Sunday! The day of rest here in France, when pretty much everything is closed, I finally get to sleep in, and even get some time to update this blog. Also, this song, but that doesn’t have anything to do with anything, except that I love it very much.
This week has been absolutely crazy. We’ve had to basically get our lives set up in Paris, and the first priority was to look for apartments. We also had a bunch of orientation meetings, and an oral exam to place us in a section for the intensive French course that starts next week.
The apartment search was… stressful. I went to the MICEFA office to look through their list of apartments, but they were a little disorganized. I called a few landlords there, but I mostly had to leave voicemails, and was left with no apartments to visit. So I went back to the hostel and began my search online. I took a deep breath and just called up every single landlord/agent whose ad interested me. Doing this in English doesn’t come easily to me, so you can imagine how it went in French. But after a few hours of that I had some places to visit.
I visited 2 studios on Thursday. The first was in the 16th arrondissement, a very upscale, very quiet part of town, and it was kind of far from where I’ll be going to school. I met the real estate agent (agent immobilier, if you were curious) at the building. (Unless I indicate otherwise, all conversations are in French. Yay me.)
“What happened to your face?” Check! The first person to ask me in France. (I have a red birthmark on my cheek and I guess it looks like a scratch or something at first glance. I get asked about it in New York on the subway, on the street… I guess men think it’s a conversation starter…)
We talked about the apartment for a little, and then he told me that since I was a student, in order to rent the apartment I’d need a guarantor, and for that I’d need to open a bank account here.
“But… don’t you need proof of a permanent address to open a bank account?”
“Well, yes. It’s a little complicated.”
Catch-22 complicated, yeah!
Anyway, the building smelled like my grandmother’s building in Antwerp, which was comforting. We went into the studio, which was on the ground floor. It was actually quite nice— one room, but not too small. It had a huge window overlooking a garden, a mini kitchen (by this I mean a mini fridge, a stovetop, a sink and a microwave) and a small couch that pulled out into a bed.
After we’d gone over the details, the agent asked me where I was from. As it turns out, his daughter had been a bartender at a bar on Smith Street for 2 years. We talked about how Brooklyn had changed since the last time he’d been there (1986!). He asked me if I knew Roberta’s Pizza, which I didn’t. He said it’s the best pizza in the world. I guess I have to try it now, if it still exists, hah.
I thought about taking the studio, but I figured for the price I could probably find something in a more central location.
That evening I visited the second apartment. It was on Boulevard St. Germain, which was great. Lively, centrally located, and absolutely beautiful. We walked through a lovely courtyard and went up to the 5th floor in the tiniest elevator I’ve ever seen—we were just 2 people and we were squashed together—but it was an elevator! Elevators are just not that common in Paris buildings. After going through a few more doors, we got to the apartment. There was a long hallway with a bathroom on the left, and then the room. There was a full kitchen with a normal sized fridge and an OVEN, but… nothing else!
“There’s no bed?” I asked.
“Ah no, it’s not furnished…”
I was very sad, because aside from that tiny detail, the apartment was perfect.
“It didn’t say that in the ad,” I said.
“Yes… I didn’t put it in the ad because I knew I’d have less interest if I did…”
Fine, understandable…If I was staying for the entire year I would have maybe, maybe considered buying a mattress and living in an otherwise empty apartment, but I told her I was a student studying here for just one semester and she understood.
After calling so many landlords and real estate agents and getting nowhere, I started to feel really frazzled. But finally I found a third apartment to visit in the 4th arrondisement, right in between Le Marais and the Latin Quarter. The location was even better than the second apartment! It’s right on a metro line that gets me to school in 5 stops with no transfers (again, quite rare), and on nice days I can basically walk. There’s also a bus route that goes right to school. It’s on the fourth floor, with no elevator. In France, as in the rest of Europe, the bottom floor of a building is called the ground floor (marked G in an elevator), while the next floor is the 1st, etc, so technically it’s the 5th floor.
There was a couch that folds out into a bed, bathroom, mini kitchen, desk and chair, and some shelves. There was even a TV, and wifi was already set up! I won’t even lie here, not having to struggle to get wifi? That’s a huge draw. Despite being literally in the center of Paris, the neighborhood is quiet. It’s even above a wine and cheese shop. That’s all they sell. Wine and cheese. Please, be more French.
I think you can tell where this is going. I signed a contract, and I move in tomorrow!! I can’t tell you what a weight off my shoulders this is… it’s sort of surreal, actually! I’m so happy I got an apartment before our intensive French class begins tomorrow. Searching an apartment with class to attend and homework to do… that’s a lot. I know some people from my program still haven’t found housing and I truly wish them the best of luck in finding an apartment in the next 4 days. After that we’re no longer booked into the hostel. But MICEFA doesn’t let people go homeless. Or so they say, muahaha. (Juuust kidding.)
Here’s a photo from my new neighborhood! I’ll put up more and also some photos of the apartment once I’m settled in.
