Battle of the Arches

Having multiple interviews on your first week in a new city is a great way to start figuring out the lay of the land. I’ve always been somewhat of a human compass, but big, sprawling cities always throw me off (L.A., I’m looking at you). The urban layout here is certainly not the perfect, Cartesian lattice of Manhattan or San Francisco’s two grids bisected by a diagonal. Paris obeys no rules of symmetry whatsoever – streets curve, twist around roundabouts never to be seen again, drop off after a block or go on for miles only to change names, and several street names are recycled among the designations of rues, chemins, avenues, boulevards, allées, places, and so on. But the city’s layout does follow a geometric logic. The arrondisements, or zones (for lack of a better term), spiral clockwise from the city center, around and around from 1 to 20. About 36 or so points on this haphazard “clock” mark the loci of the ancient gates to the city, when walls once stood high to protect the populace. Outlying villages surround the arrondisements and are almost considered extensions of the city themselves; they’re mostly accessible by Metro (although some could take an hour to reach, depending on your starting point). And outside this circle, the bannlieu (suburbs) crop up. It’s not easy navigating this town, but I’ve got the chronological-spiral logic down, have the perfect city map practically attached at the hip, and I’ll be damned if I’m not a full-fledged Metro pro within my first month.

I journeyed to one of the outlying villages today, La Dèfense, for an interview. It feels funny to call it a village when it’s really a megaplex of modern architecture and commerce. One comes to Paris eager to soak up remaining vestiges of the Renaissance, the Revolution, the Rococo, Art Nouveau, Art Deco, the list goes on…not the hull of the Starship Enterprise. But if sleek skyscrapers and a gynormous shopping ring your bell, take Metro Ligne 1 all the way to its western endpoint and you will find yourself in standing in the midst of a modern Mecca – as well as smack in the middle of the Arches.

Behold in the distance one of the most famous landmarks in all of Paris. Then turn 180 degrees and you’re nearly in the shadow of Le Grand Arche, a towering mass that could eat 5 Arc de Triomphes for lunch, with room for dessert. Why did they build this? Did they feel the need to outdo Triomphe? I mean, it’s the Arch of Triumph, people! Anyhow, it seems Le Grande Arche is more than just an “art meets technology meets might” type of statement – it’s also a venue for public events, such as today’s kiddie wonderland of Moonbounce, jungle gym, and ball pit. Howweird. When I got over the shock of being in such a hypermodern, surreal setting, I actually started digging it. I had some fun with my camera.

And just for fun, I’m throwing in a picture of yet another one of today’s random discoveries. I like to call it, “Which one of these doesn’t belong?”

Daft Punk Is Playing in My Firestation

Looks like one of 'em got hisself a day job.

Today my travels also took me to the BCBG (bon chic, bon genre) neighborhood of St-Germain. I was struck by the age of the Eglise St-Germain, a beautiful church built in the 6th century and still standing...right next to a Dior store.

Olfactory Onslaught

I’m a veteran rider of the NYC subway, so I’m used to the intoxicating bouquet of urine, BO, trash, and that certain “je ne sais quoi” that makes it ever so joyful to spend time waiting on the platform. But this morning, an odor so surprising wafted through the Metro, I thought I must be dreaming – first of all, it didn’t make me want to dry heave, and secondly, it actually smelled delicious! Whoever decided to open a boulangerie underground was a genius. Mmm, just the smell of croissants made me giddy…And then, in my periphery, I saw it: a small yet steaming pile of dog shit, right there for anyone to step in on their way to the exit. Thankfully I didn’t, but the juxtaposition of sensations was comical, one that in retrospect somewhat serves as a metaphor for the day I’ve had. We can score today’s experiences on a scale of croissants (woohoo) to dog poop (blech).

Not having the carte de sejour, like, 5 days ago has been a barrier to progress. Without it, I cannot legally work in France, open my own bank account, get my own cell phone…I probably can’t even buy cheese (but given the French’s penchant for skirting the law, there’s probably a loophole I can exploit). The process takes a while, as we were required to register our US marriage with the French government (a document that took over a month to arrive this summer), I had to get a visa (done in SF), and then finally on the Paris side, I need proof of lodging before Nate and I can go to the police station and I can (hopefully instantly) get the CDS. This should be cleared up within a week’s time, but until then, croissants 0, dog poop 1.

Let me reiterate my utter adoration of the Metro. It’s SO easy to use and super fast. In SF, I often waited 15-20 minutes for a train; sometimes in Queens close to 10. Never more than 3 minutes here, and I’ve been on more than half of the 14 Metro lines so far. [Not to mention that when certain commuters are in danger of missing a train, they run like their lives depend on it – rather than wait the (gasp!) 3 minutes max. for the next one.] I had 3 interviews today, all in widely different parts of Paris, and it was a cakewalk getting everywhere. Croissants 1, dog poop 0.

