Instant hot water and cold showers

The French have a lot of brilliant ideas. For example, my apartment has instant hot water. The kitchen and bathroom are on opposite sides of the wall so it doesn't take too much time for the hot water to get from the heater to the sink or shower. Instant hot water is very "green" because it means that you haven't heated up a 30 gallon tank that's not being used. It's very eco-friendly.

The shower - it's about 20 inches by 24 inches. Except that there is a faucet, a shower-caddy and a shower curtain, so the functional area is maybe 15 inches by 18 inches. Admittedly, I'm not a large person, but (actually that would be "butt") each time I turn around I burn my ass on the super-heated metal faucet. It seems there is no warm water, just HOT or NOT. The water comes out steaming and so I have to turn it off part way through the shower. After lathering up, I turn it back on, but you guessed it - it's COLD. So, each day I take a hot-cold-hot-cold shower. Now, "pardon my French" (to use an old expression) but it's a freaking pain-in-the-ass.

Last night, I finally sent an email to my landlord suggesting that there may be a problem with the thermostat, and the fact that the lights over the dining table do not work. It took thirty minutes to write the email in French. And THAT is how I spent my summer vacation.

[Okay, this post needs a better finish. How about "Trust me, I'll do a post later on all of the hot "derrieres" in Paris." Yeah, that sounds better. In the meantime, here's a bunch of asses (les derrieres des policiers Parisien) from the student protest. As Paris Hilton would say... "hot."]

Where is Shih?

Where in the world is she? Christina Shih just happened to be passing through Paris with her beau Tom. For all of those who work at Kaiser and know Christina, you know that she is constantly looking for somewhere interesting to visit and somewhere good to eat. And fortunately, last weekend she was in Paris staying with her friends Dan and Kathleen at Place des Voges - ooh la la. (It's very puut puut as the French would say.) Christina, being the San Francisco "foodie" decided on Le Dome du Marais for dinner. It was a brilliant choice.

All of the food was quite tasty and the "cochon noir" (black pig) was spectacular. Three courses plus a few extras, a little wine, and an after dinner digestif that burned my insides made me feel like a pig myself. The service was quite good (though I think there are no child labor laws as the boy serving us some courses and the alcohol wasn't old enough to drink, at least in the U.S.) and it was great fun to pass three and a half hours (in France people spend the entire night eating dinner and talking) with Christina, Tom and Dan. Of course, we had to walk around after dinner to avoid entering a food-coma and passing out on the streets of Paris. I am truly grateful to Christina for treating me to a wonderful dinner and an memorable evening at a great Parisian restaurant. Merci beaucoup!

It just goes to show... you never know who you will run into in Paris. Personally, I recommend Christina : )


Thanks to Melinda for sending me a one sentence email this morning... "You haven't updated your blog." It got me off my butt. Apparently, I can leave Kaiser, but it (that would be Melinda) will continue to hunt me down and haunt me .

And now, my mother has arrived, so we'll be doing the touristy things. More posts coming soon!

The French swim like the Italians drive

Yesterday, I made my way to the pool. Considering that I have been eating pastries and bread practically every day, it is strange to think that my pants are actually a bit looser. That being said, I still need to exercise, stretch-out and relax and go for a nice swim. Oh wait. I'm in Paris. For anyone who has ever been to Rome, you know how they drive - the road markings are only a general guide. Well, apparently, French swimmers have taken a lesson from the Italians.

The large 50 -meter pool at Les Halles is closed. "Quel dommage." So, I went to the little 4-lane pool in my quartier (neighborhood) about 6 blocks away. I've got to give the City of Paris credit for being clever and egalitarian. Upon entering the locker rooom, you choose your own locker and then enter the number and select a code from a central kiosk -no padlock required. Very cool. And egalitarian - because there is no men's or no women's locker room. Just one big locker area with changing rooms and communal showers.

One lane of the pool appears to be reserved for wild young people and people who don't know how to swim but like to splash around in the water. The second lane - not sure what they were doing there - swimming or slowly floating down the lane, I suppose. The third and fourth lanes were for "regular" swimmers but anyone can get ito any lane regardless of how fast they THINK they are. And since the pool is only about two feet deep at one end (try doing a flip turn - ouch) you can basically stop and walk anywhere in the lane - and people do. One lane had 13 people in it. No rhyme or reason to speed or stroke - just pass up the middle when you need to, but keep your head up becasue someone else may be coming your way. Fun fun fun.

Back to the egalitarian thing... I'm used to stripping down and taking a shower after swimming. Being the clever guy that I am (and watching others - so being the voyeur that I am,) I figured out how to wash "those" parts with my swimsuit on as the two elderly women next to me put on their swim caps and headed for the pool. I'm sure they were heading for the fast lane!

Springtime Manifestation a Paris

Spring time in Paris? Not exactly. It has been quite cold of recent, but the sun was out and I decided to go for a walk. I thought I would head towards Place de la Republique and then over to Pere Lahaise Cemetery to pay my respects to Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde. At Place de la Republique there was no traffic – rather it was being re-directed by les policiers. Not just a few police officers, but dozens. Something was going on and my curiosity got the better of me.

