I’ve Moved, Bon Jour & Update
A letter I sent to all of (my friends in) the les Etats-Unis (the United States); completely stripped of all the parts where I make fun of the French just in case any of the French people I know are reading this….
………………..
Bon Jour! Comment ca va? (just practicing)
I’VE OFFICIALLY MOVED TO PARIS!
And they lost my bag between London and Paris (I checked it in London because it got too heavy to carry around)…..something smells fishy in the EU…….
A COUPLE OF REQUESTS FROM YOU.
Can each of you send me your mailing address? Put it in an outlook vcard format if you know how to do that. Also, can you send me one or two of your favorite (and easy) recipes? I cook everyday and I’m already going on round two of recipes that I know off the top of my head.
SORRY TO BLINDSIDE YOU WITH THIS LONG NOTE.
This is a pretty impressive sweep of my Outlook addresses from over the years, but I thought that the update warranted some spam. First of all, big apologies many times over to the friends that I didn’t have a chance to call back and/or had to break plans with over and again. Many who did drive-bys at my place will vouch that I left an apartment for them clean for weeks after I left (especially Patty, Dan, Glo, Reverend Dave, Dennis)……while I was boarding a plane. I couldn’t get myself together before my flight for any kind of leisurely, non-stressful, free time……desolee (that’s French for “sorry”).
PARIS AND JC (le bird).
I just found some time to track down internet access at Starbucks and I’m taking refuge from the rain with their wi-fi access that I had to pay the equivalent of 12 USD for. There’s no free access around here and I tried to hijack some broadband from home, but no such luck; all access is secured. Imagine that. No one owns a computer around here, but the people who do know enough to secure their wireless. The Husband ordered service though, and we should be connected within the next couple of weeks. That’s right; he doesn’t own a computer either. Mon dieu!
I got in on October 27 evening and we picked up JC from cargo in the evening. Hers was a direct flight that landed in Paris at 1pm; mine stopped in London and I got in at 5:30. I thought she’d be a bit freaked out on the flight since she doesn’t know the meaning of “cage” and she flew cargo (that’s right, down with baggage, but in a temperature controlled room on an expensive ticket so wipe the horror from your eyes). My concern was that she’s only ever seen a cage from the outside (hers was a HUGE one at home) and she’s always been in full flight with free reign around my apartment. For the trip, she flew trapped in a tiny cat cage (oh, the irony) for over 12 hours, but seemed to be mentally intact when we picked her up.
Anyway, I thought she’d be devastated, but she’s adjusted fine and pooped in almost every room several times after just a few hours. She’s been banned her from the bedroom, but still The Husband concedes that the women run the house, following the leadership of JC. On a funnier note, he has a shelf that holds his memorabilia from a journey where he managed to find and stayed with a Cheyenne tribe during a cross country US visit years ago. In a ceremony, he was given a large eagle feather that was blessed (?) by the Chief or Shaman or something like that. JC poo-poo’d on that too; the length of the feather out-measures the full length of her body. I had to laugh a little (but respectfully).
When we were at the pet shop buying a cage, Francois completely fell for a baby ring necked parrot and he’s talked about it everyday for the last week. We’ll be going back to get it some time this week, but I’m afraid that JC will terrorize itl, and any other creatures that we bring home because she’s just basically pushy and feisty like that. Must be amour.
Some of you are thinking “wring-neck.” I know who you are and I’m coming back in January (Hunter).
I WAS OUT OF TOWN FOR A FEW DAYS.
On Fri night (Fri morning for you – we’re 9 hours ahead here), we left for a little coastal/port/sailor town called Bretagne (Brrrrittany for you and me) that’s about 4 hours northwest of Paris near Normandy. It’s a cute place, but the local people were slightly trashy (it’s a port town and all). There were small children in smoky bars and a pregnant woman was smoking and drinking and shimmying against the doorjamb, rubbing it with her 7 month belly. Who says pregnant women aren’t sexy? I also met a woman with a front gap in her mouth – one that was the size of a full big front tooth. I just smiled – she was talking to one girl’s boyfriend. She held the cig in the gap when she wasn’t inhaling; not unlike an ashtray slot. Ok. I’m exaggerating a little, nevertheless, I was impressed.
