Yesterday I completed the Paris half-marathon, running all 13.1 miles (21 km) without stopping to walk.
Yay me!!!
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Monday, March 5, 2012
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Floods and Photography
Last weekend (Saturday Jan 30) I went to two temporary exhibitions in Paris - and they were both well worth the trip out into the cold when my preference is generally to stay inside with a cup of tea, a good book and a jigsaw puzzle.
These were two things I really wanted to see. For coworker/friend Paul and his wife, my friend, Sybil, these were things they wanted to see, too, but also they’ve been to all the ‘A-list’ museums in Paris, and B-list...they think they’re down to E-list now.
Anyway.
First was Izis : Paris des Rêves. The website is very good, albeit with a lot of flash, as it includes a sampling of the photos.
Israëlis Bidermanas (1911–1980) was Lithuanian, but spent most of his life in Paris. He is known for his more ‘humanist’ photographs, as well as those of circuses and of resistance fighters. ‘Paris of Dreams’ is the title of his first book. In 1950 he joined the staff of Paris Match, and worked for that magazine for 20 years. He also was chosen by Chagall to photograph Chagall’s work / creation of the ceiling of the Paris Opera.
What I liked about this exhibition ...
Izis did a series of photos in London at the time of QEII’s coronation. The difference between the London scenes and Paris scenes is evident, but I cannot find the words to describe it - I just know that the two cities looked/felt different - does that make sense?
The photos were just simple, yet artistic, and showed everyday life - often with either a humorous or sad undertone. He captured expressions, body language, and landscape. I’m not sure if the photos were more powerful because they were all black and white?
He also photographed men fishing along the Seine ; one line from the audio guide said that ‘a fishing rod is like a do not disturb sign.’ I’d never thought of it that way before, but it is so accurate.
At the Hôtel de Ville
From 20 Jan to 29 May 2010
Every day, 10h - 19h, except Sundays and holidays
Admission free ; 5 € for audio guide (and it is a good one)
After lunch we ventured over to the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris for : Paris Inonde 1910.
Wow.
In January 1910, Paris had a huge flood. The website is very good and the ‘carte interactive’ is great. I cannot remember specifically, but it was a result of melting snow, more snow and rain ; plus there were not the dams and water control in place that there is now. The high water lasted from end Jan to beginning March, with the extreme height from 21-28 Jan ; and then clean-up commenced.
The water came to the base of most all the bridges, and spilled into the city. I just cannot imagine what it was like : January, cold, dark. No heat, no lights, no running water.
Galerie des bibliothèques - Ville de Paris
22, rue Malher, 75004
Tues- Sun, 13h to 19h ; Thursdays until 21h
4€ entry
Sunday, August 30, 2009
I've been in the wrong pew this whole time.
I went to church at the American Church in Paris this morning. I went to the 9 a.m. service instead of the 11 a.m. since I was going to brunch at Marissa's and then to the Musee d'Orsay. I discovered the 9 a.m. service to be soooo much better than the 11 a.m. - less people, no fussy children, no fidgeting people, no latecomers shoving into pews, etc.
It was communion Sunday so we all got up to walk up front and take it. As I was walking, I was looking at the small plaques on the end of each pew which indicate who it is in honor/memory of. And when I saw this one, at the same time I got a huge grin on my face and a pang of sadness in my heart. Imagine, a bit of Old South here in Paris with me! I've been going to church there for a year and never saw this! I've been sitting in a pew 'donated' by a church in Newton, Mass., for something 'close by'. Now, I guess I have to change seats - but this one is much closer to the front than I'd prefer. (which, as the saying goes - why do people fight for front row seats to a concert, but fight for the back in church?).
Friday, March 27, 2009
Meeting the French ER Response Unit
Ok, bet I’m one of the few to whom this has happened ….
Let me start off with a lead-in story….
I completely respect if one is focused on work in the office as that is why we’re all here. And I understand that people don’t listen to what others are saying if their minds are racing and they’re thinking of the next work project ; but generally some switch in the brain will flip a bit later and then the people think, “did she really say that?”
A colleague walked into my office area Thursday morning and I opened the conversation with “I’ve discovered that all the good looking men in Paris are young firefighters and police officers ; I should know as there were about 6-10 in my apartment last night.” To which my colleague says : “What I need you to do is create a report showing…” Didn’t blink an eye, didn’t comment, nothing. Not even 5, 10, 30 minutes later. Seriously?
So you’re probably wondering – Why in the world were 6-10 French fire and policemen in my apartment. Good question. Here’s the story…
By the time I got home and got to bed Wednesday night it was about 22:00. I read for a bit and turned off my light about 22:30. About 23:00 I wake up to hear a banging sound, then it got louder. Pause. Louder again. I realized it was from my door. So I get up and stumble to the front door. Of course, I’m half asleep and foggy due to this cold I have so I neglect all the safety rules of looking through the peep hole, asking who it is, etc. and I just open the door.
Lo and behold there are about 6 young men (20s?) in the hallway. They all seem to be in dark clothes, one guy was in jeans and a leather jacket. I thought they were just being rude and knocking on all doors, being “hooligans.” They start asking me questions (in French of course) whether or not my balcony was attached to the flat next door, and if I knew who lived there, and other such things. I said, no it wasn’t connected. They asked if they could see. I again said no, it wasn’t connected. Then I noticed “Sapeurs Pompiers” on one man’s sleeve – firefighters. (Cultural note : in Paris I’ve been told that you call the firefighters first, and then they decide who to send / what type of emergency it is.) Then I see a woman, probably in her 60s, in the hallway. My brain wakes up and I realize it must be an emergency so I let 3 of the guys in and they go to the dining room (right adjacent to my front door) to check the balcony.
