Bicycles!

You may or may not know that Maggie and I love bicycles. They're fun to ride, they're cheaper than most other forms of transportation, they're good for the environment, and they're good for our health. So it was with great pleasure that I saw a sign advertising a Critical Mass event a few weeks ago: http://22septembre.org/. (The message on the website reads, "Coincidence! We all just happen to meet while riding our bikes around the Arc de Triomphe on September 22nd, formerly "car-free day." Unannounced cyclist objective: insert yourself into and ride around the rotary without blocking traffic. If a traffic jam should occur, extricate yourself and leave.")

Last Tuesday, I went with Robert (he may have left Paris, but he hasn't left my heart) to the Arc de Triomphe to witness what can only be described as a flash-mob of cyclists. At 6:30 pm, at the height of l'heure de point (rush hour), hundreds of cyclists materialized in the rotary that surrounds the Arc de Triomphe and clumped together as they rode around and around, forcing automobile drivers to cede space and pay attention. It was glorious.

So Long, Farewell...

Panda will sorely miss Robert, who departed today after a two-week visit. (We'll miss him too, but you can see that Panda grew especially attached to him.)

Before he left, Robert treated Maggie and me to a delicious lunch at Bistrot Paul Bert, in the 11th. We enjoyed such delectable dishes as tuna tartar, porc pâté with salad and cèpe mushrooms, veal puff pastry with mushrooms and cream sauce (entrées), lamb shoulder with vegetables, cassoulet bréton with andouille sausage, white beans, and other sausage/ham, filet St. Pierre (fish) in a cream sauce (plats), fondant au chocolat (moist cake) in a basil crème anglaise, île flottant with crushed almond pralines, and roasted figs with honey and vanilla ice cream (dessert). So unbelievably rich. So, so good.

Thanks, Robert, for a lunch that captured the essence of your entire visit!

(Other than this brief nap, Robert slept on our brand new, double air mattress. Just in case you were worried.)

Fête des Jardins

A festival every weekend! That's our impression of Paris so far. This past Saturday and Sunday (Sept. 26-27) the city celebrated its many parks and gardens with the Fêtes des Jardins. Because Maggie wasn't feeling well and because we had a lot to do at home we didn't stray very far from Belleville, but we still got to enjoy the Fête. Saturday afternoon, I brought Panda to the Parc de Buttes Chaumont for her afternoon constitutional and got to hear a "Joystick Orchestra" "warm up." As part of the festivities, an interactive electronic music group called Puce Muse had set up an array of 24 Play Station 3 controllers, all of which were connected to computers and big-screen monitors, and all of which could be used to make electronic music. Pretty nifty.

Sunday afternoon, Maggie and I took Panda back to the Parc de Buttes Chaumon and went on a hunt for festivities. All we found was a different Puce Muse set-up in the same spot, but we also traveled across a foot bridge that had been closed for a while, which Panda did not like one bit:

Poor P-Face! After subjecting her to this injustice, we dropped her off at home and hit up the Parc de Belleville. Technically, this park is closer than the Parc de Buttes Chaumont, but we've never been inside because dogs aren't allowed! It turns out the park is beautiful - loads of flowers, a "Maison de l'Air" (basically a museum for children about air), lots of terracing, greenspace, bamboo (???), you get the idea. And for the Fête des Jardins, they installed something special in the most beautiful section of the park:

Sorry for the terrible video quality - I'm out of practice. To recap, the Fête des Jardins was great, we love hitting up free events on weekends, and we wish we could have brought Panda to the Parc de Belleville. The end.

Journées Européenes du Patrimoine

I know it's normal for a blog to hype current or future events, but I'm having a hard time staying ahead of the curve, so you'll have to be satisfied with finding out about things you should have gone to after the fact. For example, last weekend you would have been granted access to various buildings, free of charge, in an event called "European Days of Cultural Heritage" (loose translation). I first heard about the event through Invisible Paris, but even if I hadn't known about it we couldn't have avoided the masses of people waiting in line just across the street from the David Lynch window displays last Sunday afternoon.

Or the line wrapping all around the Opéra Garnier, or the band taking advantage of the captive audience to promote themselves:

Instead of waiting at the Opéra for hours, we hopped into a much shorter line in front of a much less famous site: the headquarters of Société Générale, a French bank. We had no idea how awesome it would be.

The glass ceiling you see towards the beginning of the sideshow is 50 square meters (huge!) and is protected by another glass ceiling above it, which also helps to keep the heat in. The building was one of the first in France (or maybe the world?) to be constructed with reinforced concrete. There are five basements, the first four of which contain safe-deposit boxes, all secured by the massive double safe you see in the slideshow. The fifth basement produces heat which rises up through the rest of the building through grates in the floors of each level - another innovation in its time. These trivia items and more did we learn on the 30-minute tour we took through an officially-certified historic monument we never would have known to visit, if not for the Journées Européenes de Patrimoine!

