It’s funny, but someone told me that a single cash fare on the London Underground (Zone 1) now costs £4. And I told them there is no way in hell that any city on earth would have the chutzpah to charge people the equivalent of $8/6€ to ride the metro system — a single journey, one-way. In New York City or Paris, you could take a cab for that price. I’m sure – absolutely sure – that if any such fare increases were proposed, people would have taken to the streets en masse to protest what is essentially a crime against the citizenry – and a big middle finger to tourists. Even though one has the option of buying a card to receive a substantially reduced fare (though it’s not very convenient for visitors), the mere symbolism of charging £4 to ride public transport – the purpose of which is to provide accessible and affordable transportation to all people – would be so distasteful that the public would not stand for it.
That’s the last time I listen to that person. What were they smoking?
I’ve mentioned before that I have a job with an American company. No one there knows about my blog and I want to keep it that way, so I can’t write about my work here. What I do is very specialized, so I can’t even write about it in a general way. But it’s a job that can be done from anywhere on earth, as long as I have an internet connection. If it wasn’t for this job, I wouldn’t have been able to move abroad. So, as you can imagine, it’s a big deal to me.
My happy news is that today I found out I got a big promotion! I’ve had phone interviews over the past few weeks with HR and the VP of this or that. I’ve been very anxious about this but today I got the news I’ve been hoping for. I will now have to do twice as much work, but I’ll be making twice as much money. This is something I desperately needed. It will really benefit my life in so many ways, especially as I get ready to go back to London. Of course I’m thrilled to be making more money, but also, I’ve been employed by this company for two years and this is a real acknowledgment of the work I’ve done for them so far.
I’m writing about this because, well, it’s nice to have good news to share for once. And also because I feel that sometimes, through this blog, I give the impression that my life is one giant train wreck. So you see, there is another side to me you don’t know about — the hardworking, professional, responsible side. Just thought I’d point that out…
In the Jardin du Luxembourg. I went there on Saturday for the first time in months. Since my classes at the Sorbonne ended, I’m not in that area as much anymore. I miss it so. Once spring arrives, I plan to spend as many of the afternoons I have left to me in Paris sitting in one of the chairs, reading a book or writing in a journal. Heaven.
The other night I was walking home around midnight. I crossed the Champs-Elysées — on a green pedestrian light, for once. I wasn’t listening to music, but must have been lost in thought nonetheless. All of a sudden I heard a man scream “Attention!” He then threw half of his body in front of me to stop me from walking. As he did this, a car zoomed through the crosswalk.
I’ve seen many fabulous sunsets since being in Paris, but last night’s was truly spectacular. You know it’s special when locals with camera phones are trying to elbow the tourists out of the way. And I just happened to be in a prime spot on the Seine — lucky me! Watching this scene filled me with such intense feeling that I felt slightly woozy afterwards. I’m serious. To live in Paris is to be reminded that the world is a beautiful place, if only you take the time to look.
I’m so glad that all this visa nonsense is now behind me. It’s so very scary sometimes to realize that you’re not in control of something as basic as where you live. My British visa doesn’t need to be renewed until October 2008, so unless I commit a felony between now and then, I should be okay. [I normally keep my nose clean, but if anyone in London tries to unlawfully evict me from an apartment or steal my deposit, I may actually commit murder.]
While the British student visa is usually valid for the entire length of your stay, I’ve had to renew the French visa twice in six months, not counting my initial appointment at the French consulate in London. And then there was the costly and intrusive medical exam. For each appointment, I had to compile a huge stack of documents — my birth certificate, bank statements, apartment contracts, etc. — and when I presented them to the officials, they checked off that I brought them but never even glanced at them. It’s bureaucracy for the sake of bureaucracy. I could have brought in Osama bin Laden’s birth certificate and they never would have noticed.
I’ve heard so many horror stories about French immigration officials, that they’re heartless bureaucrats who gleefully ruin lives with one swirl of a pen. I feel it’s my duty to point out that they’ve all been extremely nice to me. Of course, I’m sure this has a lot to do with the fact that I’m just a student, that I’m American and maybe that I’m white. A French friend told me if I were Moroccan or Chinese, I would have been on the first plane home. In fact, the sole reason I am being allowed to overstay my visa by a little bit is because I am American. That’s the reason the policewoman I met with gave me. Parce que vous êtes Américaine, ce n’est pas un problème, she said. I swear I’m not making this up. See, French people like Americans. At one point when we were talking, she said a word that I could not understand. It was an important word, but I had forgotten my dictionary and couldn’t look it up. She apologized because it was a word she didn’t know in English and thus couldn’t translate! Very strange indeed.
So now I have seven weeks and two days left in Paris. I have been freed from the bonds of daily French class (hurrah!) so each day after I do my work (yes, I do work and seven days a week at that), I am free to explore the city. For seven whole weeks! I have a list of things I want to see, but my main goal is to just wander around Paris, an activity that has brought me so much joy over the past few months. My sister and her friend will be here for a week at the end of March, so I will be in full tourist throttle then. [There's even talk of Disneyland.]
So I’ll be writing a ton about Paris and taking lots of photos. I hope you’ll come along with me.
You know, these French immigration officials are putty in my hands.
So I’ll write more about this later, but I need to crash now. I’m exhausted.
But before I go, big kisses! [Sorry for all the kissing, but my Frenchness now has an expiration date so I need to use it up.] And also, here’s some music to celebrate. Turn it up loud!
