The world is attracted to Paris, the city of light, but if you stay to live the shadow beneath her reveals itself to you eventually…at least it has to me. Through my daily struggle in Paris, I began to realize what possessed me to title this blog as ‘the third red apple.’ An initial hint is in the pages available in English and French, but little did I know that it was just a beginning.
I am grateful for the encouragement I
received that I may deserve compensation from Mr. Pride. I too would agree that children and the adults
whose ability to rebuild their lives was destroyed should be compensated.However, I have also witnessed the curse of ‘compensation’
on several occasions.
One was this man I met through his
grandmother in Sydney, Australia.As he
entered the door a certain heaviness spread into the room. He smiled
repeatedly, but meaninglessly which put me on guard rather than feeling warmed
by it.He was frequently hanging around
at his grandmother’s place during the daytime without a proper job.He dressed youngish but on a closer look you
would notice wrinkles on his face.In
short, something about him was not right.His left arm was temporary immobile for he just came out from an
accident.‘Of course, he needs to be
compensated’, said his grandmother.Peculiar thing was that it was his third accident which seemed to have
happened recurrently.Each time he was
paid compensation which enabled him to buy a house despite he was merely a
wanna-be-musician surviving on odd jobs, mostly delivery jobs on a bike.You would think he would be deterred from a
job that would expose him to traffic after so many road accidents.But no, this man just smiled saying, ‘it’ll
be all right.’As I looked into his eyes
which was neither innocent nor courageous I felt nauseated.
A year later this man had his fourth road
accident, this time injuring his neck.His
grandmother was naturally shaken but as I heard the news I was remembering that
this wanna-be-musician had just gotten his long awaited gig cancelled.Considering his age, it would have been very
hard to land another gig.He was of
course filing a lawsuit for a fat compensation.I may have been wrong to assume that he had become a
compensation-junkie, but it is safe to conclude that his music career suffered
from his false sense of financial security provided by the compensation money
which amounted to more than a person could have earned in a life time.It deprived him of the sense of alertness
that all great musicians have. Drop-dead aura thrives on a sharp mind.Our Mr. Compensation may possibly have been
gifted, but his sense was rendered dull by the choices he made in life.His grandmother told me that during his
first accident he incurred a minor injury, but the level of his damage stepped
up with the accidents that followed.The
fourth one damaged his nerve system that he would suffer a certain condition
for the rest of his life.Mr. Compensation
became eligible for a welfare payout as well.There are always women who are drawn to the helplessness of a victim of
the circumstances.As you might guess
it, our Mr. Compensation married a woman whose father had money.
You might say, ‘well, Mr. Compensation’s
case is unique’, but sadly, the attitude of Mr. Compensation appears to be
contagious because we often read of families that take advantage of the
welfare.The curse of compensation
escalates to take on a company, then a community and then… To be continued.
I needed to re-publish this because for some reason my past post has surfaced to replace as the current post. Why does my episode 100 now come after my episode 101?
I agree with Christopher who suggested that I should demand compensation from Mr. Pride.In appreciation of his loyal interest in my blog, I wish to explain why I have not yet done so.
1)It was by my own will to move back to the apartment above his restaurant.The necessity of insulation work was foreseeable.Besides, if I received money from Mr. Pride, my self-appointed mission to spare several French tenants from the hellish noise would become smug-ish.
2)However, I can still demand damage compensation for the time I was being exposed to the inhabitable condition, at a time near-death, which forced me to book other accommodation and the travel fees. This happened a few weeks after I first moved in, so legally I can demand compensation.However, I am waiting for the result of the lawsuit initiated by Mr. Pride.Should the court order the landlords who voted against Mr. Pride out of sympathy for my plight, I will then demand compensation from Mr. Pride so I can pay back the kind-heart landlords.
Thus either way I am not going to receive money for myself from Mr. Pride because the act of demanding compensation will expose my mind to a precarious place where one step in a wrong direction will push me down to joining the Sludge, the victim business players.Then I will lose far more than the compensation money.I am not giving you a cliché that ‘one cannot take money to the next world after one’s death.’I am going to share what I have witnessed, what becomes of the people who received money from one’s enemy in the long run.No preaching fairy tales, just cold facts as to why only the children or the adults whose physical damage deprived them the ability to rebuild their lives ought to demand compensation in my next post because today I have to report what happened to Mr. Honor as I promised in my last post.
Mr. Honor was a man I once labelled as Goliath who bends justice.However, I later learnt that he had climbed the social scale by pretending to be the defender of the minorities.The male version of Mme. Landlord does not fit the title of Goliath because the true Goliath is the one who dominates with his own strength. (If you happen to read my blog for the first time, please refer to my past posts to find out how Mme. Landlord was capable of getting what she wanted without lifting a finger)I was appalled, as were my French neighbours, to have discovered how Mr. Honor took over a small part of the French system and bent justice in favor for the Sludge.
However, a thing happened last autumn which saw the influence of Mr. Honor eclipsed, at least, began to eclipse.I cannot go into detail here (I hope you understand) but the French neighbours resorted to give their collective support to elsewhere. It was not the end of Mr. Honor, but it was at least the sign that domination in life may have the expiry date after all, however long one at that. To be continued.
I shall not bore my readers by sharing how peace
came to my mind through choosing to pay the price of living in the apartment above
the restaurant from Hell in order to save someone whom I will never meet.Some of you may even be disappointed that I
did not opt for revenge.But please,
give some time to the wisdom of my ancestors which was to give one’s enemy what
they want.Not what they need.One of the tragedies of humanity is that we
do not always want what is good for us.We often refuse to listen to what we truly need.We are the worst enemy of ourselves.I cannot give you the instant result of my
decision because it will take time for its effect to surface if you care to stick around.But there are some signs already.
