10 Things

I’m in the midst of setting things up for my future – both immediately and farther forward. Exciting things on the horizon include a WWOOF trip in the south of France, a sailing trip off the northern coast of France, travel to London, Barcelona, and eastern Europe, and visits from my parents, cousin, and possibly some friends from home! (That’s if I can save up enough cash, wow.)

I am also applying to graduate school in Paris for fall 2013 and looking into some options in California as well. I am agonizing over the decision of what direction to go in after this summer – it’s a tough choice! After living somewhere for 2 years, it’s hard to pick up and leave. Actually, I’ll be honest, deciding how long to stay has been a decision that has plagued me since I arrived. My anxiety of “where to live, what to do” comes and goes but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be 100% happy where I am? Luckily I have some time until I have to make a final decision, so until then, I’m focusing on the fun stuff and enjoying myself!

Here’s what I’m loving lately…

1. Watching the snow melt (ok this was like a month ago but it’s still cool!)

2. Radishes as a snack

crunchy goodness

3. A fun party where I learned, and then forgot, some Portuguese. I do remember how to say cheers (saúde!) – an important word to know in any language, I say.

My friend Kat and I

4. I am a choir dork 4 lyfe

PCS for Paris Choral Society

5. Making a cake, forgetting the flour, covering the mistake in ganache. My tip for this cake, other than DON’T FORGET THE FLOUR, is to whip the egg whites when they are truly at room temperature. Mine whipped up in like one minute, it was amazing.

Ganache fixes all mistakes, right?

6. Velib!!! I feel like SUCH a baller biking around Paris. I biked home from class the other day – from St. Michel, past Notre Dame, all the way down Rue de Rivoli past the Louvre, through Place de la Concorde (still trying to figure out how to get through there without dying or having to walk my bike through crosswalks) and up the Champs-Élysées to chez moi. I don’t think I’ll ever have a commute like this again.

7. Been listening to a new-to-me fun French artist, discovered through an American friend.

8. Instead of using bookmarks on my browser, I started using Feedly to organize all my online reads. I’m into it! You can organize the sources you read in many different ways and it keeps all my mindless internet reading in one place so I can choose when to zone out online.

9. My old furniture was replaced with shiny new Ikea stuff! In case you are curious about what my apartment looks like, here are some pics. Sorry it’s not neater.

Entry

Bed

Table and new chairs

Kitchen area

Hi!

10. I had the pleasure of going to a gathering at a friend’s apartment in Montrouge, a city right outside Paris. They just opened up a new metro stop on the line 4 and I was SO excited to check it out! It’s so cool to imagine people in 100 years feeling about the Montrouge stop the way I feel about the older metro stations in Paris proper. Here are some pictures I took (I’m such a dork):

Bright and shiny

It’s so clean and bright!

So excited to be in a new metro station!

Clean white bench on a clean street

I become accustomed to the dirt, grime, and noise in Paris. Just beyond the Rue Périphérique, life is instantly calm and quiet. It’s nice to be in a big exciting city, but I’m happy to get out every once in awhile.

Scrabble

The other day, I had to stay home with the boy I babysit because he was “sick.” He had truly been sick the day before, but it was clear to me that he was well enough to go to school. He insisted that he needed to stay home, so I was stuck. It was frustrating for me, since I had things to take care of and the sun was shining. Funny enough, I used to stay home from school all the time when I was little – I guess that was karma coming around to bite me in the ass!

Despite my annoyance at the circumstances, we had a great time together. We played Scrabble, allowing both French and English words. This is now my new favorite way to play – it really opens up your options! It was a great game for us to play together because we both learned some new words. I learned the word for “burp” – un rot, and taught him the words seam, nub, and yam.

After the game, I made him practice the piano because he was definitely not sick. While listening to him play, I started doing some yoga on the carpet. He wanted to join in so I began teaching him some poses. Sidenote: kids are so flexible, it’s annoying! We did some crunches together and he helped push down on my knees while I was stretching out my legs. I like getting paid to work out! We were hanging out on the floor cooling down, talking about the splits, and he remarked that it would be much easier to do the splits if you had a seam for a leg. I was so confused until I finally realized he had mixed up “seam” and “nub!” Oops! We both cracked up imagining a seam on someone’s leg.

I’m proud of him for trying to use new words in conversation right away! I doubt he’ll ever mix up those words again, now that he has a fun memory to go along with them. I have made similar errors countless times since I moved here. Making mistakes in French has allowed me to learn and retain far more than if I depended solely on my flashcards. (My friends’ mistakes have been cemented in my mind as well. I’ll never forget my friend Kelly’s mistake of asking friends of her bf whether they were going to cook something à poil [naked] instead of à la poêle [in a frying pan]. Poil and poêle are pronounced the exact same way {pwal}, so that little “la” made a big difference. Eek!)

Perhaps this can be applied to life in general as well. After my recent visa debacle, I am so much more aware of paperwork and fine print. As I embark on another semester of school, some travel, and then deciding what to do next fall, I will try to remind myself not to fear the mistakes that I will surely make, but just remember to learn from them and hopefully not repeat the same ones twice!

If you have similar language mess-up stories, feel free to share in the comments below. It’s embarrassing but you might as well laugh it off!

Visas to France – Part 2

So picking up where I left off…A week after my breakdown at the SF consulate I received a call informing me that I could come pick up my passport. I arrived and of course the same man was there to give it to me. I hated him with all of my soul. I didn’t even say hello; I didn’t feel he deserved a single word or any indication from me that I thought he deserved politeness, as I felt he had given me the same indication. He handed me my passport, open to the page with my visa on it. I was shocked. He had given me a visa? He said, that’s the best I could do, and I looked at the expiration date: February 1, 2013. Triumphant, I left without saying goodbye. I had prevailed! (spoiler alert: I had not prevailed! Mistake #2)

I went back to Paris in September (2012) and had a great time in my program at the Sorbonne. Maybe one day I will write a post about my experience in the program, but for now I’ll just say that I highly recommend it. My professor was great and I improved so much. I went home for Christmas, and my visa didn’t expire until February, so I decided to just deal with extending my visa in Paris after I got back from the States for the holidays. (Mistake #3)

I flew ALL THE WAY TO OAKLAND, CA for Christmas and did not use the opportunity to go to the consulate and get a new visa. This is because I didn’t know that I needed a new visa. I thought I had a student visa, which can easily be extended in France if you have all the right paperwork (which I do). Surprise! The mean man at the consulate did not give me a student visa. He gave me a special type of visa that is called “long séjour temporaire – dispense titre de séjour.” I didn’t notice. I had looked over the visa a few times after I stupidly left the consulate without asking any follow-up queestions, and I just didn’t notice that “étudiant” was not anywhere to be found. I guess I was looking, but not seeing. If I had noticed, I could have looked here, where it lists my exact type of visa and then states underneath: This is a temporary visa to stay in France for 3-6 months. The owner of the visa is not allowed to apply for a carte de séjour in France; they must return to their home country when it expires.

Sure enough, when I went to three different offices of the Prefecture de Police in Paris I was told the same thing by everyone working there: you have to go back to the US. I felt so stupid for not realizing sooner (before Christmas, for example!). As the reality of my situation sunk in, so did the devastation. The thought of leaving France brought me to tears all that week- if I’d had any doubts about whether I wanted to stay before, they were definitely gone now. I spent the week attempting to find a way to renew my visa without having to return to the US. I even worked with this company to see if they could find a solution. If you find yourself in a similar situation as me, I highly recommend that you contact Olivier – he’s a tireless creative thinker who can find a solution to almost any problem that involves French bureaucrats. I say almost because even he couldn’t get around my visa.

Luckily, the round-trip tickets were the lowest price I’ve ever seen them! So, I made an appointment at the French consulate in SF, booked my ticket, and came back home just one month after I had left from Christmas. I triple checked what documents I would need and I had several people look at the website with me to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. I am now humble and admit that everyone needs two pairs of eyes for things like this! I went on Monday morning to my appointment, and sure enough, it was the same man from the summer.

I waited in the row of chairs, breathing slowly and deeply. When he called my name, I braced myself for an evil glare or a snarky comment. But I shouldn’t have flattered myself that much, because he had no idea who I was. He asked for papers one by one, and I provided everything instantly. We discussed everything in French and he didn’t correct me, although I know I made some weird mistakes because I was nervous. He asked me why I was going and my reply was that I wanted to learn French. When he found out that I had already completed a bachelor’s degree, he asked me why I hadn’t majored in French. The way he said it, he made it seem like I was stupid for not beginning my French studies at the age of 5. I replied as politely and nicely as possible even though I was thinking: Um…because I majored in music?! I also mentioned that I will apply for a Master’s in France for next fall.

After that, everything went smoothly and he said it would take less than a week. I got a call on Wednesday that I could come in to pick up my passport. I went in on Thursday and when he called me up, something was wrong. He had all the documents from my dossier spread out. He informed me that I had not re-registered for Campus France and paid the fee again, and that I would have to register again and reapply for a visa after I received all the documentation from Campus France. I knew there was no way that would be an option for me, since it would take weeks to do all of that. I stayed calm and simply said, hmmm, that poses a little bit of a problem…

He agreed. I kept saying gently and with a bit of pleading, I just didn’t know, I didn’t know you had to re-register with Campus France…and he was silent for a bit. He told me to sit down and wait. When he called me back up he said, I decided to give it to you anyways. !!! I looked at the visa in my passport he had just handed me, and saw that it was a student visa for a whole year. He must have really trusted me when I said I was applying for a Master’s. Why couldn’t he have trusted me when I said I was taking 2 semesters of classes? That is what makes me want to pull my hair out when dealing with these people. But whatever…this time I really had prevailed!

This whole experience has been anything but fun. It was costly, stressful, and frustrating. But at least I learned some big lessons during this whole process.

1 – It never helps to get overly emotional when dealing with governmental procedures. Those people are just doing their jobs (poorly) and they have to follow the rules (loosely). You have no power – accept it! You might get caught with someone when they are having a bad day, or when body-snatchers have taken over, as was clearly the case with my friend at the SF consulate. So be polite, say you are wrong, say they are right, don’t yell, and hope for the best.

2 – Apparently I am blind; it’s best to ask for help when things are really precise.

3 – Start these processes early. Give yourself time to f*ck up and then time to fix things so you don’t have to buy international flights unexpectedly.

4 – As with pretty much everything in life, have about 5x as much in your savings than you think you’ll need.

5 – Accept change. Part of the reason why I had remained so calm the second time at the consulate was because I had accepted my fate. I wasn’t sure if I would get a new visa, so I had already made a plan to move back to Oakland and work until I could save up enough to move back to France. If I hadn’t gotten another student visa, I would have made it work. There is not only one city that I can live in and be happy! I try to do the best I can with hurdles that come up, and then move on! But, lucky for me, I get to go back! See you back in Paris.

Visas to France – Part 1

I’m going to tell you a story. My purpose here is not to bore you or embarrass myself (although it might seem like the opposite!); it’s to prevent someone else from making the same mistakes I have made.

When I first moved to Paris, I was with a program called TAPIF (Teaching Assistant Program in France). They provided us with all the information we needed to know about the process that would allow us to legally work and live in France. As problems arose, we were able to communicate with a member of their staff whose sole purpose was to help us teaching assistants pre-departure.

I didn’t really understand or care about the processes I went through to get my visa. I just followed the directions given to me in my TAPIF handbook. All I understood at the time was that there was a ton of paperwork, it was both stressful and boring, and if I just did what they said, I could move on and actually BE in France, eating baguettes every day.

By spring of 2011, I knew that I wanted to stay in France longer but having been rejected for a second year of TAPIF, I needed something else to do. I knew several people who had taken French classes at the Sorbonne and it seemed like a perfect fit – a great way to get a student visa to prolong my stay in France as well as deepen my knowledge of the French language. At my appointment to sign up for classes, I told the woman (for whom I believe French was not her native language) that I wanted to take two semesters of classes. She happily accepted my credit card to pay a deposit and printed out a confirmation sheet. I glanced at the sheet to make sure it stated the school’s name and address and had an official stamp, since I had read on the French consulate’s website that those things were very important in order to be approved for a visa. All was well (spoiler alert: all was NOT well, mistake #1), and I flounced out of the office, off to a picnic with friends.

