London days

Grand Designs...
Bargain Hunt...
Teletubbies...
Ads about Argos...

Satellite TV installed today. Now I'm back in the world of English (and UK) TV. And it brings me back to the good ole' days in London...

The Chinese are taking over Part II

When I step into the one of the biggest department stores in Paris, Printemps, I feel at home. Why? Because every other face I see are East Asians. They could be Japanese, Koreans, Chinese, Singaporeans, Malaysians, Hong Kongers, etc, but I'm going to bet you that they are likely Chinese from the PRC.

The main doors into the store had stickers advertising opening and closing times and tax refund services - in Chinese. I am not even sure there was an English sign.

When you ruffle through a stack of store map pamphlets, and find a big chunk of the Chinese version with no English version in sight, you know what language their biggest customer demographic speak.

There was a queue to go into the Chanel store. Yes, they are East Asians.

The three tax refund services found on 3 different floors had desks manned by East Asians. (I know because I visited each floor to apply for the store credit/discount card. The first customer service rep said they have "no more cards". What the h*ll?? Refusing to believe that Printemps could run out of the store cards, I went in search of someone else who knows what they are talking about. Of course I was right.)

I was told that the sales staff at LV and other big-name stores who speak Mandarin are given a higher commission rate.

Perhaps I should start learning Mandarin instead of French while I'm here.

Toilet Milk?

Living in France means one cannot take things for granted because of the language barrier. I am not talking about "advanced" stuff like asking your bank to change your mailing address because mails going to your office NEVER find their way to you because the mailroom keeps sending it to the canteen and janitor department. I am not talking about ordering food at a "Chinese" restaurant in Paris' Chinatown because even though the menus are printed only in Chinese or Vietnamese and French (all of which I cannot read), you can always bet a waiter can understand enough Mandarin or Cantonese for you to order something simple. I am not even talking about trying to figure out the motive for murder on tonight's episode of CSI because it is all dubbed in French, and you can't change it to English. (Yes, it is rather strange to hear Gary Sinise and David Caruso speak fast, fluent French)

I am talking about going to the local supermarket to buy basic necessities and groceries. Familiar brands are replaced by lots of French brands that mock my ignorance. What used to be the simplest, most brainless activity morphed into hour-long debates with myself.

"Now, I need fresh milk. OK, let's see what they have. No, not UHT (long life milk). I want fresh milk. What's the French word for fresh milk? Lait frais? Yes...looks like it. It has the right consistency. But why is it that they only have 10 cm worth of fridge space for lait frais and only in 2 different brands, but 10 feet worth of space for all the other bewildering brands and types of lait? Could lait frais be some bizarre French liquid cream or liquid cheese concoction? Can I take the risk?"

(Yes, it turns out that lait frais IS fresh milk, and that the French supermarkets stocks a much bigger selection of UHT milk than fresh milk)

" OK, eggs next. What is the difference between eleve en plein air and the others? And what the h*ll is eleve plein air?"

(it means free-range)

"Right, I need laundry detergent and softener. Aha! This must be laundry detergent. Adoucissant. Right. Now where's the softener? Hmm...[followed by 10 minutes of comparing the brands and words on all the bottles and boxes in the aisle]...I think adoucissant is NOT laundry detergent. Why is it that they all have the same picture of a laundry basket? Oh wait, this one has a picture of a very soft blanket with a little boy resting his head on it and looking very comfortable. So this could be a softener. Or maybe it's just a picture of a very clean blanket that the boy is most happy with?"

(Turns out adoucissant is a laundry softener. Laundry detergent is lessive)

Now repeat the above self-conversations with multiple other products: dish detergent, floor cleaner, ham, bread, shower gel, etc.

French lessons for people moving to France should really focus on these important daily necessities, rather than learning how to conjugate verbs.

My booty after 2 hours at the local Monoprix supermarket

Speaking of which, I saw a Nivea product labelled "Lait du toilette", which is directly translated as toilet milk. I'm guessing that I don't need one of those, but if you know something I don't, please enlighten me.

So THIS is how it is supposed to be...

Today I decided to pay a visit to the maestro of macaroons, Pierre Herme. First, I must confess that I do not like macaroons. I find them too sweet, and has a rather repulsive plasticky aftertaste. But, you know, when in Rome...etc.

I dutifully went in search of the branch on the rue du Bonaparte in the 6th arrondissement. It was not difficult to spot because there was a short queue outside the shop, even under a light drizzle. At first glance, it looked like an exclusive jewellery shop because the storefront was done up in black, nothing like your typical patisserie.

After a 10-minute wait, here was what I ended up with:

Dessert bliss costs EUR 12.75

My verdict?

So, THIS is what all the fuss is about! THIS is how it is supposed to be! The skin was light and crispy; the fillings just the right level of sweet and flavour. It certainly cheered up my lonely drizzling Saturday night.

Good things are trickling in

I have been quiet these past 3-4 weeks because, well, life has been quiet. It is busy at work, but that makes for really boring reading, doesn't it? Outside of work, life was slow.

In fact, for the first 2 weeks, my life was at a standstill. I was still pretty much a nomad, a guest, a temporary visitor. I could not find an apartment. I did not have an activated bank account. I had no access to things at work, including the printers, the shared network, the canteen, heck, even the building. I had to request for a visitor badge every day at the reception. My department paid for my lunches everyday (hmm....that is not such a bad thing, is it?) I had to bat my eyelashes and put on a nice smile to ask my colleagues (who, by the way, are very gracious each time I ask) to print my papers for me.

And why did I not have access? Well, let's just say that the French have very, very,...very specific ways of working that makes it impossible for anyone who did not belong from accessing any facilities. You have to earn that right, and you start by speaking French. That pretty much eliminates me.

The weather was miserably cold, such that all I could do was to scurry from my hotel to the metro station every morning and in the reverse route every evening, hurrying from one warm place to another. Weekends were also spent mostly indoors, by choice and by design, because shops are closed on Sundays and have short hours on Saturdays.

At the beginning of my 3rd week, suddenly, things began to fall in place. They were small things, but hey, I am going to appreciate every tiny, miniscule step forward here. I was finally given my employee badge that allows me into the building and to pay for food in the canteen. Through a serendipitous stroke of luck, I could access the printers and network. I finally found an apartment that I could live with (no pun intended). Travel got easier when, through my extremely limited and laughable broken French, I managed to obtain a travel pass for residents of Paris.

Hurrah for the Navigo!! No more carnets!

(although I do think these paper tickets have much more character than a plastic card)

I still don't have a computer or a mobile phone or a working bank account, and I still live out of a suitcase, but I can see that (itsy-bitsy) good things are trickling in....