a picture is worth three words

So today I received an email from my sister. The gists of it is as follows:

Busy at work supporting go live.
Jasmine really likes pre-school.
I'm good (I enclosed a picture for you to show how good I'm feeling).
What's the status of H1N1 in France?
Can't wait for turkey.

If you're like me you will find the "picture of how I'm feeling" quite odd and immediately scroll down to check out the picture. And if you're like me you will be very surprised to see a sonogram.

Then, if you are like me, you would go back up and scan the 5 paragraph email for mention of a pregnancy and you will find nothing amist the talk of swine flu, preschool, and turkey.

But unlike me, who has had 29 years experience in dealing with the weirdness that is my sister, you won't realize that it's just like her to pull shit like this and what you have to do is calmly explain to her that normal people don't tell their sister that they are pregnant by attachment. Then you ask for confirmation.

So yeah, I'll be an aunt again. Ca c'est genial.

carte de sejour

So my residence card expired at the end of October which made me technically an illegal immigrant for the past 4 days. And least you think it was because I'm a slacker and didn't realize my card expired (come to think of it, this could easily have happened to me had CSC not asked about the expiration date of my card) I made an appointment with the prefecture as soon as I realized my situation. This was two months ago.

Having dealt with French beauracracies before I have amassed two rules of thumb:

1. They love official looking papers and copies of official looking papers.
2. Don't expect to get what you need on the first visit. By my estimation it takes you an average of three.

Since there is a two month waiting period to get an appointment at the prefecture, I couldn't let rule number 2 come to pass so I stocked up on number 1. Whatever official document I had I dug out and whatever I thought I might remotely need I went out and got or persuaded, bullied, or annoyed other people into getting for me. Then I made copies of everything.

Swimming in papers and wearing professional clothes as to not look like riff raft (nobody wants riff raft in their country) I headed to the prefecture.

The guy at the counter asked for official paper after official paper and with each request (bam!) I presented him with what he asked for. Then our rhythm was interuppted when he stated that he couldn't accept one of my papers because the date on it wasn't recent enough. I looked down at the paper he was referring to. It was my friend's electricity bill.

My mind flashed to the lunch I had with my friend when he handed it to me and I pointed out the date might be a problem. He reassured me that it was the only one he had because of the system he chose to pay his bill (they estimate what he would pay per month and he already pre-paid the estimated amount for the year - at the end of the year they would calculate the actually amount and either credit or debit his account the difference). Satisfied that since such a system exists in France the prefecture would be ok with the document I let it go.

And here I was, staring at the only problem preventing me from getting what I needed. I explained to the guy what my friend told me and he agreed that yes, such a system existed in France but unfortunately for me I had to get an attestation from the electric company instead. He told me where to go, and I thought for a brief moment perhaps it was close by? I pulled out my metro map and watched his fingers as he traced the line from where we were (southwest of paris) to where I needed to go (northeast of paris).

Him: Your friend can go with you?
Me: What today? No he works, like me.
Him: [doubious look] You can try.
Me: And if I can't get it today?
Him: You go on the internet and make another appointment and come back.
Me: But my card has already expired.
Him: Yes.
Me: It takes two months for an appointment.
Him: Yes.
Me:...
Him: [the "that's life" look]
Me: Merci. J'espere a toute.
Him: J'espere aussi.

40 minutes and 3 line changes later I found myself at the Electricity company feet cramping (damn those heels) and shoulders aching (damn those papers and copies of papers). I breathlessly begin telling the clerk what I had practice in french on the metro.

"J'ai essaye faire ma carte de sejour au jourd'hui et il n'accepte pas ca[shoves paper in his face]."

He immediately tells me he understands (I guess they must get alot of distraught foriengers coming into the office) and prints me what I need. I hop back on the metro and estimate I would arrive back at the prefecture at 3:30. One hour late for my appointment.

Ironically I actually had in my possession during this time an electrcity bill of the place I actually live (but can't use as my place of residence on my card for reasons I won't go into here) for the current month in my bag because I had to pay it.

But whatever I had what I needed but the question was, would they let me in? (I also wondered to myself if I could cry on command)

They did. I am illegal no more (No crying needed).

la toussaint

So today was All Saint's day in France and I thought it a good chance to visit the grave of Serge Gainsbourg the genuis behind this song.



Notice all the metro tickets which are a nodd to his earlier hit Le Poinçonneur des Lilas.

Despite the rain I also went to visit his house "tagged" by his adoring fans after his death.

kelly la violiniste

So the other day my co worker says to me "Kelly you play the violin!" I looked at him quizically. Smiling he shows me an email about the new intern with this accompanying picture:



My other talent? Practicing the violin? I hadn't touched the violin since the 7th grade. How did this happen?

My brain flashed back to almost 8 months ago in the office of the woman designated to help the foriegners find internships. There I was, having been in France for 3 months and tasked with creating a resume in French for the upcoming internship fair.

Her: Under hobbies you have under instruments 'Viola'. What's that?
Me: You know what Violin is?
Her: Yes
Me: Do you know what a Cello is?
Her: Yes.
Me: Well a Viola looks like a Violin but has the strings of a Cello.
Her: ...
Me: You've probably seen it but you didn't know you saw it because it looks like a Violin.
Her: ...
Me: It's not very popular.
Her: ...
Me: ...
Her: How about we put 'Violin'?
Me: [Just agree idiot don't you realize you have to write an entire resume in French?] D'accord.

Voila. Or should I say Viola.

i heart my new camera

nuit blanche

So this past Saturday was when Paris "does New York" and becomes the city that never sleeps. But of course they had to do it the French way and incorporate contemporary art into it.

Knowing full well that my relationship with contemporary art is at best tolerant, I decided to go anyways since I figured heck, I'm in Paris and should check it out, right? Plus the purpose of Nuit Blanche is to incorporate contemporary art into every day life and by extension to the masses (read: me).

We started by going to one exhibit where a large line was forming to get into an enigmatic boxlike structure. Filled with the desire to not miss out we immediately got in line. For what we had no idea, but it had to be good, right? Just look at the line!!

20 minutes later I found myself in a room listening to the voices of a couple arguing. No video just voices and other people sitting around listening to the voices which coming from each of the four walls randomly.

I was not impressed and neither were a lot of people if I judged the looks on people's faces correctly as they finally entered the room (first a look of "That's it?" Followed by hope that maybe there's more. And finally the disappointment that there wasn't).

Next we saw a video entitled "All the world's fighter planes" which consisted of newspaper clippings of fighter planes set to music.

Then we saw a video entitled "A Voyage in Dwelling" which the voyage consisted of a woman roaming the halls of what appeared to be a mental institution and decided to go down the stairs like the Grinch did in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" only I'm pretty sure it wasn't meant to be humorous. At the end she cried on the deck of a cruise liner.

Other exhibits included flashing lights in a swimming pool to mimic lightning and a in a ice skating rink with a orange glowing picture thingy. Both were not worth the walk to get there.

We were very close to leaving at this point. However I was stubborn in my faith in Paris that it MUST have something cool to offer in this Nuit Blanche of theirs so I insisted we check out something called the "Light Machine" (I like light) at Parc des Buttes Chaumont.

And I was not disappointed.

macaroons

So after one hour wait at Laduree I left with 6 mini macaroons. The math doesn't seem quite to add up.



They are good little buggers though. Next time I'll avoid going on a weekend.