Then it gets interesting. The 3 of them come back to the hallway and get harnesses and helmets. They get geared up and somehow rappel over to the other balcony. I’m still having minor conversations with the other men (in French). And thankfully the woman spoke intermediate / good English.
She asked if I heard the alarm in the apartment (smoke detectors?) and I said no. She said she lives above this flat (semi-elderly couple lives there) and she and her husband heard the noises, then somehow the young man (the one in jeans and leather jacket) was in hallway or something and the two of them called the firefighters. She said the woman in the flat is sick and is/was in a wheelchair. I said I had never met her, but had met the man, and actually saw him Saturday morning.
It might’ve been around this time that the police came – enter 4 more people into the hallway / my apartment. Did I mention it’s about midnight and I’m still in my PJs, trying to follow everything in French?
Also arriving at this point is the Guardian of the building next door. (Cultural note : Guardians would be what an American calls a Concierge, but that word isn’t really appropriate here. The person lives in the building and does basic repair, maintenance, etc. and usually people give the Guardian a set of keys if they are expecting deliveries, need things done, etc.)
Two of the policemen then ask me questions – do I live there? Alone? For how long? When did I last see the people in the flat? Was it the sick woman? My identification? These two guys were hilarious, like a comedy routine, and good looking. It was becoming like Who’s On First regarding whether or not I had seen the woman. I said I had seen A woman in the doorway, but I didn’t know if it was the wife of the woman / the tenant because I hadn’t formally met her. I just don’t know how to say in French “I didn’t want to stare”. And, it seems that when the police are writing down all your contact information for whatever report, they also want to know what city you were born in. Try spelling Cincinnati in French and getting the guy to understand it and make it fit in his little notebook. I would spell it (in French), the other guy would repeat, and still the one writing it down was making mistakes! Really, it was comical.
Remember, I’m still in my PJs, conversing in French.
Eventually they get into the flat, using the keys the Guardian brought. Turns out, no one is home. So all that excitement and adrenaline rush for nothing, which I suppose is a good thing! All I kept thinking was that if someone had been hurt inside, the hour spent banging on the door, waiting for the Guardian, and all that would not have been beneficial.
Things I learned :
--Always keep a sweatshirt or robe or something by your bed in case you have to get up and answer the door in the middle of the night.
--Get smoke detectors, you’ll feel safer (note : I think my company is getting safety kits for those of us who moved over here – smoke detectors, fire extinguisher, fire ladder, etc.)
--This was actually a pleasant experience in that none of these people made snide remarks or glances about me being American, or living there alone. My French language skills seemed to suffice. None of them made comments about the size of my flat being so large for one person. (Cultural note : seems to be the norm here to ask a person how many square meters one’s flat is. And in my case, 99% of the time it is followed by some snide remark of it being so large, or wondering where my family is, etc.)
Let me start off with a lead-in story….
I completely respect if one is focused on work in the office as that is why we’re all here. And I understand that people don’t listen to what others are saying if their minds are racing and they’re thinking of the next work project ; but generally some switch in the brain will flip a bit later and then the people think, “did she really say that?”
A colleague walked into my office area Thursday morning and I opened the conversation with “I’ve discovered that all the good looking men in Paris are young firefighters and police officers ; I should know as there were about 6-10 in my apartment last night.” To which my colleague says : “What I need you to do is create a report showing…” Didn’t blink an eye, didn’t comment, nothing. Not even 5, 10, 30 minutes later. Seriously?
So you’re probably wondering – Why in the world were 6-10 French fire and policemen in my apartment. Good question. Here’s the story…
By the time I got home and got to bed Wednesday night it was about 22:00. I read for a bit and turned off my light about 22:30. About 23:00 I wake up to hear a banging sound, then it got louder. Pause. Louder again. I realized it was from my door. So I get up and stumble to the front door. Of course, I’m half asleep and foggy due to this cold I have so I neglect all the safety rules of looking through the peep hole, asking who it is, etc. and I just open the door.
Lo and behold there are about 6 young men (20s?) in the hallway. They all seem to be in dark clothes, one guy was in jeans and a leather jacket. I thought they were just being rude and knocking on all doors, being “hooligans.” They start asking me questions (in French of course) whether or not my balcony was attached to the flat next door, and if I knew who lived there, and other such things. I said, no it wasn’t connected. They asked if they could see. I again said no, it wasn’t connected. Then I noticed “Sapeurs Pompiers” on one man’s sleeve – firefighters. (Cultural note : in Paris I’ve been told that you call the firefighters first, and then they decide who to send / what type of emergency it is.) Then I see a woman, probably in her 60s, in the hallway. My brain wakes up and I realize it must be an emergency so I let 3 of the guys in and they go to the dining room (right adjacent to my front door) to check the balcony.
Then it gets interesting. The 3 of them come back to the hallway and get harnesses and helmets. They get geared up and somehow rappel over to the other balcony. I’m still having minor conversations with the other men (in French). And thankfully the woman spoke intermediate / good English.
