Melanie and I took our first French lesson on Wednesday, with a perky Parisian named "Julie". We will get together every Monday and Wednesday for two hours, and let me tell you, the lessons are sorely needed. Although we have managed to get by okay without knowing the local language there have been several communication issues, especially at our apartment.
Fortunately, Google makes a wonderful tool called "Translate" that can translate text, audio, and even pictures from one language into another.
Google's "Translate" tool works pretty well... but not all the time
The owner of our apartment (technically our "landlady", though I don't think they use that term here), doesn't speak any English, so when she came over the other day to oversee the installation of our replacement Washer/Dryer, I talked Melanie into using the audio feature of Translate to communicate with her.
It did not go well.
The phone was set on French/English and theoretically it can simply translate anything it hears in either language into the other... automatically. Unfortunately, there were so many people talking that I think it got confused. So while we were trying to thank everyone for the installation of our new washer/dryer the phone was babbling about the "wild stallion under the mattress". Thanks, Google Translate. That was helpful.
A week or so later, while I was in Ibiza, some workers came to our building to fix the plumbing. One of them came upstairs to look at our radiator and since he spoke no English Melanie grabbed her phone and asked a question. She turned it around so the worker could hear the question in French, but instead of responding he just got a shocked and sort of hurt look on his face. Melanie looked down at her phone and was horrified to learn that she had asked: "Do you have Alzheimers?"
Yep, it's a good thing we're starting French lessons.
Pretty Simple called me while I was still living in Seattle to find out what activities I wanted to do on the company outing to Ibiza, Spain. When I saw that one of the morning options was "Kayaking" I thought, "Sure, that sounds nice!" I imagined a dawn jaunt across a perfectly still bay, my kayak gliding slowly and silently through the gentle water, a school of dolphins playfully following me while birds circled gracefully overhead.
Nope, not even close.
The kayaks were all two-seaters and my new Australian friend, Steve, kindly offered to pair up with me... a decision I'm sure he came to regret many times over.
We managed to get into the kayak without tipping it over but I discovered that there was very little back support, and after only ten minutes my back and abdomen muscles were wailing like banshees. As with Gilligan I had signed up for a two hour tour. Super! (Didn't mean that superlative.)
Although the torture journey started in a quiet bay, we passed through it quickly and headed into the open ocean.
These were our medieval torture devices kayaks
Our dominatrix guide reminded me of a blonde version of Miss Trunchbull (from the film "Matilda"). She had arms like tree trunks and was completely fearless, leading us right next to and between rocks, as waves crashed around us.
Our guide was built like a German Shot Put Champion
To relieve some of the pressure on my back I pulled my feet towards my body but this raised my knees in the air and I kept smacking them with the damn oar, which was so distracting I had a hard time keeping rhythm with Steve, who was in the front of the kayak. He kept repeating, patiently, "It helps if we row together."
I kind of lost track of the time, but after nearly an hour we rowed into a sort of secluded area. I told Steve, "If she's just going to row in there and come back we should stay here and wait for her." The other guide, who was apparently responsible for stragglers (i.e. us), yelled for Miss Trunchbull to stop. She did and I was kind of amazed by how quickly she was able to row back to us. Not tired at all. The guides jabbered at each other in Spanish and I'm pretty sure he was saying that the sweaty old guy was very tired, and she was saying, "I don't care."
In broken English she finally managed to convey to us that there was a nice beach up ahead and we could rest there for a few minutes. So off we went.
When we reached the sand Steve hopped gracefully out of the boat. Me... not so much. There was very little strength left in my legs and when I finally managed to stand a miniscule wave hit me and I tumbled backwards into the water. I was too tired to be embarrassed.
It was a pretty little beach. Wish we could've stayed there for another two or three days, but Miss Trunchbull had us back in the water after about ten minutes.
Steve pulled the Kayak into the ocean while I pretended to help, then he climbed in easily. I stumbled into the boat and promptly tipped us over. Crap. We tried again and this time, thankfully, we stayed upright, which was a good thing because I was pretty sure I didn't have the strength to try again.
Steve started to row and I attempted to follow his lead. Except we weren't moving. Had I completely lost all strength in my arms??? Nope, while Steve's end of the boat was floating in the water, my end was stuck in the sand. No, no, no, no. I rowed harder.
"Uh, John, we're grounded. You need to get out."
Not this sailor. I pushed on the sand. Then I desperately tried to dig some of the sand out from under the sides of the boat using my oar. Please... please... don't make me stand up again.
