Sunny Afternoon

It looks like every Friday the students at the Ecole Gaulier organise a party in bar somewhere in town, a different place each week. Apparently the only bar in Sceaux shuts at 8pm, plus most people live in Paris proper anyway, so the second years put up a notice on Fridays saying what time and at what bar to meet. This time it was in a bar in Belleville in the 11th. Richard and I bumped into a group from the school on the metro so ended up going to eat with them first. We walked past a plaque which said Edith Piaf had been born on the pavement in front, and our restaurant was playing the music from "Belleville Rendezvous". We didn't get to the bar until 11.30 after wandering around looking for food and waiting to order, but I feel like I've met some people from the course now and can start putting faces to names.

On Saturday we were up earlyish to go to our first flat viewing. We've heard that many landlords and agents require a 'dossier' containing a ton of personal information - letters from guarantors who must be French, parents, originals of bank statements going back three months, passports etc. So we're looking at FUSAC, the Anglophone listings paper here, and Craigslist, which seem to cater to dossierless foreigners.

Our first viewing yesterday was a flat near Gare l'Est, next to the canal where Amelie skims her stones. It was very beautiful, top floor, light and airy. We were feeling pretty keen but right at the end Richard thought to ask whether furniture was included, and the answer was no. Bum! He hadn't put that in the ad. We considered whether we could manage it anyway but decided it could run into way too much money and the thought of lugging a bed up 7 flights of beautiful curving staircase was a grim one too. The next flat was near Nationale, in the 13th. The chap didn't turn up in the end, but the area was pretty grim so we weren't disappointed not to see it. It made us realise how lucky we were to get the place we're in now.

We went to our local park today, Parc Montsouris which I suppose means 'mouse mountain'? There was a cafe there called 'Le Souris Vert' and it sold 'barbe papas' - papa's beard, which is cotton candy! There was sugar in the air which you could taste as you walked past. And do you reckon Barbapapa is so-called because he is also pink and amorphous? I think so too! The park was beautiful, full of families and as Richard said, 'very well equipped' - it offered: pony rides, cafes, a lovely lake, a puppet theatre which puts on shows five times a week and benches that whisper loving things to you in different languages when you sit on them. We didn't find those, so we'll have to go back. They sound weird - I hope they don't put their woody arms around you too, or grow all over you in loving fashion.

Here are some park photos!




And here is our street, rue Couche:

Our flat is on the left on the corner, first floor.