Spam is good for your health. Those were the days when all that spam meant was that sausagey-ham encased in a blue square tin can with the big friendly yellow letters forming the word 'SPAM' on its front. Otherwise, spam can be wholeheartedly said to be anything but good for your health. I wouldn't be surprised if Cornell or Columbia University came up with a survey that said 40% of all Americans aged 9 to 99 suffer extreme anger/stress/exasperation when confronted with spam. There's something about spam that is utterly irksome. Perhaps its the fact that its hard to believe that anyone could think of making a business by hoping that one person would exclaim 'Oh goody! Viagra pills! Just what I need!' out every thousand. Obviously no thought is given to the nine hundred and ninety nine other annoyed people who wouldn't even want to be paid reading such junk. Perhaps its also the sheer stupidity of it all. They may think an email from 'Kelly Jane' would force me to open the letter if I happened to know a Kelly Jane. Of course they (the spammers) fail to realise that Kelly Jane, being the punk rockeuse and atheist she is, would shudder and convulse violently at the thought of putting 'Hi' into the subject line of the email. There's also the spam-made-to-look-like-an-email from 'Chris', and yet again the spammers fail to put to thought that the only Chris that I know I meet at school, and hence it would be entirely illogical to write 'Its been a long time' for a subject.

I therefore come to a premature conclusion that all spammers are sadistic. The thought of just one click sending a hundred thousand emails containing completely and utterly useless junk and thus recieving, as profit, several meagre dollars, is absurd. Luckily in the old days, spam only existed as junk (snail) mail, the ones elaborately envelopped with cheap enticements (as 'You've just won two day, all-expenses-paid trip to Morocco! see fine print') that would stuff your mailbox like a terrier trying to fit through a four-inch hole. At least you have to give the junk-mailers then the credit of trying (and they paid for postage). Now all you get is 'Buy pills cheap $24.99 oppafuougewrgfcz Cheap Cheap buy now click' sent to you from dpsfdg@sgpofd.ru. Undoubtedly spam only flourishes because its a cheap means to advertise, but it certainly does injustice to the advertising world. After all, advertising is about luring a customer away from a competitor by screaming 'Mine Mine MINE!' for 24 hours straight (well not really). Its most obviously not about deception and sheer annoyance.

Believe me, some of the best parts of watching television (if and when I have the time to do so) is to see the ads. Its effect is limited to going to the shopping mall, seeing 'Acme Brand spaghetti', recognising it from a TV ad, and buying the cheaper one right next to it. I'm perhaps what they call an 'advertiser's nightmare'. (They may retort that subconciously the pink bunny with drums will force me to buy Energizer batteries, but I'll ferverently disagree, despite the stacks of (Energizer) batteries right before me.) I won't go into the details of each hilarious ad I've seen (and remembered over the years) but its kudos to them for coming up with original ideas (Wazzzzaaaaah, otherwise known as Budweiser, otherwise known as the three green frogs).
Thus I refuse to accept spam as any sort of means of advertisement, for advertisement shames itself were it to include it into such a category. Spam is no more than the bags of litter that are clawed by crows each and every morning. I could only forsee such business declining in the years to come as spam measures become more stringent and those spammers realise that it isn't worthwhile after all to go after those few ignorant middle aged men who think the advert for Viagra is precisely what they need. The only enjoyment I can get from spammers is just hoping they too get spam in their inbox. Ironies of ironies, hunter gets hunted, I'd say.

Post your comments Written on Thursday, July 29 at 5:57 PM

Who, in their right frame of mind, would look at the word colonel and read it as a piece of unpopped popcorn? (And yes, those hard yellow pebbles that collect at the bottom of your microwaved popcorn are kernels, and not the person with brass buttons and tin medals. They are also not fit to be thrown out the window, in either instance, and besides, its a physical hazard for pigeons, I'd say). In any case, it was either some floppy tongued Texan who came up with the pronounciation, or it was meant as a charade (as both are tough?). Another thing: try spelling sergeant. Luckily its done for you here, but I bet there's tons of Foogle searches that go by sargeant and sargent and seargeant. (Foogle, for the non-Googlist, its the Fruitless Foolish Google search).


What this in the most remote of sense relates to is the book "The Remains of the Day", by Kazuo Ishiguro, which I am reading right now and hope to finish soon enough. For those avid readers of this blog, you'd realise that I have already written a brief review on the movie that was modelled after this story, which I saw earlier this year. Happens that, for once in a gargantuan life time, the movie is better than the story. Kazuo Ishiguro has an  admittedly peculiar style of writing, and although fit for this very novel, is somewhat unappreciated in his other books, such as When We Were Orphans and A Pale View of Hills. The movie was well done in that aspect, for it preserved the very English noblesse-oblige (as well as the complete story-line, which is relatively hard to come by), and no doubt Anthony Hopkins did a splendid job acting the role of Mr. Stevens, ageing butler at Darlington Hall on a cross-country trip of nostalgia and mixed feelings. I keep seeing Hopkins in the novel, and perhaps that destroys the imaginative part of the book, but then again I can't make myself see anyone else but him in the very role. The language of Mr. Stevens is refined (albeit repetitive at times), conversational yet formal, relaxed and uneasy at the same time. A mention of the word 'Colonel' brought my previous comments to mind. A book review will be out as soon as I come back from my long vacation, although I'll certainly have a lot of homework-catching-up to do in the mean time. (ie: Theory of Knowlede essay (oh no), climate change field trip answers (I hardly remember what I saw), English comparison essay (slaps palm on forehead) and Chemistry  lab reports (du-du-du-daaah: for further sound effects consult Beethoven's 5th sympthony 'Fate', rather daunting a title eh?)