So, I headed down Rue Voltaire, following a crowd of people coming out of the metro station. Yes, it was obvious that this was some sort of “manifestation” or demonstration. I crossed the street and passed the police officers. I had no backpack so they let me pass, only to see a very large crowd ahead. Hundreds, and then thousands. Soon, I heard music and chanting and saw lots of young people in the streets and on the sidewalks. All of the shops were closed with only a few heads poking out of the doorways. The number of police – there must have been 8-10 on each corner on each side of the street and larger numbers at the public squares. I’m guessing there were several hundred police working this “special” event – so you can imagine the number of protestors.

Click on photos for a closer view

Nicolas Sarkozy is about as popular in France, especially with young people, as George W. is in the Bay Area. According to the flyer I received from a young lady, a member of the MJS – Mouvement des Jeunes Socialistes (Do we have any socialists left in the US? Or are we all consumed with capitalism?) the government has cut 11,000 teaching positions and wants to reduce some student benefits. In the U.S. we just accept what comes our way. The Supreme Court decides 5-4 that George W. Bush is president. Okay. A war in Iraq and a war in Afghanistan that is costing us hundreds of billions of dollars and forcing the price of gasoline higher and higher. Maybe I’ll consider a hybrid. But in France, people come out to protest. Place de la Republique always has police officers stationed on the streets because THIS is where people come on a regular basis to demonstrate.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, I continued down Rue Voltaire amongst thousands of angry and excitable students. What the hell am I thinking getting into the middle of this madness? Oh, wait – Pourquoi pas? Why not? – my motto for this adventure. I was a foreigner in many ways. I am not French, I do not speak the language, I am much older than the average person and not one to casually join a protest. I was not “en colere” (angry) ,but here I was in the middle of the crowd, taking photos like a tourist and getting an adrenaline rush as the crowd would suddenly start running in my direction as the police moved in. In Spain, they run with the bulls. In Paris, I was running with the students.

My small bladder was getting the better of me – or perhaps it was the tear gas that made me sneeze and caused other people to cough and spit. As my first manifestation was coming to an end, I spoke with a guy (final photo, the one with the earphones, not the two covering their noses and trying to breathe) who inquired if I was an (undercover) police officer because I was taking photos. “Non, je suis tourist.” Then, he told me that in France “il n y’a pas les droites des hommes.” People have no rights he said – oh, and be careful or someone will try to steal your camera. What a sweet and polite young French protestor. Although he may not have had any rights, he at least was able to listen to his own music on his iPod while protesting. I love this city.

Time to head out - if I could get out, the police had blocked every intersection. Fortunately, after back-tracking several blocks, the street sweepers were coming, the shops were re-opening and life was returning to normal with people sitting at sidewalk cafes and drinking their coffee. Ah Paris in spring time.

From the corner and from my window

Yes, if I walk to the corner and look down the street, this is what I see. Look familiar? Hunchback not included.

A view from my window. Sterotypical, but nice.

Je suis arrive

It is a beautiful sunny morning in Paris. A good day to start my blog

Though I have not set foot into a museum during the past week, I have been to the store three times to buy food, water, toilet paper and of course, to just look at all of the different products available. The produce market on Rue Montorgueil smells wonderful and the displays of produce, fish, seafood (yech) and other animal parts is very entertaining. (There is a French expression which I can only translate as “you can eat everything” of an animal. And in France, they do!) Yesterday, I found Leroy Merlin quite by accident – it is basically an underground Home Depot and it took an hour to walk though this cavernous store. As for the boulangeries – it’s practically a daily pilgrimage, but I am blessed as there is a very good one across the street that has wonderful bread.

“Living” in Paris for five months sets a different tone. While at Home Depot France (Leroy Merlin,) I was searching for curtains. The apartment is very bright when the sun streams in during the morning. Knowing that I will have a few guests, it seems like a good idea to cover the windows so they don’t wake up at 6:00. The apartment is great! It is very quiet which is unusual in Paris and means that I won’t need ear plugs at night. You can check out the link on the sidebar to see the apartment. I arrived at the apartment about an hour earlier than I had anticipated only to wait for the owner’s husband to show up one hour and 40 minutes later on a very chilly day of 40 degrees. I learned about turning the gas on and off, turning the water on and off, how to use the oven and the radio controlled thermostat for the heat. There is a special toilet paper that must be used and even a special paper that can be used in the oven. Husband could not figure out the washing machine, the telephone and cable. So, being a good Italian man, he called his wife who came to the apartment. She is the one I coordinated with before arriving, so it was nice to meet both. Overall, I am very happy with the apartment and will be quite content here for five months.

A pastry every day? Pourquoi pas? Why not? I like this expression “pourquoi pas?” as it is very symbolic of my decision to quit my job and pursue this grand adventure. The French are much more precise in their language, very concerned with high quality and yet they have a more casual attitude about life. I was raised in the United States and heavily influenced by the Protestant work ethic and the belief that life is about struggling and overcoming challenges – presumably to prove that one deserves to go to heaven. Now I find that I am more attracted to the French way of life. Why not enjoy life here and now? Pourquoi pas? I have come to believe that we can experience heaven (or hell) every day and that there is no need to die to participate. Yes, this is simply my way of saying that this blog is a good start and that I am off to have another pastry and to enjoy another day in heaven.