All moved in

As you can see from the before and after pictures below, we have arrived.
Friday was our first night spent at our new apartment. Maki had the day off and we rented a van and did our final move from the temporary place. When we were done, we drove up to Ikea and loaded the van up again, this time with Billy bookcases and all the other usual stuff. Driving the van around the Etoile wasn't as bad as I expected. Yes, you just kind of have to be brave and go into the busy roundabout (no traffic lights or anything), but I guess my guardian angel was looking out for me that day and all went without a crash, scratch, or dent. As you can see, I put the missus to work!



¡POR FIN NOS MUDAMOS!

El viernes de noche fue nuestra primera noche en el apartamento nuevo. El viernes Maki se tomó el día libre, nos alquilamos una camioneta y mudamos las últimas cosas del apartamento temporario. Despues nos fuimos a Ikea a cargar la camioneta de cachivaches. Manejar por Paris resultó más facil de lo que temía. En el etoile, hay que tirarse a lo macho, nomás, pero me imagino que mi angel de la guardia estaría trabajando ese día porque fuimos y volvimos sin incidente. Como podrán ver por las fotos "before and after", nuestra presencia ya se siente en el apartamento, que parece más bagdád que paris. Poco a poco iremos organizando. Ya tenemos heladera y cocina. El martes nos llega la lavarropa y el 10 esperamos el horno.
Como podrán ver, la hice trabajar a la doña.

Suburban Bliss

This last weekend was spent heating up the old credit card. On Saturday, we bought all our electronic equipment for the kitchen (except an oven) at Darty, www.darty.com France's answer to Best Buy. We considered buying some of this equipment used, but then again we'd have to hire movers to deliver each and every single item, which would work out to cost a fortune (not to mention the hassle factor). Darty offers free delivery and apparently good post-sale service, oh, and their prices are no worse than anybody else's.

For those who missed the earlier post in Spanish: apartments here in Paris tend to come with stripped down kitchens: no fridge, no oven, no cabinets even. The tenant has to purchase all these things (or bring them from their former place). This means that when we eventually leave Paris, we'll have to get rid of all this stuff we just spent a fortune buying. Oh, well. I was happy to discover, however, that our apartment does come with a lovely doormat to scuff our shoes before entering the apartment. Very thoughtful of the landlord, but I would have preferred an equipped kitchen. C'est la vie, as the French say.





Anyway, after buying lots of "electromenagers" on Saturday, on Sunday we ventured out to the 'burbs in search of an oven and kitchen cabinets. Where else but Ikea? A train ride plus a bus ride took us out to a nondescript strip mall near Charles de Gaulle airport. From the attached pictures you'll be able to see that Paris isn't just grand boulevards and Haussmann style buildings. The French can do ugly, random suburbia, too.

The Ikea at Roissy is laid out exactly like the one in College Park, MD. Even the cafeteria selling the same Swedish meatballs is located in the same part of the store and looks exactly the same. They sell exactly the same stuff, too. The only thing that reminded me that I was in France and not Maryland was the presence of beer and wine in the aforementioned cafeteria. Dorothy: you're not in Maryland anymore. Furthermore a bottle of Swedish beer or a glass of wine (presumably not Swedish) costs exactly the same as a bottle of water or a coke (more on this in a later post: watch this space). Naturally, I had a Spendrup's with my Swedish meatballs.

Apartamento nuevo, por fin!!

IMG_1068
Originally uploaded by dmoppett

Bueno, ayer firmamos el famoso "Baille", el contrato de alquiler de nuestro nuevo apartamento.

Esto es un alivio porque aquí, el famoso baille es prueba vital de nuestra existencia y residencia en el país. Hoy Maki ya tuvo que mandar como 5 copias del contrato por fax. La aduana francesa no deja pasar nuestra mudanza sin ella. "La migra" no procesa los papeles de residencia sin ella. (o sea: ya vamos en camino a mejorar nuestro estatus de "espaldas mojadas"). El banco no puede mandarnos nada por correo sin ella. Es mas, hasta la necesito para cancelar mi contrato de teléfono celular en Washington como prueba que me fuí del país y no con la competencia.

Aqui pueden ver una foto desde el balcón.
Si se fijan, esa torrecita blanca que se ve arriba del techo del edificio, es la puntita más alta del Sacre Coeur de Montmartre.



