The smell of the Métro

The Paris subway - the Métro - isn’t just where every Parisian spends on average 15-20 hours every month. It’s a full, multi-sensorial experience.

And it has a very distinctive smell, which seems to run along the rails of all fourteen subway lines.
It’s an odd mix to say the least..

It's the breath of a million people,

It’s the wet hair of the women who just showered, and the sweat of the men who didn’t have the time to. Those guys are easy to spot, they are also trying to comb their hair in their reflection in the window;

It’s the too-sugary perfume of the college girls, laughing loudly as they chatter the distance away;

The strong coffee from the travel coffee cup with the guy in a suit - the cup he brought home from his semester in the US: the French aren’t into taking their coffee to go;

The Romanian homeless guy, smelling like smoke and dust, who just stepped in, intoning his habitual ‘bonjour-messieurs-dames-desolé-de-vous-déranger... une-petit-pièce-ou-un-ticket-restaurant...’;

The cheap ink of all the free newspapers people read to pass the time of the long ride, and which they often leave on the seat before getting off, just like... a newspaper on a train! Yet they take them, sometimes - either because their job is less interesting than a subway newspaper, or they want to take it home for the televisions listings on the back page;

Maybe even a hint of pheromones from this young couple diligently kissing - the 'public' in PDA is taken very seriously around here. Most memorable were the couple kissing - nay, making out, inside the Notre Dame cathedral.. ;

Oh, and some spilt beer from yesterday’s late night commuters. A green bottle might even roll from under the seats and hit your foot as you sit; you’ll look down, raise your foot, and let the bottle continue its trip to the other side of the carriage, until the train stops and it goes rolling all the way back again;

And it’s the captive mass of air renewed only by giant ventilators, and those industrial air fresheners which, rather than neutralizing the smells, add to the entire olfactory mélange.

God, I really hate this city.