Showing posts from August, 2018

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 62

My wrist has been hurting the last few days thus my delayed update.   I am still paying the price for having glorified Mme. Landlord’s personality and let her abuse me till my wrist snapped.   The amount of labour she threw upon me may not have done less damage had my muscle not been tense from the stress the restaurant from Hell was exposing me too day and night.   It may have helped if Mme. Landlord had allowed me to turn her heater on during the cold winter months.    But I soldiered on for the honour of migrants, not just for Japanese people, because Mme. Landlord wrote to me that her friends applauded her for the few hours after I had put in one week into preparing and sanding her walls.    That she did not share with her French friends that I had done the hard work, was still tolerable.   However, she had the nerve of writing to me that her friends were disgusted that I had done nothing useful which surpassed the level of mere lying.   Mme. Landlord probably meant it as a black

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 61

At the beginning, Mme. Landlord asked me each time she wished to borrow something from me.  Then gradually ‘borrowed’ became ‘taken.’  After 16 months, she would just take them and would be rather cross if I retrieved my things from her apartment.  Still, I made excuses for her, telling myself that it was her advanced age making her forgetful of manner.  Of course, she was miserly to the bone, but I did not want to see it then.  My plate was already full of dark sludge of the restaurant from Hell, I could not handle another type of evil. So, I got to work in the cold month of December in her apartment.  I spent two days in total scraping off the old layers, filling up the numerous holes.  A professional painter would tell you that this was the most tedious work of painting, but I did it because Japanese would honor their promises.  It was becoming evident that Mme. Landlord did not see me as her equal, but that was natural.  France was her land and she had priority here over me.  I

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 60

If the Police kept the records of the city cameras that night, you would see me, a tiny Japanese woman pushing two chairs twice the size of herself across Paris.   My arm muscle ached but so did my heart.   I could not adjust to the sobering reality that Mme. Landlord was not quite a philanthropist that I had believed her to be.   I remembered of this recent cocktail party held at Mme. Landlord’s apartment.   I felt honored at being invited so I dressed up for the occasion and brought a thank you gift.   Mme. Landlord happily accepted the gift and seated me on a chair.   I marveled at the group of French ladies as I thanked God for allowing me this rare glimpse into the French socializing scene.    Then as more guests arrived I noticed that colored ladies were being seated near me.   Initially I suspected the dark-skinned ladies to be non-French speakers like me, but no, they turned out to be fluent in French who would have been capable of joining the discussion among the French

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 59

Mme. Landlord was chatting away about her grandson and how well she was getting along with her son and her daughter in law.   Mme. Landlord and I were in Leroy Merlin, a hardware shop in Paris.   Paint needed to be purchased to paint her apartment, the one that had been left in mess by her former tenant Jupiter.   Not knowing that she was lying I offered to help with the big task because she had put on an Oscar performance of a crestfallen old lady.   Besides, her son who lives in Paris would surely help his old mother too?     To this Mme. Landlord replied as ‘Oh, no, I cannot ask my son (and his wife).   They are raising children.   Their time is precious.’ I let pass this inconsiderate comment about my time being insignificant as a childless single woman because Mme. Landlord was from the generation when women’s worth was measured solely by the number of children she bore and raised.   She cannot be accused of the general opinion.   To her credit, she had shed off racial discriminat