My last post from Paris

After writing so many posts with my classic "My first..." it seems really strange to now be writing the only "My last..." one. 

As I stuff all my things into my 5 suitcases (Yes I am a guy, you can check if you like), all I can think is: Where has the time gone? 

It seems like just yesterday that I arrived bright-eyed and-- OK who am I kidding, after an 8-hour overnight coach journey I was about as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as roadkill... Nevertheless, the sentiment of little Essexmouse coming to the wonders of the big city remains.

The last half-year has been full of firsts (like busking on the metro) as well as some lasts (like busking on the metro).

We should leave it to the pros

I've had the good fortune to meet a lot of amazing people, visit some great places and to indulge in plenty of good food (mostly cooked by a certain Irish girl) and (probably too much) drink.

Like with this guy

From being serenaded in a restaurant where all the lyrics seemed to revolve around me being brown ("Bollywood nanana Bombay" etc) to getting stuck in a lift for an hour, I've had plenty of surreal moments - who can forget my infamous 'condoms in the bread' incident. And it's going to be hard to break the habit of automatically saying "pardon" whenever I bump into someone.

Can you believe in my 6 months here, I hadn't taken a single photo in front of the Eiffel Tower until 2 days ago?

Obligatory Eiffel Tower photo

Thanks for my farewell dinner, beautiful people

All in all, I guess you could say Paris has definitely left its mark on me. 

Thanks to everything and everyone who made the last six months the best of my life (so far) and thank you, dear reader, for following my adventures.

So for the last time folks,

Peace From Paris.

My first trip to a museum

Another (mis)adventure at the supermarché

It's always the person in front of you in a queue isn't it? I want to track down whoever Sod is and assassinate him for his stupid law.

Yesterday I was in the queue at my local FranPrix (the site of my other escapades, including the infamous "condoms in the bread" one). Just bought some ingredients for my dinner sandwiches and want to check out, when this drunk guy cuts in front and whacks a six-pack onto the counter. He then proceeds to fiddle with change and tries to pay for it with a 50 cent coin and a folded up bit of paper. 

Can you believe the cashier had the cheek to refuse his honest payment? The value of folded up bits of paper has really plummeted with the recent economic climate. A 5 minute argument ensued, all with suit-clad me standing there clutching a loaf of bread and some cheese. Surreal to say the least.

Obligatory gripe about the metro

I've found another sickening thing about the metro. It's full of couples. Happy, happy couples. Sickening, right?

Right on, Ted

On the plus side, it looks like French girls have fairly low standards, which can only be a good thing.

The Musée d'Orsay

Me and some friends met up on Saturday and we decided to hit the Musée d'Orsay. We got here pretty late so couldn't see much but managed to cover the main artists, Monet and Van Gogh etc.

My favourite bit of art? Probably this bench:

Let it never be said that I am an art heathen.

Peace from Paris.

My first run-in with the law

So I went for my first haircut in France last week - I thought the French were meant to be good with hair!? My hair currently looks like an angry, fluffy porcupine. I spend ages picking out a haircut I like, give it to the guy and what does he do but chuck it to one side. Hairdressers here seem to have their own "beautiful vision" of they want to do your hair. 

Taxi drivers and barbers are among the best therapists our society has to offer and I'm pretty sure the barber's chair and driver's back-seat have solved a lot of people's problems. However, my several attempts to strike up a conversation were met by a stony French wall of silence.  French people continue to welcome me with open arms.

A dead week at work

Boredom + middle-aged French women = you're gonna have a bad time.

August is a dead month in Paris, it might as well not exist. My colleagues, all middle-aged women tackle the boredom by singing/dancing to English chart songs. On Wednesday we had Call Me Maybe followed by Moves like 'Jigga' by 'Maroon Cinq'. Then they got so bored they started calling each other on the internal phones - hilarious. All the while I'm sitting there pretending to look busy willing the clock to tick faster.

Lunch that day was a blessing: 

Looks more like a post-lash meal than a Parisian lunch

The Dark Knight tries to sell me something

Also, went to see Dark Knight Rises twice last week - wow. After the Savoy's 50" screens and tinny sound system, Christian Bale's gravelly tones and Bane's barely comprehensible mumbling blew me away.