Nap time

Naptime
Originally uploaded by kaiserstein

Panda's favorite time of day is anytime the sun streams in through our apartment windows. Today, that time happened to correspond with laundry time. Luckily we had an extra sheet handy to keep our bed clean while she lounged the day away.

Guardienne

Call me a small-town kid in the big city for the first time, but I'm really excited about having someone to accept packages for me during the day when I'm not around. I found this in front of our door Friday morning:

"A package awaits you at the guardienne's lodge. Please come by to retrieve it. Thanks, La Guardienne."

Actually, this system feels more like college than real-life. Mostly, I'm just glad I don't have to go to some UPS store (or even the post office) after I miss a package three times.

Week in Review

It's been tough to post the last few days because we're just so gosh-darn busy. Here's a sampling of this week's fun:

- Louis went to the library every day like the good little grad student dissertation researcher he is;

- Monday night, Louis and Robert got falafel in the Marais (but not at L'As du Falafel, like everyone recommends, because there was an equally good place a few doors down for a few euros less);

- Maggie babysat every day but Thursday, worked on grad school applications, and studied for the GRE;

- Louis, Maggie, and Robert went to see Inglourious Basterds Thursday night at MK2 Quai de Seine, which (as you see below) is on the Canal d'Ourcq and which looks glorious at night (IB: the parts in French had no subtitles; the parts in German and English had French subtitles; Robert was not amused);

- The neighbors called twice to let us know that Panda was crying (Monday night and Thursday night). Looks like we need to up her medication again . . .

- Friday, Maggie came down with a cold, and is still feeling under the weather. Get well soon, Maggie-face!

- Tomorrow: pre-Yom Kippur dinner, featuring chicken soup with matzoh balls (made with real matzoh, since we can't find Manischewitz Matzoh Meal here), brisket-style basse côte (lower rib marinated and slow-cooked in a secret sauce), salad, wine, and chocolate cake. Yum!!

The Lurrrrrvre

As I've mentioned before, various museums have special deals if you go at certain times. Last night, Robert and I took advantage of one such deal - and got into the Louvre for free! (This was possible because we're under 26; for everyone else, the price of admission is a paltry 6 euros, so it's a deal either way.)

Below, you can see what we saw. I admit that I took more pictures of the building than of the art, but that's because the Louvre doesn't have very much good art. (...)

One of our Favorite Things

When we were making plans to move here, we imagined ourselves sitting in a different café every afternoon, reading and drinking espresso. 

That's one of the reasons we decided not to bring our cold coffee press (the other reason being that we knew there would be an Italian-style, stovetop coffee maker in the apartment already). But we also knew that buying coffee every day gets expensive very quickly. So when I stumbled across a coffee shop in the Marais during my ill-fated trip to the Archives Nationales, I was happy to invest in a bag of Central American blend. (Cafés are on every corner, but shops where you can buy beans are rare, as far as I can tell.)

What I didn't expect was that I would also invest in our first souvenir of the trip. When I asked the proprietor how long the fresh-ground coffee would stay fresh, he said that if we kept it in the fridge in a normal coffee container, it'd keep long enough. Fridge? Coffee container? I was intrigued. And so for only a nominal sum, I ensured that we could make ourselves coffee every afternoon for two weeks with this set-up:

Container, and "Café Amazone" Coffee

Coffee + Italian Coffee Maker = Hooray!!!

David Lynch at Galeries Lafayette

Sunday afternoon we took a bus (!) to Galeries Lafayette, one of the huge department stores in Paris (and one of the first of its kind anywhere). Maggie wanted to do some shopping, and I had heard about a peculiar kind of exhibition. Apparently, the store commissioned David Lynch (filmmaker, photographer, musician, painter) to design 11 display windows at the store. Unfortunately for Maggie, the store is closed Sundays, but fortunately for all of us, the display windows were at street level on Boulevard Haussman.

Consistent with David Lynch's aesthetic, the displays ranged from gruesome to fantastical to sarcastic. Lynch's subject, "Machines, Abstraction and Women," lends itself to provocation. I can't really begin to describe what was actually going on in the windows (and besides, plenty of other blogs have already tried that), so I'll let the pictures do the talking.



The display windows are up through October 3rd.

FFF: "Floating" Food & Fun

On Saturday, Maggie, Robert, Panda and I headed down to Quai Montebello, just across the river from Notre Dame de Paris. There, we experienced a heightened version of traditional French food-shopping: Les Marchés Flottants du Sud-Ouest. Imagine a single row of 50 merchants selling cheese, wine, sausages, foie gras, preserves, chocolates, ice cream, dates, smoked duck breast and more - all products of three départements in the southwest of France.

