Call me Mr. Bricolage

I've spent the last few days doing "bricolage", which is the French word for Do-it-yourself. Since our kitchen came stripped, I've had to install kitchen cabinets, shelves, etc, as well as curtain rods for the curtains.

Keep in mind that the walls here aren't drywall, they're solid cement. Well, actually, the walls that should be strong enough to support the weight of cabinets are drywall, and the ones which don't really matter are solid cement, but I digress.

Fortunately, our building's "gardien" (caretaker), who is a nice Portuguese fellow, has lent me his power drill, ladder, saw, etc. The power drill was particularly important: I had to make lots of holes in the cement. We hope the owner doesn't mind if we fill them up with toothpaste when we leave! The gardien also helped me put up the kitchen cabinets and find the right sort of anchors so they could be put on drywall without crashing down from the weight (we hope).

The funny thing is that since I really haven't done that much DIY before moving here, I have now learned a series of French terms for tools and equipment that I simply don't know how to say in English. I imagine someday I'll be at Home Depot at Mall of the Americas asking for chevilles or boulons a expansion. That's OK, the people who work at Home Depot at Mall of the Americas probably don't speak English either. (¿ Y este pa' que me habla en haitiano?)

I must say, though, that after a few hard days' work, I'm quite proud with the results, which I will share with you in these before and after pictures.

French prices are driving me to drink

Ok. so the dollar is tumbling against the Euro and Europe is not exactly a cheap place to be for those of us living on the modest greenback. Even so, many things in Paris aren't nearly as expensive as one might imagine (while others are just incomprehensively outrageous). There sometimes seems to be little rhyme or reason to the pricing regime here. A few weeks ago I went out to our local vegetable seller to buy some vegetables for dinner and ended up spending close to 30 Euros for some mushrooms and some salad. Turns out these mushrooms (cepes) cost 40 Euros a kilo, and they aren't even the magic kind!!! I figured I must have stumbled upon some rare delicacy along the lines of truffles from Perigord, but then I saw that another vegetable shop around the block sold the very same cepes for only 12 Euros a kilo. What gives? Did I just happen to stumble upon a pirate vegetable seller? Not really: many of his other products were very reasonably priced, some less so than the local Leader Price (cheap-o supermarket).

Why this big difference in prices? I have no idea, but you really need to check the prices before you buy in this town, and it pays to shop around.

Which leads me to the price of eating and drinking out in cafes and such. While a night out on the town in Paris is certainly not cheap, the prices of food in Cafes is not necessarily that expensive compared to the US, when you consider that what you see on the menu is what you pay (taxes are included and you normally don't have to leave big tips, just round up if the service was good). Many Parisian restaurants and cafes have some sort of fixed price deal where you can get appetizers, mains and dessert for a set price (around 11 Euros at the cheaper sort of establishment). The real profit generators seem to be the drinks. Maki and I have noticed that we don't hydrate well when we're out and about, but that's because a small bottle of water or a canned soft drink costs no less than 4 Euros at most places, so it kinda hurts to go get a can of coke or a bottle of Evian when you're thirsty. But here's the funny part: at just about any restaurant or cafe a half-pint of beer or a glass of wine costs about the same, or maybe only 50 cents more. At those kind of prices, why bother drinking water? If you're going to plonk down the cash, you might as well get some alcohol, right? Water??? Fish have sex in water.

So, it seems the pricing system for drinks in this country is driving the population towards alcoholism (or us, in any event).

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