Showing posts with the label neighbors from hell

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 32

Still, Mme. Landlord did her best salvaging the unfair situation with a petition.  She hoped that it would prompt the other landlords, who do not reside in the building themselves, to get involved.  A couple of my neighbours signed the petition and Mme. Landlord entrusted me with the task of talking to this one girl tenant who was also annoyed by the noise from the restaurant. ‘I wanted them to close that restaurant!’ she had spattered to me, so I took Mme. Landlord’s signed petition with full of hope. I was startled when I saw a male figure in the corridor near my door because I recognized the man to be a waiter at the restaurant when I went to see Mme. Empathy.  To my surprise, he smiled and greeted me a musical ‘Bonjour.’  He was convinced of his charm and melting smile, except it froze me inside.  I saw his eyes were condescending, but at the same time with a purpose.  Instead of going back to my room to get the petition letter, I went pass by him to go out the building.  As I

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 31

Mr Pride raised an eyebrow on learning that Mme. Landlord had reported his act of breach of trust to the Syndic.  However, he knew the Syndic would not oppose him because he was the largest shareholders of the building, and thus had the power to fire the Syndic.  Despite the claim of being the nation of equal rights, France is severely polarized society that favours the elites and the rich.  The frequent strike that French workers are renowned for is more like act of desperation rather than defiance.    Indeed, the CEO of the Syndic refrained from taking any actions against the restaurant.  The blow struck Mme. Landlord hard and shocked me.  There was no way she could gather consent of the other landlords to hire a lawyer against Mr Pride in time.  Three weeks had already passed since the legal permit was granted to the restaurant.  Mme. Empathy was confident that two months provisional limitation would pass without a hitch.   I could foresee the hell that would follow after the expi

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 30

‘Incroyable!’ (unbelievable), she repeated over and over as Mme. Landlord read the copy of the restaurant authorization granted to our infamous Mme. Empathy at the office of PASU.  We had expected lies about the insufficient insulation in her kitchen, but Mme. Empathy had falsely reported to the authority about the lack of consent of the other landlords on many other issues.  For this she did not act alone.  Her landlord, Mr. Pride had betrayed the trust of the other landlords of the building.  In order to protect the quality of the living condition of their homes, the other landlords stipulated a list of conditions to Mr. Pride.  One of them was a partial installation of a glass roof.  The other landlords had voted to reject this request fearing that it would transmit noise and flickering light at night to the apartments nearby.  Mr. Pride blatantly ignored this decision and wrote to the authority PASU that the other landlords had unanimously agreed to his request.  As the result

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 29

After the successful opening party of the previous night Mme. Empathy stood there glowing.  However when Mme. Landlord and I entered the restaurant Mme. Empathy looked at us as if we were vermin.  Mme. Landlord politely explained the situation, but was rudely interrupted.  Mme. Empathy glared at me and spoke to me in English to my surprise.  She insisted that I did not hear anything.  If I did then it was me being oversensitive.  She then turned to Mme. Landlord and said in French ‘You should pay for the insulation, not me.’  Not knowing this, I naively begged Mme. Empathy to at least refrain from using the dishwasher after midnight.  She looked me straight in my eyes and said, ‘ we have no dishwasher. ’   I could see one in the kitchen and pointed at it.  ‘ Oh, that is not it’.  Without even  once flickering in eye.  I realized that I was dealing with a pathological liar.  Logical thing would be for me to walk away, but her command of English puzzled me.  It was too good for a Fr

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 28

I returned to my building after midnight but the guests were still in the restaurant.  The drunks were laughing away with Mme. Empathy.  But I was relieved to find that the chef was outside smoking so at least there would be no more cooking.  This chef was an Asian which is considered trendy in Paris these days.  He did not know then that Mme. Empathy would later reveal her racism and threw him out after stealing his French-Asian fusion recipe.  A woman who tramps down her neighbors would have no scruples mistreating her employees. However, there was one group of people Mme. Empathy would turn her charm on and that was 'elites'.  She boasted of being chummy with famous food critics.  Even her brother had a connection with someone in the authority.  Can such a thing be possible in an advanced nation like France?  But how do you explain the fact that their permit to open a restaurant was granted by one person at the Council only a few months after the first application was t