(Tarn-et-Garonne, Lot-et-Garonne, and Gers are all located within the larger region called Midi-Pyrénées.)

We got to taste a number of items and beverages, we listened to a rag-tag marching band seemingly composed of merchants (which reminded us of the Hobo Band), we people-watched on the Quai, which justified the "floating" part of the market's name, since it sits right on the Seine. Robert bought a bottle of red wine and I invested in some duck rillettes. So delicious! So unhealthy! 

Afterwards, we treated ourselves to Berthillon Glace (only the best ice cream in the world), walked around the Centre Georges Pompidou to see an exhibit celebrating 60 years of the RATP (Parisian public transport, see pictures from the exhibit here), then eventually sat down at a bar in the Marais for a drink. Quite a full afternoon, and quite a fun one!

Free concerts

Coming to Paris this fall? Check out these free concerts at La Madeleine, an impressive church in the 8th arrondissement.

I'm particularly looking forward to the concerts in November. Anyone want to join me?

Cover of a cover

A few days ago, we walked through the Jardin de Luxembourg and stumbled upon a vista that was eerily familiar...

Before I left Boston, my dear friend and colleague Julia gave me a wonderful book titled The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry. This true story of a woman who pursues her dreams in Paris was the perfect summer pre-Paris reading - thanks, Julia!

Anyway, check out the cover of the paperback version:

We did a pretty good job recreating this image, don't you think?

Weekend Update

My bank account is fully open and fully functional!

I opened an account with EDF (Électricité de France), which means we won't get our electricity shut off!

I re-visited the Musée Marmottan-Claude Monet, in part to re-see a bunch of Monet's Nymphéas (Waterlillies) with Robert, but more to see two exhibitions: one of incredible aerial shots/footage of Paris by Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the other a 50-year sample of the photography of Lucien Clergue (thanks to Just Another American in Paris for shamelessly plugging these exhibitions).

Yann Arthus-Bertrand did a whole video/book of shots like this one.

Lucien Clergue's photography focuses on the most elemental aspects of nature - textures, forms, color contrasts. He's also known for his focus on the human figure in its most elemental state.

This evening, Robert and I just barely managed to make it to services on time, because when you get off the Métro at Porte Maillot and enter the Palais des Congrés, you first enter a really swank mall, and there were no signs pointing to services. We finally asked some police officers, who pointed us to the Grand Amphitheatre. All we had to do was go through metal detectors and not get lost in the huge, 3,723-seat hall. The service was nice, albeit in French (Robert tuned out everything that wasn't in Hebrew).

Back at home tonight, on our late-evening walk to the Parc de Belleville, Panda and I stumbled on a cinéma en plein air (open-air film). Apparently there's a whole series in September - exciting!

Finally, L'Shana Tovah, Happy New Year!

If You're Craving Crêpes . . .

In the middle of an epic jaunt through Paris today, we stumbled upon a crêperie that more than deserves a blog post (and probably a medal).

The Crêperie de Josselin (14th arr., Métro Edgar Quinet), a wood-paneled, intimate, Breton-inspired restaurant, serves only crêpes (salé (savory) and sucré (sweet)). They have a 10-euro lunch menu that includes a crêpe complète (egg, cheese, ham), choice of dessert crêpe, and a drink (get the cider). This would be a deal even ignoring the fact that the cook - who is also the woman who has owned the place for 15 years - doubles over the already huge crêpe, which means you get twice as much food as you probably need. She was so friendly, and so skilled, I had to take her picture.

I could spend a lot of time describing the ambience and the food, but luckily someone else has already done the work for me. Suffice it to say, you should go here.

Seeking a Synagogue

This weekend is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and that means it's time to find a synagogue in Paris. As it turns out, the 19th arrondissement, where we live, has a large Jewish population. But as far as I can tell, it's entirely Orthodox and Sephardic, which isn't what I'm used to. There are a few conservative Ashkenazi synagogues in the city, and I think I've found most of them. There's the Synagogue Charles Liché (formerly Synagogue de Place des Vosges), which probably has the best real estate (the Place des Vosges is gorgeous and very swank); there's Kehilat Gesher, a bilingual congregation that holds services both in Paris and in St. Germain-en-Laye; and there's the Union Libérale Israélite de France, which (along with Kehilat Gesher) has a synagogue in the 16th arrondissement.


This last congregation welcomes so many people for the High Holidays that they have to hold two services: one in their regular synagogue, and one at the Palais des Congrès at Porte Maillot, which is basically a convention center/performance venue. And that is where I will be attending services. I'll let you know how it goes, and whether I can see the Rabbi from the nosebleed seats.

                     *             *               *                *                 *
Update - I got the tickets for Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur services in the mail. I asked for two, and they sent two. But they made a major assumption when they printed the tickets, namely:

And "Mme. Epstein?" Here she is:

Robert's in town! Hooray! Here, he's napping off his jet lag (he just got in today) in the Parc de Buttes Chaumont. Hopefully they won't object when he walks in with the "Mme. Epstein" ticket.

