L'appartement

We had already been in Paris for a couple of days and were getting settled in. The apartment was really nice, everything we had expected, and the neighborhood also seemed great, a vibrant and convenient location. I knew we were going to enjoy living there.

Our building, according to the architect's signature on the facade, was built in 1893. You arrived at the portes cochères (carriage doors), a massive double door at the entrance that was hardly ever opened; you'd actually enter through one of the two smaller doors within the large doors. On the other side of those doors was a small passage that lead to the Gardienne's apartment and to the actual entrance to our building, as well as to a courtyard that lead to a smaller interior building.

We were on the first floor, which in France is one flight up from the ground floor. So fortunately we didn't have to use the tiny elevator that much, which as with most old buildings in Paris had to be retrofitted. As you entered the apartment, a small foyer lead to the living room and a small bathroom. This small bathroom is known in France as the toilette, literally, the toilet. A convenient French invention, having the toilet separate from the rest of the bathroom.

The living room was large and comfortable and got some nice sunlight in the morning. It also had a great desk from where I could work. From the living room you accessed the main bedroom with an adjacent salle de bain (a bath room, which is a bathroom without a toilet), as well as the dining room, which also was quite spacious. The apartment did not have a hallway; you reached every room from the living room or the dining room.

From the dining room you accessed the kitchen as well as the other two bedrooms. The kitchen was well equipped, and was large for Parisian standards—it even included a small table where we would have coffee and, if we squeezed together, breakfast. From the kitchen there was access to another bathroom, which was about the size of an airplane bathroom, with a shower at the end, but it was functional.

This would be our house for the next 10½ months. It was a big change for us, coming from a typical suburban house in the States that was about three times as large as the apartment, yet we did not have trouble adapting to such a small space. Perhaps because we knew what to expect and were willing to sacrifice space for location. Or maybe it was due to the fact that we knew we didn't need much and that everything we wanted was outside in the magnificent city of Paris. Or simply because we were delighted to be there. Whatever it was, that apartment was more than a house, it was our new home!

Darty

The day after we got to Paris I needed to buy an electrical converter or something so I could plug in my 110-120V laptop into the 220-240V French electrical outlets. The day before we noticed a Darty, an electrical and electronic appliances store, across the street from the Monoprix, so obviously we went straight there.

The salesman in the laptops section was offering me a new power cable that included several connectors, one of which should fit into my laptop. It only cost 70 euros! But in another part of the store I saw a small transformer for 24 euros, which would convert the French 220-240V to the110-120V of my laptop. So I wanted the salesman to explain the difference. Oh no, that would not be possible, he could only explain the one he was offering, not the one that was somewhere else in the store. Not understanding what the problem was (maybe he was not allowed to walk away from his section), I offered to bring the transformer to him, but still, that would not work, he could only explain to me the one in his section. But I insisted, couldn't I bring it quickly and just show it to him? Just a quick peek? Still no, that would not be possible.

Fortunately I decided not to buy anything, and when I got back home I noticed my laptop power cord actually has an input range of 100-240V, which meant I didn't need an electrical converter or transformer after all, just a 5 euro plug adaptor that lets me plug my power cord into the French wall outlet.

We were surprised at the bad service and thought we had just been unlucky with our sales person, but later on we found out this was typical for Darty, and when we'd mention Darty among our recently-arrived friends, everyone would roll their eyes.

Among tourists, the French—especially Parisians, and especially Parisian waiters—have a reputation for being rude and a bit stuck up. That may have been true in the past and probably still happens occasionally, but it seems it's one of those clichés that people keep perpetuating and are on the lookout to confirm. However, it was not our experience at all the whole time we were in Paris. In fact, people were very nice to us and generally made us feel welcome, but even so I suppose there always are exceptions and Darty seems to be one of them. From then on we went to the Fnac store, another French retailer we discovered further down the same street.

In 2016 Darty was purchased by Fnac. Following the takeover, Fnac and Darty merged and the group became Fnac Darty.

We arrived!

When we left Seattle we knew we would miss our connection in Reykjavik because our flight had suffered a long delay, but apparently our connecting flight also had a delay because when we landed the Icelandair gate crew informed us our original connecting plane was still there. They rushed us through the airport and managed to get us to our connecting flight to Paris, making it the briefest layover ever. We were not able to alert our landlady of our new arrival time but we were happy to be on our way.

