The Fixer-Upper

Last weekend, Copain and I visited another apartment, only this time, the apartment was in PARIS. 

It was described as being 50m squared (about 500 square feet), and "à tout refaire" - everything must be re-done. Hence the lovely price-tag. So we went - why not?! Maybe this was just the ticket to homeownership in the city!

There was only one photo on the agency's website - of the outside of the building - the rest was a mystery.

We hiked up avenue Gambetta, taking in the beautiful Père Lachaise cemetery, the tree-lined street, the kids playing at the park. Then we turned right onto the street where the apartment was located...

I looked at Copain. He looked at me. We weren't in Kansas anymore.

I tried to remain optimistic- This neighborhood is up and coming!  I'm sure there will be a Starbucks here in no time! Yeah, the guy on sitting on that porch looks like he's been there for the past week, but hey, we're in Paris! It's....authentic!

The agent met us at the gate and lead us up two flights of stairs in a lovely, well-kept building. We looked at each other hopefully - the co-propriété (the co-owners) must be good, responsible people!

Then the agent opened the door to the actual apartment we'd come to visit...

We walked into a little horizontal hallway which gave us four choices - one door lead to a bedroom, one door lead to the living room, one lead to the WC and one lead to the kitchen. Lots of...options. The walls rocked wallpaper from 1943, a gigantic TV had made a permanent indent in the bedroom mattress, two tables were set up in the living room covered in bullets and knives, and the shower was located in the kitchen, closing nicely with a brown accordion door. Jackets and shoes hung in the overstuffed closet. 

We learned that the owner, a retired policeman, had just died, leaving the apartment to his niece in Marseille. (Maybe he secretly hated her). And she wanted one thing - to get rid of the place (very understandable).

The windows on the left of the apartment gave onto a courtyard and a building, and the windows on the back wall gave onto another courtyard and another building. 

The tank for the toilet was located on the wall and flushed by pulling a handle at the end of a metal chain, BUT, there was one small window for aeration purposes which is really hard to find in Paris. I pointed it out to Copain hoping he would ignore the rotting wood around the window frame and direct view into the neighboring apartment.

We asked the agent how exactly he envisioned this apartment being livable, and he jumped into his spiel of tearing down walls, fusing the shower room and toilet together, adding door frames in murs porteurs (supporting walls) with approvable from the building manager, opening up the kitchen onto the living room, re-doing the electricity and plumbing, and then voilà! A brand new apartment in Paris! 

You understand just how badly we want an apartment in Paris when I tell you that Copain immediately called his parents to see if they thought it was a good investment. 

We asked the agent if we could meet him at the agency later in the afternoon, after walking around the neighborhood to get to know it better. As we adventured further down the road, we realized that the neighborhood had a ways to go before it was actually up and coming. I wondered if I would feel safe walking home alone at night. 

The sun was shining, so we grabbed a table at a local café, ordered salads and rosé and talked about the potential of the apartment. How it would be a good investment - that when we sold it, we would make a mint. 50 square meters in Paris! At this price! We could make it beautiful! We could sell it for so much more!

But then we finally admitted to ourselves, it wasn't a coup de coeur, it was a good investment. And while people buy apartments to invest their money, we also want to buy a home, not just an investment. We want a coup de coeur.

I told my colleagues about the apartment the next day and they told me I was crazy-town. 50 meters for that price?! But the neighborhood is up and coming! And then I thought that maybe we had made a mistake. I texted Copain that maybe we should visit again and reconsider. He texted back:

Don't think about it. This wasn't our coup de coeur. 

And he's right. It wasn't. 

L'Eglise Saint-Roch

Last Sunday I found myself alone with no plans (you know me, plans are scary). Sometimes when I realize that I can do whatever the heck I want, it becomes almost overwhelming - I could do...anything! 

Go to a movie

Visit a museum expo

See a friend

Read a book

Paint my nails

Write a blog

Go out for tea

Anything.

I decided to go the the Musée d'Orsay, which I am embarrassed to admit I have never visited.  I jumped on my Vélib and rode along the Seine, only to find myself face to face with about 200 people in line at the museum entrance. 

Scratch that. Move along. A three-hour wait was not on my "things I want to do today" list.

I continued to ride all the way to Concorde, made a right, and started to look for a parking spot for my bike. Finally, I found one - right across the street from l'Eglise Saint-Roch.

I figured I'd never visited the church before, and what else would my Sunday be good for if I wasn't taking in all that Paris had to offer. How many times do I just do the same ol' things? This would be a new discovery, so up the stairs I went...

I'm not what you'd call a big church person, but it was nice to escape the bustle of Paris into a place of quiet, calm and reflection.

I couldn't help but think about the number of people who had 

dipped their hands in here for a bit of holy water...

