Unusual Findings

On our house hunting mission we looked at 15 fully-furnished flats....and we saw a LOT of unusual things. I thought I'd share a few pics to make you smile.

The "Combo"
This delightful piece of modern machinery is refered to by all real estate professionals in France as "Le Combo." Looks like a washing machine, eh? But it does so much more...it washes...and then, it dries. Or so they claim. I am not entirely convinced. My hypothesis is that while it may wash and dry, it will likely do neither well.

1980s Shower
So, you live in the 16th District in Paris in a chic, traditional flat. You decide to remodel your bathroom. You decide on this? Really? Despite the fact that the rest of the place was truly idyllic, I couldn't shower here every morning. Deal breaker.

Wine, anyone?
We looked at fully furnished places which were to be fully stocked with dishes, flatware, etc. This place had one pot to boil water, three dinner plates, three salad plates, two bowls, two water glasses, and this.....

Grandma's Room
Yes, apparently adults slept here.  The bedding is some sort of Noah's Ark meets The Jungle Book. Tres chic. And I think the bed size is toddler bed x2.

Another "Combo"
I really don't understand how this one is even possible, but apparently it is - a microwave oven and a regular oven. All in one. Seems redundant, doesn't it?

Dorothy Simon Elementary School Drinking Fountain
Or world's tiniest bathroom sink. You decide.

Toilette
So, none of the bathrooms in the homes actually have toilets in them....the toilets are in a room all by themselves. And so well ventilated....

Je ne comprends pas.

Concerns

Ahh, yes, I will miss my friends, family, work peeps, house, pets, Kitchen Aid Mixer, gingerbread lattes, etc., etc., but what am I really the MOST worried about, you ask?  Is it acclimating to a new culture where I don’t speak the language?  No.  Navigating my way around the largest city in Europe?  No.  Being alone in a huge city with no safety net?  No.

Well, what could possibly be keeping me up at night?  Here goes.

My Eyebrows
I spent a significant portion of my youth with the ever-popular Brooke Shields eyebrow look (no judgment – it was the 70s) which, while enjoyable at the time, in retrospect was likely not the best look for me.  After that I went on the brow-roller coaster of overly-plucked, to overly-arched, to overly-Joan Crawford….and back again.  Finally, after years of trial and error I have achieved the perfect arch.  Lovely.  How?, you ask.  The fine art of threading.  What is threading?  Threading is an ancient art of hair removal which originated in India and, you guessed it, involves pulling the hair out with a thread.  Painful?  You betcha.  Worth every second?  Absolutely.

So, shortly after finding an appropriate school for my son SJ (age 9), I began googling “eyebrow threading in Paris.”  The next logical thing to locate, right?  Apparently, there is an Indian hair salon in the 5^th District that does threading for only 5 euros – bargain!  The Paris Dad did not find this to be an appropriate use of time during our house hunting visit.  Apparently opening an international bank account takes precedence over eyebrow threading.

For the record, The Paris Dad has never seen the Brooke Shields look.  I am guessing he would shift priorities if he had.  Now I need to figure out how to say, “I don’t want Pamela Anderson’s eyebrows” in French.

Netflix
I have been known, from time to time, to watch movies and television shows on Netflix.  I ditched the high cable bill years ago and have since become addicted to watching copious amounts of The Tudors, Mad Men, Animal Hoarders (you know you love seeing the woman with 96 cats, don’t lie), Everest, and practically every wonderfully trashy television show ever made –although I draw the line at The Real Housewives of ANYWHERE.  I come from a long line of insomniacs, so watching bad television is really a genetic predisposition.  It comes with the territory.

So, as I was Netflix-less last week in Paris, I decided to explore my television options.  (Aside: Netflix does not stream in Europe.  I tried.  Desperately.  No Hulu either.  Apparently there is something called a Slingbox that may work.  It sounds too much like a Billy Bob Thornton movie for me to investigate in my fragile state.)

Option One: French Television.
Well, you all know I can order off a menu seamlessly, but watching a television show proved to be a bit difficult (read: migraine inducing).  However, I found one of those painfully boring nature shows that I would never, ever watch in English without making crude jokes – you know the ones where everything is whispered veeeerrrrrryyy sllllooooowwwwlllly.  Well, turns out this is a great asset when you are learning a new language!  I was able to pick out words: wild dog – grass – horse – rain!  Well, that kept me entertained for about 6 minutes.  This isn’t bad and actually about 5 minutes and 45 seconds longer than I would have watched the English version.

Option Two: BBC News.
99 days until the Olympics. 2012 Summer Olympics. Frontrunners in the Olympics. Food available at the Olympics. How the Olympics affects Hackney. Debt caused by the Olympics. Crowds because of the Olympics. Tourism revenue associated with the Olympics. Medal projections for the Olympics. 98 days until the Olympics. Beverages to be sold at the Olympics. Olympic stadium construction. Athlete arrival at the Olympics. Was too much spent on the Olympics? 97 days until the Olympics.

