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Paris Kiosque - June 1996 - Volume 3, Number 6 Copyright (c) 1996 Abbott Katz - Used with permission
The matter of the deportment of Parisians - or, perhaps, the lack thereof
- was long ago staked to a hallowed niche in the tourists' canon. The
belief in the abiding nastiness of the city's natives is something of a
conundrum, too; this most becoming of metropolises is yet the one whose
natives are so often thought irascible and nettling, especially to those
who happen to be passing through..
Who visits Paris for its people? I don't know, but the standard
incentives for coming here accord little honor to the idea that its
residents have something to bring to the tourist experience. Parisian
pique seems to roil the memories of many of its visitors; even my very
own brother the doctor came away from here with a fairly dour diagnosis.
Indeed - the recent French government drive to press for decorum among
its
constituents seems to accord with that notion, and a Parisian who wrote
me over the Net confirms that "even the Parisians agree that the
Parisians are surly and unfriendly. The people the French hate most are
Parisians," though the latter opinion may merely embody generic big-city
animus.
But proof for the incivility of Paris residents is likely spottier than
the stereotypist contends, and this New Yorker knows about stereotypes.
Your jaded-to-the-bone, curmudgeon of a correspondent, who is lobbying
hard to make chewing food with one's mouth open a capital crime, must
nevertheless report that his Paris
experiences have been, by and large, rather salutary. My visits here have
never wanted for the routine urban kindnesses that make city life
endurable, and while I would like to credit these courtesies to my
unmistakably doe-eyed, benign, even piteous persona, others can and do
corroborate my experience, too. (Note that I am tabling the serious
questions of French racism and anti-Semitism here.)
My informal sense, and one that I believe is ratified by others, is that
some facility with French will stand the tourist in smashingly good stead
here. A standard correlate of the "ugly Parisian" image is the conviction
that a great many of the residents speak English but will not deign to do
so, the better to spite their helpless American sojourners. Yet a
Frenchman told me that English fluency here is in fact not widespread,
and an uncomprehending look to a question in that tongue may be more
properly laid to native ignorance than a bad case of attitude.
Another Net interlocutor, an American who now lives just outside Paris,
informed me that in her judgement the city's collective disposition has
changed notably for the better in recent years. Her explanation? "I
figured that there might be a difference between my first visit [to
Paris], as a poor student, and my return visit, fully equipped with
several credit cards." The language of tourist commerce may now be more
universal in Paris than either French *or* Esperanto. AMEX spoken here,
might be the operative credo at
last.
I will close with a heartwarming story that should serve to throw an
epiphinal light on the dark side of the Parisian temperament. In search
of a taxi to the airport for a return trip to New York, I stood by the
curbside on Rue Magente, gesticulating helplessly at the cabs steaming
past my three bags and me with monotonous disdain. But I was soon
approached by a young man who notified me, in English that far surpassed
my French, that cabs don't stop for passengers on the streets the way
they do in New York; whereupon he proceeded to point me to the nearest
taxi stand at Gare du l'Est a few blocks away, command one of my bags,
and accompany me all the way to the station. This curmudgeon was duly
moved.
Of course it turns out he wasn't from Paris, but let's not get technical.
Abbott Katz
is a PC support analyst who lives in Brooklyn and has written for New York
Newsday and other publications. He will be sure to let you all know when
he plans to be in Paris next, and can be reached in the meantime at
akatz@juno.com.