Eggs

How much are those eggs . . . in the window? Not too much more than in the states, at 15 cents an egg (22 cents American, so about $2.64/dozen). A few things to point out:

1. Eggs are not in the refrigerated section. They sit on shelves, or in store windows. Is this bad? I have no idea, but I haven't heard of anyone getting sick from eggs. Swine flu ("grippe A"), on the other hand . . .
2. The standard unit for egg purchase is not the dozen. It's whatever you want. I usually get a half-dozen at a time, so my eggs are always pretty fresh.
3. Eggs here are bigger than eggs at home, so the price per ounce is probably less.

This picture is of our favorite Chinese-owned primeur (there are several on our street). A few nights ago, I bought two onions, an 8-ounce zucchini squash (courgette), two carrots, and some spinach for 94 euro cents, or around $1.35. Eating veggies is healthy for my body and for my bank account!

Dogs vs. Little Boys

I'm always saying how Panda is just like a little kid. Now I have (a) proof.

Fact: Dogs in Paris pee (and poop) everywhere. People have gotten better about picking up poop (or so we're told, since it's a little hard to tell), but we still see pee everywhere we walk.

Fact: Yesterday, after some sneaker-shopping at the Go Sport at République, Maggie and I were sitting on the curb while I put on my new generic sneakers. We heard a père (father) say to his fils (son), "Attends, je vais t'aider" (Wait, I'll help you). We turned our heads to the right and were treated to the sight of père helping fils eliminate into the gutter.

Therefore: dogs = little boys (if not all little kids).

* This image is a re-enactment and dramatization of the events that unfolded on Saturday, September 12th, 2009, with identities and likenesses disguised for the protection of those involved.

Pot

Today, while heading out to brunch at Charlie Birdy, a hip restaurant in the 15th arrondissement, Louis and I noticed a handwritten note taped to the wall at the entrance to our building. It said, briefly, "Come enjoy drinks and snacks in the garden today at 5:00." Actually, I have no idea what it said exactly - and at first, I thought it said something about drinks with Delphine at 4:30.... My first thought was that some nice, lonely neighbor wanted to meet people and so put up the note. We returned from brunch around 4:45, and I sent Louis out to go meet the lonely neighbor (hey, he could use the conversation practice - and it would be good for neighborly relations if other people knew we were not simply howling dog-owners).

Ten minutes later, Louis called me because it turned out our next-door neighbor was in the garden and he wanted me to officially meet her (and further mend relations). I joined them in the garden (by the time I made it down, two others had also joined the group.)

I don't recall everyone's name, but by the time we left the garden, two hours later, nearly twenty neighbors had joined the fête. In fact, it turns out the note said something about a pot, or, a "drinks party" or "block party." Not altogether uncommon in Paris, apparently, this is something that our neighbors do more often than most! There are four buildings at our address (with a central courtyard and garden) and it appeared that there was representation from every building.

This is a picture taken from our living room window after we left the party - look closely and you can see the colored shirts of our neighbors and maybe even the tables filled with chocolate, tarts, pâté, fresh-picked figs, wine, tea, champagne, and more!

What's more, I may have picked up more babysitting jobs - many of our neighbors have children (cute, French children!) so when they found out I was a potential babysitter, they asked for my "06" - my cell phone - and I was only too happy to oblige.

Je suis nourrice

In our favorite online dictionary, babysitter is translated as nourrice, but also, perhaps more simply, as babysitter. Just one of the many French words that are not too difficult to understand.

Ever since our third day here, I have gone nearly every day to the apartment of a Parisian family to babysit. For the sake of privacy, I will only tell you that the boys I am babysitting are 9 and 11 and attend a bilingual French/English school. W., the 9-year old, is energetic and loves AC-DC. The 11-year old, P., is polite and curious and enjoys swimming and reading.

You may be wondering why, of all things, I chose to babysit while we are in Paris. At first, it just seemed like something fun to do, and relatively easy to obtain a position. But, in fact, I'm learning that there are many benefits to babysitting while in Paris. For one thing, it is already improving my ability to understand spoken French. Although I generally speak English and the boys respond to me in English, they often speak to each other and to their parents/grandparents in French. I think that it is certainly in my best interest to know what they are saying to each other - boys will be boys, as they say - so I will continue to listen carefully and attempt to decipher what they say even as I continue to push them to speak as much English as possible when we are together.

Secondly, what better way to explore the city than with two curious and energized children in tow? I'm told that on Saturdays we will have more time to go to the "garden" to play "football," and that I can take them to museums and other attractions as time allows. (Don't forget, I get paid for this!).

