The angry toilet monster lives!!

DATELINE: 30.01.09 PARIS, FRANCE

It's true.  That scary angry potty monster with big gnarly teeth that we were afraid of as small children, the one who was going to gobble us up if we sat on the toilet (come on now, I _know_ this was not just me...), He's REAL.  Yes, that's right.  I've found him.  He resides in Paris.  And to make matters worse, he has cousins.  They are apparently a recognized population in Paris.  They have rights, and no one is allowed to get rid of them.  And they live in any apartment being rented for less than €800/m.  Sometimes they are even presented as part of the "charm".

I wish I had brought my camera with me today as I went apartment hunting.  For that matter, I wish I'd thought to take pictures of all of the apartments I have seen.  I'm having nightmares about some of them.  I was warned (thank you, Sam) to not expect to live in something that was up to Boston standards.  I understood that to mean my room will be very small and things will likely be kind of old, a bit funky.  I did not understand that to mean that the toilet will be either a 1/4mile walk down an unheated hall, or two flights down, and worse than the public pay toilets in Times Square (the one I saw today was so bad I burst out laughing). I did not understand that to mean that the kitchen would be an experiment in the cohabitation practices of crud and bacteria, or a battleground between the forces of man and fungus.  I did not understand that to mean that where the toilet is part of the apartment it would be the kind of thing one might find on a cross-country train trip where you shower standing over the toilet. Except the toilet does not have a lid, so you will stand on the crumbling floor instead.

My perception of the French has been that they are a people who are very particular about the conditions of their environments - that everything must be clean and orderly, "just so", and well kept. Aside from the chain-smoking and the 1/wk showering habits, we are talking about the culture that is synonymous with fashion.  Paris, the fashion capital.  OK - Milan might have stolen that title in recent years, but still.  And yet, these are also a people who apparently have no qualms about renting apartments that are barely habitable to young desperate students. The French seem to have 1000 regulations pertaining to every tiny detail of life, and the country seems built on red tape.  But there do not seem to be any regulations regarding the conditions of rental apartments.  If there are... no one is reporting these landlords and they are bleeding people dry.

There was a studio apt I looked at today that itself was in good shape - a recent renovation, but the toilet was - no kidding - down the hall, round the corner, up ahead and to the left.  Think typical college dorm length hallway.  The toilet was frightening close to that toilet from the famous scene in Trainspotting.  That is the aforementioned toilet where the guy opened the door to show the bathroom and I laughed.  I couldn't help it.  It was shocking.  The studio itself was on the 6th floor of a building (which is actually the 7th according to the US way of counting floors), no elevator.  The entire thing was 9m squared.  If you need a reference point, that's maybe a little larger than the bathroom I had in my apt at 19 Trull St.  For those of you in NYC, that's not even as big as Josh & Julianna's living room in Brooklyn.  In that tiny space you had: stove, cabinets, sink, shower stall, work table, "closet", and lofted narrow short bed.  This went for €400/m (granted, it was across the street from the Louvre). Until I saw the toilet I actually thought: well, maybe this would work.  Then I saw the toilet.  I can't live somewhere where I am going to be avoiding using the toilet.  

Tomorrow I have three more places to see.  Cross your fingers for me and wish me luck.  It's a dang good thing I am an optimist...

a tout la monde de Paris, a plus!

France is on strike

DATELINE: 29.01.09 PARIS, FRANCE

The country is on strike today.  Not the countryside, but the entire country of France.  We aren't as affected in Paris as in other parts of the country.  Particularly in the south. It is interesting to be in an environment where "union" is not a dirty word and where even those who don't strike for the whole day will strike for a few hours in solidarity, and will be very vocal about supporting the strikers.  People don't shy away from demanding better here.  

The strike is due to a general displeasure with the condition of things, economically.  Much like in the US, people are losing their jobs left and right, the cost of living has skyrocketed.  The cost of food has nearly doubled.  People who have jobs are upset because their pay is not going up in accordance with the cost of living, and their benefits are being squeezed.  Others are striking because there is a shortage of housing in the cities (particularly in Paris).  Everyone has a reason and they all join together.  There is no sense of "well, that's their issue and it's not my issue so I'm not participating".  It's really kind of amazing.  There is a general social culture of all-of-us-together when it comes to these things, and it's really affective.  By this evening the news was already talking about the gov't convening talks about what to do to improve the conditions.  That fast.  The strike wasn't even over yet!

Most of the city just stayed home from work, not wanting to bother with the transportation running at half-capacity, and so the city was extra quiet.  And running at half-capacity did mean a longer wait, but by longer I mean - usually I wait 2 minutes or less for a train.  Today I had to wait nearly 7 minutes.  OMG. =)  In Boston, on a normal day I'd wait 15.  