"John, you have to get out of the boat, buddy."
MERDE! (That's a bad French word.)
I painfully pushed myself out of the kayak and helped Steve move it further away from shore. Not sure how I did it, but I fell into my seat without knocking both of us into the water again. Now all I had to do was find the strength to row for another hour to get back home. Ugh.
Honestly, the rest of that trip back was just a blur of pain, fatigue and nauseau. More than once I had to stop while Steve, in the front of the kayak with his back to me, kept rowing. Sometimes I would splash the water with my hand and make a grunting noise to make it at least sound like I was doing my part.
Steve was getting pretty tired, too, which could explain why we kept zig zagging. We'd start drifting to the right so we'd row on just one side until we were going straight again. Then we'd start drifting to the left. I just wanted to go home and we were having to row twice as far because we couldn't keep the damn kayak going in a straight line!
After an eternity we were back where we started. I used the last of my strength to stand up and we trudged back to the shop to drop off our life jackets and other gear. My knee was bleeding from whacking it so many times with the oar. Didn't even feel it.
For lunch we walked over to a thatched roof hut on the beach and had an authentic Spanish BBQ. (Pretty Simple took care of everything.)
We had a BBQ lunch here -- it was sooooo gooood!
They had corn, sausage, chicken, beef and more... cooked over this open fire
The owner was super friendly and he enthusiastically encouraged me to try a thick dark sausage, rattling off a name in Spanish that I didn't understand and don't remember. I was too exhausted to question him so I just nodded.
After a few minutes he brought out some fennel bread, an ice cold beer, and some of the cooked meat. (He included a spicy sausage and some chicken.)
Sausage, chicken, and a bread with garlic and fresh tomatoes. The cold beer was indescribably good.
As the owner said, the large sausage was fantastic. I had finished about half of it when Steve sat down across from me. (Glad to see he was still talking to me.) "Hey, cool. You're eating one of my favorite foods ever. Blood sausage."
Say what now???
To be honest, I've always wanted to try blood sausage but I wasn't aware that I had already started. It's basically congealed blood mixed with a filler and some spices, then pumped into a sausage casing. It wasn't too bad! Or maybe I was just too damn tired to care.
I thought I had signed up for snorkeling in the afternoon, but it was an intro to SCUBA diving instead. Wasn't sure how the mixup happened until I recalled our Skype conversation while I was in Seattle:
PRETTY SIMPLE (thick French accent)
For afternoon activity you choose plongee?
ME
Plongee? What's that?
PRETTY SIMPLE
Uh... go in water... uh... like swimming...
ME
Snorkeling? Do you mean snorkeling?
PRETTY SIMPLE
What's this "snorkeling"?
ME
You swim underwater with a tube thing, so you can breathe.
PRETTY SIMPLE
Ah, yes, plongee.
ME
Sure, sign me up for that!
Except plongee means SCUBA diving. Okay, that would explain the mixup...
I enjoy snorkeling but I have never been that excited to dive, and since every muscle in my body was aching I just went back to the room and spent about two hours in my Jacuzzi. Ahhhhhhhhh...
That night we took a bus into Ibiza for a tour of the 500 year old Citadel. It was breathtaking.
Dalt Vila is also known as High Town. The massive walls were built in the 16th Century.
After our tour we had dinner at one of the most famous clubs in Ibiza: "Pacha". We were served sushi, some delicious gyoza, and then a teriyaki steak for dinner.
The teriyaki style steak at Pacha was good
After our fine meal many folks stuck around to enjoy the club. Pretty Simple had buses running back to the hotel every hour starting at midnight until 5:00 AM. (Longer, actually, because there was a time change in the middle. So the 2:00 AM bus ran twice!)
It was too dark in the club to take any pictures, so I just listened to the music while my pant legs vibrated in time with the very loud bass beat.
I headed home at about 1:00 AM and when my head hit the pillow I almost instantly fell into a deep sleep.
Or at least I tried to sleep. No sooner had I closed my eyes than my phone began to vibrate. I picked it up and saw a message from Melanie:
MELANIE(TEXTING)
Are you back yet?
ME(TEXTING)
Yes. Beyond tired. Love you. Night.
I shut off the phone and laid back. ZzzzzzZZZzzzzz.
BZZZT! BZZZZT!
MELANIE(TEXTING)
Did you have fun? Do you have your wallet?
ME(TEXTING)
Yes and yes. Will tell you more tomorrow. Night!
