PART II: Settling-in...

The “Young and Happy” hostel was the perfect place to begin our stay in Paris. A small 4 story building, filled with passing backpackers traveling all over Europe, it wasn’t very expensive and we had a room for ourselves complete with a bunk bed, a table, two chairs, a small sink and mirror and a window looking out on to the rue Mouffetard. It was perfect!

After dropping off our stuff and quick phone call to our families back home informing them we had arrived ok, we were out to explore! I have to say that Paris in February is not exactly the city of lights! It was pretty gray and chilly which for us Mexicans meant it was shockingly dark and freezing cold! But that didn’t stop us from going out.

The rue Mouffetard is a small pebbled street crowed with small shops and restaurants, tons of little pubs, record shops, crepes makers, small hotels and even a little garden right off one street. It is right in the middle of the Latin Quarter and therefore the big universities are only blocks away, The Sorbonne, Henry IV preparatory, Jussieu University, just to name a few. It is a lively street, filled with people all the time: tourists, students, window shoppers, artists, musicians, and the entire street is just filled with a bubbly energy that you can just feel as you stroll along. To this day, I feel it is the perfect place to land when you have just “parachuted” in Paris, as we had just done.

The Pantheon, which will forever be one of my favorite buildings in Paris, was the first monument we came across on our first stroll in Paris. We literally just bumped into it… a simple turn to the left and suddenly, bang! There it stood before us, in all its force and splendor. We didn’t go inside but we followed it all the way down to the Avenue Saint Michel, one of Paris’ main avenues and a great place for shopping. Funny thing is, now that I know the city a lot better, I realize how my impressions of Paris and France and general were shaped by those first few hours. I though all streets in France (and Europe in general) were exactly like the rue Mouffetard, I thought all shopping in Paris consisted of incredible shops like the ones you find on Ave St Michel. I thought our stay in Paris was going to be all incredibly interesting and fun and exciting and light as these first few instants were… I had quite a wake up call coming.

That night, A wanted to rest a bit while I couldn’t stay in place. I had finished reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which I had started on the plane and was just dying to go outside. I wanted to see the Seine river. I had heard so much of it, seen it in all those movies and just couldn’t wait until the next day. I had no idea where it was situated from our hostel but I figured I could just walk and try and find out. I decided to go in the opposite direction we had walked earlier that day, and just kept going. I tried to ask for directions a couple of times but “Seine” in French is pronounced “cene” and my English pronunciation was only met with questioning looks. Since I could not say a single word in French, I decided to leave it alone and keep walking.

Like most everything that happens in my life… I just bumped into it. No warning, no sounds, no signs… just suddenly there it was…. Dark, cold waters, shining under the Paris twinkling lights… I was already over excited at my discovery (and my amazing orientation talent) when suddenly I turned my head to the left and was hit with the startling beauty of the Notre Dame cathedral all lighten up and floating in the shimmering waters. I remember walking over to the main entrance and there wasn't a single person there except for a violinist player that was braving the cold and playing a really melancholic tune at the doors of the Cathedral. Never again have I see Notre Dame so empty and I think that moment was one that will forever be inscribed in my memory and will forever be associated with the city of Paris for me.

Settling in in Paris proved to be much less fun than A and I had initially thought. We arrived the next day at the office and met with those who would be our co-workers and colleagues for the next six months. First and foremost, there was the “Consejero”, the Main Counselor of the Trade Commission (the department to which we were assigned). Then, there were his three deputies: Vicks, Jacks and Ricks. To complete the Mexican Trade Commission team stationed in Paris, were Sicks (the office’s accountant) and Gicks the Counselor’s PA. Each of us interns was assigned to one deputy to whom we would provide aide and support and their respective fields. I was assigned to Jacks (Furniture, textile and handcrafts), A was assigned to Vicks (food market) and F, the third happily elected intern whom we were meeting for the first time was assigned to Ricks (Auto parts and Chemicals).

My first thought of F was that she was so petite and lovely. I’m 5’4 and she is much smaller than me. Her curly black hair and large brown eyes give way to a friendly face and we immediately hit it off. She explained to us that she was already staying with a couple of friends of hers whom she’d met during an exchange program at the University of Chicago the year before. Friend 1 and Friend 2 (her roommates) were renting a two bedroom apartment in the Latin Quarter and subletting a bed to her which meant that A and I would have to find a place that we could afford the two of us as F would not be living with us.

That day, we experienced our first set back in Paris. Gicks helped us call different adds in the paper that A and I had selected the night before. We had decided that we wanted to stay in the Latin Quarter, as it seemed like such a great place and only 5 subway stations away from the office. Up to that point we had been oblivious to the fact that housing in Paris is not only difficult for the ordinary Frenchman, let alone a couple of foreign girls that didn’t even speak the language, it's nearly impossible. The Counselor had told us that the embassy would provide us with reference letters and bank accounts, two musts in order to find a place, but even with these excellent “references” we were met with no after no. Either the places we had selected had already been rented or the owners didn’t wish to rent to foreigners for such a short period of time.

The next day, after several more refusals we went to visit a real estate agency that had agreed to show us a place not far from the office. We followed the agent through a couple of narrow streets not far from the rue St Denis which during the night is populated by ladies of not so good reputation but that didn’t matter. We had to find a place because the Young & Happy hostel has a 1-week maximum stay policy and we were already in our fourth day. The apartment was our first contact with a very popular housing solution in Paris: a studio. Basically a studio is a room that is kitchen, bathroom, living room and bedroom all in one. The one we visited was a newly renovated micro small room on the sixth floor of a building with no elevator. It was barely larger than a walk-in closet and although the kitchenette consisted of a two-plate stove, a mini bar refrigerator and a minuscule sink, the room was still “large” enough to hold a hiddabed, a small water closet (the real thing!) and a small shower. I could see A, me and our four pieces of luggage would take up the entire place just by standing in the center of the room, but it was the best we had found so far. We asked what was the procedure for renting and there we were hit with the novelty that in Paris, you have to pay three months upfront as a guarantee PLUS the month’s rent in advance PLUS the agency’s finders fee (one month rent)! Considering that rent consisted of 650 euro per month… we were way out of our budget.

That night, A and I sat down at our little table in the youth hostel and drew out a Plan A and a Plan B. Plan A was to call our parents the next day to see if they would be able to wire us some money (fat chance) and to call back the agency and see if they could hold the place for us until we received the money (considering how the housing market is in Paris, we didn’t stand a big chance). Plan B was to use the money we had left to change our return tickets back home for the end of the week. After we drew up both our plans we looked out our window at the street below us and both of us burst out in tears. Tears of fear and defeat but most of all tears of frustration of feeling that we had come all this way only to be defeated at the first obstacle.

And that's when we met M…..

The Mexican Trade Commission team stationed in Paris (2002)

Fned.

Read Part III.