{"id":25461,"date":"2015-11-19T09:00:23","date_gmt":"2015-11-19T08:00:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sodwee.com\/blog\/?p=25461"},"modified":"2025-11-10T20:53:04","modified_gmt":"2025-11-10T19:53:04","slug":"like-no-other-city-period-tossed-but-not-sunk-cloud-droppings-from-paris","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sodwee.com\/blog\/2015\/11\/like-no-other-city-period-tossed-but-not-sunk-cloud-droppings-from-paris\/","title":{"rendered":"Like No Other City. Period. Tossed But Not Sunk | Cloud Droppings from #Paris"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Tossed But Not Sunk<\/h2>\n\n\n
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It’s mild out there. Blue skies gracing our daily afternoon routine. The sun sets, breaking away in an absolute beautiful pink delight. It’s around 7pm, I get ready to head out and meet a friend for a drink or two. We meet up behind the ever busy district of Bastille\/Roquette. At Le Motel<\/em> more precisely, quieter, less of a tourist trap. A tiny place, known for it’s chilled atmosphere and cheap Happy Hours drinks along with its infamous after-show parties. It is around half-eight. We chat our minds away for a good two hours. Order drinks along the way. It’s your typical Friday evening ‘Ap\u00e9ro’ session, celebrating the end of the work week with friends, colleagues or family, and of course setting the tone for the weekend ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time we pulled ourselves out of the watering hole. Something struck me : The outside air wasn’t as thick as it was prior to going in. The usually busy neighborhood we were in, was oddly silent, like trapped in its own time, drifting along on the river, moon shining over our heads and reflecting below in the ripple.<\/p>\n\n\n

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I had some time ahead of me. I thought I would leg it to the R\u00e9publique square and from there, walk back up the Canal St-Martin towards my home in the 19th district. I also had my headphones on. Joy-walking to the pot-pourri of new tracks gathered that same afternoon. Like I always do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just before reaching R\u00e9publique, I really notice something visually odd for any urban living souls. The eery, empty streets. No cars. It really marks your mind instantly as if you took a polaroid picture and pinned it on your board. To the point you feel very uncomfortable with your surroundings, even if you’ve been living here for the last three decades. You keep looking both ways before you cross any street. And all you see are the traffic lights flicker from green, to orange in the moisture left on the tarmac. You hesitate, you double take. You finally take the decision to cross. Well, the same false impression you get when you candidly hop-on some random out-of-order mechanical stairs… It topples you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I keep walking. By that time, I finally came across some silhouette in the distance, looking round the corner. From where I was, the figure in the shadow of that street-lamp was abnormally large. I walk up to him. I ask what is going on. He orders : “Go home. Do not stay out here.” And points in the direction I just came from. He’s a fully decked out police officer. Suited from head-to-toe in bullet-proof attire, helmet and gun pointing down the street from Filles Du Calvaire towards Oberkampf metro station, a few metres from the Bataclan concert venue.<\/p>\n\n\n

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This is when I get the text from a long time friend of mine: “Attacks on Paris, Bataclan, turn the radio on dude.<\/em>” Authorities had already cordoned off the whole district, and there was no way I was going to get through the R\u00e9publique with this crazy shit going on. I’m used to walking around in Paris, I eventually found a side street leading to Richard Lenoir \/ St-Ambroise where I could cut across and start climbing up the Belleville district and from there head back down to where I live… I came to the decision to stop by a another friends for a cup of water. And found out there that Le Petit Cambodge \/ Carillon had also been targeted… As well as “La Belle Equipe”. A bar located in the vicinity of the Motel bar where I was earlier that evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ended staying in Rue St-Maur for some time, before once again, legging it back to my flat. Trying to figure out what was happening along the way. I crossed path with no one that night. It was very dark, sharp skies, and beautiful moon above.<\/p>\n\n\n

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I went straight to bed not realizing what had occurred in the very streets I roam every day. The very same bars I like to hang out with friends. In the very same venue I like to see gigs, like many others, I’m sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You will have read plenty of literature on the terror attacks by now. I won’t bore you with any more of my selfish rant. This is only a personal account on these abominable, disgusting and unfathomable events. Something I had to write for myself. I’m safe, sound and alive. I’m just a lucky bastard. I could of been part of the count, easily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One Last Thing Paris:<\/strong> Keep making music, playing it live, and wonderful people of Paris, keep on track. Go out, sit at your favourite terrasse. Get together and plan for future concerts in our brilliant venues…<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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Cue HDR’s (Housse De Racket) – “The Tourist” :<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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