This is the door to my apartment building.

I'm staying behind these doors this morning to do some laundry. Remember, Connie, how long it takes to wash a load of clothes? I may be finished by dinner time.
My private tour guide was a no-show yesterday. I gave up after waiting 30 minutes and explored the Marais on my own. I happened upon the wholesale district - stores full of different styles of one item (purses, jewelry, shoes, etc.)on display and the floor of the store littered with boxes containing these items by the gross, I suppose. I was amused by the signs on the doors, one in French and one in English; the one in English said: Wholesale only, no detail.

I promised Cindy Z. I'd tell her all about Paris fashion, that being a special interest of hers. So, here goes:
Everything you ever knew or read about Paris fashion on the street is now wrong.

Old Rule: Don't take your jeans to Paris; no one there wears jeans. Wrong. EVERYONE under the age of 30 wears nothing but jeans; not so much with women d'un certaine age, but I've seen enough of my age group wearing them that I don't feel conspicuous in mine. I've seen every possible style ever invented - skinny leg, flared leg, high waist, low waist, obscenely low waist...

Old Rule: Parisians wear high-heeled pumps, never comfortable shoes, let alone tennis shoes. Wrong. EVERYONE is wearing tennis shoes in every imaginable style. If you've noticed the variety of tennis shoes at Macy's, multiply that exponentially and you'll be close to the number of different looks here. I was especially intrigued by some bronze hightops; they looked a lot like my baby shoes Mom had bronzed, only on steroids.

Old Rule: Everyone here wears scarves. Actually, that one hasn't changed. They still do, and I've discovered there is a practical reason for it. Having gone out a couple of times without a jacket and realizing, too late, that it was cooler than I thought, I stopped at a souvenir shop that sells cheap scarves and bought one for 5 euros. Wrapping that thing around your neck a couple of times makes a jacket unnecessary, and you can unwind it as the weather warms up.

Old Rule: Parisiens are fashionistas. Wrong. Maybe it's the quartier I'm staying in, but I have done a lot of walking around other areas, and it's my impression that they're dressing down. Except for a couple of exceptions in the St. Germain area, most people are dressed quite casually; they really don't look any different than people do back home, except there aren't as many fat people. Which brings me to my last observation for today:

Old Rule: French people are all skinny. Wrong again! They're puttin' on the pounds just like the rest of us. Mon Dieu! What's 'appening to ze French? They're becoming us!

SOMEDAY: My door will look like this:

mon appartement Parisien

l'appartement Parisien

As you see in the photos (I hope), the apartment is austere, but very adequate. It's amazing how much storage the French can fit into these tiny apartments. You can't see it, because it's all built into the walls. It's probably the most comfortable and efficient apartment I've had yet, but there's one disappointment, and it's a big one - the windows face other windows across the small court and looking down, all I see is the roof of a small building that has been built into the courtyard. When I saw the photos in the ad, I could see that there were the tall windows that I love, but I was surprised to see that they were nearly covered by curtains - now I know why. If I would ever learn to pay attention to my instincts, I'd never make any mistakes!
The t.v. gets only one channel, news which repeats the same stories over and over incessantly. If I don't learn French by the time I leave here, there's no hope for me! I can tell you every detail of the Maddie McCann "kidnapping."
Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day, although I couldn't tell until I got outside. I attended a free concert in the parc Vincennes, a place I'd never visited before. It's a beautiful venue for concerts, among a large variety of gardens, ponds, sculptures, etc. Afterward I had a so-so dinner at le petit Bofinger. I don't think it lives up to its big brother, but it was there and so was I.
The fog in my brain finally lifted yesterday. I had been going through the motions for two days before that, but I had trouble getting my bearings and ended up walking miles and miles unintentionally. Wish I had thought to put on my pedometer. Yesterday everything seemed to come into focus and I felt comfortable and at home.
I'll fill you in about Paris fashions another time. Adieu.

Is anyone out there?

I seem to be having trouble sending and receiving email. Krysta sent me an email that I didn't receive and Connie wrote a comment on my blog that I didn't receive. (The reason I know this is because I called Connie, and sent an email to Krysta which she replied to and I did receive the reply) I'm not sure what the problem is. If anyone has an idea, let me know, somehow. :( Maybe you can reply but not send using my email address. I don't know and I'm not techno-savvy enough to figure it out. See, you had me overrated, didn't you! Anyway, if you've tried to send me an email and I haven't responded, I'm sorry. If I get this figured out, I'll let you know. Marilyn, do you have any experts that might know how to fix this problem?

Someday: I'll know how to do my own troubleshooting.

Ruminations at the Departure Gate

I am cool. I can now be counted among those who sit at the departure gate “working” on their computers. At this time it’s a middle school girl and me.
No great problems so far - except for the 15 minutes of fear I felt waiting to see if they were going to toss all my toiletries. I’m sure the SAS website said 6 oz. was the limit, but the sign in line said 3 oz. I got away with it , anyway. (It sure takes a long time to put everything back on after you go through security - shoes, jackets, etc.) Post-script on toiletries: I didn’t make it through security the second time. The agent wouldn’t let me take three containers through that were over 3 oz. I pleaded with her to let me find smaller containers to transfer at least some of it, which she agreed to, but all I could find were some paper cups. At least I saved enough to get by until I can replace it.
The suit didn’t work this time - I didn’t get my upgrade to business class. I even offered up all my Mileage Plus points, but since United went bankrupt, they aren’t valued very highly. The agent asked me if I had any SAS points, which, of course, I don’t. At which time I asked myself the same question - I always fly SAS -why don’t I have any SAS points? Next thing on my list of things to do! If I wanted to buy an upgrade, I could have done that - $300 for economy extra (I wasn’t sure how much extra you get for $300) or $3000 for business class. It makes my previous upgrades seem even better than I had appreciated! I passed on the affordable upgrade - it’s business class or nothing for me!
I’m having a glass of Pinot Grigio while I wait to board - the best anywhere the middle-aged waitress assured me. There’s nothing sadder than a middle-aged waitress. But for the grace of God… However, her chin looks better than mine. Maybe she used her tips for a little surgery, y’think?
I got carded! The sign said, “We ID all guests.” They weren’t kidding! The dark-skinned (get my meaning?) waiter explained, “Because you look younger.” “Younger than what?” I asked. I wanted to say, “Younger than Methuselah?” but I didn’t think he’d get it. Wrong religion. We lift off in a half-hour. I’ll be landing in Copenhagen in 9 hours (I hope).
Going to Paris is a 20 hour trip. Hmmm, doesn’t seem that far away.

Someday: I’ll be able to afford a business class ticket.

Brrr!

Check out the new link I just added: Le Studio. This is a real-time webcam set up in the courtyard of a Tex-Mex restaurant in the Marais. Today, the 24th of August, everyone is bundled in parkas and hoodies! I think I'd better start throwing my summer clothes out of the suitcase and replacing them with woolies. I wonder if they have "Indian summers" in France.
This webcam updates every two minutes. If you watch some morning about 10:00, you might see Sharon Brune having a kir at one of those tables. :)

Merci mille fois!

The LOOK of my blog is finished, thanks to all the help I received from Krysta - how can I ever thank you? You've opened up a whole new world to me that I never could have predicted a short time ago! :D
Yet to come, with Krysta's help, will be links to such fascinating sites as the Paris Pause-pipi Guide. Yep, it's just what it sounds like - a map that locates every one of those futuristic "Jetson-style" toilets on the street in every arrondissement in Paris! Never again will I be afraid of having a second biere at lunch!