I’m getting a little more comfortable. (Insert smile here) This is a relief. Though, I still have a long way to go and I’ll never be a true Parisian. Nevertheless, there are some nuances to my short term “life” here in Paris that I’m beginning to pick up on, if not rely on a bit. For instance....
The floor at my house creaks. I think I mentioned it before. I love it. It feels old and quintessentially Parisian, but also LOUD. I’m learning which way each of the door knobs turn--for they’re all different. I’m learning when to put my wash in a how long it takes to dry and how to take advantage of the natural light in my bedroom during the day and suffer the cold for it too. I'm learning how to make the shower head work to my advantage finally, since the hot water is never reliable or steady. But I'm figuring it out.
I frequent the same bakery every day and the lady knows me. She knows I’m used to the snow and that I teach English. One day, I went in exceptionally early and she was so excited to see me, because she had some customers that spoke only English and they were all struggling. I helped out and now we’re friends.
I’ve figured out the Metro pretty darn well. There are many lines and areas of Paris that I’ve still yet to step foot in, but I now know which part of the train to get on when I’m running late so that I don’t have to walk as far and which platform my train out to the banlieues leaves from and the times that they leave each hour....so much easier now. I have the RER-train-announcer-lady's speech memorized too. And not for trying. Votre attention, s'il vous plait. Ce train desservie tous les gares jusqu'à Villier sur Marne... "Your attention please, this train serves all the stations through Villier sur Marne..."
I get stopped and asked for directions often. I feel complimented because that means that I look like I know where I’m at and where I’m going. Most of the time I can help to, which is amazing considering I’m generally so bad with directions!
I’m learning where to buy my groceries and when. In the morning and evening is when the bread is baked in Paris...by law, and there’s a open air market by my house every Friday with delicious rosted pomme de terres. Also, I am ecstatic to have found a specialty whole bean coffee vendor around the corner from me!! Good coffee beans are not as prolific in Paris as one would think, and I’m fast becoming friends with “Ludo”--he knows me already too.
Everyday I look at Sacré Cœur to see what the weather’s going to be like that day. My favorite is when the sky is blue, no matter how cold, because it makes the church stand out in stark contrast--elle est si blanche et belle.
It’s still weird to me sometimes that, if it’s the right time of day, I only have to walk down a couple flights of stairs to buy bread. Or cheese--that’s a different shop--or go to the bank or get a cup of coffee. It’s all compacted and within walking distance. AND I haven’t driven a car in over two months!
I smile sometimes watching people in the streets or in cafes, because sometimes it all reminds me of the opening scene in Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” where the whole town opens their windows and runs through the streets declaring “Bonjour!” And then the baker sells the same bread every day, and the same woman orders eggs from the same gentleman every day as well....There so much of that that is accurate!
But, anyway, I’m thrilled to be finding a groove in my neighborhood, in my job, and in my home. I am so glad to be discovering these new nuances that maybe I’ve always taken for granted in the States.
I’m also learning how to approach these French too; those renowned rude Parisians. This is huge. I’ve learned that it is cultural to always verbally greet someone who shares some sort of quotidian commonality. Usually it goes no farther than “bonjour” or “bonsoir” depending on the time of day, but I must always greet the people at school or in the apartment complex, regardless of whether or not I’ve been introduced to them. However, if none of that quotidian common ground is shared, this is not otherwise done in passing. However, upon entering a shop or cafe, a “bonjour” is necessary as well, even if it’s not directed at anyone in particular--it’s still noticed.
If you need help or have a question--which is considerably more than utterly and entirely inevitable in this city--all that is required, is a little politesse: “I’m sorry to bother you, Monsieur (Madame)...” Then you wait for them to say that you’re not bothering them at all...or you talk over them while they’re saying that to do your business and acquire the services or information desired. If the conversation prolongs, you interject at some appropriate point, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French very well....je m’excuse...” And then they take the time to tell you at least that it’s not a problem or they’ll even disagree and compliment your language skills, all the while bending over backwards IF and quite usually only IF you follow this code and dance this social dance. Sometimes this ends up in a conversation about where I’m from too, Oregon and Alaska and then Sarah Palin...which is *sigh* unpleasant. Sometimes I just say I’m from the West Coast, that encompasses both Oregon and Alaska, right?!
Now that I’ve figured it out, I kind of like it. The magic words are “Excusez-moi de vous déranger....”, a humble attitude and a smile. I’m a student of this culture and this city, the Parisians know this--and as long as they know that I know this too, they will go to great lengths to help.
I’ve found that this motivates me, too, to pass this on to others. If I’m in my neighborhood and see a couple or a group huddled over a map, and brabbling in English, I’m happy to help (and speak English for a few moments too!). The other day I was waylaid by a Portuguese family looking for a particular restaurant in Montmartre. I didn’t know where it was, but I was able to ask. I love that.
Paris is at once easy to access and incredibly confusing. One may have options galore, but to actually fully access them, there is some protocol involved. Honestly, I cannot begrudge the French for requiring a bit of manners to access their goodwill. Perhaps the world could use a few more manners anyway.
