Notes from the underground

The cleverness of my title for today's post is an attempt to counter the utter impression of stupidity that I gave Louise tonight at dinner. More about that later.

The focus of our attention today, gentle reader, is the Paris Métro. The Métro is a fascinating social system because it is easily the most popular mode of transportation within the city, and because there is a strict but unspoken social contract regarding its utilization. It creates an environment where people from strikingly diverse backgrounds are forced to stand in uncomfortable proximity and reluctantly take hold of the germ-infested handrails as they navigate towards their final destinations. It is understood, collectively, that this time will be spent in relative silence, observing fellow riders out of the corners of one's eyes or in the reflections of the windows. But one must never be caught in this act of observation-- that would be a violation of the contract.

At the same time that it is a mainstay of the modern world, the Métro also serves as a link to bygone eras. Each of its stops are named after famous people, places, and events from France's past, so that becoming familiar with a particular line or area puts riders in continual contact with the historical namesakes of each station. Bastille, Victor Hugo, Voltaire, and Pasteur are a few of the ones that make sense to me, but I'm sure the network is much more meaningful to true Parisians.

Fun facts about the Métro!

-Opened in 1900, it is the 5th oldest subway system in the world (London, at 1890, is the oldest).

-It was originally intended to serve only the areas within the city limits, because the Paris suburbs were thought to be dangerous and unsavory. It wasn't until after WWII that the system expanded into surrounding areas.

-In 1901, one year after opening, the Métro had already transported 55 million people. By 1913, 467 million people were using it annually. Today, 4.5 million people per DAY use the subway.

-The word "metro" as a reference for subways is derived from the name of the company that built the Paris "Métropolitain" system.

-There are over 300 stops in the city of Paris.

Now it's time for some visual aids.

This is the entrance to Porte Dauphine, one of the Métro's oldest stations. The dragonfly shape and stylized natural forms, handiwork of turn-of-the-century architect Hector Guimard, are typical of the art nouveau movement. All of his Métro entrances are now historical monuments.

You can only find these interactive maps at a few stations, but they're sweet. Press a button corresponding to your destination station, and the map lights up to show your various travel options from line to line.

"Well it's aaaaall right, even if the sun don't shine/ Well it's aaaaall right, we're going to the end of the line" (name that song)

We took a jaunt to the Passy station, which is on one of the lines that comes up from underground. This line goes over the River Seine and affords passengers a really spectacular view of...

The Eiffel Tower! I'm still a little shocked every time I turn around and see it.

Print advertising is as old as the Métro itself. Realizing the potential of a captive audience, Métro designers added these mock picture-frames to the Vaneau and other stations in the 1920s to draw attention to the posters.

The exterior of the Vaneau station is art deco in its linear, geometric style. The Egyptian slave fountain to the left is a nod to Napoleon's campaigns there.

The Cité station was built in the 1910s, and aside from having really cool light fixtures, is important and interesting because it is under water! This is the only passage underneath the Seine, and the roof of the tunnel is specially slanted to stand up to the pressure of the river. The tunnel was built above ground as a giant drum which was then lowered into the river and emptied of water. Why not make the subway come above ground at the point where it crosses the river, you might say? Because, foolish skeptic, doing so would've completely obstructed the view of nearby Notre Dame cathedral. They're thinkers, the Parisians.

The line 14 is pretty new, and comes equipped with walled-in platforms whose doors only open when it's time to board. This cuts down on drunken forays onto the tracks and bothersome suicide attempts in front of incoming trains.

The St. Lazare stop has these pretty columns in a church-like ring in its central station.

Our last stop of the day was the Bastille station, built over-- you guessed it!-- the foundations of the Bastille prison. Here they've sectioned off a portion of the remains for people to appreciate as they wait for their train, but the rest is still covered up.

I love the musicians who practice in the Métro because they provide a soundtrack for your Parisian travel adventures. You will see anyone and everyone in the tunnels of the subway, from single guitarists or accordion players to full orchestras practicing classical music.

After the Métro tour it was time for (surprise) another trip to Monoprix. Observe my new snacks!

On the plate we've got an improvised caprese salad, minus the basil, which I ate quickly and with fear because I didn't know when my host parents would be returning home and I didn't want them to see that I'd borrowed a plate and fork from the kitchen. If you've met my host mother this paranoia might be easier to understand. The mozzarella came in this little plastic bag from the cheese section and it was cute as well as cheap, so I expect I'll be making it a staple dietary item. Behind the salad we've got "tartelettes citron" (lemon-jelly cookies) and the Monoprix brand of Cadbury chocolate fingers, which I remember from my years in England and which are semi addictive. I also bought rice cakes because I'm getting really tired of my morning toast, and the stuff in the foremost package is sliced coconut, which I had to buy because it was so random! Coconut chunks? They're currently sitting on my balcony, which I'm using as an outdoor fridge because I'm scared to ask to use the one in the kitchen.

I promised at the beginning of this post to tell you why Louise thinks I'm the village idiot. Tonight was my first ever dinner alone with her, and it was unusually awkward. For some reason it is much harder for me to understand Louise than just about anyone else I meet here, and I have come to the conclusion that it's probably because she uses more slang. We had a stilted, pause-filled conversation wherein she asked how my classes were going ("Good... we visit a lot of museums") what my plans for the weekend were ("We are visiting Fontainbleu") and what I hoped to do after I graduated. That one was harder to answer, since I don't know any of the vocabulary related to "try to get in on the entry-level of a publishing house and work my way up to something less menial within the communications industry," so my explanation came out something like "you know, when a writer... writes... a book, and he sends it to a place where the people read it... i want to be the person... reading." To her credit, she keeps a remarkably straight face whenever I open my mouth. I feel the need to tell her that I'm much more intelligent and articulate in my own language, but instead I say things like "you are student of the art?", or "do you watch of habit the movies american?". It's a start.