Over the course of these next 9 months, I hope to report on some of my adventures in babysitting... stay tuned!

Silly Bank

On Thursday, Maggie and I went back to BNP Paribas to start the process of opening a bank account for her. We walked in, went up to the same receptionist I had talked to the previous week, and Maggie said, "Je voudrais ouvrir un compte bancaire." So far, so good.

But then the receptionist asked to see Maggie's pièce d'identité, and when Maggie handed over her passport, the receptionist called over an associate. This woman - whom I hadn't seen when I came in to open my account - informed us that Maggie did not have the right to open a bank acccount because her visa allowed her to enter France, but not to live there. (She was rather indignant about the whole thing, which seemed unnecessary.) Maggie would need the carte de séjour before she could open a bank account. I tried arguing with the woman, telling her that the law had changed and we no longer needed cartes de séjour, that instead we had to mail in some documentation and that it would take a while to get the extra "titre de séjour" on our passports. No dice.

This was all very frustrating, and confusing. When I went to open my bank account, no one asked for une pièce d'identité until it was time to sign papers. And when I expressed surprise to Véronique, the associate who was opening my account, admitting that I thought I would need a carte de séjour, she dismissed the notion completely. But I couldn't tell the indignant associate any of these things, because I didn't want my account to be frozen, and I didn't want Véronique to get in trouble. So basically Maggie was unlucky, and will have to wait some unknown amount of time.

Then again, we did believe that we'd need cartes de séjour to open an account, so none of this really comes as a surprise. Luckily my account is almost open (I should be able to pick up my carte bancaire and carte bleue tomorrow or Tuesday), so we'll be able to pay utilities at the end of the month, which is clutch.

That's What He Said

Another evening walk, another . . . I still have no idea. But this time, I clearly heard, "tee show?" which is probably really (pe)tit show or chaud or cheau or some other combination of nonsensical words.

More importantly, I got some nighttime shots of the Eiffel Tower from the Parc de Belleville (we live on the same hill - we always live on a hill!). As the French say, oh la la . . .*

Every night, the Eiffel Tower sends out a powerful searchlight to illuminate the whole city. This shot, taken at a very slow shutter speed, shows the searchlight passing my vantage point.

On the hour, the searchlight shuts off and the Eiffel Tower seems calm for a moment, until . . .

. . . it begins to shimmer, sparkling silver bursts, the radiant, crackling brilliance of a rotating diamond.

It's hard to top that, so for the purposes of anticlimax, here's the square just opposite where we live, with its hipster street art and murals (the sign reads, "words are to be distrusted").

* Contrary to popular belief, the French do not say "oooooh la la", where "ooooh" rhymes with "boo." Rather, they say "oh la la" where "oh" rhymes with "go." And now you know.

Cry, Baby, Cry

I know what you've been thinking. "When is Louis going to post better audio of that baby crying in the next room?" Well think no more - here it is.

And another.

There's lots of noise around here, so please don't accuse me of picking on a little girl and her harried parents. Also, I've been practicing clarinet every afternoon for 30-45 minutes right before her bedtime, so now we're really even. (Who knows, maybe it's soothing?)

Hot Tip for Visitors

Whether you're coming to see us specifically or just coming to enjoy the city (not that the two are mutually exclusive), you'll probably want to check out a museum or two. This can quickly become expensive, but with the right planning you can actually experience much of the city's cultural offerings for free. Crucial to this endeavor is the following website, which lists a bunch of free permanent collections, free entries, and free days each month for Paris museums:

http://www.parisinfo.com/paris-guide/argent/gratuite-et-bons-plans/

(If your French is a little rusty, here's a quick rundown of the page:

"Gratuits tous les jours, toute l'année" = Free every day, all year

"Gratuits le 1er dimanche de chaque mois, toute l'année" = Free the first Sunday of every month

The next few are "Free the first Sunday of every month from [date] to [date]."

Then, Free Wednesday nights, then an un-free (but possibly worthwhile) museum pass, and finally something that doesn't apply to most people who are likely to come visit.)

The website also serves to point you to museums you would never hear about otherwise (I've heard that the Museum of the History of Paris is awesome). What the page doesn't tell you is that the Louvre is free Friday nights if you're under 26, which is huge. (Normal price: 9€). I'll probably find out about more deals like this in the coming months. Stay tuned, and enjoy!

Indecent Proposals

Two quick vignettes:

A few nights ago, I'm walking Panda towards the Parc de Belleville, up a typical Belleville street. All the buildings are white/stucco-colored and there's a locals-only brasserie every few feet. The whole thing is brightly lit, but it feels a little "dark" because the street isn't mobbed like the one we live on. As I pass a few guys joking loudly while lounging on a railing outside one of the brasseries, one guy drops his voice and asks - super sketchily - something that sounds like, "Un show?" I just keep walking. I have no idea what he was actually offering me, but he's done it twice now. Weird.

