
I even love the Metro sign. This is my nearest station in the 5th arrondissement of Paris. Isn't it pretty?
I mentioned my love for the glorious Paris Metro while talking with a French man the other day. He simply couldn’t comprehend it. He made that face reserved for food you don’t like, and informed me that the Metro smelled. “It smells”, he said but his face said, “Urgh, you like something that smells”. It was difficult to make a comeback after that. He had made me feel like a beastly outcast who rolls around in toenails and licks cat hair off the floor (god, it’s not like I said I like the RER).
It was too late to change his mind about me, but I could still save face for the Metro. Ah, the Metro: practical, stylish and affordable, an example in efficiency and a veritable free, daily theatre, where every aspect of life is recreated underground and for all to see.
Genuine scenes of animal interaction are silently played out as privileged positions are contended and personal space is defended. Plus real, live entertainment of all kinds can surprise you at any moment. Sometimes people actually join in; either with the performer and his music (I’ve seen whole carriages come to life (granted, they are usually tourists, but they’re real people too!)) or with fellow passengers enjoying a good old collective tut because it’s repetitive or unwanted or simply because they’ve had a long day and can’t I just go home without this racket lordy, lordy? It’s thoroughly entertaining. Continue reading
If you liked it, please share!
Like this:
Be the first to like this post.