house-hunting
Keep watching this blog, because, things are happening. At this rate, I could write an exciting best seller – one at least you would read! Lots going on here!!! The unexpected happened, I signed for an apartment this weekend. Yahooo!! I was told this procedure takes quite a while in a place in which very few apartments are available. I went to agencies in the surrounding cities and was already getting down at the prospects of being homeless the rest of my life. I began to miss home, to miss having help from my parents. No kidding. My fault for not planning to schedule an appointment with the agencies before hand. Most housing agencies are closed on Saturday afternoon. However, during the week, I have been able to organize a few visits for Saturday evening. The first one I went to was really ghetto. No wonder the price was right.
I parked Odette in the car park and she was technically treated like she should be, i.e., as if she were a Ferrari or so. All eyes turned around to glare at the new arrival with the super stunning car. I was properly dressed since I know that my parents know the profile of their own visitors simply by the dress code. Here, however, I could have been wearing my most used jeans, I would still have stuck out like a sore thumb.
I wade past the number of smoking youths trying to look cool and arrive at the lift, which almost sounds like it were only hanging by a thread. Squeak squeak and I make it to the fourth floor, welcomed by what seemed to be a kindergarten of kids behind closed doors. Since there was an obvious party with loads of people in this flat and I couldn’t see any numbers anywhere, I rang the doorbell: “c’est qui???” yelled a few voices. “Euh, bonsoir, I am looking for flat number 11335, apartment block 5b”. After help from a 9 year old, I found the place I had come to visit.
This Moroccan family explained that it wasn’t a party, all those people live in those 30 m2. How can the borders veil such misery on one side and tremendous prosperity on the other? I felt bad for looking for the same amount of space for only one person. Don’t ask me why. I just felt really bad for them and knew, there was no way I could mentally face living the high life during the day and being the rich kid on the block in their environment in the evening.
You see, I am not looking necessarily to live with the French who all work in Switzerland. I love Africans and these Moroccans are so much more real that a whole lot of people I talk to daily. But out of a duty to protect Odette and my other belongings (myself), I wasn’t convinced. The location was not good although more space was offered for your money. This makes sense I guess. I made an inner note that I would take it if the other 4 couples backed out of their offer since the demand for flats in this area is so high, that I don’t have all that much choice. But I found something else instead.
This weekend I signed to live in Saint Julien-en-Genevois, about 15 minutes from my office. The price is right for here (these are Paris prices) although the place is fairly small. My new house is a studio in a residential part of the town. Bakery 1 min away, jogging possibilities nearby, balcony, interesting view, newly painted and new flooring throughout the flat (throughout is such a funny word when you know the size of the place), parking spaces reserved behind a sliding gate, underground parking facilities if I want: And we want, right, Odette? Storage space, new building with a feel of a ski village apartment. The building has wide corridors (the corridors are probably wider than my room) and the studio is semi-furnished. The landlord told me plenty of people were interested and I would have to move fast if I wanted it. So, I took it. Just like that, because 1: I can always move out, 2: I don’t have much time to look for something else, 3: because the flats on offer are very few and snapped up the same day for the most part.
I move in 1st December 2004 to my new home. Went back to sign yesterday with all the remaining money on my account. Yippee, this means I get to go back to Paris to get my belongings. Hey, I am coming hoooommmme!
I parked Odette in the car park and she was technically treated like she should be, i.e., as if she were a Ferrari or so. All eyes turned around to glare at the new arrival with the super stunning car. I was properly dressed since I know that my parents know the profile of their own visitors simply by the dress code. Here, however, I could have been wearing my most used jeans, I would still have stuck out like a sore thumb.
I wade past the number of smoking youths trying to look cool and arrive at the lift, which almost sounds like it were only hanging by a thread. Squeak squeak and I make it to the fourth floor, welcomed by what seemed to be a kindergarten of kids behind closed doors. Since there was an obvious party with loads of people in this flat and I couldn’t see any numbers anywhere, I rang the doorbell: “c’est qui???” yelled a few voices. “Euh, bonsoir, I am looking for flat number 11335, apartment block 5b”. After help from a 9 year old, I found the place I had come to visit.
This Moroccan family explained that it wasn’t a party, all those people live in those 30 m2. How can the borders veil such misery on one side and tremendous prosperity on the other? I felt bad for looking for the same amount of space for only one person. Don’t ask me why. I just felt really bad for them and knew, there was no way I could mentally face living the high life during the day and being the rich kid on the block in their environment in the evening.
You see, I am not looking necessarily to live with the French who all work in Switzerland. I love Africans and these Moroccans are so much more real that a whole lot of people I talk to daily. But out of a duty to protect Odette and my other belongings (myself), I wasn’t convinced. The location was not good although more space was offered for your money. This makes sense I guess. I made an inner note that I would take it if the other 4 couples backed out of their offer since the demand for flats in this area is so high, that I don’t have all that much choice. But I found something else instead.
This weekend I signed to live in Saint Julien-en-Genevois, about 15 minutes from my office. The price is right for here (these are Paris prices) although the place is fairly small. My new house is a studio in a residential part of the town. Bakery 1 min away, jogging possibilities nearby, balcony, interesting view, newly painted and new flooring throughout the flat (throughout is such a funny word when you know the size of the place), parking spaces reserved behind a sliding gate, underground parking facilities if I want: And we want, right, Odette? Storage space, new building with a feel of a ski village apartment. The building has wide corridors (the corridors are probably wider than my room) and the studio is semi-furnished. The landlord told me plenty of people were interested and I would have to move fast if I wanted it. So, I took it. Just like that, because 1: I can always move out, 2: I don’t have much time to look for something else, 3: because the flats on offer are very few and snapped up the same day for the most part.
I move in 1st December 2004 to my new home. Went back to sign yesterday with all the remaining money on my account. Yippee, this means I get to go back to Paris to get my belongings. Hey, I am coming hoooommmme!
posted by euphonies @ 8:48 AM
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