I shall start with the managers of the
restaurant from Hell. I did not complain
when Mme. Harmonie extended their opening hours to midnight without lowering
the music to the detriment of the residents of the building. She got what she wanted. However, this arrangement backfired because serious
diners stay away from eateries with a long hours whose chef is deemed to be so
mediocre that cannot attract diners during the decent hours.Our restaurant from Hell is vacant during
18:30~20:30 while the nearby restaurants are busy with serious diners.Some drinkers start dropping in late hours
but they just want nibbles.They will drink
talk laugh till late without ordering an expensive dish.The restaurant from Hell has become a bar in
effect except it costs more to run than a real bar. The real bars do not need to pay a chef for
the long hours and the place is usually cozy small, which translates to ‘less
rent to pay’.Our restaurant from Hell
still has to pay the rent for a quite big place.They often hold private parties with a loud
music, which further consolidates the bad image of being a secondary restaurant
that relies on music and long opening hours instead of food.If only they had done the right things like other decent eateries considerate of their neighbors, they could have been more successful.But it was Mme. Harmonie and her partners who
made the ultimate decision to ignore the regulations of Paris restaurant code.
Let this be clear that I no longer want the
restaurant from Hell to fail.I prefer
that they stay in our building so that they will not create another hell
somewhere else.There must not be any
more victims of the Sludge and their bar-restaurants.Therefore, I am now glad that I refrained
from appealing my lawsuit against the restaurant which legalized
their questionable right to run a restaurant.Victory for them… if they can run a profitable restaurant.They are bound to Mr. Pride by a contract to
keep paying him the rent for 3 to 10 years in Paris no matter how little their
profit may be.However, if the right of
restaurant had been cancelled by the court, Mme. Harmonie could have demanded a
compensation from Mr. Pride for having failed to disclose my old lawsuit before Mme.
Harmonie bought the faulty right.The
compensation figure could have been bigger than the profit she will ever make
from her mildly successful bar-restaurant from Hell.
Speaking of Mr. Pride, I shall write how he is doing after my decision in my next post. To be continued.
As my readers would know from my past posts
Mr. Pride, the landlord of the restaurant from Hell was not quite a monster
Mme. Landlord had made him out to be.She often performed a tacky impersonation of Mr. Pride, of how he
sniggered at my near death encounter. Boorishness
of the sight of an old woman going ‘Hee hee!’ which I attributed to Mr. Pride
was in fact that of Mme. Landlord herself.Unlike her prediction, Mr. Pride apologized that the excess
electromagnetic or something overflowing from the badly installed commercial
electric appliances in his kitchen below my bedroom nearly killed me.I am not the one to discredit apologies by
claiming that they were not genuine enough.The perpetrator still has a choice to give an apology or not because with
his power he could resume to dominate the weak in this dog-eat-dog world.If he has so chosen to stop taking advantage
of the situation, then his action speaks louder than his words.It is to be noted that some victims who
insist that they are not about money but sincerity of the apology, would repeat
compensation demands claiming that the previous sum did not reflect enough
Back to Mr. Pride who was not a monster,
but not a compassionate person either.When I moved back to the room above his restaurant from Hell, I wrote to
him that I would pay for the sound proof insulation inside my room and my only request
was that he move his big commercial freezer 5~7cm away from the wall so that
the vibrating noise would be weaker when it reached my apartment via the wall.This would not have cost him a cent, but he
chose to ignore my request.Mr. Pride
did not want a person’s death on him, but ongoing suffering caused by the noise
emitted by his restaurant from Hell, he had no sympathy for.This was not too surprising but I had wanted
to know if he shared the same attitude as the Sludge, the victim-business
I did not have to wait long.Mr. Pride decided to demand a big sum of compensation
from all the landlords who had voted against his restaurant.His lawyer claimed Mr. Pride to be a victim
of a gross obstruction of business that Mme. Landlord and the others should pay
him for having put more importance on my sufferings over his business.Mr. Pride refused to acquiece that there was
any noise from his restaurant from Hell.His lawyer went to accuse me of abusive behavior for pretending to be a
victim in hope to sabotage his restaurant.I was puzzled because what victim-pretender would spend their own money on
an unnecessary insulation?Then I
realized that Mr. Pride was perhaps afraid that I would demand compensation
from him.What he accused of me, pretending
to be a victim, demanding compensation…all reflected his attitude as the
Sludge.Oh what a pity.
Mr. Pride would never believe that I was
accepting the restaurant from Hell so that it would not relocate to prey on
more people.He would continue to grab
what he wanted and would succeed most likely.However, he will never know of the treasure given freely by the others.For instance, I have just received a message
from TripAdvisor that I have progressed to become the top 43rd
popular reviewer of Paris.I have not yet
and shall not ever write a negative reviews about the restaurant from Hell, but
had Mr. Pride been a little more harmonious, I would have searched for reasons
to write a glowing review. It may not be much, but it would have been some
help.The other residents of the
building would have become clients too—the best type of regular clients an eatery
can hope to have.
Next post is about what happened to Mr. Honor,
the man I once referred to as Goliath who protected the restaurant from Hell at
all cost. To be continued
December is always the busy month but the
year 2018 was crazy throughout. I was physically stressed and my soul was
tested continuously.Where did it land
in the end?
Mrs. Landlord sold one of her apartments to
an unsuspecting couple who was in overseas.Paris is so popular that there are people who would buy a property
before even looking at it. The real estate folks universally have no problems
stretching facts and Paris is no exception.Is it any coincidence that the real estate women often snag
unsuspecting heirs to some fortune?However, the couple who bought from Mme. Landlord was not innocent
either because they immediately tried to rent the noisy apartment out without applying any
insulation.I was dismayed that the
trail of victims of the restaurant from Hell would continue to stretch.However, who was I to blame when I had moved
out from the apartment myself?I felt
dodgy as the previous tenant who washed his hands off me when he foresaw the
hell to come.
