Four I forgot while blogging yesterday:
(1) How to meet people in Paris: When we first came out of our apartment, we walked to the side and were looking all the way up at the top of our building to see our balcony and our windows. While we were gazing skyward, an elegant elderly woman came up to us and also started looking upwards (it reminded me of that game kids or teens used to play, where everyone would look up and see how many other people they could get to do the same). She asked us if anything was wrong, and we told her, no, we were just looking at our new apartment. She proceeded to chat with us for about ten minutes, telling us about nearby restaurants, good local markets, where she lived, and the fact that she ate only organic food, all the time. Her name was Madame Jogo.
(2) Suzie’s Marilyn moment: We were walking down Avenue du General Leclerc when we came to a large grate blowing up hot air (from the Metro, I think). I was walking ahead and Suzie behind me. After passing the grate, I heard hooting and hollering coming from a group of teenage boys. When I turned around, Suzie was laughing. She had walked over the grate, her skirt had blown up like that classic picture of Marilyn Monroe, and the boys, who were stationed at that specific spot to watch this happen over and over again, had hooted and hollered.
(3) We are invited to a party: Suzie met the lady who lives upstairs from us, and they began talking about how great it was that the elevator has been fixed. The lady was especially happy because she was planning a large party for this evening and did not relish carrying boxes of wine and food up 6 flights of stairs. Anyway, one thing led to another and she ended us inviting us to her party.
(4) Our ‘crazy’ downstairs neighbors. We had been warned that our downstairs neighbors were a bit on the crazy and irritable side, and constantly complained about the noise our owners made when walking on their floor. Well sure enough, Suzie got a call from them last evening, complaining about our walking on the floor. I don’t really know how else to walk, except on the floor, and there is a limit to how daintily a 50+ 200 pound man can move around. So they may have to live with it, although we are trying to be sensitive and walk a little less heavily.
Categories: Travel -- France