Another long hike yesterday took me to the outskirts of central Paris yesterday, this time 7.1 miles in just under two and a half hours. In general, I am trying to make my way round the edge of the city from north to south, along the eastern edge.
I started out going north on the Rue du Faubourg du Temple, up to the Boulevard de Belleville, where I turned right, and headed east. This is a broad boulevard and on Friday it was packed with people in the market. I chose not to walk through the market, just because it was so crowded, and also because quite frankly, there's not a lot to see, except the same things, over and over. Fruit and vegetable vendors, meats, cheeses and cheap clothing and household goods repeat themselves every few feet. It's hard to imagine shopping more than a few minutes here, as there is rather chaotic line at each vendor, and the shoppers aggressively vie for position. Mostly, the old women win this game, simply by moving in close and demanding attention. Any attempt at politeness leads to a delay in being served.
I skirted the market for a few blocks and then turned north again, up the Rue de Melinmontant. This is a narrow street that goes uphill for most of the way, and it is unremarkable in that the shops are nothing unusual and often just a little bit sad on the exterior and in the windows. This is a relatively poor section of town, so the frequency and quality of goods is low. For example, the meats in the butcher shops often looks poor, dry and rather suspect. I often wonder who shops here, as most of the time they are empty. The same with the bakeries and cheese shops, jewelers and clothing stores. Perhaps it's the time of day, but I can't help thinking that most of them are on their way to going out of business in a couple of months.
Some places, however, persist. There are a few shops that are always nearby, no matter where you go in Paris. First of all, there are the phone stores. There are at least two or three on every block. My own street, which is considerably busier than many that I have walked down, is no exception. The most common is Lycamobile, which appears to be a chain, but there are literally dozens of independent shops. Like so many other shops, there appear to be no customers inside, just a bored shopkeeper on his or her phone. These places are incredibly well-lit, with fluorescent lights so bright that it hurts to look inside. The windows are full of ancient phones, tablets and accessories. These days, when everyone already has a phone, it makes me wonder if they are not merely fronts for mob money.
Another place that you will find within a few hundred feet of any place you choose to settle in Paris are kebab shops. Like the phone stores, they are brightly lit and, nine out of ten times, empty. Oh, there is the occasional diner, but I suspect that they are just a member of the family of the owner, paid to sit and pretend to eat. For one thing, their menus are so extensive as to be suspect. They not only offer kebabs, but also falafel, fried chicken and sandwiches. These are offered on their own, or as a combo, with fries and a drink. I've eaten in just one of these joints, here on my street and the food was, as you might expect, awful.
Speaking of awful, you will find a Macdonald's within blocks of any place you choose to pick in Paris. There are at least six of them around my neighborhood, and I long ago lost count of them in my walks. It seems that no no matter how far out nor desolate the street, there is a Micky Dees nearby. And unlike the kebab shops, these places are always doing a brisk business. There are KFC's and Pizza Huts out there too, but they are fewer and farther between.
Another common sight are the little house goods stores, whose wares are invariably out on the sidewalk, requiring passersby to step out into the street. Again, they are almost always empty, with a bored shopkeeper in the doorway, smoking or browsing on their phone or both. The goods here are usually cheap in quality but expensive in price. Plastic goods and suitcases seem to be the big sellers, based on what's usually displayed out front.
Women's clothing stores are also frequent sights, but again, it's hard to imagine that they are doing a thriving trade, as they are also empty save for the bored shopgirl and an occasional browser. I guess it would be unusual to see a line out the door, but still I cannot see how they manage to stay in business with what appear to be so few customers. The same with shoe shops--lots of goods but no one seems to be buying.
I'd be doing a disservice to the city if I did not mention the absolutely most frequent establishment, the cafe. Of course, this is the trademark of Paris, much more than the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe, probably since the cafe predates both of those monuments as symbols of the Parisian life. Like many other places, though, many cafes are either downright empty or nearly so. But this may be because they are so common--it's hard to find enough people to fill them all. And, to be sure, many cafes are mobbed in the evening, especially during the summer. Not unlike the British pub, these are gathering places for the locals, folks who actually live on the street. Close and convenient for a meetup, this is not so surprising, just slightly annoying at times.