I put the phone back on the nighstand.
BZZZT! BZZZZT!
I tried to just sleep, but that vibration sound is like hearing your baby cry. It's impossible to ignore.
MELANIE(TEXTING)
Are you angry with me? I'm sorry.
ME(TEXTING)
Not angry. Just tired. Signing off.
I turned the phone off completely and fell asleep.
After a complimentary breakfast on Day Two people kept asking me if was going to do "cat cat". Had no idea what they were talking about until I remembered that I had signed up for a 4x4 tour of the island. (The number "four" in French sounds a bit like the word "cat". Hence "cat cat".)
I climbed into the back seat of the rickety jeep and our driver (one of Pretty Simple's investors, who joined us on the trip) fell in line behind our Spanish guide in the jeep ahead. There were probably six or seven 4x4's in total. Sort of a game company convoy.
After about a 40 minute drive across the island we stopped by the side of the road to take a break. Our guide talked about the island for a few minutes (the population is 150,000 -- except during peak season when it balloons to well over a million), then he told us a story about his mother. He said she's not very smart so he wanted to send her a video of everyone doing a silly dance. Apparently, he thought that seeing a bunch of diverse multicultural goofballs strutting around like chickens and singing a wacky song would make her giggle.
Okay, that was pretty funny... Apparently, I'm not very smart either.
After we got back on the trail we were having a great conversation with the investor about game stuff when we suddenly realized that the Spanish dude's jeep was nowhere to be seen. We were at a fork in the road and let's just say that we took the road less traveled... by our guide.
Yep, he went left and we continued on straight ahead. Took us about ten minutes to realize that we were no longer following him, then we spent another ten minutes getting turned around. (I've seen locomotives with a tighter turning radius than that damn jeep.)
We eventually caught up with our leader and he lead us to a beach, where we met up with the rest of the company.
The beach was nice -- I forgot that it's okay for women to go topless here so that was sort of a... surprise...
Pretty Simple had arranged a lunch for the whole company. The food was good but I was sort of disappointed by the Paella. I think the one I made at home earlier this year was better. That said, some of the appetizers were good, as was the berry cheesecake.
I don't think I've ever eaten at a table that was right on the sand
The calamari and other appetizers were very good... as was the beer!
After lunch those of us who signed up for the afternoon Jet Ski adventure walked over to the rental stand and put on life vests. A lot of my fellow employees put on wet suits, too, but I was pretty warm already so I just kept my clothes on. The seas were pretty calm and I didn't get that wet. Turned out to be a good choice as I was quite comfortable.
Holy crap, the Jet Skis were a blast! Definitely going to do that again when I get the chance!
We headed back to the hotel and had another scrumptious dinner. Wish I had some pics but my battery was dead. Now I can start working on DAY THREE in Ibiza.
Got back from the company trip to Ibiza last night and the adventure surpassed my wildest dreams.
This is my face every day now
I've had so many wonderful experiences in Paris that I feel like I've used up my allotment of "awesomes" and "incredibles" and "stunnings" for the next several years. So how can I describe Ibiza? There are no acceptable words left, so maybe I'll just put up some pictures and a couple of videos:
We met at Pretty Simple early in the morning and then hauled our bags and suitcases down the street to the waiting buses:
After a two hour flight we landed in sunny Ibiza
Here's one of the two buses that took us to the hotel
They got a lot of rain before we arrived, so it was very green and lush
Here we all are checking into the hotel... the magic was about to start
Many rooms had Jacuzzis. How incredible is that?
Some rooms had private decks... with amazing views of the ocean!
The view from my room was... uh... super duper! (See? No more superlatives..)
Check out this... fantabulous... private Jacuzzi on my deck! (Fantabulous? Really?)
We had free cocktails by the pool and watched the sun set. Beautifous! (That doesn't even sound like a word.)
Dinner was... uh... yummy. <sigh>
I literally can't do it anymore... I'm going to take a break and watch "Old Yeller" and "Requiem for a Dream", then I'll put up a more somber post about DAY TWO in Ibiza!
My new company, Pretty Simple, does a yearly retreat for all employees. (I think a few unlucky folks get stuck here to watch the fort.) This year we're going to an island off the coast of Spain called "Ibiza". We leave in a few hours and will be back Sunday night. Melanie isn't too happy about being left alone for a few days, but I know she'll be okay.
Here are some pictures of the hotel where we'll be staying:
A lot of folks get married here... I wonder why?
