Encore du Paris

The ghost flits past me and down the alley to where an old man digs in a flowerbed, watched by a girl in period costume on a second floor balcony. A small scene from a piece of street theatre, for which I was a guinea pig audience member. The walk took us through tiny streets, into carefully manicured gardens, over and along the Seine, into a church, a block of flats and finally back to the Seine again, where we wave as the tour boats chug past.

By the river, on the far bank, a man sags against a low wall, occasionally bending to slowly sip from a bottle in a bag. On our side a couple embrace passionately. Theirs is by no means a youthful romance, it has the look of a clandestine affair but I am probably jumping to conclusions. It started with a kiss but I never thought it would come to her wrapping her legs round him like this, like a public game of bench twister. There is no doubt that the French are not averse to public displays of affection, a cultural difference that is bound to impact on the psyche of the nation.

While my clothes are taking a spin in the laundrette I have walked up the stairs to the Sacre Coeur. I meet Ba-Kong, a South Korean guy travelling alone through Europe. He doesn't speak very much English, let alone French or Italian. Its a pretty brave thing to attempt but he has survived so far, though confesses he is quite scared. Back by the washing machines an old man stares at his rotating laundry, until I make a comment, perhaps about the weather. We converse for the duration of a thorough drying cycle. I struggle to cope with his polemical French, I fear sometimes that his opinions are less than open-minded but I am occasionaly forced to just nod, hoping that I am not agreeing with anything too far to the right. He looks away while I hurriedly get changed into my clean clothes then bid him goodbye. The neighbourhood around us is predominantly Ghanaian, festooned with barbers shops that are themselves festooned with wigs of every possible size, shape and colour. Perhaps this is the cause of the balding Frenchman's discontent.