Canal St Martin, Paris

Dear Mother,

I spent part of Wednesday afternoon taking a leisurely stroll along St. Martin's Canal.  This old canal is still used by tourist boats but seems to be less frequently used by the traditional canal boats to haul goods.  The canal begins at the River Seine, heads directly north and then disappears underground at Bastille.  It remains underground until it emerges several blocks NE of Place de la République, which is where I started.  The Place de la République is one of the enormous métro hubs, an area offering cheaper hotels--for a reason--it's just a tad dicey at times.  True to form, I forgot to bring along a map.  The day was heavily overcast, promising and delivering rain, lots of it, and without the sun to orient me, I got completely turned around, heading north instead of south.  But one is never supposed to be more than a 10-minute walk from a métro station, wherever you are in Paris, so I didn't worry about it and just enjoyed the walk.  In fact, I never intended to visit the canal at all. 

Most of these photos have the theme of water because I used a telephoto to take photos of buildings and people on the other side of the fairly wide canal.  But photos taken on my side of the water show more street scenes and closeups.  I continue to be fascinated by Parisian streets, by the 6-floor residential buildings uniformly-constructed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries (why Vancouver doesn't want these beats me), and by people just being themselves, whether in conversation or while hurrying to their next appointment.  There is also something interesting about murals painted illegally on buildings, and their colors become vivid when the lighting is not too bright.

I took the No. 8 métro from Charenton-Ecoles to République and just started walking.

Some time I hope to make a collection of photos of spray-painted vans.  If the owners leave them out at night, young men find these 'murals' to be irresistible. 

Note the hours for 'retrodancing':  11:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. on Saturdays.  I very much doubt that folks attend Mass on Sunday.

The first bicyclist is using his cell phone while biking on cobblestones.  Bikers never wear helmets in Paris, and there are thousands of bicycles.

I like the word "Paris" tucked in the upper left corner.

About this time, I was getting wet, so I waited for ten minutes under an awning while it poured.  These people were caught in park and found shelter in a kiosk.  With all of this rain, I wonder how the wine will be this year--not a good sign.