CAMBRONNE
I studied in France for two years in the early 90s. I saw a lot of very beautiful things for the first time in my life. I also witnessed some incredibly incidents that are hard to forget. This is what happened while I was riding the Metro of Paris one late winter day.
I was on the Metro all by myself. I believe I was returning to campus in Jouy-en-Josas after a sleepover at a friend's place in Paris. There were quite a few passengers on the train despite it being a weekday afternoon. It was before the advent of iPod or smart phones. Passengers on the train were either reading a book or simply looking around mindlessly.
At one stop, an old man and an old woman got on the car I was in. The moment they hopped on, everybody frowned. It was hard to not notice them. They smelled. I mean, really smelled. Like everybody else, I could not helping turning to look at them: they were wearing rather dirty, ragged clothes. They both dragged with them multiple large and small bags. It looked like they were homeless.
The old woman plopped down in the second row. The old man took a seat in the front row, but turned backwards to face her. The old man had a red, bulbous nose that resembles a large, distorted strawberry. The old woman had also a grotesque, red nose that looked way too big for her face. Several of her front teeth were missing. They both had very hoarse voices. The two were chatting rather loudly. However, I could not make out one single word they were saying because they sounded like wild animals roaring. It was obvious that they both drank and smoked a lot.
A couple passengers immediately got up and moved to the other side of the car.
As they were chatting, the old woman pulled out a baguette from one of her many dirty plastic bags and offered it to the old man. The old man laughed happily and, in turn, pulled out something from one of his bags to reciprocate -- a can of sardines! The moment he pulled the tab of the can of sardine, the greasy, fishy smell permeated every corner of the car. The already stale, muggy air became almost nauseating.
It was like a surreal drama in the middle of a Metro car: The old man offered the sardines to the old lady. She stuck her filthy fingers into the can to grab one and slung it into her mouth. She licked her fingers audibly and started gnawing at the baguette in her other hand. It was his turn to eat. The old man brought the can by his mouth and started slurping the oily sardine juice . . .
I watched all these happen before my eyes with disbelief. Some passengers covered their mouths with their hands. I could feel my stomach turning.
"What should I do? Should I get up from my seat? Everybody is sitting still in their seats, though. Plus, the train is moving. Where can I go, anyways?" All sorts of ideas raced through my mind.
It felt like forever before the train came to a stop. A couple people popped up and got off the train. I thought, maybe I should get up, too. That was when I realized my legs felt kinda weak. I was beginning to feel sick . . .
A few people unsuspectingly got into our car. Of those people, a pretty, fashionable woman sat down right next to the old man on the aisle seat. She must have been quite distracted because she did not even look before she sat down. Obviously, she was not aware of what was going on right next to her. The entire time, she was looking out the windows on the other side of the train.
The train kept going. The picnic went on. The happy old couple shared the bread and opened yet another can of sardines. Maybe the old woman's baguette was stale. The old man could not tear it with one hand. So, he set down his can of sardines next to him . . . on the fashionable woman's coat. And he spilled the juice. I could not see the expression on my own face, but it was hard to miss that on the faces of my fellow passengers. Shock and horror. We were all speechless.
About 30 seconds later, a brave passenger managed to make a grunt and pointed out the sardine can to the fashionable woman. In awe, she jumped up instantaneously. The can of sardines flew off her coat and scattered across the train floor. Greasy sardine juice dripped all over the place from her coat. A stream of smelly, greasy fluid began flowing on the floor of the moving train . . .
About this time, the train came to another stop. I summoned all my might to pushed myself out of my seat. I dashed off the train as soon as the doors opened. Without looking back, I ran the fastest I could along this very long platform to exit the station. I need air!
It took me a long time to collect myself together and regain my composure. I was so consumed by the weird scene on the train that I had no idea where I was. As I made my way back into the station, I saw this unfamiliar name in huge, broad lettering on the wall: CAMBRONNE -- now a name I will never forget.
I was on the Metro all by myself. I believe I was returning to campus in Jouy-en-Josas after a sleepover at a friend's place in Paris. There were quite a few passengers on the train despite it being a weekday afternoon. It was before the advent of iPod or smart phones. Passengers on the train were either reading a book or simply looking around mindlessly.
At one stop, an old man and an old woman got on the car I was in. The moment they hopped on, everybody frowned. It was hard to not notice them. They smelled. I mean, really smelled. Like everybody else, I could not helping turning to look at them: they were wearing rather dirty, ragged clothes. They both dragged with them multiple large and small bags. It looked like they were homeless.
The old woman plopped down in the second row. The old man took a seat in the front row, but turned backwards to face her. The old man had a red, bulbous nose that resembles a large, distorted strawberry. The old woman had also a grotesque, red nose that looked way too big for her face. Several of her front teeth were missing. They both had very hoarse voices. The two were chatting rather loudly. However, I could not make out one single word they were saying because they sounded like wild animals roaring. It was obvious that they both drank and smoked a lot.
A couple passengers immediately got up and moved to the other side of the car.
As they were chatting, the old woman pulled out a baguette from one of her many dirty plastic bags and offered it to the old man. The old man laughed happily and, in turn, pulled out something from one of his bags to reciprocate -- a can of sardines! The moment he pulled the tab of the can of sardine, the greasy, fishy smell permeated every corner of the car. The already stale, muggy air became almost nauseating.
It was like a surreal drama in the middle of a Metro car: The old man offered the sardines to the old lady. She stuck her filthy fingers into the can to grab one and slung it into her mouth. She licked her fingers audibly and started gnawing at the baguette in her other hand. It was his turn to eat. The old man brought the can by his mouth and started slurping the oily sardine juice . . .
I watched all these happen before my eyes with disbelief. Some passengers covered their mouths with their hands. I could feel my stomach turning.
"What should I do? Should I get up from my seat? Everybody is sitting still in their seats, though. Plus, the train is moving. Where can I go, anyways?" All sorts of ideas raced through my mind.
It felt like forever before the train came to a stop. A couple people popped up and got off the train. I thought, maybe I should get up, too. That was when I realized my legs felt kinda weak. I was beginning to feel sick . . .
A few people unsuspectingly got into our car. Of those people, a pretty, fashionable woman sat down right next to the old man on the aisle seat. She must have been quite distracted because she did not even look before she sat down. Obviously, she was not aware of what was going on right next to her. The entire time, she was looking out the windows on the other side of the train.
The train kept going. The picnic went on. The happy old couple shared the bread and opened yet another can of sardines. Maybe the old woman's baguette was stale. The old man could not tear it with one hand. So, he set down his can of sardines next to him . . . on the fashionable woman's coat. And he spilled the juice. I could not see the expression on my own face, but it was hard to miss that on the faces of my fellow passengers. Shock and horror. We were all speechless.
About 30 seconds later, a brave passenger managed to make a grunt and pointed out the sardine can to the fashionable woman. In awe, she jumped up instantaneously. The can of sardines flew off her coat and scattered across the train floor. Greasy sardine juice dripped all over the place from her coat. A stream of smelly, greasy fluid began flowing on the floor of the moving train . . .
About this time, the train came to another stop. I summoned all my might to pushed myself out of my seat. I dashed off the train as soon as the doors opened. Without looking back, I ran the fastest I could along this very long platform to exit the station. I need air!
It took me a long time to collect myself together and regain my composure. I was so consumed by the weird scene on the train that I had no idea where I was. As I made my way back into the station, I saw this unfamiliar name in huge, broad lettering on the wall: CAMBRONNE -- now a name I will never forget.
Credit: Geralix (Wikipedia)
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