Though it is by far the least glamorous part of every day, I do spend a lot of time on the metro. I teach in a suburb outside of the city. The commute is about 30 minutes, but I usually don’t mind the time as I read, or stress out about lesson plans, playing silly English games in my head before I do them with my kids. The metros are interesting places, where the cultural differences between Americans and French really show through. You shove your way in backward if necessary, as personal space does not exist. One time during a strike that eliminated about half the trains, I saw a train unable to leave due to one man’s stomach which prohibited the doors from shutting. Rather than step of, or apologize he just stared straight ahead and continued trying to shove back, while he ignored his own role in the problem.
This picture is of course a much calmer moment as my friend Emma and I waited across the tracks from each one evening.