Paris in Real Time

As I said in my previous post, I was seriously considering quitting my blog...

I have to say, that I have had a very difficult time entering back into my day to day life, since I got back from Paris in Sept. To be honest, a lot of it has to do with the economy, and all the "stuff" going on in Washington. On the one hand, I need to stop watching the news, on the other, I feel like I have to know what's going on...

Not telling you which way I lean... it just seems like a big ole- mess, no matter which side of the aisle you are on.

I've been a little depressed, and I promised myself that my blog would never bring anyone down, so I've chosen to post very little since I returned. Then Post-Modern Jen sent me a blog award. I was so excited! It perked me up, and helped me decide to keep on for a while.

I have a million Parisian blogs up my sleeve... but some of them deal with minutia... (the small, precise, or trivial details of something). My husband says minutia is my favorite subject, and his worst nightmare. Ahhhh... the difference between men and women.

So anyway, here's the award. Thanks so much Post Modern Jen. I really needed this.

Jen called it a Heartfelt Award. I wanted to pass it on to some of my favorite blogs.

Simply Colette

A Tale of Two Cities

The Flying Bee

LuLu & Co

The Beautiful Life

Bonjour Madame

Faded Plains

So ladies, pass this award along to some of your favorite blogs, link them, and let them know they've received it by commenting to them.

To everyone else, please give these blogs a click... they are awesome, and they inspire me day by day.

Here's another little piece of "Paris in Real Time"...

minutia if you will...

Scott didn't actually roast that chicken... we bought it...LOL.

Also, we've eaten in our apartments a few times over the years, so I have no idea why I said that...but we had never gone to this much trouble, as in figuring out how the oven worked to heat up the chicken, setting a nice table, lighting a candle, etc. Usually it was just a sandwich or bread and cheese. This was a very nice dinner and a special evening.

Almost makes me cry... I miss it.

Au revoir,

Teri

What to do First?

So here we were, staring at each other, all alone in the apartment. My inner thoughts were so mixed. We were in the middle of Paris so to speak, and now I had no idea what to do first. For the first time since we left America, Scott took charge. He is forever organized and neat, so he began unpacking. It was the one thing he could do to have a feeling of normalcy and control.

I followed Scott’s lead, and began unpacking as well. There was a small dresser in one corner, so we filled that first. We looked around and found some small doors, about 3 ft. high, built into the hallway by the bathroom. These were the ‘closets’ so to speak. We hung our shirts and whatnot, and piled our shoes in the bottom. Now on to the bathroom. Although it was spacious, clean, and shiny, it wasn’t much on counter space. Just a pedestal sink and a tiny rolling glass table (?) about 12 inches square. So happy was I to find a hook on the door, as I had a hanging bag for my toiletries.

All this took about 15 minutes...now what?

Although my eyes were burning and I was beyond exhausted, I wanted to head out. According to the experts, you aren’t supposed to take a nap...you are supposed to jump into the time zone immediately. Scott just stared at me, and sprawled out on the bed. He said he needed a 20 minute power nap. He fell asleep in about 30 seconds.

I roamed around the apartment (which took about 15 seconds) checked out the tiny kitchen area, went out on the balcony, and contemplated the next 8 days. It was slightly overcast and cool. The thing that struck me most, was the peace and quiet. It seemed I was the only person in the entire building. So strange...

There was a laptop in the apartment, and I decided to send an email home, just to let family know we had arrived. This email was the beginning of something big. More on that later.

As Scott snored, (there went the peace and quiet), I finally decided to lie down a few minutes...Wow...the bed was incredible! I sank down into the mattress...heaven!

Three hours later, we woke up!

I jumped up from a sound sleep. I was so disoriented. Where was I? I shook Scott awake, and I was in a complete panic to get going. I felt precious time had been wasted.

