The French Police Won't Give Me No Peace

So, after my last post, I thought (naively, I guess) that I was looking forward to a generally uneventful rest of the day. In fact, I was quite wrong.

After checking my email, searching through complicated French course catalogs and talking with my APA directors, I decided I had time to return to the Conciergerie, the site of my disappointing visit during the Journees du Patrimoine when they closed the prisoners’ cells and ruined my fun.

I hopped on Line 4 and rode it in to St. Michel, a stop I have gotten to know well.

Now, I have been warned before of the Metro police inspections to prevent people from sneaking on with a metro ticket. Well, today I descended from the Metro and there are the Police (or the Paris PoPo as I have dubbed them). I presented my ticket confidently and the police officer asked to see my Carte d’Orange. He glimpsed at it and said “Wait here”, and called over another female police office (there were probably 4 of them in all). She said in very fast French, “You need to come with me, please”. Naturally, I am about to freak out.

She was surprised that I spoke French, after I told her I was American. It turns out that I was supposed to put a passport photo on the Carte d’Orange and she charged me 25 euro for not having it. I explained to her that I had no idea that was the case.

As I understood it, the Carte d’Orange is a payment plan for the Metro and you can pay 100 euro a month to ride the metro as much as you want for that period of time. It turns out that everyone who lives in France must have a Carte d’Orange fully filled out, and it serves as a means of identification. Apparently, ignorance did not cut me any slack, but at least she did not revoke my prepaid, weeklong metro ticket. In the end, the whole experience was pretty unpleasant.

I asked my family about it later and at first they were scared that I had been swindled, but I assured them it was definitely legitimate. Camille says the Comptroller is at that particular stop all the time. She also said a friend of hers got stopped there and was charged 25 euros, but he was mad and called the cop a gros mot (bad word) and got charged 5 more.

On that note, there seem to be tons of Americans in Paris today. I don’t know why but I encountered several in the metro today and yesterday, on the streets today, and later in the Conciergerie. Although, the World Cup of Rugby is tomorrow at 9pm. Oh man, the metro is going to be a madhouse.

Anyway, I finally made it to the Conciergerie. (4.50 euros student fee – thanks a lot Paris Founder’s Day). It was really exciting for me – because I am so cool. I thought it was funny that there was a huge line outside the Cathedral of Saint Chappelle, but the Conciergerie was practically empty except for a very cute group of French schoolkids on a tour and some American frat boys from Saint Xavier killing time. One of them signed the guest book, “It sucks all those people died. Better luck next time.”

The site of Marie Antoinette’s original cell has been replaced by a chapel to her honor, put there by her brother-in-law Louis XVIII during the Restoration. They tried to recreate it downstairs but none of the furniture is even original. There have been a lot of renovations to the whole building because of fires and such, but there are several parts that are still intact, like the Women’s Courtyard, which has been unchanged since the Revolution. They even left the table and washbasin where the women cleaned up, and the Corner of the 12, where the women could talk to the men through bars outside.

There is also a chapel adjacent to Marie Antoinette’s chapel that was originally a royal medieval chapel. During the Revolution, all 21 members of the moderate Girondin Party were convicted by the radical Jacobin party (led by Robespierre) for conspiracy against the Republic and put in prison at the Conciergerie. Apparently, all of them had a large dinner and slept in the chapel together on the night before their death (not to mention watched one of their colleagues commit suicide by stabbing his heart with a stiletto).

In truth, I probably have a very romantic view of the Conciergerie (I wouldn’t be the first, hello entire Romantic Period), but the whole place just made me kind of nervous.

By the way, for dinner tonight we had some sort of potato thing that reminded me a lot of something Grandma cooks. Strange and delicious. I also tried leeches (spelling?) a fruit from Tahiti I don't think I've seen before. Delicious.

Afterward, we watched a very lively debate with Nicholas Sarkozy, the President, and two TV journalists. The woman was particularly aggressive and I was surprised how opinionated the journalists were. I cannot remember the male journalist's name but he is very much like their Tom Brokaw figure. I also thought that it was a much more demanding interview than it would have been with our President. In the White House Press Room I know how badly they grill him but never in an intimate and formal television interview (say with Tom Brokaw and Katie Couric). I thought he looked like he was running for office again. But I really admire that they are constantly testing him. He has great ideas (in general) but the French are getting very unhappy with him because he hasn't made anything happen yet. But he is still new, I think. It'll take a little time.

Also, I forgot to tell you that whenever I tell a French person my name they always say, "Yes, like the car." I still have no idea what car but it is even spelled like my name, apparently.

One more thing I think I forgot - going past the new shopping center in Arcueil the other day, there are huge banners on the side of the building to advertise the center (and for decoration, I imagine) of artistic shots of parts of the body. I watched them slowly pass, 3 or 4 banners of an arm, a stomach, a neck, and then finally at the very end, a HUGE poster of a boob. For real. Just hanging on the side of the building - very tasteful, very artistic, and very uncensored. I burst out laughing. That's definitely something a little different than at home.

Alright, that’s the tale of my strange and surprisingly eventful afternoon. More later. Love you guys!