Tour de France Sunday

Tour de France 2012. Rue de Rivoli, Paris

In Paris, there are very few things open on Sundays.  At first, I found this frustrating.  I was ready to use the weekends to run my weekly errands.  The extra time is necessary since, as I said in my other posts, shopping requires going from shop to shop that are often blocks away from each other.  But after of few weeks of being unable to do anything but to relax and enjoy a Sunday, I have decided that this was good practice.  No guilty feeling because I am idle. No lists of things to do running through my head.  Just resign yourself to relax on a Sunday.  It's actually a nice way to live.  The lists will still be there tomorrow.

This Sunday's do nothing outing was to watch the final stage of the Tour de France.  I first thought to make my way to the Champs Elysees which is close to the finish line, but instead I found a nice spot on the Rue de Rivoli across the Tuleries Garden (easier to get home from here).  I read yesterday, that riders would make it to Paris by 3pm, but by 3:30 I over heard someone say that it would be another hour.  I was ill prepared to wait for that long in the hot sun. I brought neither a hat nor water.  I was ready to make a bargain with these guys standing behind me- I would give them money to buy us some water.  Instead, I just kept channeling the former RPCV inside me. I've spent longer than 2 hours without water under the African sun-- although I felt foolish back then too when I left the house without water or a hat....

About 3 o'clock the pageantry started. And by pageantry I mean the parade of vehicles that included sponsors, press, and crew.  It was carnival like.  There were float like things and large images on sponsor cars.  There were cars blaring loud music and people scream things to us in French.  This kept my interest for about 20 minutes, but they are not what I came there to see.

Finally at 4:30, the riders arrived.  Since the race really finished up yesterday, I thought they Paris ride was going to be more casual. For a 'casual' ride, they were peddling faster than I expected. I brought my DSLR camera, but it was not fast enough to capture the riders whizzing by me.  Thankfully they make their way around the route eight times before heading to the finish line. This gives the spectators ample opportunity to get their perfect shot.

Lots of spectators, but still room to move.

Parade before the riders arrive.  Sponsors put weird stuff on their cars.

Mickey is a fan of the Tour de France.

After waiting in the sun from 2pm-4:30pm, the riders finally arrive.

New neighborhoods to explore (for shopping)

L'Opera Garnier - which inspired the Phantom of the Opera

This afternoon was spent exploring the area near L'Opera Garnier in the 9th and la Place de la Madeline in the 8th arrondissment.  As part of my pre-move into the apartment shopping, I decided to find the Zwilling J.A. Henckels shop in the 9th.  Since a good knife is invaluable, I thought this would be one splurge I would allow myself to make.  This shop had every imaginable knife made by Henckel and most professional quality.  They also carried other basic kitchen utensils - whisks, peelers, etc and even pots and cruets.  As you can imagine they all came with a hefty price tag.  The first knife I picked up was a carving knife priced at almost 300 euros.  OK.  Every professional needs their tools. I am not a professional chef, so I put that particular knife back on the display shelf and looked for the everyday/ordinary people knives.  After browsing a bit, I was relieved to discover that even the Zwilling JA Henckel store was having a semi-annual sale.  I found a chef's knife at a price point i could justify to myself. After an hour (getting to the store, browsing, then buying), I had knife.  Living in Paris, you have to really want to buy something to make this much effort.  There isn't a Target where you can go and buy everything you need in one outing.  Here, there is the Henckel store, the Boddom Shop, the shop that sells ceramic dinner plates and glasses, the linen shop.  You want to know why French women are so thin, it's because they have to walk everywhere and lug around their purchases.  I feel my glutes strengthening as I type.

This area was pricey.  It has the items that I need, but I spent as much on that one knife as I did last Thursday when I bought my linens that included a sheet, duvet cover, and two pillow cases.  My hood was more budget friendly.  You still have to go from shop to shop and hunt around, but I think this is where most Parisians do their shopping.  I only saw tourists at the JA Henckel store.

Step 1: Learn the language

The only way to integrate into a new culture is to speak the language.   If you cannot communicate with those around you, you cannot share; you cannot learn; and you cannot connect.  If you do not speak the language there is no way to cross the barrier to move from outside observer to periphery participant. Practically speaking, you also can't sign up for internet or find an apartment (without help). Even shopping can prove to be difficult.

