Première promenade parisienne

We arrived at my building - I couldn't believe I was going to be living there for the next 5 months. It's a beautiful, pre-pre-war building just off a chique (and Jewish) neighborhood. It also does not have an elevator, which is why I so greatly appreciated that the driver helped me carry my two 50 pound bags up the three flights of very windy stairs... until I realized they were the wrong three flights, and that he'd already driven off. While lugging my bags downstairs and then back up to the other 3rd floor, I decided that if I could pull this off (or rather up, aaaall the way up), the 10 page French paper I'd worried about writing could indeed be done. Well, we'll see about that...

Finally, I arrived at my host's door - my host whose physique and temperament I'd imagined as Meryl Streep's in "Julie & Julia." And then this small, prim-looking blond woman opens the door, kisses both my cheeks, and without a word, walks me down a neverendingly long hallway that leads to a quaint bedroom, bed made, with original cubist and impressionistic paintings on the walls. But I ain't seen nuh-in yet.

After placing my luggage in my room, Madame B. walks me further down the hall to a room that appeared a mixture of a dinner-party waiting to happen, an intellectuals-only cocktail hour, and the Louvre. The table was set with drinks and desserts, the furniture looked like it was just off the boat from an exquisite Sri Lankan textile shop, and the paintings on the walls made me debate going to a museum the next day.

So in this unbelievable room, I sit down. And then that's all I do, for the next 10 (very long) minutes. After a few small talk questions, my host mom asks (in French; she only speaks French) "Wait, didn't you say you've been speaking French for five years?" Eeek. I explain that my parole is not up to par, and that in my head, I know French. But better to show than tell...
I sat there in silence with little acknowledgment of me, or even much speech between the other three people sitting there. I had no idea what was going on, when I noticed a framed picture adorned with a shining candle and hypothesized that perhaps this was a memorial sitting of some sort. So you'd think I'd know better than to ask if she was hosting a "fête" (=party, or my generalized word for a gathering of people)...

But alas - cultural norms and abnorms. This greeting scorched me not with warmth, but later when I pushed on the half-open washroom door, my host invited me to brush my teeth with her, and she showed me three times how to flick off the bathroom light to make sure I understood... And then told me never to get soap on the marble sink or bath counters. (There are definitely those out there who will love/ laugh at this living arrangement for me. I feel like a princess in what might be the nicest apartment I've ever seen, but that comes with lots of "be careful"s.)

Friday, January 8, 2:39pm

FAUX PAS of the day (I imagine this will be the first of a series)-
Said: "No No No, I did not sleep well. But thank you for waking me."
Meant: "No No No, I am not still sleeping. But thank you for waking me."

Okay, moving on.
So as I was walking through the Old City, I mean le Marais (the Jewish quarter)...
Seriously though, it feels just like Jerusalem, complete with cobble stone roads, men on the sides asking if you're "Juif" (Jewish) and want to try using tefillin, falafel stores and bakery aromas on every corner. After a very kind cashier helped me buy "halla" and directed me to a store with grape juice "casher," I stopped into this Jewish book store and wooooow. They had every piece of great Jewish literature, only in French. The Kuzari, Maimonides' "Guide des Egarés" (Guide of the Perplexed), and books by "Philippe" Roth. I was smiling so loudly I thought the cashiers might hear me - what a warm welcome! I quickly used a Hebrew-French dictionary to check a few words I'd been needing, and then headed out.

On my way back, I saw signs pointing to "Maison de Victor Hugo" and "Musée Picasso"! Right here! Clearly, lots more to explore even within the close vicinity of my new home, but for now-
Shabbat Shalom!