A few months ago, we took the plunge and bought a car. The whole experience was conducted in French, so we really were lucky that at the end of the day we got what we ordered: a blue Honda Fit (here, it's called the Honda Jazz). We bought it from a dealership called "JapAuto", which is apparently not at all derogatory in these parts, but would be greatly frowned upon in the US. Even though we bought the car in May, we were not able to drive the car home until July - seriously. The French bureaucracy thrives in moments like these, made even more complicated by the fact that we have to have the car registered with diplomatic plates through work. But at long last... we are mobile again! This is not to say that the whole process has been easy as pie. For example: The paperwork to apply for diplomatic plates required a gaggle of forms (in French, of course), several of which needed 6 individually signed copies, each. The whole system of car insurance here is waaaay different than in the States. Insurance rates are calculated by the number of years you have been driving, taking into consideration how long you have driven sans accident. But... if you are uninsured for over 3 years (which we almost were even though we had periodic coverage with rental cars), your coverage jumps back to as if you were a new driver! Should this happen, you will easily pay twice the monthly rate. Signing up for insurance took a 1.5 hour phone call, and a whole lotta patience on both sides. Next up: where shall we park the car? They drive and park like maniacs in Paris (see below, for example), so we weren't about to park the new car on the street, just for it to be mangled within the month. But parking fees for a garage spot are astronomical in central Paris - especially in the 7th where we live. Michael had a moment of brilliance when he thought to search AirBnB for rentals in our neighborhood that came with parking. He contacted a few of them to see if they'd be willing to lease us their spot in exchange for a steady monthly income. It worked! We now have a parking spot a few blocks from our house that doesn't break the bank. When we finally received the number for our diplomatic plates from the French Interior Ministry, we had to purchase and order them online. I mistakenly ordered 1 plate (instead of the required 2), as it never crossed my mind that they would sell them to us in anything but a set. Shout out to Michael who called this one in advance. A single, lonely plate arrived in the mail several days later. After ordering a second license plate, we were faced with the dilemma of replacing them with the temporary plates that came with the car. The main problem we identified here was that there were no holes in the plates themselves, so we had no idea how to affix the plates to the car. Each plate came with 3 small metal nail-looking things that we could only presume needed to be hammered through the metal plates into ... something ... on the bumper? So off we went yesterday with the plates, nail-looking thingies, hammer, swiss army knife, and only a small glimmer of hope. The situation was not looking good when we were approached by the building caretaker, who saw that we were clearly not on the right track. In our best French, we explained the situation, and when it became obvious we were going to royally mess things up, he volunteered his services - "c'est facile!" - he said. Thank GOD he came along when he did. Turns out, the nail-looking thingies were rivets, and it took a power drill to remove the old plates and make the holes in our bumper larger, and a rivet gun to put the damn things onto the car. Guess our swiss army knife wouldn't have done the trick ;) Although random acts of kindness may be few and far in between in cities like Paris, they do come around every once in a while, and remind you that there are generous people left in this world.
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After our adult adventure to the Moulin Rouge on Saturday, the four of us (Michael, Suzanne, Shelly and me) headed to the happiest place on earth, Disneyland! Michael and I have season passes, but haven't actually had much time to go this year, so we were only too thrilled to be able to go to Disneyland with our two lovely house guests! Check out our adventure below (ps - the blue skies were short lived! Thanks, Paris)... Although Moulin Rouge is still one of my favorite movies (don't judge), and I've now lived in Paris for 2.5 years, I had never had the chance to see a show at the famous cabaret. But that changed this weekend when Michael's Mom and Aunt Shelly came to town, and decided it was high time that we paid a visit to the birthplace of the can-can, and fill the cultural void we had all been living with for far too long. The Moulin Rouge was first opened in 1889 by Charles Zidler and Joseph Oller at the foot of Montmartre, and became the famous haunt of artists like Toulouse-Lautrec. For those of you who know your Parisian history, you'll recall that this was the same year of the Exposition Universelle that showcased the newly-minted Eiffel Tower. Apparently the can-can was originally a seductive dance performed by the courtesans who worked from the Moulin Rouge, presumably to gin up business and show off the goodies. When you go to a show at the Moulin Rouge today, you can either get a dinner+show combination ticket, or just opt to see the show (and order your own champagne, of course!). Tickets are quite pricy for the dinner+show, so I would not hesitate to recommend the entertainment-only option, which is what we did and had a blast.
The performance itself is a show called "Féerie", featuring 80 performers (both men and women, which surprised me) who dance and shake their way through 2 hours of nonstop entertainment. The ensemble dances - often tastefully topless, just so you're forewarned - are accentuated with a number of side show performances, several of which physically made us gasp in awe they were so incredible. Once you step into the theater, you really are transported back to the belle epoque. Everything is covered in red velvet, as would be expected, with soft lighting that effortlessly evokes a nostalgic, romantic mood. And the feathers and costumes! Truly amazing. Sure, the Moulin Rouge could be considered a bit touristy. But it's also a really fun night out in Paris. I have had the extreme fortune to spend the past two weeks in French language immersion at the Institut de Francais, located in the beautiful town of Villefranche-Sur-Mer on the French Riviera. Not only is the location of the school ridiculous... ...but the teaching is truly excellent. I only wish I could stay for a full 4-week program, which is what most of the students will do here in August. I have learned SO much in the past two weeks, but I feel like I'm really just getting into the swing of things. Most of the weekday is spent in the classroom, with instruction 5 days a week, 8 hours per day. I thought I was going to be overwhelmed and exhausted from trying to process so much French, but the hard part was not actually being immersed in the language (listening and understanding), it was the speaking part and trying to get the grammar right that took so much effort. I was mentally - and surprisingly physically - exhausted at the end of most days, but have had two great weekends to relax and enjoy the gorgeous surroundings. Michael even got to come down the first weekend to tool around a bit :) Unfortunately, I have to get back to Paris for work on Tuesday. But fortunately, I live in France, so the opportunities to implement and continue developing what I've learned are really all around me. I'm thinking about joining a French book club, and really challenging myself to hold more conversations in French, even if it's not perfect and takes me a while sometimes to conjugate verbs :)
Many more photos from the trip can be found in the album here. |
AuthorBecause why not get married and move to Paris to really kick off your thirties? Archives
December 2016
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