In other news, a brief update of my housing situation:

The woman in the white apartment, with the white floors, and the white chairs, and white walls, and white furniture... and two adorable daughters, whom I thought I would be moving in with has gone wishy-washy on me.  I have a really bad taste in my mouth now because she keeps delaying giving me the green light.  I've been to see the apt 2x and she keeps saying there is another candidate that she is scheduled to see later in the week that she wants to see before making a decision.  I'm a bit annoyed, as I am sure you will all understand, as I was of the understanding that if I said I wanted it, it was a done deal.  And I need to move on Sunday.  Not much time between now and then.  So now I am scrambling to find another place, because if she is this hesitant, and after all this stringing me along, I'm not so interested.  I have a bad feeling about it now.

So that's where it stands.  I may be able to stay in the place I am in until Monday or Tuesday.   But really not longer than that.  And with the hours ticking away rapidly, I still don't know where I will be going to when my time here, with John and Marylee has expired.  

Ouch, these thoughts make my shoulders hurt...

time for bed.

de Paris, France: A plus, mes amies!!

DATELINE: 13.01.09 JFK AIRPORT, NYC, NY

Some pre-departure photos courtesy of my bro.  I apologize for the absence of layout.  I can't figure out how to do multiple photos in any other arrangement on Blogger.  Stupid blogger.

  

  Some photos from the airport, JFK.

 This is after checking in my bags.  I know it doesn't look like much, but that brown and pink bag has the laptop in it, and it weighs a ton.  
 How much can you squeeze into a carry-on bag?  Well, that depends on whether you can sit on it to make it close...
 There I go, off into the security line.  Can you find me...?  I'm way down there in the blue sweater.  Bye bye!

Thanks for the photos, Josh!

continued from "Short review of weeks 1 & 2 (ish)"

DATELINE: 28.01.09 PARIS, FR

... as I was saying before Blogger rudely cut me off:

Since my arrival in Paris, I have seen men in the most pointy shoes imaginable (really, far pointier then the Italian shoes, very much like those women shoes that look like elf shoes).  I have stayed on a couch in a beautiful loft, I have been taken in by perfect strangers, I have eaten my weight in baguettes. I have walked from one end of Paris to the other.  I have mastered the phrase: "Excuse moi, Monsieur/Madame.  Je cherche la Rue/Blvd. -------".  I've learned my left from my right.  I have eaten amazing cheeses, meets, and fruits.  I have befriended an awesome young American couple from Nebraska, an older American couple from Northampton, an Aimee (American) and an Amelie (French) who both totally rock.  I've befriended an Algerian man who works the desk at a hotel and graciously let me use the toilet.  I've befriended the two handsome men who run the café Le Cactus where they let me use their WiFi for hours on end, even when I was in tears and doing battle with Sally Mae.  I've successfully avoided the puppy-land-mines to be found on every block, and only gone the wrong way on the subway once! I successfully purchased my "Pass Navigo" metro pass.  I've done battle with the university, and subsequently the American financial aid system (here, sadly I was defeated).  I've made myself something of a fixture at Sylvie's house.    

As of today, I think that I may have a place to live at least for the foreseeable month.  I will be in an apartment with a young mother (in her 40s) and her two young daughters (7 & 9).  It is an almost too nice apartment in an almost too nice neighborhood.  But I have seen the dregs and kids, this is a good situation.  I am still keeping my eye out for something that I feel more comfortable with, something a bit cheaper maybe.  But for now... this may be what I do.

I've started my classes at the American University, and oh yeah - I've befriended the director of Student Affairs whose office I have plunked down in multiple times in the last two weeks.  I think my adventures are just beginning....

The other night, Dene (of the young American couple I've befriended) went to a weekly meet up for the CouchSurfing community.  Every Monday at Lion's Bar in the 2eme arrondissement they flood the bar (EVERYONE in there was with CS) and have a bar quiz.  It was a lot of fun.  We made some new friends, had what we learned is the best bar-fare to be found in Paris, and tested our knowledge of largely American music.  

The weather here has been consistently grey and about 30 - 40 degrees.  The prediction is for the clouds to clear and the temperature to drop, but so far this has not proven true.

OK... back to my course reading and sessions with Rosetta Stone French.... 

From Paris, France... A plus!!  (pronounced "ah ploos" - meaning, see ya later!)

Long overdue, short review of weeks 1 &2 (ish)

Dateline: Jan 20th, 2009 Paris, France

... and by short I mean, not short at all.  Have any of you ever known me to tell a brief story or write a truly short email?  yeah, i didn't think so.

So I'm here!!  Holy crap!  I'm living in Paris.  Though I have yet to figure out where it is that I will be living.  So far I've been "the girl on the couch" and the squatter.  Awesome.

Here is the story of my first week, and a day or two before my departure....

As many of you are aware, there was madness regarding my visa.  The Friday preceding my departure, when I made my 3rd attempt to get my visa, they took my papers, and my passport, and told me that it would not be ready until Wednesday at the earliest.  My flight, out of NYC was scheduled for Tuesday.  I begged - full on shameless begging, tears and all.  I went home discouraged and exhausted.  I called B, who came over and helped me feel better, and pack and then we went back to her place.  It was a much needed girls night and break from all this.  And good to get a little extra QT with B.  While we were packing, on that same Friday night, I got a call from the consulate to tell me that my visa was ready.  I think they just like to scare you so that you'll kiss their feet when they give you your visa.

