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

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 58

I have deleted my last update which deviated from the updates of my true struggles in Paris.   I wish to make up by responding to the suggestion made by my loyal follower.   Christopher Meade (a writer, funny and compassionate)  was so indignant about the calculating Mme. Landlord, that he suggested that I should take revenge in the comment section of episode 78.   Appeasing thought and I am only human.   However, I must first analyze the process that I got taken in by this experienced hyena so that I will not repeat the same mistake.   Hard as it is, I must take my responsibility for having fallen…a victim.   I hesitate there because I dislike this word, more precisely, the people who refer to themselves as ‘victims’ as if it is a license.   Apart from children and the physically weak, there is no such a thing as blameless victims.   Greed makes people fall for scams.   Lack of preparation makes you lose.   In my case underestimating the weak was my undoing.    Mme. Landlord was

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 57

My injured wrist has had some rest.   I’m not sure if anyone would care for my updates while the world cup 2018 is on, but I’d better write some before my wrist gives way again. In hindsight, I was always uneasy that Mme. Landlord constantly reminded the people around her of her good deeds.   She called herself ‘a good person yet underappreciated.’   It may be very Japanese of me, but I was brought up with the idea that good deeds may be recognized, but should not demand rewards.   It was sad because she did not need to remind me of her kindness because I always remembered it.   When she asked me to print all her private documents, I did not doubt her explanation that she found the modern technology difficult.   I had to go through several ink cartridges, each quite expensive in France, but I was happy to do them for her free.   However, one night, Mme. Landlord needed her vast documents for her freelance work and I had to deliver the printed documents after 22:00.   Unfortunat

The true horror stories in modern Paris part 56

I’ve been enduring inflammation of a tendon in my wrist.  It is getting better, so I resume my blog about the three evils I encountered since arriving in Paris.  The Goliath-type predators stand before you like a wall, so there is a chance you can spot them and run the other way.  The second evil, the hypocrite sludge, save their smile for the people in power, while ruthlessly stomp over the weak, or in their term, the useless, and will walk away in search for another conquest.  The silver lining is that the sludge will leave you alone if you let them win on small scale battles.  The third type of evil is not that easy to shake off because those hyenas are after small gains that even the weak victims can give if you press their wounds hard enough.   The real estate agent of Jupiter was indignant with the offer made by Mme. Landlord.  Though she posed as a generous landlord by giving her tenant 6 months until November, the real estate agent knew of the French laws that forbids landlor