Saturday, 14 May 2016

How to Make Parisians Smile

A woman smiled at me on the RER the other day. Normally, nobody smiles at strangers on the RER. In fact, even making eye contact without good reason can be an invitation to trouble, and anyone strikes up a conversation is almost definitely weird. But when you have big baby bump on display, the rules are different. People suddenly start to be nice.

And do you know what? I think I needed it. This winter, Paris has not been a particularly fun place to be. Lots of people said that after the terrorist attacks in November, the atmosphere changed, which might be part of it. Also, between flat hunting, the need to take three-hour naps at the weekend, and 11pm becoming my Saturday night bedtime, I have definitely been out socialising less than before, while even spending an hour or so wandering around the shops becomes boring when you know you can't fit into any of the clothes.

And so it was that my experience of "Paris" gradually became restricted to my daily commute, punctuated by annoyance at the people doing things like pushing through the barriers and smoking in the metro stations, sadness at the increasing number of homeless people spending the night in the RER, worry about the total unwillingness of European countries to do anything positive about the refugees and migrants who were probably the main factor in the rise in homelessness, and frustration at the endless suspect packages being found and prolonging the whole nasty experience by up to an hour each time. Oh and guilt, because being tired and grumpy and sad at having to witness the rough sleepers is clearly not even comparable to actually being the person who has spent the night sleeping upright on a plastic bench with nothing but newspaper to keep them warm.

I should add that I actually think that being confronted on a day-to-day basis with all these kinds of social realities is a very good thing. I don't want other people's suffering to be out of sight and therefore out of mind, or to live in a bubble where I can kid myself that everybody is polite and considerate and law-abiding all the time. But it's better when the gritty realities are balanced out by a bit of warmth and human kindness from time to time.

And that's what happened the first day it became warm enough to go out without a coat. One of the security guards at La Défense, whom its usually difficult to get even a "Bonjour" out of, said, "Félicitations - ça pousse!" as I showed him my handbag. People started to offer me their seats on the metro (often, embarrassingly, people who probably needed the seat far more than I did.) Shop assistants smiled and offered their congratulations.

Then there was the guy who, as I walked across the Place de la République, suddenly turned to me and shouted (in English), "Oh my god, you're pregnant!" Paris is still Paris. It still has its fair share of weirdos.

1 comment:

  1. This is one thing I adopted in Canada: smiling (usually, anyway) and being friendly to perfect strangers. And I notice how uncomfortable it makes French people feel when I'm in France!

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