Marion's Miscellaneous Musings

The Paris Metro Adventures

With a little tweaking, that could become a great murder mystery title.  (Murder on the Paris Red Line?  Murder on the Paris Express?...suggestions?)  Instead, I survived the Paris metro, thanks to my French friends.

Of course, it didn't help that, as we were waiting for the first train, Guillaume regaled me with tales of recent fatal accidents.  Fortunately, all were caused by an intense desire to be on the train that was almost departing (I almost saw one myself, but the desire for self preservation prevailed and the person gave up trying to open a closing door.)  As a result, the song "Casey Jones" ran through my head, specifically the lines "There are two trains here and they're gonna bump."  and "This is my trip to the promised land."  (One version of the song is here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8qTKyb0EcY  Like all folk songs, there are several versions, have fun finding them.  The Pete Seeger version is the one I remember, but his video is blocked in the US for copyright reasons, which has got to have run out LONG ago.)

I retaliated by continually asking Guillaume how the trains turned around at the end of the line.  He didn't know, so of course I kept asking.

Every time I got on the metro something happened.  Every.  Time.  The first day, Guillaume had to figure out an alternate ride home because the station we had to transfer at was closed.  The second day, Sebastien had to find another way out of the station because of a threatened riot at our destination and police were not allowing people to join the riot.  (Spoilsports)  Then he had to confer with a bus driver because the President Hollande was disrupting traffic down the Champs-Elysees.  (And being booed, but not for that.)  The third day, when I was traveling by myself to Versailles,  Guillaume's father Francois found out there was a fire at St. Michel-Notre Dame, where I was to change trains, and instead bought me a ticket to change at Massy-Palaiseau instead.  There I successfully changed trains to go to Versailles-Chantiers, in spite of a French woman, who spoke no English and apparently did not like Americans or tourists or both, and insisted that I get on the train to go the other direction.  The other person I asked was actually a Japanese lady, who spoke no French, but had been put on the right track by her French friend, along with written questions -- in French -- to ask someone how to get to Versailles.  (This was great, the first person we asked told us it was less than a kilometer and to turn at that street and we would see it.  The city maps gave us no clue.)

Going home I was again on my own.  I got to the station (after getting lost in the city of Versailles, but not terribly) and asked a station employee where I should go.  He directed me to platform H.  I got on the train, there were several other people on it.  Then there was an announcement, in French, which I didn't have a prayer of understanding, and everyone got off.  I asked someone, who spoke no English, but pointed out of the train.  I asked the only other person on the platform if she spoke English.  Nope.  Umm...Ich gehe...no wait, that's German...ummm...Je vais Massy Palaiseau?  It was probably incorrect French, but she pointed to the next train over.  I got in, and the signboard on the train listed stations that did NOT include the word "Massy Palaiseau."

OK.  My borrowed phone rang -- it was Sebastien asking where I was.  I am on a train in Versailles that will take me to Massy Palaiseau (I hope).  OK, meet you there.

And it was a good thing, because I had thrown away the wrong train ticket and I couldn't get to the right platform.  Once again, Sebastien to the rescue!  (And he did it so fast I didn't have time to panic and remember the MTA song.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3VMSGrY-IlU    This is a song written for a Boston mayoral campaign, in which the candidate promises to lower taxes.  Since the French tend to riot over taxes, it is probably a good thing I did not remember and hum it while in Paris.)

The fourth day, Anne, Guillaume's mother, put me on the train and I had no problem.  (I did have a problem finding Chatelet- Les Halles station while on the streets of Paris (and in the dark) and once again Sebastien came to the rescue.  But not actually on the train.)

The fifth day, Anne put me on the train and I had no problem.

The lesson (Anne used to be a teacher) is clear:  Anne should be in charge of travel plans from here on out.

posted by Marion @ 10:49 AM