Here is the swimming pool and deck area
The food is supposed to be pretty good, too!
I've signed up for snorkeling, a trip to another part of the island on a jet ski, and a 4x4 adventure. Am I living a charmed life or what?
I'll probably have pictures and trip details early next week.
I'm still amazed by this building every time I see it. Just when I start to think that Paris is simply becoming "some city where I live and work" I see Palais Garnier and I'm reminded how truly special this place is.
For the first couple of weeks that we lived in Paris we rented an apartment/hotel in the 15th and I took the Metro into work. Here's what I saw coming out of the Metro station every morning... a lot of butts, followed by this:
Now that we are living in the 2nd district this incredible structure is only a few blocks from our house. We passed it on our walk to the bank the other day and I got some closer footage:
Palais Garnier was constructed between 1861 and 1875 for the Paris Opera. It is perhaps the most famous opera house in the world, due in part to it being the location of the "Phantom of the Opera" novel, films, and Broadway show.
If you are interested you can read more about it here: Wikipedia Article.
Melanie and I haven't ventured through the front doors yet, but judging by this image I found online it's possibly even more beautiful on the inside:
The foyer of the Palais Garnier (the Paris Opera House)
I've been taking some (mostly mental) notes about differences I've noticed between our former home outside Seattle, Washington and our new home in Paris, France. Here's what I've jotted down so far:
There are a lotta damn people here!
"Entrees" are actually appetizers in France. What we call "Entrees" are "Plats" here.
Everything is tiny. The elevators, appliances, even many of the boxes of stuff in the stores.
The Dry Cleaners down the street also acts as a kind post office for deliveries.
Everything here requires a lot of paperwork and signatures... and initialing...
Bathroom doors don't automatically unlock when you open them.
Toilets don't have levers, like in the United States. They have round buttons.
Many toilets here have two buttons, one for small flushes and the other for large flushes.
The streets in Paris sound like movie sets. (Probably because of all the stone buildings.)
Lunch is very important. Pretty Simple pretty much shuts down from 12:30 to 2:00.
We were told Paris doesn't have hamburgers but they are everywhere!
There are lots of steep spiral staircases here.
Bistros and cafes have very similar menus, and very similar pricing.
Desserts and sweets don't seem to be as full of sugar, and I don't notice as much corn syrup.
Wines in Paris are great, but we've had some very good beer, too! (Possibly imported.)
People eat and drink at the streetside cafes even in the rain and cold. They have heat lamps.
Most people, even waiters and service folks, are very friendly and helpful.
There are a lot more English speakers here than I realized. (Based on our first trip in June.)
Every street here seems to have half a dozen restaurants, brasseries, or bistros.
Food options in the 2nd are incredibly diverse: French, Thai, Chinese, Italien, Japanese, etc.
Almost everyone smokes. (At least it feels that way.)
Pedestrians ignore traffic signals and just go when it looks safe.
Cashiers at grocery stores don't put your stuff in bags. You have to do that yourself.
Saying hello and goodbye is super important in France. In shops, the office... everywhere.
Duvets seem to be very popular. (Making the bed every morning takes about 10 seconds.)
Internet/cable/phones are CHEAP here compared to the United States. (More later.)
Melanie LOVES steak but she hasn't had even a decent one in Paris so far.
We seem to have a lot more produce in America, but less wine and cheese. (Makes sense.)
They don't keep eggs in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.
People don't snack much here. They eat a light breakfast, good lunch, and late dinner.
I'll update and add to this list as I come across new stuff to write about.
I heard a couple of interesting comments yesterday and I jotted them down so as not to forget them.
I've been waking up pretty early so yesterday I got into work before everyone else arrived. Sebastien, my Project Lead, walked into the office singing an American pop song and after dropping some stuff off at his computer he came over for a quick chat. He asked if we liked our new apartment and I told him it was very nice, but the floors creak and groan a lot, and the toilet is in a very small separate room.
With a wry smile Sebastien said, "Ah, now you understand. Your new apartment is almost older than your country!"
Then at lunch everyone was talking about what they did over the weekend. Clement, an amazing artist on my team, told the group, "We went to London for the weekend."
I did a double take.
I guess I forgot that we live in Paris now because that seemed like a completely outlandish concept. Who goes to London for the weekend??? Oh, yeah, people in Paris can do that because it only takes a couple of hours now. Being able to travel to a bunch of differnt countries in only a few hours is such a foreign concept to a guy who just drove almost 20 hours to get from Seattle to Casper, Wyoming.
