That’s it. I’m deleting Uber from my phone as soon as I find another decent ride app. It’s not bad enough that you check to see how much a trip is, and if you don’t order it right away, and return to the app a minute later, they’ve already raised the price by a couple euros because of what they call surge pricing, which apparently means that your own demand forces your own price higher.
This morning we had to go to the dentist, ordered a car, waited patiently as the tiny icon inched forward on the tiny map. But just as it showed the Uber had arrived—was even setting off for our destination!—I was still swiveling my head around looking for our ride. That’s when I got the notice that it had been cancelled, and the tiny little car disappeared from my screen.
Why?! The guy was right in front of us! So it had to be something he saw. Which was what exactly? Two ladies in masks? One with white hair? And when I tried to order a new ride, the price had doubled from 13 something to 26, 27 euros. Fuckers. That’s not surge. That’s evil. I hope unmentionable things happen to them all, the driver, the kings of the algorithms who prey on desperate people. And yeah, I know Uber isn’t exactly ethical with their own drivers, yada yada yada. Still, it’s no reason to turn around and screw someone else.
Waiting for Uber meant we missed the bus alternative and we were tempted for a moment to pay the 27 fucking euros, but we couldn’t make ourselves, and instead hustled the block to the tramway, and after shoving our way on there and riding a few stops, limped to our bus transfer and took that for a while, finally managing to arrive in that tiny window of lateness which guarantees—if not a warm welcome—at least an indifferent one.
Fucking Uber. May you rot in hell.
In other news…
There was only one sunny day last week, and of course it was when I had an ophthalmologist appointment. Which meant I spent all afternoon blinking and cursing at the light with enormous drugged-out pupils while I tried to get stuff done. Like pick-up translations that I need for the citizenship application I’m finally going to mail off before they hold another election and change the rules—again.
That makes me happy, anyway, the idea of joining the club of this country, especially after they trolled AP for their idiotic style declaration…
That subtweet was apparently provoked by the big LOL from the “Embassy of Frenchness in the U.S.”
The whole thing turned into a general free-for-all, with everyone mocking everyone, including people experiencing Frenchness. Also, “Washington Post columnist Megan McArdle joked: “The people experiencing journalism at the AP have their work cut out for them.”
To get on with my story, Parisians, or one parisienne, anyway, took pity on me. When she saw me standing there in the subway with my eyes squinched closed, she insisted that I take her seat. Probably she was afraid I was sick and would keel over on top of her. I might have. The light gave me a migraine. It was too hot in my wool sweater, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my face. It was a miracle I got out of there without puking.
All of which to say, that after I picked up my documents at the translation place, I couldn’t face descending into the metro again, and so decided to walk for a while.
I started over near chic park Monceau, crossed the train tracks and followed the boulevards east, staring at Sacré Coeur in the distance. Just past Place de Clichy, I veered a little south and east onto the Boulevard de Clichy, and found myself in front of the Moulin Rouge, not to mention a couple dozen sex shops.
After that I turned down rue des Martyrs, mostly because I like to walk on that any chance I get just for the name alone, then took Victor Massé to Condorcet, and from there trudged down Magenta to République where after a mere 15,000 or so steps I decided I could safely take the subway.
Here are a few never-before-seen photos from my trajectory.
Doing Their Part
Ismail Mashal: Taliban arrests Afghan professor who backed girls' education
A former journalist, Prof Mashal ran a private university in Kabul which had 450 female students studying journalism, engineering, economics and computer science - all courses the Taliban's education minister said should not be taught to women because they are against Islam and Afghan culture.
When the Taliban announced in December that female university students would no longer be allowed back to study until further notice, Prof Mashal closed his school completely, saying "education is either offered to all, or no one".
A defiant man, he has promised not to stay silent on the matter, even if it costs him his life. Video of the moment he tore up his own academic records on live television went viral.
That’s it for this time.
Disgruntledly yours,
xoxo K