We’ve been staying in Paris since Thursday. And every day we have been going back and forth between Palaiseau and Paris to move our stuff. By train and metro.
Somehow Gergö was convinced having a fixed date where everything needed to be packed and ready to go would be more stressful than going to Palaiseau with two empty suitcases everyday. I went along with it, still convinced against all evidence that we don’t have that much stuff.
On the streets of Palaiseau
All in all we made the trip Palaiseau to Paris with two suitcases and two backpacks 7 times. We only moved 18 months ago. It remains a mystery how we could have accumulated so many things in the meantime. The first few trips I neatly unpacked my bags and filled up the wardrobe. Since Sunday it’s mostly just dumping stuff on any available surface, so the suitcase will be empty for the next trip.
I found out that I have a lot of socks, far more than I was aware of. I might be needing them in the future, though, we don’t have heated floors anymore. The new apartment doesn’t have a thermostat either. We have to switch the electric heaters on and off individually. So far we haven’t dared use the washing machine, yet. It’s a fancy American top loader that is somehow connected to the giant boiler. It doesn’t heat up its own water but takes the hot water from the boiler.
Off peak electricity is cheaper, so the boiler is programmed to only heat up water during the night. If we want to wash during the day we have to switch the boiler to the night setting and then turn it back off again afterwards.
Right now we are in the empty apartment in Palaiseau, waiting for our former landlady to show up and do the “état des lieux”.
When we arrived, we were greeted by the evil geese. I went in close to get a good last look before saying goodbye. They hissed at me but didn’t outright attack, I think because they were hoping for food and realise they won’t get any if they kill me.
The upstairs neighbour is playing music too loudly again. He has been becoming more and more erratic lately. He has always thrown empty beer cans through the metal rubbish chute but now he also occasionally shouts and screams and plays music so loudly he doesn’t hear the other neighbours knocking on his door.
This all makes us appreciate our new apartment even more. So far it has been a quiet place, even the train station isn’t loud. Only on Sunday night, after a hockey game at the nearby arena there was a lot of honking from the inevitable traffic jam of large events.
I had a little walk around the park of Bercy and I already saw a heron.
It’s promising to be a good area.
When we signed the contract, our landlady mentioned that we will need to introduce ourselves to the gardienne after she’s back from the holiday. I had no idea that was necessary and tried to ask for more info, but she didn’t elaborate. She also briefly mentioned that some people apparently tip her, but she doesn’t think it’s necessary. It’s their job, after all. I wanted to ask all about that as well! Tipping in France remains a mystery and responses from French people about tipping vary greatly. These small cultural differences interest me the most, but I couldn’t convey this, it seems. While she explained how to work the shower controls at length (it’s a regular tap), she wouldn’t elaborate on gardien etiquette at all.