She asked if I heard the alarm in the apartment (smoke detectors?) and I said no. She said she lives above this flat (semi-elderly couple lives there) and she and her husband heard the noises, then somehow the young man (the one in jeans and leather jacket) was in hallway or something and the two of them called the firefighters. She said the woman in the flat is sick and is/was in a wheelchair. I said I had never met her, but had met the man, and actually saw him Saturday morning.
It might’ve been around this time that the police came – enter 4 more people into the hallway / my apartment. Did I mention it’s about midnight and I’m still in my PJs, trying to follow everything in French?
Also arriving at this point is the Guardian of the building next door. (Cultural note : Guardians would be what an American calls a Concierge, but that word isn’t really appropriate here. The person lives in the building and does basic repair, maintenance, etc. and usually people give the Guardian a set of keys if they are expecting deliveries, need things done, etc.)
Two of the policemen then ask me questions – do I live there? Alone? For how long? When did I last see the people in the flat? Was it the sick woman? My identification? These two guys were hilarious, like a comedy routine, and good looking. It was becoming like Who’s On First regarding whether or not I had seen the woman. I said I had seen A woman in the doorway, but I didn’t know if it was the wife of the woman / the tenant because I hadn’t formally met her. I just don’t know how to say in French “I didn’t want to stare”. And, it seems that when the police are writing down all your contact information for whatever report, they also want to know what city you were born in. Try spelling Cincinnati in French and getting the guy to understand it and make it fit in his little notebook. I would spell it (in French), the other guy would repeat, and still the one writing it down was making mistakes! Really, it was comical.
Remember, I’m still in my PJs, conversing in French.
Eventually they get into the flat, using the keys the Guardian brought. Turns out, no one is home. So all that excitement and adrenaline rush for nothing, which I suppose is a good thing! All I kept thinking was that if someone had been hurt inside, the hour spent banging on the door, waiting for the Guardian, and all that would not have been beneficial.
Things I learned :
--Always keep a sweatshirt or robe or something by your bed in case you have to get up and answer the door in the middle of the night.
--Get smoke detectors, you’ll feel safer (note : I think my company is getting safety kits for those of us who moved over here – smoke detectors, fire extinguisher, fire ladder, etc.)
--This was actually a pleasant experience in that none of these people made snide remarks or glances about me being American, or living there alone. My French language skills seemed to suffice. None of them made comments about the size of my flat being so large for one person. (Cultural note : seems to be the norm here to ask a person how many square meters one’s flat is. And in my case, 99% of the time it is followed by some snide remark of it being so large, or wondering where my family is, etc.)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Smells
Paris might be called the "City of Lights" (which, in this economic time and environmentally-conscience time, wouldn't it be better to turn off the lights?), but it is also the city of smells.
Sure, there is the smell of fresh bread baking at every boulangerie each morning, the sweet smells from the patisseries, smelling wine at tastings, and soon the trees and flowers in bloom.
However, just to warn you, it is also smells of exhaust, urine, feces, cigarette smoke, and other such unpleasantness. Yes, I have seen several men urinating in the street (in the bushes, against the sides of buildings, on a car's tire...), and some of my colleagues have seen the same. There is dog sh!t everywhere. I couldn't tell you what a lot of the buildings look like because I'm always looking DOWN to watch where I walk. And I swear, some of these piles on the sidewalks cannot possibly come from the accessory-sized dogs that seem to plague this city.
I figure a few years are being taken off the end of my life just by living here and breathing all of this. And, I'll probably develop some ghastly combination of allergies and asthma. Vive la France.
Sure, there is the smell of fresh bread baking at every boulangerie each morning, the sweet smells from the patisseries, smelling wine at tastings, and soon the trees and flowers in bloom.
However, just to warn you, it is also smells of exhaust, urine, feces, cigarette smoke, and other such unpleasantness. Yes, I have seen several men urinating in the street (in the bushes, against the sides of buildings, on a car's tire...), and some of my colleagues have seen the same. There is dog sh!t everywhere. I couldn't tell you what a lot of the buildings look like because I'm always looking DOWN to watch where I walk. And I swear, some of these piles on the sidewalks cannot possibly come from the accessory-sized dogs that seem to plague this city.
I figure a few years are being taken off the end of my life just by living here and breathing all of this. And, I'll probably develop some ghastly combination of allergies and asthma. Vive la France.
Commuting
So now that I'm moved into my new apartment, I'm trying to figure out the fastest and most pleasant way to get to/from work. This week, I have been trying the RER instead of the Metro (the RER is more like the Commuter Rail in Boston, but it also goes through the city). It takes me 45 minutes from turning off the lights in my flat to turning on my computer ; the train is QUIET and not crowded and there are seats for everyone ; but, they don't announce the stops, so if you're engrossed in your book, music or podcasts, you best pay attention!
On the RER, I take the C line, which goes one direction northbound but about 6 southbound (see map here.) What I find fascinating is how the directions are marked. Logic would assume that they would be marked "Pontoise" or "Dourdan" or "Versailles", or at least PONT, DOUR, and VERS for abbreviations. Logic however has yet to come to Paris ; either that or they've thrown caution to the wind and are ignoring every French philosopher.
Pontoise (which I take to get to work) is marked by NORA. I think I can also take GATA, GOTA or GUTA (if I read the website / signboards correclty), but those three trains never seem to run.