Then the inspiration came to me.With Mme. Landlord out of the picture, I
could move back to that the apartment above the restaurant from Hell and
reinstall the advanced insulation materials from Japan.So long as I stayed there, there would be no
more poor students nor young French tenants to fall victims to the devil that
was greed.It was a ridiculous sacrifice
that everyone would sneer at, but to me it felt right.The act would lift me out of the dire state
as the victim, and then up into becoming someone who would shoulder the pain of
the weak (in this case, those without the means to insulate the apartment).I refrained from using the word ‘protector’
because it would remind me of Mme. Landlord who demanded ample rewards for ‘pretending
to be the protector of the weak’.I
would not go down her road because I would be doing a favor to someone I would
never meet.My soul would be protected
from the evil of demanding gratitude.
Thus I have been extremely busy, moving
back to the room above Hell, paying for some insulation work to maximize the
effects of the advanced insulation materials from Japan. I still hear some noise because the brutal
noise from the restaurant rendered me sensitive to noise, but it would not be a
sacrifice without some pain to endure.The
indifferent couple does not communicate with me directly and the real estate
agent simply demands rent at the going rate of Paris.I had expected this after more than three years in
Paris.Nor do I wish the restaurant from
Hell to leave because those self centered people will simply go on to create
another Hell elsewhere to claim more victims.
Four years ago I made a promise to myself
that I would stop relying on the sunshine of tropical Australia.I hoped to shine in darkness on my own
strength.I moved to Paris of more somber
weather and I have been tested on so many times and so many levels.And now I am on the mission of creating a
piece of Heaven above the restaurant from Hell.I shall not doom my soul to become ‘A victim-turned-predator.’
To be continued for my decision had ramifications.
Have you ever saved a poor bullied at some
stage in your life?And did the bullied
remain grateful to you?Or, maybe the
same bullied turned on you when the gang shifted their bullying on you instead?
The former bullied knows the pain you are
going through and yet the ungrateful former bullied will join the bullying to attack
you.That makes them more cowards than
the bully who does not yet know the pain of being bullied.My intention is not to play a British style
words game, but I hope my message is getting across to you.The person who is more despised than the
bully is the former bullied who joins a collective bullying.Furthermore, the former bullied-turned predator
will slip back into the discriminated position when it will be more convenient
to appear weak in this politically-correct age.Media loves the story of underdogs, the
victims, etc. because it will get a higher rating.
While the bully grabs what he wants, there
are crafty ones who prefer to manipulate others into giving him/her the
prize.If you ever have watched any of
those cooking contest on TV’, there is always a contestant who initially appears
timid and helpless. She may even cry to
milk sympathy of the judges and the viewers that would carry her over to the
advanced level which she does not have the merit to deserve.Then to the horror of the viewers, cockiness
appears on the former helpless lamb.She
starts to act like she has earned the glory all by her self and arrogant statements
would come out of her ungrateful lips.Before you know it,
she will be posing for a cover magazine to now the horror of the professional
models or the truly beautiful.Nothing
like a rigged victory to discourage the young people from making right efforts.
Victim card works and gets you what you
do not deserve.It may be the biggest
temptation the people is exposed in the modern age.Why don’t I join them having been exposed to the
success of the Sludge people behind the restaurant from Hell who know every trick in the book of former victim
business? Their neighbors can't touch those regulation cheaters because they are afraid of being sued for discrimination. Had it been a French owner the restaurant from Hell would have been shut down after three complaints to the authority. The people who knows my
situation (and the readers of my blog) would not argue that I have been their
victim in true sense and they suggest revenge.But I would
have to remain a victim throughout the process of revenge.The longer I remain a victim, more chances of
me becoming a stealthy predator.I am a
human after all. The benefit of the victim card is tempting, but becoming a Sludge feels ominious. They are getting by, but their restaurant could have been so much better had they chosen to do things right. Yet, my not doing anything
would seem like a defeat to the bully, almost a poor excuse for not having the
courage to fight back the evil.
Then I had an inspiration.It showed me the way out from being a victim without
any sense of defeat.To be continued.
I could not update my blog last week because
of flu. Doctor was right, I should have
remembered to get a flu shot.I also
wish there were a shot that would have boosted our immune system against the unfairness
in life.Oh, well…I just have to invent
Though the hyenas are contemptible for
cowardly preying on the victims already bitten and fallen by predators, we can
still assume that they would not have chosen this path if the predator/bullies
had not existed in the first place.So
what makes the bullies tick?‘Greed’
goes without saying.Predators bully the
weak to squeeze out whatever they fancy be it money or sadistic pleasure.As Mr. Maher has said during his show, power
begets power, I can see why the predators would stick to bullying which has
proven to work.But one thing puzzles
me.The bullies still wish to be popular
and liked too.
How can you expect love or even some approval from someone you
have just bullied, robbed or deceived?I
can see that their greed is so humongous that they want it all, power, money
and love, but please, have some logic!Of
course, some people have achieved this feat in the history but they were known to
have conscience and they did not rely on bullying.No decent mind would give a minute to the bullies.Thus the bullies resort to nepotism or favoritism. The bullies have to look for sub-decent lots who would sell their soul for a right price.There is an apt name for these opportunists:
Often the sycophants are more despised than
the bully himself because the sycophants abuse the power despite they have no merits of their own.They ride
on the back of the bully while fully aware of the
pain they incur on others, even enjoying it. Fortunately, the sycophants almost always
meet the same end: fired or kicked out by the bully.The bully do not like being used because it
is a privilege granted only to the
bully himself.Human psychology is a
funny thing.You can almost forget for a
split second how much you disapprove of the bully when he has crushed his
sycophants.Maybe the bully keeps the
sycophants to blame his wrongdoings later. There is never love to be lost between the bully and the sycophants. Only the sugar-coated agenda on the both sides. It must be really lonely at the top when you are a bully.
Nevertheless the bullies will survive but not the
sycophants.The world will punish the
wimps, once they are deprived of the power they had never deserved.The sycophants seem to meet an end very similar to that
of the hyena.Forsaken and loss of credentials.No one replies to Mme. Landlord anymore and her
un-spruced apartments have not yet been bought despite the lowered
price in Paris where properties sell like hot potato chips.
