Friday, 17 May 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris and Bucharest part 112

To be true to the title I must share my experience in Paris too.  Although the intensity of danger Miss Charity exposed Miss J in Bucharest was far graver than my case, the equation was surprisingly similar.  Women will be women.  In my case, there was two.  One was Mme. Empathy of the restaurant from Hell which I have already written about.  The other one was a woman architect, or so I thought she was.

Mr. new Landlord saw that the kitchen was in need of updating so he hired an architect.  He was pleased that she did not charge too much despite having years of experience below her belt.  He thought she could see to it that my insulation work to combat the restaurant from Hell below will be planned well too.  I shall refer to her as Mme. PRUDE who was to be a stickler to the regulations.  This may sound promising but it turned out that she would relax her standards if the risk did not concern her.  The first sign that the things were not as Mme. Prude claimed was that she had gained her long years of experience by working for her husband.  She insisted that she was his equal partner, but she did not know a single tradesmen who would work for her in Paris.  She knew some men who worked for her husbands but they were situated too far from Paris.  Mr. New Landlord and I made the mistake of believing her story.  Mr. New Landlord did not want to be seen discriminating against women and I wanted to encourage women getting more jobs.  Reverse-feminism is one form of Victim Business that derails some of us from making a balanced decision.


If a feminist happens to read my blog, she may denounce me for victim-bashing but the case of Mme. Prude taught me that reverse-feminism ought to be avoided for the sake of women.  Mme. Prude never learnt to be fully responsible for her work most likely because she had had things easy, gaining opportunities through reverse-feminism instead of her own merits.  It did not sit right with me that Mme. Prude made a constant fuss over making things prettier in utmost details while she depended heavily on the tradesmen for bigger things.  Obviously her husband had always taken care of the foundation because the electricity system she designed for the apartment later proved to be faulty.  In fact, the electrician hired by Mr. New Landlord warned her of the risk and offered to carry out a complete overhaul of the electricity.  This would have delayed the completion of the work, which was not acceptable for Mme. Prude who had landed a bigger assignment from another new client.  She told the tradesmen to add new cables to the existing old electric cables and lied to him that the landlord was fine with it.  She knew that the cables would be covered up in a way that amateurs could not see.  She also knew that the electricity voltage in Paris is much stronger than that of Japan.  Yet, she told me that everything was done to perfection.


So the day came when I plugged my new grill and opted to lift the lid and…BZZZ!  I felt an electricity shock and jumped back.  The grill had not even been turned on yet.  Mme. Prude had left me with the electricity system that constantly leaked some electricity.  She desperately blamed the electrician and disappeared without finishing the job.  Not a single recognition that she had put one life, mine, at the risk of death by electrifying.  All Mme. Prude focused on was to duck responsibility and she must think of her lucky that my Mr. New Landlord did not sue her after he fixed the problem with another electrician.  She made her clients overpay the administration fees to a various institution which in the end served only to shield her from any possible legal liability.  Besides, Mr. New Landlord knew a man suing a woman for incompetency would not reflect well on him. 

Thus, once again Mme. Prude benefited from the Reverse feminism and some unsuspecting clients will fall victims to her prudish lecture not knowing she would install a sub-standard electricity system without her husband's supervision.  After my initial rage at her subsided, I felt sorry for her that Reverse-feminism had corrupted Mme Prude's mentality.  It is sad because many genuine women with substance have made efforts to be recognized for their merits.  Yet, the cases like this Mme. Prude would spoil things for the womankind again.

However I am still alive to tell the story unlike Miss J whose course of life was distorted by Miss Charity.  Of course, Miss Charity was not the only administrator of this amateur club, but the men around her hesitated to question her risky itinerary probably from reverse-feminism.  Thus, Miss J was not saved from her horrendous end.  

To be continued.
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Tuesday, 7 May 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris and Bucharest part 111

It has been a long while since the surge of Feminism awareness, but it has not completely been realized.  Women blame this on men's guarding their privileges, but at least men are very much united on this.  Women however often care more for her own advancement than her fellow sisters collectively.  If there was one spot to take, there would be at least one woman who would be scheming against other female colleagues while male counterparts watch on, quite amused.

