This year seems to be all about transitions. The biggest one coming up is leaving our nest of 3 years for a new one. A new opportunity to re arrange the bookshelf, an opportunity to put new holes in new walls (my favorite part) and for things like finding an excuse to buy wallpaper. Our little nest in southwest Paris has served us well, but as we grow and become big kids, a step up only seemed natural.
As a sidenote, can I just say that apartment hunting in Paris is FAR from easy… and it’s basically a full time job. Landlords look only at the paper – the salary – and not where you work, what you do or who you are as a person or if they just get a good feeling when they meet you (Ok, *ideals*, but it would be cool if they didn’t JUST look at the 7 digits in your contract, right?). Certain statuses in France are not favored, cough, like the one my boyfriend works under in the cinema industry, add being a foreigner into the mix and it makes for one complicated application in the eyes of the everyday real estate agent, and no matter what your situation they still want guarantors that live and work on French soil that are not retired and that are clearly prosperous bread winners that own property (which will forever blow my mind in a city so rich in culture and with quite a population of immigrants).
Bref, we now see the light at the end of the tunnel could not be more anxious to discover the larger Paris just beyond the 75’s limits and still so spoiled by public transport. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Paris has become seemingly smaller, while becoming literally bigger. The borders are stretching and people are venturing even farther out from Ile de la Cité for various reasons. To top it off, I feel like within the city limits is becoming more and more unbearable to live comfortably. Times have certainly changed, and even good jobs aren’t enough for my generation for the price of living in some cities, even à deux. But alas, I’m not complaining.
I often ask myself how people do it. Having a certain idea of what people earn in the industry that I work in, I am still trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Where do these people get the funding and guarantors needed to rent these humongous apartments in the city? I guess these people are winning at the big game of Monopoly.
To say the least, I’m just proud to be making ends meet on my very own in this big bad city that is my home.
After a month on the stateside, I am finally back home in Paris. Despite jet lag and my obsession for immediately putting every single thing back in order, I’ve got some time to relax and breath. Going home to Colorado is never completely relaxing, so lucky we had some beach time in Hawaii. It’s nice to feel bored sometimes.
Whenever I’m flying back over the Atlantic, often a flight filled with first-timers to Paris, I think about how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful city. This life I’ve created certainly seems unreal at times. I also wonder what I had in me that made it happen. Thank goodness it did, because I wouldn’t have it any other way. Perhaps that’s why it hits me when I am so anxious to get back to my stuff. My books. My frame-filled walls. My homegirls. My teacups. My blue couch. Am I ridiculous?
And of course, with some fresh flowers in the room, I can really feel summer in Paris has finally arrived. However, now it’s back to the real world, and a transitional month and the speed really picking up right about now.