The waiting area at the cinema - nice

On the way back, one of the metro gates at the station was open so to save all of 0.5 seconds I go through. Some guy comes up to me, says something incomprehensible and flashes something fluorescent orange (not what you're thinking). 

Thinking he's trying to sell me something I give him a quick "non, merci" and try to get past. He shoves the orange thing at me again and it turns out he's a RATP officer; the metro gate was open on purpose to tempt innocent souls like me into waltzing through.

Coincidentally, my caucasian friend did the exact same thing but didn't get stopped by the dodgy-looking Arab guy. Racism (it's only racist when it's against me). Either way, that's got to be entrapment.

The metro redeems itself

I usually don't have anything nice to say about the metro but something that happened last week restored my faith in humanity just a tiny bit. It was a fairly busy time for the metro and there weren't any seats free. Before I could even offer mine, two typical Parisian rudeboys (complete with sagging trousers) gave up their seats for an elderly couple who had just got on the train. Goes to show - don't judge a book by its cover, but by its actions. (Well, books can't physically do much but you get what I mean).

I'm a big ol' softy really.

Peace from Paris.

My first paycheck

Went to pick up my bank card today, and in the process found out that my first paycheck had come in! Good thing too because the money I had since coming out here was on its last legs (i.e. had no legs left at all). Also I now have 4 bank accounts, check me out. Becoming a proper businessman - the suits, the bank accounts, all I need now is a cape and fangs.

Artist's representation of how much I earned

I've found out it's also much easier to spend money in a currency you're not familiar with. You sort of think "these sheets of paper and lumps of metal can buy me things?!" and not "holy crap, I have no money left to eat now". I'm slowly starting to appreciate the value of the Euro though, even if Greece and Spain may soon make that a pointless endeavour (ooh topical).

My new favourite word

Apologies to the supporteurs of "pardon" but I've made room in my coeur for another word. Are you ready? It's the humble, unassuming "d'accord". For non French-speakers, it means...er it means... well it can mean a huge variety of things, which is one of the main reasons I love it so much! Meanings vary from "alright" to "sounds good" to "yes, I'll do that 3000 word translation for you, you lazy...". 

It's the standard "smile, nod and hope it wasn't a question" but you have a word in your arsenal that makes this approche even more effective. And you thought it wasn't possible!

The only downfall of this approach is if it actually was a question and you didn't clock on. The French have a bad habit of not intoning the end of their sentences to make it a question. So quelquefois that leads to situations like:

Me: "So how was your weekend?"

Them: "Yeah pretty good actually, just lounged around. What did you do?"

Me: "Yeah, right."

Update - My experiment on the Paris metro

If you haven't read my earlier post (go read it right now), this experiment consisted of trying to bring cheer to the metro by looking as cheerful as possible when I'm on it. I can tell you that it's going pretty well so far. It gives you a surprising amount of courage knowing that you won't ever see any of the people on the train again. However, I have decided to lose the manic smile and have settled for a conservative half-smile instead.

For the miserable French though, I'm practically Santa Claus.

On a side-note:

"A single step can change your life"

Step Up 4 is called "Sexy Dance 4" in France. Make of that what you will.

Peace from Paris.

My first drinks in Paris

So I went out for the first time in Paris today. The term might conjure images of...well it might not conjure any images at all if a certain substance features heavily. Binge-drinking aside, the French (unfortunately or fortunately) seem to have a much more reserved and cultured idea of sortir. That being said, all I did was grab a few drinks at a bar so I might be being unfair to French night-life, we'll see.

Cheering up a cashier

So after having a few drinks with an old friend, I made my way home but not before stopping at the local supermarché to pick up some dinner. Perhaps it was the fact that I'd had a pretty good day or maybe the cocktails were catching up to me (more probable), but I was feeling rather buoyant as I strolled in so I thought I'd strike up a conversation with the miserable-looking cashier. She didn't seem impressed as I greeted her with 'Bonjour Monsieur' then proceeded to forget all my pre-constructed 'spontaneous' small talk. Time to retreat - some battles are best fought another time, and also in a language you know.

The pot de départ

Three of the five interns at the company are leaving this week so we had a little farewell party at the office today. 