Post your comments Written on Wednesday, July 28 at 5:14 PM

There's nothing more paradoxical than to be so close to an international event and decide instead to watch it on the television. Obviously there was no way anyone could beat ole Lance Armstrong in the Tour de France, but it was fun watching how things went on the telly when in reality the race was going a mere mile from home.

A thought's been tugging at my brain cells for some time now. How (substitute adjective instead of cool) would it be to have a place in the middle of the Arctic, right between some icebergs, where a single shack would stand, by the address of "Problems,  Arctic Sea". Every letter sent to Problems would be routed to this lone brown uninhabited shack. People with all sorts of problems, anger management failures, stressing events, cataclysmic disasters, or such would write down a letter describing it, put it into a envelope, add a postage stamp or two, and stuff it down a post box. A helicopter (or a few dozen, depending on input) would fly by Problems, Arctic Sea every week, and drop the sacks of letters down near the shack. The shack would serve little purpose except for the few scientific researchers who might be interested in actually reading some of the letters. A international government fund would pay for the neccessary fees, which of course would be gladly supplied because of the instantaneous decrease in suicide rates and random rampages of anger. (Hopefully) Obviously email would not do, for it wouldn't work and would immediately flood any server actually designed for the very purpose. Plus, don't most people nowadays need to sit down at a desk and actually write a letter or two?

Post your comments Written on Sunday, July 25 at 6:18 PM

Argh:

Dear Mr ~

Thank you for sending us the details of your recent record proposal for 'The quickest travel time for all Metro stations'. We are  afraid to say that we are unable to accept this as a Guinness World Record.Unfortunately it is simply not physically possible for us to list separate records for travelling every metro railway system in the world, since there are literally hundreds. For this reason we are only able to consider such records for London and New York, which are the world's largest metro rail networks. We appreciate that this may be disappointing to you. We are always keen to hear from people who wish to set a Guinness World Record.  If you should need any advice regarding record breaking in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us, quoting the above membership number. Once again thank you for your interest in Guinness World Records.

Yours sincerely, Marco Frigatti
Records Research Services

How stupid. If the world were to consist of Frigatti's I bet we'd all be very disappointed. Updated: Never to be outdone, I quickly sent the follwing reply:

Hello Mr. Frigatti

I thank you for your relatively rapid reply to my claim. I understand how your policy is in terms of getting the most remarkable and interesting claims, as there are 'literally hundreds' of similar possiblities it would be impossible to verify and publish all of them. However I do want to point out that the Paris Metro network is truly extensive, second only to that of the New York subway in number, with 368 stations. London, on the other hand, has far fewer stations, with 270. Just because the challenge of visiting all the subway stations may not take as long to complete as in London or New York does not necessarily mean it would be easier or by any means less significant to do so. Indeed this challenge is not a question of how significant the Metro network is, but rather the challege of being able to visit all the stations in the least amount of time. Wouldn't more stations qualify it as apt for such a challenge?

It is claimed that 'we are only able to consider such records for London and New York, which are the world's largest metro rail networks'. Please note that this is only in length, and not in number of stations, nor in many other aspects that are largely ignored.

I strongly urge a serious reconsideration of such a claim, for it would do injustice to the Paris subway system, which clearly deserves to be among the 'world's largest metro rail networks'.

Consider that:
The Paris Metro carried an average of 1.2 billion passengers in 2003, largely surpassing the 886 million carried by the London Tube, not distant from the 1.3 billion carried by New York subway;
Paris opened its first functional Metro train service on July 19, 1900, while New York did so only on October 27, 1904;
Paris, as iterated earlier, is only second to New York in terms of the largest amount of stations in its underground network.


Yours truly, Rio ~



Post your comments Written on Thursday, July 22 at 7:00 PM

14 hours 54 minutes and 18 seconds to travel 369 stations! I could definitely trim that down because of the number 6 line, and a few tweaks that I could perfect. It was quite physically demanding, but worth the challenge nonetheless. Well here are the highlights of the day:

05:30:12 : Number 2 line departs Porte Dauphine station with me on it, as well as a big bottle of water, several sandwhiches and a book. (With my log book always in hand)

05:52:46 : The number 6 line stops at Raspail, so I get off, transfer to the number 4 line, then onto a bus, and waste in the process about 10 minutes, but everything else is smooth.

06:32:36 : I lose my pencap on the platform but am too hurried to get it.

07:46:51 : At La Courneuve terminal (number 7 line) I find out that you have to get out and then get back in (hence paying for another ticket) to get to the opposite line. Miss train in the process.

08:03:06 : I'm on the 7bis line, my first ride on the line, and the train reminds me of the 1980s or a Star Trek scene with the pink and grey seats and the sharpish edges. Clearly the train is made to look modern, but isn't. My first encouter with a beggar.

09:06:15 : "For time adjustment reasons we will be waiting at this station for a bit more" at Richard Lenoir (line 5). Happens once again at Bastille and Gare d'Austerlitz

09:15:05 : First encouter with accordionist. He seems very bored doing it.

09:28:58 : Arrive at Bercy to ride the number 14 line. The line is ultra modern because it hasn't a driver, and all the stations are announced by an automatic system. The platform is equipped with a set of doors that open along with the doors on the train, as a measure of security, I guess. It's formidable in its noise output, though.

11:27:50 : Had to beat a crowd at the Nation station (and I got a bit lost, which always isn't good), so I missed the 9 line train by mere seconds.

12:35:45 : At Pont de Sevres (terminal) I find out that I have to get out and back in again, so instead of buying another ticket I decide to jump the turnstiles. I end up looking like a austrich trying to fly, but manage notheless.

