After a long hiatus (being occupied with actual work), it’s time to resurrect my blog. But instead of whinging about politics, I can now go on about moving to and living in France. Which might end up being more irritating. Especially if I start in on French politics. (Je dois lire le nouveau livre de Éric Zemmour. Il me semble qu’il est un homme très intressant…)
Jet lag notwithstanding, I have successfully opened a bank account, subscribed to a cell phone plan, bought a transit pass, and more or less figured out the local bus system. Mostly in a mix of French and English with both parties trying to be helpful and/or practice by attempting the language they’re less comfortable with. I don’t think I’ve butchered la langue de Molière too badly, though I suspect I vacillate unpredictably between tu and vous. It all happens so fast.
This is the street leading up to my place.
Unfortunately it’s been cool and overcast and it’s December, so most of the trees have lost their leaves. This place is probably postcard-esque in the spring. Right now it’s a bit meh.
Worst thing so far: my kitchen.
Yup. That’s the entire thing. Why, in a country that loves food and regulations, is that even allowed? How does France not have a law specifying minimum counter space?
On the other hand, there’s the cell phone plan. No contract, unlimited calls to land-lines in most of the world and cell phones in France and North America, unlimited texts in France, and 3 GB of data (after which you get slower data, not overage charges), for €19,99. To put that in Canadian terms, that’s a month of service for 15% of what it costs to cancel a three-year contract with Bell Mobility (500 MB data) six months early.