Come early July, I had packed up my little room (leaving most of my things with my second au pair family) and said à bientôt to all my friends. Back in Oakland for two months, I spent the summer seeing friends, working in my mom’s office, petting my cats, and attending my brother’s wedding. A few weeks before I was scheduled to fly back to Paris, I had my visa appointment at the consulate in San Francisco. I had read through all the required documents on their website and brought them all with me to the appointment. I chatted in French with the girl who reviewed and approved my dossier. While waiting to be called up to take my visa picture, I was mentally high-fiving myself for how awesome my French had gotten and how I totally had my shit together.

Not so fast. The supervisor was in possession of my dossier and he called me up to the window. He said flatly that he couldn’t issue me a visa. I tried to remain calm, even as I was inwardly panicking about the logistical nightmare that would follow if I was not granted a visa. Would I have to fly back to France and bring all my stuff home? Could I get a refund on my school tuition? As we continued talking, I got more and more frustrated – he had a really irritating way of cutting off every sentence I began. Finally, he explained (rudely) that on my application form I had requested a visa until May, but the receipt from the Sorbonne that I had provided only showed payment for one semester. The woman at the Sorbonne had misunderstood me and I didn’t notice!

I still don’t understand why this man at the consulate couldn’t just say, I can give you a student visa until January and then you can extend it at the prefecture once you are there. Instead he kept saying too bad, I’m not issuing one to you. I got really upset as it sunk in that he was denying me. I had just had a great year abroad and loved it so much that I wanted to stay. I had gone through all the stress of finding a new place to live and work, moved my possessions across Paris, and arranged my finances to be able to pay for classes which would be a great step toward a possible career in France or a French-speaking company. I had flown all the way back to California, I had navigated their stupid shitty website to make my visa appointment, and made tons of copies of stupid forms and documents. I had paid $140 to Campus France (a completely useless organization) just to be able to study there. And now this stranger was telling me no?!

And he wasn’t just saying no, he was saying it in the meanest way possible. When I explained in a trembling voice that I had used my savings to pay for school and my expensive round-trip ticket and that I HAD to get a visa, he said, No, you would LIKE to get a visa. You would LIKE to go to France. It’s ME who decides, not you! I can turn you away if I want to. Then he suggested, seriously, that I go back to the school IN PARIS and sign up for the spring semester as well. It was AUGUST, the month when most French people take vacation and leave France. The school was definitely not open, and obviously I couldn’t afford to fly over just to get a stupid piece of paper.

His tone, words, and message INFURIATED me. I hate being told what to do, and I really felt that he was being unnecessarily mean. I started sobbing uncontrollably. He said I could put the application in but he would probably reject it. I had to take my picture anyways and my face looks so sad in it. I left the consulate and continued to cry on the street in San Francisco, where three different strangers approached me to comfort me. One guy stopped me, grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye, saying firmly, “It’s gonna be ok.” A girl said something similar. On BART, an older man grabbed my hands and prayed to God to quiet my soul. Wow! Even though I was really upset, I still was laughing a bit on the inside at these three random people who wanted to comfort me, all in very different ways.

Now that I’ve had six months to get over it, I realize that I approached the situation with the wrong attitude. Yes, I am an independent individual who is free to make her own choices. But when entering a foreign country, especially to do something other than tourist activities, a part of your freedom must be surrendered. Other countries have the right to place restrictions on those who want to enter for whatever reason and compliance is mandatory. I knew in my mind that I was 100% planning to sign up for another semester in the spring. I know that I am a trust-worthy person and that I have never intended to work illegally or become a terrorist in France. But the French government doesn’t know that – they need proof. My paperwork did not prove that, so he had every reason to deny my request. The French are not known for their stellar customer-service, and this man was a living example of how they tend to deal with people.

Part 2 coming soon!

