Posts Tagged ‘weird’

Odd.

Friday, October 19th, 2012

I saw a policeman on a Velib city bike today. He was holding on to the side of a police car and being pulled along in the middle of peak hour traffic. Seulement à Paris…

Very Confusing.

Wednesday, March 28th, 2012

There have been many moments during my time in Paris where I have felt the need to slap myself because that is the only way I could possibly come back to earth and be able to reassess what was happening. One of those moments is right NOW. Allow me to vent.

After having received my Visa to live in Paris for another year, I returned to France and then had to send another stack of paper into the immigration department. Despite fellow Visa-Applicants telling me that I wouldn’t hear back for months, I received a letter in the mail saying they had received my pieces of paper and that they may, or may not, contact me again. Excellent.

Yesterday I was having a really great day – the sun was shining, I had started a new sewing project, everything was oh-so-lovely. I then went to my local indoor markets to buy food for dinner where I am fairly certain the vegetable shop man cursed on me by trying to hit on me while selling me carrots. After he had asked me if I lived far from here and if I lived alone, I then quickly paid and returned home. Upon my return, I checked the mail and discovered two letters – one from Orange, my useless telephone company, and the other from the immigration department. Wow.

The Immigration department appear to be working in some sort of super-speed power drive because they had already set a date for me to go and have a medical examination, hand in more pieces of paper and be interviewed, and this date is next week. WHAT ON EARTH?! Since when did any sort of bureaucratic process in France happen so quickly? Anyway, the big problem is that I will be in England on the allocated date and therefore cannot have my lungs x-rayed. So today I rode down to the Immigration office to ask whether or not I could change the date.

The office has the appearance of a shelter or squat and is an old, dirty, concrete building that clearly no one cares about. Only foreigners have to go there so why invest money in it? The security man at the door did a thorough check of my bag before asking what I was needing. When I explained that I wanted to change the date of my appointment, he said I have to wait until AFTER my appointment to make a new date. I looked at him like he had just told me the Queen of England is really a man and questioned whether or not I would get in trouble if I didn’t turn up to my appointment. No, it’s fine. Right.

Most of my brain believes that there is no way this can really be true, but there’s part of me that realises I am in France and so there is a high probability something this strange could be the case. I have spent the afternoon trying to call the office and get a second opinion but no one is answering the phone. At first I thought it was just lunch time but now I am thinking it is an exceptionally long lunch. Oh, and their website isn’t working properly so I can’t look at that either. I love France.

Relaxing Times are Fun Times #4

Friday, January 13th, 2012

Some of you may remember my initiation into the world of beauty treatments in December 2010 when I had a facial and massage in Perth. It was one of the most gloriously relaxing moments of my life and so I had been contemplating having another for quite some time. While living in France, I have managed to sign up to various websites that offer promotions and deals on a wide range of awesome things and one day I decided to purchase a facial and massage for the bargain price of 35 Euros. The other day I realised my voucher was going to expire so this week I made an appointment.

Yesterday was the big day where I psyched myself up and entered the world of beauty treatments. I hate doing this – I really do. I feel so uncomfortable and out of place, and I’m fairly certain everyone is staring at me thinking “What is she doing here?” The girls running the salon were relatively nice but it is always a bit difficult when they realise I am not from these parts and I don’t know how to answer “What is your skin type like?” in English, let alone French. Apparently my skin is “sensible et reactif” to which I strongly agreed and further agreed when she started putting stuff on my face and my skin started to burn. I decided to go with it as it was quite relaxing and I couldn’t feel my skin peeling off just yet.

The facial was nice although obviously cheaper and it didn’t smell like biscuits like the last time. It finished fairly abruptly and I was happily dozing and almost asleep when I realised she was talking to me and telling me to get dressed and to meet her at the “vistabulle“.

When I purchased this ‘beauty treatment’ I thought I was buying a massage, with hands, nice smelling oil stuff, soft music and me feeling awesome at the end of it. Turns out I had signed up for the electric chair. Well, not quite but I was made to sit in a big leather chair that then proceeded to ‘massage’ me. Unfortunately the chair was designed for French people who are generally at least a head shorter than me. When I first sat down, my legs were raised and my knees almost came up to my chin. The girl frowned and suggested I move my legs so that my feet were hanging off the end as I am “bigger than most”. Once I was settled, I was handed this weird headset that blew oxygen up my nose and I was then left alone in the room for half an hour.

Vistabulle

I sat in one of these.

The chair thing wasn’t bad – but it was hardly the same as having someone give you a real massage. The main problem was that I was too big for the chair so when it was supposed to be massaging my shoulders it was hitting me on my shoulder blades. Boney things, shoulder blades. I eventually started to enjoy it and then it stopped. And I waited. And no one came. So I leaped out of the chair which had turned off in a reclined position, put my shoes on and went down stairs to where the girls continued to look at me strangely and bid me farewell.

I can’t say I will be going back and next time I will make certain that I am getting a human massage rather than the electric chair. I did manage to then wander through Paris looking like a puppet on a string, my arms and legs flopping along, and I walked ten times slower than I ever have in my life. But after an hour or so it had worn off and I was back to myself. Shame.

Crazy Weather

Saturday, February 12th, 2011

The weather in Paris is just insane! The day we arrived it was -3. Then it warmed up to be fine and around 10 degrees for a week or so. On Thursday we had our first bit of rain which was mostly just pathetic drizzle that didn’t require umbrella protection and then yesterday! Yesterday… wow. It was sunny, warm and reached a top of 17 degrees! I was walking around the city wearing a skirt and a long sleeved top! It was too hot for a cardigan! Weird.

Today I think we’re returning to the fine and 10 degree weather. It’s a nice temperature really… not too cold and you don’t get hot and sweaty walking around. We’re off to the Marche aux Puces today to buy some fleas.