Paris: Rue Des Boulets

Rue des Boulets

“… in our two room flat that had no hot water and inside toilet facilities except an antiseptic portable container that was not uncomfortable to anyone who was used to a Michigan outhouse, but which was a cheerful gay flat with a fine view and a good mattress and springs for a comfortable bed on the floor, well and tastefully covered, and pictures that we liked on the walls, I told my wife about the wonderful place I had found.”  

                        Ernest Hemmingway A Moveable Feast, 1964

  It was to Rob’s great satisfaction that he was able to book online an unbelievably affordable flat located in the centre of Paris ($30 per night). The advertisement’s title indicated “A Lovely Flat in the Heart of Paris”, and was the accompanied by pictures displaying hardwood floors leading to a window opening to “A beautiful vista view of Paris that includes the Eiffel tower”. C’est parfait!

            Getting to the lovely flat from Charles De Gaul International Airport involved obtaining a ticket for the RER B train to Gare De Nord, finagling a phone call to our hostess at a network provider store, and taking two subway trains until we reached the final Metro station Rue Des Boulets.  The metro exit emerged by escalator to the intersection of Avenue Voltaire and Rue des Boulets.  A boulets, one learns from reading A Moveable Feast, is an egg-shaped form of pressed coal dust that in days past was heated in coal stoves or boilers. 

 

The street itself was pleasantly lined with tall manicured linden trees, some in full fall canopy while others in slow decay. The shops that occupy the street fronts were typical of most Parisian neighbourhoods - small grocery markets, butcher shops, cafes and restaurants, tobacco shops, and bakeries. The moderate pedestrian traffic included a diverse population comprised largely of Jewish, African, Middle Eastern, and native French or European descent.  Populating the subway entrances and busy storefronts were the gypsy vagrants who held out their hands to passerbys for spare change.

Directly across from the metro stop was our host, Silvana - a four-foot tall, olive skinned woman in her mid-forties. Silvana, as described by past tenants, was both friendly and helpful. With the guidance of a primary teacher, she sequentially walked us through the security features required to enter the seven story, white facade building with iron railed balconies topped by a black metal roof. An embedded security chip opened both the immense, ornate wooden outer doors, and the subsequent, and equally immense, inner door. The marble-floored foyer opened to a staircase and a vintage caged Otis elevator. The oak paneled, coffin-sized elevator, was large enough to carry only a single rider with one suitcase comfortably. Rob carried two.  With one look at the lift Beth readily volunteered to climb the stairs that spiraled around the perimeter of the elevators’ cage with Silvanna.  Beth met Rob at the sixth floor where the elevator terminated and together carried the luggage up the remaining twenty steps to the seventh floor.

The seventh floor was comprised of one long central musty hallway with floors constructed of long, age worn, hardwood planks with the water closet and the cold water faucet that spilled into a vintage basin, calcified and corroded with age, located at the west end which was closest to our room. The brick red, interlocking tiles on the floor of the water closet alluded to a day when the building must have been quite grand. Today, after many years of neglecting cosmetic features, the remains of ancient peeling paint, incomplete patch work plaster repairs, and copper pipes emerging to display upgrades of the building’s old vasculature can be seen. Oddly, the newer and well-maintained toilette appeared out of place, but thankfully made the bathroom area quite functional and acceptable for the residents of the three roof-top apartments.

            Double door security was once again required to enter our rental flat. The outer door, worn with decades of damage, opened to a tiny foyer lined with peeling pink and orange vintage print wallpaper depicting women at a beach with parasols, old model T automobiles and steam ships.  The inner door, which contained a sturdy bolt lock that required a three-dimensional key, opened to a small half-hexagonally-shaped, white-walled room that contained three main fixtures - a bar fridge, a shower stall, and a sofa bed, the latter placed on a taupe shag carpet likely added to protect the worn wooden floors from further damage. Other minor amenities included a modified bar table cut to fit a hexagon corner space, one folding chair, a vacuum cleaner, and a three-level wire rack holding a few cleaning products and some cookware. Although we felt it could use a little cleaning, the room was quite functional for its minute size - measuring a mere 12 feet at its longest point. Beth laughed at the ease with which Rob was able to stick one cold foot into the fridge at one side of the room, reach a hand into the shower at the other end while lying across the sofa. The most redeemable feature of the room was the window, which swung open to reveal a grand view of the district, and, when one peered carefully to the west, the tip of the Eiffel tower could be seen.

 

            After Silvana handed over fresh sheets and towels at the agreed-upon fee of 20€, she inquired if all was in order before leaving until meeting again in one week for the pick up of the room key.