Miss J who met the tortuous end in Romania was attractive.  The articles about her all said that she had been very popular among young men in this University in Tokyo.  In the photos she looks indeed charming and feminine, and most of all happy.  She was from a good family and yet did not look spoiled.  Instead you could sense her sense of obligation.  Unfortunately this sense of obligation made her agree to the fatal itinerary concocted by Miss Charity, the woman who was noted to be a complete opposite to Miss J on so many levels.  There are not many photo of Miss Charity around while there are plenty of the photos of Miss J.  The fact the more people took photos of Miss J than Miss Charity, we can assume that Miss J was the popular one of the twos like the media claimed.  The verdict of the internet comments section was that Miss Charity was 'ugly and nasty looking'.  I would not judge her on her looks, but indeed I found the facial expression of Miss Charity reflective of her attitude.

How did those two women from the opposite ends meet?  There was this club that organised global part-time jobs for the students in Japan with the aim of deepening a global understanding among young people.  The problem was that this club was run by amateurs, not professional tour organisers.  Thus there she was, Miss Charity who was in charge of putting together jobs and travel itinerary for the members.  She must have known that she held the fate of Miss J in her palm.  The Romania media blamed Miss J of stupidity, but initially Miss J had requested another destination where she had some knowledge of.  However, Miss Charity suddenly changed the destination to Romania at the last moment.  Miss J hesitated, even fell ill from stress upon learning that the flight would land her at Bucharest late at night from where upon she would have to find her own transport to the North Station in the city center.  Now this North Station is the one notoriously situated close to the entry to the underworld of Romania.  Drug addicts and low lives.  If this was not enough, Miss J was to catch a night train to a countryside at midnight.  03:00 am was the time she would have reached her final destination where she was to teach Japanese to the young Romania students.  Miss J stood no chance with such an itinerary riddled with danger, courtesy of Miss Charity.

Still, it may have worked if a local person from the school had come to meet her at the airport.  But this was not to be because Miss Charity had changed the schedule too close to the date that the person who would have come was occupied elsewhere.  Miss J fearful of the dangerous prospect, started crying.  What angered the Japanese community later on was that Miss Charity remained totally unmoved by the tears.  Miss J wrote in her own twitters account that she was strongly persuaded to go.  Miss Charity would be smart enough to appeal to Miss J's sense of obligation.  The Club had gone to this much length to organize the travel and accommodations that it would be rude to reject the plan now and render the work as waste of time.  Think of the cancellation fees.  Have faith in the people of Romania...

The count down to one horrendous rape and killing had started.

To be continued.
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Tuesday, 23 April 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris and Bucharest part 110

The new chapter of this true horror series opens up with a gruesome death of one woman in Bucharest where I spent the last 10 days.  In this day of age murder cases have rendered us jaded but this one hit me hard because the victim was an Asian woman.  It shocked me even more that local press bashed the victim instead of the predator as 'the young woman should have known better'.  Her parents were furiously blamed for having raised a stupid daughter that they could not seek for an apology, let alone sue the organization that sent their daughter to the death trap.  Even though it happened in 2012, I did not know about this tragedy for 6 years

However, after sighting the crime scene in Bucharest and having gathered more information, I could see that the young woman was exercising as much precaution as possible in a Japanese way.  I shall thus refer to her as Miss J despite I've read her real name in several articles in Japanese, but the case seems to be totally forgotten in Romania.  At least my Romanian guide did not know about it but the other guide who was a Japanese knew everything about the case of Miss J who was dismembered.  Though my horror experiences with tradesmen in Paris did not end as nearly as bad as her case, I still share the similar Japanese woman thinking as Miss J that I felt utterly sick in my stomach the entire trip that I was relieved when I had finally left Romania.  The least I could do now as a sister of the same nationality is to prove that she was doomed, not a careless fool, so unfairly dubbed by the press at the time, by comparing my experience with that of Miss J, step by step.