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 27

The hell-turbo engulfed my apartment.  The invisible but strong force gripped my lungs and pinned me down onto the floor…which transmitted the vibration from the extractor of the restaurant directly into my body.  I had to push myself up with all my strength while losing balance to the vibration from below.   I was fast losing breath and felt the blood pressure rising.  I managed to stagger towards the small kitchen that was half shielded by a wall.  I gulped water down instinctively in hope to ease my heightened blood pressure.  With my shaking fingers I called Mme. Landlord.  She immediately perceived my distress.  There was concern in her voice which felt like a ray of light in dark.  She promised to come the first thing the following morning to speak to the restaurant.  This small new hope gave me enough strength to go back out to the hell turbo, walk across to the door and leave my apartment.  I ran out of the building, passing the restaurants where guests were making merry w

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 26

In spite of everything Paris continues to draw people in for many reasons, but one of mine was to fulfill the dream of my parents.  They wished to live there basking in her historical glories.  As an Asian with no siblings, it was all up to me to make this happen and my father’s mind was gradually being eroded by Altimizers.     Time was running out so I settled on this apartment in Le Marais.  Thus I came face to face with the notorious Mme. Empathy whose desire was to have fun at the expense of other people.  Her smile made me feel uneasy, but I needed to ask her to show me her kitchen.  I was initially hesitant to live above a restaurant, but my parents had weak knees that they could only walk up to low floors.  As the small apartment was not above the client seats area I had decided to move in.  The kitchen noise from below should be manageable with insulation and so in order to insulate my place effectively I needed to see where her kitchen appliances were installed.  To my r

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 16

Needless to say I caught up with my long awaited restful sleep in Wien the first few days.  As I regained my strength I assessed the situation.  The bar next door should not be too much problems as the owner-residents would surely take care of the noise once they are back from Christmas holidays.  So it was back to those two anti-socials upstairs.  Perhaps I could notify the owner and the police and stay away from Paris for a while.  That would have cost me unnecessary expenses, but quitting Paris for good never occurred to me.  Not until I got harassed by the French.  Leila was from Algeria and she seemed determined to defy anything French including the French regulations.  She was determined to establish superiority over me the Asian by any means, mostly foul.  She may try but those two misfit foreigners were not going to drive me away from Paris.  Besides…something told me the things were going to be all right as I listened to the God sent voice of angels by the Vienna Boys’ Choi

The true horror stories in modern Paris Part 15

Fate—a factor you cannot overuse in fictions lest the plot becomes unrealistically convenient.  Thus the characters have to take the matters in their hands.  The readers cheer on while fully being aware that it does not happen in real life.  As this is my true story I could only wait for the fate to intervene.  I could not even move out the apartment because the agent would want to know the reason for breaking the contract.  If I told them, they would contact the landlord of Leila and that would tick off her fiancé.  Thus, I was barely surviving with a sound masking application which softens the onslaught of the washing machine and her relentless high-heel strikes on the floor without carpets. Then one night a blast of disco music blocked out every sound in the world.  It was coming from the next door bar whose manager had no respect for the thin walls of the historic buildings.  The drumming beat continued to hit me until 03:00 in the morning.  Maybe longer but my memory stops th

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 14

Up to this point I had never thought of the possibility of the two neighbours from Hell being involved in crimes.  I was afraid of Leila’s fiancé turning physically violent on me, but the frequent use of the washing machine upstairs was becoming abnormal.  So I decided to google two words, ‘washing machine’ and the other word…I had no ideas what it was called because I was a boring prude that I still am.  Then by pure luck the YouTube videos featuring Mr. Bill Maher that I had been following was discussing the medical use of some potent plants.  I saw the word that starts with ‘W’ on the monitor next to Mr. Maher.  That must be the second word I needed.  I googled and then was blown away by all the videos that came up.  I knew that man was not in cleanliness.  But how could Leila, who seemingly a smart woman, could be supporting such a man?  Then I remembered one conversation we had before she turned anti-social on me. I remembered Leila hobbling down the stairs a few days aft