Now that the apartment hunting is over, I decided to concentrate on the next steps- one being learning French.  I had some language skills before moving, which helps, but I really cannot speak French for more than 15 minutes before I get tired.  I still have to concentrate and focus when I am interacting with people and even then sometimes it is not enough.

I know that in order to speak French, I have to speak French. I force myself to go out and talk to people, even if the interactions are only for a few minutes- like the woman who works at the corner boulangerie.  I stop by the shop every morning before work to buy a croissant and to chat for a little bit in French. I found out that she is from Poland. She will go back home for the entire month of August, and that she has a cat that weighs seven kilos (15 lbs!). That is always a pleasant, if not simple, interaction. I have also been shopping to prepare for the move into the new apartment.  I had to learn new vocabulary.  This past weekend it was about bedding:  fils (thread count), orieller (pillow), taie d'orieller (pillow case), drap (sheet), housse de couette (duvet cover), coton (cotton), linge (linen), and laine (wool). Vocabulary is expanding.

Shopping also revealed my weakness in numbers. I have to double the concentration when people are spewing out numbers at me.   The total for the linens I purchased was soixante quatorze vingt. I remembered that numbers above 60 had a formula for its translation. For example, quatre vingt is literally 4 (quatre) 20 (vingt) = 4 X 20 = 80. Quatre vingt translates to eighty. Quatre vingt dix neuf is literally 4 (quatre) 20 (vingt) 10 (dix) 9 (neuf) = 4 X 20 + 10 +9= 80 + 19=99.  So when the women at Linvosge (the linen shop) told me the total was soixante quatorze vingt, in my head I saw 60 + 14 + 20. The 60+14 sounded familiar (soixante quatorze = 74) but the vingt at the end threw me.  It was already the end of a long day, so I just threw in the towel at that point and had to confess that i don't speak french.  The woman took pity on me and told me in English: 74.20. Of course! We would say seventy-four twenty to mean seventy four dollars and twenty cents.    If follows that soixante quatorze vingt, is 74 euros and 20 centimes.  Sigh. I have a long way to go.

I am determined to take advantage of living in France by learning French.  I refuse to be one of those expats who refuse to learn the language and only interacts with other anglophones.  I just need more practice. I tried a few meetup groups, but I found those to have too many anglophones. I spent too much time listening to non french speakers speak French with an accent worse than mine.  They also tended to be well attended by college students who are in France for the summer to learn French.  Someone at work told me about this group called franglish. During franglish events, they pair one francophone with one anglophones and do a speed dating type process where the pairs speak 7 minutes in English then 7 minutes in French and then change partners to do it all again.  I went this evening, and it was actually a good experience.  I got to practice speaking French with a native French speaker.  I also met many interesting people - a mix of young (students) and not so young (professionals).  It met my needs.   An added bonus was that it gave me an excuse to go to the 4th arrondissement this evening.  Seeing Paris at sunset always reminds me why I should feel lucky to be here.

Not dreaming

 I learned this at least by my experiment: that if one advances

confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live
that life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success
unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind,
will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal

laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him. If
you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost that
is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

- Henry Thoreau, Walden

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself where I am.  Sometimes I get helpful reminders, like when I am walking down a random street and the Eiffel Tower appears from behind a building, around the corner, or as I'm emerging from the metro tunnel; or when I have to make an important phone call, and I first have to ask if they "Parlez anglais?"; or when I go grocery shopping and can't  understand why they have fives varieties of cornichons on the shelves but no chicken broth.

There have been some stressful moments since the move, but mostly I feel really lucky.  I am living in Paris.  Thomas and the beagles will be joining me  in less than two months.  My organization is helping with and paying for our move.  Lucky, but not "dream" come true.  More like goal achieved.

Thoreau should have used the word "goal" instead of "dream."  Dream seems distant as something for which you should always strive but should remain just out of reach, because a dream once realized soon becomes ordinary and are no longer sparkly, ethereal, or hopeful.

You chose a goal.  You create a plan and work towards its achievement.  Thomas and I decide we wanted to live overseas. We decided to accept this job offer in Paris.  We never used the words "dream". We never used the word "hope". We knew moving our lives to France was not going to be easy- our network of friends were all state sides, we would have to quickly learn the language, and the French bureaucracy is quiet infamous. Still it was something we wanted, so we created a general plan and checked off items one at a time.

