A virtual (and somewhat crazed) tour of the Paris underground

If you want to discover Paris in a manner no other person has probably ever done, try the Métro. This is the underground network and conglomerate of steel rails and tunnels that span Paris like an unseen web. There are fourteen lines to choose from, each designated with a different colour, each heading different directions from the centre to the suburbs.

Let's say your hotel is at Haussmann Saint-Lazare, a hub for most Métro lines and a great place for shop-fanatics to shop. There's the Printemps Haussmann and the Galeries Lafayette for clothes and the like, and Citadium for sportswear. Out on the streets, it's not too hard to find the conspicuous red sign with "Métropolitaine" and a big round light above it (turned off during the day). It's drab green, and it's your gateway to the underground.

The ticket booth is occupied by the people of the RATP with expressionless figures and a bored look. Asking for a ticket sometimes comes back with a "I'm really bored and I have nothing to do and this tourist is asking for a ticket. Should I waste 4 calories to look up or should I continue to ignore him?" attitude, but it's satisfactory in most places. If it's Sunday the booth will be dark so you'll have to jump the turnstile like the four kids who did it behind you while you were purchasing the tickets. That too takes a bit of practice, because the heavy "door" beyond the turnstile can inadvertently slam into your face. Better go through with a helmet. In reality, you pass through the turnstile and then push back the "door" to squeeze through, because the "door" is meant as a deterrent for the turnstile-jumpers. I've seen business men in suits do it.

There's also another tactic by those who can't pay for a ride. They ask you if they can go through with you (provided you understand them). If you happen to mistakenly say yes, they just squeeze through the turnstile along with you. Hilarious.

Well that was a bit on the turnstile part of the Métro. On to the ride. Getting to the platform, however, is another thing. Thankfully there are notices everywhere as to where to go for the line you want, but at Concorde station some of the signs are skewed, so what was meant to be an arrow pointing forward points somewhere between left and forward. Gets a lot of people confused. Châtelet is the worst station in terms of actually getting to the train. Changing between the yellow 1 line and the pink 7 line takes at least 12 minutes. There's a floor belt to help weary passengers (like an escalator but one that brings you forward, not up), but 4 chances out of 5 are that it's broken or that the person in front of you has a suitcase that can't be moved. Once when the belt was broken a lady fainted and the paramedics had to squeeze past the stampede of people. It didn't help that the crowd was dreadfully curious, either.

Luckily today's itenerary doesn't involve changing at either station. You'll be taking the 9 line (olive green).

The platform is a normal one, but lacks the bump-tiles that are used to help the blind from falling off the platform (there's a plain white line instead). The train always comes from the left, unless you're at a terminal. If you're unlucky, there wont be music playing somewhere. The musical selection ranges from plain guitar, accordion (a common favourite), a violin, a trumpet or even a whole troupe of 5 people playing the cello, and/or a combination of the previous four. That's at the station. If you're in the train, chances are that you'll get a person singing karaoke to "Macarena" with double echo on max volume or some melodious Spanish guitar music strummed by a person with a 100 decibel voice. Donations heartily accepted. If you're really lucky, you'll step from an orchestra on the platform to a solo in the train.

The train's arrived. If you're taking the 1 line, then the train won't have carriages and will resemble a mismatched accordion, with each "carriage" connected to another without doors. There are 8 wheels per "carriage": four are a traditional train rail wheel, and the other four are rubber guards which help stabilise the train against a guard-rail. There's a swishswish sound as it enters the station. Otherwise, like today, you'll be taking a normal train (like the ones in New York or in London-- note if you're a Londoner, don't expect the tunnels to be round, and don't expect to be sitting knee-to-knee with the person across the aisle). Both types are painted a combination of white and green, the green you'd expect to see in a hospital.

Equally, don't expect the doors to open by themselves if you're not taking the 1 line. (yes, the 1 line is relatively "modern".. I think it was renovated not long ago, judging by the lack of graffiti) You'll have to take hold of a silver curved handle with a protruding knob and twist it upwards in order to open the door (accompanied by a nice "kaboom" as the doors open). The seats are brown, and close to the doors there are eight foldaway seats. If you sit down and stand up quickly, the seat will slam itself against the back of another set of seats facing the opposite direction with a conspicuously loud "kbam". A nice gray notice cautions in French, English, Italian and German to not use the foldaway seats when the train is crowded. There's also a subway map stuck to the side of the door, but it's relatively useless in a moving train, especially since it's only visible with a 12 inch magnifying glass. It'd be better to use the small folding map the size of three fingers together, given to you if you want at a ticket booth. It's so intricately folded that it's almost impossible to fold it back to the way it was, once opened. Most people don't even try.

to be continued...

Written on Sunday, July 4 at 8:04 PM