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 13

Our survival instincts are often compromised by our denial of the imminent danger.  A pair of amoral people were living above my studio, and yet I chose to be blind to the risk.  Maybe I was too scared to confront the truth and yet foolishly refused to acknowledge the defeat by moving out.  As much as it sounds like ‘Victims bashing’, I feel victims, unless children, may be partially responsible for the tragedies, judging from my own behavior. But in my defense, the noise of their washing machine was weakening me.  I was puzzled as to why it should have oppressed my chest (technically 'breast', but I felt the pressure deeper inside).  It turned out that the washing machines emit infrasounds, otherwise known as a slower killer that triggers depression in the long run.  The noise was amplified by their tile floor and insulation material was difficult to apply on my centuries old uneven ceiling lined with woods.  Like the title says, it is the true horror story in Paris.

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 12

I was going to call the Police should the washing continue to the later hours, but the image of Leila’s fiancé was somewhat unnerving.  Besides, that night Leila did not do her washing.  Probably she had tediously done so during my absence, only to have found out that she wasted her electricity for nothing because I had not been there to suffer the noise.  Her high heels could be heard on my ceiling though.  It conveyed her mood that she was irritated.  Being with her beloved did not seem to improve her mood.  Who said that love conquers all?  Not the dark desire to harm the others from the looks of it. The following morning her high heels left the apartment.  I was surprised to see her fiancé standing by the window of the stairs in the afternoon.  I did not ask any questions, but he started gloating on his high educational degrees.  And he found himself living in Leila’s room with no day jobs?  I would accept that as appropriate from writers and artists only.  He went back to Lei

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 11

Incapable of escaping the suffering I was subjected by my anti-social neighbor upstairs, I prayed for the morning to come sooner when Leila would have to go to work.  She did and her high heels kicking the floor subsided, but right before she left she had set her washing machine for another long cycle again.  Beaten, I lost conscious.  I woke up with a lot of sweat.  Weak as I was my survival instinct kicked in I managed to get up and hobbled down to the nearest grocery shop to buy some fresh orange juice.  I drank 2 liters at one sitting. Now what?  Complaining to Leila’s landlord did not work out for Mr. A.  Besides it would only fuel Leila’ morbid desire to prey on the vulnerable.  It was her only way of mitigating her own sense of inferiority she is subjected to by other Caucasians in her miserable life.  I had to pretend that her washing machine did not bother me so as not to encourage her further, but to do that I had to book a hotel for to get over my flu.  The hotel fees a

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 10

No matter how many times she has been terror attacked Paris does not lose her glamour and continues to allure tourists.  The life in Paris has been a battle of some form or another all along.  It is nothing new and the Parisians, the survivors deserved to be proud.  The world may judge the Parisians to be arrogant, but they have earned the right to be selective as to whom they befriend.  You cannot fool them with a mere superficial smile.  They can see through you, just like they have seen through Leila and not one Parisian opted to be close, polite but not embracing.  Leila wonders why but there is one man who knows the reason.  Our poor Mr. A. who woke up with less sense in his tongue. He immediately complained to Leila’s landlord.  However…Leila made good use  of her youth and turned the story around.  Mr. A, a lonely old man, had been seeking her attention and after declining his advance he tried to get back at her with his ludicrous claim.   Now, the landlords tend to bel

The true horror stories in Paris-Part 9

Mr. A. returned to his apartment feeling much relieved that his talk with Leila went cordially.  He would at last have peace and quiet after this night.  He put on his kettle to make himself a cupper…then his hand stopped.  That blasted grounding noise started above his head.  Leila had turned on her washing machine as soon as he had left.  ‘Oh, maybe she just needs to do one lot because she could not help it that she came home after 19:00…’  Mr. A. tried to explain Leila to himself, but she could have set the timer on her machine so that it would wash during the normal hours of the following day. The machine got louder as it reached the final spinning stage.  Because of the thin walls and ceiling in Paris’ old buildings, it felt as if he was inside the spinning machine with his guts being oppressed.  Mr. A held on waiting for the final bang.  It came and the quiet that followed relaxed his muscles.  Mr. A sighed.  It was nearly 22:00.  But wait…Leila re-started the washing cycle