Wednesday 5 September 2012

Arrivee

So it's a nice, normal summer day in Paris - yes, September is still summer to the French.  Unfortunately I'm a little too out of things to appreciate it - between 24 hours on a plane, jet lag, sleep deprivation and the sheer gutsiness and craziness of what I've just done, I'm in a bit of a trance-like state, at least until I can get some sleep.  Regardless, the sooner I start writing down my adventures for you vicarious readers at home, the less I have to write tomorrow.

My friend Julien met me at the airport, a sticky, sweaty, crippled specimen of Australianity.  Together we headed out of the terminal to the attached train station, where we caught the next RER (suburban train) on line B.  Seven stops later and we'd reached my new home - Le Bourget.

Le Bourget is like any other dingy suburb of a city.  It's typically Parisien - cramped streets, old buildings, and lots of people all speaking French.  We set off for my residence, only to realise as we neared the dot on the map that the dot did NOT represent our destination after all, forcing a backtrack of...oh, most of the distance we'd just covered.  As my hands were killing me on the crutches by then, we walked back to Avenue de la Division Leclerc, the main-ish street of Le Bourget that runs neatly down the middle, and hopped on the next bus to metro station La Cournueve 8 mai 1945 (yes, that's seriously the full name of the station), which is at the end of the Avenue. Two stops later and Julien and I jumped out, now close enough to my residence to walk.  Directly next to the bus stop was Rue Rigaud, my street.  My day had just gotten WAAAAY better.  Instead of facing a long walk to the RER station and a train change to get to uni, I was now looking at a 3-minute walk to the end of the street and bus ride to La Cournueve, which goes all the way through to Sorbonne Uni's nearest metro station.  WIN!

As soon as we got ourselves in the door we were spotted by a guy in an office, who I assumed was Rony Lacreole, the replacement for building manager Brigitte.  Rony turned out to be a huge (HUGE) black Guadaloupean who's actually pretty cool and even tried making some jokes once my brain was up to understanding them.  After quickly going over the paperwork to check everything was in order, we headed upstairs to look at my apartment and complete the Etat des Lieux - the condition report.

The room was maybe a little smaller than I'd imagined, and the whole place could use a good sweep and scrub (not to mention a few repairs here and there) but on the whole it's just what I need, and it's home now.  I'd post a few photos for you, but I got downstairs only to realise I haven't installed my new camera software yet.  If I leave my room again tonight I might indulge, otherwise you'll have to wait until tomorrow.   Anyway, we checked out the whole room and filled in the Etat de Lieux before Julien had to leave.  Then Rony took me downstairs and showed me the laundry, rec room and mail boxes, including the brand-new sticker saying 'Greenbank' on one of them.  Awwww.  By general consent we've skipped the tour of the gym for the time being.

The rec room has a couple of vending machines and a large pile of French books that people are welcome to read.  Rony got a bit of shock when I knelt down to check out the titles and then started squealing over the dozen or so French Agatha Christies I found.  They also do a breakfast service in here most days of the week.  I may put my name down for a couple of days this week, since I haven't got breakfast food yet and I may as well try it out.  The vending machines have got cheap coffee and hot chocolate as well as choccy bars and soft drink, and I'm really wishing I had some Euro coinage as they stock Orangina, my favourite French soft drink.

I don't think I have much else to say, except that when Rony left for the day (he stayed to get me settled and risked the wrath of his girlfriend in doing so) and I rushed to the window of my new apartment, it finally occurred to me that I've actually gone and moved to Paris.  It may take a few weeks for the idea to sink in (i.e. once I remember that there's no return flight and I really am staying here), but it's finally clicked that I actually went through with it and moved to the far side of the world.  The best part is (and this may just be the jet lag and loopiness speaking) but I don't even feel homesick - just determined to get sorted out and settled in (tomorrow it's shopping, setting up a bank account and getting a SIM card).  I don't even feel too overwhelmed by the whole business, barring the part where life in general is harder on crutches.  I'm already starting to think that this might just actually work.

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