Day Four of the Water Crisis

This was supposed to be a 4-hour project.

Now we are into the fourth day without water in the building.

Day Three of the Water Crisis

As if our weekend wasn't stressful enough, we think that the water is going to be off in the entire building again tomorrow. I say "think" because there is no notice posted.

It seems that the syndic posts the notice that something "will happen" after it has "already happened".

Do they have a problem with verb tenses too?

So, in preparation (this is the third time now), I've filled bottles with filtered water and a tub with water for hand washing. We will take showers before 8 AM because the plumbers don't arrive until after 9 (except the first day when they arrived for the planned time of 8:30 at 2 PM instead). Better safe than sorry like the first day.

So, we're prepared for whatever the plumbers throw our way.

Day Two of the Water Crisis

We thought that the plumbing work in the building was done last night. I used our stored water on the plants. Ho-hum.

Until this morning, when I tried to wash a dish and the water trickled out again. Back downstairs, where the plumber told us that, indeed, the water is off today until 5 PM and on Monday all day as well.

In need of a shower, I went to the gym. But Terry has no gym membership, so he is off to the tennis club. Luckily we have somewhere to go for a shower.

I am now down to one Brita pitcher full of water.

My Next Drawing- Art WILL Imitate Life

Today in my art class, we each had to draw our own hand and after that, a dry, brown leaf. The hand was hard, the leaf was really, really hard.



Even though the teacher thinks my art doesn't resemble life enough, I am pleased with my drawings so far and with the progress I've made.

We'll get into the philosophy of all this at a later date.

I have to practice drawing things correctly, as they really are, quite a challenge for me. So, best to select something easy, with not too many angles. Here's my next subject. If you don't see this drawing soon, or if this entire post disappears, you'll know what happened.

French Frustrations

Today, I waited for the #70 bus during the morning rush hour. Aren't there supposed to be more busses during rush hour vs. less? I waited for a mere 20 minutes, not knowing if the bus would ever show up, since the little electronic sign that tells when the next bus should arrive has been out of order for two weeks.

This particular bus stop is at a very busy intersection: Sevres Babylone.

You'd think someone would notice the 25 people huddled under the non-functioning sign...

This minor inconvenience didn't stop/nor ruin my day. In fact, another woman was even tardier than I was to our drawing class this morning, cursing a completely different traffic delay.

This takes me back to my photo above. The sign has been posted for a week on the door to our building. It says that the water to the building will be turned off between 8:30 AM and 1 PM today, October 23, 2008. No problem. We filled a couple extra bottles with water and went about our day.

I was surprised that at 1:30 PM when I got home from class, the water was on. Terry said it was never turned off. So, we figured that maybe it was turned off for such a short period of time that it wasn't even noticed.

Problem solved.

Oh yeah? (These last two sentences reflect my mind at work...)

At 2 PM, we went to wash the lunch dishes and only a trickle of water came out of the brand-new kitchen faucet. After investigating, we found out that there was a "delay" this morning with the plumber, and he had just turned the water off now, expecting it to be back on by 5:30 PM tonight, a mere 4-1/2 hours late.

I'm wondering if the plumber perhaps tried to take the #70 bus during rush hour and just arrived on the job at 2 PM.

WICE Conversation Groups Continue!

We started out, about a month ago, with 15 people, and we were all thrilled with the turnout.

You see, last spring, WICE conversation groups faced extinction. But we came back. These photos are from today. We had 36 people today and the same number last Friday. And the best part is that each day, we're getting new people who join the groups. They all love the atmosphere, the sharing of cultures and language and, of course the comraderie. Friendships develop over time.

It's been a wonderful comeback for the WICE conversation groups.




Now that we're re-established, we're on to other things. We're now planning our annual Noel soiree -- singing and potluck. We hope to get 100 people to attend. Photos to come.

Art Class, Are My Motives Pure?

I'm starting an art class on Thursday. I've always wanted to take an art class but I'm not sure if my motives are pure. Sure, I would like to be able to draw and eventually paint. I like watercolors, they are nuanced and light. I do not think I'm at all talented, or I would have stumbled upon an art class before now.

What I like most about the art class, so far, is the art supplies.

I got the list of things I needed for the class. It was in english and french. I couldn't understand most of the english, let alone the french. The french was on the page so that the students can take the supplies list to an art store and have someone help get the right stuff.