However, there is one group of people who
are more deplorable and more hated than the hyenas, the sycophants and even the
bullies.This last group is the most
tempting that I must resist joining at all cost.To be continued.
I may have given the impression in my last post
that I was about to embrace a religion.Not quite yet although the case of Mme. Landlord taught me the importance
of believing in the existence of God as an omnipotent-supervisor. She lied and manipulated because she did not
feel the God’s eyes on her.We tend to
commit anything if no one was looking.Belief in God will check me from joining the victim-turned-predator
However, embracing a religion does not seem
to save people from corruption either.The
Sludge people is one example.It
seems they use God as their front that shields them from accusation while engaging
in foul acts behind the back of the God while he is looking away. People reproach the Sludge for their foul acts,
but the Sludge will turn the argument around and scream religious discrimination.My one loyal reader wished to know the name
of their faith, but that is not important.A good religion was molded into a cult by the Sludge as a potent mean to
push their agenda.It is quite a foolproof
tactics, but the Sludge can derive strength even from their rare loss as a bonus
of the victim-business.There is no
winning with them.
The readers of my blog may remember that I decided to let
the Sludge win and win instead. While it sounds crazy arming them with more
success, but in my post 92, I described how Mme. Harmonie was being affected by
her own poison.Here is the link, and
please come back to read the current state of the restaurant from Hell.
Having failed to attract clients during the regular dining
hours, Mme. Harmonie opted to extend it to midnight.For this she should have applied for a
Service Continu license that allows long hours.It would cost her money and never the one to play by book, Mme.
Harmonie avoided the problem by announcing the new late opening hours on the social media
site only.Decent restaurants would be
upfront about it on their menu on their windows, but not Mme. Harmonie.She did not bother to inform Mr. Pride, her
landlords that she would be extending her business hours illegally either.Mme. Harmonie knew that I still suffered from
their illegal large noisy kitchen appliances not permitted to the small size
eatery kitchen, but she would still refuse to insulate her kitchen. I may have moved out of my old apartment, but my new apartment was not
that far away from the restaurant from Hell.However, I did not complain to the authority.
Now, it is universally acquiesced that food is mediocre
at the long hour bar-restaurants. People
may have thought that the restaurant from Hell had to open late because they could
not attract serious diners who would sit down for three courses meals during the
regular hours.Mme. Harmonie used her media
connection and obtained many good reviews, but it did not boost the number of
serious diners.Soon, the restaurant
from Hell opted to tapas style, offering small dishes to share among
friends.This increased the number of
late diners, while lowering the average consumption of each client.It would have worked in a small eatery but
the restaurant from Hell had a large dining area in the most expensive part of
Paris.The expensive rent would still
have to be paid.
In this unfair world, sadly the restaurant from Hell
would be successful one day, but it was not happening fast enough for Mme.
Harmonie.I know this because she has
started to serve brunch on Sundays too.Less respite from their kitchen noise for me, but she would not even think
about an insignificant Asian migrant with no voice.
What Mme. Harmonie does not know is that I am one of the
top 50 influential reviewers of TripAdvisor in Paris.I received the congratulation message from
the editor last week. To be continued.
Landlord resorted to nick-picking to undermine my reputation, but the other
neighbors would not take any notice. They must have always suspected
her hypocrisy but did not want to be wrong. Now she was met with a
unanimous silence against her slander about me. I felt so encouraged
that I was ready to stare back at Mme. Landlord should we meet as I came out
from my apartment in the same building.
it never came to that. Mme. Landlord put her apartments up to sale
sooner than she had anticipated under the worst condition. One
apartment she had planned to sell with a renovated kitchen, courtesy of her
former gay tenant Jupiter. That did not pan out as he stripped it
off as he left as he realized that she had him duped. She was stuck with
her old appliances which Jupiter had kept in her storage area. Her
other apartment had its value crumbled by the existence of the restaurant from
Hell. She tried to recoup the loss through piggy banking on my
lawsuit against the restaurant from Hell without paying a cent herself. That
did not pan out when I withdrew my lawsuit. It never had the chance
because of Mr. Honor anyway, but Mme. Landlord was still furious when I
withdrew it against her will. Instead my lawyer rebuked her for her
wrongdoings which blocked her from extracting money from me.
was never a fighter, just a hyaena that fed on victims. It never
seemed to occur to her to endeavor in a normal way. She could have
still paid some professionals to do up her apartment, but the photos on the
real estate site show no such a trace. Apart from the walls that I
painted, the rooms looked shabby. Did not any of her children from her
multi marriages help her? I even recognized the old trash left on
the same spot as a few months ago. She may have been lying about her
close relationship with her children. She was not invited to their
Christmas dinner in the two years that I knew her.
one photo stopped me. In her guest room the large bed mattress she
had retrieved from the garbage room was still there. It was covered
up by a reasonably clean bed cover, but the content remained a dirty lump ran
over by mice. This symbolizes what she became in the end. My
wrist broke because of her, but I am still grateful for one thing she showed me. That
atheist risks being taken over by some powerful force to fill the void left by
a religion. We are weak humans after all. Mme. Landlord
denied God and was possessed by Greed instead. An old woman who disgusted
my mother by always insisting on using my toilet paper with a sheepish
smile despite she had her own toilet upstairs in the same building.