Yesterday afternoon, Maggie and I were walking Panda toward the part of the Canal St. Martin where it broadens and becomes the Canal Ourcq, at Métro Jaurès. On the Avenue Simon Bolivar, at a stop light, a middle-aged woman points out Panda to her son - in French-accented English. We smile at both of them, so she asks us what kind of dog Panda is. I say, "Bracque," because I'm pretty sure that means German short-haired pointer. The woman asks, "English?" I say, "Americains," playing the game where I speak French to someone who speaks English to me until they give up and switch back to French. Except this woman doesn't give up. She explains that she teaches French to foreigners. Then she asks if we want French lessons. In the middle of the street. "Non, je crois pas," I reply, "mais merci, et bonne journée." The nerve.

Research Begins . . . and Ends

Monday was the day I was going to start my research. After a week in town, I felt pretty well settled, and I was getting restless. So Monday morning I started packing my bag, and decided to check the hours one last time for the Bibliothèque Nationale. Imagine my frustration when I saw that the library is closed from September 7th through September 20th. (Why they close in September, when people are actually around, rather than August, when everyone deserts the city for les vacances, escapes me.) Of course, I was also relieved that I hadn't wasted a trip down there only to be turned away, which is my default for these kinds of things.

So instead of going to a library Monday, I went to Métro République, where I got a hold of a Passe Navigo (equivalent to a CharlieCard, basically a metro pass you can tap rather than swipe or insert) with my picture on it and everything. Sweet!

Tuesday, I picked out the next library I would go to - the Archives Nationales - and felt good enough about the mental work I had done to devote a significant part of the afternoon walking with Maggie and Panda to a dog store in the 11th, where we procured a bag of dog food and some chew bones. Success!

2nd Blog Challenge: Name all 12 languages in which information for this dog food is provided

Finally, today, Wednesday, I got up "early" (7:30!) and went to the Archives Nationales, just four stops away on la ligne 11. After being shot around the lobby as if in a pinball machine (security to information desk to vestiary to registration desk) I finally landed in the salle des inventaires - basically an entire room acting as the archive's card catalog. Apparently you can't register for a pass until you've confirmed that the documents you want to view actually reside in the Archives Nationales, and you can't confirm that until you've found the cote, or call number, in the salle des inventaires and consulted with the research librarians up there.

The Archives Nationales share a beautiful 18th-century building with the Musée de l'Histoire de France

Full of energy and optimism, I entered the salle des inventaires, only to find the computer bank unhelpful (same interface as you get online, lacks search capability, can't wait to post a rant about French website design). Thanks to the bibliographies of several pieces of secondary literature, I knew the papers of Comtesse Greffulhe, née princesse Elisabeth de Camaran-Chimay (an important salon host and patron) can be found in the Archives Nationales, but I didn't know where.

There she is!

Luckily, I found a citation in a footnote of a book I had scanned and used that to go to the appropriate bookshelf in the room, where I found the inventaire, or finding aid, for the Greffulhe collection. Once I had copied down the numbers of all the folders in the collection I found interesting, I went to the research librarian to ask if I could now (finally) register. The answer was no. We first had to check to see if the materials I wanted to consult required permission. They did. So I had to fill out a permission form, which will be sent to the Greffulhe estate. I will hear back from the Archives Nationales by mail (or email, I'm not sure which) in at most two months. (!!!??!!?) But maybe sooner.

So with less than two weeks down, I'm 0 for 2 on research attempts. Tomorrow I'll try contacting a few private foundations and archives, hopefully with better luck.

Housewarming

In French, a housewarming party is called a "pendaison de crémaillère," or literally "hanging of a pothook," a pothook being the iron mechanism that held up the cauldron at varying heights over the fire in French homes before the advent of the oven. (There's a whole discussion of the etymology of the word crémaillère here.) From what I gather, the pothook was the last thing you'd hang in a new home, since it was crucial for cooking. Last thing hung = we're moved in = party time!

We threw our pendaison de crémaillère Sunday afternoon, and while it was a small affair, it definitely signalled the end of moving to France and the beginning of French living. For one thing, we put on quite a spread: two kinds of bread, two kinds of cheese, melon, grapes, sliced apples, LU Petit Ecolier cookies, a bottle of wine, two kinds of chips (I'm not the first to notice that the French love their potato chips!).

I can't tell you how much fun it was to visit le fromager, then le caviste (wine store), then la boulangère, and finally le primeur (fruits and veggies), getting advice from each on what to serve and how to serve it. I felt so French!

So in terms of cuisine, we're getting into the swing of things. But our houseparty also marked our first step towards reconnecting with French friends, four of whom attended. Now, we're plugged into the "scene" and already have invites to various get-togethers over the next month.

