In the Place du…I can’t remember what, I found a market, some sort of annual or semi-annual cultural and sporting exchange of the town. All the local sports clubs as well as various community organisations had stalls around the edge of the square, and a stage in the middle hosted bands singing in, while I was there, English. Seeing as it was lunchtime, after a brief walk around the square I joined a queue to buy some lunch.
Ordering a drink and some French fries (kind of tasteless, by the way – our chips are so much better), the (kinda cute) guy serving me suddenly asked “Do you speak English?” A little surprised, I told him yes, and burying my face briefly in my hands at being caught, I asked, “How can you tell?” “Your accent,” he told me. “I have an accent?” “Yes, just a little bit.” Damn! Apparently my French contains traces of English speaker – enough (along with my broken French) to identify me as ‘please speak English’. Ah well. I sat down and ate my lunch before heading to the supermarket to buy my long-awaited broom! I now have a clean apartment!
I’ve started cooking my own meals, tentatively using the pot provided, though I’m still using my own plastic crockery and cutlery until I can buy my own. Yesterday I even bought a demi-baguette (half-baguette) to go with my pasta-coated-in-cheese-and-basil. I’ve also done most of my unpacking now (yes, Mum, I found the birthday present as well) so my room actually looks neat, presentable and bedroom-like – more photos to come.
I have the windows wide open, as usual, to let the cool Paris air in, and I have my usual beautiful view of the Paris sky fading into night, sunset included. The planes are leaving white streaks across the late afternoon (8pm) sky as they head to and from the airport just north-west of here. I’ve been rising and sleeping with the sun – I conk out around 9.30pm from a combination of exhaustion, sleep deprivation, emotional stress and jet lag, and wake up just after sunrise around 7am, which is after all 3pm in Australia. Tomorrow I have planned the long-awaited and much-dreaded trip to the nearby Carrefour (large supermarket/shopping centre) to try and buy some much needed items, and if I have the energy I might just go for that walk to find the local swimming pool.
Day 5 - started with the usual conversation downstairs with the family on Skype. I then packed my bag for a morning trip around town - the pharmacy for some antiseptic and bandages, the supermarket for some tissues, the town hall for instructions on how to get a carte de sejour, and the bank (no.2, that is) to open a bank account. It was closed. On my return to the residence I was grabbed by Rony, who, after a bit of polite conversation (in French! Now he knows I actually can speak the language when not jet-lagged!), sent me in to see Brigitte.
Brigitte went through and formally signed and stamped all the contractual stuff we'd emailed her, then had Rony make photocopies for me, saying I'd need the for the bank account. We did a little more paperwork and then talked about my studies and my plans to become a cycling journalist (since Brigitte assumed I wanted to be a teacher with my languages) before Rony accompanied me back upstairs to put the final touches on my apartment. After hanging the curtain for me (since cripple can't do anything for herself anymore) and fixing the cupboard door as well as adding the handle, he noted that my fridge still doesn't close properly and headed downstairs to grab the internet cord he had for me. When he came back, he was pushing a fridge.
We traded my dying model for a brand-new mini-fridge before Rony left me to sort my room out and connect up the Internet cord. Success! I now have Internet in my room! A long conversation on Skype with the parents from the comfort of my own room and some ministrations to my ailing foot and it was already lunchtime and I had chores I couldn't put off. It was time to go to the Carrefour.
Carrefour is sort of like...imagine Coles meets Big W with a little bit of Harvey Norman thrown in for good measure. It's a supermarket and general goods store that does food, electrical, computers, furniture, kitchen, clothing, stationery...the works. Damn! I forgot my cactus! Never mind, more about that later. Anyway, Carrefour has just about everything, so it was definitely where to go to find the kettle and coat-hangers that I so badly needed.
The bus to Place de 8 mai 1945 in La Courneuve again and then I got to take my first trip on the tram. Paris has four tram lines with very limited routes, compared to the rest of their public transport system, and one just so happens to go through Seine-St-Denis, my prefecture. A four-minute trip two stops east to Drancy-Avenir found me outside the Avenir Centre Commercial (Future Shopping Centre) in the suburb of Drancy. A Carrefour usually has a few other specialty shops attached to make up the shopping centre, but it's Carrefour that's the most comprehensive. I wandered along outside just staring for a while, before diving into the kitchen section.
15 minutes later I had some basic cutlery of my own and a mug and bowl, but no sign of the kettle. I'd also located the plant section with cheap little cactuses for sale. I'd even chose the trio that were to come home with me (though I hadn't decided which one was going to be named McPedro), though as you can see above I forgot to go back for them. I'll be returning in the near future, so I'll collect them then.
I scooped up a teatowel, flannel (or what passes for a flannel/face cloth in France - this pair of fuzzy gloves that look sort of like those bath loofah things...whatever. Mine just got a new life sponging sweat off my over-worked left leg), and even found coat-hangers for both my skirts and my blouses. I stumbled over the kettles (though thankfully not literally) quite by accident while inspecting the kitchen knives (though without a chopping board, the knife still isn't much use...). I'd been going for a purple theme, which was kind of thrown out by the lime green kettle, though since it was much more attractive than the orange one, I didn't mind too much. A funny French version of Blu-tack and I was ready to go (though I did pick up something else at the counter - Mum, show Kiri the photo below...)
Of course, I then had to lug my spoils home in my backpack (after stopping for a late neglected lunch at the boulangerie). Needless to say, it was a longer trip home than it was there. I was so exhausted from the funny-shaped backpack I was hauling that I collapsed at my desk and watched music videos for an hour (in English and in French. The new songs from Simple Plan and M. Pokora are great). I finally found the energy to hang up _most_ of my new wardrobe (I need more hangers...told you I'd be going back soon) and disseminate my new kitchen gear. In a minute, once Ive finished tidying up after dinner, I'll attach the recent photos of my clean apartment, along with new ones of my Tommeke poster on the wall and my newly-semi-furnished purple-and-lime-green kitchen. Over and out! (that is to say, au revoir, mes amis...)
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| Tea and a bikkie - a Petit Ecolier is like a Nice biscuit with Cadbury on top... |
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| My room, post-clean-and-sweep |
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| The view from my window - I'm on the 4th floor! |
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| My wardrobe, partially cleaned and unpacked. |
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| Toys and gadgets at the foot of my bed. |
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| My kitchen. |
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| Look a little cleaner? |
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| I've arranged the bathroom now. |
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| Domestic enough? |
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| In the Le Bourget town hall. |
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| The Carrefour in Drancy. |
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| The tabac in the Carrefour - I see this sign everywhere, Mum! |
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| My new purple-lime theme...like it? |
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| My Tommeke wall - feels like home now! |
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