So it was along the Melinmontant all the way up to the top of the hill. I've learned that walking north from my flat is usually an uphill journey--think about Sacre Coeur looking down on the city. Where Melinmontant becomes the Rue de Farageau has no view back down on the city, just a rather bleak plaza. This street leads to the edge of Paris, just short of the Peripherique, where I turned right on the Boulevard des Marechaux.
This is a broad and flavorless street, with massive and equally boring apartment building on either side. An occasional burst of small dwellings, sort of like brownstones, are intermixed, but for the most part it's just a long desolate stretch, punctuated by a tire store, a gas station and a fitness center. The buildings seem like terrible places to live, not because they are poor, just monochromatic and dull. I expect that the apartments are rather nice inside, or at least I hope so, since that would make up for the sadness that is the street life, or lack thereof.
A few blocks of this and I was ready to turn to home, a right on the Rue de Bagnolet. This street runs roughly parallel to the street I walked down the day before, the Rue de Belleville, but it was not nearly so interesting. This street also runs up alongside the Cimitiere Pere Lachaise, but I have already had a long walk through there and kept to my path toward home. This was a downhill walk, so it was a little easier, physically, but in general just tired and sad. The fruits and vegetables looked old and tired, the meats and cheeses dry and unappetizing. Even the people--though thankfully not tourists--seemed unenthusiastic and worn down.
Reading this , perhaps you think I have grown tired of Paris, but this is certainly not the case. If anything, it's given me new insight to this place. It seems very romantic from far away, but up close, it's a lot like every place, sometimes just old, sometimes just boring, mostly just ordinary. At least in these places one does not find all the tourist traps and souvenir shops that dominate in the city center, and that in itself is refreshing.
I have to point out that this journey is basically just begun. I have only seen the tiniest fraction of the city--all of it north of river. With a couple of exceptions, I have yet to venture south of the Seine, but as time goes on, I will go further, using the metro to get out and walking back. For now, though, I have a few more walks to take up here.
The last part of the journey yesterday was the most boring--a long hike up the Boulevard de Voltaire, all the way from just above the Place de la Bastille back to Republique and home. I've walked this a few times, and eventually it becomes a task, not unlike hiking back to base camp, looking forward to a drink and some dinner.
I started out going north on the Rue du Faubourg du Temple, up to the Boulevard de Belleville, where I turned right, and headed east. This is a broad boulevard and on Friday it was packed with people in the market. I chose not to walk through the market, just because it was so crowded, and also because quite frankly, there's not a lot to see, except the same things, over and over. Fruit and vegetable vendors, meats, cheeses and cheap clothing and household goods repeat themselves every few feet. It's hard to imagine shopping more than a few minutes here, as there is rather chaotic line at each vendor, and the shoppers aggressively vie for position. Mostly, the old women win this game, simply by moving in close and demanding attention. Any attempt at politeness leads to a delay in being served.
I skirted the market for a few blocks and then turned north again, up the Rue de Melinmontant. This is a narrow street that goes uphill for most of the way, and it is unremarkable in that the shops are nothing unusual and often just a little bit sad on the exterior and in the windows. This is a relatively poor section of town, so the frequency and quality of goods is low. For example, the meats in the butcher shops often looks poor, dry and rather suspect. I often wonder who shops here, as most of the time they are empty. The same with the bakeries and cheese shops, jewelers and clothing stores. Perhaps it's the time of day, but I can't help thinking that most of them are on their way to going out of business in a couple of months.
Some places, however, persist. There are a few shops that are always nearby, no matter where you go in Paris. First of all, there are the phone stores. There are at least two or three on every block. My own street, which is considerably busier than many that I have walked down, is no exception. The most common is Lycamobile, which appears to be a chain, but there are literally dozens of independent shops. Like so many other shops, there appear to be no customers inside, just a bored shopkeeper on his or her phone. These places are incredibly well-lit, with fluorescent lights so bright that it hurts to look inside. The windows are full of ancient phones, tablets and accessories. These days, when everyone already has a phone, it makes me wonder if they are not merely fronts for mob money.
