Paris, metro, sounds

A tube train, in motion, often gives a good aural impression of some kind of metal-beating workshop, or a particularly discordant performance by Einsturzende Neubaten. The Métro doesn't exactly a whisper, but the rubber tyres and so forth make it possible to talk, etc. So the passenger is more aware of sound.

Where in the Code Penal is it written that buskers and beggars must populate the Etoile-Nation line in greater numbers than all the others combined? Not frequenting jazz clubs etc, I'd never before been exposed to the noise of a double bass (plucked rather than scraped) at close range - it's impressive, you can almost feel the sound on your outer clothing. Must be a nuisance to get through the ticket gates, esp. if not paying the fare.

I need to understand sound better. I still don't understand the Doppler effect, or why clock tower chimes get carried by the wind and if it's a strong one from the west I can be waiting in bed for eight to strike for ten minutes before I realise it has been and gone. If two notes are put together, surely they're indivisible? But there are definitely two on the Métro door closing warning alarm, presumably to make it more distinctive, or simply more interesting to the ear. There must be something independently uneven in each. Reminiscent of a wind and string collaboration, and preferable to the usual bleeping.

Next station announcements are being introduced. Levallois-Gallieni has them, not sure about the rest. The station name is announced first on an ascending note as a question, then as a statement with decisive emphasis. Tentative, then confirmatory. Invitation, then welcome. As if to say: Anyone for St Maur? Well, here it is take it or leave it, St Maur! Or: Is this Parmentier approaching? Yes, Parmentier, of course!

Not a jarring voice either. Compare to the woman who calls out the station on our own Jubilee Line, in such an inappropriately celebratory way 'The next station is: Neasden!' clearly demonstrating that the person who recorded the message has never actually alighted at Neasden in their lives, or she would not sound so bizarrely pleased about it. Though Mme. Ligne 3 probably makes even Porte de Bagnolet sound inviting, rather in the manner that mermaids once called to mariners 'Not rocks, but pillows! Big fluffy cushions! And we're not all scaly below the navel, honest!'