To a tamer motorist, the haze of exhaust fumes rising amid a chorus of klaxons on the junction of Rue de Varenne and Rue Bourgogne would denote impossible gridlock. But plumber Manu Mota always finds a way.
”There are plenty of places to park. It’s just that they are not legal,” announces the 57-year-old plumber while he eases his battered white van across the street corner, before parking the front wheels on one pedestrian crossing and the rear wheels on another.
Portuguese-born Mota, who has been defying Parisian road realities since 1971, climbs out of his van and goes into a plumbing supplies shop.
Everyone agrees that driving in Paris has never been as bad as in the past two weeks when roadworks marked by yellow signs seem to have sprung up everywhere.
”The socialists and Greens in the city hall are deliberately making our life hell. I would be happy to pay an annual charge to drive in Paris. It would be tax-deductible for us anyway,” he says to nods of approval from his colleagues in the shop. ”But the mayor and his friends say charges are elitist.”
The radio is playing music but it won’t be long until the next talk show in which motorists — and pedestrians and bus passengers — call in with hellish stories of four-hour journeys from the suburbs, and praise for London’s congestion charge, Strasbourg’s free bicycles and the Dutch idea of motorway express lanes for buses.
Since being elected in 2001, socialist mayor Bertrand Delanoë has embarked on a campaign to cut pollution, build a tramline, broaden pavements and oblige motorists to respect bus and cycle lanes. But while the number of cars in central Paris has fallen by 5% since 2002, their speed has declined by 1% and rush hour has increased by 60 minutes.
City authorities claim Métro and RER commuter rail service use has increased by 15% in the past year. However, the figure is contested by the opposition, which says Métro use is down by 2,8% and the RER had 2,3% fewer passengers in 2003 than in the previous year.
Mota only takes notice of his own statistics — his parking fines: 20 in the first 15 days of 2005, at a rate of â,¬35 (R276) each.
It will probably get worse for him this year: following the introduction of speeding radars on the périphérique ringroad two years ago, closed-circuit cameras will be installed next month on the Champs-Elysées. This year, 6 000 parking spaces will be scrapped in central Paris.
He is particularly scathing of the ”Lustucru” — his nickname for the increasingly numerous traffic police who wear blue-and-yellow uniforms in the same shades as the packaging of a popular brand of pasta.
In Rue de Varenne, which is lined with ministries and therefore police, Mota’s Fiat van gets away without a fine, only to be diverted moments later down a side street by a vigilant Lustucru.
”The traffic police near the ministries think they are God’s gift and that everyone in a white van must be a suicide bomber. Bande d’abrutis [morons],” he mumbles before being distracted by a call on his cellphone. It’s a happy customer, Mme Clément. He is so thrilled that he jumps a red light on Boulevard Saint Germain.
Heading over the Henri IV bridge towards his next call in the Marais district, Mota points out that even cyclists are fined for using bus lanes.
”Ridiculous,” he says. ”Especially since police cars use the lanes with abandon, even when they are not on an emergency call. And have you ever seen a French police car stop at a red traffic light?”
Nevertheless, he concedes: ”Something has to be done about the private cars in Paris. They all have just one person in them, the driver. The French are so individualistic that they do not even want to share the air they fart into with other people.”
In Rue Aubriot, where a toilet flush needs replacing, there is no parking — even for Mota. But a pedestrian crossing is available in a nearby street. Mota takes his ignition key with him but leaves the van unlocked.
Twenty minutes later, while Mota is up to his elbows in the Rue Aubriot lavatory, two men in a passing dustcart know the drill: they open the door, release the handbreak, give the van a push and drive their own vehicle past.
”Ordinary people aren’t the problem. They realise that they, too, go to the loo and may need a plumber one day. Pedestrians also never seem to mind that I park on the crossings. It’s the police who are the problem,” he says.
Denis Baupin, the Green Party deputy mayor, insists the traffic policies are in the best interests of all lavatory users.
”Paris, London, Berlin and Barcelona all see the problem the same way. We have realised that we have let things slide for 40 years and that it is time to give our cities back their public transport systems. It is a health issue,” he says.
”The difference between us and London is that more people live in the centre of Paris. We consider toll systems to be segregationist and unfair towards commuters from the suburbs. So we have made the choice to give more space to pedestrians and bicycles.
”Most Parisians do not have cars and, as for your plumber, what we are doing will be to his benefit in the long run.” — Guardian Unlimited Â