To get home, I can take : ELBA, MONA, ROMI, CIME, DEBA, JILL, BALI, DUFY, ELAO, FOOT or JOEL. These names mean nothing - for instance, ROMI goes to Porte de Rungis, CIME goes to Versailles Ch., ELBA to St. Martin and DEBA to Dourdan.
I have a feeling one day I'll be like "Charlie on the MTA" and will end up somewhere I shouldn't, outside the Zone for which my ticket is purchased, and will just keep riding around until I get on the correct train.
Seriously though. How difficult would it be to come up with more appropriate code names?
On the RER, I take the C line, which goes one direction northbound but about 6 southbound (see map here.) What I find fascinating is how the directions are marked. Logic would assume that they would be marked "Pontoise" or "Dourdan" or "Versailles", or at least PONT, DOUR, and VERS for abbreviations. Logic however has yet to come to Paris ; either that or they've thrown caution to the wind and are ignoring every French philosopher.
Pontoise (which I take to get to work) is marked by NORA. I think I can also take GATA, GOTA or GUTA (if I read the website / signboards correclty), but those three trains never seem to run.
To get home, I can take : ELBA, MONA, ROMI, CIME, DEBA, JILL, BALI, DUFY, ELAO, FOOT or JOEL. These names mean nothing - for instance, ROMI goes to Porte de Rungis, CIME goes to Versailles Ch., ELBA to St. Martin and DEBA to Dourdan.
I have a feeling one day I'll be like "Charlie on the MTA" and will end up somewhere I shouldn't, outside the Zone for which my ticket is purchased, and will just keep riding around until I get on the correct train.
Seriously though. How difficult would it be to come up with more appropriate code names?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
"Snow Day"
Today is what I'm calling my first official French "snow day". But there's no snow (just the same drab, grey skies). Instead, there are strikes (protests) all over France today, which means public transportation is affected. What I find fascinating is that these protests, and potential disruptions, were announced a week in advance, and everyone is ok with it. You just plan ahead for getting to work (book a taxi, work from home, walk, etc.) I'm calling it my "snow day" because it's like when I first moved to Boston - the first big snow, I stayed home - partly because I had never really driven in that much snow before and partly because I just wanted to experience it, watching the news, walking outside, etc. The next big snow, I was ready to go to work and comiserate about my commute with my coworkers (the other aspect of a 'snow day' - the 'survivor' mentality in the office environment, everyone patting themselves on their backs for braving it out and making it in). So, my first French strike - I'm staying home. The next one, maybe I'll walk to work.
You can read about it in English on the BBC or Intl Herald Tribune. (Although their coverage is buried on their websites and minmal.)
If you are adventurous, or want to see more news, or see photos, you can read in French on Le Monde and Le Figaro. For more leftist, go to La Liberation.
What have I learned from this strike, and it's only 8 a.m.? (1) Always have travel insurance (Air France flights are cancelled) ; (2) working from home is much more pleasant and productive for me these days ; (3) I know just enough French to be dangerous (in trying to understand the news on the radio) ; and, (4) This entire strike thing (manifestation) is just so beyond my comprehension. I think "strike" is the wrong translation - it's more like a protest. But, a protest in which many unions take part. I mean, imagine if people in the States went on strike for a day to protest that the government do more to protect their wages and jobs? The rest of the country would likely call them greedy and look upon them unfavorably. Here, it's just another day.
You can read about it in English on the BBC or Intl Herald Tribune. (Although their coverage is buried on their websites and minmal.)
If you are adventurous, or want to see more news, or see photos, you can read in French on Le Monde and Le Figaro. For more leftist, go to La Liberation.
What have I learned from this strike, and it's only 8 a.m.? (1) Always have travel insurance (Air France flights are cancelled) ; (2) working from home is much more pleasant and productive for me these days ; (3) I know just enough French to be dangerous (in trying to understand the news on the radio) ; and, (4) This entire strike thing (manifestation) is just so beyond my comprehension. I think "strike" is the wrong translation - it's more like a protest. But, a protest in which many unions take part. I mean, imagine if people in the States went on strike for a day to protest that the government do more to protect their wages and jobs? The rest of the country would likely call them greedy and look upon them unfavorably. Here, it's just another day.
French Megativity
You know me, glass-is-half-full, so it’s time for some “megativity”. Where to begin….I’ll just do this in random fashion…
--I am sick of eating in the “canteen” for lunch (aka cafeteria). It reminds me of high school all over again. Remember : when it was nearly impossible to find a table to sit with your friends, or if you didn’t get to the table with them, there was never room for you (which, btw, just prompted me to then eat lunch nearly every day in the student newspaper office by myself)? Remember : the choices of food, while mildly palatable, lost their allure after one week? Remember : you could predict the menu choices for the rest of the week on Monday because (a) the menu was always the same every day of the week (i.e. chicken Tuesday, fish Wednesday…) or (b) you knew the meat on Monday would merge with the pasta on Tuesday to become some combined dish on Wednesday…
--My heel caught on the hem of my pants Monday (the hem is like a cuff, on the outside) and ripped – not bad, only ripped on the seam. But, now I have to try to find a seamstress or tailor or whatever they have here to get it fixed. And since nothing is open by the time I get home (7 p.m.) and there is NOTHING by the office, this means it has to wait until a Saturday when I’m sure the rest of the world is waiting in line.
