Boxes make me nauseous

I'm moving again. But this time I'm being an adult about it. Meaning that I hired a mover with a van. He calls it the Man Van, or the Camionnette de l'homme. Packing things in boxes to take in the van instead of suitcases to take in the metro. Which I guess shows that my station of life has slightly improved since my last metro/taxi moves. Although I did have an actual boyfriend who helped for one of the past moves. But then again, he had a bicycle, not a man van.

All that stands between my nice apartment with a balcony with a view of Sacre Coeur and me is: 6 flights of stairs, a giant suitcase, 12 boxes, 3 pieces of furniture and a cross town drive.

Ils twitent, donc ils sont

Doesn't Twitter sound like the most boring thing imaginable? I don't think I could ever really care about it. I think it's for the same people who feverishly update their facebook status from their cell phones. Because they just have to tell everyone when they're eating a bagel and are so caught up in the urgent nature of this breaking news that they can't wait for the old computer to crank up. I mean, that takes like 30 whole seconds and by then they might be done with their bagel and doing something else. Like drinking orange juice. Oops, time for a new update.

Even this post about Twitter is boring. And while Twitter is also boring, this post unfortunately is not, therefore a Twitter update. It somehow escapes this syllogismic logic because it's not appopriate Twitter length as it's over 140 characters, making it too long for our short attention span self-obsession. And uses complete sentences.

Twitter might, however, be useful for ESL lessons working on use of the present continuous, though. Perhaps this will change the way we teach English verb tenses abroad.

Although if Parisians twitted, they'd probably stay away from hyperactive Anglo-Saxon "I'm making coffee, and reading the paper, painting the house and investing in the stock market" twits and might find this a very foreign concept. They'd probably tend to write things more like, "I hate all of my fellow metro commuters." Or "bof" or if feeling more eloquent, their unique brand of incomprehensible philosophy like "modality is at once a concept and a theory." Ultimately, though, perhaps they'd try to put into words the most eloquent of French sentiments, "Pfft."

Getting the Message Across-- in Innovative and Delicious Ways!

What's the most effective way to send out a national message about breast cancer awareness? Advertising in the metro? Articles in the paper? TV spots? Organize fundraising events? Print up t-shirts?

Mais, non.

Ask all the bakeries to print it on their baguette wrappers.

This week, the bakeries in about half of the districts in Paris all wrapped their baguettes in paper containing a breast cancer awareness message informing women over the age of 50 that they needed breast exams every 2 years. Even more bakeries will participate in the older woman breast cancer awarness campaign next year.

France is serious not only about its baguette consumption, but also about the health and well-being of older women's breasts.

See the link below if you read French and don't believe me:

http://www.paris.fr/portail/accueil/Portal.lut?page_id=1&document_type_id=2&document_id=74545&portlet_id=21961

Attention, Ikea Shoppers

While there is always a feeling of otherness and being an outsider that clings to us foreigners like the odor of a camembert that you had in the fridge 5 days ago, today France was very literal about this figurative outsider status when parisian crowds prevented me from finding a parking place and thus entering the shrine to home nesting that is Ikea.

Perhaps I shouldn't read too much into it, but I'm sure the Montreal Ikea ALWAYS has available parking. I'm also slowly starting to realise that Paris may not be where I will ultimately nest. This is not a decision I made based on the Ikea parking situation, but it makes a neat parallel, doesn't it?

Not only was Ikea crowded, but people were out in droves today for a ridiculous little suburban yardsale (I occasionally visit suburbs, especially since the only people I know with cars tend to live in them, as this the only way to ensure available parking) and they parked in every apartment complex driveway, available patch of roadside space, along the side of the highway and even in some little used lanes. Since apparently we don't really need to use all of them. Not when there's a YARDSALE going on, for heaven's sake. Why not stationner le citroen on the autoroute? Maybe we'll find an inexpensive coffee table. Or some used power tools.

This shows the desperate lack of social activities in the suburbs, I think, that a yardsale had the whole place more parked up today than the city of Berkeley, CA during a Cal game.

All of Ile-de-France seemed bafflingly devoted to going to extreme lengths in the pursuit of home decoration this afternoon. True to my fighting can-do spirit, I gave up and went home.

Ah, well, another thread in life's rich tapestry. Which is probably for sale at the Troc et Puce Yardsale or Ikea as the perfect home accessory.

Being Indifferent

I guess most people are. [Shrug]. Bof.

Pros and Cons

Things that are hard in France:
Opening a bank account
Starting internet service with Free
Finding a well-paying job
Finding an apartment
Making friends
Meeting men
Getting paid for overtime hours
Feeling like you actually live in France when you speak English all day (inevitable when you're an English teacher!)

Things that are easy in France:
Doing money transfers
Filling out French tax forms
Starting internet service with Darty
Getting apartment insurance
Finding a low-paying job
Finding yourself lost in the crowd
Impressing people by complaining
Communicating through sighing and using humourous facial expressions
Feeling a bit like a cartoon character-- or like you're IN a cartoon. Or a surrealist painting. Or the theater of the absurd.