I'm right again, I'm Chinatown

Let it be no secret that I absolutely ADORE the Chinatown of Paris. Nestled near the periphery in the 13th arrondissement, it’s more subdued than the North American Chinatowns I’ve visited, and at the same time, doesn’t really feel like Paris too much. I guess it makes sense that a girl who doesn’t really dig the local flavour might seek refuge in the city’s more ethnic neighbourhoods. Classy French Chinatown, you are one of the few things I will miss along with Jewish falafels, Sojade soygurt, and inexpensive (yet delicious!) red wine.

Back then the hunger artist captured the attention of the entire city

Last week I went to Prague on a whim and it was Flunching awesome. I cured myself of gangrene with a pair of toenail clippers in my motel room, got lost on a mountain, and lit candles in seven cemeteries. A taste!

The sun sets not at nine

Early may, and dusk has been lasting till almost 10pm! Here is the view from my window the last time the moon was (almost) full. Paris, like a piece of art you can't touch.

Oh, I also finally braved the crowds of people often gathered in front of the sparse counter of the Rose Bakery on Rue Des Martyrs to sample a soy latté at the only place in Paris you can get soy in your coffee other than Starbucks! Verdict? Totally decent. Provamel soymilk over the 'bucks watery Bjorg brand anyday, yes please. The staff were perplexed about my request not being on the menu, though. Amateurs be warned: ordering a "soy mocha hold, the mocha" might alleviate the potential complicatedness of your transaction. And because it took me months to track this place down, I will post it on the Internet one more time in hopes of helping lactose intolerant and vegan guests of Paris from around the world: you can get a soy latté in Paris, France, at the Rose Bakery! It even boasts two locations: 30, Rue Debelleyme in the Marais, and 46 Rue Des Martyrs in the 9th. Enjoy!

I sometimes forget...

Pour obtenir une assistance, une modification ou une réservation, veuillez appeler vacances transat France au 01 56 93 4100 du lundi au vendredi de 10h à 17h. Samedi et dimanche fermés.

Mardi, 13:27. Beep. Vacances transat bonjour?

Oui bonjour, j’appelle pour devancer un billet d’avion?

Alors il faudra rappeler dans une demie heure madame, en ce moment nous sommes tous en pause déjeuner. Au revoir!

J’oublie parfois que je vis dans un monde où le déjeuner est le repas pris en milieu de journée, où les employés mangent tous ensemble en famille et que cette heure de lunch durera jusqu’à ce que le dernier collègue de travail aura fini son dernier petit raisin. J’oublie parfois qu’en France, notre lieu de travail ne diffère pas vraiment de notre lieu d’habitation, et que si le téléphone sonne pendant ce premier repas pris en plein milieu de journée (mis apart le croissant matinal, bouffé dans le métro avec café express, bien sûr), nous répondrons d’une manière des moins chaleureuses. Si une cliente désire changer son billet d’avion en plein après midi (quelle horreur !) nous sommes polis, mais notre ton sera juste assez glacial pour communiquer à cette cliente qui ose nous appeler qu’elle a effectivement oublié dans quel pays qu’elle se retrouve, qu’en France, nous ne savons pas afficher nos heures de DÉJEUNER sur nos horaires, que nous ne savons pas nous servir d’un RÉPONDEUR, que nous ne songerions jamais à prendre nos pauses à des heures différentes afin d’offrir un service continu pour compenser pour nos piètres heures d’ouvertures malgré que nous soyons ce qui semble être un CENTRE D’APPEL, que nous sommes précieux, quoi.

I sometimes forget that I live in a world where lunch is not only the first meal of the day, but is also taken very late. I sometimes forget that coworkers all tend to eat together as a family, and that said lunch break will last until the very last coworker has finished that very last grape. I sometimes forget that in France, one’s workplace is no different than one’s home, and should the telephone dare to ring during this first meal of the day (discounting any croissants that might have been scarfed down during that crowded metro commute to work) taken in the very middle of the day, we shall respond in a manner that is dry and curt. If a client should wish to change her plane ticket in the middle of the afternoon (the horror!) we shall be polite, but just icy enough to let her know that she has indeed forgotten just where she living, that in France, we know not how to advertise our lunch hours on any documents advertising our opening hours, that we have zero use for automated messages, that we would NEVER think to take our lunch breaks at different times so that we may offer continuous service throughout the day as a means to compensate for our meagre hours of operation even though we are what seems to be some sort of call centre. How precious.