Sanctuary Of Random Keystrokes

We relied entirely on public transport to get around in Prague. We had acquired this 3-day pass at the airport that allowed us to use public transport within the city limits for a very reasonable price.

Public transport in Prague is a mix of buses, trams and the metro. Unlike Paris, where they’ll soon need to invent new colours for their Metro lines, Prague has just 3 lines and they are adequately served by primary colours (A – Red, B – Yellow, C – Green).

What Prague metro lacks in breadth, it more than makes up for in depth. Many stations are very deep underground.

The escalator rides seem to last an eternity and make your head spin. Such depths must take a toll on the escalators because we saw that about a third of them were out of order.

The concerned authorities would hang this placard in front of them forbidding you from getting onto them. Each time a train would pass it would circulate a dank draught through the station and make the placard dance fitfully for a few seconds.

[The wife is of the view that they were merely reserved for use during peak hours]

The stations were utilitarian but a few of them had an avant-garde decor comprising of dimpled golden and red/blue/green (depending on the station) plates:

The station names kept reminding me of Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi. Had the metro stations played Philip Glass on their public address system, I would have been greatly spooked.

Which brings me to the aural aspect of the public transport. The announcements in the Trams in Amsterdam are in a voice that is pleasant, polite but firm:

It’s like an old friend of your father counseling you about your prospects after college.

The voices I heard in public transport in Prague were feeble and lacked any authority. It was the voice your mother’s sister suggesting a home remedy for your cold.

I think traveling around the world assigning personas to public transport voices will be an interesting thing to do.

The reason we couldn’t find the Apple store at the Louvre was because it was in a mall underground. The steps didn’t look like they would lead you to anything significant. On the directory at the entrance of the mall, Apple is listed as the first entry under Leisure/Culture/Gifts.

[To my French-ignorant eyes, loisirs looks like losers misspelt.]

We spent another hour or two roaming in the gardens outside the Louvre (Jardin de Tuileries). The fountains and their usual inhabitants: the ducks, the pigeons and the sea-gulls, never bore me.

Then there were statues all around us, many of which wore such dramatic, pained expressions that I almost started feeling bad for them.

While some trees were showing signs of the impending autumn, it was by and large very green.

We emerged near Place de la Concorde…

…and began our search for the nearest metro station to get to Montmarte.

With 14 lines, the map of Paris looks complex and intimidating at first.

(You can find the original PDF on the RATP website)

It is however surprisingly easy to navigate.

Metros of big cities are a world of their own. My first impression of the Paris Metro from outside was this entrance to Les Gobelins:

Goblins? An old man holding a gun? It takes very little imagination to start worrying about exactly what you’ll below.

And the entrance to Place d’Italie looks like an entrance to a seat of witchcraft:

The reality of course is a lot more mundane. It’s an underground world of weary morning commuters nodding in sleep to the rhythm of the train. It’s a world of fluorescent lights and of massive metallic monsters pushing dank columns of wind through the tunnels.

It gets a little spooky when your train stops inside a tunnel for no apparent reason. The one time it happened to us, a very talented street (train?) performer kept our minds from working themselves into anxiety:

Each station of the Paris metro is a little different from the other. Of the stations we boarded a train from, the Concorde station still stands out in our memory for its walls covered in tiles of letters like a giant word search puzzle.

The overground stations are less interesting, but the views from the train you board from there compensate for it:

The trains of the Paris metro are a mix of the old and the new. A lot of older ones have latches that you turn clockwise to trigger the doors to open. The seasoned commuters work them 4-5 seconds before the train comes to a complete halt, and dart off in a hurry.

Most trains have folding seats near the entrance. We saw an episode which we are sure is repeated everyday. A tourist would sit on one of these folding seats, momentarily get up to help someone with their luggage, in the meanwhile the seat would fold back, the tourist would try to sit on a now non-existent seat, much hilarity would ensue.

We used the metro a lot to get around in Paris. You can buy individual tickets for €1.75 or a lot of 10 for €12.50. On our last day, we bought a spare lot just to make sure that we have an excuse to come to Paris again.

Update: Added more pictures of the Paris Metro on Oct 24, 2011.