Khayam and Louis plan future get-togethers

Now that we're all settled, I guess it's time to get started on . . . research?

Panda Update

Maybe she isn't quite settled in her new environment, but she sure looks comfortable!

Meanwhile, I've now had pleasant conversations with both of our next-door neighbors (voisins) and their three-year-old daughter (we didn't really talk, I just put my hand out to shake hers, realized her hands were covered in chocolate, and said "Le chocolat, c'est plus important." I think I won her over.).

We've had no further incidents since Thursday, mostly because we haven't left Panda alone for more than about 15 minutes, and even then we've been within earshot. She's making progress - a little whine here and there, but mostly she just lays by the door.

Nowadays, all the noise comes from next door. That three-year-old is loud! (We took this video just in case someone tries to argue that Panda is the only annoying noisemaker on our floor. You may need to turn the volume up, the flipvideo didn't capture the sound real well.)

Fun Facts - Cultural Differences

Saturday afternoon, we visited mon ancien prof de clarinette (ancien = former), Evan, who was getting ready to head back to the states after a summer spent in his studio in the 11e. As always, our conversation was wide-ranging and illuminating. Here are several interesting tidbits we picked up:

• Only about half of the people in France pay income taxes. (I couldn't verify this online, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's true.) Most state revenue comes from sales (there's a flat 21% sales tax, called the value-added-tax or TVA). Since income tax accounts for such a small slice of the government's revenue, France's tax structure ends up being fairly regressive. So much for socialism!
• In New York, an amniocentesis (to check if the baby is healthy) costs around $5,000. In France, it costs around $300.
• In France, pharmacists are state employees. That's why everything is behind-the-counter, and that's why you tell them what's wrong, and they tell you what to get.
• In pharmacies, the more rare/expensive the prescription medication, the cheaper it is for the consumer. And elective medications - things you don't really need - are très, très cher.
• The essay-writing style in French universities is vastly different from that in American universities. In France, you pick a big, unanswerable question, then maneuver within and around the topic in a quasi-philosophic manner. In the States, you're supposed to pick an arguable thesis then support it with cold, hard facts. After three years in the French education system, Evan (who's pursuing a PhD at NYU) had a difficult time adjusting back to the US system.

Hopefully you do not find this terribly boring. I find it all fascinating!

La tour eiffel

We made it!

Today's big adventure was a trip to the Eiffel Tower. Panda braved the Métro (legal? we're "not sure"). The Champ de Mars, the park en face de la tour eiffel, actually had a good contingent of dogs running off-leash. Panda joined them, not quite smoothly, but she got in some much-needed free running. One funny moment: Panda ran for a few minutes and got her insides flowing - enough that she needed to go number two. Unfortunately, the "dog park" was right next to a soccer "field." Panda decided that she would leave her present right on the edge of the field. Now, as you may know, most dog owners in Paris do not pick up after their dogs. Louis and I, on the other hand, often have two, three, or four bags stuffed into pockets and purses for any and every walk. Louis ran over to Panda, picked up the gift, and jettisoned it into the trash - all to the pleasant surprise of the footballers.

Much more to come on this issue, bet you can't wait.

For now, check out more photos from today's adventure:

Drama!

One of the things that worried us most about moving to Paris was the effect the trip would have on Panda's separation anxiety, which we had painstakingly treated throughout last year. We were very careful to leave her a little bit - not too much - as soon as we arrived, and to leave her for shorter and slightly longer periods a few times a day.

Unfortunately, despite all our precautions, Panda relapsed last night. We went out to dinner with a friend-of-a-friend of my mom and her daughter, and when we got back three and a half hours later, we found this note taped to our door:

"Please do not leave your dog to bay at the moon* in your absence. It's unbearable (for your neighbors as well as for your dog . . .)!"

[*That's the translation I found at wordreference.com, we take it to mean that she was whining and howling.]

What's more, as soon as we got to our door, one of our neighbors came out of his apartment to confront us about Panda's howling. He has a three-year-old daughter (which we know, because we listened to her shriek for an hour and a half during dinner the previous night) and Panda made it impossible for her to sleep. The guy said that the next time this happens, he's going to call "les flics," the police. We don't know whether the police respond to domestic disturbances caused by animals, but we'd rather not find out.

So, at least for a little bit, we're back to intensive separation anxiety training. We sit in the stairwell, or right outside the door, or in another room within the apartment with the door closed. We give Panda treats when we leave and take them away when we return. We play the radio and white noise so she doesn't hear noises outside the apartment and so she doesn't feel as alone. And we use the built-in webcams in our computers to monitor her (via Skype) when we're farther away than the stairwell.