Free food, drink and forced conversation

After a few short speeches, people started trickling out until it was pretty much the youngest five in the office left. When the adults are away, the interns will play; most of the two bottles of champagne was consumed by our generation today. Stereotypes are a wonderful thing. This was also the first time I'd properly socialised with the colleagues, and they're not so bad after all (despite the Frenchness). The French are people too, who knew?

Otto's leaving means I'll have more work to do but on the plus side, I get a sweet desk out of it. Like I said, life's a game of give and take.

Monsieur Badrinath can't take your call right now, he's busy posing for a photo

My Metro experiment

Yes, it's another paragraph on the metro. Not a critique today but just an experiment I'm going to try out. Since everyone on the metro looks like they're at a funeral (maybe one for personal space), I've decided I'm going to try and look as cheerful as I possibly can  when I'm on the train from now on. My own little rebellion against miserability.

The face that will bring cheer to the metro/get me arrested

A note on awkwardness

I thought I should quickly address the issue since our generation seems obsessed with the term. If you think you know awkward, think again. There's nothing worse than an awkward situation in another language. Not only can you barely make conversation but you can't pre-empt any awkwardness because you don't have the linguistic skill. This was painfully obvious at the leaving party; if you're me you just point out the closest thing you know the French word for. 

So in a lull in converation, I randomly blurted out "tomate".

Peace from Paris.

My first proper weekend in Paris

Completely forgot it was Bastille day ce weekend. The biggest holiday in the French calendrier and fwit, right over my head. That would explain the signs advertising "BASTILLE DAY" offers outside shops and restaurants. The main reason I didn't realise is because apparently the French don't get a day off when a public holiday falls on a weekend. Not so lazy after all.

Saturday

In other news my flatmate's phone was almost stolen at a metro station today!

Apparently he ran after the guy and after a few minutes the thrilling chase culminated with a rather anticlimactic "I found your phone on the floor mate". In French of course, not the aggressive Cockney brogue I translated it into in my head. No-one better pull that stuff with me or they'll face the full force of my poorly conjugated insults and tame French swear words.

Then that night, me and my flatmates got takeaway. It's Domino's so I was a bit cautious having been told it's nothing compared to its British contrepartie. One of them innocently suggests the 'Indienne' one for me - what a stereotype, unbelievably offensant. 


(...It does sound awesome though, so I go for it). 

Someone at Domino's is a stickler for French grammar

After we've polished off the pizza, the poker set comes out. It starts off fairly casual, but as the others are knocked out one by one, it ends up being an intense heads-up between me and a guy who's been playing in casinos for years. A few hands later, I'm surprised I'm up on him. Apparently I have an uncanny ability to unsettle opponents that throws 'em off their game. Something about unpredictability and playing hands fast and loose. Don't know if that's exactly something to be proud of but at the very least, I have a bright career in professional poker if the whole graduation thing doesn't work out!

Stop me, I'm a madman

Sunday

While making a sandwich for dinner (nothing wrong with that), I discovered bread lasts a lot longer here in Paris. A loaf I bought all the way back on my first day is still in date. Probably some unholy French process that's illegal elsewhere.

Went roaming for a bit to make up for missing Bastille Day but this city is a ghost town (/city) on Sundays. So I came back to watch TV (Suits is awesome). I've started assigning the characters to people in my office. This should make things interesting, especially as I have  Donna, the receptionist with an attitude, down (with the lady who answered the phone "Oui boii").


The year abroad dream will have to wait till next week but all in all, not a bad weekend.

Peace from Paris.

My first pizza in Paris

OK so the title isn't as catchy as the others but I had to complete the Holy Trinity of "My First..." posts, this is probably the last you'll hear of them (ha).

Day 3 of my working life

My third jour of life as an intern (pronounced: errand boy) and things are going pretty well. Apart from the fact I had to wait 20 minutes for someone to let me into the office, goddamn lazy French. But something me and Otto translated from English -> French yesterday was published by a bunch of media outlets today so that's pretty cool!

Being a working man, It's good not having to worry whether there's any work in the next day (and doing it the morning it's due if you're me), but you do have to sell your soul to the rat race. Ah well, life's a trade-off.

Life (n.): The art of substituting one set of problems for another.