--I got my Paris office BlackBerry, so now I have two of them, and until I’ve merged everything to my French computer/email, I get to carry both of them around – my guess is that I won’t be fully merged and converted for about 6 months. The added bonus? The French BlackBerry is an azerty keyboard, not a qwerty one.
--Why is it in hotels, or now in my temporary housing, when the cleaning person comes in, does this person find it necessary to move, thus touch, my toothbrush. Gross. And if I move the trashcan from one location to another every day, why do you move it back? And if I always leave the same light on, why do you turn it off and turn another on? I obviously have things set up how I like them, so don’t move them!
--And speaking of hotels, does anyone else also check to see if the Gideons have placed a Bible in the bedside drawer? I’m beginning to think I should donate money to them because I’d say 85% of the time I take it out and read it. I have noticed however that the French boutique hotels have not been visited by the Gideons.
--Also in hotels, why are the light switches always so screwy? I mean, is it the main switch by the door you have to flip for everything else to work ; or in some fun cases, you have to insert your door key card in this switch and then everything works. Or the switch in the entryway turns on two lamps, but then if you want to turn one of them off good luck. And using the switches by the bedside is inevitably its own version of “who’s on first” when you’re trying to get the lights off, or just one on.
--Lastly, what do you know about Paris in winter? Nothing, I’m guessing. No wonder people don’t talk about it, and no wonder why Paris comes “alive” in the spring with people outside, at cafes, at parks, etc. It’s because winter is depressingly grey, drab, cold and windy, and overall annoying. It is just not pretty here now.
Ok, a lot of complaints, I know. So I take the advice of a colleague (friend) who is also glass-is-half-full-feeling right now, and ask myself “What do I have the power to change?”. That will take a few days to contemplate.
--I am sick of eating in the “canteen” for lunch (aka cafeteria). It reminds me of high school all over again. Remember : when it was nearly impossible to find a table to sit with your friends, or if you didn’t get to the table with them, there was never room for you (which, btw, just prompted me to then eat lunch nearly every day in the student newspaper office by myself)? Remember : the choices of food, while mildly palatable, lost their allure after one week? Remember : you could predict the menu choices for the rest of the week on Monday because (a) the menu was always the same every day of the week (i.e. chicken Tuesday, fish Wednesday…) or (b) you knew the meat on Monday would merge with the pasta on Tuesday to become some combined dish on Wednesday…
--My heel caught on the hem of my pants Monday (the hem is like a cuff, on the outside) and ripped – not bad, only ripped on the seam. But, now I have to try to find a seamstress or tailor or whatever they have here to get it fixed. And since nothing is open by the time I get home (7 p.m.) and there is NOTHING by the office, this means it has to wait until a Saturday when I’m sure the rest of the world is waiting in line.
--I got my Paris office BlackBerry, so now I have two of them, and until I’ve merged everything to my French computer/email, I get to carry both of them around – my guess is that I won’t be fully merged and converted for about 6 months. The added bonus? The French BlackBerry is an azerty keyboard, not a qwerty one.
--Why is it in hotels, or now in my temporary housing, when the cleaning person comes in, does this person find it necessary to move, thus touch, my toothbrush. Gross. And if I move the trashcan from one location to another every day, why do you move it back? And if I always leave the same light on, why do you turn it off and turn another on? I obviously have things set up how I like them, so don’t move them!
--And speaking of hotels, does anyone else also check to see if the Gideons have placed a Bible in the bedside drawer? I’m beginning to think I should donate money to them because I’d say 85% of the time I take it out and read it. I have noticed however that the French boutique hotels have not been visited by the Gideons.
--Also in hotels, why are the light switches always so screwy? I mean, is it the main switch by the door you have to flip for everything else to work ; or in some fun cases, you have to insert your door key card in this switch and then everything works. Or the switch in the entryway turns on two lamps, but then if you want to turn one of them off good luck. And using the switches by the bedside is inevitably its own version of “who’s on first” when you’re trying to get the lights off, or just one on.
--Lastly, what do you know about Paris in winter? Nothing, I’m guessing. No wonder people don’t talk about it, and no wonder why Paris comes “alive” in the spring with people outside, at cafes, at parks, etc. It’s because winter is depressingly grey, drab, cold and windy, and overall annoying. It is just not pretty here now.
Ok, a lot of complaints, I know. So I take the advice of a colleague (friend) who is also glass-is-half-full-feeling right now, and ask myself “What do I have the power to change?”. That will take a few days to contemplate.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Frustrated (part 2)
I should have added to my previous post that while holding a dictionary in one hand and the food packaging in the other to translate, where does one put one's glass of wine?
I don't know how the French cook their food, seriously. In the 7 flats I saw last week, they either had ovens 1/2 the size of a US one or a microwave that somehow also can double as an oven. How do they do roasts and stuff?
And another thing, I haven't really seen "French cuisine" at a lot of places unless you count chicken-and-french fries ; croque monsieurs ; or just random duck things. Just go to Pierrot Bistro or Petite Robert in Boston and you've seen the extent of French cuisine.