Another place that you will find within a few hundred feet of any place you choose to settle in Paris are kebab shops. Like the phone stores, they are brightly lit and, nine out of ten times, empty. Oh, there is the occasional diner, but I suspect that they are just a member of the family of the owner, paid to sit and pretend to eat. For one thing, their menus are so extensive as to be suspect. They not only offer kebabs, but also falafel, fried chicken and sandwiches. These are offered on their own, or as a combo, with fries and a drink. I've eaten in just one of these joints, here on my street and the food was, as you might expect, awful.
Speaking of awful, you will find a Macdonald's within blocks of any place you choose to pick in Paris. There are at least six of them around my neighborhood, and I long ago lost count of them in my walks. It seems that no no matter how far out nor desolate the street, there is a Micky Dees nearby. And unlike the kebab shops, these places are always doing a brisk business. There are KFC's and Pizza Huts out there too, but they are fewer and farther between.
Another common sight are the little house goods stores, whose wares are invariably out on the sidewalk, requiring passersby to step out into the street. Again, they are almost always empty, with a bored shopkeeper in the doorway, smoking or browsing on their phone or both. The goods here are usually cheap in quality but expensive in price. Plastic goods and suitcases seem to be the big sellers, based on what's usually displayed out front.
Women's clothing stores are also frequent sights, but again, it's hard to imagine that they are doing a thriving trade, as they are also empty save for the bored shopgirl and an occasional browser. I guess it would be unusual to see a line out the door, but still I cannot see how they manage to stay in business with what appear to be so few customers. The same with shoe shops--lots of goods but no one seems to be buying.
I'd be doing a disservice to the city if I did not mention the absolutely most frequent establishment, the cafe. Of course, this is the trademark of Paris, much more than the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe, probably since the cafe predates both of those monuments as symbols of the Parisian life. Like many other places, though, many cafes are either downright empty or nearly so. But this may be because they are so common--it's hard to find enough people to fill them all. And, to be sure, many cafes are mobbed in the evening, especially during the summer. Not unlike the British pub, these are gathering places for the locals, folks who actually live on the street. Close and convenient for a meetup, this is not so surprising, just slightly annoying at times.
So it was along the Melinmontant all the way up to the top of the hill. I've learned that walking north from my flat is usually an uphill journey--think about Sacre Coeur looking down on the city. Where Melinmontant becomes the Rue de Farageau has no view back down on the city, just a rather bleak plaza. This street leads to the edge of Paris, just short of the Peripherique, where I turned right on the Boulevard des Marechaux.
This is a broad and flavorless street, with massive and equally boring apartment building on either side. An occasional burst of small dwellings, sort of like brownstones, are intermixed, but for the most part it's just a long desolate stretch, punctuated by a tire store, a gas station and a fitness center. The buildings seem like terrible places to live, not because they are poor, just monochromatic and dull. I expect that the apartments are rather nice inside, or at least I hope so, since that would make up for the sadness that is the street life, or lack thereof.
A few blocks of this and I was ready to turn to home, a right on the Rue de Bagnolet. This street runs roughly parallel to the street I walked down the day before, the Rue de Belleville, but it was not nearly so interesting. This street also runs up alongside the Cimitiere Pere Lachaise, but I have already had a long walk through there and kept to my path toward home. This was a downhill walk, so it was a little easier, physically, but in general just tired and sad. The fruits and vegetables looked old and tired, the meats and cheeses dry and unappetizing. Even the people--though thankfully not tourists--seemed unenthusiastic and worn down.
Reading this , perhaps you think I have grown tired of Paris, but this is certainly not the case. If anything, it's given me new insight to this place. It seems very romantic from far away, but up close, it's a lot like every place, sometimes just old, sometimes just boring, mostly just ordinary. At least in these places one does not find all the tourist traps and souvenir shops that dominate in the city center, and that in itself is refreshing.
I have to point out that this journey is basically just begun. I have only seen the tiniest fraction of the city--all of it north of river. With a couple of exceptions, I have yet to venture south of the Seine, but as time goes on, I will go further, using the metro to get out and walking back. For now, though, I have a few more walks to take up here.
The last part of the journey yesterday was the most boring--a long hike up the Boulevard de Voltaire, all the way from just above the Place de la Bastille back to Republique and home. I've walked this a few times, and eventually it becomes a task, not unlike hiking back to base camp, looking forward to a drink and some dinner.
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