It must have been week of full moons because there were some crazy stuff happening. Sometimes I chalk up the weirdness to being in France (like trying to order pizza on line from
Web Pizza only to find out you can only call in your order-- happens a lot here). Other times, I think that life is full of strange happenings. At least we have stories to tell.
Story #1.
After a lovely day trip to Chateau de
Rambouillet (an official residence for the President of France), we took Molly and Scout on their evening walk. We meandered through Garches and ended up at the Marie (mayor's office). It's one of the few public places with grass, so we often take the dogs there. As we were exiting to leave, a cute, little
boston terrier who was off leash started sniffing the beagles. Dogs off leash are quite common here, but usually the owner is within view. This dog was not fixed and was in heat, so he would not leave Scout alone. Scout wanted none of it. It was the first time I saw her show here teeth. It was clear that it was time to go home. But how do you control a dog not on a leash? Well, you don't. We left the park, and the little terrier followed. We even tried to close the park gate, but the little fellow pushed his way through. No owner in sight. No tags on the dog. He seemed to be lost.
We thought the dog was the one we often see behind the gate of this house near our apartment. Thomas was convinced that this was the same dog. We knew the Boston terrier would follow the beagles, so we thought we would try to get him home. The half mile seemed like a hundred. I was a little fearful of the little dog walking without a leash on the narrow sidewalk as cars went whizzing by (I think the french drive too fast on the residential roads). Fortunately, he was well trained and knew where to walk.
Twenty minutes later, we get to the house. Thomas was about to open the garden door to let him back in but I thought it wise to ring the bell at the front of the house first. Good thing we did, because as we turned the corner, the dog that we thought was lost came running to fence. It was clear now that the dog we took from the park was not the dog from this house. Oops. The new plan? I would take Molly and Scout back home and Thomas would take the dog back to the Marie hoping the owner would spot him.
Long story short, Thomas dropped the little guy off back where we found him. But as I met up with Thomas as he was walking back home, I saw the little dog following him about 20 meters behind. We tried taking him to the Gendarmerie (Garches' police), but the station is closed on weekends -apparently no crimes happen in town on Saturdays and Sundays. Thankfully, we ran into our upstairs neighbors in the town square. They offered to house the dog until the next morning when the veterinarian would be able to determine who this little guy belonged to.
It all ends well. The next day, they went to vet. With a little chip implanted in the dog, the vet found the address of the owner- a grandmother who lives near the Marie. Her grandkids where visiting. When they left, the little dog escaped trying to find them.
Story #2
April 15th (tax day) is looming. Because of the complication of our situation, we decided to get some professional assistance. We found a tax adviser in the 16th arrondissment. Nothing out of the ordinary about that.
The 16th is full of
Haussman style buildings. When you think of Paris, you are thinking of these buildings. Charming? Yes. Originally built with modern conveniences? No. It is quite common that people have to walk up tall flights of stairs. Sometimes they retro fit small (4 persons) elevators as was the case Tuesday evening.
As the door of the glass elevator closed behind us, I heard a harsh crack- not something you want to hear while you are in an elevator. It was only two flights up. When we got to the second floor, the elevator door did not open. We tried going back down to the ground floor; up to the third hoping was something wrong with the second floor an not the elevator itself- no such luck. We called the tax accountant on my cell. He tried helping us from the outside, but couldn't get the door open either. Thankfully my French was good enough to tell the operator who answered after pushing the elevator emergency button our situation. Forty minutes and two elevator employees later, we were freed. That will be the last time I take an elevator in Paris.
The trip to Ramboulliet was pleasant. We did this via a meet up. The people were nice. The chateau itself is only worth visiting during the first Sunday of the month when its free.
Photos from Ramboulliet
