Day 6: August 20, 2013

This morning started off with a trip to the supermarket. All I needed was some fresh bread and a carton of juice, but I ended up with a new friend and good laugh! It went something like this..

My first stop was Franprix, where they carry my absolute favorite Tropicana Essentials juice. After being asked if I was Polynesian and paying for my groceries, I was out the door. My headphones were in and I was halfway to my destination when an oddly-dressed woman jumped into my peripheral vision. She was waving a hand at me, fully clad in gaudy, over-sized rings. Her mouth was moving but I couldn't hear the words over my Lil Wayne. I reluctantly pulled out my headphones to hear a slew of French words I didn't understand. As usual, I kindly explained "Je parle anglais," trying to get back to my jam session, but she obnoxiously interrupted again. "I SPEAK ENGLISH TOO!" It was 8:30am and I was not in the mood for a full-blown discussion, but there I was with no alternatives.

We continued walking toward the boulangerie where my fresh bread was waiting.

"So you're American?"

"Yes."

"You're from New York?"

"Yes." - Like I said, I was not in the mood to share my life story.

And she proceeded to tell me how it has been 20 years since she's visited New York.

It was about this time that I lost all attention to her story and directed it on her attire. Black and white checkered pants that flared at the bottom, definitely 70's style. Her t-shirt was a burnt orange color, peeking out from underneath a purple blazer that was made for someone a solid three sizes bigger. The gaudy jewelry didn't stop at her hands and I caught myself counting the layered necklaces that bejeweled her entire torso. But, ahhh, there it was - the glass jar in her right hand that she had obviously been pulling off of for quite some time. I had smelled the alcohol on her breath and there was the evidence.

Her story ended and it was back to interrogation.

"Why are you in Paris?"

"For school."

"Do you know why I'm in Paris?" - Was she being serious?

"No, actually, I don't know why," I answered, trying not to be coy.

"Well, I work for Swarovski. In Austria. That's where I'm from, you know Swarovski?"

Of course I know Swarovski, but she didn't give me time to answer. Instead she proceeded to describe the demanding sales quotas that Swarovski jewelers are expected to meet. And then, how she was entirely unable to meet their expectations, which eventually led to clinical depression.

"So I moved to France and checked myself into that mental hospital down the street."

I was flabberghasted. Why me?! I thought. All I wanted was a loaf of bread and at this point I would never make it to the boulangerie. It was time to take action.

I politely ended her monologue and took a turn down a random sidestreet. It was there that I stopped dead in my tracks in front of a giant Monoprix, completely heartbroken. You mean to say that I had trekked across the city in search of a bath towel, for three days straight, and all along there was one within a mile of my apartment. You have got to be kidding me. But seeing that it was my getaway option, I wandered inside. My disappointment grew as I saw twice the selection of bath towels I was offered the day before. In frustration I turned to the kitchenware, only to confirm my suspicions about there being several additional dish sets to choose from. Dammit.

I picked up a coffee maker and continued to browse before I heard an oddly familiar, "Yoooo-hoooo!" You have got to be kidding me. She was back, and thoroughly interested in what I was doing.

"Let me see that. Is that a coffee maker? Oh! That's a good one, good brand, nice size." 

She literally took it out of my hands and studied all the features on the box. Finally, I decided to shift my attitude towards her in a more positive direction and began making small talk about "how cool it is that you can pour water in a machine and have coffee in minutes." I wonder what she thinks of iPads.

When the conversation came to a lull about 17 minutes later, I bee-lined for the register and paid for the coffee maker. I glanced over my shoulder, slipped out the door, and took a rather complicated route back towards the boulangerie. I stared through the glass at all the freshly-baked options before deciding upon a baguette and a pizza. About to pay, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Those pizzas are really good." She said. And I was thoroughly relieved to have her approval of my lunch.

Finally I made it back to my apartment and I felt like doing some exploring. I had heard we had excellent student services at Cité Universitaire and I wanted to see for myself; what I found was more than I had expected! Tennis courts, a pool, gymnasium with sports equipment, dance studios. We have a library, tutoring rooms, art studios, conservatories - you name it! Unfortunately everything is still closed for summer so I wasn't able to take pictures, but come September I will share it with you! After thoroughly searching the building, certain that I had seen it all, I exited through the back door. I had NOT seen it all! There before me was a huge stretch of lawn where students were enjoying the warm weather. Drinking wine, throwing frisbees, playing guitar - there is even a stage for shows in the evening! This awesome hangout spot was right in my backyard and I had completely overlooked it. Well, you all know where to find me tomorrow. :)

After my curiosity satisfied, I returned to my room to eat the pizza. It was, in fact, absolutely delicious.

The rest of the afternoon I spent relaxing in my room, organizing my groceries, and showering before dinner with my friend Marion. Marion studied at Wichita State on exchange last semester and I had the pleasure of showing her around. Luckily, now I have her to do the same for me in Paris! We met up at the metro station in Place Carée and made our way to "Les Philosophes," a traditional, old, Parisian restaurant on Rue de Temple. Of course our waiter was a complete snob, but it didn't stop me from enjoying a crisp blonde beer and a cured ham sandwich.

 Eventually it grew late and we headed back to the RER. As I was anxious to try my fantastic new coffee machine, but was in dire need of a can opener I accompanied Marion back to her studio in hopes of finding an "ouvre-boîte". I knew her train station was near mine, so I was sure it wouldn't take too long. In fact, I didn't realize just how close it actually was! The further we walked the more familiar the area became; even in the dark I recognized the street names and store fronts. Marion was just pointing out her window when I hollered, "STOP! VENIR!" I was standing in awe, staring at the clock tower of my building! Of the million zillion apartments in Paris, hers was a quarter mile from mine, just on the other side of Parc Montsouris.

With no success on the can opener front, I decided to use scissors when I got back to my room. I had done this once before and stabbed clear through the cartilage in my hand, so no worries, I was extra careful. Soon I could smell my friends and family in Ste-Julie: Early morning stops with my host family before our road trips, mid-afternoon runs with Cami for ice capps, late-night coffees with David - Tim Horton's had become my addiction. I squeezed back tears and dumped a couple of scoops.... and my coffee maker works!

This evening ended with my two cups of coffee and a FaceTime call to my dear friend Cami, which is why I'm just now getting to this blog post. But, it was worth it. I love and miss her, so so much, thank goodness for the technology we have these days... Au revoir from the both of us!