Alex is my friend with a confusing background. He grew up in France and speaks French fluently. He also speaks English fluently but with a British accent. This is because Alex is actually not of French decent (even though he looks really French). He’s mother is an American opera singer/music teacher and is father is a British antique piano maker who both live in France. He used his UK status to go to University in Scotland and now works for the Japanese embassy in Paris (he also speaks Japanese very well).
Confusing yeah? That’s why when people ask me where Alex is from I just say “He’s French” and hope they don’t hear him speak English with a British accent.
Anywho he had some embassy thing so I met up with him around 8 on Friday evening. We went back to his apartment to drop off my things. He still lives with his mom having just started working at the embassy 3 months ago.
The apartment gave me my first encounter with French elevators. They are tiny. This one was the size of a phone booth. Even when it was just Alex and I in it I felt squished. Later in the weekend when his mom insisted in all of us getting in there together (are you sure there’s room? Don’t be silly, of course!) it felt like we were playing “how many people can we cram into a phone booth”. I tried not to be so American in my concern for personal space.
When I commented to Alex about how small I felt the elevator was, he told me, with all seriousness, that this elevator was actually standard and proceeded to tell me about one elevator that was the width of his shoulders. I can’t imagine such a world.
The apartment, like the elevator is also small but has this amazing view of the city and the Eiffel Tower from kitchen window:
After admiring the view we went out for some drinks to chat and catch up. Didn’t make it a late night as Alex had to get up early the next day to get a iMac and apparently I was coming with him.
Woke up the next morning around 9am. Alex was still passed out so got up and wondered in the kitchen and ran into Alex’s mom. That’s when I got the low down on the apartment.
She told me that apartment is the luckiest thing that has ever happened to her and I’d have to be inclined to agree. The apartment is a government apartment with a waiting list of about 15 years. The only reason she got it was because one of her singing student’s father was in charge of handing out apartments at the time and they hooked her up. The apartment is nice. Two bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen with an amazing view and it’s in Paris and not a suburb. All for 400 euros a month.
Yeah. Landing that apartment is like winning real estate lotto. It was built in the 50s and nobody ever vacates the apartment unless they die of old age or die due to the dementia of old age (she told me a story of how her downstairs 80 year old alcoholic neighbor died by drinking perfume for the alcohol content).
As amusing as Alex’s mom is (and she is) I asked her if I could bother her for a towel to take a shower. She replied by saying “Oh, Alex didn’t tell you about the water situation did he?”
Apparently the hot water/cold water in the apartment is mutually exclusive. As in when you turn on the faucet you can only run hot water or cold water at a time. Interesting. This meant no shower but a bath is possible. As I tried to think whether or not I remembered how to taking a bath works, Alex woke up and told me we were leaving in 10 minutes.
After a boring 2 hrs at the French Best Buy, Alex got his iMac and then had to carry it back to his apartment (it weighs 17 kilos). He wanted to “take a look” but I know how guys are with new electronics so I vetoed that and we headed out to see the Eiffel Tower.
That’s when he told me about the curse. Apparently Alex has been to the Eiffel Tower something like 5 times and each and every time a different reason has prevented him from going to the 3rd floor (not enough money, the tower was closing, person he was with is afraid of heights). I told him not to fear, that today would be the day (aujourd’hui c’est le jour).
Everything looked fine until we got to the front of the line and I looked up and saw:
Clearly this was Alex’s fault and he was ruining my Eiffel Tower experience. Sensing my displeasure Alex spoke with the vendor and she informed him that it was closed due to overcrowding and that it might be possible to buy a ticket to the third floor later on the second floor. He wasn’t confident but I made him repeat after me: “Audjourd’hui c’est le jour.”
We got to second floor where the view was really nice. We could see Alex’s apartment from there (Alex actually looked through the telescope, found his kitchen window, called his mom, and could see her open and shut the window). Very cool.
Still I had curses to break and I noticed people were buying something at what looked like a ticket booth so I quickly made me way over there and returned to Alex with two tickets for the 3rd floor. Aujourd’hui c’est le jour.
Alex was still incredulous until we stepped into the elevator (which was still small considering the volume the ET gets) and started to ascend. It’s a long way up and the further we got, the more my knees started to shake and go weak. I mean I knew how high the 3rd floor was but to actually feel yourself (and see – the elevator is made of glass) go up that high is really freaky. The thought of only wires and cables preventing you from crashing down to your death, a tad bit frightening.
But let me tell you, it is totally worth it. The view from up there is breathtaking and you get to take in Paris in her entirety. All the people, the traffic, the landscape. From up there you can see Paris on a grand 360 degree scale. I can see why they have overcrowding problems. You could stay up there for a while just looking at everything. And it was a clear, beautiful day.
Alas Alex and I had other things to do so we descended and headed to a different part of Paris to meet up a couple of his high school friends for drinks and dinner. We went by ferry via the Seine River so I could catch some more of the sights.
I think the really cool thing about the weekend is seeing Alex in his element. Working in Japan he always told stories of Paris and of his life there and at the time, they were a distant anecdote. But now I could see firsthand the things he was talking about.
One of the things that always came up was his friend The Bear. I forget where the nickname comes from but the guy always came up in his stories and I finally got to meet him. He was nice, spoke English fairly well, and confessed to living in the prostitute district. I liked him immediately.
He also picked the authentic “French” restaurant (I think they just call them restaurants in France) at my request where I had delicious duck with a cherry sauce, the most delicious chocolate cake I’ve ever had the pleasure of having melt in my mouth, and several glasses of Bordeaux wine to wash it all down with (all for 26 euros). This was the reason why I came to France (it may also be the reason for my impending obesity).
By the time we finished with dinner it was almost midnight so everyone decided to go home. In departing The Bear gave me my first Baise (cheek to cheek kiss). Alex’s other friends followed suite and it made me feel happy and accepted.
The next morning I headed out early as to allow Alex precious alone time with his iMac. When I got home I decided laundry was well overdue so gathered up my things and headed to the laundry room. On my way there some guy came up to me and said:
“Give me your keys.”
I was confused? Was I being mugged? I just stared at him.
“Give me your keys, I will come right back with them. “
Uh, yeah right person I don’t know. More blank staring on my part.
“I need to get my bicycle out of the bicycle room. Give me your keys and I’ll be right back with them.”
Finally I managed to say, “Wait, who are you?”
He said some foreign name I couldn’t remember but told me he needed his bike to go to the mosque. I decided to go open the door for him. During the short walk he asked me if I was a master’s student. I said yes. He asked which program. I told him Business Information Systems.
He smiled, offered his hand and said “Me, too.”
Unwittingly I had my first encounter with someone in my program. Finally.
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