Yesterday was my first Bastille day as a French citizen. And hopefully my last Bastille Day in this apartment.

While I was disappointed that the rain had canceled my picnic plans, I quickly changed gears and decided to invite a few people over to watch the fireworks from chez moi. My shoebox may be tiny, but it does have one fantastic view over Paris and its many monuments. Because I'm so high up, Tuesday night I was able to watch seven different fireworks displays going on in Paris and its nearby suburbs. It was pretty awesome.

And then last night, the Bastille Day fireworks:

Happy Bastille Day as well to all the other new Frenchies out there - Jennifer, Greg, Erica. Am I forgetting anyone else??

C flew back to Paris on Monday, and my time here is winding down as well. This month has gone by fast and I'm amazed by how much we managed to fit in. Like C said, it was like 10 vacations in one. I'm having mixed feelings about going back. But then again, summer in Minnesota always does that to me. I equate MN winters to childbirth - they're so terrible, but what comes afterward is so great that you forget just how awful it was until it comes around again.

One of the things C was most surprised about by Minnesota was that pretty much everyone I know owns their own home. And I have to say, after two years of living in my shoebox, I had definite penis envy of them all. So many rooms! So much space!

As most of you know, I've been saving like a madwoman to buy an apartment, and I reached my original down payment goal in May. After much thinking (and a lot of not having the time to deal with the rabid Parisian housing market), I decided I would have more options if I kept saving for at least another year. One one hand I'm grateful that I've been able to save so much these past two years, but on the other hand, I can't help but feeling like I'm too old to be living like a 1950's maid. Logically I know that it makes no sense to pay a ton of money for a bigger place when, between my déplacements and staying at C's, I only sleep there maybe a week a month anyways. It's a short time sacrifice for a long-term goal. Yada yada yada. But to be honest, it's getting tougher and tougher to deal with the inconveniences of my so-called apartment.

And I'm also feeling a big nostalgic for my family. Being in Denver with my cousins made me realize how lucky we all were to grow up together. And now they're all married and thinking about having kids, and it makes me sad to think that my children wouldn't grow up alongside them. Look at me, I'm sad for kids that may never even exist! How ridiculous is that? I can't be alone in feeling like this though - how do those of you who actually have kids deal with it? Do you go home as often as you can? Or does your French family fill that void for you?

I'm sure all of this will pass once I'm actually back in Paris - I've just had a lot more time to think these past few days without having C around to entertain me (the latest was having to explain what the difference was between "laid" and "laid-back". Ha!)

C & I have gotten into the habit of watching American TV together once or twice a week. It's good for his English and it gives me my TV fix for the week. And as I've mentioned before, it also has the added bonus of being culturally informative. While he may not yet understand why Americans eat ice cream straight out of the carton, he at least knows that if he ever sees me doing it, he should either back slowly out of the room or come bearing flowers. Or both.

This past week, we ended up watching the Valentine's episodes of a few different shows. I could see he was confused about all the V-day talk and was just not quite grasping the importance of it in the US. So I pressed pause and explained what a big holiday (for better or for worse) it actually was. He was pretty surprised and exclaimed "You should've told me before!"

It's true, I hadn't really said anything - I was actually sort of looking forward to spending a low-key day together before I left on another work trip. I bought the fixings for an American-style brunch, sugar cookies (his fav) and then homemade pizzas at night, but that was about it. And to be honest, I'd spent so much time thinking about what to get him for Christmas and then for his 30th birthday that I just wasn't ready for another big holiday so soon. Plus Le Figaro said that only 18% of the 10,000 people they'd polled planned on celebrating V-day. So I was quite surprised when C took this new bit of knowledge very seriously. People, he got flowers AND a gift. In a continuation of his never-ending quest to make sure I'm not cold, he went out and bought quite possibly the thickest blanket I have ever seen. It is ginormous and I swear to God it weighs about 10 kg. I am hoping it will not suffocate me.

But because my apartment shoebox is so tiny, my lovely new present ended up sitting near the oven. And as I was oh-so-carefully trying to lift the pizza off the pan and onto the counter so I could cook C's pizza, the aluminum foil broke. Dumping my lovingly-prepared, heart-shaped pizza all over its shiny, new whiteness. And then all the sauce & cheese & fixings slid off the blanket and on to my beige carpet.

I only wish I was kidding.

C has not yet seen The Crazy, so I decided against freaking out and instead just set about cleaning up the giant mess. The crust was surprisingly still in one piece- but with no veggies or sauce left, I couldn't really make another pizza. I did however have plenty of cheese left, so I sprinkled some powdered garlic on the crust and covered it with mozzarella and what do you know - it turned out to be the best darn cheesy bread I've ever made. I actually liked it better than C's pizza.
The duvet however did not fare so well, and is now covered in orange splotches - anyone have any magical advice for removing tomato sauce stains?

9/9/9

In addition to it being my six year Franciversary, that means it's also one full-year that I've been living in my shoebox. While I realize this kind of living situation isn't for everyone, it's served its purpose for me. I added up the figures yesterday and found out that by living here, I saved 5400€ on rent last year (or about 4000€, if you count the money I lost in the apartment scam). But that's still not a negligible sum!

I also went through my finances and found that I'm over half-way to having saved the amount I'll need to put a payment down on an apartment. It'll be about another year before I'll have the full amount, and I'm of course waiting on my citizenship answer before I make any real decisions, but it's still exciting to see that things are moving along, and that these sacrifices haven't been for rien.

This weekend brings to close the annual Parisian exodus to the coasts of France. Everyone and their dog here seems to have a vacation house in Bretagne, Normandy or the Côte d'Azur, and they flock to it like ants to honey for the entire month of August.

