Today I checked out, and rejected, my first housing offer - a rented room in Montmartre, mainly because I don't want to be roomies with the old man who's renting it. The location was fine, just off the Butte de Montmartre (mad touristy), but as enamored as I am of living in Montmartre (which is to say - very, very, very, very...) it just didn't seem right. Hopefully something else will come through as my search continues.
I also got my passe Navigo, which I can use all the time on public transit, and it's really fancy and has a microchip and you just wave it around in front of a sensor to get on the metro. Okay. I know that doesn't sound very exciting, but I'm from Seattle, where public transit is kind of an afterthought, and so I am incredibly excited about my passe Navigo. It even has my picture on it.
Also, last night I met up with another assistant for dinner at Le Petit Dakar, and had Senegalese food for the first time since I was abroad. It was good, but definitely de-spiced for the benefit of the French. I mean, my nose didn't even start running. I was pretty disappointed.
After dinner we wandered around the Marais and got gelato that comes in the shape of a rose, and it was so wonderful to just walk around aimlessly and listen to all of the people eating dinner in the cafes and bars along the streets. The Marais used to be Paris's Jewish neighborhood, and it still is to a certain extent, so there are tons of felafel and bagel places around, and an art deco synagogue I have yet to stumble upon, and there's something really nice about it. It feels like a very distinct neighborhood, even though it's full of tourists quite often, one of whom asked me for directions in French yesterday. I was pretty happy about that. Once you get off of Rue de Rivoli and into the neighborhood, it turns out that the Marais gets way more quintessentially French and perfect for wandering and thinking and people watching and way less full of tourists doing tourist things.
And I love that I can just wander down to the Louvre after dinner or walk across the quai to Notre Dame and I don't even want to go in, it's just nice to be in a place that is so ridiculously beautiful all the time. Which is not to say that Paris is perfect, because it really, really isn't. I just am really enjoying being here not as a tourist but as someone who actually lives here. Although I'll feel a lot more like I live here when I actually have a place to live.
I have my orientation for my job tomorrow. I think that will help too.
Haiku for Sketchy Montmartre "Apartment":
Non pour Montmartre
Un peu sketchy, plus tourists
C'est dommage, ca.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The International House of Students; or, Nothing Lasts Forever, Even Cold November Rain
This morning I trundled onto the metro in a state of fuzzy confusion surrounded by scary trample-prone speedwalking Parisiens, who apparently know their way around the city and the subway stations. I was headed to the American Church and up earlier than I've been in probably a few months, because word on the American teaching assistant street was that you can find postings for places to live there, but only if you get there before ten. That's housing in Paris for you, I guess. I proudly asked a Relay clerk for directions in perfect French once I got inevitably and horribly lost on the metro. He directed me to lignes 1 and 13, but when I emerged at Les Invalides in front of this fancy dome with gold statues and the Air France building with a good section of the Eiffel Tower in view, it occurred to me that I still didn't know exactly where I was going. I found myself asking for directions again, repeatedly, in increasingly bad French, until, after taking a few wrong turns, I made it to the American Church around ten sharp.
I assumed that this meant I was doomed to long-term homelessness in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But as it turned out, only a small group of forlorn Americans (and some French people as well) flanked the bulletin boards, which were covered in refreshingly recent "annonces" for apartments and rooms to rent. This was truly amazing, as I've been scouring French craigslist on the daily, and their ads always seem to be a few days old - they don't come in very often, and yesterday I made about ten phone calls to people who had already rented their apartments.
In my woozy state, I scribbled down phone numbers in my notebook and headed back to Les Invalides to get the metro back to the Marais and my hostel, where I could call these people and beg for a place to live, boasting my tiny assistant's salary, funding from the parentals, and...I don't know...really, really liking France?
But it worked out. The American Church is way better than the Internet for finding a place to live, because you have to physically go there to get the information, you can't just stay at home in your PJs and check out listings online. Which means that to begin with, fewer people even see these ads, which means less competition, which means that all of the people I called in the hostel courtyard today, at least the ones who picked up, all still have rooms and apartments available. So I've gone from absolutely zero ideas hostel bound terrified to having an apartment visit in Montmartre scheduled tomorrow, an au pair interview next Monday, and another potential interview in the works. Okay, so I really don't want to be an au pair. But I'm going to be a teacher anyway, I like kids, and a lot of families in Paris rent out rooms or studios at discounted rates (read: affordable) in exchange for anything from babysitting a few hours a week to full-on live-in au pair-hood. I'm giving it some serious thought. Especially because, a lot of the time, these people want someone who can teach their kids English. I mean, I don't have a lot of money, I speak English, I teach English, I can totally tolerate children, and I really, really, really want to live in Paris - this is kind of a no-brainer.