It costs about 50 Euros to take the Eurostar from Paris to London
As I've gotten older I've really come to appreciate the importance of moments. A moment is some usually small but very memorable thing that happens while watching a movie, playing a game, or even walking through town. A few great moments can turn a mediocre film into a near masterpiece, a so-so game into an all-time favorite, or an early morning trip to a boulangerie into a completely magical experience.
Yesterday morning I was out of bed by 6:30 AM. I took a shower, got dressed, and since it was much too early to walk to work I decided to pay a visit to our neighborhood boulangerie for some croissants and perhaps a baguette.
It was dark in our hallway but there was just enough light for me to press the elevator button. A few seconds later I could hear the faint hum of the motor as my vertical carriage ascended the dark latticed enclosure. Suddenly, a light appeared in the black elevator shaft and it grew brighter as the elevator approached. It looked amazing, like a scene from a movie. Moment!
Although it was still a little dark outside, Bistro d'Edmond, right next to our apartment, was already open and serving bread and coffee to several older gentlemen who read the morning paper while smoking cigarettes. It was almost a Parisian cliche, but I loved it. Moment!
The boulangerie is just down the street from our apartment and the smell as I walked through the door was almost indescribable. I waited for one other customer then stepped to the counter and said, "Deux pain au chocolate... et un baguette, s'il vous plait!" (I discovered later that baguettes are feminine and I used the masculine "un" rather than the female "une", but I was still pretty proud of myself.)
Smiling, the owner placed my order in a bag and told me the cost. I'm not good with French numbers yet, but I could see the cash register total. I handed her 5 Euros, she handed me my change, and I said, "Merci, au revoir." She replied, "Bonne journée" (basically "good journey" or "good day") and I left, not having spoken a word of English. Moment!
As I headed back to our apartment I looked down Quatre-Septembre, which is a rather long and straight avenue, and as the Haussmann-style buildings in the distance faded into the early morning mist I could see the deep orange of a beautiful sunrise. Major moment! (Spoiled a bit because my phone/camera battery was dead, but I will always cherish my mental picture.)
I took my treasures back upstairs and shared them with Melanie at the dining room table. Another small moment!
Melanie and I are still in the Paris "Honeymoon Phase" so we haven't experienced any major culture shock yet, though I'm sure that is coming. I have started to notice differences between Paris and our old home in the Seattle area.
Here's one: there are a LOT of spiral staircases here. This is a picture of the one in our new flat:
Going down the stairs in our new apartment
I'm used to stairs that are all the same depth, but as you can see from the picture my right foot has less room to step down than my left foot which feels sort of... unbalancing... somehow. At first I felt like I was trying to walk down the stairs wearing a clown shoe on my right foot, but I'm getting used to it now.
Yesterday we ate at a bistro with a nearly vertical spiral staircase. Sebastien, my Project Lead, saw how cautious I was going down and he quipped, "That's why they serve food upstairs and drinks downstairs."
With lots of help from Carole at Mosaic (our relocation experts), and Marine and Cyril from Pretty Simple, we were able to move into our new apartment two days ago! It will be another week before we get Internet, so Melanie and I walked over to the office this afternoon to get connected, take care of some work, and hopefully Skype with family back in the United States.
When Carole took us out to look at apartments last week we initially fell in love with a large (by Parisian standards) and fairly modern flat in the 16th arrondissement. It was very posh and you could see the Eiffel Tower from the dining area window, but it felt like an apartment you would find for sale in America somewhere. Plus, there were no shops or restaurants nearby, and since we are not intending to drive any time soon, this would have meant long walks to get groceries or find nice places to eat.
The apartment in the 16th didn't feel very Parisian, and it wasn't close to many shops or places to eat
Because Pretty Simple is in the 2nd district I would have been taking the Metro into work every day. I like the Paris subway system, but it's extremely crowded and warm/humid during rush hour -- and I can only imagine how much worse it gets in the summer.
Luckily, we found a reasonably priced apartment in the same district as the office! It's in an older building so the floors creak and groan, the bathroom is not much larger than an airplane lavatory, and I think the elevator was built before the Napoleonic wars, but it's sort of rustically elegant, and we think it feels like Paris. We really love that we're surrounded by so many shops and food options here, from quiet French brasseries, to Americanized bistros, to Asian cafes, to Italian restaurants, and more. Best of all, it now takes me just over a minute to get to my office. Amazing!