Leaving the non-touristy parts of Paris gloriously empty. It's been fabulous.

I'm high enough up that it's not normally very noisy, but I do hear the every day traffic (including those annoying scooters) and random drunk men spouting off at whoever walks by. These past two weeks though have been silent. Absolutely silent. Quiet enough that I actually woke up one morning and thought it was pouring rain. I had big plans for the day, and I lay in bed cursing the French weathermen and their obvious lack of skills. Until I pulled back my curtains and was blinded by the sun and the brightest blue sky I'd ever seen. Yes folks, I live in the middle of the city, but it was so quiet that I'd confused the fountain down below for a downpour.

So I decided to take a video the other night while the sun was setting, to show my view and just how quiet it really was (and yes, you can hear the fountain in the background). It's a bit wobbly since I was taking it one-handed while talking to Crystal on the phone, but you'll the Sacré Coeur, the dome of Invalides, Saint Sulpice (I believe), La Défense, the Eiffel Tower, lots of French rooftops and the Montparnasse Tower. And you'll notice how pink & orange the sky is behind the Eiffel Tower. The rest of Paris is normally blue/greyish as the sun sets, but I'm treated to an absolutely amazing sunset behind the Eiffel Tower pretty much every night.

Reason #541 I stay in my crappy apartment

Because this is the view I have while brushing my teeth every night:

Trickle down effects of la Crise

I live in the 5th, one of the yuppie, pricier neighborhoods of Paris. My particular part of the neighborhood is filled with mothers who lunch and who yoga while their foreign nannies take care of children with nicer clothes than my own. The building I live in has 7 floors, with a family owning each of the floors, plus at least two chambres de bonne on the 8th floor.

As you all know, that's where I live. And up until now (minus the shower-peeing neighbor), it's been really quiet and peaceful up here. Maybe five out of the other 20 or so rooms had occupants. Besides me and the nanny next door, the others were all children of families living in the building. There are at least two families here with 8 children each, so it must be nice to be able to put the older ones somewhere and give them some space of their own at the same time.

However in the past few months, that's all changed. There has a been a flurry of workman going in and out on a regular basis. (And unfortunately these workmen have a penchant for starting work while I'm still asleep). But there have been at least five other rooms that have been done completely up and will now be rented out, which I take as a sign that belts are being tightened for a lot of these families, who up until now used them as storage rooms. They don't have showers, so they will likely be rented out for about 400€ per month - which can be a nice extra chunk of change at the end of each month. As a side note, it's funny to think how 400€ per month can get you a decent house in certain parts of France, but yet in Paris, it'll only get you a tiny room with no toilet or shower.

The other thing that struck me was talking with the guardien about some of the future inhabitants of those rooms. One of them is an older Russian woman, who was so grateful to have found that room. He said she was almost crying when she saw it and that couldn't believe how "big" it was. And that she was going on and on about how much nicer it was than anything she had in her country. It's funny isn't it, how it's all about perspective? My mother and brother really want to come over, but I've been putting it off because I don't want them to see where I live. I know they'd freak out and think I was living dans la misère. They wouldn't understand that it was a choice I made in order to put money aside for a down payment on something much nicer. But yet what they would consider awful living conditions seems like almost a dream to this poor Russian woman.

It's a strange world we live in. It reminds me of the first time I actually realized how lucky I was to have been born in the US (which, coincidentally enough, happened during a trip to Russia). It's all luck of the draw - we have no say in where we are born. And while my family was definitely not rich by American standards, we had it pretty good compared a lot of other families out there in the world. And I'm glad I'm reminded of that every once in a while - it helps me keep everything in perspective and reminds me to be grateful for what I do have and everything I've been able to do.

Which is a good thing, especially as I try to psyche myself up to pack my suitcase for yet another work trip to Bretagne with my condescending co-worker.

While my actual apartment may suck, I love everything else about where I live. The location, the safety of the neighborhood, the shopping, the easy access to all the airports/train stations, the close proximity to the rhumrhum bar (hey, it's all about priorities, right?).

But the thing that I will miss most when I (finally) leave is the view. I love being able to see the Eiffel Tower out of my window every day. And I am treated to a beautiful sunset pretty much every night. Watching the sun set over the roof tops of Paris - it doesn't get much better than that.

Let's play "Spot the Blogger"

So I happy to announce that I am officially out of the funk that I've been in for the past week! I was over-whelmed by everything that had to be done and all the changes occurring and often felt like I was just barely keeping my head above the water. But the large majority of the craziness is now over and I will finally be able to get back into my old routine.

To celebrate the end of the insanity (and my last night in the chambre de bonne with the wonderful view), I invited an extraordinarily large number of people to my "Ever wondered how many people can fit in 15m2" party, and then prayed that they would not all show up at the same time. The fact that the RER B was on strike (yet again) kept some people away, others were out with the gastro (poor Antipo!) and yet others did just not show up (*ahem* fingers pointing to a certain FWAB). There ended up being 15 or 16 of us there, so roughly one person per square meter. It was a tight fit as you can see from the pictures, but a ton of fun. It was also a surprise for me to realize that most of the people I know in Paris didn't really know each other, so it was cool that everyone finally got to meet. So thanks to everyone who came, I had a great time!!

Sometimes it's so beautiful it hurts

So here I am in Paris, at long last. It's strange, it doesn't even feel real. I'm having trouble writing because my mind is spinning with the million different things I need to get done.

The chambre de bonne is nice but about the size of a shoe box (like I expected). It's going to take me a while to figure out how to organize things. But on a positive note, living in a small space just means I have less to clean, right?? And the view from my window is unbeatable - there are worse things than looking at the Eiffel Tower all day : And another shot from last night, just before it lit up: