Sans Domicile Fixe 2: Paris-ites

So this may be the most politically incorrect thing I have ever written, but it is what I see and often feel.

Paris is infested.  The weakened economy in Europe, the warm weather and tourist season has brought out a scourge.  Paris' infestation has caused her to become infected as well...she feels the pain of the poor, the angst of the homeless and the anger of the gypsies.

One cannot walk down any boulevard without stepping over or around the vagabonds...and one quickly becomes adept at the diversionary sidestep...I hate to admit it, but when I see the crosshairs of a target being leveled at me, I choose to have a coughing fit, and bring tissue to my nose, blowing profusely...no one, even the gypsies wants a cold.

I have noticed that there are varying categories of street people:

• the obviously mentally ill
• the unemployed reduced to begging
• professional beggars
• those who chose to live without walls
• and the Gypsies...I fear them.

Paris responds to each of these groups uniquely, but there is a layer of indifference that blankets the collective most of the time.  The first three groups are a fact of life in Paris...and mostly invisible.  Even the police ignore them. Every day, now that the weather is warmer, we find beggars plunked in the middle of the sidewalk, with their bags of bottles and collected bits.  Usually there is a coffee cup or basket for coins and a  sign scrawled on a piece of cardboard, "s'il vous plait j'ai faim.  je cherche pour travail."  Please, I am hungry.  I look for work.  Looking for work is pretty much limited to the hand made sign.  We have our regulars that we've seen out on St. Michel for months now.  I would say 90% of these folks are older men and begging is what they do.  There is a sub-category of this group who have puppies with them and they often ask for food for the dogs...quite successfully.  What is disturbing though is that although the panhandlers remain the same, the dogs change about every month or so...puppies are cuter, easier to feed and often easier to sell than bigger dogs.  I do not know what happens to the older curs. 

When I first took notice if this blight, it was a very cold evening in Lyon.  A heavy mist and biting wind whipped down the rues and boulevards.  Seated next to an ATM was a young man, of the "Goth" persuasion; spiked hair, black stained lips, black nail polish and a dark, moth eaten sweater.  On his lap, wrapped in a black pleather jacket were two puppies, nestled together, sleeping, providing warmth to the boy and each other, fighting as a family against the cruel elements.

But the cruelty of the moment came not from the weather, but from the tears in the boy's eyes.  He was trying to sell the puppies...he could not feed them or himself.  An older man, who looked rather down on his luck as well, bent down to pet the puppies.  The two exchanged hushed words and an offer was made.  I think the older man offered 5 Euros for the smaller of the two pups.  Handing over the puppy on a makeshift leash, the boy accepted the deal.  The other puppy began whimpering and tears the size of marbles rolled down the ashen cheeks of the youngster's face.  The dichotomy of punk and pitiable was stark and heartbreaking.  At least one was homeless no more.

Those who choose to live without walls...you can identify them by their backpacks and respect for there surroundings.  They live and move about the city, free from convention and free to experience Paris in a unique way.  This group of people are often treated fairly and with a level of dignity not afforded the other groups.  I guess it is because their situation is one of choice not circumstance.  Perhaps many of these folks are on a Kerouac-ian journey...romantic, authentic and that touches the hearts of the French. These wanderers utilize the system...France provides public toilets, public bath houses and plenty of soup kitchens for people down on their luck or in transition.  This group of people rarely beg...at least in my experience.

The Gypsies are a scourge.  This term is applied  loosely to those immigrants from Eastern Europe/Northern Africa who travel around the continent and often beg, scam or sometime sell trinkets, flowers, birdseed usually illegaly.  The Gypsies that plague Paris are not the romantic tambourine banging, dancing wanderers of ancient Indian ancestry or as portrayed in the movie Chocolat, no...these are bands of families displaced by war, bigotry and custom that prey upon tourists.  The worse the economy, the more aggressive the predation.

I was on my way to the Musee d'Orsay...proud of myself for venturing out while Bill was traveling on business.  As I turned left from the Rue du Bac onto the Quai Voltaire, I noticed a middle aged woman, nicely dressed reach down to the ground as if she found something.  But being ever observant, I noticed the gold thing in her handkerchief, long before she pretended to pick it up.  She stopped me...blocking my way as I dodged left and right.  She was "concerned" that someone had lost an 18 carat gold wedding band.  In my broken French, I suggested she turn it into the police.  She made a show of trying the ring on and then offered to sell it to me.  I said non merci; au revoir and scoot past her before I found myself in real trouble.  For once grateful that my conversational French was lacking, I ignored the rapid rapport of what could only be nasty.  I looked over my shoulder to make sure I was not being followed and wished the woman a bon journee.  Just a few meters down the block was a museum security guard, chuckling at the scene.  I gave him my best mommy eyebrow as I proceded to the Musee..."Shame on you!" was the intended message.  Ah just a few more yards and I would be in a sanctuary of beauty and creativity...and the first sign I see in 4 languages..."Beware of Pick Pockets!"  Honte!

I am sorry to say that this "lost and found ring" scenario has played itself out several times near major tourist sites.  I have learned that you just have to ignore the situation...a very unnatural act for me.  But I am learning.  The other ploy is for groups of two or three young women who walk up to you and ask if you speak English...apparently, North Americans are a soft touch and often give in to the beggars, or worse find themsleves distracted by one or two of the girls while a third picks your pocket or purse.  Again, the preferred response is no response and keep moving...especially if they toss bird seed on you.  The pigeons descend and they claim you owe them one or two Euro for the seed...don't stop.

The most brazen encounter I have had was just a couple of weeks ago.  Bill was traveling so Reilly and I were on our own.  It was time for the dog's mid-afternoon walk so we headed over to the Quai Montebello, near Notre Dame.  We walked down by the river and Reilly attended to her duties.  It was such a lovely day we decided to walk up around the statues outside the Cathedral.  We were in no hurry and I was enjoying the crowds of kids on school trips.  All of a sudden, something felt wrong.  Reilly's leash was slack.  I looked down and turning quickly saw no dog by my feet...rather there she was in the arms of a young Gypsy woman who was trying to take her off her leash!  I grabbed the dog and in my loudest Bostonian accent exclaimed..."What are you?  Wicked stupid or somethin'?! Policier!!" I then said something I would not want my children to hear and which was VERY inappropriate for outside a church...and the girl ran off to join a couple of others, laughing...and I could not find a police officer even though the station is one block from the church.  For the life of me, I don't know what she intended to do or how extreme my response would have been if she had taken Rei!!

I have talked with some of our new friends about the Paris-ites.  Everyone has a story and a lesson learned.  What surprises us though is the government's lack of response.  As the economy worsens, the illicit activity rises and with the exception of police rousting illegal vendors around the Eiffel Tower, the police ignore the problem...it is too costly to arrest them all and there are too many with whom to deal.  It is easier to take a police report on a theft and let the insurance companies deal with it rather than address this dirty little problem. 

The hardest part of all is accepting this unacceptable human condition.  To have to ignore people...to not see them...to walk away...this is just not who I was brought up to be, but to respond is to put yourself in danger.  Kindness is very often not appreciated and those institutions designed to address this are either overwhelmed or themselves now indifferent.  I pray a lot for these people and that God grant me the wisdom to make an appropriate difference.