She'd better believe that God does not exist because it is with that sheepish
vulgar face she would be facing the Maker no matter how much she tries to
conceal it with a sweet fake voice.
wait. She became a self-appointed ruler herself. She may
have snatched a lot from other people but may have missed out on bigger rewards
that could have been obtained by her not soliciting. I would have gladly given her
my furniture (the ones I bought) so that her apartment would look appealing had
she not lied to me that it was an obligation of migrants in France to
co-operate with their landlord in every way. Her children and
grandchildren could have benefitted from my connection should they have wanted
to try their luck in Japan. I may be just a migrant in France, but back
in Japan, I am a graduate of Keio University, Japanese version of Oxford
University. The breaking news: In Paris the expo 2025 has
just been awarded to Osaka Japan.Another
city to host a great international event where I have relatives and friends.Mme. Landlord and her family had a place to
stay in Tokyo during the Olympic 2020 and in Osaka during the expo 2025
courtesy of me.And she had blown it all
away by demanding me to pay for a water tap that I broke while I was painting
her apartment for a free.If she had
been graceful enough to accept my offer that was equal to the price of her water
tap, what a great time she would have enjoyed.In life it does pay to be nice and patient.You just don’t always know it. To be continued.
I could not update my blog last week
because of the pain in my wrist. It is
healing slowly, but the pain returns whenever I stress it. But my mind was busy wrestling with many
ideas about my identity. Then I thought
I should start but analyzing each harmonious
character in my true horror stories. Let
me start with Mme. Landlord, the ruthless whipper of the weak while pretending
to be their savior. How does such a
The clue may be in the fact that she was
not a born Parisian. Every city has a hierarchy
that consists of the in-crowds that were born with the non-coded priority over
those who joined the city from elsewhere. Mme. Landlord often spoke proudly of her birthplace, but her eyes betrayed her words. She chose not to return to her birthplace which speaks the truth. The late joiners of the city struggle to secure their place unless blessed with a tolerable
wealth or some kind of accomplishments. Did
Mme. Landlord have any of them? A
daughter from a decent family would not grow up to be a scavenger of garbage
rooms. Her sense of hygiene did not
revolt against bringing a discarded mattress (run over by mouses) into her bedroom. Then
how would an ambitious woman with no advantages navigate herself in a
city? How would she climb up the social
By pretending to possess what the rich and the
successful are stereotyped to be lacking it.
Empathy. No other virtue has been
more abused because you can act it while regular accomplishment requires a lot
of hard work or even financial expenses.
Mme. Landlord boasted of her volunteer works, boasted of getting
involved in many good causes. It left
unpleasant aftertaste that she would demand recognition or gratitude each time,
unlike my acquaintances in Japan who had kept quiet about their volunteer works
until I accidently found out. However, her
tactics must have worked for Mme. Landlord because despite there were some who
suspected her true color (Mr. Brave wrote about it) she managed to gain respect
as a moral leader who became the equal to the rich and the successful among the
circle which she had insinuated herself into. But there was one person who was not
Not naturally empathetic nor generous, her
life-long acting would naturally take its toll on her. She vented her frustration on the weak whose
voice would not be heard. She was all
smile to an aristocrat gentleman while writing slander about him in her emails
to me. I have written in one of my updates about the night when
I was made to move her bulky furniture.
It was not an isolated episode, of course, and one day she made me move
other piece of her bulky furniture during the daytime. She came along to give me instructions, so I
would not damage her old furniture, which was not precious enough for her to
pay the taxi fares for. What was the point
of having migrants around if you could not use them for free labor?
A couple of French women were chatting on
the street. I had to stop because there
was no room on the narrow street of Paris.
I was about to politely ask them to let me pass when Mme. Landlord hurled
some abusive comments to the women. Even
I could understand the part ‘people have lost manner to make space for others
in Paris!’ The two women looked hurt
more than offended and said something softly in French as they stepped
aside. I felt compelled to apologize to
the French women for the rude behavior of Mme. Landlord while she walked past them triumphantly. Where was this moral leader Mme. Landlord passed
herself as? What was to become of her?
Unexpectedly, I was to find out sooner than
I thought. To be continued.
Back in the old ages, predators were savage and
physical.Victims were slain to death. There was no coming back from that.But in the modern age, predators tend to shy
away from physical abuses remembering the legal consequences.Thus, came the age of victim-business.
It is quite fool proof and yet potent. Generally, people are sucked in by the former
victims’ sad tales, no matter how shamelessly elaborated, and believe them without checking
the facts.Some smart or life-wise ones would
voice their suspicion, only to be struck back with the accusation of
discrimination of all kinds: racist, religious persecutors, misogynist, ageism…the
list goes on.If you have some money, the
victim-business will send their lawyer to milk you, over and over because it
does not matter how much money you have paid already, it is the heart that counts,
and you have not apologized sincere enough.So, pay up!One word from you
complaining their elaboration of the facts, the price will hike even
steeper.It is quite lucrative, this
victim-business of the modern age.Best
of all, no one can stop them, and they feel no remorse about having turned predators
of a more sinister kind.In their mind
they are always right that the world should revere them.The sense of obligation and respect for the
order goes out of the window.It is not
cheating if they do it.Hard work is for
the idiots, like Japanese workers, who are forever indebted to the victim business.
It is so tempting to go down this
road.God knows, I nearly did after being
exposed to ‘the sludge’ community for so long. But Mme. Landlord showed me what is in store
for the victim-business.She manipulated
me by mimicking Mr. Pride jeering at my health damaged by his restaurant from
Hell.It was such a vulgar sight that
spoke a world about her true color.And
yet I attributed the vileness to Mr. Pride because my self-righteousness
blocked me from seeing who she was.I
was against ageism, and she took much advantage of it.Wasn’t I fooled when she acted out the scene where
she was being bullied by Mr. Pride?Furthermore, she thoughtfully advised me not to have a direct contact
with Mr. Pride because he was a crafty man who would use my word and twist them
against me.In hindsight she robbed my
chance of finding out the facts.
I am so grateful that I ran into Mr. Pride
after I had left the influence of Mme. Landlord. His eyes were not as arrogant as I had been made to believe.In the end
he was a man who was duped by Mme.
