The Dangers of Open Windows

So let’s see where I left off last time. Sorry it’s been a while since the last update. I don’t have the internet quite figured out in my apartment so I am limited to using it at school, and I haven’t had much free time in the last few days to do anything significant online other than check my facebook and email quickly. So Saturday morning I went in to Mr. Dressner’s office and signed the paperwork and paid the security deposit and picked up the keys and code to my apartment. Then I went back to the hotel, got my luggage and took a taxi to my new place. The taxi driver laughed a little when he lifted my suitcases. He said they were heavy. I said, no kidding, when you pack for 6 months it weighs a lot. When we got to my building he said, I hope you have an elevator. I told him not to worry, I am very strong. But at the same time I was thinking that 6 flights of stairs was not going to be a lot of fun with suitcases that weighed as much as mine.

The problem is that, not only is it 6 flights of stairs, but they aren’t stairs like you are probably imagining right now, they aren’t typical American stairs. Stairs in Parisian apartment buildings are quasi-spiral stairs, and since most buildings date back at least a hundred years, the stairs are equally as old. They are steep, narrow and unlevel. So imagine how much trouble getting two large heavy suitcases up 6 flights of regular stairs and multiply that by like, 50, and you can start to get an idea of what I had to go through. I had forgotten that the last time I was in Paris, I had a roommate and we helped each other up the stairs with our bags which was much easier than going it alone. But anyway, I took all my carry-on luggage up first. That was, in and of itself tiring, since I get winded simply walking up that many stairs. So then the real fun began. Trying to get the big boys up the stairs. I thought the best idea was to move them up one floor at a time. That worked, but boy was it slow going. I’m lifting these very heavy and cumbersome bags and trying to go up the uneven stairs very quickly so I don’t have to hold the bag longer than necessary. Considering how many flights I had to climb I think it is pretty impressive that I only almost died two or three times. My heart was already pounding so hard from exertion that I don’t think it could speed up any more when my foot slipped off one of the narrow stairs and I came very close to ending up at the bottom with my giant suitcase on top of me. By the time I made it to the 7th floor I was shaking and about to throw up. Altitude sickness I think. The air is much thinner this high up. It was either that or possibly my lack of cardio stamina...

In the end, after much struggling and sweating, I arrived “chez moi”. I really like my little flat. It’s not large by American standards, but then, almost nothing in Paris is large by American standards. We Americans are very spoiled because we have so much land to spread out on. Europeans are much more used to close quarters. On a side note, I apologize if my sentences or wording is weird sometimes. I am thinking in french so much of the time that when I am writing in english I sometimes end up translating something from how the french would say it, and that usually isn’t the same way I normally would. So back to the apartment. Anyway it’s not big, but it is much nicer than a studio, which is mostly what is available for individual students. It’s plenty of space for me and has basically everything that I need to be comfortable (assuming that I can get the internet figured out). There are a few things that I need, like regular sized bowls and glasses, some coat hangers, etc. but those are easy enough to come by at a Monoprix or BHV, one of the most amazing stores ever that I will have to tell you about in detail later.

Saturday afternoon I spent getting unpacked and organized. I basically dumped everything into a pile in the floor and went from there. I had whittled the pile down to just a few odds and ends and decided I deserved a break since I was exhausted. Now I had opened up all the windows to air the place out because it smelled a little like fresh paint, and because it was a sunny afternoon and a bit warm. I lay down to take a brief rest with the afternoon sun slanting in and the breeze blowing through. I had been laying there for a few minutes and I went to roll over, and as I did I opened my eyes a bit. It took a minute to register what I was seeing, because there in the middle of my room, sniffing the remaining items in the pile, was a big black cat. When I moved he looked up, with his huge green eyes, but he didn’t leave, just continued to check everything out. I got up to get my camera because it was so ridiculous I wanted to show you, but as soon as I did he jumped easily out the window and back onto the roof where I suppose he came from. So that is when I learned not to leave your windows open when you are sleeping if you live on the top floor of the building. It'll take me a few posts to get you all up to date, but this is so long I figure I better stop before you all fall asleep. A bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey