Living like a local (or just taking it easy)

Three weeks later and I am pleased to inform that I am adjusting to both the requirements and the routine of the life of a stagiare, having passed the clearly crucial milestones of having company at lunchtime and learning the art of strategic metro shuffling for the journey home.  Professionally there has not been that much development (it seems diversity of tasks for the interns is not high on the list of company priorities) but with a stimulating environment and fading of the fear of making minor mistakes, working life remains enjoyable enough. Besides, as one is frequently reminded, we all have to start somewhere.

The passing of the month of May also brought with it a slightly unsettling alteration of plans, leaving me with an unanticipated change of desk and view (along with the altogether unexpected dose of sunshine) in which to continue the Parisian story. After a windy weekend with the female members of the Grace family (making up for in company what the weather failed to provide), spent strolling and sightseeing in a leisurely manner with many pit-stops for refreshment (apologies for authorial repetition, but some things will never change) the pace picked up slightly following a necessary demenagement and consequently a week spent searching for my next abode and not really achieving anything other than honing my awareness that French landlords are even more willing to exploit desperate students than their English counterparts. Just as I was on the brink of switching from appartager.com to flybe, a last minute rushed response to an add and flying visit left me 24hours (and a traumatic metro journey across Paris) later bedding down yet again in another strange room, slightly disorientated but relieved to not be on the plane back to England.  And being the new lodger of a retired editrice (tiens! qui aurait cru? fancy that!) means I am now, quite literally, surrounded by books. In further reminders of Gods humbling faithfulness and provision, I have found myself not only with a new place to leave my toothbrush, but an environment wonderfully suited to my current needs. 

Furthermore, swapping student-artsy-chic of the 5^th arrondissement for the leafy residential Paris 15eme, it’s not just the house rules and the tea-making facilities that I am assessing. With the stress of the 4^th house move on French soil in the past 8 months leaving me a little on the weary side, there has been nothing to write home about in terms of Parisian adventure since we last spoke. However this has left me well placed for trying out living-like-a-local in light of weather too warm to brave the metro and a district rather enjoyably devoid of tourists.

Highlights thus far have been the market that happens on a Sunday morning, quite literally on my doorstep and encompassing an impressive part of the surrounding streets. I was a little overexcited at my first real French market (in Paris of all places), and bought more fruit and vegetables (from a variety of stall holders) than it was possible to consume in a week. Today was spent catching some rays (i.e. applying sun cream in the shade) in the local park, persevering with a novel so as not to make hasty prejudgments of Camille Laurens halfway through her work (though I’m pretty sure her collection on my bookshelf ends here), as well as the lighter activity of some picnic-people watching. The 15^th is also complete with a (wait for it) marché du livre on Saturdays and Sundays. This isn’t entirely helpful considering my penchant for book buying and the less-than-generous salary of a stagiare, but I’m not complaining. Perhaps I will need to limit my strolling in that direction though, considering I have been here 7 days and already have two new additions to what is going to be a rather heavy suitcase home.

The sunshine has now been rather meanly pushed aside by some threatening clouds on the horizon, and there is rain forecast for tomorrow, bringing what I hope is only a brief interlude in the long awaited onset of summer*. Luckily once more the company will outshine the showers, as on the agenda is a reunion with an old friend from Alsace, une francaise among a few that point to the bright side of sometimes unsettling changes of country, city, and postcode. Welcome encounters and new friends make each move memorable, and lunching with Annie in Paris will be a surreal but thoroughly enjoyable reminder of quite how much adventure has been had this year. Even if that adventure looks more like day-to-day french-life, with all the moving around or perhaps just sitting in the park that goes with it.

*I have noted an all too frequent referral to the weather in my musings, and have come to the conclusion that 8 months in France has provoked a necessary reaffirmation of my English-ness to avoid confusion and ease the eventual reinstitution into the green and pleasant land.