Uh, no.

Option Three: Cartoon Network.
Yes, the same Cartoon Network with the same delightful shows that American parents have come to love (Johnny Test, Ben 10, Chowder, Clone Wars (gag), Pokemon, Tom and Jerry)!  I can watch this, right?  I see these shows all the time at home, and am actually somewhat fond of Chowder.  Hooray!  But, wait.  It is all dubbed in French.  Dang.  Although watching General Grievous speak French is totally worth the price of admission.

Guess I’d better download another book on the Nook.

Mexican Food
Europe has not yet learned or discovered the joys of Mexican food.  Now I know I will be in Paris and surrounded by all sorts of delightful and delicious cuisine from all over Europe.  But sometimes I just gotta have some guacamole.  Now my homemade guacamole is pretty good, but it is never served with fresh, crispy tortilla chips fresh out of the deep fryer and a margarita the size of my head.  And this does not exist in France. Prior to departure, I did eat a rather obscene amount of guacamole at Rick Bayless' Frontera Express at O'Hare Airport (all comments regarding my profound disappointment of Rick opening a fast food joint at an airport will be reserved for a later date) and The Paris Dad almost lost a finger when he tried to hone in on my chips.

So, as you go out in the US and enjoy your Mexican food….think of me and have another margarita in my honor. And another basket of chips. With guac.

Gracias.


And for you Rick Bayless fans, my BFF (who, for the purposes of maintaining anonymity in this blog since soon the whole world will be following, will be refered to as Annette Benning -- as in American President Annette Benning) and I came shoulder to shoulder close with Rick Bayless once as I was getting cash out of an ATM. Annette just kept whispering, "It's him, it's him." And we giggled like schoolgirls. Yeah, that day rocked. 　

　

　

First Impressions

Parisians Are Actually Nice
Having heard time and again the horror stories of rude Parisians, I went into this with rather low expectations. I didn’t want to appear the insensitive, non-French speaking American that I am, so I prioritized my French studies and was fairly confident that I could:

1.       Order off a menu.

2.       Ask for directions to the “salle de bains” (bathroom).

3.       Navigate my way around on the Metro and get a taxi.

Food. Bathroom. Transportation. I was set, right? All went swimmingly until we traipsed upon a lovely corner bistro for lunch. Adorable outside café seating; French music in the background; the obligatory dog laying inside…; geraniums o-plenty; it was perfect. We went in, asked for a table for ‘duex’, and were immediately welcomed. Our server appeared and was ready to take our order. We asked for menus, but this bistro did not have menus – just chalkboards outside with the specials! Recognizing that we were fairly clueless, she quickly went outside, grabbed the chalkboard and brought it in for us. She pointed to each item and we could pretty much figure out what it was (FYI – for future Parisian travelers, steer clear of the ‘viande de cheval’). She was lovely and gracious, as were all Parisians we encountered. And the lunch rocked as well.

 The French Paradox or “Eat as much bread as you want, people here don’t get fat”
Our real estate agent (we will call her K) met us our first day at our hotel. K is quite possibly the nicest person I have ever met, over six feet tall, blond, slim and the epitome of chic-Parisian. I immediately felt troll-like. After viewing what seemed like a million flats in the morning we went for a fabulous lunch. Yes, the undercurrent here will always be food. Anyway, I had a delicious mushroom salad and K kept pushing the bread (which is ubiquitous in France) and frites (which are addictive). She said, “eat as much bread and frites as you want, people here don’t’ get fat.” Really? This cannot be true.

After my weeklong observation (a carefully conducted study one might say…or not), I noticed one thing. I did not see ONE French person that was even remotely overweight. At all. Anyone we saw that was overweight was clearly not French (as evidenced by a. being overweight; b. donning a North Face jacket; and c. speaking English). So how is this possible for the cuisine that is heavily laden with cream, butter, and accompanied by wine? I hope to answer that one day. My initial theory after one week (again, a carefully conducted study) is that in one week I did not eat one shred of processed food. Everything is freshly prepared. More to come on French Paradox.  Oh, and no one exercises. At all.

Black
For those of you who have known me for many years, know that while bits of color do occasionally punctuate my wardrobe, my basics have always been, and will always be black. Well, let’s just say this will do well in Paris. Parisians wear black. And lots of it. Women are pretty much head to toe dressed in black. Black shoes, black tights, black pants, black skirts, black jackets, black sweaters, black gloves, black hats. With the muted color scarf. The scarf is the accessory to every outfit. I did see one woman in charcoal grey. Clearly that was a bold move. So, I am guessing the sorbet colored Capri pants I want from J Crew will not blend well here. . .

Au revior for now….