14:01:15 : At Porte d'Orleans I find out the same thing again, and I have to line up at the ticket booth for 8 minutes until the (fill in with adjective) RATP lady stops talking to the people who try to cut the line. By this time I'm fuming, but somehow I get the tickets and hop on the line back 11 minutes later.

14:42:55 : I run like a madman at Montparnasse Bienvenue. Theres four floor-escalators that everyone rides to get past a distance of about 200 meters, but I race past them to get the 13 line, which I do with barely few seconds to spare. I get up a set of stairs, run 200 meters, down another set of stairs, up again, up again, and up again, and hop on the train, all within a minute and 22 seconds! (I'm sweating waterfalls on the train I can hardly see)

15:39:49 : A report of a sick passenger forces everyone off the 8 train to wait for the next one at Concorde. I give up waiting after a minute to alter my plans to take the 12 line up to Madeleine (where I was supposed to get off had the 8 train continued normally.. the next station!) and back down again. I leave Concorde 8 minutes late.

16:33:32 : As un-luck would have it, Porte de Clignancourt is also a station that forces you to get out to take the opposite line. I realise the virtues of buying a one day pass. =)

16:37:37 : Miss the 12 line by seconds. I guess tensions are running a bit here, as I make it clear to everyone on the platform of my dissatisfaction. hehe.

17:02:03 : Saint Lazare- I decide to alter plans again to take the 13 line to Gabriel Peri instead of Saint-Denis Universite, because the train arrived first.

17:17:19 : At Gabriet Peri I hurry up a crowded escalator and back down again on the other side of the station. The doors are about to close, so I practically run down the stairs, but almost slip towards the bottom, momentarily scaring the other people on the stairs. My shoe loses 3 mm of rubber sole, as I'm almost sliding down the stairs. I get on the train, much to my happiness.

18:04:58 : I almost take the 3 line to the wrong direction at Saint Lazare. I get lost at the station and find out that
the right line is on the second floor. Apparently the people at RATP don't take into consideration the fact that people might want to get off line 3 in one direction, then want to get on the same line to the opposite direction. My notebook page for that station is emblazoned with SECOND FLOOR is large angry letters, as I miss the train by sheer stupidity.

19:43:28 : Ledru Rollin- Sick passenger at Strasbourg Saint Denis (which is way back in terms of station stops) upsets entire train timetable schedule and where normally a stop at a station is about 20 seconds, it takes 3 minutes to for the train to leave station.

20:04:42 : Happy hearted Chinaman starts singing to himself some Chinese song. Peculiar.

20:06:46 : Now this is the worst part. The train stops at Maisons Alfort Les Juillots because it only goes so far, and the driver says to wait for the next train, which will bring me to my last stop. It doesn't come for another 12 minutes. Meanwhile an argument breaks out on the station platform, something to do with the stationmaster, racism, and psychiatrists. Most hilarious is that everyone waiting on the platform (100 or so people) is watching the scene.
20:24:30 : I arrive at Creteil Prefecture!

Surprisingly two people actually did inquire about my peculiar behaviour (including taking note of the arrival and departure times of each and every station, as well as getting off at a terminal and getting on the same train back). Perhaps a never-to-be-acknowledged-shoutout would do some good to them:

To the two American fellas with four bulging suitcases going to Italy, hello. And no, this isn't a college project.

To the girl/lady at Creteil Prefecture (who coincidentally looks so much like someone at my school, and no, Mackie, not Gigja), who noticed I was taking the same line back, hello and nice to meet you. I did tell her about the whole trip thing, and while there was space for more conversation I was too grimy to even consider it.

A few adages I came up with during the moments on the trip that I wasn't writing anything in my log book:

"Never has arriving at a platform when a train has just reached it brought more joy, never has arriving when a train has just left it brought such angst"
"Whenever someone has a newspaper to read there's always someone trying to read over their shoulders" (particularly applicable on crowded trains)

Post your comments Written on Tuesday, July 20 at 8:17 PM

Tommorow's the big day! (Well not exactly) I'll be departing for Porte Dauphine station at 5.30 in the morning, and my travel plans will take me through all the stations (even the closed ones). This is because the closed stations will reopen by the time I do the actual hopefully-record-breaking attempt once Guinness contacts me with the details on doing it 'right'. Hence there will be no photos taken, as well as no formal signatures signed this time. I'll be just doing it to make sure that everything works well, what part of the train it would be best to get off at, etc. I'll also be running/walking/taking the bus on one section of the track (the closed section), which I'll hopefully be sailing through on a renovated line in September.  In any case, I've got to quit the jibber because I'm not exactly used to waking up at 5 in the morning. I'll be carrying along a jug of water (not quite literally) and tons of food, for I lack a 'support team'. Hopefully I'll be carrying along your prayers on the way too. =) Updates on how it went probably Wednesday, for I don't think I'll be home until dark. Ciao people!

Post your comments Written on Sunday, July 18 at 10:11 PM

I wouldn't disagree that it would sound completely ludicrous if someone said fireworks and clapping were somehow connected with each other, and I guess it would be wise for an explanation to be told. Firstly, the story:

(I feel like Paul Harvey in "The Rest of the Story". Anecdote: I listened to Eagle 810, an Armed Forces Network (AFN-US Army) base radio while I was in Tokyo, and every day there'd be Paul Harvey funneled through the airwaves from the States into my radio, talking about the most remote stories about the famous and the not-so-famous. You'd hear about some humble soul doing shoe-shining on the corner of 5th avenue, and when you'd hear "and now... you know... the rest of the story", you'd finally realise that it was Elvis when he was 18 or something. But that's a bit besides the point now.)

Anyhow, yesterday I went to see the fireworks down near Trocadero for the 14 Juillet fanfare at 10:30. There was (yet again) a lot of people, many of them sitting down right in the middle of the street so that they'd get a good view of the sky. The display was great, and everytime a grand one flew up into the sky and spread a colourful combination of fire and "kabooms", people would "ooh" and "aah". Every so often when the fireworks died down a bit people would start clapping. Undoubtedly the best fireworks were the ones that were the biggest, although the most colourful ones didn't get an applause, but rather the ones that looked like God had let a bucket full of glitter tumble from the skies.

Clapping should become an art. It's wholly unappreciated as it is, even though its our most used (and quite frankly, our only) medium for expressing our appreciation for something, besides whistleing, which isn't exactly upper class. And come to think of it, it reveals a lot about our personality too. After all, how many of us could truthfully claim that you've been always the first to clap? Clap at the right time and you've got a whole crowd agreeing with you. Clap at the wrong time and you'd feel like a lonely fool. (And I don't mean in the classical music concert: there, you have a time to clap and a time not to) The process repeated itself over the half an hour I was there watching the fireworks, and it was quite cool to see. (No, I don't want to become a shrink) Anyways, that was an unique thought that drifted through my brain... should it ever occur to you.

As an addendum, I realised that there are four types of bloggers out there (in my humble opinion): the thinkers, the writers, the observers, and the reporters. I guess I'm more of the observer. Obviously there are some people that are all of the four, but most people are inclined to be just one of them. The difference between a reporter and an observer would be that the reporter would write "I did this and I saw that and I felt so", whereas the observer would add a bit of the everyday that's usually not seen (somewhat paradoxically).

Post your comments Written on Thursday, July 15 at 8:35 PM

I guess no one likes movie reviews eh? =). Anyways, for most of you it must've been an ordinary day today but for the French (and the tourists, and the folks at the Google doodle center, the guys who draw the Google logo differently on national holidays) it was le 14 Juillet, "Bastille Day", when peasants stormed the notorious royal fortress at Bastille on July 14, 1789, as a revolt against the Ancien Régime. (Note none of that came out my mind)

Champs Elysées was incredibly crowded. Either the French government airlifted every foreign tourist around France and flew them into Paris, or all the French people came back from their islands just to celebrate, of which I do not know, but what I do know is that yesterday the streets were deserted, and today they weren't. I could hardly catch a glimpse of the army trucks and vehicles that moved down the Champs, but it was nontheless a nice occasion to see the parade and all. The air-force jets that flew over Paris flew really low so that too was exhilarating, and they released plumes of smoke coloured red white and blue, a spectacular sight. In the afternoon I also got a chance to see some of the parachutists swirling down from the skies to the grassy area at the Invalides, although that sighting was merely a stroke of luck. Near the Champs de Mars close to the Eiffel Tower they were blasting Norah Jones through giant speakers.

Quite a day. (Not to mention the fireworks later this evening) Maybe next time I'll be able to get better pictures.. the French police are amazingly apt at designing confusing barrier schemes, so I could hardly squeeze through the crowd. I got a good shot at the jets, though.

Post your comments Written on Wednesday, July 14 at 4:43 PM

Movie Review for Walking Tall (2004)

Directed by: Kevin Bray
Starring: The Rock, Neal McDonough, Johnny Knoxville, John Beasley, Ashley Scott
Rated: PG-13
Runs 87 min

Saw Walking Tall yesterday, despite the fact that it doesn't come out in Paris until the 23rd. ;) There was no doubt that The Rock was Hulk in miniature, and the movie was centered around it, which was sort of typical. The good thing about the movie was that it was based on a true story (that of Sheriff Buford Pusser), but everything that goes through the Hollywood filter undoubtedly gets skewed. The Rock was quite good in his acts as Chris Vaughn, the sergeant back from military service who comes home to find that his home isn't home anymore, overtaken by his former childhood friend Jay (Neal McDonough), who's turned the town into a haven for criminal acts. Even the sheriff is on the bribe, refusing to take law to Chris's side as he tries to set things straight. After one brawl at the infamous casino (that Jay owns) leaves him on the road left for dead, Chris takes matters into his own hands. Things get worse when Pete, Chris's nephew, gets hurt doing drugs, drugs that Chris finds out to be funneled to the kids in the neighborhood by the security staff at the casino. His anger released on the casino members (6 men toppled over like bowling pins by the Rock, hows that for action eh?), he finds himself on trial but is eventually acquitted and in a matter of movie frames becomes elected Sheriff. Together with his Jack Nicholson lookalike pal Ray (Johnny Knoxville), they set things back as they were in the old days. Typical that the Rock should use a piece of cedar for his choice of weapon, rather than a gun. Take note also of several phrases that are repeated by different people that give somewhat an ironic nature to the movie: "This changes our relationship a bit, huh", "This is my town" and "That's how it starts.. see next thing you know you'll be accepting bribes, setting speed traps all over town, cutting up trucks, you know how you are..."
The most hilarious part was perhaps when Ray and Chris tear up (don't know who he is) s brand new truck on a hunch. (another of the shadowy drug-wielding characters). Click here to see a pic of Jay and his chainsaw on the first lamp of the truck. Click here to see Jay falling on the hood of the car while tearing it to pieces. (I wonder how much the movie crew spent on the truck just so that they could tear it apart?)

As for the authenticity of the story, Kitsap County, Washington (as noted on Sheriff Vaughns' truck) is not where the original Sheriff was (he was in McNairy County, Tennessee), so there goes a bit of the "Based on a true story". Oh, and to anyone who's seen the movie, could you tell me who the person indicated by the arrow in this picture is? Pete? or just a movie crew caught in the film? 3 out of 5 stars. Some areas unexplained, and the story is a bit too good to be true. (The transition from being the accused to sheriff was one of the too good parts).