I hope one of these situations works out. In the meantime I'm applying for housing in student apartments throughout Paris - literally, I'm applying to about five places. And in the mean-meantime, I'm staying at a hostel called MIJE, an acronym which, directly translated, means "International House of Students and Young People." Like IHOP, except it's PEOPLE. I'm staying in a room with six other people, two of whom I am sure are over MIJE's age limit, but I've been informed that the youth hostel thing is kind of a technicality. It's fine - we have a sweet courtyard, the people are friendly, and the only real drawback is that there's no wireless and one of the girls in my room snores like a seventy-year-old man with breathing problems. But it's an all right place to be right now, and I'm not really worried about theft - it feels very secure to me.
But the wireless, that's a problem. It means I have to go to Cafe Columbus on Rue Vieille du Temple once daily to check my email. I could go elsewhere, but Cafe Columbus is all right with me. It's a French chain that is clearly pretending to be Starbucks, because apparently the French are unaware of the fact that the way they do coffee is already way better than the way it's done in the US. It has the token whipped cream-topped fake coffee beverages, paper cups (whoa!), wireless internet, coffee bean murals, and, wait for it...it plays a lot of American music, although today seems to be 80s day, because they just played "November Rain." Not that I don't like Guns 'n Roses, it's just unexpected. Coffee shops in Seattle and Noho are always playing pretentious hipster music that is for the most part calm and mumbly, so it's nice to drink my espresso to some emotive upbeat-but-not rock with thunder in the background. Plus, let's face it, right now is sort of the "November Rain" period of my stay in Paris - confusing, frustrating, rife with uncertainty. So in a weird way, it's nice to know that it's temporary. I may be bouncing between youth hostels for now, but eventually Paris will feel familiar and I won't get lost on the metro and things will make a little bit of sense. I know this because I lived in Senegal for four months, and if Dakar started to feel like home, which it did, Paris will get there too, minus the near-constant marriage proposals from strange men, getting yelled at in the street, and being scared shitless every time I took public transit anywhere.
And I've definitely had a few moments where I feel like I'm in the opening to Beauty and the Beast and people are flinging their windows open saying, "Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!" and dancing around with baguettes and books and stuff. Because I kind of love it here. And sometimes I have to remind myself that being here is literally a dream come true for me. I've wanted to live in Paris since I was twelve, and it's still crazy to me that I finally finagled a way to make it happen, however haphazardly it may have happened. I mean, really? I live in Paris?
And then there are times I get lost on the metro, and other unpleasantries occur. Let me just say, you haven't visited Paris until you've seen some random dude peeing in the street talking to himself in Paris. Whatever. Nothing lasts forever, even cold September days getting lost in the metro. Right, Slash, Axl?
I assumed that this meant I was doomed to long-term homelessness in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But as it turned out, only a small group of forlorn Americans (and some French people as well) flanked the bulletin boards, which were covered in refreshingly recent "annonces" for apartments and rooms to rent. This was truly amazing, as I've been scouring French craigslist on the daily, and their ads always seem to be a few days old - they don't come in very often, and yesterday I made about ten phone calls to people who had already rented their apartments.
In my woozy state, I scribbled down phone numbers in my notebook and headed back to Les Invalides to get the metro back to the Marais and my hostel, where I could call these people and beg for a place to live, boasting my tiny assistant's salary, funding from the parentals, and...I don't know...really, really liking France?
But it worked out. The American Church is way better than the Internet for finding a place to live, because you have to physically go there to get the information, you can't just stay at home in your PJs and check out listings online. Which means that to begin with, fewer people even see these ads, which means less competition, which means that all of the people I called in the hostel courtyard today, at least the ones who picked up, all still have rooms and apartments available. So I've gone from absolutely zero ideas hostel bound terrified to having an apartment visit in Montmartre scheduled tomorrow, an au pair interview next Monday, and another potential interview in the works. Okay, so I really don't want to be an au pair. But I'm going to be a teacher anyway, I like kids, and a lot of families in Paris rent out rooms or studios at discounted rates (read: affordable) in exchange for anything from babysitting a few hours a week to full-on live-in au pair-hood. I'm giving it some serious thought. Especially because, a lot of the time, these people want someone who can teach their kids English. I mean, I don't have a lot of money, I speak English, I teach English, I can totally tolerate children, and I really, really, really want to live in Paris - this is kind of a no-brainer.
I hope one of these situations works out. In the meantime I'm applying for housing in student apartments throughout Paris - literally, I'm applying to about five places. And in the mean-meantime, I'm staying at a hostel called MIJE, an acronym which, directly translated, means "International House of Students and Young People." Like IHOP, except it's PEOPLE. I'm staying in a room with six other people, two of whom I am sure are over MIJE's age limit, but I've been informed that the youth hostel thing is kind of a technicality. It's fine - we have a sweet courtyard, the people are friendly, and the only real drawback is that there's no wireless and one of the girls in my room snores like a seventy-year-old man with breathing problems. But it's an all right place to be right now, and I'm not really worried about theft - it feels very secure to me.