It was about 2pm (14:00 on the bedside digital clock). We bundled up with jackets and scarves, a first for Scott, and a look he wasn’t too keen on. He is a man’s man after all. Always living in the south, and now in Florida, neither one of us had ever worn a scarf...ever. It felt like everyone would stare at us. We were so self-conscience. I was determined we would not look like tourists. I have to say, we looked pretty chic as we went down the elevator. Very unlike us!

We stepped out the front door, and onto the street. We literally didn’t know which way to turn, or where we planned to go. With guide book in hand, we decided to explore Montmatre, our neighborhood.

As I think back to that moment, I realize how green we were. At this point of the trip, we figured it would be like any other vacation, only further from home. We had no idea the transformation that was about to take place in our hearts, our relationship, our lives. It would take about 3 days for Paris to truly wrap her arms around us, and for us to embrace her back in the same way.

Once this happened...magic!

The Apartment

Someone Calling Our Name...

Now for a little background.  For no reason in particular, other than me being frugal, I thought renting an apartment, rather than a hotel room, would be the way to go.  Remember, I had heard horror stories about how expensive it was to eat in Paris.  I envisioned me cooking dinner for us in the evenings... 

NOT!

I hate to cook, so what in the world was I thinking?  Also, from my couch in Florida, I pictured it being easy to run to a grocery store, and stock our tiny kitchen.  That was a pipe dream.  The grocery stores in Paris...well...more on that later.

So, an apartment it would be.  I found this apartment rental company on the Internet, quite by accident.  It ended up being the greatest find of my life (besides Scott~).

So...there we stood, in front of the building with our bags.  I knew the code to get in the big entry door, and that was about it.  We also knew someone was supposed to meet us that morning, to show us the ropes.  

There she appeared, as if out of the mist.  It was incredible.  The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen, calling out our name as she came up the street. 

 

How did she know?  I guess we were the only lost looking people with suitcases.

Her name was Isis.  She was beautiful, sweet, and  spoke impeccable English.  We went into the apartment building, through the entry, up the tiny elevator to the 4th floor, and into the apartment.  

The maid was still there, cleaning up, so Isis directed us to the balcony, where we sat looking out at the church, eating the croissants she had brought for us.  She also brought us a bottle of wine, and flowers in a vase for our tiny dining table.  How sweet!  How French!

For the next 30 minutes or so, Isis took us through a huge, heavy, 5 inch thick notebook.  She was talking a mile a minute.  I was trying to listen, but by now, we had been up over 24 hours, and I found it hard to concentrate.  It was about 9am Paris time.  She went over the metro, the buses, the train, the museums, restaurants, the laptop and Internet, the kitchen appliances, the washer/dryer, the phone, everything you ever wanted to know about Paris and the apartment in 30 minutes flat.  It was completely overwhelming, but at least we had the “notebook” for future reference.  

Now, she was leaving out our door, after a lengthy orientation about the keys, the locks, and the importance of not leaving the key in the door (it was all very confusing and complicated, although the words, “If we have to take the door down, it will cost you $350,” got my attention).  She gave us her cell phone number, but in my heart, I knew I wouldn’t call her and bother her.  We would have to muddle through on our own...

and muddle we did...every step of the way.

So now...she was gone.  We closed the door, and just stared at each other in silence.  We were totally alone, in a huge building, full of Parisians, not tourists.  There would be no one to ask if we had a question.  No front desk.  No room service.  No concierge.  We’ve stayed in some really nice hotels over the years, where they practically tuck you in at night.

This was going to be so different.  No mints on the pillow.  No turn down service.

It was me and Scott against the world...a world where we didn’t speak the language, understand the rules, or even know how to order a meal.  This was going to be good...or bad...it could go either way.  That thought was certainly looming in the back of our mind as we stood there.  We were sort of shell shocked from all we had been through since we landed.  We were overloaded with information, but at least we were here, in our apartment.  It was clean, pretty, cozy, romantic, the whole deal.  

SO, can you guess what we did first??????