spot the canadian tourist

One of the easiest games to play in the Paris Métro is called “spot the tourist”. It’s easy because the tourists make it so obvious. They’re always the loudest talkers, the oddest dressers, and they generally keep to being in everyone’s way. American tourists usually come back from a trip to Paris saying something like, “French people hate Americans!!” but in reality, Parisians just have a strong disdain for tourists of all nationalities. It’s hard not to acquire this scorn for the tourist when you’re living in the most visited city in the world.

By far the easiest tourist to spot is the Canadian. Here’s an example. Try to spot the Canadian tourist in this fancy drawing inspired by one of the greatest Canadians on the internet, the man behind toothpastefordinner:

If you guessed the one in the middle, you're right.

phallic-like mass to the north

What would the NYC Subway system look like if it was placed in Seattle? This site made a map and thought it would look something like this:

This map is to scale and it’s funny how well it fits. It also makes me realise how dense NYC is, because the entire system doesn’t even reach as far as SeaTac and Redmond. Looking at just the island of Manhattan, the phallic-like mass to the north, you can see it only stretches between Kenmore and the downtown waterfront while remaining too thin to reach Capital Hill and Ballard, yet houses about 1.6 million people.

For more subway maps to scale, look here. Although it’s not really fair because some maps (London) include suburban trains while some don’t (Paris). The site’s author must have OCD because he has some strange maps, like this one connecting NYC schools and a map connecting all identically named places. I also want to mention this:

It’s what the US states could look like if they were reorganised to contain equal populations. Although if I were personally responsible for reorganising WA’s borders, I would separate Eastern WA and put Spokane in Idaho where it belongs.

how i pass my time

I love my iPod Touch. I can’t think of a more perfect device (okay, except an iPhone). It goes everywhere with me. It’s how I pass my time. When I’m not busy staring at strange people or being annoyed by small children in the métro, I can usually be found listening to music or playing a game on my iPod. Usually both at the same time. It makes the ride go so fast I’ve even been known to miss my stop.

I’m the king of Tetris. I love sitting by people who are playing it and thinking about how horribly they’re playing. “I am sooo much better at Tetris than this guy”, I think to myself. Perhaps next time I’ll pull out my iPod and show them how the game is really played. Maybe they’ll feel inadequate.

I was tired of waiting for EA’s long promised “Lemonade Tycoon” port, a game which I thoroughly enjoyed on my Pocket PC back in elementary school, so I found an alternative called, “Fruit Juice Tycoon“. This is the game that makes me miss the most stops. Not only do you manage multiple stores, but you actually make the drinks too. It’s pretty hard, and for the past month it’s been my in-transit obsession. As I write this, Lemonade Tycoon was recently released for free so I look forward to playing that as well.

Last night I bought Need for Speed, as if I needed more racing games. Anyway, it beats the pants off all the others. I’ve already reached the point of extreme frustration numerous times, as usual with Need for Speed games. I probably looked funny rolling my eyes at the screen as I constantly lost a police chase this morning.

she fell

It’s funny when people fall. We all think so. The bigger the fall, the bigger the laugh. That’s why shows like “America’s Funniest Home Videos” have remained so popular – so we can watch people fall or get hit all day long right from the comfort of our own living room. And most importantly, so we can laugh at the victims without them hearing us. Of course it’s not funny if someone is seriously hurt, but a fall is rarely very painful, so we can all laugh without feeling guilty.

Personally, I’d even go so far as to say that seeing someone fall can highlight my entire week. Today, on an early Monday afternoon, I’ve already made my week. Plus it all happened on the bus, making the story even more relevant for this blog.

I was sitting near the back of the 72 bus on my way to Gina’s place for lunch. About halfway through the journey, a young woman around my age stepped onto the bus, baguette pork sandwich in hand. The bus started to move and she headed toward the empty seat to my right. Just as she had turned around and started to sit, the bus diver slammed on the brakes and the bus came to a very quick halt. Most were able to keep themselves upright by holding onto the handrails, but this poor girl tumbled forward, face first onto the floor.

It looked like a hard fall and her lying there for a second or two before moving didn’t help. People gasped and a woman cried out “Oh my!” as someone dived to her rescue. But the girl quickly got up, smiled and assured everyone that she was okay. Her sandwich, and her face, were unscratched. After reassuring those around her multiple times, including the bus driver, she sat down in the seat next to me and we all continued on our way.