Our new apartment is on the top floor of this building
Before leaving Seattle we shipped about 7 medium-sized boxes of stuff to Paris and Thursday night Cyril, from Pretty Simple, kindly moved them into the apartment. (We just loaded them onto a dolly and walked them over!)
On Friday I headed off to work and Melanie got everything unpacked and spiffied up by the time I got home. Definitely our easiest move EVER.
Here's a shot I took last night, with some of the lights on:
It's creaky, the bathroom is minuscule, and the elevator feels like a deathtrap, but we love our new apartment!
First off, I must have done something wrong on the Metro yesterday, because today it only took a couple of minutes to reach the station.
But I digress. The main reason for this post is that I want talk about the dinner we had a few hours ago. It was SOOOO good. Probably the best meal we've had in Paris, and maybe one of the best ever.
When I got back to the hotel tonight Melanie wasn't sure she even wanted to eat out, but I talked her into going anyway and then we struggled to find an open table. Everything was packed, no place to sit at Cafe Le Pierrot, Le Zinc, Le Primerose, Le Bouquet de Grenelle, or anywhere else we looked.
We were heading back towards McDonalds (I know, I know) when we spotted a single table at Le Pierrot and we grabbed it. Lucky!
Melanie and I were about to order burgers when I spotted a Plat du Jour (basically "Today's Special") that read something like: Carré de porc avec Truffe et Rissotto. My French is still horrible but I was pretty sure that "Truffe = Truffle". I LOVE truffles and for 14.50 euros this seemed like a steal!
Have you ever eaten something that was super delicious, but you sort of forget how good it was until you took another bite, and then that new bite caused your eyes to roll back in your head all over again while you slapped your palm on the table while making yummy sounds? Yeah, that was me tonight.
Sorry, that was BOTH of us tonight. We ordered the same dish and Melanie enjoyed it as much as I did. They probably won't need to clean those two plates because they were both SPOTLESS when we left.
I'm hoping to have a new phone soon, then I'll be able to post more pictures.
I think my first day at Pretty Simple went reasonably well, other than a few gaffes here and there. The biggest issue I had all day was my keyboard. Err... keyboards!
I'll need a Mac computer on my desk (my project lead, Sebastian, laughed when I used the antiquated term "Macintosh" -- I think Apple stopped using that back in the 60's -- okay, maybe not that long ago, but I'm old and dates confuse me), but I'm not a Macintosh Mac guy, so I was kind of struggling with the OS, and even the keyboard.
Before coming to Pretty Simple I asked for an ergonomic (split) keyboard. They wanted to know if I preferred QWERTY style and I naively thought, "Of course, what other kinds of keyboards are there???" I was soon to learn that most models in France are AZERTY, which is similar to the ones we use in North America, but just different enough to be terribly aggravating.
Until a few months ago I wasn't aware of the AZERTY keyboard
Unfortunately, my new keyboard was German and not American. It wasn't AZERTY so no problem, right? Well get this, the Germans have an even different keyboard layout called QWERTZU. I had no idea...
A very friendly Australian programmer named Steve helped me modify the language from FR to EN but that only changed the mapping of some of the keys. (And it meant, for example, that I had to hit the "o" key every time I wanted an "m". Confusing.)
We are supposed to hear back about the apartment today so I was desperate to check my gmail account, but when I opened a browser window, instead of typing "https://gmail.com", I typed:
https://g?q...
Damn. Try it again.
https://gmail;/!co?
CRAP!
Thankfully, someone finally found me an English QWERTY keyboard and everything was right with the world again.
Last night, the Metro trip planner app told me: "Take Metro 8 towards Point du Lac..." Finding the 8 was easy but there was NO mention of "Point du Lac" anywhere. I asked a station attendant but his English wasn't very good.
Fortunately, a nice woman in line told me where to go. The 8 can be taken toward either "Balard" or "Créteil", so I followed the signs to the latter. It was quite a journey:
Down a flight stairs
Around a corner and down another flight of stairs
Then I had a very long walk trough a claustrophobic subway tunnel
This was followed by two more descending flights of stairs
Then I turned a corner and went up an escalator
Finally I went down a small flight of stairs to the station
The Metro train was crowded but when the doors opened I could plainly see the station names, so it was easy to know where to get off. (Melanie has been telling me where to get off for years, but she stayed at the hotel today.)
There's a horizontal version of this sign on every Metro train
Seven stops later I disembarked at the "Opera" station and followed the "Sortie" (exit) signs to daylight. After a few minutes in the somewhat oppressive corridors I ascended a flight of stairs to this view:
The famous Opéra Garnier is only a few blocks from my new office
What a glorious way to start my day!
