9 November, 2007 | Comments are off

I will be a French lawyer.

The owner of the apartment rental agency finally sent an affidavit to my lawyer in which he explained all of his evidence. Did I tell you I was persuasive? In Hebrew, my name means “argumentative.” (Seriously.)

I’ve spent hours this week contacting people about submitting affidavits to the court for me. I did not realize before that Americans could submit affidavits for me and that their testimony can be translated into French. Some of my friends from home actually have evidence that can help me. I’ve also had to write to people I knew in Paris and to at least one of them I had to write a long letter in French, which is taxing. My French isn’t great; however, my legal French is getting good.

(more…)

6 November, 2007 | 3 Comments

Just an update on the French legal drama. My case was supposed to be pleaded today before the Tribunal d’Instance in Paris. As expected, my landlady’s lawyer submitted her documents to the court at the close of business yesterday. Unbelievable. My lawyer got a postponement this morning.

My landlady’s lawyer wants the case moved to a different jurisdiction, which is apparently what a lawyer does when she has no evidence. My lawyer will not fight this because we have the law on our side and we want to speed this process up. They also claim I owe them money for all sorts of things. They say I didn’t give 30 days notice (I have proof that I did) and they claim I owe taxes on the apartment. Normally renters have to pay tax, but this was not part of my agreement with the landlady, as outlined in the contract. She left it out of the contract because, unbeknownst to me at the time, she is committing tax fraud against the French government. Of course, the only person with evidence of this is that slimeball who owns the rental agency. So now I must get the affidavit from him. I also need to get affidavits from French friends who can testify to the personal emotional distress I suffered because of my landlady’s actions. That shouldn’t be hard. While I’m at it, maybe I can get the therapist I had to see in Paris as a result of all this crap to write a sworn affidavit too.

My lawyer, meanwhile, suddenly seems quite excited about all of this. She wrote to me in an email: “After what [your landlady's lawyer] did yesterday, the fight has really begun and I am ready to face it.” Well, you go girl. I wish I were that fired up, but I really just wanted this to be over today. That was my heartfelt wish.

2 November, 2007 | 8 Comments

I’m not a gal who is afraid to speak her mind. People irritate me quite often, but I handle it pretty well. I am not a screamer. I don’t like yelling. While I do get mad, I don’t often find myself in the midst of a blinding rage. It’s simply not my style.

However.

When it comes to certain peoples of the French nation, sometimes I just lose it. I shout. I become filled with rage. I make threats. I say nasty, vicious things. It’s scary, actually, to see this side of myself emerge. While living in France for just eight months, I got into heated arguments with at least three people I had business dealings with. In the whole five years I lived in NYC, this never happened. Getting upset like this is an ugly, almost repulsive feeling, but what can I say? I was provoked. Thank the Lord Jesus that when I was living in France, I never had access to a firearm.

I realize France is a Latin country and I am an Anglo-Saxon. Perhaps I shouldn’t let these encounters bother me, perhaps it’s just the way things are done, but I don’t handle this sort of thing very well. Anyway, I am telling you this little story for a reason. Today, once again, I felt the rage.

(more…)

23 October, 2007 | 1 Comment

Some macarons I bought in Paris at Ladurée. I only had to wait in the queue for over half an hour (no joke). I prefer the pink rose-flavored ones. The black ones, called réglisse (a very mild licorice flavor) are also quite good. Hell, they’re all good. This was not my only Ladurée stop. I also went to the tearoom in the Madeleine shop and had a rose-flavored réligieuse with some orange-blossom tea. That, my friends, is the life.

16 October, 2007 | 4 Comments

“Paris is a bitch, but I love her anyway.”

An Englishwoman who once lived in Paris shared this little saying with me the other day. We were chatting about how Paris is magical and wondrous, yet sometimes living there can be a complete nightmare. In her view, it’s a nightmare “at least 50 percent of the time.” But when you experience the fabulous parts of Paris, it’s like a dream. In Paris, all of your senses are aroused and you can walk the streets and feel as if your feet have never touched the ground. There’s no place like it in the world.