On a semi-related food note...I had meetings scheduled for 11:00 and 13:00 today, giving me an hour for lunch. But, in what I've disocovered is typical here, the 11:00 started at 11:30, thus giving me only 20 minutes for lunch. As the 13:00 meeting included my boss (American), I knew we would at least start on time. So I skipped lunch and just a little madeleine cake (smaller than my palm). Of course, the meeting didn't start until 13:20...gggrrrrrr.......... the completely amazing part (to me at least) was that I still don't have a hunger headache, grumbling stomach, or the overall "mean Megan mood" I usually have after skipping a meal. And it's 20:11 right now! Bizarre.
I don't know how the French cook their food, seriously. In the 7 flats I saw last week, they either had ovens 1/2 the size of a US one or a microwave that somehow also can double as an oven. How do they do roasts and stuff?
And another thing, I haven't really seen "French cuisine" at a lot of places unless you count chicken-and-french fries ; croque monsieurs ; or just random duck things. Just go to Pierrot Bistro or Petite Robert in Boston and you've seen the extent of French cuisine.
On a semi-related food note...I had meetings scheduled for 11:00 and 13:00 today, giving me an hour for lunch. But, in what I've disocovered is typical here, the 11:00 started at 11:30, thus giving me only 20 minutes for lunch. As the 13:00 meeting included my boss (American), I knew we would at least start on time. So I skipped lunch and just a little madeleine cake (smaller than my palm). Of course, the meeting didn't start until 13:20...gggrrrrrr.......... the completely amazing part (to me at least) was that I still don't have a hunger headache, grumbling stomach, or the overall "mean Megan mood" I usually have after skipping a meal. And it's 20:11 right now! Bizarre.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Flat hunting in Paris
Well, today I spent about 8 hours looking at 7 different apartments and setting up a bank account and I really have nothing to show for it.
The bank account is being processed, but I won't have the card or anything until next week; and besides, I don't have any money in the account so it doesn't help me out much now. I just have to figure out how to transfer money from London to Paris without being in London and without having set up any transfer papers with my London bank. Ugh. And of course, the US Government knows everything about me and it was required to sign a W9 form or something so the bank in Paris must report this account of mine to the IRS. Joys.
As for the flats...the first 2 were ok, but both have +/-. I'm not crazy about either of them. Sure, I could choose one of them if I had to, but I think I might exercise my right to go out a 2nd day and look at more flats. I really hate doing that though because I don't like being troublesome or picky or come across as another 'ugly American' expat/tourist.
But, I think I just need to deal with it, too. I don't think I'm going to like apartment in Paris in general for several reasons. (1) the kitchens are all separate rooms, very removed from the rest of the flat - what is it? some holdover from when people had servants or when the woman was in the kitchen and that was it? (2) closets - why are they all in the hallways and why are they all ginormously tall? I will need to have about 8 step stools in whatever flat I choose! (3) Paris is just compact so everything is near some busy place and lots of people, which I really don't like.
It was difficult to get a good feel for anything today really since almost all of them were being renovated and completely redone - so there were dropcloths, torn out bathrooms, etc. It was hard to tell what would be put in and what would be left out (i.e. some included a dishwasher, but no fridge).
Anyway, it's late. I should sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow.
The bank account is being processed, but I won't have the card or anything until next week; and besides, I don't have any money in the account so it doesn't help me out much now. I just have to figure out how to transfer money from London to Paris without being in London and without having set up any transfer papers with my London bank. Ugh. And of course, the US Government knows everything about me and it was required to sign a W9 form or something so the bank in Paris must report this account of mine to the IRS. Joys.
As for the flats...the first 2 were ok, but both have +/-. I'm not crazy about either of them. Sure, I could choose one of them if I had to, but I think I might exercise my right to go out a 2nd day and look at more flats. I really hate doing that though because I don't like being troublesome or picky or come across as another 'ugly American' expat/tourist.
But, I think I just need to deal with it, too. I don't think I'm going to like apartment in Paris in general for several reasons. (1) the kitchens are all separate rooms, very removed from the rest of the flat - what is it? some holdover from when people had servants or when the woman was in the kitchen and that was it? (2) closets - why are they all in the hallways and why are they all ginormously tall? I will need to have about 8 step stools in whatever flat I choose! (3) Paris is just compact so everything is near some busy place and lots of people, which I really don't like.
It was difficult to get a good feel for anything today really since almost all of them were being renovated and completely redone - so there were dropcloths, torn out bathrooms, etc. It was hard to tell what would be put in and what would be left out (i.e. some included a dishwasher, but no fridge).
Anyway, it's late. I should sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Paris police find dynamite at store
Yes, I have seen this news item.
No, I have never shopped there ; but, yes, I know where it is.
Am I concerned? Not really. I mean, I'm as safe in Paris as I am in London as in Boston as in ...
No, I have never shopped there ; but, yes, I know where it is.
Am I concerned? Not really. I mean, I'm as safe in Paris as I am in London as in Boston as in ...
Friday, October 24, 2008
Paris
Here are some photos from my trip to Paris for work a week ago. I went the first weekend for the 'Bloom While You Work' seminar at the American Church in Paris on 'working in France' and dealing with the French culture, visas, customs, etc. Very good. I stayed the second weekend because the bell choir was playing at ACP that Sunday, and for a concert for Habitat for Humanity Saturday night. As I am now part of the bell choir there, it was best I stayed!
This time, I only got 5 bug bites (one on my back right where my bra strap is - NOT comfortable; one on the back of my left shoulder and one on the front; one at the end of my right eyebrow; and, one literally on my left eyelid, right at the base where the lashes are, closer to my nose than the outside edge - NOT comfortable!)
