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The true horror stories in modern Paris part 67

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I started looking for a new apartment, but suddenly Mme. Landlord sold the apartment I was living to one Italian couple.  They were seeking investment properties and it suited them that a tenant (me)  was already there.   I had had enough of the restaurant from Hell, but 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.  Besides I had already invested in insulation materials, I might as well stay.   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 analyzing each harmonious character in my true horror stories in this modern Paris.  Let me start with Mme. Landlord, the ruthless whipper of the weak while pretending to be their saviour.  How does such a personality develop? The clue may be in the fact that she was not a born Parisian.  Every city has a hierar

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