Things I forgot about living in Paris

So after a brief hiatus, for which I will make no excuses for (nobody cares), I am back baby. And I'm in Paris. I have already eaten my body weight in croissants, baguettes and all things boulangerie related and I could not be more thrilled. It's funny though because this isn't my first rodeo. I moved to Paris when I was 18 (ahem, 7 years ago, time flies, can I say almost a decade?) and there are some things which haven't changed, and are still making me either chuckle or tut in annoyance. 

#1

Oh man, the metro is a bloody rollercoaster. After the relative smoothness and cleanliness of the Madrid metro (where I resided for 2 years), Paris is on a whole other level. I swear the carriages sometimes leave the tracks for a second on certain lines (ahem, line 13). It is also just incredibly, badly designed. Why would you put the seats in a square-shape jutting into the carriage rather than lining the sides? It is an ergonomic mystery. It also means that nobody moves down inside the carriages because it's super awkward to do so and equally to come back out again. Therefore, you just get a load of people bunched in the middle section by the doors with nobody wanting to move anywhere from said middle zone, making it a nightmare to get off the bloody thing as well as on. 

#2

Another metro grievance (I could write a book), the signage is utter shite. I am constantly being sent on a wild goose chase to find the correct platform. Do not even get me started on trying to find line 4 in Châtelet, or saying that, finding anything in Châtelet. A sign will send you left and 2 minutes later be sending you back to the right. I have taken many a deep breath to calm my frustration. Really everyone should be issued with a RATP-mandated stress ball for dealing with the metro.

#3

Older women do not queue. It is like an unspoken rule. They will look you dead in the eyes and then cut you up in a heartbeat. Or they will look at the queue, find a hole and then just insert themselves nicely into that space. I never feel more British then when I get tetchy about people not forming an orderly queue. I also don't quite understand the etiquette on making a scene about this. People generally accept this as the done thing, so I will continue to bristle in silence and perfect my do-not-even-think-about-it death stare. 

#4

Parisian drivers are crazy. I have been crossing at a crossing and been beeped at. At the time I thought, surely not. But this has happened multiple times. If you show any hesitation or weakness they will not stop for you. Which is kinda terrifying. Every time I test the water, dip my toe in the metaphorical zebra pond, give a slight you-will-stop-for-me glare and they will reluctantly stop. I say reluctantly because drivers wait until the last second to brake. It's a terrifying game of chicken every time.

#5

The French say 'oo la la' a lot. There is constant denial about this, but it is indisputable. What I hear more of though (and I'm talking on a daily basis) is 'oohhh lohhh lohhh'. Think of them as parallel noises to express either delight or severe annoyance. The former a kind of yay, how pleasant or an expression of surprise. The latter is the equivalent of the English tut. Normally accompanied by an eye roll and double shoulder shrug with  particular emphasis on drawing out the 'o' syllable to really convey how pissed off you are. 

#6

The Seine is utilised a lot. At the weekend people crowd down there to drink, socialise and lie down to read their books. Yep, bag as a pillow, full on lie down, not a care in the world, wholesome Sunday activity. I love the attitude that the river is there to be used and enjoyed rather than admired at a distance. People are there with their skateboards, skipping ropes, pastries, wine, children, dogs all year round and I have to say, it is rather glorious. 

#7

Speaking of, I was sitting by the Seine the other day at dusk reading my book (eye roll for how stereotypical Parisian tourist my activities have been) and I saw a bat. The word for bat in French is 'chauvre souris'- literal translation: bald mouse. It reminded me of the Spanish for turkey, 'pavo real'- literally meaning: royal turkey. On a daily basis words come back to you and sometimes learning another language is really just surprising and amusing in the best possible way.