Happy Nouilles

In December, I decided to check out this noodle place I’d read about on Girl’s Guide to Paris. I met up with Phoebe to try it for the first time; she was running late, so I stood outside and noticed that one of the chefs was making the noodles I was about to eat by hand!  I quickly became engrossed as she took a large chunk of dough in her hands and stretched her arms wide, pulling the dough with her as she went. She did this repeatedly until she had an armful of noodles. Who knew it was so simple?!  Every so often she would look up at me and smile, and I’d try to slyly look away and pretend I wasn’t drooling.

Phoebe and I sat at one of the tiny tables and we both ordered the noodle soup called “Zati” that is made with spicy ground pork. It’s hard to know which aspect of this amazing soup to devour first – the spicy and flavorful broth, the chewy and salty noodles, the meat and beans hidden throughout, or the sprinkling of onions and cilantro that freshen it up.

This is embarrassing but the following fact will illustrate how good this place is: I went to Happy Nouilles three times in three weeks and returned a fourth time last weekend. It snowed for a few days last week and I was chilled to the bone.  I knew this soup would be the perfect thing for a snowy Saturday.  Now I’m hoping it snows again so I can return, although if it doesn’t I’ll probably go anyways. 

Happy Nouilles
95 Rue Beaubourg
75003 Paris
metro Arts et Métiers
*be aware that it’s usually packed and there is not much space between each table – not the most comfortable dining experience but delicious all the same

Chocolate Chip Cookies

I wouldn’t categorize chocolate chip cookies as my favorite cookie, but I have always enjoyed them (as I am not a crazy person!). Many of my childhood memories involve this classic cookie. My cousin Christi and I loved baking cookies together when I was little and she came to live with us after college. I would yell at her for not leveling off the cups of flour perfectly with a knife. I was unaware of how many times she had probably made these particular cookies in her life, and as a novice baker, I was convinced she would ruin them if the measurements weren’t perfect. (One time, she did mess them up – something went wrong with the eggs or the butter, and when she removed them from the baking sheet to the cooling rack, they were so liquid that they started dripping through the cracks of the rack. Later, my brothers and I wondered aloud why there were holes in the cookies, and more importantly, could we still eat them?)

My mom would make them every so often and we’d be able to sneak them for snacks or dessert from a tupperware or tin in the kitchen. She perfected her recipe over the years; the version she makes today, with Ghiradelli chocolate chips and shredded coconut mixed into the dough, is hands down my favorite version that no cookie will ever top. Their taste and texture will always remind me of home – chasing cats around my house to the soundtrack of my mom talking on the phone, my brothers practicing drums, bass, and guitar or my dad playing piano. The recipe was in its final version by the time I was in high school, so the taste of those cookies alleviated my homesickness when I lived in Washington state and Prague, and hopefully Paris too after my mom reads this.

My mom baking up a storm at Christmas

Actually, as I reflect on my relationship with chocolate chip cookies, I realize that no occasion has been too insignificant to bust out the bowl and wooden spoon. I remember some nights in college when, exhausted from endless music practicing, rehearsals, hours logged in the library writing papers and in stupid sorority meetings, a girlfriend and I would gather those oh-so-simple ingredients and make that bowl of sugary, sticky comfort. Kelly, Phoebe, and I had more than one occasion last year when, needing an escape from the difficult task of finding ourselves in this beautiful city, we needed to take a virtual trip back to the US and make some buttery, chocolate-y dough to eat off spoons and bake, tout de suite.

Last week I made some chocolate chip cookies for my crémaillère on Saturday. What cookie would be more appropriate to welcome myself and my guests into a new home than the ultimate comfort cookie? Facing a lack of beaters, I creamed the butter and sugar by hand. It was easier and quicker than I thought it would be – so if you find yourself somewhere with chocolate chip cookie fixings and fancy, but without an electric mixer, I am here to tell you that you can succeed! Just cube the butter like you would for scones and let it come to room temperature. Then use the back of a wooden spoon to mush it up and incorporate the sugar in, and you’ll be ready to create your own memories.

