The View + Sacre Coeur

My Studio

pictures! -- the neighborhood

There was a "manifestation" yesterday on Blvd. Magenta, apparently in defense of those "without papers," or illegal immigrants.


The Canal St. Martin

Visit to Montmartre

One of my duties is to accompany a professor on an "excursion" with the students so they can check out different parts of Paris, ride the métro, etc. Unfortunately it was raining, the professor did not make any sort of plans and had not been to Montmartre in years, I haven't been up there since 1997, and it was raining!! Up we went, though -- and I had to lead, telling them about the name "Montmartre" (mount of martyrs), the story of St. Denis, the story behind the Cathedral, and thanks for trooping through the rain. I guess it was fine. What you'd expect: the Sacre Coeur, artists wanting to paint your portrait, tourists. The students are sweet: either so-cal brats who aren't used to walking and definitely not used to public transportation, but you can tell they're trying to make it work and might even feel proud to realize their feet can take them so far; or nor-cal nose-pierced nerds -- with whom I feel more in common, although they might look at me like a stranger.

The Quartier

After about a full five days in town (and a respectable 8 hours of sleep), I can say with conviction that I really like my neighborhood. At first, my first impression left me feeling a little out of sorts. "Queens," I thought, which means "multicultural" and "working-class" -- both good things (esp. for a gentrifier like me, if we want to be sadly self-critical about what I am, moving from the Mission to Williamsburg as i did) but also a little alienating for an (apparently) white and (barely) academically-employed jeune femme.
Chateau-D'eau, the closest metro stop, is a meeting place for a local African community (which stretches along ligne 4 up to Clignacourt). Dudes literally hover around the station entrance and ask things that I don't yet understand (According to these awesome photos, and against my initial belief which was based on "The Wire," it seems the dudes are waiting to see which of their friends emerge from the station -- rather than acting as corner boys. But, I don't know -- there is a lot of parasitical loitering around that station . . .)
This community stops dead in the middle of the block. It's very strange. It goes immediately from black to brown/yellow as I approach my house -- where all the kid's clothing stores are, owned mostly by Chinese or Middle Easterners.
If you continue West, you walk toward the Canal St. Martin, the hipster neighborhood. Aha! My people -- who have turned a previously drug-ridden scary place that lined an ignored and polluted channel, into a playground of organic grocery stores and over-priced bistros.
Needless to say, I know where I am going to hang out and study in the afternoons . . .

Getting it together

I finally got 7 hours of sleep. Even though those hours were from 9pm - 4am, it promises more normal hours in the future.
And I finally found a lamp. I have a deep aversion to overhead light. I felt ridiculous searching the streets of Paris for a silly lamp that I'll only need for four months (I eventually found one at Habitat on rue du faubourg St. Antoine, by Bastille). But now that I have it all set up, yep -- I love it. I also bought a silly little succulent plant that I will have to abandon in four months. Why am I wasting my precious money on things I can live without for less than half a year? I don't know! Please don't say it's my "nesting instinct" kicking in. I hate that notion. I think it's because Dave and I had been living in the same apt. for over four years and I'm finding it fun (reluctantly - because, really, everything is so expensive here) to decorate a new place. And this studio is so drab, it needs something.
So, sleep: check. Lamp: check. The boxes of clothes and books I mailed to myself have arrived. Things are coming along nicely.

Faubourg St. Martin

In Paris, one finds that certain trades are located in particular neighborhoods. You may be walking down the street and notice that every storefront you're passing is selling the exact same product. Today I walked down Rue du Temple, after an exhausting search for who knows what at BHV, and noticed that all the stores sold bijoux. Mostly, these stores are wholesale dealers (but why the storefronts?), but it looked like individual consumers would drop in to maybe get a deal. (I'm just guessing, I really have no idea how all this works.)
The neighborhood I live in claims a particular trade. Children's clothing. Yesterday I told D there seemed to be like 15 stores in a row that sold kid's clothes. Today I realized there must be at least double that number. So many! It is as if I the gods needed to firmly and constantly remind me of my current "condition" and provide me with a sartorial vision of my future.
Unfortunately, the clothes aren't that cute.