour after the bars closed, it calmed down enough to be able to contemplate sleep.