So, I dragged Terry with me to the art supplies store yesterday afternoon. I had to promise him a beer at the end of the trip.

Shopping was a great success, now, I want everything in the store! The paints, the pastels, the paper! It's all too beautiful. The choices are incredible.

For example, pastels come in thick and thin, round and square. How do I know what I want? We are only allowed to buy black right now, what a shame. There are millions of colors to choose from. Each different pastel is in a separate little wooden cubby hole in a very large wooden box. They are organized by color and by brand and by size.

Luckily for me, I have to go back to another store, because one of the things I needed was out of stock at the first store. I get to go back tomorrow! I think I need to get something called a "cutter". Terry thought this was a pencil sharpener, but I think it is a knife, so I may need two things! Hurray!

So far, I'm enjoying the class, at least the art supplies part.

Il fait beau

We've had a burst of autumn sun for the last two days, so I've been out trying to take advantage of the festive atmosphere. The cafes are packed, glasses of wine and beer are on almost every table.

Everyone's face is lifted toward the sun. Ankles are bared. This might be the last chance for a sunny day for many, many months.

I hit the streets and the shops this afternoon.

Saturday is a busy day, since most shops are closed on Sunday. The streets were jammed. My friends in Paris say that people are shopping but not buying. I shopped a lot and bought a little, certainly not enough to stimulate any economy.

The french know how to enjoy a pretty day. For the price of a cup of coffee, you can occupy a table in the sun for as long as you want. On a day like this, people-watching is a great way to spend an hour or two.

I hope it's sunny tomorrow, since I didn't get enough of it today.

Tennis Club du 16eme

It's almost time for the tennis club to cover all the courts for six months, so I took photos today of the lovely red clay courts. It was a beautiful fall day today. Sunny, but cool. A perfect day for tennis, and everyone else thought so, too. The courts were filled every hour.

We are enjoying playing on the red clay, much easier on the body than a hard court. But, dirtier.

Part of the charm of this small club (8 courts) is that the grounds surrounding the courts are overgrown. I can see last year's iris leaves still in the ground and there are grape vines which produce some lovely black grapes which are put in a little dish for the members to try. On the weekend, people sit in lounge chairs, their faces toward the sun. Mothers bring their dogs with them to watch their children's tennis practice.

But, the best part is that it's quiet. There are no children running around and screaming. No one swears after missing the ball. No one slams their racquet into the net. Everyone leaves the court on time, after sweeping the red clay clean.

Lost In The Translation, Non!

Today, I had a meeting with another Anglophone, although she isn't American, she is Scottish. (More on this later)

We met at a lovely cafe, La Terrasse, at Ecole Militaire, which is a crossroads point in Paris (one of many). While we speak the same language (American English vs. Scottish English), we might still be from different planets.

When I left, I felt like we had not accomplished anything and I'm sure that she felt the same way. I think we both tried to finalize things for our respective goals, but between being polite (yes, I forced myself) and being strangers, we didn't come up with an action plan that would get us to the next step.

I'm not sure if she knows this or not... (She doesn't know about the blog, thank God)

So, I'll try to proceed according to what I think I agreed to do and she will proceed along the agreement that she thinks she made. Hopefully, at some point in the future, our goals will be consistent and we will be happy that we met and had such good communication skills.

OK, the "Scottish" thing -- this is really embarrassing to write, but... When we were first in Paris, in September, 2002, at the brink of the US invasion into Iraq, the US vs. French relationship was not very good. The Americans thought that the French should back the Americans simply because we helped the French during WWII. The French didn't think that the "war" was justified and didn't accept the American pressure to join forces.

To point out the obvious, Americans were not popular in France at that time.

To complicate things, my french language skills were limited to the present tense and some very common pleasantries.

One day, during the height of American/French distaste, I got into the elevator in our building on rue de Seine, with a neighbor. Remember that French elevators are so small that two people in one elevator will almost certainly have a small amount of intimate contact (at least a shoulder or hip) unless they are anorexic or are midgets.

The man, very nicely asked me in french, "Are you Scottish?"

My life flashed before my eyes! An excuse! I'm not American, I'm Scottish!!! Hurray!

So, I said, "Yes, I'm Scottish, nice to meet you" then he arrived at his floor and got off.

I'm sure that eventually word got around (small building, all French except us) that we were really Americans. Oh well.