I had given myself some extra time in case of trouble (Melanie even made me put 50 euros in my shoe in case I got robbed and needed to hail a taxi), so instead of going straight to Pretty Simple I wandered around the neighborhood a bit. Like a modern day Ferdinand Magellan I discovered a really interesting indoor mall at the end of the street where we hope to live. I planted a virtual flag.
Shortly before 10:00 I headed back to the office and was greeted by a security guard. "I'm the new guy", I said, and he let me right in.
The receptionist looked up when I entered the lobby and after I announced my name her face kind of lit up. "Oh yes, we've all read your blog!!!"
Uh-oh.
I only posted my blog yesterday, so this was sort of startling news. I frantically searched my memory trying to recall if I had said anything that would embarrass me in front of my new employers. Probably... but too late now. Similar comments were uttered several times throughout the day, "Hey look, it's the blog guy." I wasn't expecting to make THIS impression on my new co-workers, but as the French declare: "C'est la vie"...
The Metro is extremely crowded (and stuffy) during rush hour, but I had no real problem finding my way around today.
I had trouble getting to sleep last night; I think I'm just excited about starting my new job today. And maybe a little anxious, I haven't worked in almost a year!
Not sure why, but I woke at 3:00 AM this morning and then struggled to get back to sleep. I must have dozed off, though, because I had a really bizarre dream that involved me being a character on "The Big Bang Theory", and there was camping, and a man-eating dragon that got summoned every time I opened a plastic container I bought at a backwoods Walmart. (Not embellishing at all here, all that stuff was actually in my dream.)
I lost a lot of friends and family last night (DAMN DRAGON), but then I thought to myself: Wait a minute... Penny just got burned up by a red-bearded ironback... the producers of our show wouldn't kill off such an important castmember... so this must be a dream sequence! Whew!
Then I woke up.
Oh my God! You killed Penny! You bastard!
Last night after dinner we stopped at the Metro station and bought 10 "tickets". Each is apparently good for one contiguous ride on the subway. The clerk gave us a map and kindly told us how to get from here to Pretty Simple. Sounds straightforward so I'm not worried. Still, I'll probably leave an hour or so early just to be safe. Don't want to be late on my first day.
As I mentioned before, Melanie and I learned a little French before we arrived, but based on our recent conversations you would never know it.
Walking home from a cafe earlier today we saw an elderly newspaper vendor, so Melanie smiled and eloquently blurted out: "Merci -- uh.. Au Rev-- uh... uh... uh... BONJOUR!" She was rather embarrassed but he gave her a warm smile and returned the greeting.
I don't know why that keeps happening to us! It's like our brains say, "Oh, time to say something that isn't English now" and before we know it we're muttering "Scusi" in a thick Italian accent, or we are thanking our waiter with a hearty: "Danke Schön!" <sigh>
I memorized a few important phrases before moving here, like "Parlez-vous anglaise?" (Do you speak English?) I've got this one down cold and have used it almost every day. But when a workman came to our hotel room the other day and started jabbering at me in French I blurted out, "Voulez-vous anglaise?" which means, "Want english?" I guess that's pretty close, but he gave me a bemused incredulous look, like I had a monkey flying out of my butt.
Imagine the look on your face if you saw this guy emerging from my behind
Our relocation lady, Carole Losa (from Mosaic Mobility), met us at 10:00 AM this morning to go look at apartments.
Carole picked us up in her Toyota Yaris and presented us with a list of apartments, ten in total, spread out all across the city. After a quick introduction we were off!
I'd like to take this opportunity to say that, with each passing day, my resolve to NEVER drive in Paris grows stronger. Our hostess was a great driver but this trip was more thrilling than a lot of roller coasters I've been on. We kept coming to these huge roundabouts and there are no lanes, like there are in the U.S. It quickly turns completely chaotic, and to make matters even worse, motorcycles and bicycles are zooming in and out between all the cars and buses.
The pedestrians aren't any better, most seem completely oblivious to all traffic lights and signals. They just walk out into traffic and hope no one hits them. I've been trying to wait for the green walk signal when I go out, but oftentimes cars will just zoom through the red lights, so that's not necessarily any safer.
It was sort of terrifying... and I was in the back seat with an obstructed view. Poor Melanie was in the passenger seat up front, witnessing the maelstrom firsthand. To her credit she only slammed on her air brake half a dozen times, and only attempted to climb out through the roof twice.
