montemarte, facades, and locating myself

Montemarte was quite the experience, I feel very lucky that we drew the card to go check it out. First impressions are of course the most potent and how could they not be when you walk out of your subway station onto a street where every, if not every other, store has a giant flashing sign that screams "SEX SEX SEX". Then some guy asked me for a light and tried to sell me cocaine, ugh gross. Keeping up my French manners I quickly muttered "Non... merci..." and we made our way down a side street.

At first, the impression of Montemarte as quite seedy (since sex and drugs and prostitutes [we saw one that might of been a man, but didn't care to get close enough to tell]) was very prevalent. But then as we wandered I noticed how touristy it was, with American couples in their early 50s wandering about, adorned with sunglasses, camera's in hand and large groups of Scottish school children wearing matching red caps so that if one wanders off to look at a risque window display or a dead pigeon or a picturesque windmill in the middle of a curving cobblestone street, they can be easily corralled.

I find this tension interesting, between the illicit soliciting and the touristy cathedrals and windmills and caricature artists and the people who are just trying to live their everyday lives. Is it all facades stacked upon one another or is the Parisian mindset that allows for this dichotomy? Or is this normal and am I projecting some deeply ingrained American, Protestant influenced (nearly inescapable no matter what your religious upbringing might be) societal "norms"?

Tonight I was discussing with some friends Parisian's love of love, especially displaying it in restaurants or cafes or le metro or on street corners or on the front of stores with giant neon signs. I find this to be another interesting take on the tension between public and private space. While the physical is to be shared, is it the emotional which is kept private?

As a side note I find it interesting how I continue to forget things like street names and official names but by looking at a street corner know where I am. Tonight I had planned to meet a friend at the Deferntmet(?) metro stop. I immediately looked to my metro map and headed off. I got there about 15 minutes later. However after my friends and I departed (after the metro had closed) I started noticing landmarks here and there which told me my proximity to the Hotel Mistral. Soon I realized that it would of been much quicker to have walked in the first place instead of prescribing to the rigmarole of the metro, taking me up, then back, transfering and sorite-ing, ici et la bas (here and there [just warming up the ole French muscle]).

Hmmmmm thats all,
Dan