I graduated from 100 Level French classes last night, and am officially a 201 Level étudiante. To celebrate, our class (most of the six of us have been together since I joined in 103 last December, and a few of them even started 101 together) had champagne, cheese, baguette, chocolate, and played a French version of the “A is for, B is for,” game, using cities and names, en Français. I won one round, besting Romy with “Ubud,” a town in Bali, and then lost to Rachel, our flawless teacher, when I couldn’t think of another man’s name that started with “K.”
French class is the best money I’ve ever spent.
We’re all continuing onto 201, including Rachel, who is really excited to introduce us to the subjunctive tense. Having to memorize another tense seems impossible, given that my head is still swimming with the difference between le futur and le futur proche, and le passé compose and imparfait. And the present. And the conditional. Being the nerd that I am, though, I am thrilled at the challenge. Also, we get new textbooks since we are now “intermediate,” and who doesn’t love new books?
I came home last night obviously a little buzzed off champagne and French vocab, and then had to write a feature article for France Property Magazine. By the time I went to bed around midnight, I was so saturated with French-y things I might as well have been in Paris. Clearly I still had Paris on the brain this morning, so when I found this apartment for rent in Saint-Germaine, on Rue Saint-Sulpice, I knew I had to share.
Maybe it’s my own specific romantic notion, but I’ve always wanted an attic apartment in Paris to hole myself up in and write furiously all day and night, stopping only to make the long trek six flights down, darting quickly across the street to my local patisserie for my daily baguette, pulling my collar up as I step outside to fend off the morning fog. A sur-le-toit view of Paris through the windows, original wood beams criss-crossing the eaved ceiling. You know, just like in “Midnight in Paris.”
Gil: I’m pushing for a little attic in Paris with a skylight.
Carol: Ah, “La Boheme.”
Paul: All that’s missing is the tuberculosis.
I keep laughing hysterically at that, but it’s so true. What is killer about this charming attic apartment is the cost: €1400/mo. That’s only $1900! Why do I not live there?!
Do you think you could hack it in an apartment like this? This is rhetorical. The answer is obviously “oui.”