Tuesday, 22 June 2004
Sounds
The loud grinding, buzzing, humming sounds of construction. The worker gnomes are at it again - this time, not only upstairs but also downstairs from me. I now have that to look forward to as an alarm clock every morning, for some indefinite amount of time. Oh, well.
A shrill rendition of "It's a Small World After All," whistled by Nameless Person in the Street on my way to work. Slightly more pleasant, but wouldn't you know it, his whistle carried over all the other sounds. This unfortunately meant that for the next minute (despite walking in opposite directions, and I walk fast), I was subjected to Disney's piece of finely engineered marketing. I spent most of the rest of the day trying to get it back out of my head.
The whir, buzz, whine and scrape of the dentist's tools. He had to be cruel to be kind: it's been four years since the last time I sat in that kind of reclining chair. I was a little nervous going in - not because I'm afraid of dentists (quite the opposite), but because I'd put it off for so long and was worried to hear that my mouth had gone to rot. Many thanks to Heather, both for finding a good dentist and for going so far as to make an appointment for me - just the jolt I needed to break my cycle of excuses.
The wheeze and moan of the accordionists (and their instruments) on the Métro, both to and from the dentist's office. Here's a tip for any traveler in Paris: there are licensed (by the transit authority) musicians in the Métro, these guys are most certainly not. It's not "cute" or "quaint" or anything but "crass appeal to the sympathetic tourist's dollar," and giving them money just encourages the proliferation of accordionists, all playing the exact same three songs that define the totality of their repertoire. Please do support the real artists, like the guy on the 9 line who sings an a capella version of "La Mer" mixed together with "Beyond the Sea" (Bobby Darin's better-known English rendition). Or the string quartets who brighten up the busier stations. Or any number of real musicians - just please, not the accordionists. Thank you.
Silent streets (as much as normal for Paris at 8:30, at least), well after the Fête de la musique was supposed to have begun. This is the annual national music celebration (closest approximation of the meaning), where musicians professional and amateur alike take to the streets and play. Last year, it was impossible to go anywhere after 6:00 and not hear music. Unfortunately, this being a Monday combined with an important French football match, no one seemed to be ready to go out. So we quickly transitioned to...
Buzzing conversation, clinking of silverware on plates and of wine glasses. A nice dinner in a pleasant bistro near the canal Saint Martin. Unfortunately, this was all my friend Valerie and I had to occupy us for one hour between dinner and dessert. The sound of operating order equipment apparently had been lacking, and everything got backed up. The figs in cream sauce - when they did eventually arrive - were delicious.
Grinding guitars, blaring trumpets, smooth keyboards - you name it, it was being played. The 2004 Paris edition of the Fête de la musique finally got its groove on sometime after Valerie and I had left the restaurant at 10:30. Later, Heather joined us to the sounds of bad glam rock covers at Bastille. (Bad covers, bad glam rock - you choose the semantic permutation that you prefer.) We wandered the streets, enjoyed the pastiche formed by musicians playing their hearts out - and in the process, covered a good swath running from the 19th through the 11th, 10th, 4th, and 1st arrondissements.
Honking horns and drunken reveling from French football supporters. Les Bleus won 3-1 against Switzerland, granting them passage to the quarter-finals of the Euro 2004.
These were the sounds I heard today, 21 June, the longest day of the year. Now, it's the whir of my laptop's fans. Soon my day will end as it began, in silence.