Déjeuner

For lunch we went to a nice pizza place, which are apparently rare in Paris, just around the corner. I order a calzone and it looks delish but after some preliminary excavations, under the disapproving gaze of the old guy next to me, I found the meat to cheese ratio was disappointingly low. I'd put a photo of it here but it was devoured (by me, in case you're wondering) before I got the chance. So here's a picture of what I had yesterday.

Handily comes to  €8.30, my daily allowance exactly

After the massive lunch things began to go downhill as I started dozing off (as lions do after a meal). The emails began to pour in and by the end of the day I was burnt out good and proper.

But as soon as I put on some Coldplay on the way to the metro station, a nice calm settled over me, blocking out the bustle of the city.

...Promptly and resoundingly shattered by the Paris metro.

Let me give you a visual of what riding the Paris metro is like: think suit-wearing sardines in a rectanguloid can, accompanied occasionally by the odd sardine tramp. Doesn't help that the aforementioned sardines are starting to slowly melt in the heat.

I've also found out that the only French word you really need in Paris is "pardon". 

Bumped into someone? "Pardon"

Want to get through a crowd? "Pardon"

Need to have an in-depth discussion on the Higgs Boson? "Pardon" (+ hasty exit)

Navigating the way through your fellow travellers to the train door is almost as compliqué as the metro system itself

Now for dinner, a turkey sandwich. Yes I still can't cook.

Peace from Paris.

My first day at work

I just got home from work (7.45pm).


As expected, my year abroad is full of firsts. And today was my first day as a proper grown-up. I commuted, sat at a desk, got bored - the whole deal!

First off, I have to say I'd forgotten how good it is to wear a suit! You can walk around like you own the place and no-one seems to mind - comes with the territoire of being a young man looking dapper in a suit I guess.

Who's that handsome S.O.B?

My day started at 7.45 (and not 7 as I planned thanks to the damn snooze button) and I found myself running late for the metro at 8.52 avec a train in front of me. I jumped on not knowing if it was headed in the right direction; luckily that gamble worked out and meant I was only 12 minutes en retard.

Now when I say late, I mean by British standards. I end up being the second personne into the office, the French aren't doing much to bust the whole lazy stereotype so far... I'm directed to the sofa and wait patiently to hear my fate. A youngish looking guy walks past and I give him a hopeful "Bonjour". Turns out he's the current stagiaire from Nottingham - bingo!


Side-note: I've found a pretty useful way of introducing myself. "Pratheek - comme le mot" (Pratheek - like the word). The French pronounce me 'pratique', their word for practical. Not as cool as "Bond, James Bond" but cool enough. For now.


I get my own laptop and after running me through the daily routine (cheers Otto), my mentor for the day and I head off for lunch. A Subway's right around the corner and I'm on it like Sonic. I bet they wouldn't be as receptive to my banter as the guys at my local Notts branch (mainly because it'll be in broken and mispronounced French). Big up Travis, Nasser and the rest of the crew. Yes I'm on first name terms with them, got a problem? 

Looks like lunch from now till January is sorted

The view from the park we had lunch at

One of the highlights of the day has to be one of my colleagues answering the phone with "Oui boii". I think I'm gonna like it here.

Peace from Paris.

My first post from Paris

And that's it. I'm on my own in Paris and the adventure begins.

En fait, I should say the adventure continues because yesterday's hunt for accomodation was a mad dash across Paris to keep all our appointments. At least I'm well acquainted with the metro now, helped a few beggars and saw some interesting graffiti - "Too drunk to f**k!". Apparently not to spray-paint though.

The logement

The room I'm typing from isn't ideal but it's by far the best out of the ones we saw. C'est dommage that the bedroom in the indoor-swimming-pool house turned out to be just a converted conservatory. It was too hot for even a tropical man such as moi-meme.

Anyhow, I don't plan to spend much time in my room and am gonna use the hell out of my monthly metro pass to explore la Ville Lumière/D'Amour/De la Tour Eiffel (delete as appropriate).

The plan for tomorrow

So tomorrow I'm completely libre to roam around, practise my commute to work and find a bar/café in this damn city that's showing the Wimbledon final (allez Roger)!

For those of you heading out to Paris soon, depechez-vous! There's only so long I can stand French-only company and it would be good to know there's some familiar faces floating around this lovely city.

As the year abroad lady said "Don't say no to any opportunity". And I don't plan to.

Peace From Paris.