Parislog 42
August 17, 2006

It took me a long time to get this book on fashion design that I wanted. I had seen it on the shelf of a bookstore and decided to see if it was at the library rather than forking over 35 euros. I was in luck. They had it. I went to the library on Tuesday and it was closed even though every sign said that it should be open but one can’t argue with a locked door. I went back on Wednesday and it was open but the book was not on the shelf and after I looked and the librarian looked twice and then searched the computer we gave up and I had to go to another library in another part of town. They don’t let you order a book from one library and pick it up at the one that you regularly use. I miss that system. So after another half hour metro ride, I arrived in the area and walked to the address. I walked in the door with the sign on it and there was no library in sight or obvious directions. It was the lobby of an animation center and after circling for a while I found a sign on an elevator indicating that the library was on the 4th floor. The book was just where it was supposed to be so I had a little moment of success.

I went to the employment center to make an appointment to speak with a counselor but apparently I had to sign up first. The sign up had to be done by phone and that put the fear in me. I still hate the telephone because I just can’t understand as well. This morning I made the phone call and my fears manifested. The lady spoke so quickly and was talking about things of which I had no comprehension. The only thing that I could glean out of the whole thing was that I needed some sort of number in order to sign up for my first appointment. What? I had a little break down and started crying. Then I pulled myself together and took the metro over to my local employment office to see if they would have a clue what she might have been asking me. The lady at the desk was super nice and figured out what it was and helped me to have a clue about what I needed to do but I fell apart again anyway. I guess I just hit a stress max point. It turns out that I need to go to another agency and sign up there to get a number in order to be able to sign up at the employment center. Okay, I believe all the rumors about the medieval paper system in this country. I went to the ASSEDIC (don’t know what it stands for) and got an appointment to get my number. You have to call to make the appointment and in utter trepidation I told the guy at the counter how hard that was for me and he arranged for someone there to do the call for me. How nice was that?

Last night I went to a Canadian Expat meeting through an online group called Meetup, which is all about making social groups all over the world. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. The funny thing was that of the 10-12 people there only two who were actually native Canadians. The others had either lived there for a period or visited. But, nevertheless, it was a lot of fun and I met some new people whom I expect I will meet again at other functions. We sat at a little café on rue St. Martin near the Pompidou. The music wasn’t too loud as happens often in bar type settings so it was easy to talk. I loved that. Some of us may go on a Sunday roller-blade ride that occurs in Paris every week. That's me at the very back in pink.