Of all the tradesmen who ripped me off, the last one took the cake.  He dared to sexually harass me to scare me into accepting his price.  He must have caught on in the long years he spent in Japan that the Japanese women's strong sense of obligation can be exploited to manipulate us into submission.  We are raised as not to suspect of agenda when the gentleman may simply be acting kind…The old habits are hard to break and I did agree to pay him additional fees (after the quote had been agreed upon.)   Most likely his former women clients did the same because this Japanese speaking tradesman must have appeared like a God-sent in Paris where dark side creeps up on you should you choose to stay long.  He had advertised his business on the site of the Japanese association in Paris without having paid the due fees for many years.  His talk of being a friend of Japanese people was a sham.  I shall refer to him as Mr. Sincerity. 

However, the attacker of Miss J was far more sinister.  I shall refer to him as Psychopath R (because he was from Romania) who had already been suspected of murdering several local women.  And yet he was allowed to roam free because the Romanian police grudged the expense of DNA test which would have caught him before he could offend more.  My tour guide informed me that the Romanian police did fire all the squad who were responsible for failing to put away the psychopath R, but only after the brutal murder of Miss J who was barely 20 years old.

Sexual harassment or abuse may be carried out by men, but some women make use of the base instinct of man as a mean to ruin her rival woman.  Such was suspected as the motive of one woman who concocted the itinerary from Hell which put Miss J at grave risk…on purpose.   I shall refer to her as Miss Charity whose photo was uploaded shortly after the death of Miss J by many Japanese bloggers who smelt foul play.

To be continued.
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Monday, 8 April 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 109

My mother has been staying with me, thus I am late updating my blog.  I have a lot to make up to her after my poor judge of characters led to Mme. Landlord’s ruining my mother’s short stay in Paris last year.  We both thought my mother would never be strong enough to travel to France from Japan, but Mme. Landlord’s malice woke up the fighting spirit within my mother that her health actually turned for the better.  Voila, one year later she withstood the long flight back to Paris. This time she is staying longer as that dragon Mme. Landlord has left the building.  My injured wrist will never regain its former strength, the result of the abusive labor demanded by Mme. Landlord, but it has healed to the point that I can somehow live normally.  The obsessed woman may still wander back into the garbage room, I'm sure, but still the dark cloud has been lifted.  Those challenging characters may have been put on the earth to serve others in an unusual way.  

You may then ask ‘Even the restaurant from Hell, that is still acting a menace to the neighborhood by mocking every regulation possible to break, has its purpose?  Yes, and I say this not because the restaurant from Hell has finally started getting bad reviews…from the real French clients (not friends or acquaintances) accusing deception in the quality of their wine and passable food which does not merit its high price tabs.  The lesson here was not about a mere 'karma for bad guys getting what they deserve'.  I can’t speak for the other residents who are exposed to the hellish music of the restaurant, but to me the long trying experience may have been to cure one big flaw of mine--the bleeding heart.  While it sounds kind, the bleeding heart is not a virtue at all.  It is a denial of the real responsibility while trying to look a saint about it.  They often take the God as their hostage to gloss over their coward acts.  In my case, I have not yet picked a religion, thus I have never hidden behind the God, but I must say that all my life I have been sympathetic towards the minorities of any sort.  I was always a sucker for soliciting pleas and god knows how many people have taken advantages of my disposition. 

And yet I have been such a snob telling myself 'it is nobler to be a duped than becoming a deceiver'…until four years in Paris has smashed some sense through my thick skull that the acts of bleeding heart is similar to some parents who over spoil their children, a sinister kind of child abuse.  It helps the so-called underdogs turn into monsters who mock honest hard works but agile in swindling from others.  If you have been reading my true horror episodes in Paris, you would know that I have fallen prey to variety of them on so many levels.  I now regard with bitterness the young people who defend the victims against anyone.  It will be decades before she or he would realize that she/he had been used by the victim businesses. 