Post your comments Written on Sunday, July 11 at 7:16 PM

Okay, okay, enough about the underground. I'm losing my audience here! =). Anyways, I've made (yet another) website dedicated this time to the Paris Metro challenge. Click here for the site. To Daniel, who asked if I would be taking the RER lines (you did some research eh? or were you here before), and I've addressed that issue under "Rules" on the site. Care to take a look? Otherwise my life has been relatively mundane. I'm still selling Gmail invites, although most of them are going to expire soon. (Which is why I've been forced to lower prices) Enough of that too, I guess.

Post your comments Written on Saturday, July 10 at 6:08 PM

My final plan takes a bit longer now that parts of the 6 line is out of service: in an ideal situation (no delays), I'd leave Porte Dauphine station at 5:30 in the morning and arrive not at Saint Lazare but at Republique at 22:13. That'll be 16 hours and 43 minutes on the train. I wont be surprised if I arrive at 23:00 though. I called RATP today (the people who own the subway) and asked if anyone had tried the feat before. It went sorta like this:

voice-machine: "Merci d'appler le service client du RATP. Si vous voulez parler a un agent, veuillez attendre. Sinon, veuillez appuyer sur etoile sur votre clavier telephonique"
*few moments pass*
voice-machine: "Henri va vous repondre"
me: "Bonjour, je voulais juste savoir si il y avait quelqu'un qui a deja tenté de parcourir toutes les stations du métro en moins temps possible.."
Henri: "eu.. (mumbles/repeats what I said) "...si il y avait quelqu'un qui a deja tente de parcourir toutes les stations du métro en moins temps possible.. ?!#? j'sais pas..."
me: "eu... bon.. merci"
Henri: *chuckles* "Je vous en prie.." (in smaller voice) "Bonne chance"

translated:
voice-machine: "Welcome to RATP customer service. If you'd like to reach personel to talk to, please hold on. Otherwise please press star on your telephone"
*few moments pass*
voice-machine: "Henri will answer your call" (as if I care who answers)
me: "Hello, I just wanted to know if there was anyone who had already tried visiting all the stations on the Metro in the least time possible..."
Henri: "um.." (mumbles/repeats what I said) "...if there was anyone who had already tried visiting all the stations on the Metro in the least time possible.... ?!#? dunno..."
me: "well... thanks"
Henri: *chuckles* "Sure.." (in smaller voice) "Good luck"

I guess that means no, there hasn't been anyone who would try such a thing. Funny. A few more stats:
I'll be going from terminal to terminal on 3 lines. One will take 52 minutes, one 9 minutes, the other 4 minutes.
There's only one line that I won't have to repeat any stops with, and it's got only four stations from terminal to terminal. Yup, it takes 4 minutes.
I'll be transferring the most at Montparnasse Bienvenue: I'll be doing it 3 times.
I'll be buying 1 ticket only to visit all 354 stations (211 km) (theres 368 altogether, not 369.)
That'll cost E1.40
If I did that by taxi, it'd cost E132.82
It'll cost RATP more than E1.40 to finance my ride in electricity bills. (I think)
I'll be travelling under the Seine river 13 times.
The 8 line is the worst. I have to head to the terminal from Bastille (16 stops), and double back on the same track, and continue for another 20 stops.
I'll be doing that from 9 to 10 pm.

Cheerio!

Post your comments Written on Friday, July 9 at 6:19 PM

I took a test run of my Metro Challenge today, checking out stations and seeing where it would be best to get off to beat the crowd.. etc, only to find out that 6 stations between Raspail and Place d'Italie on the 6 line are closed for renovation of the viaduct (the overground rail part), with a bus to transfer people from where one end of the rail ends and the next. Obviously this means that I have to trash my plan of getting around the 357 stations. (There are 369 according to my count, minus 6 stations closed for renovation, and the 6 I mentioned on the repair of the viaduct). Originally the plan had been for me to finish within 16 hours... I'm hoping I can get close to that time with a bit of a rearrangement in plans. Quite a disappointment indeed. Anyways, one thing's for sure: I'm starting at Porte Dauphine at 5.30 and finishing at Saint-Lazare sometime at night.

Post your comments Written on Thursday, July 8 at 8:43 PM

Movie Review for Shrek 2

Directed by: Andrew Adamson, Kelly Asbury
With voices of: Mike Myers (Shrek), Eddie Murphy (Donkey), Cameron Diaz (Princess Fiona),
Julie Andrews (Queen), Antonio Banderas (Puss)

Saw Shrek 2 today, the sequel that brings a new twist to the "happily ever after" one had in mind after the first movie. Well actually not today. During yesterday and today, because I have it in my computer. How it got there is another matter. Anyhow, I liked the sequel (perhaps the only sequel I've ever seen, having seen the first movie) as much as I did the first movie, because it brought surprises at every turn. It was a well mastered movie, with little details here and there that made viewing it much more fun that it would have been without. (Like the people running from one Starbucks to another when Mongo destroys their namesake coffee cup. I bet you didn't see that). The Hollywood allusion was also clever. My favourite character undoubtedly is Puss, whose respiratory problems made it hilarious to follow. I've even put up a photo album page for the little character, whose deceptively cute attire sometimes overshadows a more menacing character. It was a great addition to the film. For those adults who might find it hard to enter a cinema when this movie is on, shame on you. Bring out the child in you and follow this fairy tale story that tells us all some thing we ought to know. 4 stars out of 5. Lacked finesse in some parts of the movie, with still other unexplained. Liked it very much nontheless.