Coming to room temperature

I doubt I am the only person in the world with an emotional attachment to chocolate chip cookies. Do you equate chocolate chip cookies with home, or is it a different treat for you?

Where is sweetmaddy?

It’s been hard for me to share as many food-centered posts in the past few months. I do still cook frequently and bake relatively often, but I doubt you want to read about the Thanksgiving pie I made with store-bought (albeit delicious, French butter-laden) crust and stringy (due to lack of blending tool) home-roasted pumpkin, or my nourishing but not exactly blog-worthy meals of veggie stir-fry, grilled cheese, roasted chicken thighs, and risotto made with the cheapest food I can find in my chic, Eiffel Tower quartier.

Even fromage has Christmas lights

Is it completely obvious that I’m kind of resenting my situation these days? It’s time to face the facts: I’ve been here for 14 months and my money is running out. My lack of real job and real paycheck is becoming harder and harder to ignore. I’m tired of not having a career path! While I love being here and I have been profiter-ing it up (wandering, croissants, creamy melty chocolate found for cheap at Monoprix, wine all the time, museums, cafe reading/writing/people-meeting, friends, making discoveries, singing, etc) I’m starting to think that this vacation might need to end soon.

Reading on the Seine sous soleil

When I decided to come here, my return date was unknown. I had a feeling I would love France, and I was right. I always yearn for home but this is now home #2. The thought of leaving seems so impossible. This is who I am now – a girl who lives in Paris. I’ve fulfilled one of my desires in life and learned French, and now I get to use it and perfect it every day. This is the exact wrong time to leave. Going home feels like it would be a defeat. Like I would be giving in, taking the easy path, and throwing away a wonderful future. If I leave now, I will just be another 20-something living in the Bay Area, with no more idea of what to do than I have right now. And would my French go the way of Friendster?

In a way though, I feel exactly the same about staying. I don’t know what job I would get here either. I would be throwing away an easier, warmer, and family- and burrito-filled life in the Bay Area for an expensive, cramped, dirty, and freezing cold life in Paris. Plus, if I end up falling in love here and having kids, I would be dooming them to a life of seeing their extended family quite infrequently – something that I have always vowed to avoid at all costs for my future kids, if they end up existing.

After writing this, I am realizing that this post isn’t really about which country to live in, although that is a condundrum. I am just lost. I have so many ideas of what I want to do and I don’t know where to start and if any of them will ever work out. I feel like I am not “fill-in-the-blank-with-all-my-insecurities” enough to accomplish any of my goals. The only solution to starting out any of my possible career choices is needing a ton of money that I don’t have. I can’t seem to get around this roadblock…

I don’t want to be depressing, I just want to be real. I am still happy and I find light and joy every day. But, I have all these thoughts in the back of my head all the time, and I needed to get them out. I also know that I am not the first person to have these feelings. I realize that it’s very common for people in their 20s, but I imagine that through many stages of life this problem can occur.

Are you lost? Are you found? Do you feel stuck like I do, or do you have it all figured out for the moment? If so, how did you do it?

Brahms’ Requiem with Paris Choral Society

It is that time again – choir concert time! The 2.5 hours I spend every Monday night singing with my fellow music-lovers of varying nationalities and ages will prove to be time well spent this weekend. We are performing Brahms’ Requiem (full title: Ein deutsches Requiem, nach Worten der heiligen Schrift) composed 1865-8. I am very excited to perform this 70-minute work!

***Scroll down to the bottom for concert details.***

What is a requiem?

“The word Requiem is Latin for ‘rest.’ Originally, in the Latin liturgical tradition, Misse pro Defunctis (Mass for the Dead) began with the words Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis (Give them eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them). A very small portion of the Latin text came from the Bible, but it was apparently composed for the express purpose of observing a mass for the departed.”

-from Kirchenmuzik, notes for the Milwaukee Master Singers

Although the text of a Requiem is religious in origin, one doesn’t have to be particularly religious to appreciate this music. Everyone can relate to the concept of death, whether they subscribe to the teachings of the Bible or not. Participating in a Requiem, whether by listening or performing, is a glorious way to honor and remember the dead. Perhaps grief and sadness, not just relating to death but to a loss of any sort, can be put to rest.