Or walked on these stones...

Or put money in this box for the poor...

Lit a candle for a loved one...

Made the sign of the cross while gazing up at this...

Cried for someone they lost in the war...

Felt comforted by a prayer...

Knelt in this confessional...

And felt hope when the sunlight streamed through this window...

As I rounded the corner of the nave, I heard a small voice over a microphone. I couldn't quite make out what was being said due to the funky church acoustics, but I quickened my step, worried that I was interrupting the beginning of mass.

Then, out of nowhere, music. 

I didn't know it, but an organ concert had been planned for that very moment - happy accident is what I call that.

I took a seat, and just listened...

I guess I missed this on the way in...

L'Eglise Saint-Roch reminded me of all of the other places in Paris I needed to see... but I still made room for an old standby for my afternoon gouter..

Tea and scones at A Priori Thé, is sometimes just what the doctor ordered on a lazy Sunday...

Fête du Travail

It's the Fête du Travail in France today - May 1st, Labor day.  AKA: no one goes to work and everyone buys little muguet bouquets to fêter the day.  Alors, last night my copine and I visited our friends in Melun, ate gigantic burgers, drank too much wine, decided we couldn't be bothered to take a late train home, and woke up to croissants, pain au chocolat, pain au raisin, baguettes with butter and jam, and endless cups of coffee, to bring in the bank holiday. 

For us it was more like the Fête des Carbohydrates.

We talked all things apartments since our friends had just purchased their place in December, and since Copain and I are obsessively house hunting. Naturally, after breakfast, on our walk around the adorable little town of Melun, we studied the hilarious real estate postings (while simultaneously digesting our carb feast):

You can live here, welcome guests, and organize lovely soirées with everyone you hold dear! All of this on 1300 meters squared of closed-in land, where your children can have fun en toute tranquilité .... while you enjoy a cocktail under the tonnelle.

Ah-mazing.

Melun was full of pink flower petals, twirling as they fell to the ground...

And though the sun was hiding, at least the flowers were out...

Once back in Paris, Copain and I admired the perky tulips as we walked along the rue des Francs Bourgeois...until the rain came pouring down, catching us both sans umbrella on our Labor Day promenade.  

April showers bring May....flowers torrential rain? 

Not Paris

We didn't put in an offer on the Vincennes apartment. I'm still kind of bummed about it. I had already mentally installed all of my furniture and imagined hefting groceries up the 5 flights of stairs.

After looking at the diagnostics (asbestos, lead, termites, electrical installations...), Copain felt like something was just a little "off". While we knew what we'd be getting into regarding the apartment, we had no idea what we were getting into regarding the attic - which was right above the apartment. If the roof was in bad shape, it would all flood into OUR apartment.

It also seemed strange to him that the apartment had been on the market for awhile and no one had purchased it yet. He just had a bad feeling.

In any case, all of his explanations made sense, but I think there is one very simple reason behind his hesitation...

The apartment is not in Paris.

Copain wants a Parisian address. He wants letters sent to Paris, and the city at his feet when he walks out the door. He wants the bustle, the culture, the simultaneous charm and grit of Paris. 

I get it - I want all those things too, and I almost feel like buying in the banlieue is somehow a failure, since I've always dreamt of Paris.  But I also want space, and cleanliness, and a place where maybe one day I would feel comfortable raising a family. Vincennes ticks all the boxes - and you can BIKE to Paris in 15 minutes or take a metro and get there in 5. 

I tell myself that it will all work out no matter where we buy an apartment, and that I have friends who live in both places and are just fine.  But I was already getting attached to that funky place with the mini-tub and green checkered-kitchen...

We visited another apartment yesterday - same general area as the first visit, 1900's building, 4th floor walk up, 57 meters squared, but it was "en enfilade" meaning that you walk through each room of the house to get to the next room and then finally, the bathroom.  It required A LOT of imagination and 50K to see how that problem could be fixed. Next!

The search continues! 

Dans les Rues de Paris - Le Printemps

My parents have called me Bug for as long as I can remember. My first birthday cake was in the shape of a ladybug, and when my Dad needs help with something, he usually calls out to me, "Hey Bug, can you get me that dish towel?" It's how it's always been.

So it was most definitely a good omen that this lovely Parisian ladybug - coccinelle- was hanging out near Place des Vosges on rue Pas de la Mule.

Copain saw her first:

She was stuck on a fence, so he took her to the park...

Where she flew away into a tree...where she would be happier.

Our walk continued to the Seine...

Where all the Parisians had flown to - because it was happier in the sun, near the water, the bikers, the roller bladers, and the trees, just starting to blossom for spring.