Post your comments Written on at 8:33 PM

Writing up the what I've named the Paris Chronicles on the Metro (see yesterday's and the entry of the day before), I visited the all too famous Annie Mole's blog on the London Underground to see if she'd find it interesting as well, being a avid fan of the subway. I stumbled on the way across Geofftech.co.uk, a blog/site concerning Geoff's recent attempts to break the Guiness World record of taking the shortest time visiting all 275 Tube stations in London (read more here). Apparently he succeeded, and all he's waiting is for confirmation from the blokes at Guiness.

This kinda sparked a light bulb in this dim-lit brain of mine, and I thought, why not try it myself here in Paris? So I'm currently in the process of planning my way through the 368 stations on the 14 lines here, starting sometime at 5 am and hoping to finish before 1am. (I think that's how many stations there are, according to this site. Kinda wierd, but would be cool to set myself a name as the first guy to do it. 20 hours should do it, eh? Your comments heartily welcomed.

Post your comments Written on Tuesday, July 6 at 10:48 PM

A virtual (and somewhat crazed) tour of the Paris underground continued

The doors close with a monotone beep, and the train lurches forward. There aren't any lights in the tunnel, but the train is brightly lit with fluorescent light so it really doesn't matter. However, if you take the 7 train (pink), somewhere near Pont Marie and Sully Morland there's a chance that the train lights dim and even at times turn off. The next stop is Richelieu Drouot, nowhere in particular. There's no announcement, however, so people have to keep an eye out for the tiled blue signs that declare what station one is currently at. Most stations have tiled walls: it keeps graffiti and posters off the walls.

Some stations are immediately recognisable by their interior decoration. Concorde station has walls decorated with lettered tiles; Franklin D. Roosevelt station has a low ceiling and metallic square tiles; Palais Royal Musée de Louvre has glass encased museum exhibits standing on the platform, etcetera.

Next stop, Strasbourg Saint-Denis. According to the miniature subway map there's two stations until Strasbourg Saint-Denis, but they're under renovation, so the train just sidles past the darkened stations while anxious passengers wonder how to walk back. A half a dozen more stations are labelled as closed for renovation, but luckily the subway system in Paris is almost redundant when it comes to short distances: from one station, you can peer to either direction and in some cases see the next station by the lights. Thus, you can safely assume that from any location in urban Paris, a Métro station is no more than a five minute walk away.

Getting off at Strasbourg Saint-Denis would be a nice idea if you were looking for the more down to earth and messier part of Paris. Of course it's also notorious for its prostitutes, but then again, everyone can't help but suffer a culture shock when passing through the streets of Paris. The crowded cafes and the restaurants are often found here.

From Strasbourg Saint-Denis you change onto the 4 (violet) line. If you appreciate art, then you'd probably head north towards Porte de Clignancourt, so that you can get off at Barbes Rochechouart (it's not me who named them) to go up Montmartre, the famous hill where artists from around the world made their dwelling. There are countless art galleries here, such as one of Salvador Dali, and on Sundays you can browse through the market where amateurs sell their paintings of the Eiffel Tower and ask you if you want a charcoal portrait done for 10 euros. (They're awfully well done) Or you can enjoy a crepe for 3 euros from one of the open-air stands.

However, most tourists might appreciate heading south towards Porte d'Orleans instead, to get off at Cité. You'll find yourself getting out the Métro station to see the Notre-Dame cathedral, made notorious by Victor Hugo's book, "The Hunchback of Notre-Dame". Cité itself is a short version of Ile de la Cité, or "Island of the City", which is literally what the strip of land sandwiched between the banks of the Seine is called. Notre-Dame happens to be located on this small island.

If you've already visited the Notre-Dame before, then stop at Les Halles, where those who want to do some good shopping could go. It's an underground shopping mall, in its bluntest description. The younger people might prefer visiting Centre Pompidou, a modern youth-oriented structure with some equally modern exhibits, located five minutes by foot from Les Halles. The interesting part of the building is that everything that's usually kept inside and hidden (like the ventilation pipes) is located outside, and they're all painted in bright colours, so it's interesting going around the block and taking a few pictures.

After having visited any of the three things mentioned above, just hop back on the 4 line and head to Châtelet, the infamous station. Forgive my mistake of having mentioned that you wouldn't need to pass through Châtelet. I was wrong. (Note, a "carnet" (pack of ten tickets) is suggested, because a ticket cannot be reused once you've left the Métro)

A few observations regarding the ticket given to you once you've purchased them. It's purple, with "Ticket", a large lowercase "t" and a few logos printed in black ink on the front, and a brown magnetic strip on the reverse. Once you've inserted the ticket through the machine in the turnstile, it prints something completely illegible with dark purple ink on it, but at least it serves as an indication that the ticket is used. Going out of the station doesn't require you to take the ticket out again, but it's good to keep the ticket in case there's an inspector standing at the door to the stairs leading outside. If you don't have a ticket, a fine of about 100 euros is implemented on place with no further charges. If you're a minor, your parents are called. There's a multitude of rules plasted on the walls of the platform, but most people don't care, because if they see an inspector they can just hop on another train and get off at another station.

At Châtelet, take the 1 (yellow) line towards La Défense. You'll be riding the more modern "swishswish" trains with automatic doors. Getting to the platform won't be a problem for most people, but be prepared to break a few sweat beads during the 10 minutes it'll take you to get to the platform. It's certainly good exercise with all those stairs.

Once again there's a stop for each of the three types of tourists: the shopper, the artist, and the conventional tourist. The artist should get off at Palais Royal Musée du Louvre to visit the Louvre museum. Going there on the first Sunday of the month will get you in free, but along with a crowded group and a few hundred camera-frenzy Japanese tourists as well. At least if you can push hard enough you'll be able to jostle your way through to get a glimpse at the Mona Lisa, although not without a few digital cameras (and cellphones now) bumping into your face. (Note: don't take a picture of the Mona Lisa with flash, because it's encased in glass and all you'll get is a photo with a bright spot and half a dozen reflections of tourists). Going inside the museum is a trick in itself. The first time I went I didn't know where to go until I found out the main entrance was the giant glass pyramid in the middle of the castle-like structure of the museum. That's really famous too, and once you're in you head down the stairs into several atriums, each heading to different sections of the museum.