I love that each of the seven movements in this requiem are unique. I don’t enjoy singing or listening to music that is too repetitive – good job Herr Brahms for keeping my interest! I am also enjoying the voices of our baritone and soprano soloists, Rodney Earl Clarke and Elizabeth Procuronoff; you’d have to be deaf not to appreciate the facility, power, and beauty of both voices. The orchestra is wonderful too; there are so many beautiful moments in the instrumental part and the players bring so much musicality to the work. I am quite excited for this concert – it’s not one to miss!

The quotation below was written about the 7th and final movement, but I think it applies to the whole work.

“The music of the finale if full and rich but not showy. It is a finale with the same lyrical sweetness, the same austerity, humility, and limpid ecstasy that the Requiem possesses from its opening measures. It ends gently as the work began, without Beethovenian perorations or Handelian kettledrums, but with submission to the inevitable, a peace not of paradise but of deepest rest…With a radiant gentleness the music dies away on its opening word: selig=blessed” (Jan Swafford, Johannes Brahms, italics mine)

Friday 30 November 2012 20h (8:00pm)
Saturday 1 December 2012 18h (6:00pm)
10€ student, 20€ general
Cathédrale américain
23 ave George V 75008 Paris
Métro: 9 Alma-Marceau; 1 George V

Hope to see you there!

Low Budget Living in Paris

Paris is one of the most expensive cities in the world. You would be astonished at how quickly money can be spent here. I am nearing my 14th month of living here, and I’ve discovered a few ways to keep my spending down. Hope this is helpful!

Website Jenna of Paris Cheapskate always has current information about low-cost entertainment all over Paris.

Opera Brave the cold and wait for standing room tickets on Sundays at Opéra Bastille. Be one of the first 20 people to arrive and you can purchase a ticket for 5€.

Museums These museums are free on the first Sunday of the month (plan for lines, but it’s worth it!). The city-owned museums are free all the time – here is a list in French. Sometimes there will be a temporary exhibition that costs extra, but you can stay in the free part.

Coffee Pop into a cafe and stand at the bar – the prices are lower than if you sit.

Magazines some women’s magazines will have “prix special” for 1€ or 2€. I like to buy one every once in awhile for fun/French practice. Bonus: use pretty fashion photos for wall decoration

Movies affordable movie-watching! UGC Gobelins in the 13th: under-26 4,50€ student 7,30€ and UGC Bercy: under-26 4,90€ student 7,50€. Normal prices are usually around the 9-10€ range so these are great rates!

Boulangeries most croissants, pain aux raisins, etc. only cost a few euros, but many boulangeries have mini-viennoiseries for less than 1€. If I really don’t want to spend a lot or am feeling guilty about eating a whole pastry I will go for a tiny croissant or pain au chocolat – no guilt!

Happy Hours I think it’s funny that they use the English expression Happy Hour but always with the s at the end. If you think about it, it actually makes more sense, since who ever stays for just one hour? Many, many bars in Paris have Happy Hours, ranging from 17h-22h, usually with prices around 3,50€-5€ for a drink. The catch is that each bar has a different schedule, so you need to pay attention to the menu and signs. Be sure to check the website or their menu if you are planning to drink this way and counting on the lower prices.

Printing I buy 15 minutes of internet for 1,99€ at Milk, and email whatever I am printing to myself beforehand. When I arrive at Milk it takes me just a few minutes to log on and print (for 0,40€ per black-and-white page) and then log off. I keep my login slip in my wallet and use the same one several times!

Bathrooms If you do choose to sit down and dine or drink somewhere, use the bathroom as many times as you can before you leave. Public bathrooms cost money and you can’t just walk into any store and use the bathroom like you can most places in the US. The exceptions I have found: BHV has a restroom on the 5th floor that always has a line but is my go-to pit stop when I am (usually window-)shopping near Hôtel de Ville (btw, window-shopping = lèche-vitrines, “licking windows” in French); any McDonald’s or Starbucks have public bathrooms, and the employees don’t say a word if you walk in and use them and then leave without purchasing. I do this all the time and feel no guilt because they are big evil companies.

