Paris Gare
I began to be aware of my surroundings each morning when I take the train. For 3 days straight, I’ve been on the same schedule and on the same seat of the metro. On my right is always the lazy-looking guy with his baseball cap pulled down to cover his face while he sleeps. If I take the 9.19 train, I see the gorgeous couple – a guy and a girl so beautiful that I can’t help but stare and gawk at their beauty – seriously!.
No matter which stop the metro well, stops…there are always bums going in and out asking for money. There is a woman who wears baggy jeans and a long jacket…making the big speech of how she’s hungry or in need of money, asking for 1 euro, 2 euros, or a ticket restaurant. Another is a guy who passes on notes for everyone stating that he has 2 kids and any amount of money – 1 euro, 2 euros, 3 euros – will do, and of course, a ticket restaurant is always accepted.
And just when I thought that I won’t get hassled by loud voices and speeches, just when I thought that it will be a peaceful morning in the metro while reading my novel, a guy will come in and play his music. Super. I guess for some, it can be pleasant, but it’s early in the morning and this kind of music is just too much for me. After he plays for maybe 20 minutes nonstop of loud, irritating music, he would go around and collect money.
Everyday when I go down my stop, I have to walk 5 minutes before I reach the exit of the metro station. Every time, there is a homeless man and his dog sitting down beside a post with his money tray, a photo frame of him and his dog, and dog food. A few more steps away from this is a long line of escalators to reach my final, final exit. Each morning, an old guy stands beside the escalators that go up and down. He holds out his hat, which serves as his money container – while nodding to the great throng of people passing by, making eye contact to anyone. I’m beginning to think we know each other.
Lastly, each morning after I exit the station, I walk along the street beside the Galeries La Fayette. Everyday, I see a Bosnian woman asking a random passerby if he or she speaks English. One time, I said yes when asked, thinking she needed help for directions or something. Then she showed me a note saying that she’s from Bosnia and that she’s in need of money. Lately, when someone approaches me and asks me if I speak English, I tell her “Non”. I just noticed a couple of weeks back that there are several of these Bosnian women begging for money – they all dress alike, with cloths in their heads, long printed skirts, and cardigans.
Seeing these situations makes me thankful for what I have now. But honestly, I would rather help or contribute to a charity institution than give out coins to a pauper (ok, it really depends on the situation!). There are so many instances wherein I really regret offering my help to people like this.
In Manila, a beggar did not accept the 5 peso coin I gave him because he wanted like, a 20 peso bill – he gave me back the money I offered him! And then a friend of mine in Paris offered to give food to a bum but he wanted money so he can buy beer and stuff – he began to scream at her when she offered the food.
Then there are those who use their children just so they could get money. There is a woman in Makati Ave. who holds her baby while walking the avenue. As she knocks on car doors, she pinches her baby so that the baby will cry just as the person inside the car looks out and takes pity on her and give her something, anything. Then according to a friend, there’s this man in Paris who has a blind kid, and whenever he begs inside the metro, he pulls his kid by the shirt collar and shoved him in front of people’s faces to gain the people’s compassion – and get money. These kids are not objects!
This really makes me sad. These things serve as a reminder that I should not complain about what I don’t have and be contented in what I do have.