This feeling is so intoxicating that many foreigner visitors vow to move there permanently. This is an understandable but nevertheless misguided notion for the vast majority of Paris lovers. The spell that Paris casts is best experienced in small, dream-like doses. That is its power. Strolls along the Seine, reading in the gardens, the abundance of art and architecture, decadent treats in cozy cafés — this is the postcard Paris that bewitches so many of us, that draws us back again and again. But one cannot live in a postcard, so to settle in Paris over the long haul means experiencing a different side of it, one that is sometimes difficult for dreamers and romantics to handle. The real world will eventually intrude.

(more…)

13 September, 2007 | 9 Comments

My lawsuit against my French landlady is finally taking off. It’s taken a while to get going, not because my lawyer was dragging her feet but because I was. I just didn’t want to deal with this. I didn’t want any more drama. I also fear the French courts will rule against me because I’m American or because of some ridiculous French legal technicality. I still think this could happen, but I’m moving ahead with the lawsuit anyway. Did I mention that the weasel who runs the apartment rental agency forwarded my lawyer a whole list of people this landlady has previously screwed over?

My lawyer just sent me a draft copy of the complaint for my approval. It’s all in French, but I understood it. [I've noticed recently how much my French has improved!] I was literally stunned to read the complaint she drafted, particularly this:

Le préjudice subi par la demanderesse, directement imputable à la mauvaise foi de la propriétaire qui a apparemment voulu profiter de la situation d’infériorité dans laquelle se trouvait Mademoiselle [Anglofille], étudiante étrangère, doit être réparé à hauteur de 5.000€.

This essentially states that I suffered damage at the hands of the apartment owner, who acted in bad faith because she wanted to take advantage of my inferior status as a foreign student. The apartment owner must make up for this…in the amount of 5,000 euros! This is equal to $7,000/£3,500.

Throughout the complaint, my lawyer refers to the abusive treatment I suffered and explains that this directly contributed to my having to leave Paris earlier than expected. In addition to the 5,000€ and the return of my deposit and guarantie, she is also asking for more money in accordance with some French civil code. I have no idea what this means, but the upshot is that I am suing this witch for nearly $13,000/£6,500. When I read this, I was filled with glee. I know I’ll be lucky just to get the deposit and guarantie back, but on principle I really appreciate what my lawyer is doing. And I bet the landlady will have a heart attack when she reads this. Good. Maybe she’ll die!

(more…)

23 May, 2007 | Enter your password to view comments

5 May, 2007 | Enter your password to view comments

12 April, 2007 | 5 Comments

I’m leaving early in the morning…but there’s always time for one more sunset.

And what a sunset it was. The perfect ending.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

Au revoir, Paris. Vous aurez toujours un endroit à mon coeur…

xx

11 April, 2007 | 9 Comments

I’ve just been kissed by about five different Frenchmen. That’s one thing I’ll miss about France — kisses from strange men. Lots of ‘em.

I went down to my landlord’s apartment and his son was having a dinner party — I was there to borrow the vacuum, which made me feel like Cinderella. One of the gents that kissed me was intent on making me try his beer, which he said is full of vitamin D and good for me. I don’t drink beer. He said I have no chance of making it in London. It’s tough, I told him, but I try. Then they tried to get me to eat some cheese and some sausage. I can’t eat either of those things. It’s times like these when my absolute freakishness becomes blindingly obvious. Sigh.

My landlord’s son (hello if you’re reading this!) was wearing a t-shirt that had a cartoon drawing of Bush with a gun to his head. The text said: Save the World, Kill Yourself. Then at the bottom it said: One finger away from happiness.

What a day.

So I’m pretty much done packing. Yes, it happened. My sincere apologies, in advance, to the taxi driver who will take me to Paris Nord and to his or her English counterpart who will pick me up at Waterloo. We should all take a moment and pray that they survive their encounter with me and my baggage.