Y aquí pueden ver nuestra cocina para enanos, que no solo es diminuta, sino que no tiene una sola pared ni superficie recta! Esperemos que los electrodomesticos quepan. Como se habrán dado cuenta, la cocina viene sin electrodomésticos y sin estantes. Básicamente viene sin nada. Esto es típico en Paris. Generalmente la gente se lleva todas esas cosas cuando se mudan. Me parece muy poco práctico, ya que los electrodomésticos en Francia no son caros, pero la mano de obra para subirlos a apartamentos (generalmente por escaleras chiquitas o por la ventana) e instalarlos sí lo es.

Bueh. ¡Por suerte hay varios "cafés" en la zona o sea que de hambre no nos vamos a morir!

Nuestro baño también es de lo mas eccéntrico.




La ducha está a como medio metro o más de altura...hay que treparse. Nos prometieron escalones, pero ya veremos cuan "demain" es el "demain" de los Parisinos. (me parece que ya andamos por apres-demain) Me pregunto como haría la gente que vivía en el apartamento antes: seguro que eran alpinistas. Como veran, el baño tiene un "look" de lo mas moderno y minimalista, medio japonés con piedritas en el piso de la ducha. Nada que ver con el resto del apartamento y sus espejos y estufas de leña (no funciona ninguna, pero son un lindo toque decorativo).

The mystery of Parisian merde

Paris is a very chien-friendly city. People here can take their dogs into stores, banks, and restaurants (and, we dare say, the dogs understand more French than we do). Parisians seem to prefer small breeds, like yorkies, Cavalier King Charles spaniels, lahsa apsos, and even the stereotypical poodle. And no wonder, considering that the size of the typical Parisian apartment is about the size of a California closet.

Although we both love dogs, we dont' like stepping into merde. Sadly, there are no "poop and scoop" laws in these parts. Some neighborhoods have posted signs stating, J'aime mon quartier, je ramasse (I love my neighborhood, I clean up), like the one below. Most Parisians, however, seem to barely notice these signs exist. Indeed, Parisians pay about as much attention to these signs as CDG customs officials pay to "tourists" bringing their entire household into the country in oversized suitcases.















Walking around the city, though, we've noticed a strange phenomenon: despite the small size of dogs here, these itty bitty dogs have enormous crottes! Can someone explain the following to us?

























-MD

Estereotipos

Uno llega a este país con cierta idea de como son las cosas, o como deben ser, o como uno se imagina que son. Por supuesto que al pasar el tiempo (aunque solo sean dos semanas), uno se va llevando sorpresas.

Primero: todos sabemos que los Parisinos son arrogantes, maleducados y poco amistosos; que detestan a los turistas y a los extranjeros en general. Pues, desde que llegamos todo el mundo nos ha tratado muy bien. Nos ha parado gente en el ómnibus a ver si estabamos perdidos y necesitabamos ayuda. Hasta los notorios mozos de los cafés nos han charlado con buenisima onda. Hablar un poco el idioma ayuda, sin duda, pero igual en la zona donde nos estamos quedando (que a veces parece una especie de ghetto anglosajón), nos hablan en inglés con gusto y hasta en español a veces. Ahora eso sí, les importan mucho los modales y la formalidad. Cuando he entrado en tiendas y he empezado "Pardon, madame, est-ce-que vous avez de...¨, me interrumpen y me dicen ¨bonjour, monsieur¨, como haciendome acordar que no las saludé.

Segundo: los Parisinos son todos flacos porque comen comida sana en porciones chicas. Juajaa.... Es cierto que no hay tanta gente gorda aquí como en los USA, pero los gorditos (y gorditas) no son tan escasos como uno se imagina. Eso de las porciones chicas es un cuento, también. Cada vez que hemos salido a comer por ahí nos hemos ido bien, pero bien satisfechos. Claro, nada como Cheesecake Factory, pero igual son generosas las porciones. El otro día me comí un choucroute que hubiera alcanzado como para tres. El couscous de la noche anterior casi no lo pude terminar (imaginense: ¡yo!).

Y eso de comer sano, bueh. Ya saben que la comida francesa puede ser bastante cremosa y grasosa. Aparte, no es por nada que esta ciudad esta llena de McDonalds, su imitación local que se llama Quick, y unas sandwicherias Turcas que hacen unos Shawarmas grasientos enormes. No es ningún complot del capitalismo yanqui ni turco. La explicación es muy sencilla: ¡a los franceses les encanta! Los McDo están siempre llenos y se ve pilas de gente sentada comiendo sus Big Mac en el jardín de Luxemburgo. También les encanta Starbucks y cuanta otra gringada haya flotando por ahí.

Ah, y acá tienen dulce de leche. Hoy comí un helado de ¨confiture de lait¨y no es excactamente igual, pero bastante parecido al nuestro.

