Paris

Walking around on a random Thursday afternoon, i look around and find it hard to believe i ever used to live here. i spent 16 months living and working in Paris, in fact it was living there that i started this blog. it wasnt a very happy year, and i always knew i was in sort of a holding pattern, waiting for the next academic year to begin so i could start my PhD in England. in attempts to save up for my studies, i had very little money and lived out in a dodgy banlieu. Accordingly, i rarely ventured out after dark. i hated my neighbourhood, and i hated my job even more. i found the work environment stiffling and overly rigid. in the begining, in an effort to make a good impression, i set out to work harder than my colleagues, putting in full effort and asking for overtime. After some weeks, the boss took me aside and said i was setting a bad example for the other employees and upsetting people. if i was working longer hours, i could risk showing them up in front of higher management, and that would be bad for team morale. i was specifically ordered to stick to my 35 hour perscribed work week and 2 hour lunches. i had a similar conversation with the same boss when i arranged to stay at a friends and walk into work during one of the city's chronic transport strikes. again, i was told that my going out of my way to get to work was "setting a bad example," the correct behaviour was to call in the morning of the strike and simply explain that you couldnt get in. at some point, i gave up and stopped trying. like my colleagues, i came to regard my job as a minor annoyance interupting my life and proceeded to indulge in 2 hour lunches and afternoon walks in the park. but leisure time is harder to enjoy when you are poor and broke. Paris has great museums, but i could rarely afford to visit them, and the restaurants were virtually off limits to me. i wandered all over the 20 arrondisement on my long breaks, and in the evenings as i avoided having to take the RER back to the ghetto i lived in. i know pretty much all the streets of Central Paris perfectly, probably better than i will ever know London. i also spent a lot of the year reading. i bought used paper backs at Gilbert Jeune and then swapped them with friends or trader them back in when i was done with them and wanted something new to read. whilst i enjoyed reading lengthy sagas, i would have prefered to work harder, earn more money, and live better. France was clearly not for me.

that said, even though i doubt i would ever want to work in France again, i still enjoy going back for the odd visit, especially if i dont have to actually do much work with French companies. if the weather is good, i like going for a nice wander. Paris, unlike London, is centralised, so you have everything of remote interest in the 20 arrondissement, and then absolute nothingness out in the banlieu, where there is no point in going unless you are unfortunate enough to live there. but i always end up wandering down the mouffetard. some family friends live in that area, and finding myself with a free evening in the city, i agree to meet them for dinner at our usual haunt- Cafe Delmas on Place de la Contrescarpe. but i arrive in the area early and go for a wander while waiting for them. when i lived here, i used to come to visit them every few weeks or so, and, knowing that i was broke, they were always kind and would take me for dinner. in those days, compared to my horrid banlieu, the contrescarpe seemed like paradise. i felt like i was crossing between different worlds, which actually i was. after a nice evening out in the civilised part of the city, i would feel a sinking sensation in my stomach as i got on the escalator to the RER at Gare du Nord, for that is the moment you feel you are descending into the ghetto. if i had dressed up in the day and had to travel back late, i would often change my clothes before going down that escalator, for fear of attracting attention to myself. even though i had an ipod even back in those days, i would put it away before i got on the escalator, and hide it carefully in my bag, knowing it would be stolen otherwise. today as i sit in the contrescarpe, able to pay for my own drinks, i find that i still find the place very pleasant, perhaps even more so as i do not have the feeling of impending dread as i leave.