I get smoked out of a lot of places here, but they’re trying to pass a law to ban smoking in public places in the next few days. It’s gone through in Ireland, Italy, and other places as you know, so it’ll probably pass here too (yay), but it’ll be anarchy for the next ensuing years. The only place I’m safe is Starbucks and at home, basically. I’ve pretty quickly forgotten the luxury of breathing while eating in restaurants and have learned to withstand being really, really cold. It’s either suffocate or freeze…….
We went go-karting and at the very end of our 3rd circuit, Francois rammed me into the side really, really, really, really, really, ultra hard and left scars. It was fun.
On a different note, yes there are huge, huge riots, state of emergency declared and curfews imposed, they’re not near our place; they’re in the outskirts of town. Here, there’s Paris, and then everything else is suburb or outskirts.
FRENCH WOMEN ARE THIN, EVERYONE DRESSES UP IN PARIS, and OTHER MYTHS I’VE HEARD.
That they’re especially slim is a fallacy and I don’t care what anyone says. Honestly, I’d say they’re at least normal California-girl sized, and if we supplented each of our meals with cigarettes, we’d probably be much thinner. You should’ve seen how some of these girls polished off their meals at dinner. We work out, they smoke. It’s an even 1-for-1 except that they’re wiping me out, one second-hand-smoke-unfiltered breath at a time.
There’s hardly any active exercise to be found, except for all the walking to and from. When Gloria comes ‘round, we’ll show them what skinny really is. But a day playing pick-up ball on Saturday? Never. Ever. The sports stores here don’t even sell balls, that I know of.
No one dresses up here on a casual day on the street any differently than in the Bay Area except that some may dress nice for work [as in not sweats or cargo pants and beaters…] - something that absolutely no one on this distribution list knows about in the Bay Area). With that said, if you come, bring jeans and comfortable shoes because you’re gonna walk, walk, walk, walk……
The people seem to be pretty nice in general, contrary to all those know-it-all snide remarks about how “the French are so rude.” Depressingly though, not too many smile freely, except the bum who asked me for bread so that wasn’t really free either. BUT I got hooked up with a big Starbucks while I busily typed away (sans smoke). The boy behind the bar came one day and asked if I needed anything, then offered me free coffee AND brought it to me. Yay. I’m going back today. I think he wants to use me for my English (hardly anyone that I’ve met really speaks English well). I’ve resorted to basically handing my wallet over to the cashier at the local supermarche (the supermarket) because I don’t know my numbers yet.
FASHION ALERT STRAIGHT FROM THE FASHION CAPITAL *** Move over material girls, BLACK PANTYHOSE may be the new rage (again) just in case you missed it the first time (Leslie). I’ll let you know in a few weeks after more observation, but I’m fairly certain…..
GOTTA GO.
More individual missives and lots of IM later. (I clearly have some time on my hands). Have to go grocery shopping. There’s nothing even close to Costco here, so we buy a small bit at a time. Toilet paper, for example. Fortunately, they don’t always wipe here so less trips are necessary for big, bulky items like that. Ok. I am Totally. Kidding. That’s A LIE. Please refrain from spreading this rumour, and DO NOT make jokes about my people. I am THE ONLY AMERICAN that you know ,who lives in France, who is allowed to make dirty jokes about the French.
SO WHAT ARE MY PLANS NOW?
Start French classes, finalize my residence papers, and start connecting with some contacts for possible job possibilities. There’s not much TV watching going on because all of our channels are in French, and American shows (Elimidate, for example) are disappointingly narrated over.
LASTLY…
If you have any contacts here for work or otherwise, let me know! Thanks to those of you who’ve already sent me some leads!
Off to buy groceries for the day (and walk back with my laptop on my back and my hands full in the rain……. With no umbrella…)
A bientot, bisous, and chatter soon.