I was so tired writing my last post that I didn't realize until my rainy walk home tonight that there was a lot I didn't say. First, my apartment. I'm living in the 16th arrondissement. It's a very wealthy neighborhood, and much more residential than the rest of Paris. When I say wealthy, I mean land of $4 million apartments. But it has it's perks. My building is gorgeous and ornate- the stereotypical Parisian building, with an intricate façade and wrought iron balconies. And of course, as it always happens, I am in the maid's chambers or "la chambre de bonne." That explains the small spaces and 7th story location.
I'm really enjoying being in such a small space though. It makes me very aware of the noise I make (Fun fact: it is a law- a real law- in France that very little noise can be made in a residential situation between 10pm and 8am) and the things I have. We take space for granted in the U.S. and it's so easy to spread out there. Here, it makes sense to live more simply. Enjoying space outside of your house and being fully aware of the energy, water, and resources you use.
Anyway, back to the fun stuff. My building is about a block away from Trocadero and just across the river from the Eiffel Tower. My metro line is one of the few that comes above ground for a while, which means every morning I have a gorgeous sunrise view of the tower before being swiftly carried back into the city's underground. If I walk to the store, I only have to turn once and am taken aback by the glistening sights of Paris.
I had my first solo café experience yesterday. I had been vaguely timid about going into a café by myself and ordering, horrified to be completely misunderstood. But after a culture orientation I was beat and feeling courageous, so I waltzed into a café on my walk to the Musée D'Orsay, politely said "Bonjour!" very loudly to the staff, walked right up to the bar and ordered, "Un express, s'il vous plaît." Before I knew it, there was an espresso right in front of me and not a single question asked. Someone actually understood me. Now I just have to work on becoming a regular at one of my neighborhood cafés and become a true Parisian.
On the topic of language, I had been stressing out about not being good enough and feeling inadequate all summer. Just ask anyone in my family. But the last two or three days has boosted my confidence and I'm not afraid to try anymore. I walk into stores and can ask for what I need. I ask for the bill and explain details to the waiter at restaurants with friends. Everything just gets easier when you're willing to put it out there even if it might be wrong. I went to the Eiffel Tower with some friends last night to drink wine and watch it sparkle, and I kept a conversation with some Polish man who spoke very good French. And I got the "French" price for my friend from one of the wandering salesmen in the Champs de Mars, who walk around selling champagne and cigarettes. I'm not as lost as I thought I would be. It feels good.
Before I end this terribly longgg post, I want to mention that France is so different. It's the little daily details that are always popping out at me when I least expect it. Mobile phones for example. I have a tiny little Nokia that looks like it's from the 90s, but what's funny is that here when your phone rings (calling someone else), it makes the sound our's do for a dropped call. I still keep muttering obscenities to myself every time I make a call before remembering that, no, that sound is good.
We went to the Musée du Louvre tonight and I think I'll post pictures in the morning. À bientôt!
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