So for my readers who must have been puzzled as to why I did not opt for revenge against the people behind the restaurant from Hell, this was the reason.  I had been in a long round about way responsible in festering the mentality of victim business.  I was made to confront the result of my smug bleeding heart after refusing to acknowledge it for a loooong time.  This realization will save me from falling for wrong companions in the future.  Unlike some women with gold-digging heart, I have always fallen for losers with a helpless demeanor.  An angel must have watched over me because something always happened that put those problematic men far away from me just before they could sink their fangs into my life, but the guardian angel must have decided that I should not get myself into further troubles and thus taught me a big hard lesson because even women could take an advantage of me.  The recent example being Mme. Landlord, a seemingly harmless old woman.

My newly gained concept has pushed me towards solitude, but I was not allowed this because I still needed to rely on tradesmen to install phonic insulation onto my walls and the floor to combat the noise travelling up from the restaurant from Hell.  My landlord has given me the permission as long as I paid for it, but he offered through the agent to freshen up the old kitchen and bathroom too so long as I would oversee the work to make sure the cost was contained within his budget.  This sounded great until it put me into the direct contact with the tradesmen.  I would not use the term Horror stories, but those vultures, sought their potential prey in me.  My guardian angel was not done with me with her lessons and thus a new chapter begins in my True Horror Stories in modern Paris.

To be continued.

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Monday, 25 March 2019

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 108

A weird thing happened two weeks ago.  Mme. Landlord who had sold her apartment was seen wondering in the garbage room of the building.  Of course, I nearly screamed.  What is it with this woman and her obsession with the garbage?  I have heard that the French people are not big on cleanness, but this still felt extreme.  It gave me a shudder when she looked at me and smiled a little, as if she had run into an old friend.  This was the woman who sent an abusive slander about me to everyone in the building last month.  What did she expect from me?

I returned her greeting politely but coldly and walked past her without slowing down.  No more the usual and well-known Japanese warm smile.  I am a traditional Japanese woman who would tolerate condescension, selfishness, impoliteness, what have you, for a very long time, but once we have burnt the bridge, you do not exist to us.  I am not morally above revenge, but mere breathing of the same air with the disappointing person makes me sick that renders me incapable of revenge.  I prefer to leave it up to the God or the fate.

As I closed my door on her I sensed she was bordering on Alzheimer’s disease…and loneliness.  Now that I know Mme. Landlord is a pathological liar, all her talks about having a great relationship with her family may have been all sham.  Why else would Mme Landlord not have more important thing to do other than checking up the garbage room of the building that she no longer lived nor owned an apartment?  She would have made a mother-in-law from Hell that no wife in her right mind could tolerate her officiousness.  Looking back when I moved into this building every tenant described Mme. Landlord as a heartless witch.  If it had not been for the restaurant from Hell, I would have seen her through a lot sooner.  Her loneliness is due to her own doings thus she deserves no sympathy.  Ironically it may have been easier for her had I opted for a revenge because it would have put me in contact with Mme. Landlord.  It would have dissipated her loneliness. 

Instead, Mme. Landlord is deluded by her vain hope that she may still financially benefit from my submissiveness.  I did not opt for a revenge thus I must be still pliable, she believes.  She has even written to me that ‘she still believes that I do not mean to revel against her.’  I had a hunch that this greedy demented woman would keep showing up in the building like a wondering ghost hoping to ignite my former generosity towards her.  

She did indeed return for the second time last week, checking every nook of the building she could access.  And yes, we came across each other in front of my door.  She smiled again while I kept a stone face and ignored her again because she does not exist any more.  At my every rejection the greedy woman will feel her thirst un-quenched and burn by the amount of benefit she believes she should enjoy but have missed out.  It is the worst kind of Hell for an avaricious soul like hers and I did not lift a finger to create it.  She walked herself into it.  She may hope that I would buckle one day.  Never underestimate the resolve of the Japanese, particularly the samurai descendants, no matter how easy it was to push us around initially.

I was going to write about this man who also underestimated the Japanese, a son of the immigrant family who is a French by nationality.  Initially he was behaving with caution when dealing with the Japanese men, but then he saw me.  The years that he had spent in Japan has taught him that the Japanese women are demure and pliable.  I was single and living in Paris alone.  His true color came out.  
To be continued.
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