ACP - set up for bells (obviously).
Went to Monmartre with Amy the first Sunday and walked around - way too crowded for my taste! The guy in the blue shirt in the middle of the steps was playing the song "Hallelujah" (on the Shrek soundtrack) and everyone was singing along. Very cool. I love that song!
This time, I only got 5 bug bites (one on my back right where my bra strap is - NOT comfortable; one on the back of my left shoulder and one on the front; one at the end of my right eyebrow; and, one literally on my left eyelid, right at the base where the lashes are, closer to my nose than the outside edge - NOT comfortable!)
ACP - set up for bells (obviously).
Went to Monmartre with Amy the first Sunday and walked around - way too crowded for my taste! The guy in the blue shirt in the middle of the steps was playing the song "Hallelujah" (on the Shrek soundtrack) and everyone was singing along. Very cool. I love that song!
The ACP is just on the other side of the bridge. The steeple is that little speck to the right of the Eiffel.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Life in Paris
Ok, on this trip to Paris I am being hit by major culture shock. There are several contributing factors:
1) I just didn’t want to be in Paris this week. Sure, I scheduled the trip, but there were meetings beyond my control that I needed to attend (such as my former boss from North America being in town). And, it’s Gwen, Marissa & Julia’s last week in the London office, so I’m missing that. Plus, I’m here for the entire week (Mon morning train & Friday late afternoon return).
But, it was good for me to be here all week because
(a) I got 2 days here myself w/ only one other person from the London office here;
(b) Some of the people I had to meet won’t be available the later part of this week; and,
(c) Gives my week some continuity
2) The Metro line that goes to our office is like the B line in Boston – the destination is Saint Denis University so it is overly crowded and mostly not with business professionals, but rather sardine-packed with students and crazys.
3) I got my new “GDF” laptop (I put that in quotations because even though we are now GDF SUEZ, we all still talk in terms of GDF things and SUEZ things). And, we are in a former GDF building and have to deal with GDF IT rules.
My laptop complaints:
a. It is a much larger (i.e. heavier) HP laptop and will have to give up my trendy little Vaio upon my move in January.
b. All the software is in French. Sure, you think you know MS Office and all of its menu commands well, but trust me, you don’t.
c. It uses Lotus Notes email, with which I am familiar, and like more than Outlook, but again, it’s all in French
d. And, I have my new email address, but it is only viewable on this new laptop and they do NOT have webmail and they do NOT allow forwarding to another account. So if someone emails me at that account, I will only see it when I am in the Paris office
e. Most frustrating of all is it has a French keyboard aka “azert” instead of “qwert”. Try typing my name with this layout. It took me sooo long yesterday to do any work whatsoever.
f. It uses Windows 2000. Don’t laugh. Yes, it really does look antiquated. Supposedly next year we’ll be upgraded to Vista (is that really an upgrade?) and switch from Lotus to Outlook.
g. I don’t have access to the LNG Department folder in “My Computer” – you would think that would be a given, wouldn’t you?
4) There is actually office space set up for us in the Portfolio Management team (5 of us) but we are at the complete other end of the hall, in the hinter lands. How we’re supposed to interact with the Operations and Shipping teams is beyond me. What, are we just expected to wander down there and ‘hang out’? From my experience in North America, proximity is key because if these teams haven’t had Portfolio input before, they’re not going to remember to stop and walk down the hall to ask us. Makes the job that much more challenging, and not in a fun way.
a. But, for someone who does like quiet, this location is good. However, for an introvert like me, it’s not that useful for job effectiveness
b. At least now I have a desk where I can leave stuff instead of lugging some of my things back and forth
5) Tea. I like to have a cuppa tea on my desk to sip on for a few hours. However, there is NO kitchen space in the Paris office. You cannot even bring in a kettle to plug in as brining in outside things to plug in is NOT allowed in big, giant, corporation land. Anyway, there is a little “coffee machine” out of which you get a really small cup of coffee / cappuccino / tea / hot chocolate / etc. All for 0.05 euros. It’s addictive – so cheap and the thrill is gone before you’ve started. The disgusting part, though, is the tea. You select the option without sugar yet what you get tastes like heated up Lipton tea from a can. When you’re finished, you can see the sugarwater at the bottom of the cup. Gross.
You may be thinking – what is her problem? Really, a laptop, a keyboard, a cup of tea…get a grip, right? Well, it’s these little things that add up to culture shock for me. Sure, I expect people to speak French, to not understand menus, to have to study maps, etc. but things like this that catch me off guard really put me off kilter! True, on my next trip here, I’ll be expecting them, but it’s still an adjustment. Really, this keyboard thing is troublesome!
1) I just didn’t want to be in Paris this week. Sure, I scheduled the trip, but there were meetings beyond my control that I needed to attend (such as my former boss from North America being in town). And, it’s Gwen, Marissa & Julia’s last week in the London office, so I’m missing that. Plus, I’m here for the entire week (Mon morning train & Friday late afternoon return).
But, it was good for me to be here all week because
(a) I got 2 days here myself w/ only one other person from the London office here;
(b) Some of the people I had to meet won’t be available the later part of this week; and,
(c) Gives my week some continuity
2) The Metro line that goes to our office is like the B line in Boston – the destination is Saint Denis University so it is overly crowded and mostly not with business professionals, but rather sardine-packed with students and crazys.
