Discovering the city sans velo

One of my favourite ways to interact with a city is via bicycle. It’s been three years that I’ve been a year-round cyclist and I find myself at a loss on the tragic occasions at which I find myself without the use of a bicycle. So, one of my primary concerns upon arrival in Paris was getting what I like to call ‘street mobile’. I had thought to bring my bicycle with me from home. At only 30 dollars each way, it was an attractive option price wise yet the logistics of the endeavour dissuaded me. I would have had to spend a good few hours in the bike shop fixing it and upgrading various parts to ensure smooth operation during my stay not to mention somehow navigating the airports at both ends. So, in the end I was left to choose either using the Velib system (a mass bicycle share program on the order of 10,000 bikes distributed around Paris), or finding my own bicycle. Owing to the perverse nature of French bureaucracy described in the previous post, my lack of a French credit card precludes me from Velib so I was left with finding my own bike.
Thanks to some internet research and the helpful hints of some Paris savvy friends I discovered the ‘Marches Aux Puces’. These are basically giant flea markets directly on the outskirts of Paris. My search has taken me to both major ones in Paris and they are indeed an experience that one should not miss while here. Marche Aux Puce Clingancourt was my first stop on Friday. I arrived with the full expectation that there would be lines of bicycles awaiting my inspection. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that the entire place was shuttered tight. No street vendors, and only a select few others open. Turns out that these markets are only open Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Fair enough. My friend and I decided to walk around the 18th while we were in the neighbourhood and passed a nice afternoon discovering Montmartre and sight-seeing at Sacre Coeur. Sorry folks, no pictures (a recurring theme I warn you)!

I woke early Saturday, intent to get a good start on the day. However, seeing rain outside quickly dashed my enthusiasm and I went back to bed. After a few hours I decided to brave the rain anyways and made my way up to Clingancourt again. Once you disembark from the metro you are bombarded by all sorts of vendors selling Dolce & Gabanna and Gucci knockoff perfumes, watches, and purses. I suspect it’s location directly outside the Periphique and the jurisdiction of Paris has something to do with its ability to operate on the fringes of the law. Finally after getting through the throng you find yourself in the maze like market full of vendors selling antique furniture, clothes, and other knick-knacks. My previous outing had yielded knowledge of the location of the one bike shop in the market – what turned out to be a charming little store run by an elderly couple. Their selection left something to be desired and their cheapest bike was 90 Euros. While it was a charming bicycle, perfect for my needs it was far outside my price range. Pressed for time I wandered for another half hour in the maze and wished that I lived here long-term and had many more Euros to my name. The furniture and artwork on display were truly spectacular. One day I’ll buy my own boat, come here and buy beautiful antique furniture and sail it across the Atlantic and sell it in my own boutique in Canada. I’ll become rich!

Turns out that the Clingancourt Puce was the higher end market. My real hopes lay with Montreuil. If Clingancourt had some less than reputable characters Montrueil was downright shady. Recall a Hollywood movie where the heroes walk through a bazaar and see all sorts of characters selling objects of questionable provenience and you have an idea of what Montreuil is like. Shell games and crowded sidewalks crowded with displays of random articles of clothing and electronics spread on blankets crowded with people making their way towards the market itself. Cheap electronic goods, second-hand clothes and shoes make up the bulk of the legitimate vendors. After 20 minutes of making your way through the market you begin to make you way to the real meat of the market. Here, I hoped, lay the fabled 40 Euro bicycles I had heard about. Stopping every now and again we would inquire as to their location and would receive a conspiratorial whisper as they pointed towards the end of the market. Everyone would warn us that they were stolen. It seems that cheapness requires a certain moral ambiguity on the part of the purchaser. Given my precarious situation here, I am choosing to compromise my morals in pursuit of a bargain. I hope that my volunteer work back home has given me a small bank of bike karma to borrow against.

As we got nearer to the end of the market we began to see all sorts of weird things. There were displays of power tools splattered in paint which had been clearly recently liberated from a job-site. There were televisions and assorted electronics, a few scooters and at last – three bicycles! Unfortunately for me, none were my size and they were in relatively poor condition. I suppose I’m too much of a bike snob but the selection really left something to be desired. Thankfully however, we found one for my friend from New Zealand with whom I had come. A few minor adjustments and purchases later her bike was ready to go. Unfortunately, once again I left disappointed. Thankfully however, I was not completely empty handed. We ran into a musician who invited us to come see his band on Wednesday at a tiny bar in the 12th and I am excited. I’ve heard that the Bastille is a very ‘hip’ place and look forwarded to seeing some live music. Besides, there’s always tomorrow! This whole not having a bike thing sure is a good way to discover the city!