That said, I feel that I must take leave with the traditional French (as I promised myself that this blog entry would not be as epic as the last): “Merci beaucoup, et bonne soirée. Au revoir!
The floor at my house creaks. I think I mentioned it before. I love it. It feels old and quintessentially Parisian, but also LOUD. I’m learning which way each of the door knobs turn--for they’re all different. I’m learning when to put my wash in a how long it takes to dry and how to take advantage of the natural light in my bedroom during the day and suffer the cold for it too. I'm learning how to make the shower head work to my advantage finally, since the hot water is never reliable or steady. But I'm figuring it out.
I frequent the same bakery every day and the lady knows me. She knows I’m used to the snow and that I teach English. One day, I went in exceptionally early and she was so excited to see me, because she had some customers that spoke only English and they were all struggling. I helped out and now we’re friends.
I’ve figured out the Metro pretty darn well. There are many lines and areas of Paris that I’ve still yet to step foot in, but I now know which part of the train to get on when I’m running late so that I don’t have to walk as far and which platform my train out to the banlieues leaves from and the times that they leave each hour....so much easier now. I have the RER-train-announcer-lady's speech memorized too. And not for trying. Votre attention, s'il vous plait. Ce train desservie tous les gares jusqu'à Villier sur Marne... "Your attention please, this train serves all the stations through Villier sur Marne..."
I get stopped and asked for directions often. I feel complimented because that means that I look like I know where I’m at and where I’m going. Most of the time I can help to, which is amazing considering I’m generally so bad with directions!
I’m learning where to buy my groceries and when. In the morning and evening is when the bread is baked in Paris...by law, and there’s a open air market by my house every Friday with delicious rosted pomme de terres. Also, I am ecstatic to have found a specialty whole bean coffee vendor around the corner from me!! Good coffee beans are not as prolific in Paris as one would think, and I’m fast becoming friends with “Ludo”--he knows me already too.
Everyday I look at Sacré Cœur to see what the weather’s going to be like that day. My favorite is when the sky is blue, no matter how cold, because it makes the church stand out in stark contrast--elle est si blanche et belle.
It’s still weird to me sometimes that, if it’s the right time of day, I only have to walk down a couple flights of stairs to buy bread. Or cheese--that’s a different shop--or go to the bank or get a cup of coffee. It’s all compacted and within walking distance. AND I haven’t driven a car in over two months!
I smile sometimes watching people in the streets or in cafes, because sometimes it all reminds me of the opening scene in Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” where the whole town opens their windows and runs through the streets declaring “Bonjour!” And then the baker sells the same bread every day, and the same woman orders eggs from the same gentleman every day as well....There so much of that that is accurate!
But, anyway, I’m thrilled to be finding a groove in my neighborhood, in my job, and in my home. I am so glad to be discovering these new nuances that maybe I’ve always taken for granted in the States.
I’m also learning how to approach these French too; those renowned rude Parisians. This is huge. I’ve learned that it is cultural to always verbally greet someone who shares some sort of quotidian commonality. Usually it goes no farther than “bonjour” or “bonsoir” depending on the time of day, but I must always greet the people at school or in the apartment complex, regardless of whether or not I’ve been introduced to them. However, if none of that quotidian common ground is shared, this is not otherwise done in passing. However, upon entering a shop or cafe, a “bonjour” is necessary as well, even if it’s not directed at anyone in particular--it’s still noticed.
If you need help or have a question--which is considerably more than utterly and entirely inevitable in this city--all that is required, is a little politesse: “I’m sorry to bother you, Monsieur (Madame)...” Then you wait for them to say that you’re not bothering them at all...or you talk over them while they’re saying that to do your business and acquire the services or information desired. If the conversation prolongs, you interject at some appropriate point, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French very well....je m’excuse...” And then they take the time to tell you at least that it’s not a problem or they’ll even disagree and compliment your language skills, all the while bending over backwards IF and quite usually only IF you follow this code and dance this social dance. Sometimes this ends up in a conversation about where I’m from too, Oregon and Alaska and then Sarah Palin...which is *sigh* unpleasant. Sometimes I just say I’m from the West Coast, that encompasses both Oregon and Alaska, right?!
Now that I’ve figured it out, I kind of like it. The magic words are “Excusez-moi de vous déranger....”, a humble attitude and a smile. I’m a student of this culture and this city, the Parisians know this--and as long as they know that I know this too, they will go to great lengths to help.
I’ve found that this motivates me, too, to pass this on to others. If I’m in my neighborhood and see a couple or a group huddled over a map, and brabbling in English, I’m happy to help (and speak English for a few moments too!). The other day I was waylaid by a Portuguese family looking for a particular restaurant in Montmartre. I didn’t know where it was, but I was able to ask. I love that.
Paris is at once easy to access and incredibly confusing. One may have options galore, but to actually fully access them, there is some protocol involved. Honestly, I cannot begrudge the French for requiring a bit of manners to access their goodwill. Perhaps the world could use a few more manners anyway.
That said, I feel that I must take leave with the traditional French (as I promised myself that this blog entry would not be as epic as the last): “Merci beaucoup, et bonne soirée. Au revoir!
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