you know you’re a Seattleite in Paris when…

You’ve probably seen the You know you’re from (insert city) when…lists. I decided to take the applicable parts from the Seattle and Paris lists to create my own You know you’re a Seattleite in Paris when list. It's long so I’ll split it into two posts…

• You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown, and you can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian. (I’m not that bad, but I am particular about coffee)
• You feel guilty throwing an aluminum can in the trash.
• You use the words "sun break" and know what it means. (this isn’t the actual term?)
• You know at least eight people who work for either Microsoft or Boeing. (I have to include former employees to get up to 8)
• You invite twice as many people as you really want to a party since only half will actually show up. (I'm not convinced that only Seattleites do this)
• You know what Lutefisk is. (no I am NOT from Ballard!)
• You personally know someone from Alaska. (I haven’t kept in touch with her, but a former manager is from Alaska)
• You consider floating bridges a pain in the butt, not an engineering marvel. (no one who's lived in Seattle would use the term "marvel")
• You know how to pronounce "Sequim", "Puyallup" and "Issaquah." (btw, for any French people reading this, Seattle has 3 syllables not 2)
• You use more than 5 words to order a cup of coffee. "I want to order an unleaded, double, short, skinny, wet cappuccino with a shot of Amaretto please." (if isn’t espresso or café crème in France, don’t you need at least 5 words?)
• You consider it a sunny day if the sun is visible at some point of the day. (That IS sunny!!)

french flirting begins at a young age

Tonight on the way home I had another cute experience of how friendly French boys can be. The bus was crowded and after some shifting, I ended up standing next to a stroller. During the ride, I felt a slight tug on my coat and when I looked down I saw that the little boy in the stroller had grabbed my coat. He started gently rubbing the coat and I assumed he liked the feel of the leather. I had second thoughts about that when I realized something had changed. The boy’s small hand was now under my coat rubbing the side of my leg, by the knee. He lifted his hand for a second and I quickly inserted the coat between my leg and his hand. He looked at me with big eyes and grabbed my coat again, but this time about an inch higher – grab, rub, pause, grab rub pause. A couple of stops later his mother gently removed his hand (for the second time) and they were off. What do you think he’ll be like in 20 years…

franglais and sarko gets hitched

The boyfriend forwarded this article about speaking franglais, something which I have been known to do more often than I'd like to admit. A couple of amusing franglais examples come from a friend who lived with a French speaking family in Belgium during her senior year of highschool. Once when she was feeling sick she said “Je suis malade, j'ai besoin de vomiter” (the proper verb is vomir). Another occured when she was have breakfast with her host family and asked if the yoghurt had “preservatifs”. FYI – un preservatif = a condom. Fortunately her family had a sense of humor.

On an unrelated note, Sarkozy has married his ex-wife's sister. Not really, but the Carla-Cecilia resemblance can't be missed. Now that Sarko and Bruni are officially hitched, foreign goverments don't have to worry about protocol issues (i.e. where does she sleep and where does she sit during dinner.)

Read about Sarko and the new Mrs. here, here or here.

night of firsts

Monday night my manager and I went to Prague for meetings today and it was a night of firsts for me –first time in Orly airport; first time flying Skyeurope; first time in Prague (although I didn’t get to see any of the city); and the first time I’ve ever had such a hassle getting to the plane. It started when I beeped going through the security scanner and had to be patted down and checked with the hand scanner. Then my purse needed to be checked, I guess because they saw something on the x-ray machine or they thought I looked sketchy. And then, and this was what got me, at the gate my boarding pass came up as invalid. My manager and I checked in together and his boarding pass was ok, so I'm not sure what was going on. I tried to peek at the screen to see if I had been put on a no-fly list since my last trip. I was allowed on the flight but my paranoia had kicked in and I started wondering if the cosmos was trying to tell me not to get on the plane. Suddenly I had visions of my life as a movie of the week where everything was fine until I ignored the signals to stay off the plane and was killed in the subsequent crash. Fortunately, nothing so dramatic occurred and we arrived safely. My manager asked if I was a terrorist or an undercover spy. Perhaps I should change my name to Seattleite 007…

(stereo)typically french

The roommate had one of her infamously long dinners last night. Usually I decline, but decided to participate in this one (and didn’t get to bed until around 2 this morning). Here’s a run down of the guest list.

Roommate’s best friend: let’s call her bf. Roomy and bf share the same first name and have known each other since childhood. Bf is here for the weekend with her boyfriend and both of them are still married to other people (I have no idea why they don’t divorce). Bf separated from her husband, was then with another guy who committed suicide and she got breast cancer. Now she’s with the current guy, I think they might’ve met on Meetic, but I’m not positive. Side note - bf tends to stare which, with my American sensitivities, I find rude.

One of roommate’s ex’s: roomy has dated several men (the boyfriend and I refer to them as the Pepes) during the year and half that I’ve lived with her. I’ll have to explain the Pepes in another post because it would be too complicated to add them all here. The Pepe at dinner last night is the one she was with when I moved in. They were off and on for a while, seem to fight whenever they’re together and he’s still in love with her. She claims they’re not getting back together, but she slept at his place last night while bf and boyfriend stayed here. I suppose they can have a friendly overnight “visit” without getting back together, however I’m skeptical.

Friend of roommate (who is also an ex): let’s call this guy Francois. Francois is a serial dragueur and every time I see him he’s with someone different or on the prowl. He and roomy dated briefly before I knew her, but she soon figured out that he was dating several other women at the same time. They’ve remained good friends. The last time Francois was here a few months ago he was with a woman from South America. They met in NY while he was working there under the table as a waiter. Since then, they’ve been PACSed, have broken up and even though they’re no longer together she works for him sometimes. Last night he was with a new lady. They met at a party and have been together 2 weeks. I give it another week or two before he moves on to the next one…

rant

If any of you plan on visiting Paris, below are a couple of tips to avoid irritating those of us who live here.
1) When you are walking down a sidewalk, do NOT walk several abreast causing someone to have to go into the street to get around you or say something to go through you.
2) When you get off the metro – GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! Do not step off and immediately stop to look around for the exit or metro connection. There are people behind you who also need to get off (and know where they’re going) and others in front of you who are trying to get on.

money, money…

If you haven’t already heard the name Jerome Kerviel, you will soon. This is the man who allegedly caused Société Générale (my bank) to lose 5 billion euros ($7 billion). Read about the bank’s huge loss here or here.