Internet MacDo and Starbucks also have free internet that I will shamelessly use in a pinch. Once in awhile I do indulge in a super-sugary latte (they have pumpkin lattes here this year!) but the lines are always so long that I will work on my laptop for an hour or two before the line goes down at all. I figure if they are going to charge me 5€ for a drink, then if I pay for it a few times that equals free internet whenever I need it.

Miscellaneous Floss, contact solution, batteries, deodorant and mascara all cost SO much more here than in the US. If you are coming from the US, stock up before you come and you’ll have more money for things like wine and cheese, which are cheaper here than in the US!

And finally…Walk Around! There is so much to see, and not enough time to really take it all in! When I am bored and don’t want to break a 20€ bill, I go for a walk and take a new turn somewhere. I never regret it. Even in the rain!

Chambre de Bonne

Those smokestacks never get old

Before I came to Paris, I would not have been able to define chambre de bonne. Now, I’m surprised when people don’t know what I am talking about when I say I live in one. As I pondered this the other day, I realized that if fellow Francophiles haven’t heard the term, it’s probably unlikely that friends and family back home have any idea where I live now, room-wise. Allow me to explain!

This is not my building, but mine looks similar

Many families who employ au pairs live in apartment building that have tiny apartments on the top floor of the building available for rent. The rooms are normally very tiny (think 10-15 meters squared), with sloped ceilings, a sink, and maybe a shower and toilet, although many of them have shared showers and toilets on the same floor. There is usually a separate entrance in the same building as the more expensive apartments. Sometimes, the entrance is labeled “Service” and usually there is no elevator for this part of the building. Originally, these rooms were rented to maids, but nowadays these rooms host people like me who work as au pairs, as well as other non-au pairs looking to save on rent in a very expensive city.

Steep spiral

Some days, I find my room very romantic. I think about how many other people have lived in it since the building was built back in the day. What were their stories? I see a swath of sky through the skylight that sometimes transports me to Montana, it’s so large and unobstructed. I take pleasure in the fact that I climbed seven stories to get inside, which never fails to raise my heartrate and has definitely tightened my derrière. I am helping to occupy every last millimeter of space in this building instead of letting it go to waste. For such a tiny room, there is an awful lot of storage for my precious junk. At the end of the day, I have a roof over my head, a warm bed, and a lock on the door. That last sentence becomes more and more meaningful each day as I exit the metro in this posh neighborhood near the Eiffel Tower and notice the people sleeping in makeshift beds of cardboard boxes.

Sharpie-d floor numbers and dead plants

Other days, the romance is nowhere to be found. Every step up the stairs is torture, especially because the wall of the stairs is the wall of the elevator for the fancier apartments right next to the Service area – why can’t they just rip a hole in the wall and let me take the elevator too?! I notice all the dirt, and the shared bathroom is disgusting. I wonder how long it’s been since my carpet was properly vacuumed since I don’t have space for a vacuum cleaner and can only use a rubber broom for cleaning. The 3 minutes of hot water in my shower aren’t enough to even wet all my hair. The sink that shocks me 10% of the times I put my hand under the water (can someone please explain this?!) is not charming, and neither are the walls made of painted-over tape. I can’t decide which is worse, hitting my head on the window opener that hangs right over my pillow if I don’t prop it up right, or the ominous drop of water falling onto my head from that same window during a rainstorm.

View through the skylight

Despite my grievances, I know that it could be worse, and I try to remind myself this fact daily. I grew up in a wonderful house, complete with a hot water heater bigger than a microwave and lots of big, open rooms surrounded by trees. At 18 I went to college and lived in new, cushy dorms and off-campus houses. It was my choice to move to a society with very old buildings, so now it’s time to get comfortable! One of my favorite parts of walking around Paris is looking at all of the old buildings. If I look at them, I should be able to live in them too. My new lifestyle has made me appreciate space, hot water, and high ceilings more than before, and I hope I can eventually move into at least a studio, but really, you can get used to anything.

sometimes I actually get my butt out of bed in time to see pretty sunrises like this