Danger at Barbes-Rochechouart

I've only felt unsafe in Paris once. It was a bit worrying to discover that the metro closes relatively early: 12:30 on weeknights, and 1:30 on weekends, but honestly it's never been a problem. You can walk for miles in most parts of the city at any odd hour of the night, and no one will bother you.

Ironically, the one time I felt like I was in danger was at noon. Last Saturday I woke up early to check out the marché aux puces (literally flea market) in the village of St.Ouen, just north of Paris. The North suburbs of Paris are actually pretty dangerous, but Ina and Jeffery Garten frequent this market to look for chic antiques, so clearly it must be totally gentrified and pleasant and smell like lilacs from Ina's favorite gay florist in the Hamptons.

The market itself was very interesting, once you got past the people selling Nikes that fell off the back of a truck, and a whole lotta junk, you could find covered markets selling everything from vintage Chanel jewelry and sweet first-editions, to modern art and antique furniture rummaged from estate sales and royal palaces. I spent a few hours wandering around, and decided to head back towards the center of the city. The market was closest to the final metro stop on one of the lines closed for renovation, so they had a bus shuttle service to Barbes-Rochechouart, a metro stop in the 9th arrondissement. Once I got off the bus I was submerged into a huge mob of people, so I guarded my purse and headed towards the metro station entrance. Once inside, I was confronted with perhaps 12 young men, probably my age, all waving metro tickets in my face. "They're free!" they said. Obviously not, why would you be standing around a metro station giving away free tickets when you could be out making money? Opportunity costs, people. I reached in my purse to get my own metro ticket ready so I could just walk through them with a purpose and as little eye contact as possible, when I totally panicked. The next part is kind of a blur of fight or flight and tears, but I'll try to break it down for you.

They were definitely cat-calling as I came in, being alone, but whatever, that's relatively normal and doesn't phase me much. Then they started laying their hands on me, or grabbing my arm and pulling. One of them swooped in and tried to kiss me, but I managed to get away in time. All while this was happening, they were trying to get me to take one of their stupid tickets.
All I could manage to say to these people was "I have one, I have one". Not one "stop", nor "leave me alone", in French or in English. I couldn't raise my voice at all, and I didn't even consider hitting anyone. I was too petrified and my body had gone on high alert.

I manged to make my way past them to a metro turnstile, and i put my ticket through the machine. I did this too soon, because the woman in front of me was passing through, and this voided my ticket. In my state of panic and fear, I just started to cry. Some of these men tried to give me their tickets again, but I was pushing them away and crying and running to the handicap entrance and trying to get through and considering jumping over the turnstile to escape what I thought was potential bodily harm. One guy in particular kept following me and grabbing my upper arm, telling me my ticket was "finished" in English, I couldn't tell if he was trying to actually be helpful or not, but I sure didn't want him touching me. During my breakdown I somehow pulled myself together and took another ticket from my wallet and put it through the machine and ran away to the platform.

It scared me so much, and I've never felt so helpless and alone. And disappointed in myself. Why did I let them get the better of me and overreact? Why didn't I say no? This probably happens to some people every day, and I'm sure they don't freak out like I did. What if I was actually in a dangerous situation? I probably wouldn't be able to defend myself at all. I'm supposed to be a strong and independent woman, but I felt like a fool.

Next time, I'm making like the Gartens and taking a cab.


Anyway, you should all read my friend and classmate Jennie's article on North by Northwestern. It really spoke to me, and she writes in a really honest and beautiful way. Enjoy! : I like you, but... By Jennie Wong


**Funnily enough, the photo accompanying her article is a platform in Barbes-Rochechouart. Darn you, Barbes-Rochechouart!

To Normandy and Back Again

I'm currently writing this update from the Starbucks terrace on my street. I know, an American at Starbucks. How typical. But seriously, this is the only place I've found with stable Wi-Fi. I'm tired of pirating my internet from "Casa Fernandez" and "BERTRAND" at the apartment.

Anyway, I returned last night from our orientation trip to Normandy. It was a nice trip, and I was glad to meet and get to know everyone in our group. The first day required us to meet at the Opera Garnier at 7 AM, and after that we were swept away to Normandy, birthplace of impressionism and very good apple juice. Our first stop was the World War II memorial and museum in Caen, and after that we were herded by bus around to an endless parade of different war memorials, cemeteries, and D-Day beaches. It was a somber day overall, mostly devoted to the American and German cemeteries, death, war and destruction. The countryside was beautiful, on a brighter note. It was a bummer to have to spend a whole day focused on negative things like casualties and battles, even though they are admittedly an important part of American history.

After our grand tour, we found our hotel in Caen, a city that was rebuilt after being destroyed during the war. Unfortunately, it still was extremely sad. I think one of my classmates described it as something out of the Eastern Bloc. She was absolutely right. Depressed neighborhoods, Concrete buildings, prostitutes everywhere. After throwing our bags in our rooms, we hit the town in search of dinner. At a small restaurant right next to our hotel were two young men who harassed every woman who walked by, shouting "Mamma Mia, do you speak English?" or "OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD". Usually French men restrain themselves to a silent check-out or a double-take, but these two were notable exceptions.

After escaping our harassers, a small group of us wandered through Caen's near-empty streets (on a Friday night) and found a tiny Iranian restaurant. I had the Moussaka (I have no idea if this is what it's actually called in Persian, but it tastes similar to the Greek dish) and some rose wine. (we don't know the people at the back table in the photo, by the way. But don't they look friendly?)


The next day was much more my speed. We got up and left Caen around 9 to visit two resort towns near the sea, Honfleur and Deauville. Honfleur is a busy little town, with hilly and narrow streets lined with old buildings, and lots of seafood restaurants boasting mussels and a great view. The Saturday morning market was in progress, so instead of getting lunch at a pricey cafe, some of us bought chicken, cheese, fruit, and bread from street vendors and had a picnic by the marina. We had a lot of time to spend in town, and were left to do our own thing, which I appreciated.

Our next stop was Deauville, site of the Deauville American Film Festival, and Coco Chanel's original boutique. No Meryl Streep sighting this year, I'm sorry to report. The town itself was quite impressive with beautiful villas, expensive shops and chocolate shops, and the largest beach I have ever seen, filled with unimpressive men in impressively small speedos.

Now I'm back in Paris, about to start the school year tomorrow morning. I can't wait to be on a schedule so my Parisian life can get going! I'm sort of worried about my French oral skills. Sometimes French people tell me that my French is good, and other times I'm stumbling over my words and feeling totally inadequate. I don't think I did very well on my French class oral placement test either... I froze up when the examiner was asking me questions. In my defense, they were pretty strange, for example: "What did you do when you were little?" and "How do you feel about Facebook?". My answers: "Uh....I went to school???" and "Uh...it's good??? " I guess I've only been speaking for about a week after a LONG period of inactivity, but still, not good. I suppose if my French class is too easy I can switch out, but I should have known to elaborate a bit...

In addition, I'm experiencing a bout of culture shock. While I was wandering around my neighborhood, looking for cafes, the post office, and the supermarket, I noticed that being in Paris doesn't feel like a vacation anymore. I realize now that I'm not going home for a very long time, and it's me up against the French world, which is making me feel sort of hesitant and scared. This is strange because in normal circumstances, not much intimidates me. I want to live like a normal French person/student, so hopefully I'll snap out of it soon!

My photo album of the trip can be found in the post below this one, so check that out!