Vincennes Apartment

The apartment hunt continues in the Cannes Cannes household. Yesterday we had a rendezvous in Vincennes, just outside the limits of Paris on the line 1 metro. When you pop out at the exit Chateau de Vincennes (oh yeah, there is a chateau there), all of a sudden you are in Baby-town, France. Strollers a-go-go. Tricycles, scooters, snacks and... more strollers.

After about a 15 minute walk, we stopped in front of the 1930's, 5th floor walk-up we were about to visit. You heard me right - 5th floor walk up. That's actually 6th floor for all you Amuuuricaines out there; the French start with the rez-de-chaussée (ground floor) and then count from there, so what we call the second floor, they call the first. 

Our peppy agent immobilier took us through 2 security doors (a good thing) showed us the trash area in the hallway, pointed out the cave (basement), and then we all hiked up to the 5th floor. There was one door on each landing, and each landing had either A. plants, B. ladders or C. strollers.

Once we'd made it to the top, we walked inside and started our visit.  The apartment has parquet (wood floors), a living room with a prussienne chimney,  a large bedroom, a small bedroom with a regular chimney, a teeny bathroom with a funky tub, probably from the 30's, a separate WC and a normal-sized kitchen. All of the windows are double-paned except for those in the kitchen and WC. The ceilings are high, and it is en étoile - star-shaped - meaning that all of the rooms are fashioned around the main hallway. There is no wasted space (a bonus when you have barely any space to begin with!). In total, it measures about 53 meters squared.

Best not to forget anything on your way out the door...

Bedroom A

Living room

View from living room into the kitchen and hallway

Bedroom A, closet

Kitchen - no room for a dishwasher, unless you get creative

Teeny tub, teeny bathroom

We're not 100% sure we can afford it, but we kind of both had a coup de coeur - we just knew we loved it. It's about a 7-minute walk to the very center of town and the neighborhood is well-kept, as is the inside of the building. The added bonus for this apartment - whoever owns it can eventually purchase the attic and make a duplex! You know, like when we have an extra 200K lying around. 

There are lots of things that are a bummer - no parking, no balcony, no elevator, no bike storage (except for in the cave), but it feel so nice and homey inside. And as I've come to almost accept, we can only maybe afford this apartment because of these "point noir" as the French would say - these negative points. In short, we're going to have to make concessions.

As we got a tour of the town from our Vincennois friends and their two little boys - one in a stroller of course, I started brainstorming - could we RENT the first-floor neighbor's landing and park our bikes? How about our non-exisitent-but-maybe-one-day stroller? (we'll obviously be needing one in order to fit in here) Could I invent a stroller backpack? Some sort of pulley system?  

Then I got positive - I could have groceries delivered! I would always have toned buns and thighs! We would share walls with absolutely NO ONE! La rêve...

I can't stop thinking about this apartment, even if it's crazy-expensive. I mean, I started mentally moving in and placing furniture. But - we're waiting for the diagnostics before we really think about anything. For example, are the pipes made of lead? Is the electricity aux normes? Are there termites? How about the roof - any leaks? 

We did notice that the current owner had installed a fire alarm which happens uh, never in France. I'm certain it was a sign since I'm the queen of safety and fire alarms (I almost considered getting them for my neighbors for the holidays). The agent immobilier called the current owner a "maniac" - I call him smart. Don't you think this apartment was made for us????

We timed the metro ride back into Paris - only 5 minutes to Nation, about 8 to Bastille. Not bad, eh? Oh la la....I'll be keeping you posted mes amies.

Happy

All I can think about is scratching the upper half of my back, right below my neck. Why, you may ask-

Because I have a sunburn! A SUNBURN!

Normally, I would not be proud of this news. The girl who wears SPF 45 face cream every single day of the year, the one who recently invested in a wide-brimmed sun hat...

BUT - after 6 months of nothing but cold, rain, sleet and snow, I am ROCKIN this sunburn.

Parisians are finally alive again! I walked around my quartier in ballerines and leggings, enjoying the vide grenier, wishing I could buy this set of dishes and that old telephone from the fifties, then I plopped on a patch of grass read my book at Place des Vosges. It was such an amazingly sunny day that I  officially declared it "OK to Have Two Ice Creams Day".  As I meandered from the 11th to the Marais, I made sure that every street I walked on was sunny.

I also got right down to celebrating OK to Have Two Ice Creams Day - my first ice cream was mango, banana and coconut in a bowl, and my second was speculoos, chocolate chip and rhum raisin in a cone. Ahh, bliss.

I didn't even care that the kids playing in fountains were probably going to get some strange mutating diseases - part of me wanted to jump in and splash right along with them. 

Some American tourists were sitting behind me on the grass talking about their plan for the day. One turned to the other and said, "Everyone is just so happy."

Exactly - that's exactly right.