Torrey Orton
June 15, 2013
Ambling down a street in the old city part of Gap, France, a spot literally in a gap between two 2000 metre plateaus on the edge of the Parc des Ecrins to the east and the Vannoise to the west, I noticed a delivery truck pull into a two-car (two little European city cars, that is) space carved into the pathway of what was otherwise a one-way one lane road between 18th century buildings.
No big deal, until I noticed that
the 1.2 metre high pole next to the space had turned green at the top and a
countdown had started from 15:00 on a visual display about 10 cm down the pole.
So, I thought, this is what Melbourne City Council is threatening us with their
‘you will be remembered from the moment you park your car’ in the streets of
Carlton, East Melbourne and so on. That is, they can tell when you arrived.
However the Gap treatment was even more sophisticated because the broadcast timekeeper
is visible from 200 metres away down the road to the next cross street so the
touring forces of parking order can detect an overstay in a flash (and I bet
the touring forces can do the entire inner city circuit of such short term stopspots
in about 15 minutes guaranteeing the best rate of return for investment on two
counts: more money and better access to short term parking for those needing
it).
A clear social boundary drawn?
Watching the passing human parade
is always interesting, especially when it is not too dense so that the manner
of an individual’s or small group’s (couple, family , friends) passing can be
observed clearly while also un-intrusively. Again in Gap, France, we were
having our street café lunch (great fresh salads by the way) before entraining
for Besancon via Grenoble and Lyon. I noticed a single woman encountering two other
women, one of whom she knew well (broad smile and gestures from a reasonable
distance before their paths actually crossed). The acquainted two did the three
kisses greeting characteristic of French signs of greater (and, implicitly,
lesser) expressions of intimacy. The accompanying, unacquainted, one was
excluded, de facto, from the greater intimacy of three kisses and the lesser intimacy
of two or even one. She got none, and when, almost as an afterthought, was
introduced to the solo woman neither offered a hand nor was offered one in
hello.
They were too far away for me to
see if there was any non-verbal expression of rejection which constituted the
determination of intimacy distance as total, apart from the fact that they were
facing each other. And an implicit rejection was recognised by neither offering
any acknowledgment of the traditional types to each other.
We do not have a word in English
for someone whose role is to be excluded without being acknowledged by the
players or observers in a specific social event at this level of simplicity and
brevity. I don’t know whether French does or not. The fact was quite visible
but difficult to describe because a number of relationship factors have to be
captured without the relationship indictors to place all the actors.
I realised after writing this that I
was attuned to such matters by the hostess of our Mercantour stay who insisted
on two kisses on both meeting us for the first time and on our departure. For
me this was inappropriate for two reasons. One, she isn’t French, and two I’m
not inclined to kiss anyone I do not know, male or female, French or other, on
first hellos anyway. Probably something
about the remaining edges of my Anglo upbringing where no one kissed anyone, in
public anyway …?
Hotel de Police
Later the same day we were on the
train again towards the north from Grenoble and closing on Lyon for a transfer
to the TGV for the last step of our day’s travel. I like to keep loose count of
the inactive business facilities visible from passing through the rail yards of
cities. The industrial histories of the last couple hundred years are often to
be read in their architectures and utilisation rates. One kind of utilisation
is incarceration, often signalled by multiple levels and styles of razor wiring
of the tops of walls, confirmed by lighting towers and guard posts in case the
real use seems open to interpretation. Other semi-secure facilities make a pretence
of looking like this but there’s always gaps in their razor wires.
I noted the real use before I read
the title over the somewhat elaborate gate: “Hotel de Police” in large
lettering. This confirmation was a bit much for my linguistic capacities again.
I went for the implicit joke until Jane reminded me that ‘hotel’ in French has
a seriously more diversified history than our adapted version of the same term,
as in Hotel de Ville for a major local government establishment – certainly not
an English usage but very French. Have a look at the Hotel de Ville in Paris
for a reminder.
Still, the Lyon prison Hotel de
Police! It looked in quite functioning shape, and had been for a century or so.
