Sights, Smells, Sounds of the Paris Metro

For a carnet of 10 tickets at a cost of 10.5 Euros, there is another world under Paris, that of the Metro. It contains a bit of everything that is happening on the street above.

Walk long corridors, some marked with little boutiques, flower shops, scarf stands.

Blue signs with white letters tell what stations the train stops at. Anyone who can read can’t get lost.

The Metro stations domed, like a wine bottle with one flat side. There is a smell of electricity and rubber

Floor to ceiling publicity marks each station with historic names: Bastille (tiled painting of the revolt), Louvre (art works in the subway, copies), La Defense (the other arch).

Mama Mia, internationally acclaimed musical, has arrived in Paris one poster says. A series of posters feature women with gray hair, wrinkles, freckles and chubby and proclaim them beautiful. A do-it-yourself store, Bricolage, is having a`sale.

A group of American students on a week abroad board a train. Each has two large suitcases, a sure sign they aren’t experienced travelers. They are loud. Americans of all ages have a reputation of speaking loudly. A question I am often asked is why we do that. I always answer softly.

There is a man with long hair, a sweater, and a scarf around his neck, indicating a sore throat.

A man reads Le Monde (liberal), a woman Figaro (conservative).

A woman in all black, but not of mourning, looks at her watch.

An expensively dressed couple get on. He wears a plaid cap. His hair is gray and I wonder if he is bald. He smiles. They speak French. His wife’s clothes say real money. There is an announcement to watch your step. “Mind your step, like London,”
he says.

“That’s not it,” his wife says in French.

“Mind the gap,” I say.

“That’s it,” they both say in English. They get off at Sablons.

A woman dressed in French clothes gets on with a silver coffee mug. You almost never see people carrying coffee mugs. Coffee is to be drunk sitting down and observing the world. I wonder if she is American. She speaks to her companion with an American accent.

The train arrives – Terminus the announcer says. I have nine of my carnet of violet rectangle tickets that used to be green that used to be yellow left.