Other than the helmet, I'm pretty sure this is how Melanie looked all day
APARTMENT #1
The first apartment we looked at was in the 6th district and it was a bit of an eye-opener. It probably looked great in the pictures but the floor creaked and it wasn't very nicely furnished. Melanie and I shot each other looks. What if they are ALL like this?
APARTMENT #2
The next apartment, also in the 6th, was nicer, but like the first one it hadn't been renovated in awhile and the floors creaked loudly with every step. It had some very nice features but it wasn't quite right for us.
This flat had a beautiful rustic dining room, complete with an antique stove
APARTMENT #3
The next flat was in an old mansion at the end of a private lane. The apartment was nicely furnished but it wasn't very big. It would be a great place to live for someone with a car, but without one we would have had a long walk to the closest restaurants and shops.
APARTMENT #4
We REALLY liked the next apartment at the outskirts of the 16th district. It was big, very elegant, recently renovated, and as it was on the 10th floor it had amazing views out towards La Defense. You could even see the Eiffel Tower from the dining room! On the negative side, it was sparsely furnished, it felt more American than Parisian, and there were very few shops or restaurants nearby.
APARTMENT #5
Another very nice apartment. This was similar to the last place we looked at only with better furnishings. Sadly it had no view. I don't think there were too many shops or cafes near this one, either.
I've seen these same clear plastic dining room chairs in a number of furnished flats. They must be very popular.
APARTMENT #6
This apartment, in the 11th, was nice but we were not crazy about the area as there was a lot of graffiti, even on some of the monuments, which made us sad.
APARTMENT #7 (OUR FAVORITE)
Melanie walked into this apartment and immediately said under her breath, "This is it." We were excited to come visit this one because it's only about a two minute walk from my office and there are lots of cafes and shops nearby. (There's even a nice bistro right next to the building!)
Here are a few pictures:
The apartment is on the top floor of this building -- you can see Bistro d'Edmond right next door
This is a shot from just inside the front door
The kitchen is very... white
The bathroom includes a washer/dryer, bathtub, and shower
The master bedroom
The second bedroom with a desk and fold out trundle bed
This is the perfect apartment for the two of us, but it won't be quite as nice when we have guests as there is only one small toilet and one bathtub/shower. Still, we love the location:
APARTMENT #8
The next flat, in the 15th, was a bit on the small side. But unlike any other apartment we looked at this one had a little outdoor terrace that was full of beautiful flowers and tall climbing plants and vines. There was a wooden table there with two candles and I could see us eating out there almost every night that it wasn't raining. But the rest of the apartment wasn't quite right for us.
APARTMENT #9
We were unable to see this apartment today, but we can check it out tomorrow if we like. (Not sure we need to.)
APARTMENT #10
This apartment was also very close to my office, and it was huge and beautifully furnished. It even had a library/study that, strangely, doubled as a dining room. Melanie thought it was too dark and very... masculine... (There were a lot of heavy antique chairs and dressers, and the flat contained a plethora of wooden ship models.) It was quite a bit more expensive than the apartment we ultimately picked out (#7 above).
* * *
Whew! What a day. We're exhausted. Our long day was made even longer because, in addition to it being Fashion Week here in Paris, Vladimir Putin is in town and there are military police and roadblocks everywhere.
Carole will contact the agent and owner on Monday and let them know about our offer. We've got our fingers crossed!
Today we had an appointment at HSBC to set up a bank account. Pretty Simple made the appointment to ensure that we had an English speaker. Like everyone else we've met here he was very nice.
There are apparently HSBC banks all over the world
Unfortunately, since we are Americans, we were only able to fill out paperwork today. When we get approved, sometime next week, we'll have to come back again to actually open the account. It will probably be another week after that before we get our bank cards.
On the plus side, I was glad to see that the bank is very close to where I work. That will make things easier.
We took out some cash and converted it into Euros to put in our new account, when we have one, but we discovered that French banks don't accept cash deposits! (Not big ones, anyway.) The bank rep told us there is a limit of about 500 euros. Not sure if that is daily, weekly, or monthly.
I asked him what we should do with the money we brought with us and he jokingly replied, "You're in Paris. Go spend it! There are some lovely, and very expensive, shops just down the street!"
NOTE: Other banks in France may accept cash deposits, we don't know for sure.
Tomorrow, we are meeting Carole Losa to go look at apartments. It should be a long busy day but we are excited!
