Paradoxes Aplenty

My dear friend just gave me this great book that talks a lot about the paradoxes that exist in Paris. It makes me laugh out loud because many "simple" things here have baffled me to the nth degree due to the myriad inexplicable contradictions occurring within interactions and situations that "should" be rather straightforward (see prior entries about setting up a bank account for a small example). It is nice and validating to know that others are also subject to these haphazard "rules". And, as it happens, laughing at the unspoken arbitrariness of Parisian life is considerably more enjoyable than being publicly shamed to tears by the people who enforce them.

So, along those lines, I was walking through the park near my apartment the other afternoon and I saw something unusual occurring. There were approximately 100 kids in the park, which is about 75 more than there was room for given that the park in its entirety is about the size of a zoo cage (I realize how un-bizarre it is that I would come up with that particular analogy. My mind just naturally seems to view children as being indiscernible from zoo animals). This overstuffing of miniature humans running around like caged animals was not the strange haps, as it were. Rather, what gave me pause was the fact that the vast majority of these tykes were toting large red balloons as they galloped, skipped and threw themselves around in fits of "I-don't-yet-understand-how-dark-and-stormy-the-world-is" glee .

Now, I have to say that it troubles me that a park which does not allow dogs or picnics would allow young kids to run around with balls of stretched-to-capacity plastic. Once they pop--and pop they will given their over-filled nature working in conjunction with the sticks, playground apparati, and other child-park paraphernalia lying about--they will induce inevitable crying jags for various possessors of these "fun toys." Not to mention the fact that who wants to sit in a park and be unceremoniously jarred to attention by the unexpected popping of a balloon right near you? Not to mention that no one likes the sound of popping balloons period. Not to mention the plastic debris which will litter the ground in post-popping bird-strangling manner.

Or I could mention all of that.

So the whole enterprise confused me. Until I happened to notice a small green sign that was posted right on the chain link entrance gate to the park. The sign stated one thing: that balloons were interdit (forbidden).

It seems important to note here that the French word for "balloon" can actually also be the same word for "ball". Thus, you may interested to know that amongst the balloon-less children, there were countless balls of different sizes and shapes being tossed around and kicked in the direction of innocent readers heads.


So that is why they all have balloons and balls; because there is a sign expressly saying that they are not allowed. Hence, they are likely waiting for some American or other brave foreigner to report the alleged breach of justice to the park police and be publicly shamed to tears (again) about the fact that balloons are allowed on Saturdays. Or on Tuesdays. Or between 12 and 1 every other Wednesday. Or some other arbitray rule that is not posted on the sign, or anywhere at all for that matter. I swear they just do this stuff to make anyone on the "outs" feel like a moron.

Not that I would EVER report such a thing. I have cried enough, thank you very much.

And, by way of solidifying my need to mind my own business and thus retain any final shred of self-dignity I have remaining after 9 months in Paris, I am reminded of a time I walked through that very park a couple of months ago. I said "Bonjour" to the militant gentleman who mans the park security booth, and then looked at the only five people in the park at the time. They were sitting and smoking in a circle on the lawn, directly in front of the man's booth. Incidentally, they were socializing right next to a sign that stated that sitting on the lawn was interdit from mid-October to mid-April. It was March. I glanced back at the man as if to say: "Hey, we have RULE-BREAKERS over here!" I assumed he might be pleased to possibly make some people cry. Nope. Instead he glared at me, likely because I did not add a "Monsieur" to the "Bonjour", and/or because he detected my non-French accent. Obviously, he allowed the law-breakers to carry-on without interruption.

I mean what good is a sign stating what to do, if you are actually expected to do it? By way of wrapping this piece up, I would say that I could meet you in that park next weekend, with a dog, a picnic, and a bunch of balloons, and we could have a grand old time. But the problem is that if we ever did that, we would likely be kicked out right away--and maybe banned from that particular patch of grass forever. Why or how this retribution could be justified given the observations I have just shared, I cannot say in any way that makes any sort of sense. But trust me on this one.