Empathy, just like I was by Mme. Landlord.In his own way, he apologized to me for my horrendous near-death experience
caused by Mme. Empathy.It took me a
while to apologize to him myself for having opposed him without verifying the facts, but I needed time to be sure that Mr. Pride was not part
of ‘The Sludge’ or ‘the victim-business.And more time to find a definition of myself.I was not going to be a victim, the word I
detest now.I must not turn a predator
either. Then what am I to be? To be continued.
I have just edited
my last post in which I had renamed a character.In hindsight it may have caused confusion, thus I decided to bring back
the old name, Mme. Landlord, to the hyena lady.I also mentioned in the last post that she had lied to me about the personality of Mr. Pride,
but smart readers would have suspected it already.
So, instead I
shall report to you the latest of the restaurant from HELL. In my last post I explained why I refrain from
investing my life in revenge. However, I
still take measures to stop any further damages. This is called ‘survival.’ Let me refresh your memory by referring you to
my post number 74. In it, I explained why
my last resort was to let them win until
they weaken themselves with their own toxins.
I no longer
proceeded with my lawsuit against the restaurant from Hell.I cannot reveal the facts, but Mr. Honor
pulled the string in the end and my lawyer was made to feel the pressure.In this sense, a lawsuit against the
restaurant from Hell never had a chance and Mme. Landlord knew this.Thus she did not want to spend her own money
on legal procedures and schemed to use mine while pretending to be sympathetic to
my suffering.But even if she had been a
nice lady as she portrayed herself to the world, I still would not have
appealed because I sensed that any defeat would further empower the sludge.
In case you have
not read my posts about the young Mme. Harmonie who became the new owner of the
restaurant from Hell, she was the one who demanded the residents to show understanding to the restaurant in the name of harmony while telling me
to keep my windows closed if I did not want to hear their noise instead of insulating her noisy machines up to the standard.However, I stopped calling the police as the restaurants from Hell broke the regulations and repeatedly blasted the neighborhood with a monstrous music.Had it faced the busy street, it would have been understandable, but they terrorized this quiet off-street in the historic corner of Paris.With nothing to stop her, Mme. Harmonie kept
on and wasted her only chance to change the bad reputation she had inherited
from Mme. Empathy who had washed off the restaurant from Hell on Mme. Harmonie.The neighborhood was about to organize a petition against the restaurant, but stopped to see if the new owner would behave
right.Mme. Harmonie proved to be no
better than Mme. Empathy, if not worse.
from hell failed to win local regular diners that even its chef quitted before his anniversary.Of course, this was far
from over for Mme. Harmonie, but I have become immune to disgust after three years in Paris.Instead I thought it was interesting that
there was these two women who shared the similar attitude but one was Mme. Harmonie from
a cult and one was Mme. Landlord, an atheist.To be continued.
I could not update my blog last week as I
moved back to Paris. Yes, the gong rang
and the gloves were off.Mme. Landlord is
still lurking around.This is what it
means to live in Paris.One month of
holidays to wind down and 11 months of fighting battles.
Nevertheless, it did not worry me anymore
because after Mme. Landlord received a legal letter from my lawyer demanding to
check her smartphone for the records to back up her claims that she fell off
from my ladder while she attempted to take a call from my insurance company on
my behalf, she did not even show up to the designated meeting.This shuttered my last hope that the
insurance company may still have called her after leaving a message on my
mobile.Mme. Landlord did not even try
to explain herself to my lawyer, nor did she offer to pay back the medical fees
she had wrongfully received from me.Any
illusion I may still have clung to about her having some integrity was no more.I should rename her as Mme. Harmonie, the
senior.She was always preaching about ‘living
in harmony with friends and the weak’ which impressed men and the gullible like
me.The truth was that the weak had to
do as she demanded and and if the weak had money they had to pay her up in gratitude.
However, in order to avoid confusion, I shall continue to refer to the hyena as Mme. Landlord. She thought I would meekly
pay her for the flashy new water tap which would have cost me far less than a legal
letter by a lawyer. To her surprise I
opted to leave a legal record of her behaviors because by then I had learnt that she would
lie through her teeth to play a victim. Her sweet singing voice saved for gentlemen. Sure enough she spread the slander about me and had the nerve to send me
the emails she had exchanged with her friends accusing me of wrong doings.The man who knew nothing about the sacrifice
my mother had to make so that I would paint the apartment of Mme. Landlord,
he advised her to act harsh with me in his email.Did she not think that giving me his email address
was a bad idea?I duly sent him the copy
of my legal letter.Of course, Mme.
Landlord would insist that it was all lie, but the legal fee in France is steep.No one has that kind of money to spend on
lies.At least, I did not hear his
All I wanted was the big old leech to be
out of my life.I am not angry because
her French friends do not fair so well either.I remember the time when Mme. Landlord made me and a man (another
gullible fan of hers) move a discarded mattress that had been laid in the
garbage room for weeks, to the guest room of her apartment.I was horrified.‘You are not going to let your guest sleep on
it?The rats were seen there running around!’She was not fazed at all.‘A clean sheet would hide it.’Then I knew she would lie to her French
friend that she went out of her way to purchase the mattress for him.’I did not miss anything but ceasing to be her
I am not above wishing for a revenge, but I do not carry it out because moving on is far more important.However, in this case a revenge
was done without me lifting a finger.My
lawyer offered to reimburse Mme. Landlord for her old water tap in
exchange of the reimbursement for my labor painting her apartment.Of course, she would calculate that the tap costs
one tenth of what my lawyer demanded, so she backed off.But I know her greed would be in pain for
months wrestling over the new tap fees she could not squeeze out from me.Just like she was writhing nearly a year over
her failure to take more money from her former tenant Jupiter. Her agony was tangible.His real estate agent stepped in to shield
Jupiter, and my lawyer had to step in to shield me from the big leech.Sadly, my wrist will never regain its former
strength, but I must take the responsibility of having a bad judge of
character.Revenge is about shifting all the blame onto the other person, but one's stupidity is not
plausible either, unless you are a still a child.
