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! 

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.

Banlieue

Banlieue.

It's one of those words that Parisians hear and shudder. To them, banlieue basically means, "not Paris", and it's deeply upsetting for 99.9% of Parisians to even consider living there.

When friends decide that they want to end their lives as renters and enter the world of home-ownership, only the lucky few, who have either top-knotch salaries or VERY generous parents, get to keep calling Paris their home. All the others move to (gasp!) the banlieue. (Or they just rent forever, always an option).

You see, Paris is a very defined space. The city, which has grown immensely since it was first inhabited, waaaaay back in the day, has now been encircled by the périphérique - the motorway.  Inside the périphérique is the coveted 75 zip code - AKA, Paris; but outside (yeah, even just on the other side of it) - yikes, you jump into 92, 93, 94 territory. It is NOT a good situation. 

See all the gray parts? That's not Paris.

Long story short: you move to the banlieue and A. no one visits you anymore (you live "too far away"!), B. you are even more dependent on public transportation, C. you are no longer Parisian.  Long story even shorter: no one really wants to live in or go to the banlieue.

So why do people move there, you ask? It's simple: it's slightly less expensive than ridiculously, outrageously expensive, Paris. Instead of a teeny, tiny Parisian apartment, you may be able to afford a small-ish apartment in the banlieue. I'm talking 550 square feet, if you are lucky. Your children *may* be able to enjoy having an actual room instead of a closet. See, lots of great options out there.

The reason I'm bringing up this whole banlieue thing, is because Copain and I are actually considering considering an apartment there. Yes, I meant to write "considering" twice. We are considering the idea of considering the banlieue. It's kind of depressing. 

After visiting about 8 apartments in Paris and seeing the sad state of affairs / apartments that we could buy, we had to think outside Paris the box. The apartments we saw were a mix of "newly refurbished" and "in shambles", "well-placed" and "out in the middle of nowhere", "all you have to do is gut it" and "see, that parking lot view is not so bad for such a great location!" but they did have one thing in common: they were all out-of-this-world expensive. I'm talking around 400,000 Euros (not including notary fees!!) for a shoebox. Here is the problem with shoeboxes - they don't work well for families. For now it's just me and Copain, but what about when mini-Frenchie comes along? I'm all for making do, but I think that making your child sleep in the bathtub could be deemed cruel and unusual punishment.

On Monday I told Copain that on Saturday we would visit, DUM DUM DUM....the banlieue! I made a list of places that we would check out, including: Saint-Mandé (expensive banlieue), Vincennes (expensive banlieue), Charenton-le-Pont (slightly-less expensive banlieue) and Saint-Maurice (almost-affordable banlieue). Guess which one is the furthest from Paris? Exactly. However, the one thing that all of these towns have going for them is that they border the Bois de Vincennes - the woods located on the east side of Paris. They are family-friendly, clean, have a reputation for being safe, and all of them (except for Saint-Maurice) also border Paris. The fact that they *touch* Paris on one side is like, really important - just ask any Parisian.

We totally followed through with my banlieue tour plan today, and walked all the way from Saint-Mandé, down to Saint-Maurice, up to Charenton-le-Pont and then hopped on a bike back to Paris. The entire time we tried to convince ourselves that we liked each place. Our conversation was peppered with - look, a park! this is cute! see there is life here! wow, I feel safe - how about you? doesn't this seem like a great area? It was like watching an awkward coming of age movie - two teens, first kiss, trying to convince each other that, no, you're a really great kisser! Needless to say, our relief upon arrival in Paris was palpable - we could finally relax and breathe again. Basically, the banlieue is a bad kisser and we both knew it but didn't want to say anything. Nothing can replace Paris.

Next weekend we've planned for another banlieue tour, this time on the other side of the city. We will be homeowners someday... but for now, I'll just blog about my banlieue adventures from my taupe couch in the teeniest apartment of them all. In Paris.