(more…)

9 April, 2007 | 3 Comments

Suitcase removed from closet. Packing underway. Meltdown Alert: Elevated

6 April, 2007 | 2 Comments

Every time I go out now and walk the streets of Paris, I experience that wistful feeling that comes with the knowledge I’m about to leave this place. I feel the longing, the yearning, for what I’m about to lose. It’s intense. And the thing is, I take pleasure in longing and yearning, perhaps because this state of being is the opposite of contentedness. I’m not very good at being content, but I’m working on it…

Despite this, I am thrilled to bits that London is calling so quickly. I can’t wait to get back for so many different reasons. In some ways, I want to hop on the Eurostar right now and get out of here. I’m not sure what to make of all these conflicting emotions, but I’ll just ride them out.

(more…)

4 April, 2007 | 9 Comments

Warning: This post is long. And there are tons of photos of food. After putting this together, I think I may need another month off…

I have eaten soooo much over the past week, as you are about to see. My sister and her friend were visiting. They love French desserts and so do I. There were a few pâtisseries I wanted to try before moving, but I waited for them to experience my I’m-leaving-Paris-soon pastry blow-out 2007. Most people like yummy desserts and treats, but this sort of experience needs to be shared with real enthusiasts, those who can bite into a religieuse from Ladurée and react as if they’ve just been injected with some sort of illegal street drug.

We didn’t just eat pastries, though these formed the basis of our diet. Green vegetables? Not so much. Fruit? Not unless it was under a dollop of whipped cream, thank you very much. Actual nutrition wasn’t important. We wanted to get high, baby. Sugar high.

I already wrote about our breakfast at Ladurée. Here’s a sampling of what else we ate…

L’Ombre de Notre Dame [The Shadow of Notre Dame]

The apartment they rented was literally right next door to the place that makes the best crêpes I’ve ever tasted. Last autumn I walked by here on my way home from the Sorbonne and would frequently stop for a crêpe with Nutella. As the name implies, it’s right across the street from Notre Dame on rue du Cloître Notre-Dame. This was the first time I had tried their other food and it was wonderful. Most French cafés and brasseries have the same exact menu (steak and fries, chicken and fries, omelette and fries, sandwiches). And the quality of these dishes varies greatly from café to café, so once you find a good one you stick with it. We ate lunch there on their first day (and returned for dinner a few days later). I had a tuna sandwich, but my sister had what the French call a hot dog (more like a real sausage):

And J. had French oignon soup:

They were a bit horrified by my choice of drink, an Evian Menthe. A French friend got me hooked on these — mint syrup and ice in a glass:

Which you then mix with bottled water:

Yum. My sister thought it tasted like cough syrup.

(more…)

3 April, 2007 | 6 Comments

My sister and her friend rented an apartment for their stay in Paris. Behold the umbrella stand inside their temporary Parisian home:

Notice anything strange?

You know, given my experiences of Paris apartment owners, I don’t recommend allowing tenants access to a firearm.

30 March, 2007 | 7 Comments

This morning I enjoyed a breakfast that I will dream about for weeks, months…years. Yes, it was that good.

I became a fan of Ladurée last fall when I tasted their macarons. My sister and her friend are in Paris right now and my sister’s friend is a big Ladurée lover too. Before their arrival, I discovered that Ladurée offers breakfast that isn’t just the standard pastry, baguette and yogurt. No, Ladurée offers…French toast! With maple syrup! I have no idea if French toast is actually French in origin — perhaps like French fries, it’s a Belgian creation. They call it “le pain perdu” here — lost bread.

Since my visitors have been in town, we’ve been eating non-stop. (More photos to come!) But today is the day we’ve been waiting for, French toast day. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had French toast? Sigh. And this is no ordinary French toast. I’m no culinary expert, but it appears to be made with brioche. We each ordered our own serving and none of us could completely finish it. It was divine — but very rich and sweet, so much so that we each got a rather nasty headache-inducing sugar buzz towards the end. But who cares.

