Lazy Rainy Day

No Better Type of Sunday
It's cool and rainy in Brooklyn today which is fine by me. I'm enjoying sitting in my apartment, reading the Sunday NY Times, waiting for the Giants game. I haven't done much exciting since I've been back. I'm enjoying the simple things: eating bagels for breakfast, walking around my neighborhood, working as little as possible. Geppie was supposed to visit this weekend but canceled at the last second due to his mom getting sick.

Taking the Scenic Route

To Golf Practice...
It was epic. Four modes of transportation, traversing 9 Arondissements. Just to go to the driving range. Why? Why not. It's Saturday and I had nothing better to do. Besides, I got to ride a Paris tram, which I'd not done before. Click on the map for a closer look.

The Vagaries of Coffee Pricing

Someone Help Me...
I always order my coffee the same exact way: "un cafe creme, s'il vous plait." That's how I like it, that's the phrase I know - it never varies. What does vary, however, is the price and the quality. Strangely, both can vary significantly in the same restaurant from one day to the next. There's a cafe nearby that generally makes a good, cheap cup. There's an old couple who run the place and they sometimes have their dog there, roaming around. Last Monday, while playing hooky, I got a cafe creme there for 1.20 Euros. I made a mental note, things are rarely so cheap here.

Today, for some reason, they were exactly triple in price and weren't as well-made. So, what could account for this? Monday vs Saturday? Drinking at the coffee bar vs drinking at a table? The old man who served me Monday vs the young guy who served me today? No idea. I have learned that the price of things vary if you order them to go vs sit in the restaurant. However, in this case, I will probably never know. Just another variation on a theme: things are overly complicated and confusing here. A restaurant should charge one price for a cup of coffee, whether I order it on Monday or Saturday, whether I take it away, drink it there at the bar or pour it over the head of some overdressed Parisian sitting nearby in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Hooky, American Style

A How To, Step by Step
Today is Labor Day, but obviously not in Paris. My French colleagues never miss one of their own holidays, but expect me to work on both mine and theirs. I wasn't having it - I simply rebelled. Right after I woke up, I sent in an email about feeling ill and went back to sleep. I'm an expert at hooky - pay attention. First things first, quick shower? No, never - no showering while you play hooky, that's bad luck.

So Much for Mandarin Class....

My Teacher Has Fled.....
We kept missing each other, she'd be in Beijing or Id' be in Singapore - but I always looked forward to the continuation of my Mandarin classes. Well, as oft happens to young ladies, her boyfriend broke her heart and she immediately returned to China, tears in her wake.

She explained all to me in email in her broken English. Will she come back? Is she already back? Who knows. One thing is for sure - no Mandarin classes in my immediate future. Time to look for a new teacher.

How The Other Half Lives.....

Much Better Than I, For Sure
One of our colleagues invited us over to her new apartment for dinner. She moved here from Moscow to work on the project. Apparently Moscow is way more expensive than Paris. She is constantly amazed at how cheap things are in Paris. So, she probably brought her considerable Russian salary with her. Her apartment is on an inside courtyard with a small yard and fountain.

One of Those Strange Things

Or, Just Different....
Every day when I get to work the place is a mess. Unlike in the US, where the cleaning crew comes in at night to clean up the office, here in France they clean during working hours. Matter of fact, I usually beat them to work. I throw away my morning coffee cup on top of yesterday's trash. They arrive around 9am and clean as you are working. You have to pick up the stuff on your desk so they can wipe it down. You have to pick up your feet as they swab the deck. You do this whether you are on the phone or in the middle of a meeting.

It's only a minor annoyance but things like this make me wonder why. This is similar to other experiences I've had. Restaurants open their doors at 9am for breakfast and take your order but nothing is prepped, so you wait forever for your food. Well, what do you expect when the cooks arrived at 9am, or sometimes later? First explanation that pops to mind is that the French are lazy, but that's an emotional reaction, not an analysis. Second explanation - workers rights are paramount in France. Why should the cleaning crews and restaurant workers come in earlier than the rest of us? Equality hand in hand with inefficiency. Of course, there are exceptions. There would be an uprising if, upon arriving at the boulangerie for the morning baguette, Parisians found the bakers pouring the flour into the mixing bowls.