By now I was trying as hard as I could not to crack up laughing, as don’t I think the other passengers would have taken that very well. Concentrating on my music, I looked out the window and tried not to think about it. But really, how could I not? I mean she fell face first – right to the ground. All while managing to hold her sandwich in the air to save it from damage. And what about that sense of immediate panic from everyone in the bus. It’s hilarious. How could I be the only one? I was already thinking about retelling the whole story to Gina as soon as I got there and I know everyone else was thinking the same thing.

So I laughed… Not hard, just a quick snort. She sort of looked in my direction but I pretended to have something caught in my throat. I don’t know if she noticed.

roses in transitland

I tweeted about something recently, but I think it deserves more attention. By now, everyone’s heard and formed their own opinions about the near trillion-dollar stimulus package that the Obama administration passed a couple months ago. Infrastructure was obviously a priority of theirs when drafting the plan, hoping to act as a sort of 21st century “New Deal” program to create jobs now and benefit the country in the long-term. Western Washington gets its electricity thanks to depression-era hydroelectric dams, for example, and we all love the pretty lakes and clean energy that produced.

Transportation is among one of the biggest, most expensive, most important, and ironically in America, also one of the most out of date pieces of our national infrastructure. So naturally the administration didn’t ignore it when it came time to dole out the cash. Most significantly, as Obama explained last week, high speed rail will help bring the ‘change we need’ to our overcrowded freeways and airports:

http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/04/16/obama.rail/index.html

If you watch the video, you will see that among the list of 10 priority routes for high speed rail is the Amtrak Cascades Vancouver/Seattle/Portland line – which is obviously exciting for me. Washington State DOT has been fighting BNSF, the BC provincial and Canadian federal governments, and a hostile transit tax environment to expand the service for years now. But with the USDOT shovelling them some pieces of that 8 billion dollars, they should be able to get some big work done – and a lot needs to be done before the line is anything near worthy of being called “high speed”. But, money should be given out starting as early as this summer and WSDOT has many projects ready to go, just waiting for proper funding.

Of course, not everything is roses in transitland. ‘The stim’ also gives billions to build more roadways and lanes (people still think that helps traffic?) and more locally, Washington State still has gas taxes restricted to roads – and only roads – as written in the state constitution. (Of course there’s more to be said about WA’s tax system, no income tax being another issue). Still, this is a big step and I’m excited to see where it leads in my home state.

This shouldn’t be too surprising, considering that Biden has been a big Amtrak supporter his entire career and has taken Amtrak to work every day for years. Biden’s son even works on the Amtrak board (appointed by Bush, bizarrely enough). A federal government that likes rail transit? Weird.

i love graphs

Here’s something that should churn the stomach a little bit:

From The Economist

That’s right, the United States uses more gasoline than the next 20 world economies combined. Of course that’s not proportionate; America is big but it’s not that big. Like I said, I love graphs.

super secret

You know, when you’re in a public place, there are certain rights that you have to forgo. It’s all compounded when said public place resembles a tin can of sardines. For example, you must forgo the rights to nudity, wielding a weapon, and shouting ‘bomb!’ (unless there really is one, of course).

But you must also forgo the right to a truly private conversation. Anything you say is very likely to be overheard by someone, so most people watch after what they say. No overtly offensive words, no admission of crime, etc. Nothing that’ll get you in trouble. It helps to assume that the person sitting directly behind you is your mom or your boss – because it probably is someone’s mom or boss.

People break this rule all the time. Either they forget or they just don’t care, but either way, I’ve heard some of the strangest and funniest things while riding the bus.

Yesterday though, I sat next to  a woman talking on her phone. Normally, people who talk on their phone while being forced to sit next to at least five people in immediate proximity save their super secret conversations for later. This woman though, she just needed to get this super secret conversation done now. But what to do when the conversation is super secret and your location is super public? Well, you do what this woman did and cup your hand around the phone speaker and loudly whisper it all. You stare suspiciously at all those around you and you furrow your brows at those who casually look toward your direction, to make sure they know you’re in the middle of something super secret and they shouldn’t be looking.