(more…)

29 March, 2007 | 3 Comments

I bought a new handbag today. I could fit a toddler or a medium-sized dog in it. In other words, it’s just the right size.

I’ve been looking for a handbag for quite a while. I went to Galeries Lafayette, but found nothing I wanted that cost less than 900€. God, sometimes I wish I had a Sugar Daddy. That’s just a fleeting fantasy though, so don’t worry. Becoming a respectable sort-of prostitute doesn’t appeal to me. Plus, no Sugar Daddy would want me — I’m too combative.

So anyway, they had a sale bin at Galeries Lafayette — you know, where a bunch of purses are thrown in and you can rummage through the pile and perhaps find something that isn’t total crap? Well, at Galeries Lafayette this sale bin contained 500€ Burberry handbags. Only in Paris.

I ended up going to a neighborhood shop and buying a cheapish purse that looks expensive. If it lasts till the end of the summer, I’ll be shocked.

(more…)

22 March, 2007 | 7 Comments

By Anglofille.

I’m going to share with you an old favorite. Without this gem of a dish, there are many days when yours truly might have gone hungry over the past few months. While this dish may be enjoyed by anyone, it is perfect for students, the culinary-challenged, lazy people and poor people. [If you're like me, you may in fact be a combination of all these things.]

Go to your local French supermarket, preferably FranPrix, and purchase a packet of Nouilles Orientales Saveur Poulet (Savory Chicken Oriental Noodles — also comes in beef and curry flavors).

Once at home in your kitchen, forget measuring cups, ingredients, aprons, etc. There’s no need. Drop the block of noodles into a pot of boiling water. Add the packet of dehydrated chicken-flavored powder. Boil for three minutes, stirring occasionally.

Eat.

These noodles can be enjoyed for breakfast, lunch or dinner [or possibly at all three meals during times of extreme poverty and/or laziness]. I can’t possibly convey to you how delicious they are. They taste better than meals I’ve eaten in French cafés (seriously) and at .34 centimes per packet, they are much cheaper.

21 March, 2007 | Comments are off

I met with my lawyer today in her office off the Champs-Elysées. [That makes me sound very important, doesn't it?] She is French, but she works for an American lawyer who has a firm here in Paris. I found him via the American Embassy and I chose his firm because he’s a member of the Paris bar…and the New York bar. And you know, my former landlady really deserves a big ol’ dose of New York-style whoop ass. And now that’s what she’s gonna get.

So the reason I am relaying this anecdote is this: I met with my lawyer in the firm’s fancy schmancy conference room this afternoon and on the wall there is a giant Andy Warhol-esque painting of…John Wayne, wearing a cowboy hat and holding a gun.

It was awesome.

You know, sometimes my life in Paris just makes me laugh.

21 March, 2007 | Comments are off

Yesterday I told someone to pardon my French. I meant it literally, of course, because my French leaves much to be desired. But still, I couldn’t help but laugh after I said it.

21 March, 2007 | 4 Comments

My dilemma of the week: To get bangs or not. I was looking at my British student visa photo in my passport and I had bangs then! I had forgotten about that. As you can see from this severely cropped photo, my bangs have grown out all the way and are no longer even bangs:

I like to let the strands of hair just sort of hang in long wisps. But now I’ve been considering giving them the chop. Decisions, decisions. What’s really stopping me is the fact that the woman who cuts my hair here doesn’t speak a word of English, so this could really be disastrous. She would most likely misinterpret my instructions. Not only does she not speak English, but she is convinced I am from Texas, no matter how many times I try to correct her. I don’t understand her fixation with Texas, but I fear her vision of the place has been shaped by Hollywood. As such, I could very well depart the salon with a giant bouffant hairdo. Shiver.