A French lawyer working as the assistant of
my regular lawyer was assigned my case against Mme. Landlord.He would naturally be bias as I was his client,
but still the genuine shock on his face was enough proof that Mme. Landlord had
behaved without honor according to the French standards.My lawyer was even more disgusted because he had
once spent hours calming the nerve of Mme. Landlord when the restaurant from
Hell was winning.Who paid for the
expense?Me, of course.But I arranged it as a gift from me to Mme.
Landlord because she was a dear friend of mine…at that time.I had expected it would cost me one-hour
legal fees, but Mme. Landlord took the advantage of my offer and consulted my
lawyer for her own business too.My legal
tab was for 2 hours and more.However, I
was still happy when I paid for it that my French lawyer was touched by my
generosity and loyalty.
However, Mme. Landlord has chosen to abuse my
trust and even extract more money from me.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.In hindsight, he was
puzzled that Mme. Landlord who started with a few words about my plight by the
hand of the restaurant from Hell, the two hours legal consultation soon
disintegrated into how much she despised the restaurant that had depreciated
the financial value of her apartments.She
was adamant about kicking Mr. Pride and his restaurant from Hell and for that she
made use of my suffering…and my money.I
was once grateful that my rent was lowered for it, but my lawyer immediately
suspected that Mme. Landlord would collect the difference after the restaurant
was out of the building.She has tried
this method before with Jupiter.She allured
him into paying for renovating her apartment and then terminated the lease and
demanded compensation for the damage.This way she could sell her apartment, now done up in a modern style
thus more sellable than before, with no expense on her at all.
My lawyer suspected Mme. Landlord would repeat
her antics with me, so his legal letter to her covered many grounds.Mme. Landlord made a mistake of having consulted
her own problems with my lawyer, leaving a legal record that she had knowingly benefitted
from my lawyer.My lawyer demanded a
counter compensation from on all the hours of legal fees. My painting labor 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 with her emails demanding me to do the right thing
and observe the harmony among the neighbors.Her hypocritical words resembled that of Mme. Harmonie of the restaurant
from Hell.No wonder Mme. Landlord detested
her.They were birds of a feather.To be continued.
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
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 that she was never ill during her stay in
Paris.She only pretended to be ill so
that I would leave her to fulfill my promise I made to Mme. Landlord about
painting her apartment.She sized up
Mme. Landlord immediately that she was a dark character who would spread
slander about me if she did not get what she wanted.My mother was worried that her slander may
ruin my chance of befriending other decent neighbors, so she chose to sacrifice
her last chance to see Europe and stayed alone in my room for a full week.Little did she imagine that Mme. Landlord
would be so avaricious that she would abuse me to the point my wrist would snap
in the cold chilly apartment where she refused to turn on her heaters for
Soon both my mother and I were crying in
the plane bound for Japan. I regret that
my desire to befriend a French, my desire to become a grateful migrant has
sacrificed my mother’s happiness.I had sort
of suspected that Mme. Landlord’s kind words were not without agenda, but my
principles disciplined me to repay her fake kindness all the same.How naïve of me to have hoped that she would
be touched by my sincerity.I should
distance myself from Mme. Landlord after this hard lesson.
It was not over.When I returned to my mother’s home and
turned on my computer, a message was waiting for me.It was from Mme. Landlord sending me a bill for
a new tap, more expensive than her old one, and the installation fee.I explained my wrist and how my mother
sacrificed her dream holidays for Mme. Landlord.Surely, she could wait till I return in a
month?I was still naive.The cruel woman ignored my mother’s distress and simply warned me that if I did not pay immediately, I would be paying interest.
The hyena was after my money shamelessly,
just like she pursued Jupiter, the sensitive gay tenant for his money.Very well, I would pay.Not for her, but for fighting her.I placed an international call to my lawyer
in Paris. To be continued.
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 advanced age, her fragileness precipitated by four
operations, but I had to delay it thanks to the restaurant from Hell below who made
my former apartment a hell to live.Not the
environment for my fragile mother.February
was not exactly the ideal month for a visit, but Paris is mesmerizing at any
time of the year.
The first 10 days with my mother was
wonderful.She needed my assistance all
the time, but she loved every minute of it.Then…it happened.Mme. Landlord
returned all of sudden to Paris and ordered me to resume the painting of her apartment
to repay her for her kindness.I
explained that my mother was here with me for just another 10 days and there
would be a plenty of time before her guest arrived in 2 months.But non, Mme. Landlord was going away on
holidays in March and she could not fully relax and enjoy it if her apartment was
not done.She was going away with her
grandson that I should know the importance of family.I wrote to her that my mother was my family
too and this was probably going to be her last chance to see Europe if her
pending eye operation was not successful.Mme. Landlord completely ignored this and still insisted.
I realized then that the kindness to
migrants was costly and that migrants’ family clearly came secondary to the
French family.I could not abandon my
mother, but then she fell ill.She told
me to go fulfill my promise while she rested in peace.I knew my mother’s keen sense of obligation
would suffer if I violated it, so I sadly went up the stairs to Mme. Landlord’s
apartment on the top floor.The hyena looked
satisfied that her free help came.She stayed
around for a while to give me tons of instruction but left because the room was
too cold.She told me that her heater
was still not fixed, and the toilet was still broken.Needless to say, Mme. Landlord had no words
of sympathy for my mother who had fallen ill.Instead, she bang on my door loudly to wake my sick mother up so she could
use my toilet.Economizing on toilet
paper was more important than the health of an aged migrant to Mme. Landlord. I hope that no other French women are this vulgar.
I continued to finish the painting because
coldness made me numb, body and mind.I
was too sad to confront the reality that my sincerely had been exploited.Days after I was finally cleaning up having
finished the job.The cold water numbed
my wrist for the last time.I said ‘last’
because the tap snapped as I turned it.I
realized with horror that I had broken Mme. Landlord’s tap and the mobility of
my wrist was gone.
My readers would know that which one of us
demanded compensation. To be continued.