1) Find a temporary apartment for me so I can start my job June 4th (check).  We used the homeway website and found me a nice studio in the 14th arrondissment four days before I left the states.  The owner ended up being super nice and even invited me over for an aperatif a few weeks ago.

2) Start my job (check) and find someone to help us find an apartment (check). We toyed with the idea of finding an apartment on our own. While my french is good enough to comprehend the advertisements, it was not good enough to call a realty agency, ask questions, understand the lease agreement, understand odd behavior of french property owners.

3) Find an apartment we liked (check). My confidence in the success of this item waivered up and down over the last few weeks.  We hired a relocator, so I thought it would be a breeze. But then she hurt her ankle a week before we wanted to look at apartments. We didn't know if she could show us something Thursday (Thomas' last full day in Paris) until the Wednesday before.  We also realized that even though our initial budget for housing was more than ample for the neighborhood, unwritten rental rules on rent to salary ratio and the need for proof of actual (my) income meant we had to decrease our budget by 30%.  All this meant we would see two apartments before Thomas left Paris.  But that was all we needed. We found a nice apartment in the neighborhood of our choice. The next bump in the road was to convince the owner he didn't need to insure us for unpaid rent (note that we aren't insurable b/c we don't have all the needed documents).Apparently, a good lawyer is all the French needs to pay one months rent but stay two years in an apartment.  These games and the fact that it is extremely hard to kick a tenant out, makes it hard for those of us who just want a nice place to stay to get an owner to trust us. It took the director of the realty agency and our relocator to attest to the owner that Thomas and I would pay our rent.  It took two days to get this issue settled.  (The relocator earned her fee at this moment-- I could not have navigated those waters). So today we officially have an apartment. (check)

We've taken some big steps since the beginning of June. Or as Thoreau would say, we moved (are moving) to Paris and now we are working on putting the foundation underneath our "dream".

Now on to the next items on our list: move our stuff from Arlington to Paris; move Thomas and the beagles to Paris;  and many many more steps depending of what else we want to do.

What I've learned from all this it to stop dreaming. Stop talking. And start moving forward.

After taking one step at a time, I found myself here.

X-Pat Perks

After a month of struggling to communicate in a different language and culture, straining to resist temptations of chocolate confections and buttery pastries, and suffering the pains of overcrowded and under air conditioned metros, my month of toil (not really) was rewarded by an invitation to the US Embassy.  Last Friday, the embassy invited all the Americans at my organization for a Happy Hour to celebrate Independence Day. While there were no fireworks (the Happy Hour was in their basement bar), there was Sam Adams, hot dogs, hamburgers, and other Americans. (Interesting facts: The embassy in France was the first diplomatic mission of the United States and Ben Franklin the first Ambassador).

Not surprisingly, the Chancery of the American Embassy is grand.  Located on the Place de la Concorde (see first photo below), its style matches many of 18th century buildings in the 8th arrondissement of Paris.  It was first built in 1768.  It was torn down and reconstructed in 1931, but the building's facade was designed to fit in with the surrounding buildings according to 18th century law.  Another interesting fact:  The Chancery was the last building to be constructed on the Place de la Concorde (source: US Embassy in France)

Place de La Concorde.  Louvre on the left. Eiffel Tower in the back.
American  Embassy  over  my right shoulder.

Guest to the event were detoured through the commissary normally available only to embassy staff. Having left the states only a month ago, I haven't started to really miss American products yet.  And having lived 2 years in a remote African village, I have experience with the idea of adapting or learning to live without.  I could not understand how crazy people were getting over the availability of things like Cheerios, sweet relish, ginormous pickles, Charmins, or root beer.  Some staff have been in Paris for 8... 20 years.  I guess I can see where you could start missing American products after being an expat for that amount of time.

I peeked in people's baskets to get an idea of what their can't live without items were- Big red chewing gum, Altoids, marshmallows, JIF peanut butter, Tabasco sauce, chips and snacky items, Nestles chocolate chips, cake mix, and mayonaise.   With the exception of the cake mix, I question some of the enthusiasm.  Having been shopping every week since getting here, I can honestly say that Paris is a 1st world country.  Not only do they have open air markets, but they have several grocery store chains.  Super markets have things like marshmallows, honey, ramen noodles, and tortillas shells.  There have only been a few items that I wanted to find but couldn't - chicken broth during today's shopping trip.  But I've manage to find most things I've wanted.  I guess if you really like Tabasco sauce or JIF peanut butter or Cheerios and the fake French version just won't do, then you better start making some friends at the embassy.