Along with retraining Panda to be less devastated when we leave her alone, we're undertaking a public relations campaign in our building, starting with an extremely apologetic letter that we'll post in the stairwell. Given how thin the walls are, and given that we've already heard from three neighbors (#1: the note; #2: guy in next-door apartment, who claimed not to have left the note; #3: neighbor from upstairs with whom we spoke this morning when we were hanging out in the stairwell and who recommended a bark collar!), the audience for our letter is likely large. Here's hoping we can still make friends in our building over the next 9 months.

Detail: Parc des Buttes Chaumont

From this morning's very long stroll to and through the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. Look for the "chai" (not the tea, but the Hebrew word) on the sushi delivery box, distant views of Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower, and what seems like way-too-early fall foliage!

Banking, Part 2

This afternoon, I went to my neighborhood BNP Paribas to open a bank account. Now, I know what you're saying. "But Louis! You don't even have the carte de sejour yet!" True, I don't have the carte de sejour, but it turns out I didn't need it!

All they asked for was my passport (they also got a copy of my translated birth certificate) and proof of residence - which I didn't have (the lease wasn't good enough; they needed a utility bill, which I can't get until I have a bank account to link to the utility company, catch 22).

So I basically did everything necessary to open the account - signed all the paperwork, sifted desperately through quickly-spoken explanations for nuggets of information - but it won't technically be usable until the following happens: 1) I convince EDF or Alice (electricity and internet/telephone companies, respectively) to trade my bank account number for a proof of residence (unlikely); or 2) BNP Paribas sends a letter to my apartment, which I have to sign in front of the postman, who will then send a receipt confirmation to the bank, after which point they will believe I live where I say I live.

In our building, mail is distributed by a sort of concierge (la guardienne - she cleans common areas and probably takes maintenance requests in addition to her mail duties), so odds are I will never see the postman in the flesh. Instead, the guardienne will let me know that the postman was by, will give me a slip to take to the post office, and someone at the post office will send the receipt confirmation to the bank.

All of this shouldn't take longer than 10-12 days. And THEN I'll have my bank account, my carte bancaire (debit card) and carte bleue (credit card) with puce, and one more legal relationship with the French state.

Fine print: the woman who signed me up for the account reminded me that a checking account comes with a savings account, which gets all of 1.25% interest. Now, it may seem like a no-brainer to keep as much money as possible in the savings account and transfer out whatever I need to pay bills. But then I'd be entering into yet another legal relationship with the French state - one in which I have to file a tax return. Yikes!

Excitement from Monday

Highlights from our departure Monday, starting with a video catalogue of all the luggage we're bringing.

A longer and cornier video of our garden, packed luggage, and chauffeur (thanks, Matt!) can be found here.

So much stuff! And finally, on the plane:

The Best Part of Having a Dog in Paris

Maggie and I, we're walkers. Even if it weren't for the dog, we'd probably do a lot of exploring on foot. But we definitely wouldn't do it right away, what with the craziness of unpacking (still not quite done) and stocking the house with living supplies (tp, pt, food, cleaning products, more food). It's been refreshing to get out of the house a few times a day, to be distracted from more "pressing" concerns than strolling around, enjoying the weather, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city.

And we probably wouldn't take quite the same walks. See, Panda has a problem. She's less of a city dog than we'd like to think, and she refuses to eliminate on anything but grass. In Paris, dog-friendly grass is hard to come by (most little gardens and parks are fenced in with anti-dog postings), so we've already trekked far and wide to find the best Panda potty spots. We tried the Parc de Belleville (which should be called Parc de Bellevue, since it offers wondrous panoramas of the whole city), which was mostly closed to dogs but seemed to have a few promising patches of grass. We also tried the park that runs along both sides of the Canal St. Martin with similar results.

Luckily for us, it turns out that the best spot is also the closest one. Large, verdant, and dog-filled, the Parc des Buttes Chaumonts is a 7-minute walk from our place.

Afficher Our Paris sur une carte plus grande

Unfortunately, it's closed 9 pm - 7 am in the summer and longer in the winter, which means we may ultimately have to find somewhere else to go if Panda isn't to have to hold it for 12 hours every night.

Or, we could train/force Panda to learn to go on the pavement, like all the other normal Parisian dogs. I'd be really interested to know if anyone has ideas for how to accomplish that.

Meanwhile, I stepped in a Parisian's pooch's pungent present (I adore alliteration!) for the first time today. I'm hoping to keep track of the total count, much like the protagonist in the aptly-titled A Year in the Merde. You can follow along at home!

Poop-Steps: 1

Apologies

Yes, we're in Paris!

Yes, we have been negligent about posting!

But we have an excuse. I came down with a 24-hour bug just before boarding the plane, and have been valliantly clawing my way back into the world of healthy people ever since.

Since I can now focus enough to write cogently, please accept this word cloud of our first 24 hours here as an apology for our absenteeism.

Panda is in Paris!

airplane crossword puzzle

early morning landing at Charles de Gaulle airport

We made it!