Parislog 26
June 19, 2006

My future roommate came and stayed with me for 4 days. She just came to visit Paris for a few days. I really enjoyed her visit as she was much more talkative than F* and so I got more practice. We even went to a museum together. It is the Galliera Museum and lucky me it is dedicated to fashion. The current exhibit is all about fashion shows and called “Showtime”. There is one section in which you are the star of the runway. It was absolutely the coolest. It was nothing but a three-sided space painted with the photographers and real flashbulbs popping. There were mirrors placed so that you could see that it was all about you. Did I ever want to strike a pose. It felt like home.

I am stunned that I can’t find a cast iron frying pan here. I have been looking in all the most obvious places with no luck. They have the heavy iron “Le Creuset” but it is enamel coated and I want the raw form to season myself. They must be here somewhere. I can’t believe that they don’t use them. The problem is I don’t have a clue what words to use.

I am sure most of you have heard of the famous auction house Christie’s. Well, I ran across it a while ago and decided to have a go see. I mean I know that I can’t go buying anything as it is just a little outside of my range of spending. But the cool thing is that you can go to the previews and look at some amazing items up close and personal. I even was able to hold the items. They want to make sure that if you are going to spend your money on something that you have every opportunity to know exactly what it is. It was a great time and I guarantee that I am going back. In fact, right after I return from my visit to England, I am going to the jewelry preview. Drool drool. Now if only I can find when they have a wine action here and then I will go to the tasting. There was a fee in LA to do that but was it ever worth it. I got to taste bottles of wine that sold for $300. Whatever will I find here.

Okay, here is a great moving story, she says facetiously. I had just received another box and thus had stuff spread all over the floor again. I was digging through and reached for something in the middle of the pile that was quite a stretch. I placed my other hand down and leaned on it to reach... right on a tack. Ouch. It went all the way in the pad right below my index finger. I yanked it out and put pressure on it. All seemed okay until the middle of the night when I woke up thinking that I had the worst arthritis in my hands. I was asleep people. When I woke up the next morning it became obvious that it was just that finger and it was seriously swollen. It took two days for it to go back to where it was easily bendable although not painless. What fun!

One of the challenges that I have mentioned previously was coming up out of metros and not being able to orient. Well, I decided that the personal GPS program in the head doesn’t work inter-continentally. Actually I think that it has to do with two things. One is getting your head to knowing where the oceans are and remembering but the other has to do with the specific location. Here it is like allows being at the bottom of a canyon because almost all streets have average six story buildings and the streets are seldom wide enough to give you a vista. So what happens is that you can rarely get a visual reference further away than your nose. I am used to being able to orient by seeing a few items at a distance and triangulating. In Paris proper it doesn’t work that way.

The last M-bag arrived at 13 weeks from being put in the mail. I had been given a time frame of 2 months by the post office but they definitely underestimated. At least everything made it. A few things were a little worse for the wear but overall not too bad.

I had gone to the mayor’s office of the 16th arrondisement (that is like a part of Paris. It has 20 and the 16th is the wealthiest). While there picking up brochures and maps and such, I decided to wonder around the building a little. I found myself in a room that was completely empty except for this huge painting mounted on the wall. It had the feel of an impressionist but I could find no plaque giving any information about it. I went back down to the welcome desk and asked the women there if they had any info. Nope. But they got on the phone and made 3 different phone calls to find out for me. The painter is Henri Martin. So there. And the thing of it was, they were really happy to solve the problem for me. Cool things about Paris.

I went on another date and we sat at a little café in the 6th arrondisement (very nice area) and had a little drink. A little basket came to the table for the bar munchies and in it were little pretzels, normal, and marshmallows. What?

In Europe the Coupe de Monde is the major sports event. It goes for a month and a half but only happens once every four years. Every night that there is a match, I can hear it in the apartment. It comes from all directions, the sounds of air horns and yells and groans. If it is France playing that night then don’t plan on anything else happening. The best part of that is that it means that there won’t be any strikes or manifestations that day either. You can’t strike and watch the game. Really. I walked up and down my street last night when the game was on and every single bar or restaurant that had a TV was jam-packed. They were so packed that people were out on the sidewalks watching in all the open walls. The equivalent of a small block from me there are 4 bars on one corner. You can imagine.

Another night I went out to a singles after work get together. It was nice enough but I might have met a couple of women who may or may not become friends. After the event we walked over to one of the women’s apartment and on the way passed a nightclub “Queen” (usually a gay hang out) that they wanted to go in and see. Starting at 11PM it was free for women and so we stood at the front of the door waiting. We were first in line. As soon as it was time the bouncers asked how many in the party and after we said three he pointed us on… not to the door but along the wall. I am looking for some mystery door but they were in fact throwing us out. He said, “Too old!” No!

A* invited me over for a meal and we had a great spread of different cheeses and deli meats. We had some great wine and desserts and an all around great time. I was thrilled to be introduced to what was inside of some of the cheeses and deli meats. I found that I even remembered some of them when I went to the store next. I also am finding that my French is getting to a point where it is a whole lot easier to actually have something resembling a conversation. That is beginning to make my life a little more comfortable. I still need a lot of improvement on being able to hear the language but that will come.

While I was walking a bus came up on the street behind me and I heard this lovely soft bell sound like an old trolley. It was so soft and gentle. I am not sure of its function, as I have now only ridden the bus once.

And speaking of quiet, one of the things to really love about this city is that people, for the most part, are so much quieter in public places than in the USA. On the metro, if people are talking they are talking in very low voices. Occasionally, you will hear people being loud and it is always shocking. It also has some dependence on the section of town. Even on the streets, people are much quieter.

H* set up another lovely picnic in the park on Sunday but unbeknownst to any of us there was some sort of music/dance thing going on and did it ever ruin the ambiance. It was loud rap music with an announcer that was even louder. I guess you can’t win them all. The kids in the park loved it.