Some background on my ‘hood. I live in a suburb on Paris called Antony. In fact, it’s Antony ‘Sud’ and the border of anything that can just about be called Paris is about 150m up the road. I liken it to living in somewhere like Musselburgh or Balerno...
So in the morning I walk down the road to the bus stop, it’s about a 4 minute walk to catch the 197 bus, which I seem to spend an awful lots of time on. On my way I pass an odd number of pizza restaurants, an old school French tavern from which a permanent cloud of smoke hangs heavy in the air, an archery shop (who’s getting the longbow for Christmas?! Uncle John?!), a ‘Jade Lingerie’ shop (....no) and a food shop filled with very Jewish people which seems to sell both Kosher and Halal food. There’s middle eastern diplomacy for you. The bus whisks me all the way down the street for about 10 minutes to the Croix de Berny. From here I can go to the training centre or the station.
In the morning I head for the station, thereby swapping the politeness of the bus, “s’il-vous plait, assiez vous”, for the suited and booted rabble. The Paris RER (the train from the ‘burbs) is the most undignified, awkward and downright soul-destroying mode of transport I have ever experienced. But then again, I am used to a leisurely morning stroll down Howe Street bathed in morning sunshine. At this stage, commuting does not form part of my plan for future years. A seat is a highly prized commodity on the RER and I picture Michael Mcintyre’s comedy sketch about the London Tube most mornings. Everyone thinks the train’s full, no more people can possibly get on at the next stop. And then some determined bugger hyper on coffee and croissants takes a charge. It’s very awkward for everyone, and I’ve now learned to keep my arms fairly raised to avoid the odd stroke of some unsuspecting woman’s leg.
But then again, this is France, bodily contact is not something to shy away from...!
No comments:
Post a Comment