and so it was about the 10th day in Paris that IT really began. trouble finds me wherever i go. even in singapore; not just when i'm overseas. i just walk right up into it. or is it perhaps i do things that are more dangerous than the average person??? i'm normal, not stuntman, not extremist...

we decided, jan and i, that we look for Trouble, never on purpose of course. it was tuesday night, the day the strikes and demonstrations in Paris began. I wanted to go to the 17th arrondissment to explore....(with a fantastic market and all, how to resist even on a day of strife?) somehow we found ourselves in Monmarte and stumbled upon the Basilique du Sacre Coeur, a pretty cathedral which was featured in the film Amelie.


SO all was fine and well, no demonstration in sight. we caught the sun setting over Paris, quite gorgeous with the Eiffle about to light up in the distance, wobbled down the 243steps and wandered into a quaint egyptian teashoppe/restaurant fr dinner.

now before we get to the traumatic bits i must comment that the mint tea we had was most extraordinary. fresh, crushed mint leaves infused with an egyptian tea mix thing. absolutely refreshing on a freezing spring night. then there was moussaka, a roasted brinjal n tomato + minced beef stew/curry... something asian tasting... alas!! contented sigh...

we were all ready to go home, filled with a warm fuzzy feeling...

walking towards the Metro Pigalle, we discovered that it was the red light district of Paris (more vividly described to us by the french, photojournalist cutomer we met the next day.)

it was seriously a case of being in the wrong place at a most tragically wrong time.

Jan was trying to take the perfect shot of the neon red 'Sexodome' and 'Peep Show' signs, capturing the essence of Pigalle. I was standing around innocently waiting for her...


SUDDENLY....

this short, young punk grabbed at the sling bag hanging around me. I suppose it was my fault 'cause i looked like such an easy target, being asian, touristy and female.

i fell to the ground and jan and the punk were engaged in a tussle over the bag. he was violently tugging at the bag, i think my neck could have broken if it was any less strong. the felon had an advantageous hold of the bag, so as the straps broke he ran off in a flash with it, leaving the two of us in a most shell-shocked state.

unbelievable. afterall it was a very brightly lit area in the middle of 2 busy streets, by the entrance of the Metro station, with quite a few pedestrians walking by.

no one helped us while we were fighting for the bag.

no one stopped him whle he was running away.

we didn't manage to kick his balls or throw a punch.

i thought i could react better, since i should be rather used to sudden attacks.
but all the previous re-enactments in my head, fighting off imaginary baddies; did not surface to help deal with the punk then..

the element of suprise was stilll the better weapon...

i think i shall seriously consider some self defence course when i return home.

i lost 110EURO and my mobile. we gained a bruised knucke, backside, swollen and scratched up middle finger.

well at least we made a new friend, there was some heart left in Paris afterall.we shall call her angel evelyne.she came up to us and asked if we were alright and if we wanted to go to the police.

she got robbed too. hers was even more ridiculous, she actually negotiated with the assailant, so he only took her money. a passerby actually came up to apologise for being unable to help as he was scared!

at the police station we got turned away because they had their hands full with the arrest of many strikers, and the building was filled with them. INCREDIBLE eh? right then i missed singapore so badly, cos at least i have a home and family to run to, policemen who wouldn't reject my report, streets that were tons safer and familiarity that would stabilise my nerves.

we almost didn't have a home to return to for the night cos he ran away with the housekeys as well. the caretaker lives an hour away from rue friant and we thought of just sleeping outside our door for the night.

of course our angel would not have allowed that. she got us to call madame corantine and explained the situation (in a flurry of french) and agreed to meet us. thank God we had her as our relief translator/middleperson.

so we sat on the train home, a little stoned but at least alive and nearly unscathed.....
once again....