When You Come Back To Paris?

I would hear from the french guy every few weeks or so when I first I got back. The conversations would usually start like this -

(Phone Rings)

Me: "Hello"

French Guy: "'Allo"

Me: "Sam?"

French Guy: "Creese?"

Me: "Sam, is that you?"

French Guy: "Yes, it is me."

French Guy: "When you come back to Paris?"


I think anyone who read the posts from the New Year's trip could infer that this was NOT going to be a long term relationship. Don't get me wrong - I'm glad I went back and really, he's not a bad guy. Very courteous, appreciates Billie Wilder's humor (we watched "Some Like It Hot" dubbed in French one night - he couldn't stop giggling), a good pool player, funny, and cute. He's going to make someone else a great partner one day.

The conversations were always friendly, if brief. I got some good advice from my brother after I came back - "Quit interviewing for the job if you don't want it." So I would always explain that I probably wouldn't be going back to Paris anytime soon. It's difficult to get that kind of time off from work, especially with a new job. And although I make a decent living I just can't be spending the kind of money it takes to vacation in Paris every year. I had suggested a couple of times that maybe he should meet a nice French girl. I thought maybe he had since I hadn't heard from him recently. But he called me again tonight. From jail.

Yes, jail. You see the french guy is not French. He is Algerian. And he's been in France illegally for years. He was drinking down by the Seine with a friend when they were stopped by the police. His friend has papers, he does not. So now he is sitting in the French equivalent of a deportation center waiting to find out if his cousin managed to find a lawyer for him. He may be on his way back to Algeria within a week.

I really couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Ah, the romance is gone

A picture of more snow today in Paris.

Ah, the romance is gone. Lately the french guy and I have been parting ways late morning and meeting up again in the early evening. Frankly, his idea of a great afternoon is cranking up the heat in the room to 80 degrees and watching TV in his underwear. Mine is...not. For one thing, none of the TV stations are in English. And I'm in Paris.

I'm having a hard time reading him. I get the impression his budget is tight right now, but he just bought a new iPhone and has money for scratch off lottery tickets. He is not comfortable with me contributing any money for meals if we go out to eat but it's OK if I buy cheese, fruit, or bread for dinner at a store. And he is definitely not a foodie. After the excellent couscous from my first visit and some conversations about snails and other food he's tried I though he might be. But, no. Besides lunch at Frunch, we've had dinner at McDonald's and a gyros stand.

It's been a different kind of trip than I anticipated. Not necessarily in a bad way, just different.

The Flea Market

Yesterday was a very cold trip to the Paris flea market. The flea market is in the same are where the french guy lives, on the outskirts of Montmartre. He was more than willing to advise me on which metro connections to make. He was not, however, interested in walking around all day in the cold looking at other people's castoffs. I, on the other hand, have been a secondhand junkie for years. I didn't want to miss this second opportunity to see one of the flea markets I've heard so much about.

The flea market turned out to be a group of smaller markets, each geared towards different merchandise. The first ones I came across were like a french version of Montana Charlies. Lots of stuff that looked like it might have fallen off the back of a truck. Not exactly what I was expecting. As you made your way further back you started to get to the good stuff - furniture, art, books, jewelry, vintage clothing.

I get why mid/high end designers might make the trip here. I saw some beautiful, beautiful pieces. But $10,000 for a chair and ottoman is a little out of my price range. And as you got further in, the price tags disappeared. I can't even imagine how much some of that stuff cost.

What was just as interesting as browsing through the goods was watching the dealers eat lunch. You would think that they were all at a four star restaurant. They would have a table set, with tablecloth, water and wine glasses, china, and a gourmet spread - more than one dealer. In one of the markets they had a table set for about ten people in the middle of the aisle. They were all sitting around eating and drinking and talking and laughing while customers scooted around them.

It is just a different way of life here.

The Pool Game Was Postponed

At about 8pm last night I got the french equivalent of "Put your shoes on. It's time to go".

We were supposed to meet up with another couple for a game of pool last night. When the french guy mentioned the other day that he plays, I thought it might be a fun thing to do in Paris. He called one of his friends whose girlfriend is in town and made plans for us to get together. This time I remembered to bring my French-English dictionary. The friend speaks very little English and the girlfriend doesn't speak any.

We found them waiting for us at a snack shop in St. Michel. The girlfriend was surprisingly easy to talk to - She is 27, a beautician who does nails and waxing, has been dating her boyfriend for 5 months (they met on the Internet), her dad is from Switzerland, her mom from Great Britain, she likes techno, can dance the salsa, and her favorite actor is Kevin Costner in Robin Hood. I was able to get all of that without the dictionary or a translator. Oh, and she's sick. After a drink and some sandwiches she was heading home with her boyfriend. So the pool game was postponed.

The picture is from the Conciergerie. I seem to be collecting pictures of Christmas trees.

Quick Update

Just a quick update until I can post more -

It took three tries but I was finally able to see Stainte Chapelle today. I ended up wandering around the Left Bank yesterday since I couldn't get into Sainte Chapelle (closed for security reasons).

Tonight the french guy and I are supposed to go play pool with a couple of his friends.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to make it to the Louvre. It's free this Sunday but given the 1+ hour line yesterday I'm not optimistic about my chances.

The picture is one of the many flocked Christmas trees I've seen around the city. For some reason the fact that it is pink makes it seem Frenchier to me.

The Hippo House Had No Hippos

We went to the zoo yesterday. It was very cold.

There weren't many places open New Year's Day in Paris. All of the museums were closed. The grocery stores and bakeries were closed. The restaurants around the hotel were closed - with one exception (more on that later). So the zoo was about the only game in town.

It wasn't a bad little zoo. They had yaks, tigers, monkeys, camels, crocodiles, snakes, birds ... and what looked like a hippo house (see picture above). The french guy was pretty excited when he saw it. By that time we had been walking around in the cold for a couple of hours and he was clearly reaching his limit (with the camera on his iPhone, with the cold, and probably with me for dragging him out into the cold). But the promise of some hippos seemed to revive him.

We made our way around to the entrance of the building only to find that the hippo house had no hippos. Apparently it's not a hippo house. It's just a big, round, building with some statues of hippos out back. The french guy circled the interior twice with a look of disbelief that soon turned to disgust. After consulting the zoo map he ushered me in the direction of the raccoons.

Opera Garnier

Yesterday I set the alarm clock. I was not going to be thwarted again from my quest to check off an item from my "Things to do if you ever go back to Paris" list. (Joe - I know it's killing you not to make a salty comment here).

I arrived at the Opera Garnier in plenty of time to make the 11:30am English guided tour. While waiting for the tour to begin I had a nice conversation with a couple from Israel. They are renting an apartment for a week, which I tried and failed to arrange for this trip. The wife said it is much nicer than a hotel (and cheaper, too). If only I had done a better job planning ahead.

The guided version of the tour was well worth the extra few dollars I paid. I did not know that this place was the origin for the Phantom of the Opera story. Or that Emperor Napoleon III commissioned the opera house because someone tried to assassinate him at the old one and he really didn't want to go back. The new one took 14 years to build and by the time it was completed he had been banished from France. Ah, the pros and cons of being Emperor. Pro - you get to commission a beautiful new opera house because you don't want to go to the old one. Con - you might never get to go inside because you've been overthrown.

They were decorating the Opera House for a special New year's Eve ballet performance. Tickets were still available for only 180 euros. I decided to pass.

The picture is from the auditorium ceiling painted by Marc Chagall.