Paris Gare Du Nord

Arriving in Paris, I tried to record train announcements. I would hear the bong-bing bong-bing that heralds them, frantically grab the recorder and wait in vain for them to be repeated, my arm dismally aloft. The heat of super chic French disdain was palpable.

Anxious, young man trying to get through the Metro barriers, accompanied by a polite sotto-voce "Shit, shit, shit..." I gave him a Gallic shrug and pulled my "Cést la vie" face but then he was through. We reached the train as it pulled out of the station. I shrugged again, assumed the face but this time said "Cést la vie" just in case he´d misunderstood the first time. Turns out he was French, so he had seen straight through my attempted nonchalance. I discerned that he was from the country, up in Brittany, and had recently begun studying in Paris. My French speaking is a little like a train, as it takes a while to get going and sometimes makes unscheduled stops. To add authenticity I fill these gaps with a protracted "ooouerrrrr" sound. When we reached Gare Du Montparnasse there was a long travellator thing. As if to prove he was capable of European calm he got on this and then stood still for the duration. Not wanting to be rude I stood too, and as people pushed past and huffed, he frowned at the Parisians´ stressful, rushed lifestyle. I mumbled agreement but couldn´t help feeling relived when we got off, my train now five minutes closer to departure.