posted by Charles H. Russo on Oct 11
October 10th 2007
Eating my lunch on a park bench in Paris today, I was thinking I should write more about little day to day stuff. But then I realized that my day to day is actually pretty boring and who wants to read that? Anyway, let’s give it a try, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Today I had to go to a hospital in Paris to pick up a special medicine that I can’t get in the pharmacies. I already mentioned this in a previous blog The witch at the pharmacy (I haven’t seen the witch in a long time).
I go in and there’s 6 people waiting. Great, I’m screwed. It’s going to take an hour I thought. See there’s no line, no “take a number”, nothing. Just a room full of strangers who are bound by the unofficial French code that forbids talking to strangers in public. It was like this at a laboratory I used to go to. Total chaos.
I remember one incident at the lab, two people came in together. My seat had an empty seat next to it so I got up to give them my seat and another. I thought it was very thoughtful. 15 minutes later when the woman says “next” I get up to go to the counter and the guy to whom I generously gave my seat goes up to the counter as well. His wife claims that he’s next, as if she’s an official judge handing out a verdict. I can’t believe what’s happening. I told them I was next and I pulled out my paperwork for the secretary so that there would be no discussion.
Were they doing it on purpose? I really don’t think so. I think the French don’t pay any attention to strangers and all they think about is being next. They probably thought I was leaving, and then saw the other me sit down after them and figured they were there before me. I know it sounds crazy but I do think that’s what happened. But then again I’m naive.
It’s sad but after a few experiences like that, one stops giving up their seat and other nice gestures. Get burned one too many times and you learn your lesson. And when you share a city with 10 million other people who’ve also learned their lesson, it can get a little unpleasant.
Back in the pharmacy, one of the employees came in to call one of the people waiting and I politely informed her that I had this special medicine which can only be dispensed by an intern (not sure why, I think it’s an attempt to make the interns do the more difficult work). A few minutes later a woman calls out “the patient with the ATU”. I heard her but before I could even think of moving a muscle a woman had practically ran to the counter. I’m not sure if she didn’t understand or if she was just trying to avoid me effectively cutting line (technically I was in a different line, one that fortunately for me happened to be empty). The intern threw a bag of medicine at me and I was out of there in no time. Cool.
I found a large quiche at the boulangerie (bakery) next door and got a piece to go, along with an almandine which is a little round tarte full of pate d’almonds (almond paste) complete with a fake cherry on top. I found a bench across the street in in the park that wasn’t occupied by drunk SDF (homeless people) like the others and had a nice relaxing lunch devoid of cigarette smoke and slow waiters. The quiche was pretty good, and the almandine better, all for 5.60 euros.
On the way to the metro I walked past a small fountain that presumedly comes from a spring under Paris. I once saw a report on tv about them, they’re all over. And the water that comes out is as good as the bottled water you buy. In fact, in some cases, it *is* the bottled water you buy. One company actually bought the rights to bottle it up and sell it. The whiff of urine kind of distracted from the experience though and I sped up as fast as I could. This is insane I thought to myself, usually the urine smell is in the metro and I’m in a hurry to get out.
As I’m writing this, On the metro back to work, a musician gets on and I instantly recognized him and his song. “Imagine” by the Beatles. It’s funny hearing a Beatles song with a Polish accent. The song instantly took me back to 4 years ago when I used to hear his music on the train to Saint-Lazare in the mornings. I know he’s Polish cause I spoke with him once as we got off the train. He seemed pretty nice and I wonder how he’s doing. Obviously he’s making money at it or he would be fixing faucets by now.
Just a few more stations until I’m back at the office where I’ll quickly post this and get back to pretending to be working (just kidding!)…
everydayfrance.com
Leave a Reply