3) I got my new “GDF” laptop (I put that in quotations because even though we are now GDF SUEZ, we all still talk in terms of GDF things and SUEZ things). And, we are in a former GDF building and have to deal with GDF IT rules.
My laptop complaints:
a. It is a much larger (i.e. heavier) HP laptop and will have to give up my trendy little Vaio upon my move in January.
b. All the software is in French. Sure, you think you know MS Office and all of its menu commands well, but trust me, you don’t.
c. It uses Lotus Notes email, with which I am familiar, and like more than Outlook, but again, it’s all in French
d. And, I have my new email address, but it is only viewable on this new laptop and they do NOT have webmail and they do NOT allow forwarding to another account. So if someone emails me at that account, I will only see it when I am in the Paris office
e. Most frustrating of all is it has a French keyboard aka “azert” instead of “qwert”. Try typing my name with this layout. It took me sooo long yesterday to do any work whatsoever.
f. It uses Windows 2000. Don’t laugh. Yes, it really does look antiquated. Supposedly next year we’ll be upgraded to Vista (is that really an upgrade?) and switch from Lotus to Outlook.
g. I don’t have access to the LNG Department folder in “My Computer” – you would think that would be a given, wouldn’t you?
4) There is actually office space set up for us in the Portfolio Management team (5 of us) but we are at the complete other end of the hall, in the hinter lands. How we’re supposed to interact with the Operations and Shipping teams is beyond me. What, are we just expected to wander down there and ‘hang out’? From my experience in North America, proximity is key because if these teams haven’t had Portfolio input before, they’re not going to remember to stop and walk down the hall to ask us. Makes the job that much more challenging, and not in a fun way.a. But, for someone who does like quiet, this location is good. However, for an introvert like me, it’s not that useful for job effectiveness
b. At least now I have a desk where I can leave stuff instead of lugging some of my things back and forth
5) Tea. I like to have a cuppa tea on my desk to sip on for a few hours. However, there is NO kitchen space in the Paris office. You cannot even bring in a kettle to plug in as brining in outside things to plug in is NOT allowed in big, giant, corporation land. Anyway, there is a little “coffee machine” out of which you get a really small cup of coffee / cappuccino / tea / hot chocolate / etc. All for 0.05 euros. It’s addictive – so cheap and the thrill is gone before you’ve started. The disgusting part, though, is the tea. You select the option without sugar yet what you get tastes like heated up Lipton tea from a can. When you’re finished, you can see the sugarwater at the bottom of the cup. Gross.
You may be thinking – what is her problem? Really, a laptop, a keyboard, a cup of tea…get a grip, right? Well, it’s these little things that add up to culture shock for me. Sure, I expect people to speak French, to not understand menus, to have to study maps, etc. but things like this that catch me off guard really put me off kilter! True, on my next trip here, I’ll be expecting them, but it’s still an adjustment. Really, this keyboard thing is troublesome!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Best, simplest dinner ever
I am in Paris for work this week (again). And, no, it is not glamorous. The Eurostar always makes me feel about 20% queasy. Just enough to make me feel weird, but not enough to actually be sick, or not go in to the office. I’ve tried eating / not eating; drinking / not drinking (free wine in business premier class); sleeping; doing work. Nothing seems to work. And I’m not a motion sick type of person in cars or planes. Can read happily there.
Met two colleagues / friends at near their hotel for dinner tonight (there are about 10 of us from London here this week). (Why am I not at their hotel? Well, always best to stay near one’s boss, in terms of location and price…) Anyway. Got off the Metro at Ave Victor Hugo, got off at exit Ave Raymond Pic… and started walking. Got to Avenue Foch and basically said Fooccchhhh! I knew I had gone the wrong way. This is about the widest Blvd ever, and richest street in the city I think. Turned around, walked UP the hill, and met my friends. We had dinner. Fan-tab-u-lous! The goat cheese (chevre) salad was perfect. Just lettuce, three pieces of toasted baguette (crostini?) upon each was placed a huge slice of chevre thicker and wider than the bread. Had great wine. Had crème brulée for dessert. My absolute favorite (after Graeter’s chocolate chip ice cream of course). This was the BEST crème brulée ever. No pretenses. Just basic vanilla. In a dish nearly the length of my forearm. Perfect. Thank you and good night!
Met two colleagues / friends at near their hotel for dinner tonight (there are about 10 of us from London here this week). (Why am I not at their hotel? Well, always best to stay near one’s boss, in terms of location and price…) Anyway. Got off the Metro at Ave Victor Hugo, got off at exit Ave Raymond Pic… and started walking. Got to Avenue Foch and basically said Fooccchhhh! I knew I had gone the wrong way. This is about the widest Blvd ever, and richest street in the city I think. Turned around, walked UP the hill, and met my friends. We had dinner. Fan-tab-u-lous! The goat cheese (chevre) salad was perfect. Just lettuce, three pieces of toasted baguette (crostini?) upon each was placed a huge slice of chevre thicker and wider than the bread. Had great wine. Had crème brulée for dessert. My absolute favorite (after Graeter’s chocolate chip ice cream of course). This was the BEST crème brulée ever. No pretenses. Just basic vanilla. In a dish nearly the length of my forearm. Perfect. Thank you and good night!
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