noel a paris

Jourdain (where I live)

Levallois (where I work)

Champs Elysees (where I tried to go xmas shopping but was too crowded so I drank vin chaud instead)

paris by night

my soul mate

So I am a cold person. And no I do not mean I'm cold emotionally (in this case at least). I mean I get cold very very easily and I usually still shiver underneath a heavy coat on a cold winter's day.

Then about 2 years ago I happened upon a coat that changed all this. Unfortunately the very same coat elicited the initial reaction of "I bet it's really comfortable!" from people which is like the apparel equivalent of people saying of a single guy people want to set you up with as "he's really nice!". Doesn't speak much of the aesthetic appeal.

I remember when I bought this coat as well. I happened upon it at Banana Republic on the sale rack and noticed it had been marked down from 300 dollars to 40.

So what if it was a size medium and I was a was a size extra small? Who cared that it was a long puffy giant black coat that even fashion victims like myself know shouldn't be warn baggy?

As I eagerly tried it on, I felt like I had found a diamond in the rough. Unfortunately when I turned to gage the reaction of friend he looked at me like I resembled a giant piece of coal.

I bought it anyways (the Asian in me couldn't let the good deal go by). When I finally wore it to work a friend confided in me that I looked like I was wearing a sleeping bag.

She was right, but at this point I didn't care. For the first time in my life I could step outside in 5 degree wind chill factor and still feel toasty. It covered almost all of me had a giant hood which made it possible for me to walk long distances in the rain without an umbrella. Looking like the grim reaper late for an appointment when I did was just a bonus.

You know that feeling you have in a cold winter's day when you're under your thick comforter and you don't know why you have to get up from under that warm cozy goodness? Wearing the coat was like wearing a giant comforter. But with arms.

Alas after two years my shield against the elements started to literally break apart. Battered and warn I packed it away when I moved to Paris.

Recently during my walks from the metro to the office, I started to feel the cold crisp air of winter through my wool winter coat and started to think about my sleeping bag coat and considered the possibility of investing the money into get it repaired and dry cleaned. Then this past weekend I was browsing one of my favorite second hand stores in Paris when I saw it.

Almost the exact twin of my sleeping bag coat except it was from the Gap and had a duller fabric than the shiney synthetic of it's sister store BR. Otherwise it was the same. From the zipper to the buttons, same style, same color. Size medium. 30 euros.

Call me crazy but it's like my coat had died and reincarnated itself to find me again in that second hand store just when I started to really miss it. Second hand store, second chances. The message was clear.

It's a happy ending.

thanksgiving

So for Thanksgiving this year I offered to make a vietnamese soup (sup mang qua) thinking it would be easy. I emailed my sister for the receipe. She responded with everything except for the portions. Thinking perhaps she didn't know how many people I was cooking for I told her. To which she replied:

"Oh I don't know, I'm not good at portions. As much as you want I guess."

To make a long story short I was overzealous with the tapioca powder which lead to my soup having the consistency similar to that of tapioca pudding. I wish I was kidding but I am not.

Everyone ate it anyways exclaiming it was "super bon" (who says French people aren't nice?)

I didn't take any pictures of it as I am hoping with my bad memory I won't remember the incident when I look back at the pictures (it's no loss anyways a picture doesn't convey texture).

Main differences between an American Thanksgiving and an American Thanksgiving in France:



Apero (this lasted for almost as long as the meal did).



Fireplace (this is new to me and it took me ages to get an unfuzy pictures so I'm going to post it).



No turkey (the turkey farmer kind of thought we were nuts when we asked for a turkey so far in advance of Christmas) or cranberry sauce (that's cumberland sauce - tastes similar). No corn on the cob. Anywhere.



But we did have pumpkin pie.

(de)evolution of toilets

So I received an email from a friend of mine who is currently living in China. She found the toilet situation to be appalling.

I had to laugh at this. Why? Here below is the evolution of my reaction to abroad toilets over time.

Japan - Wow, a sit down! (after my introduction to swatter toilets)

Thailand - Wow, it flushes! (after peeing in holes that for all I know lead to an abyss [a very smelly gross abyss])

China - Wow, toilet paper! (actually I don't think I ever saw toilet paper but this would've been my reaction had I seen it)

Vietnam - Wow, soap! (My friend actually came out of the toilet and shoved his hand under my nose. After a couple of seconds I identified the smell as soap [We used hand sanatizer least you think us gross])

Cambodia - Wow, walls! (after peeing in an "outhouse" with the structural integrity of tin foil which I learned later drained into the river)

India - Wow, a toilet! (after I asked to go to the bathroom and the man lead me to an open field and expected, seriously, that I pee there. There were people in this field).

my gf

So when I first moved into my apartment my roommate seemed really nice and we got alone fine.

Then about a month in, she started to exhibit weird behavior like staying in her room with the door closed when I got home from work and not come out. What was she doing in there? When/where was she eating dinner? Did something bad happen? Was it something I did? I had no idea what was going on. This continued on for like a week.

Then one day I saw the floor was dirty so I swept it (this was not the first time I did this btw and to me a perfectly normal thing to do). The next day, to my surprise she was out and about and thanked me for sweeping the floor. Thinking her weird at this point I was cautious when dealing with her. I guess she didn't like my unresponsiveness and that's when it all came out.

Apparently I had not been putting in my fair share in the apartment (including the cooking) and she was angry with me. But instead of saying something like a normal adult she decided to stay in her room and wait to see if I would offer her dinner when I made my dinner. And when I didn't she got more and more angry.

I'm sorry. Call me insensitive or whatever but when someone goes into their room and closes the door I think to myself this person does not want to be disturbed; not "knock on my door and offer me dinner".

As all her grievances came out I slowly started to realize she expected me to read her mind and when I didn't she got more angry and more angry with me.

What finally saved me in the end was that I swept the floor of my own accord and she decided that I was willing to contribute and therefore decided to interact with me again.

Right. Basically she's like my oversensitive girlfriend that I can't break up with because of the sweet apartment situation she provides me. Breaking up with her would mean losing the apartment. I was determined to make it work.

So now, in order to keep her happy I have been super gung ho about things like keeping the floor clean. In fact this morning on my way out of the apartment to work I made sure to take out the trash.

Not only that I am actively trying to be sensitive to her needs. Before leaving London I made sure to get her the Gingerbread men she asked for. They remain uneaten on the kitchen counter and I stress about whether she likes them or not. (Are they the wrong brand? Is she upset they are actually Gingerbread snowmen and not Gingerbreadmen?)

Shit is stressful yo.

Otherwise things are going well. I'm happy to report she hasn't shut herself in her room latley. In fact this evening we were both together in the living room: me reading the Glamour magazine I nicked from my friend and London and her watching the France vs. Ireland football game and shouting French profanities.

...

Who's the girl now?

yorkshire (pronounced yorksher)