-DM

Ecosse 1 France 0

We're in the middle of a sporting bonanza here in Paris. The Rugby World Cup is going on, having brought some remarkably well behaved rugger fans from around the world. It hasn't caused nearly as much excitement as the soccer match between Scotland and France the night before last. It seems like the entire male population of Caledonia descended upon Paris to cheer their team on. I have been in Scotland before, but never have I seen so many kilts and tartans as I have in Paris over the last few days. The bottom of the Eiffel tower seems to have been ground zero for the Pictish invasion:



It's clear that these lads believe that you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. Oh, and I want to be the importer of Timberland shoes in Scotland, as they seem to have become a part of the traditional tribal costume by now.

But hey, at least those unruly Pictish hordes have some spirit, and they know how to kick back and have some fun. Which leads me to wonder, where are all the French fans?? From the proportion of fans on the streets the past couple of days, anybody would have thought Scotland was playing Equatorial Guinea. Do the French not care whether their team wins or loses? Or are they too buttoned up to sing and cheer on the streets?

-DM

Apartment search

We've spent two long and tiring days looking at apartments. We saw roughly 20 apartments in different parts of the city, mostly concentrating our search in the 9th 10th and 18th arrondissements. We were accompanied the whole time by our agent, and at each apartment had to meet up with the landlord's agent, so don't let it be said that French real-estate agents don't work hard for their living.

Most of the apartments we saw were charming turn-of-the century apartments with wooden floors and some even with fireplaces. We also saw some more modern ones with cheap wall-to-wall carpeting, but we figure if we're living in Paris we might as well live Parisian style.

We've narrowed down our favorites to three:








Even though the last one is a bit out in the suburbs, it is our favorite of the three because it has lots of mirrors, plenty of closet space and a nice view over a park with fountains. We heard a rumor, however, that the previous occupants were beheaded by a mob, so we're a little concerned about the safety of the neighborhood.

(Y para los que entienden de estas cosas: que conste que en el Versailles de Paris no hay ni arroz moro, ni café con leche, ni pastelitos de guayaba)

Nous sommes arrivés

Well, we're finally here in Paris: our home for the next few years.

On arrival everything has gone smoothly, aided by the universal WD-40 of corruption, which is always an encouraging sign!

Mostly we're thrilled to finally be on our own again, considering that we've spent most of the few months that followed our wedding sleeping on the Aerobed in Maki's parents' house...always a good way to start off married life.

Ok, so back to the corruption: for starters, we showed up way too early to check in our bags at the Miami airport (they're not supposed to take them more than 4 hours before the flight). Our bags were also overweight. Oh, and by the way, you're not supposed to do curbside check-in for international flights. Fortunately, we WERE in Miami, where there's no problem that can't be solved with a smile and $40. (if you can't muster up a smile, the $40 alone shold do the trick). So, off we went, trying not to think too hard about what other sorts of things can be bribed onto aircraft at MIA.

Next on our arrival in Paris; where we should have been interrogated, searched and possibly deported, we were waved through by some very bored looking officials. Note to smugglers and illegal aliens: Charles de Gaulle terminal 2A: you heard it here first!!

My fears about kafkaeske bureaucratic catch 22's have proved unfounded. It undoubtedly helps to have "the professionals" behind one. All it takes is to know what form you have to fudge in order to satisfy whatever requirement. Luckily, plenty of people have been willing to help us do the fudging. This is a place where it pays to know people who know people.

The last couple of days we have been touring Paris with a relocation consultant whose job it is to help us find an apartment. We've seen about 20 apartments. Apparently, laws in France are very friendly to tenants and it's very difficult to get evicted. For this reason, landlords are understandably picky about who they rent to and will require all sorts of things like cosigners, bank guarantees, etc. Some will flat-out refuse to rent to foreigners (yes, go ahead, blame it all on us foreigners, everybody else does.). Having the help of our consultant is apparently very important.

For instance, landlords won't rent to you unless you can show proof of a bank account that they can debit for the rent. Banks generally won't open an account for you unless you have proof of address in the form of a lease agreement or a utility bill (utility bills are apparently crucial pieces of identification in France and are required for all sorts of transactions). So the question arises: how does one go about obtaining either a lease or a bank account without the other?

The answer is: somebody has to be willing to fudge some papers for you somewhere along the way. If you have relocation consultants being paid to help you, that's no problem. If you're some poor sucker who just showed up here, then you'd better go out and make some friends very quickly if you don't want to end up living under a bridge.