So the thing is, I’m moving back to London on May 1st.
Hurrah! Jolly good!
I’m very excited about this for a number of reasons. You know, many truly fabulous things have happened to me during my break from blogging and I’m dying to tell you all about them. Decisions have been made, plans are moving forward. But I’ve been distracted this week by the never-ending drama that is my life in Paris, so I will have to wait to share my news.
je pousse un soupir…
The biggest worry is my visa renewal appointment tomorrow with the police. I’m not sure how things are going to go and if they don’t go in my favor, I’m not sure what will happen. This plan to move back to London has been moving forward for weeks now. [I've already lined up temporary accommodation for May and June, a huge relief.] As such, I did not register for French class at the Sorbonne this term. I could have switched to a language school, but I kept putting this off because my future plans were up in the air and I couldn’t commit to a long-term course. (And to be honest, I’m tired of being in French class for four hours a day. To learn French, all I need to do is walk out the front door.) So after talking to other expats, the American Embassy and the confidential foreigners’ helpline at the police station, I feel there’s a good chance they’ll let me stay here till May 1st on a tourist visa. I want to do this in the legal way, rather than just over-staying my visa, because I don’t feel reckless enough to take such a risk right now. I’m nervous about what will happen tomorrow. If I’m not allowed to stay in Paris till the London move, I’m not sure where I’ll go. I really want to stay in Paris a bit longer, though if I have to leave it’s no great tragedy. I just dread more upheaval and uncertainty.
And I’m also a bit distracted this week because over the past few days I have begun legal proceedings against my first landlady, who is refusing to return the hefty deposit and guarantie I paid her last August. She is refusing to give this money back because, quite simply, she is a crook. A friend of mine here said if she doesn’t give my money back, he’ll break her kneecaps. Well, there’s always that option, but I guess I’ll try this legal route first.
[This morning I talked with the owner of the agency I rented this apartment through. I demanded he get my money back for me because, I said, thanks to him I had rented an apartment from a criminal. He said he doesn't care if she's a criminal or if she murdered five people. He's not paying for the lawyer. It's on days like this that I rilly love the French peoples.]
So you see, I have lots of good news to share (I do!), but I’ve got a lot on my mind. You might not hear from me for a few days, but don’t worry about Anglofille. I’m a much stronger person now than I was just a few weeks ago for lots of reasons and also ‘cuz I is in therapy now. I’ve learned that when you move to a foreign country, you’re in much less control of your fate. It’s tough, but I’ve learned to live with it.
So I leave you, for now, with a song I like — I walked the streets of Paris yesterday with this blasting in my ears and it made me feel much better. And then, of course, there’s a beautiful picture of Paris. Because no matter what, this is the most beautiful city in the world — and don’t ever let anybody tell you any different.
Big congrats to my former grad school classmate, Sheridan Hay, on the publication today of her first novel. If she wasn’t such a nice person, I’d probably hate her a little bit right now! But instead, I am thrilled for her. I remember hearing her read from her then novel-in-progress when we were MFA students together, during those golden days in Vermont when all of us in the program spent our time writing and sharing our work and talking about literature and making friends we knew we’d have for life. And now Sheridan’s novel has been born into the world. I can’t wait to read the finished product. Way to go, Sheridan!
I went to the salon today to get my hair cut, which means that for one glorious day I get to have perfectly straight hair. [It took two women, each with a giant brush and a blow-drier, to achieve this. My poor aching scalp.]
The freaky Parisian water has done a number on my hair, making it wavy and frizzy and just a giant mess. I was in a bookstore a few months ago, flipping through a book for expats to France. It said the water here is full of calcium deposits and other minerals that aren’t kind to your hair, but that after three months or so your tresses should adjust. Pshaw! The book suggested washing your hair with vinegar. I couldn’t be bothered.
The book also said that the water in France is widely regarded as the tastiest in Western Europe, but then everyone here drinks bottled water so it doesn’t matter.
The best thing about going to the salon, besides getting to have straight hair, is that I read a bunch of trashy French celebrity magazines. Because these ’zines are written for people with poor reading skills, I was actually able to understand most of the articles. It was funny to see the way these magazines have adopted certain English-language words. For example, I was reading an article about Anna Nicole Smith and it referred to her repeatedly as “la bimbo” in a very matter-of-fact way, as if this is a standard description, not a disparaging term. “Avocat de la bimbo…” [“The bimbo’s lawyer…”], etc. And my favorite: “La mort de l’ icône trash…” [“The death of the trash icon…”]. I guess the notion of not kicking someone while she’s down has yet to reach French shores.
An arc-en-ciel spanning the sky above Paris, from the Ile de la Cité, above the Louvre and the Tuileries and the Place de la Concorde, touching down behind La Madeleine. It was so enormous that it couldn’t be photographed as a whole. The left half faded quickly, but the right side, pictured here, was intense and bright and lasted for so long that it defied belief.
A few weeks ago I was looking for a sign. I rounded a corner and I saw a rainbow appear and then vanish very quickly. Rather unbelievably, once again this evening I was looking for a sign. And I think I found it.
That’s Paris, full of surprises.
I never thought I’d stay away from the blog for so long. I have a lot to say, but for now I’ll just stick with photos. The words will come, eventually, in their own time.
![Last Night’s Sunset [Again]](http://www.anglofille.com/wp-content/image-headlines/3a0d4ad04e0a6341ddda80f85499c826.png){kind=small}