The shopper will have to get off at Champs Elysées Clemenceau, for far obvious reasons. Whether it be the vinyl handbags of Louis Vuitton or the jewels of Cartier, Hérmes or the shoes of Nike, you'll be sure to empty your wallets on this road. There's also a Virgin Megastore for your musical needs, although it'd be wiser to get off a few stops ahead if you don't want to walk the half a mile up the Champs. Want to see a movie? You have no less than four movie centres on the right hand side of the road (right when you're looking towards the Arc de Triomphe), and each centre has at least four different movies playing, so you'll be sure to have a wide selection of movies to choose from. Tickets are generally 25% more expensive than most areas, and are about 10 euros.

The modern tourist will get off at Charles de Gaulle Étoile to climb up the Arc de Triomphe, which was renovated relatively recently. The construction crews have taken off the disturbing scaffolding, so taking a picture of the Arc will look perfect. Taking a picture from the Arc should be phenomenal as well, and people younger than 18 get in free. (I think)

Wherever you are, just hop back onto the 1 line and get to Charles de Gaulle Étoile. (It's called Étoile because from the Arc de Triomphe, the biggest main streets of Paris spread out like a star (étoile in french) At Charles de Gaulle Étoile, take the 6 (bright green) line. Since it's a terminal station, it'll take about 10 minutes for a train to arrive unless you're lucky enough to catch it while it's there. The cool thing about this line is that from Passy station to around Pasteur station (long after you'd have gotten off the train), the train actually runs over the streets of Paris, supported by metal girders that remind one of the old New York subway. It's rare to have a train run on rails that are as high as the third storey of a townhouse, and it's an great sensation, especially when it's sunny.

Get off at Bir Hakim for the Tour Eiffel. Not much needs to be said here, because Paris wouldn't be Paris without the Tour Eiffel. There's also the American Library of Paris that can be reached from the station, but unless you're a member, it costs 8 euros just to get in and 22 to borrow books. Not a worthy investment, I'd say.

Milling around the Tour Eiffel are vendors with plastic windup birds, metallic key chains of the Eiffel Tower, Zippos, and the occasional handbag. Be wary of them, because if the police is seen anywhere in the vicinity, they take off really fast. In the winter the same men sell roasted chestnuts (roasted on a used oil drum that's placed in a supermarket trolley), and once I saw them pushing the trolley with a frenzy I could hardly believe. 10 chestnuts for about 1 euro, so it's nice to warm your frozen fingers during the winter.

Having exhausted the Tour Eiffel, get back into the Métro and ride the C (yellow yet again) line towards Massy-Palaseau, Versailles-Chantiers, Dourdan, or Saint-Martin-d'Étampes. This is the RER line, the more grandiose train that resembles the oversized Amtrak. I was quite frankly surprised that a train of such size could actually be running underneath the streets of Paris, but they do. (Once outside urban Paris, the trains emerge overground, and run like any other cross-city train). There's even the double deck carriage, although it's hardly worth going up the stairs because all you'll see is the tunnel, unless you somehow miss your station for about a half an hour. Off the train at Musée d'Orsay.

The Musée d'Orsay, which I visited just the past Sunday (the first Sunday of the month, hence free, hence a long line to get in), was great, if it weren't for the crowded masses. It was once a railway station, so it adds to the grandeur of the place, with the big round clock that must have once been a reference for countless travellers from around France. Curiously there's the ground floor, the first floor, the second, and the fifth, but nothing in between. I guess it's the structure of the building. You'd love it here if you like Gaugin, Gogh, Monet, Manet, Pisarro, Matisse, Renoir, Gaudi, or Degas. There's plenty besides.

If you've done all that in a single day, you merit the world's most phenomenally fast tourist award. I guess it'd be wiser to divide it into several sections each day, unless you're willing to travel around with this itinerary without leaving the station, just satisfied that right above you lies the structure(s)/monument(s) that I've described. As any tourist guide has to do, I have to bring you back to where you started, and thus you should get back to the Musée d'Orsay subway station, walk through the passages to the Assemblée Nationale station, and hop onto the 12 line towards Porte de la Chapelle, and get off at Haussmann Saint-Lazare, where (supposedly) your hotel awaits you. It wasn't too bad was it?

Looking back, there's a lot to compare with the other underground trains I've taken. Firstly, the name: In New York you won't get anywhere by asking for the Tube-- it's the subway. In Japan it's the "Metoro" or the "Chikatetsu". In London it's the famous "Tube" or the "Underground" (correct me if I'm wrong). The Paris "Métro" is surprisingly clean and odourless, unlike its New York counterpart. It's certainly less cluttered with signs compared to Tokyo, and it's got more leg space compared to London. And everywhere you go there's a tad bit of artistic design, a uniqueness that sets every station apart from each other. True, there's the 9-foot by 9-foot advertisement spanning the wall everywhere you go, but still, it's an interesting trip every time you ride the Métro. Unless, of course, you're a posh millionaire who's afraid of being mugged in the middle of Châtelet station.

Post your comments Written on Monday, July 5 at 6:01 PM

A virtual (and somewhat crazed) tour of the Paris underground

If you want to discover Paris in a manner no other person has probably ever done, try the Métro. This is the underground network and conglomerate of steel rails and tunnels that span Paris like an unseen web. There are fourteen lines to choose from, each designated with a different colour, each heading different directions from the centre to the suburbs.

