Rungis, 00h51
18 January 2010
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I've spent the last three nights in Rungis, a suburb south of Paris, in the home of my (really unbelievably good-looking) friend. I'm trying hard to find a place to go (since I can only stay here until the 22nd when his brother comes back), but the Paris housing market is not as inviting as I was hoping it would be. Though I shouldn't be complaining -- here studios and room shares within the city limits actually exist in the less than $600 bracket (yes, this is American dollars). My current coupe de coeur is a studio in the 19ème, overlooking the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, shared with an architecture student for a whopping 350€ par mois ($502.83 charges included). But really, who could care about personal space at that price ?
I'm also kind of desperate to get out of here because, while Julien is thoroughly enjoyable to look at (even more fun to talk to, if you'll believe it), and he and his family (Ma, Pa and pooch) overwhelm me with their generosity (well, maybe not so much the pooch), I frequently fear taking advantage (or appearing to take advantage) of the situation. That, and the frequent visits of Ju's 20 year-old girlfriend that's prettier than a Victorian-style baby-doll with bigger eyes (and fancier clothes) is making me feel....awkward. She is just so friggin cute you kind of want to pinch her until she stops breathing (and I would if I thought if would work). Her name I forget, though she goes by a shortened version, "Prie," a homonyn of the French word prix (price), which seems fitting for the porcelin thing.
I am dying of third-wheel-itis.
I went to see Valerie and Philippe and the kids this evening. It was a lot easier than the last time, probably because I knew it wasn't going to be the hi/bye I was forced to do then. There's a flash of recognition when Ugo and Victoria see me, but it was over 2 1/2 years ago that I worked there and they were so young, I gave up any hope of their remembering me after I'd been gone even a couple months. After dinner, though, Ugo showed me his room and pulled from his hidden supply of kid-treasure notes that I'd left him when I was still his nounou and letters I sent him later from New York. It was one of the better moments of my life.
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I've spent the last three nights in Rungis, a suburb south of Paris, in the home of my (really unbelievably good-looking) friend. I'm trying hard to find a place to go (since I can only stay here until the 22nd when his brother comes back), but the Paris housing market is not as inviting as I was hoping it would be. Though I shouldn't be complaining -- here studios and room shares within the city limits actually exist in the less than $600 bracket (yes, this is American dollars). My current coupe de coeur is a studio in the 19ème, overlooking the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, shared with an architecture student for a whopping 350€ par mois ($502.83 charges included). But really, who could care about personal space at that price ?
I'm also kind of desperate to get out of here because, while Julien is thoroughly enjoyable to look at (even more fun to talk to, if you'll believe it), and he and his family (Ma, Pa and pooch) overwhelm me with their generosity (well, maybe not so much the pooch), I frequently fear taking advantage (or appearing to take advantage) of the situation. That, and the frequent visits of Ju's 20 year-old girlfriend that's prettier than a Victorian-style baby-doll with bigger eyes (and fancier clothes) is making me feel....awkward. She is just so friggin cute you kind of want to pinch her until she stops breathing (and I would if I thought if would work). Her name I forget, though she goes by a shortened version, "Prie," a homonyn of the French word prix (price), which seems fitting for the porcelin thing.
I am dying of third-wheel-itis.
I went to see Valerie and Philippe and the kids this evening. It was a lot easier than the last time, probably because I knew it wasn't going to be the hi/bye I was forced to do then. There's a flash of recognition when Ugo and Victoria see me, but it was over 2 1/2 years ago that I worked there and they were so young, I gave up any hope of their remembering me after I'd been gone even a couple months. After dinner, though, Ugo showed me his room and pulled from his hidden supply of kid-treasure notes that I'd left him when I was still his nounou and letters I sent him later from New York. It was one of the better moments of my life.
I love you.
ReplyDeleteI have more to say, and certainly more I want to say in response to your posts (posts! TWO! PLURAL! I'm so proud of you!) but right now all I can manage is I love you.
Je t'aime.
I've been scouring craigslist-paris, why is it so expensive!? i hope you find something that suits you. lovelovelovelove you.
ReplyDeletehow was i ever so lucky as to meet people like you two ?
ReplyDelete