My first two interviews were extremely successful. One was at a language school targeted to businesses (I knew those 5 years in the corporate world would come in extra handy), while the other was at a language school that caters to individual learners. Both schools would be delighted to employ me as soon as I get that pesky carte de sejour. Croissants 0.8, dog poop 0.2.


After these two victories, I was feeling pretty darn good. I had time to kill until interview #3, so I walked along the Seine for a while, admiring the views of Notre Dame in the distance and a bit closer by, a veritable tent city of squatters (see photo).
So there I am, minding my own business, when I pass a large dumpster, and out of nowhere, a huge plank of wood comes flying out of it and forcefully lands on my big toe. Turns out an urban worker carelessly tossed the wood out of the dumpster, oblivious to any possible pedestrian traffic. A passerby, observing the entire incident, could not contain her disgust at the culprit’s deed. She started bellowing at the worker as I’m staring in dismay at my toe, which is now gushing blood onto my cute open-toed shoe as well as the sidewalk. Thank goodness I had tissues and band-aids on me; after a little riverside first-aid I was almost good as new, a slight limp notwithstanding. I was more aggravated that this happened en route to an interview than anything else. Croissants 0, dog poop 1.

Anyhow, the third interview was at an elite bilingual private school. The headmistress also wants to hire me, but cannot do so until I have my CDS. The other hitch is that classes begin next Wednesday, a tad too soon considering I’d have to ramp up on the school’s policies, set up a classroom, and start planning curriculum for (count ‘em) 7 preps, meaning 7 different courses. That’s more than double the amount of preps I taught last year. My teaching schedule would be a bit lighter, as the English department doesn’t teach on Mondays and I wouldn’t be teaching for the entire day Tuesday through Friday. However, the pay is less than at the other jobs I was offered, and I’d be working doggedly just to keep my head above water. I’m leaving this one to fate, because if I don’t get the CDS in time, I’ll spare myself an agonizingly huge workload at this particular job. Baked goods 0.5, feces 0.5.

This evening Nate’s very sweet family friends invited us out to dinner. We were set to meet at their apartment building in the 7th, literally around the corner from the Eiffel Tower. I hadn’t planned to visit the landmark so soon, but there it was, in all its glory. After taking the requisite photo and briefly lounging on the Champs de Mars, we met up with the Levy-Rueffs and enjoyed a lovely dinner at a restaurant in the Bois de Boulogne. Once again, it was wonderful to connect with people who are looking out for us. Croissants…Am I still keeping score?


More interviews to follow this week and next. I’m definitely waiting until the round is done to weigh my options, but it’s reassuring to know that I’m in demand. All I need is for the CDS angels to smile on me and grant me this one piece of paper that holds the key to my life in Paris.

The Little Things

Yes, it’s the little things you discover when adjusting to life in a new city – not to mention a new country – that can both annoy and amuse you. A few things I have learned over the past couple days that fit into either category:
- If I thought a lot of shops were closed on Sunday, it seems Monday is even worse. One of the major market chains is closed on Mondays, as are tons of local boulangeries, small businesses, and so on. Some of these are possibly closed due to August vacation, but after conferring with the concierge of our hotel, it seems Monday is generally a day of rest. Annoying when you need to buy a couple key household items.
- However, tons of cafes and restaurants are open. I saw more people out for a leisurely lunch just in the half-mile radius I walked than I’ve seen lined up for Zazie every Sunday for a month (that’s a lot).
- Apparently (and we won’t be affected since we’re not buying a TV) the French pay an annual tax for having a television. What? In all fairness, this revenue funds national TV programming (some of which I hear is quite good)…but I find it hilarious nonetheless.
- People love to cut corners here. Nate tells me putting one over on The Man is a national obsession. And while I haven’t yet experienced the full of extent of this, I did see quite a few people jump the turnstiles in the Metro. I’ve seen lots of teenagers do this on previous visits to Paris, but never an elderly man in a suit or a family of four like I did the other day. The best part is, the cops rarely check for your metro tickets. They just make it so easy to cheat.
- I was wishing there were some corners I could cut this morning upon learning we had come to the wrong location for obtaining my carte de sejour. I had not only consulted a very reliable guidebook for expats living in Paris, but also 2 or 3 web sites – none of which referred me to the correct place. Sure, I could’ve called the phone number on Friday between dumping off our luggage at the hotel, getting an apartment, and opening a bank account – I had plenty of down time. We also discovered the agency wouldn’t accept the document I was using as proof of lodging, but I’ll have a copy of a lease contract soon, so that will help tremendously. Oh well. I was warned this would be one of the more frustrating aspects of assimilating…Better luck with it next week.

Le Premier Weekend

The past couple days have been a mix of exploring, dealing, jetlag, and relaxing. Our adventures have reminded us that it’s soooooooooo much more convenient having a cell phone (duh), having helpful local friends is miraculous (more later), and arriving the last week of August is both a blessing (super calm and quiet, as many Parisians are still gone on ‘les vacances’) and a curse (so many businesses are closed).