In NYC the night before my flight out, Josh and Julianna helped me lighten my load slightly.  I removed from my packed items a few more articles of clothing, a jacket, a pair of shoes, my knitting/sewing projects... what else?  But, somehow I still have TOO MUCH STUFF.  Somehow I still have two bags that are not even packed full but are so heavy that I was asked "Why, Rachel? Why?". Blame the laptop - I swear it weighs 15lbs.  

I was nearly late for my flight from NYC to London, in true Distler fashion.  I got through security quickly and got to my gate with a little time to kill.  My flight was really really rocky for about the first hour and a half.  I actually was a bit worried and anxious, but then it smoothed out and all was well.  We got to London an hour early for our arrival time (all that turbulance must have given us a bit of a speed boost).  But because 6am is apparently high traffic time at the airport, we got stuck in a holding pattern for 1/2hr.  Once finally permitted to land, it took them 1/2 hr to bring us a flight of stairs so we could exit the airplane and pile onto the buses that would take us to the Terminal area.  After the stairs arrived, it took the nearly 1/2hr to offload everyone and get us to the terminal building.  

Once we reach the terminal area we are packed into a security line and it takes us 1/2 hr to get through.  Thankfully I'd given myself a 2hr layover in LHR.  I finally get to the area where I am supposed to wait for the announcement of my gate for me connection to London. It is nearly 8:30am.  My flight is scheduled for departure at 9:10am.  

I spend a few minutes trying to get online, and eating my stash of granola bars in an effort to avoid buying any kind of food in LHR.   Next thing I know the board tells me my flight is delayed... until 9:45... no wait, make that 10am... no no... scratch that, 10:30... oh now, actually, 10:45.  Oh good lord.  I start frantically trying to call Sylvie in Paris to let her know I will be coming in later.  I go to the currency change desk and convert some Canadian money I have into British Pounds (do not ask for an explanation for the Canadian money).  The $30 Canadian nets me just over $10 British Pounds.  How sad is that?  I never manage to get through to Sylvie and decide to get a little food.  I eat the most expensive yogurt and orange juice known to man and return to check the board.  It's now 9:30, and the board now shows my flight as "Boarding" ... at the other end of the terminal.  I run - as much as I can after hardly any food, no sleep (oh yeah, failed to mention - I'd taken cold meds to prevent problems from the pressure in flight since I'd been congested, and it prevented me from sleeping the whole overnight flight and screwed up my appetite.  Awesome.  Totally better than the headache... ), and a heavy as can be carry-on bag slung over my shoulder.

I just make it to the gate before they begin boarding my row.  The flight was delayed on the runway for about 1/2hr due to fog.  London was absolutely encased in fog.  Apparently the fog had also eaten Paris, causing the initial flight delay.

I arrived in Paris at nearly 2pm (about 3 hrs late).  I managed to get my bags and eventually managed to figure out how to get a ticket for the train.  I fumbled my way through (and I mean this literally - you should have seen me with all my bags, utterly ridiculous), found a payphone to call Sylvie and get directions to her house.  It took me 6 tries, at least, to work out how to work the payphones.  I later learned that these may have been the last remaining payphones in Paris.  The rest seem to have gone the way of the Dodo - before getting my phone, whenever I asked anyone where I could find a phone booth in Paris they would reply: (cheeks puff, lipse purse, air releases, eyes roll skyward) "In Paris??  I don't think so..."

The tremendous generosity of complete strangers who saw me lugging twice my weight in baggage is the reason I was able to get unstuck from the metro turnstiles, get onto the train, get off the train, get down the stairs to the other train, and then get up the stairs to the street.  This last one, a very nice man probably about my age litterally carried my bag up 4 very long flights of stairs.  I probably would have eventually succeeded in conquering the stairs myself, had I been left to my own devices.  But it would have taken me an extra hour to do it and I'm sure I'd be permanently bent forward.

I arrived at Sylvie's lovely Parisian apartment on Wednesday afternoon around 4pm.  I was a complete mess: sweating like mad (it's not nearly as cold here as I was expecting) in my sweater and down coat, having not slept since Monday night, having hardly eaten, and utterly disoriented.  Thank god for Sylvie, who showed me to the shower and fed me.  Finally I was human again.  

There was a mix-up with Arthur, my couch host from CouchSurfing (OK, let's be honest - I wrote down the wrong address) and so I stayed on a roll-out futon mattress in Sylvie's dining room that night.  But I have never been happier to get horizontal.  I'd have laid on a 2x4 and been happy as a clam.  

My adventures in Paris thus far have been great.  Apartment hunting is a nightmare, but I suppose it's really not that much harder than finding one in Boston.  I just have the added burden of not really knowing where I'm going when I look, not having the insider network, and not having a place to live while I am looking.  

continued....

Monday, T minus 6 days

Monday, January 05, 2009
I will leave Boston in less than 7 days. I'll get on a plane in 8. I'll land in Paris in 9 days from today. This is utterly insane to me.