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The true horror stories in modern Paris part 66

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A French lawyer would naturally be biased as I was his client, but still the genuine shock on his face was enough proof that Mme. Landlord had behaved without honour according to the French standards.    My French lawyer was indignant that an aged woman who was a grandmother of many grandchildren should have chosen to exploit a migrant young enough to be her daughter.    My lawyer suspected Mme. Landlord would repeat her antics with me, so his legal letter to her covered many grounds.     My painting labour alone would have cost Mme. Landlord 5000 euros had she employed a professional.   My lawyer halved it out of good faith.   He wished to demand her for the injury on my wrist because it has affected my career and would continue to do so in future, but as I left France immediately after the injury to accompany my fragile mother back to Japan, it would be difficult to prove the liability of Mme. Landlord.   While he was finalizing his legal letter, Mme. Landlord bombarded me wit

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 65

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I wrote in my last post the reason why I have been irregular in updating my blog.   My wrist has had up days and down days when it simply hurt too much to type.   Today has been one of those latter days.   I apologize in advance if I fail my readers again. With my left hand only I emailed to Mme. Landlord to apologize for having broken her tap.   I offered to replace it as soon as I return from Japan.   ‘…right now, I need to catch a plane to accompany my mother because she is too fragile to travel alone.’…Yes, that cruel Mme. Landlord had made me work till the morning of my mother’s departure from France.   Mme. Landlord did not even give my mother a chance to drive around Paris briefly for the last time.   To her, migrants were hers to own and benefit from. I managed by tipping whoever willing to carry our luggage because my wrist had lost its mobility.   Once on the plane, my mother started to cry and blamed her for my injury.   It did not make sense to me, but she revealed

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 64

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You might wonder why I still honored my promise I made to Mme. Landlord to paint her apartment despite her harsh nature that had revealed itself with time.   One was for the honor of all the migrants.   Mme. Landlord would spread around a slander about another ungrateful migrants who would not return her kindness.   Completing the painting was the only way to prevent it.   But another reason was a sentimental one.   I naively hoped that my sincerity might soften her attitude in the end.   In hindsight I guess I realized something was wrong, but I believed sincerity was the only way an Asian could befriend a French in Paris. Mme. Landlord informed me that she was having a guest over in April and thus she must have her apartment ready by then.   She was not in Paris in the month of January, so I assumed there would be no painting during the cold winter months.   I decided to have my mother flown from Japan into Paris to my new room.   I should have done so sooner considering her adva

Congratulation, Mr. John Millman

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This is an extra update.  I had to because Mr. John Millman, an Australian tennis player has just won a great victory.  To be honest, I would not have reacted much if he had not been an Australian.  I may have left that big island nation, but I still feel a sentimental connection that is strong enough to rejoice every time good thing happens to Australia, the nation that helped me grow a backbone.  Without it I would have perished a long time ago in Paris. Congratulation and many thanks. にほんブログ村

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 63

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While the painting was interrupted, Mme. Landlord had an accident falling off from a ladder when her phone.  This ladder was mine and Mme. Landlord had insisted on leaving it in her other apartment.  She made a huge fuss about her fall, telling everyone that she fell from the ladder while removing the glues from her walls.  She repeated to the world that had I done the job right, she would not have needed to be up the ladder.  Mme. Landlord had a lot of experience with Japanese students and tenants that she knew my sense of obligation would yield if she succeeded in making me feel guilty.    She planned it right.  I felt obliged to pay her medical bills because she got injured in relation to my action.   There was a flash of sheepishness in her eyes, but she took the money and quickly pushed it down her pocket looking very satisfied.  Something made me ask her for the receipt issued by the pharmacy.  At this stage, I did not suspect her story to be a fabrication, but as I resumed pai