But seriously, if your conversation is super secret and you’re oh-so-paranoid that someone will hear you, do it somewhere else. Wait until you’re not so close to others that you’re bumping arms. Meanwhile, let those who aren’t afraid to share their secrets with total strangers have your seat.

in bulgaria

I’ve been seeing a set of new ads on station platforms lately. It’s for a chain of grocery stores called “Monoprix”, and they’ve got a series of ads, each one devoted to a specific product and accompanied by a brief commentary. For example, one is for vacuum sealed deli sandwhiches. “The secret to their freshness? A short life”. Okay…

But one ad in particular I find a bit strange, if not a little out of the relm of politically correct. It’s for Monoprix brand plain yogurt and it says, “Go ahead and see if they’re less expensive in Bulgaria”. Excuse me? The implications of this ad are endless. Could Monoprix be having a problem with customer complaints about finding cheaper products in developing Eastern European countries? I personally expect things to be less expensive in Bulgaria, considering the yogurt was probably made there.

And what about the Bulgarian immigrants, surely there must be a few? How do they feel about their homeland’s GDP and purchase power being mocked in a French yogurt ad?

Meanwhile, winner for best ad has to come from good ole’ Chevrolet. In their latest bid for relevancy, Chevy is knocking off sales tax (TVA, or VAT for the Brits) and borrowing the most celebrated American slogan of the decade to announce it:

Please buy our cars, because Americans won’t!!

the whistling

Yesterday I was standing on the platform for metro line 1, on my way home from the pool. There was a two minute wait, so I stood there joining in the same game everyone always plays: guess where the doors will stop. This game is quite simple. Pick a spot to stand and if you’re lucky, the door will end up directly in front of you. It will open as if only for your entry. On these occasions you feel as though a red carpet should roll out and music should play as you enter your train. (Except if it were really my train, it would be blue and the seats would be bean bags).

As the train approached, I noticed a man standing oddly close to my left side. Too close for the amount of space that was available in other spots. This wasn’t rush hour; there was plenty of space for him to stand outside my personal area. To make matters worse, he was quietly whistling and I hate it when people whistle in public. The train stopped a couple steps to my right, I boarded, and I found my spot. As I was standing over a folding seat, that same strange guy from the platform stood next to me, yet again too close, but this time to my right and just out of my peripheral vision. And yes, still whistling quietly.

The doors closed and the train departed. After a couple of seconds I instinctually turned to look at my backpack, which I usually do to make sure it isn’t stuffed in some old woman’s face or haphazardly left open, but this time I saw something else. The whistling man was just beginning to caress the zipper to the middle pocket of my backpack, about to attempt a robbery of my swimming goggles. I instantly slammed my arm back in a very intimidating manner and knocked his hand out of the way. He looked up, saw my (very) angry and disgusted look, and looked forward as if nothing had happened.

This has never happened to me before. At least, not quite. I think I’ve had 10€ picked from my rear pants pocket before, but in all honesty I could’ve just dropped it somewhere. But this, catching someone in the act of pick-pocketing anyone let alone me, has never happened. I removed my backpack, held it close in front of me, moved across the car and stared at him with vigilance. Surely he’ll leave in embarrassment at the next station, I thought. But no. He stayed in the train, looking around, eyeing his next target.

I mean, why the whistling? You know when little kids joke about being a robber and they quietly sneak around humming or whistling “do-do-dooo”? Well this guy actually did it. This guy whistled “do-do-dooo” as he tried to open my backpack.

The rest of the way home, I couldn’t help thinking that I should have done more. Should I have said something? Should I have shouted, “PICK-POCKET” and waited for the inevitable mob to crucify him? Eventually, I just I felt bad for him. He wasn’t a criminal. Looking at him, he was probably a husband and a father. Someone who lost his job, or something, and was watching his family starve until he finally decided to take drastic measures. Or maybe he was a kleptomaniac and couldn’t help it. Or maybe he really was just a jerk.

I don’t know. I shouldn’t be wearing a backpack in a subway train anyway.

lines and dots

In Paris, it’s pretty much standard practice to accompany any address, any meeting place, with a corresponding subway station. As a result, any typical day can be plotted through a series of colorful lines and dots. For example, my school is on line M7 at Crimée. I like a café on line M10 at Cardinal Lemoine, I usually grocery shop on that same line at Pont de Saint Cloud, and I swim at Bréguet Sabin, line M5. Metro line 7 is pink, 10 is yellow, and 5 is orange. My Friday nights are spent at Châtelet, a hub for many lines, which I like to think helps make Friday nights more colorful for everyone.