April-in-Paris: The Case of the Runaway Bus

16 April 2008

View of Park in Place des Vosges

Today is a day to share with you a few thoughts about Paris traffic. Although it appears to be chaotic, most drivers seem to have a very good idea of what they are doing. In addition to the buses and cars, however, there are thousands of moped and scooter drivers who seem hell-bent on killing themselves as well as any pedestrian who might venture into the street, no matter what colour the light may be.

There are crossing areas marked with white bars (i.e. zebra crossings) but their significance, if any, seems to have largely escaped Parisian drivers. No, that's not fair, they will give you a bit more of a sporting chance when you are legally crossing there, but if you really expect them to stop, you may well find yourself lying crosswise on the crossing being abused by the driver who hit you. As a friend of mine remarked with reference to Italian traffic, "the only safe way to cross is accompanied by a nun," may well be the best advice for crossing streets in Paris.

If you remember the opening bars of Gershwin's "American in Paris," that is exactly what the Paris streets sound like. But while the music gives a sense of motion, it is not always so. Today we got caught in the mother of all traffic jams. But before going into that, let me take you back a bit.

You may remember my remarking that Virginia prefers to travel by bus. Well, today we set off for the Marais to visit the exquisite Place des Vosges. In order to get there we took a bus into the heart of Paris and changed to one that ran along the Seine to a stop called St Paul. Traffic was heavy and we travelled slowly and then all of the stops we expected to see weren't there! In fact, the bus didn't seem able to stop! At first we weren't quite sure what was happening, then we began to think we had been bus-napped. Could this be a vicious plot against noble Australian travellers? In the end we realised we were well and truly off the correct route. Perhaps it was the look of shock on the faces of the other passengers or their shous of "Monsieur" that told us we were in trouble and the driver was probably lost.

We decided to get off the bus and find our way back but as our driver rounded a corner (very slowly) he discovered the bus was too big to get into the laneway he wanted to go down. "Bang," we had hit a tree head-first. "Pow," as he backed out he hit some poles. People continued to drive around us, cross in front of the bus and generally ignore the mess. A gentleman in the street directed the bus driver and abused a taxi driver who, in turn, was abusing the bus driver who finally, with lots of help, made the turn. We got off at the next stop. We crossed the road in order to get another bus back to where we had set out for originally.

The new bus travelled about 100 meters before the driver told the passengers that he was being re-routed. It was all right, though, he was going to St Paul. At least he thought he was. Suddenly we were in what I have already described as the mother of all traffic jams. Our driver re-routed and turned down a narrow lane. Yep, you guessed it! Only a small "bang" this time, but one hell of a "s-c-r-a-a-a-p-e." Once again lots of too-ing and fro-ing. Fortunately, when he got going, we realised we were within walking distance of where we wanted to be; exited the bus, and walked.

We found our way to the Place des Vosges, the oldest square in Paris, where we wandered around admiring this beautiful square and eventually had a somewhat dissapointing lunch. The Place is in the area called the Marais which is the centre for Jewish life in Paris and the site of the old Jewish quarter. Marais means "marshlands," and it is upon these that the quarter was actually built. In the seventeenth century, this was a very fashionable area but later declined although it is now returning, at least in part, to its former glory.

The Place des Vosges in surrounded by renaissance mansions and an arcaded corridor which allows shoppers to do their thing in all kinds of weather. In the centre is a large, lovely park pictured at the top of the blog.

We walked from there to Rue des Rosiers, a narrow street in the old Jewish section which has become one of the most fashionable shopping districts in Paris. Mixed in with the many beautiful shops are Jewish restaurants and placed alleged to sell the best Felafal in Europe. I especially enjoyed it since the smells and sights brought back childhood memories.

From there we walked up to the National Archives where I was interested in seeing an elegant early eighteenth century structure which, in addition to supplying water to Parisians has a plaque marking the height of the sea level in Marseilles, place there by order of Baron Haussmann.