The actual happy hour was nice too.  The embassy had a thoughtful spread of hamburgers, hot dogs, and pizzas (thoughtful because I cannot honestly say it was tasty).  And walking up to the a bar that had a beer selection of  MGD, Corona, or Sam Adams did make it feel like home.  There was also an additional perk of talking to folks who have lived in Paris for awhile.  I got some good information.  There is a Chipotle in Paris as well as ONE food truck and a banana republic.  The bi-annual sales last for about 4 weeks, and the social group at work has a 10% discount card for two big malls in the city!  I felt like I was absorbing years of information by just listening.

I left the happy hour around 9:30pm, and it was still light outside.  I decided to walk along the touristy Rue de Rivioli (it passes the Louvre) to around the Notre Dame area. From there I can take the bus home.  Walking in the center of Paris always reminds me about how beautiful this city is.  The avenues are wide enough so that you can be on one side of the street and still have a great view of the buildings across the way.

Rue de Rivoli

Louvre in the back. Random carnival rides in the Jardin Tuleries.

Home is where you hang your chapeau

Until this morning, Thomas and I were still not sure where we were going to live once he and the beagles arrive in Paris at the end of the summer.  A major worry since finding housing can be competitive. And finding housing during August when everyone in Paris leaves the town for vacation would be challenging.  With Thomas leaving France tomorrow finding something today was a major objective.  We were not planning to be so last minute, but the re-locator we had hired sprained her ankle last weekend and wasn't well enough until today to take us around.  Instead of showing us some apartments throughout the week, she showed us two this morning.

Thomas and I did some leg work on our own, so that we wouldn't waste the week he was here.  We visited some potential neighborhoods on Sunday.  We toured Garches, Vaucresson, and St. Cloud - all within a 15 minute train ride from Paris.  Of the three, Garches had that French village feel we were looking for.  It had rolling hills, green spaces throughout the town, and a very relaxed ambiance.  Although, the relax feel, may have been the fact that most of its residents had already gone on vacation. I guess we'll see come the fall.  Garches has a big town square and a commercial area with banks, super markets, butcher, bakeries, a creperie and a few restaurants.  The center of town has an old world feel to it.  On it's edges are a mix of more modern apartment blocks and single family homes.  The bi-weekly market is apparently large with expensive but quality products.

We had a small budget because rent was based on my salary alone.  In the states, owners run credit checks on potential renters.  Here in France you have to have documented proof that you will be a good tenant.  I had to have a letter from OECD stating that I was employed there and a statement of my salary.  I needed proof of a bank account, as well as a copy of my passport and visa.  I heard in some cases, landlords also ask for a guarantor - someone responsible for paying the rent in case you cannot.  Hearing all this, it's a wonder foreigners can rent at all in this country.  Since Thomas did not have proof of employment here in France yet, we couldn't use his future salary in figuring out the rent we could afford. It's prudent for sure, but it does limit us- especially in Garches where the residents are certainly not hurting for money and therefore rents are high.

The first apartment we saw was a little on the dingy side.  It was surrounded with lots of green space the dogs would love. It had a terrace and faced the quiet side of the development.  It was however, a bit dark.  Since it was on the ground floor, it felt like a basement- dank, cold and dim.  The buildings were a little run down on the outside.  I'm sure the apartment would be fine once we decorated the place, but it would not have been my first choice... or second, third, or fourth.... On to the next place with fingers crossed that it would be better or at least brighter than the first...