But the wireless, that's a problem. It means I have to go to Cafe Columbus on Rue Vieille du Temple once daily to check my email. I could go elsewhere, but Cafe Columbus is all right with me. It's a French chain that is clearly pretending to be Starbucks, because apparently the French are unaware of the fact that the way they do coffee is already way better than the way it's done in the US. It has the token whipped cream-topped fake coffee beverages, paper cups (whoa!), wireless internet, coffee bean murals, and, wait for it...it plays a lot of American music, although today seems to be 80s day, because they just played "November Rain." Not that I don't like Guns 'n Roses, it's just unexpected. Coffee shops in Seattle and Noho are always playing pretentious hipster music that is for the most part calm and mumbly, so it's nice to drink my espresso to some emotive upbeat-but-not rock with thunder in the background. Plus, let's face it, right now is sort of the "November Rain" period of my stay in Paris - confusing, frustrating, rife with uncertainty. So in a weird way, it's nice to know that it's temporary. I may be bouncing between youth hostels for now, but eventually Paris will feel familiar and I won't get lost on the metro and things will make a little bit of sense. I know this because I lived in Senegal for four months, and if Dakar started to feel like home, which it did, Paris will get there too, minus the near-constant marriage proposals from strange men, getting yelled at in the street, and being scared shitless every time I took public transit anywhere.
And I've definitely had a few moments where I feel like I'm in the opening to Beauty and the Beast and people are flinging their windows open saying, "Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!" and dancing around with baguettes and books and stuff. Because I kind of love it here. And sometimes I have to remind myself that being here is literally a dream come true for me. I've wanted to live in Paris since I was twelve, and it's still crazy to me that I finally finagled a way to make it happen, however haphazardly it may have happened. I mean, really? I live in Paris?
And then there are times I get lost on the metro, and other unpleasantries occur. Let me just say, you haven't visited Paris until you've seen some random dude peeing in the street talking to himself in Paris. Whatever. Nothing lasts forever, even cold September days getting lost in the metro. Right, Slash, Axl?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Seattle-Reykjavik-Paris (Marais, 4m Arrondissement)
I got into Paris Sunday afternoon, and I'm now staying in a hostel in the Marais in a converted mansion that is really, really old. We have a courtyard and free breakfast, but no wi-fi, so I've had to venture out to find it, and I'm writing this post from a wi-fi hotspot in Place des Vosges. I feel a bit conspicuous with my laptop out, but what can you do?
Paris is way more touristy than I remember. I guess it's because the last time I was here, I stayed in the 17th arrondissement, which is a pretty French one, not close to any big attractions (unless you count Montmartre, but even that is pretty far away) and it's a good place to speak French and explore little boulangeries and cafes and not see other foreigners for days. The Marais is different. I hear English everywhere I go, and I can hardly get down Rue de Rivoli with having to stop at least once so I'm not in someone's picture. Granted, I'm not an expert on Paris, but I've been here so many times that sometimes it already feels like home. Other times I feel kind of like Carrie Bradshaw in the last episode of Sex and the City - lost, confused, on my own, which, obviously, I am, although I met some girls from Calgary at the hostel who are doing the same program as me, but in Poitiers.
I have my stage (orientation) on Thursday in Essonne, the region where the town I'm teaching in is located. I'll take the metro to the RER and see how confusing it is. Today I'm searching for a place to live - this morning I made about ten phone calls to people who'd posted on pap.fr (basically French craigslist) who all said their apartments were "deja loye." Comment dit-on "homeless"? The hostel's okay for now, but I'm hoping something more permanent will work out in the next few days. In the meantime, I'm trying to get a better sense of the Marais and to get in touch with other teachers on the program.
Also, I start teaching soon. When did I become a teacher? On the plus side, when I first got to Senegal I threw up 7 times in one day, so, you know, bumming around with free baguettes and coffee in the morning isn't really a bad way to go.
On y va!
Paris is way more touristy than I remember. I guess it's because the last time I was here, I stayed in the 17th arrondissement, which is a pretty French one, not close to any big attractions (unless you count Montmartre, but even that is pretty far away) and it's a good place to speak French and explore little boulangeries and cafes and not see other foreigners for days. The Marais is different. I hear English everywhere I go, and I can hardly get down Rue de Rivoli with having to stop at least once so I'm not in someone's picture. Granted, I'm not an expert on Paris, but I've been here so many times that sometimes it already feels like home. Other times I feel kind of like Carrie Bradshaw in the last episode of Sex and the City - lost, confused, on my own, which, obviously, I am, although I met some girls from Calgary at the hostel who are doing the same program as me, but in Poitiers.
I have my stage (orientation) on Thursday in Essonne, the region where the town I'm teaching in is located. I'll take the metro to the RER and see how confusing it is. Today I'm searching for a place to live - this morning I made about ten phone calls to people who'd posted on pap.fr (basically French craigslist) who all said their apartments were "deja loye." Comment dit-on "homeless"? The hostel's okay for now, but I'm hoping something more permanent will work out in the next few days. In the meantime, I'm trying to get a better sense of the Marais and to get in touch with other teachers on the program.
Also, I start teaching soon. When did I become a teacher? On the plus side, when I first got to Senegal I threw up 7 times in one day, so, you know, bumming around with free baguettes and coffee in the morning isn't really a bad way to go.
On y va!
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