Let's say your hotel is at Haussmann Saint-Lazare, a hub for most Métro lines and a great place for shop-fanatics to shop. There's the Printemps Haussmann and the Galeries Lafayette for clothes and the like, and Citadium for sportswear. Out on the streets, it's not too hard to find the conspicuous red sign with "Métropolitaine" and a big round light above it (turned off during the day). It's drab green, and it's your gateway to the underground.

The ticket booth is occupied by the people of the RATP with expressionless figures and a bored look. Asking for a ticket sometimes comes back with a "I'm really bored and I have nothing to do and this tourist is asking for a ticket. Should I waste 4 calories to look up or should I continue to ignore him?" attitude, but it's satisfactory in most places. If it's Sunday the booth will be dark so you'll have to jump the turnstile like the four kids who did it behind you while you were purchasing the tickets. That too takes a bit of practice, because the heavy "door" beyond the turnstile can inadvertently slam into your face. Better go through with a helmet. In reality, you pass through the turnstile and then push back the "door" to squeeze through, because the "door" is meant as a deterrent for the turnstile-jumpers. I've seen business men in suits do it.

There's also another tactic by those who can't pay for a ride. They ask you if they can go through with you (provided you understand them). If you happen to mistakenly say yes, they just squeeze through the turnstile along with you. Hilarious.

Well that was a bit on the turnstile part of the Métro. On to the ride. Getting to the platform, however, is another thing. Thankfully there are notices everywhere as to where to go for the line you want, but at Concorde station some of the signs are skewed, so what was meant to be an arrow pointing forward points somewhere between left and forward. Gets a lot of people confused. Châtelet is the worst station in terms of actually getting to the train. Changing between the yellow 1 line and the pink 7 line takes at least 12 minutes. There's a floor belt to help weary passengers (like an escalator but one that brings you forward, not up), but 4 chances out of 5 are that it's broken or that the person in front of you has a suitcase that can't be moved. Once when the belt was broken a lady fainted and the paramedics had to squeeze past the stampede of people. It didn't help that the crowd was dreadfully curious, either.

Luckily today's itenerary doesn't involve changing at either station. You'll be taking the 9 line (olive green).

The platform is a normal one, but lacks the bump-tiles that are used to help the blind from falling off the platform (there's a plain white line instead). The train always comes from the left, unless you're at a terminal. If you're unlucky, there wont be music playing somewhere. The musical selection ranges from plain guitar, accordion (a common favourite), a violin, a trumpet or even a whole troupe of 5 people playing the cello, and/or a combination of the previous four. That's at the station. If you're in the train, chances are that you'll get a person singing karaoke to "Macarena" with double echo on max volume or some melodious Spanish guitar music strummed by a person with a 100 decibel voice. Donations heartily accepted. If you're really lucky, you'll step from an orchestra on the platform to a solo in the train.

The train's arrived. If you're taking the 1 line, then the train won't have carriages and will resemble a mismatched accordion, with each "carriage" connected to another without doors. There are 8 wheels per "carriage": four are a traditional train rail wheel, and the other four are rubber guards which help stabilise the train against a guard-rail. There's a swishswish sound as it enters the station. Otherwise, like today, you'll be taking a normal train (like the ones in New York or in London-- note if you're a Londoner, don't expect the tunnels to be round, and don't expect to be sitting knee-to-knee with the person across the aisle). Both types are painted a combination of white and green, the green you'd expect to see in a hospital.

Equally, don't expect the doors to open by themselves if you're not taking the 1 line. (yes, the 1 line is relatively "modern".. I think it was renovated not long ago, judging by the lack of graffiti) You'll have to take hold of a silver curved handle with a protruding knob and twist it upwards in order to open the door (accompanied by a nice "kaboom" as the doors open). The seats are brown, and close to the doors there are eight foldaway seats. If you sit down and stand up quickly, the seat will slam itself against the back of another set of seats facing the opposite direction with a conspicuously loud "kbam". A nice gray notice cautions in French, English, Italian and German to not use the foldaway seats when the train is crowded. There's also a subway map stuck to the side of the door, but it's relatively useless in a moving train, especially since it's only visible with a 12 inch magnifying glass. It'd be better to use the small folding map the size of three fingers together, given to you if you want at a ticket booth. It's so intricately folded that it's almost impossible to fold it back to the way it was, once opened. Most people don't even try.

to be continued...

Post your comments Written on Sunday, July 4 at 8:04 PM

Time flies. Literally. I just saw it cross my window, zipping by in a frenzy of gray and blue. It didn't even have time to look my way. Quite a pity indeed, because if the whole world were to vote on having 48 hour days or staying with 24, I'd be the first to vote for the former. With both hands up. Then again, if we all lived in a 48 hour day, would we want more? Curious point.

Anyhow, I met Jahan yesterday at Champs-Elysees, my good friend from 4 years ago when I was in Tokyo at St. Mary's International. He's in Singapore now, after moving out from Tokyo a year after I left. Its quite nice to catch up a bit on Time, even when the only breath that it gave up was a mere half an hour. Worth it all the same. It would be rather pointless to relate the conversation word for word, but it concerned school and life and all, and how the future lies still hazy as ever. I'm quite frankly getting worried about what I plan to become, although lately becoming a journalist has a bit of fancy with me. Truthfully, I wasn't born to become a scientist, but rather an amateur radio/wireless hobbyist. I'm bouncing up and down when it comes to radios and hams and stuff. (No, not the ham in your refridgerator my friends). I definitely want a big radio transmitter and licence one day. Maybe my Gmail sales will contribute towards them... never know.

Oh there's Time again, zipping the other way. Gotta run.

Post your comments Written on Friday, July 2 at 8:48 PM