The month of January 2018, I was left in
peace during the long absence of Mme. Landlord.She wanted to enjoy the time with her grandchildren.However, she did not leave quietly…as my
readers might guess by now.
Mme. Landlord would not release my deposit
easily.She cooked up all the things
that needed to be replaced new.Luckily,
my insurance agent had advised me to take photos of the apartment when I was
first allowed in.They
needed to contest the claims concocted by Mme. Landlord, just like she did with
her former tenant Jupiter who had his deposit denied for taking out what
rightly belonged to him.What happened
next needs a bit of explanation, so unbelievable her attitude was.
She had an accident falling off from a
ladder when her phone rang.Now the
phone call was from my insurance agent and the ladder belonged to me.She had insisted on leaving it in her
apartment until the painting was completed.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.Had I lefft her apartment in a good condition, my agent would not have bothered her.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 was right.I felt obliged to pay her medical bills
because she got injured in relation to the action of my agent.Later my French lawyer advised me that I was
not responsible for her injury, but I had already paid her.There was a flash of sheepishness in her
eyes, but she took the money and quickly pushed it down her pocket looking very satisfied.I asked her for
the receipt issued by the pharmacy. I did
not want to repeat the same mistake made by the Japanese government who paid a chunk
of compensation money without an international witness and ended up endlessly being
demanded of compensation by a certain group of people.I personally agree that financial
compensation does not heal everything, but it does not hurt for them to
acknowledge what they have already received from Japan over decades.
After Mme. Landlord left to join her
family, I spoke with my insurance agent.It turned out they had never called Mme. Landlord.They had in fact called me and left a
message.I checked my mobile’s records
and found the message sent on the day Mme. Landlord claimed to have the accident
trying to answer the call from my agent.It was a petty lie and yet her circle of friends were disgusted that ‘here
is another ungrateful migrant causing a trouble to the French.’I understand the concern of Madame Le Pen about
the ungrateful migrants because some of them are disrespectful of the French
ways.But I hope she knew of migrants
like me who are made ‘scapegoat.'
Not all migrants are financially challenged.Some of them are elites who had to flee
their homeland to protect their wealth. Such
was this Turkish doctor whose acquaintance Mme. Landlord boasted of a lot.She would say ‘I was raised as a Catholic,
but I do not like religions.Thus, I do
not discriminate Muslims.’For many
months this kind of her comments impressed me.She told me how many of her rich friends frequently invited her for all
expenses trip in exchange of her doing them some favors.Still, I thought she would pay for her own
meals.I would if my travel and
accommodation fees were paid.
day I asked her about the meal arrangement and I was surprised by her response.She casually replied to my question that it
was not her problems to worry about the expense.She did not even look up from her smartphone while
saying ‘Je ne sais pas.’There was no
hint of gratitude, but only the sense of entitlement on her arrogant
profile.This Turkish doctor must have
imagined a friend in Mme. Landlord, just like I was fooled for many months.He may have felt vulnerable in the face of
religious discrimination in the world that Mme. Landlord’s sweet words felt
like music.In my case, I had been
weakened by the restaurant from Hell and thus I was ripe for the easy exploitation
by She the hyena.
However, I was not angry.Sad and disappointed, but not angry because being
a bad judge of character was my fault at my age.I preferred to move forwards.Besides fate dealt me a kind hand for a
change and had one Italian couple in the neighborhood offer their apartment
when they learnt that I was looking for one.They had also been disillusioned by Mme. Landlord and somehow chose to trust
me.Their apartment was in the same
building that I first hesitated because I had had enough of Mme. Landlord and
the restaurant from Hell.However, the
one decisive factor was that I would not need to report the change of address
to the French Government.In order to
extend my visa, continuity was considered important.I had not yet studied the Baroque French
history as I had initially planned to do.At that time my wrist was still fine, thus I hoped to become a graphic
novelist in France.Of course, there was
no guarantee that I would have succeeded, but I would like to have a crack at it at
least.So, I accepted the offer of the
Italian couple and gave one month notice to Mme. Landlord.
I had expected rage, but her concern was
whether I would continue to fight Mr. Pride.She blurted out that she needed the restaurant to be driven out from the
building so that the former financial value of the property would be
recovered.In order to fight Mr. Pride,
a lawyer was needed.Now the readers of
my blog would remember that I have been paying all the legal expenses because I
believed in fighting the evil that had victimized the neighbors.I was the only one who could not speak French
well, thus I was the weakest useless link. I believed Mme. Landlord was genuinely sympathising with my ordeal and her crying face compelled me that I should step
up and bring in a French speaking lawyer. Everything appealed to my Japanese sense of obligation.
Did she con me?I would not know, but by this time a new
piece of information had reached my lawyer.Mme. Landlord had once been engaged in a legal battle with another
commercial neighbor, but the all the expenses were paid by this one wealthy French
neighbor.His lawyer won the case, and
the compensation was paid out, even to Mme. Landlord who had not paid any legal
expenses.That she did not decline the
money that should have been paid to this wealthy French man revealed a lot about her.
I replied to her that I no longer wished to
fight Mr. Pride now that I have purchased the advanced insulation materials from
Japan.She put on her distressed face
again and pleaded me to continue engaging my lawyer so that other neighbors,
notably her, did not have to pay a cent to combat the restaurant from
Hell.I was not fooled again, so I
refused.Then her sweet face distorted
into a dark vulgar face as she hissed.‘No amount of insulation from Japan would work.You will still suffer!’She wished me to suffer while she insulted
the advanced technology of Japan too. Luckily, a young man passed by and Mme.
Landlord quickly put back on her lady face.As she greeted the young man with a sugar voice, I escaped.But remembering how tedious and persistent she
was in pursuing Jupiter for money she did not deserve, I knew it was not over.
The only small consolation was that Mme.
Landlord does not discriminate French nor non-French when it comes to parasite-ing.
To be continued.