Post on my new blog

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My new year abroad blog

Hi everyone,

If you enjoyed Peace from Paris, please follow my new blog

http://inspaininlamembrane.blogspot.com.es/

live from Zaragoza in Spain.

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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 blogpost in a while

They told me it would happen.  but I didn't listen. They told me to make a conscious effort on the blogosphere or it would cast me aside like so much out-of-date brioche (my breakfast-lunch-dinner today incidentally). 

So here I am, with two months worth of things to write about and no idea where to begin. I think I'll just start in the middle (that's always a good place to start right?)

Time of my life

No kidding, these last couple mois have probably been the best of my vie, and let me tell you I'm not one prone to exaggeration. Literally the BEST of my life guyz, like seriously. (OK maybe I exaggerate a bit.)

It included my first music festival, first live sports event, first alcoholic beverage and first French film (only kiddin' on that third one). I know what you're thinking though, how had I never done those things before?!

Me and my plastic cup full of er...water.

The highlight of Rock En Seine (the music festival) had to be my little adventure getting in. 

Having decided that paying 7 euros for a drink was a bit ridicule, I decided to smuggle in a bottle of (probably bootlegged) substance from my local corner shop, Now I've had my fair share of brushes with the law but the patdown at the entrance to the festival felt like it lasted 5 minutes. On second thought I have been working out, so maybe the guy just wanted to see what a real man feels like. I don't know, I'm not a psychic. 

Either way, it turned out to be a good idea hiding the bottle in a rather private place (say no more). Getting it out was a rather delicate matter. Plunging my hand into ny shorts in front of the queue at the hot dog stand was interesting to say the least.

Oh, and I guess Green Day weren't bad either.

The British Invasion

Since my last blog-post Paris has been invaded, nay, infested by British people. Yes British students, with our adorable tea-consuming, tourist-y, binge drinking  habits. Bringing British culture to France, five shots at a time.

Goddamn tourists eh...

The only problem with this is that I seem to be spending about 84% of my time speaking in English, even though I spend about 76% of my life at the (very French) office. Don't question the maths, just go with it.

I've decided just going to have to make a concerted effort to meet French people. Although sometimes with my limited vocabulary I tend to panic, leading to situations like below:

Intern 1: So did you guys get up to much over the weekend?

Intern 2: Yeah I went back to Brussels to visit my parents and dog, it was pretty fun

Me (having done lots, but not knowing how to put it into French on a Monday morning): Yeah so speaking of weekends, how do you both feel about Hollande's presidency compared to Sarkozy's?

Interns 1+2: ....

Well that's it for today folks, I'm back on the blogosphere now though so keep your eyes peeled for another post in the next few days/weeks/months. (Delete as appropriate) 

Look sharp.

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 sortie out of Paris

Vienna is awesome.

So last weekend was my cousin's engagement. Chance has it that her family decided to settle in the cultural capital of Europe, very considerate of them. Looked like my first intra-Europe was on the cards.

RER < Metro

This involved me dashing off from work insanely early (translation for normal people: half 4) and taking the RER out to Charles De Gaulle all the way in Zone 5, which is incidentally not covered by my metro pass. Like the wild child I am, I got on the train anyway. Take that The Man, I stuck it to you good. After all, life is for living.

Metro - please accept my sincerest apologies for anything bad I may have ever said about you. The RER is Paris' overground train service that extends far out of the metro's reach. It's the metro's bigger, uglier older brother (much like mine). Compared to it, the metro is a positively spiritual experience (if you can get over the all-pervading smell of urine).

The impressive CDG Aeroport

I started off my trip at Charles De Gaulle Terminal 1, where (after bearing the crushing disappointment of almost being upgraded to business), I was really impressed.

Imagine serenely gliding along this walkalator with classical music playing

Nothing of note to mention on the flights apart from an American family who were seated all around the plane because they hadn't booked tickets. One of their 7(ish) old daughters happened to be sitting next to me looking very unhappy. I offered to switch seats so she could be closer to her parents, at which point the Dad asked me to switch with him so he could sit next to her.

My heart pretty much melted when she grabbed onto me and insisted that "no, he can stayy!". 

You can call me Monsieur Charming.

The Engagement Party

So after much stressing about and a looong make-up session, the ladies emerged from their lair all looking lovely and we headed off to the hotel.

I was told at pretty short notice that I was gonna be Master of Ceremonies and had a couple of speeches to make, Exactly the way I like it - spontaneity is the spice of life. It's exhilarating having 160ish people hooked on your every mot and having no idée what you're saying. One thing I should have done was to introduce myself. The guests were probably wondering who the snappily-dressed, eloquent young man en stage was.

This half of the audience was paying attention at least - they were my favourite half

The party itself was IMMENSE. The DJ began the fiesta with some bhangra and I kickstarted the dancing throwing some crazy shapes. Helped that every single one of the guests was so cool. A big shout-out to all the awesome people I met =D (my first and probably last emoticon on here - that's how much I loved you guys).

I had so much fun that I'm feeling sad to be back in Paris. I know, crazy right!?

So, all in all, taking a day off and breaking 18 months of continuous work by the interns before me was, oh, about 2505% worth it?

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.