When we were issued our long-stay visas, we were explicitly told by the French consulate to make sure they stamped our passports upon arrival, because we'd need to show this stamp at some French office called OFII in order to validate our visas. But we never passed an immigration booth after getting off the plane at Charles de Gaulle's Terminal 1, and once we got into the 1970s "avante-garde" tangle of escalators inside plastic tubes that put you directly in the baggage area, there was no way to go back.

So we walked aimlessly for several minutes until we saw a customs officer and asked him where we could get our passports stamped, and after explaining to him that we had arrived via Iceland, where our passports fortunately had been stamped while they rushed us through immigration and security, he said that that counted as our French immigration stamp since Iceland is also part of the Schengen Area, which operates like a single state for international travel regarding visas and border controls.

After claiming our ten bags we located a public phone. Fortunately we had some coins from our previous trip and were able to figure out how to use the French pay phone and reach our landlady to let her know we'd arrived, just before being forced to evacuate the terminal because they had discovered an unattended bag in one of the restrooms.

We never got to alert the private van we had reserved of our delay, but since there was no one waiting for us we figured they were gone, so we took a large airport taxi instead. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon, and we could not contain our excitement as we drove away from the airport towards the city. After all those months of dreaming and planning, we were finally in Paris! Dianny and I had to catch our breaths when we got off the Périphérique highway and started going through the beautiful city streets. I think those of us who are infatuated with Paris will always go through that sense of thrill and awe as we enter the city.

We beat the landlady to our building, which according to the architect’s signature on the façade was built in 1893. So we hung around outside while she arrived. 

Wait—is that a Starbucks? There was an "Opening Soon" sign above the unmistakable green-and-white mermaid logo next to our building. I couldn't believe we had just moved 5000 miles to the city that's famous for its sidewalk cafés to live next to a Starbucks! A true Seattleite might have been excited, since Seattle is where Starbucks was born, but I didn't like their coffee very much. Besides, why would you want to go to Starbucks instead of a local cafe?

When the landlady finally arrived, it wasn't hard for her to recognize the family of five with their very conspicuous luggage waiting on the sidewalk by the building entrance. After warm bonjours we went inside and had to make several trips in the small elevator to get all our luggage upstairs. 

We entered the apartment with anticipation. We had only seen it in pictures, and we were hoping there would be no surprises when we got there. But fortunately the place was lovely, exactly like in the pictures and very well kept. The place was really wonderful, comfortable and spacious enough for the five of us. We knew we were going to enjoy living there.

We then spent the next two hours getting to know each other and doing a full inventory of the apartment's contents and condition (something called the état des lieux), which is not something one should have to do after a long overnight transatlantic trip. 

After that we did a little grocery shopping at the local Monoprix, which we had already scouted on Google maps, so we'd have something to eat the next day. We managed to extend the day till about 10 PM before crashing, but all of us still ended up waking up between 3‑4 AM. After a couple of restless hours everyone fell back asleep and we slept till noon.

Au revoir, Seattle

We planned our arrival for the last week of August, about a week before school started so that we'd have enough time to settle in, fight jet-lag, get our bearings, get the kids' school supplies, and so on. So we were in a sort of hurry-up-and-wait situation and couldn’t wait till August. 

Summer arrived and the kids started their school vacation. We all went on about our lives pretty normally, enjoying the beautiful Seattle weather but wishing time would pass quickly. Once August arrived the craziness started. I was working on a freelance project for Microsoft that I needed to deliver before leaving, and at the same time we were organizing everything we needed to bring with us for the year and making arrangements for the things that would stay behind.

Deciding what to take and packing our luggage was a nightmare, especially for the kids, who wanted to bring way more things like toys and stuffed animals than we could handle, but we managed to fit into the ten suitcases plus five carry-on bags that were allowed back then. We were eager to go. There was excitement, anticipation, even some nervousness. Would the taxi van be waiting for us on arrival? Would the apartment turn out as nice as it looked in pictures? Would we like the neighborhood we picked? Would the kids have trouble adapting or studying in French? Would Dianny and I ever want to leave Paris?

We were flying on Icelandair via Reykjavik and would be arriving in Paris the following day. Au revoir, Seattle; our Parisian adventure was about to begin!

Except that at the airport the airline informed us that our trip was delayed and would leave Seattle at least three hours late, which meant we would lose our connection in Reykjavik. So the airline kindly rescheduled our connecting flight for a much later (almost 24 hours later) flight from Reykjavik to Paris. We were able to alert our landlady by email that we would be arriving much later than expected in Paris, but due to the time difference did not get a reply.