Thankfully, it was indeed.  The apartment we found was just at the end of the town center but still within a 10 minute walk from the main market area.  The building was built in the mid 90s. It is not the stone brick cottage we had envisioned when we first started dreaming about our new life in France, but it still had the tall windows that are indicative to french buildings.  With the entire back of the apartment practically all windows the space is bright.  It has a full size fridge, washing machine, dishwasher, and an oven (!) - amenities you take for granted in the states but are a premium here in France.  The kitchen really sold me on the place.  It's bigger than the kitchen in our place back in the states.  It had a big window where we could easily put a small breakfast table.  The large window in the living room over looked a large, private, well maintained green space.  The bedroom is small, but the living room and bathroom is much larger than what we had back home.  Each room had a window, and  the apartment had windows facing both north and south.   I am very much looking forward to filling them window boxes full of herbs and colorful flowers.  The apartment also comes with parking in the basement of the building.  From the looks of the cars down there (among the six units there was one Mercedes and one very new BMW), I think we have some wealthy neighbors.  Thomas, I think, would have preferred to have a terrace.  We do enjoy eating out on the patio on nice evenings, but the windows in the apartment are so large and open very wide, that it is the next best thing to having a patio (I think so anyway).

We both think we got about 80% of what we were looking for. Given our budget and time frame, I think we did pretty well. Now we are another step closer to transitioning our lives from the US to France.  Finding housing is a relief for sure. It is one more thing we can check off our list. We can now move on to the next step.  The actual move.

Some photos of Garches

The road from the train station to the center of town.

Church at the center of town.

Business district

One of two grocery stores in town.

Market day

One of the benefits of living in Paris is that each neighborhood has a market where farmers from outside the city come into Paris to sell fresh fruits, vegetables, flowers, even fish and seafood.   Most neighborhoods have at least one Sunday market.  My nearest market is about a 20 minute walk from the apartment. Thomas and I decided to see what it had to offer.   Not surprisingly, it was a wonderful experience. The market was small, but it was brimming with so much fresh produce that it makes you question the idea of consuming processed foods.

Shopping at outdoor markets is fun. You are in the fresh air. The fruits and vegetables are bright, and everything is a temptation.   We had to restrain ourselves from buying to much perishable food since there would be little room to store it in my college size fridge.  Our strategy was to buy only what we would consume in the next two days.  We bought a head of frisee for salad that was as large as my head. And then some green beans as tonight's side dish and radishes for Thomas.  I also bought some beautiful orchids that were 1/3 of the price I saw at the florist shop.  Can't wait to sample more in the coming weeks.

Olives and dried fruits

Apples, lemons, and tomatoes.

Carrots and onions.

Peonies!

Fresh Fish

Radishes.

An assortment of fruits and vegetables.

The manly way of carrying the shopping bag.

Corner Bistro

Thomas arrived from his mountaineering expedition in Switzerland/Italy (long story. ask him about it the next time you see him) last night.  Despite the fact that he spent the last few days scaling mountains of 4,000 meters, he still wanted to explore the neighborhood.

At 7pm the sun was still high in the sky. We would have daylight for at least another three hour, so we walked north on Avenue General LeClerc towards the 6th arrondissement.  We got lost through the streets lined with 19th century buildings with modern shops (grocery stores, cell phone boutiques, and restaurants) on their ground floors. Eventually we hit the famous Montparnasse cemetery where famous French elites and intellectuals are buried (as well as Jimmy Hendrix).  I personally find it strange that a place where dead people are buried is a tourist attraction.  Since we were there, we thought we would walk around.  Unfortunately, it does have business hours (8am-5:30pm M-Sa and 9am-5:30 pm Sundays).  We'll have to come back on a different day.

We headed back towards the apartment to find some dinner.  There was this corner bistro (Le Verre Siffleur) I pass on my way home each day. It is always lively and full of Parisians which seems like a sign of a good restaurant.  I was right.  This place had good food and was also a good place for people watching.  Thomas and I enjoyed a bottle of cote du rhone wine that went nicely with our steak au poivre entree.  As we savored our steak cooked a point (medium) we watched couples meeting for a date (one guy surprised his girl friend with a bouquet of flowers - bien fait!.), we saw a women whose date never showed up, and a bunch more Parisians chatting and enjoying the beautiful evening weather.

Not wanting the evening to end just yet, we ordered profiteroles and coffee for dessert.  A good choice.  Three dainty pastries stuffed with vanilla ice cream came out.  A small pitcher full of dark, thick, warm chocolate accompanied them.  It took every ounce of will power to patiently and gracefully eat these decadent delights and not swallow each whole.

We left the restaurant around 10pm and the sun was just about to set on the horizon.  Now I understand why Parisians stay out late socializing and go into work late the next day-  because they can.