Yesterday we met up with Arnaud, the cousin of our good friend DMD and a friend of ours for many years. Arnaud lives outside the city in the town Antony, so we went on a little jaunt to the ‘burbs. Antony – all two and a half blocks of it – is cute. [Although I think everything here is cute. I could be looking at the dumpiest street in Paris and still think it’s charming.] The best part of our rendezvous was connecting with a familiar face, which cannot be emphasized enough. It meant so much to be hosted for lunch and enjoy a friendly afternoon. Plus we learned TONS of info that one could only get from a local. Arnaud gave us the scoop on everything from washing machines to grocery shopping, from news channels to Internet speed, you name it. He even gave us a cell phone. We’re so indebted.


We had a slow morning, which, we discovered to our detriment, severely limited our ability to find food. Many boulangeries and charcutries close at noon on Sundays, plus it’s August, so our chances of putting together a romantic picnic (which sounded amazing when we thought of it last night) were slim. I went out on my own in search of picnic food and wound up finding a farmer’s market (fruits and veggies only).


It was bustling with locals young and old, and boasted some pretty gorgeous looking produce. It was there that I either committed my first faux pas or was just plain stupid. One stall had peaches for sale at a certain price for 2.5 kilos. The vendor started filling up a bag for me, but I said, “Non, je choisi” (which in retrospect may have offended him, who knows). He wasn’t happy when I only selected two peaches, and he proceeded to charge me an amount I couldn’t quite distinguish. After I got my change back, I realized I’d probably been ripped off, but I didn’t have the vocabulary or energy to argue about it. Lesson learned. On another outing today, Nate and I discovered an amazing boulangerie (open on Sunday afternoons, no less) in the opposite direction I’d taken earlier. SCORE. And I now remember what a baguette is supposed to taste like.

This afternoon we walked up a storm and discovered some lovely outdoor spots. On Nicole’s recommendation, we checked out the nearby Viaduc Des Arts. This ancient viaduct (leftover from Roman Empire) has a top level on which the city has planted gardens and a paved walkway. Lovely for a Sunday stroll.

Then we crossed the Seine to the 5th, where we ambled up Rue Mouffetard (a pedestrian-only cobbled street lined with shops, cafes, etc) and soaked up some natural beauty in the Jardin des Plantes (is there any other kind??). The latter reminded me a bit of certain parts of Central Park. It’s also the home of the Museum of Natural History, so the munchkins were out in droves. It’s notable that there are many interracial couples in Paris, so you can imagine how beautiful the children are.


It’ll be a quiet Sunday evening for us, as we embark on a busy week. I have to get my carte de sejour (equivalent of a green card) tomorrow, which will probably eat up my entire morning. Nate starts work and I have six (possibly seven) interviews. We’re already looking forward to notre vacance dans Provence le weekend prochain.

A Very Good Welcome

We’ve had a whirlwind day… jetlagged and disoriented, but stealing moments of wide-eyed wonder and amazement that we now call this city home. And although we’ve only been here for a few hours, here are some choice things we’ve thus far experienced:

1. The oh so endearingly nonsensical inefficiencies of the French. Par example, we reached the customs area in Charles de Gaulle Airport only to find a huge line for French citizens (of course) and an almost non-existent line for “Others.” We took the obvious choice, only to find that after walking through the maze of the roped-off “Others” line, it merged right into the French citizens line. So we essentially cut almost the entire line of Frenchies and were thus forced into the stereotypical role of pushy Americans right off the bat.
2. The local love of political discussions. Our cab driver wasted no time getting right into it with us. We went from droll small-talk about weather into abortion and gay marriage. Nice.
3. The Metro just rocks.
4. After wandering aimlessly around the Marais, then stumbling on Place des Vosges and its surrounding adorable side streets, I can say I’m officially in love with that part of Paris.
5. I understand a great deal of what I hear (to my delight), but my speech skills are still severely lacking. Thank god for Nate – he really made things happen today. The 40 minutes we spent opening a bank account were already touch-and-go (the jetlag hit me hard and I’m lucky I got out of there without drooling on myself), so I’m extremely grateful he was able to deal!
6. Last but not least, WE GOT AN APARTMENT TODAY! Someone or something obviously wants to make our transition super smooth, because this apartment was the first and only place we looked at. It’s in the same building our dear DMD and Stella lived in when they were in Paris (thanks so much for hooking us up with the landlord!). Ideal location, in the Marais (3rd arrondisement), spacious, light, hard-wood floors, a block away from the Metro and within blocks of great nightlife, shopping, and Musee Picasso. We deliberated and after trolling the Internet all summer to suss out the rental market, we’re convinced we’ve found a true gem.

So that is all for now. Come back and check in from time to time. I’m committed to updating the blog fairly regularly; there will be photos, too. And feel free to post comments any time.