What have I done so far?

Going out, exploring, getting lost, riding the metro, buying a loofah…all these things pose certain challenges for me right now. I have to force myself to get dressed, look semi-cute, make sure I have my keys/purse/carte navigo/water bottle/hand sanitizer/camera, and actually leave my chamber de bonne. Once I’m walking, enjoying the fresh air and sunny, 70 degree weather, I begin to relax. I realize the weather right now can’t get any better, and I will really miss this come December. The idea of walking a mile to my metro stop will not sound so appetizing on a frigid winter night. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!

My first outing was to Le Marais neighborhood. Apparently it’s quite the place of nightlife in Paris (especially the gay scene) but as I was there on a Sunday afternoon…I just walked around the Place des Vosges, an especially scenic square with many little shops and a garden in the middle. I also learned that “Hotel” in a name does not mean it’s an actual hotel. It’s usually just a big important building. I think. So when I walked into Hotel du Sully, it was a grand palatial home of an important French duke. Now…it’s a museum. Like a baby Versailles.

My second outing was this Thursday. First I went to the BNP Paribas bank to get a credit card and account. Thank god an older womean there spoke broken English. And because I’m under 29, the account was free. Thanks socialist French! Always looking out for those post-adolescents. My paycheck every month is 375 Euros. Wow…that’s…nothing! We’ll see how far that goes. As long as I don’t eat, travel, or shop, I’ll be fine. Then I took the Metro to Bastille, thinking it would be a short walk to the Pere Frachaise Cimetiere, the very famous cemetery where everyone who is anyone is buried. Short walk…more like 45 minutes! By the time I got there I didn’t have much time to explore, as I needed to pick up the kids up by 4.

But, I took some great pictures and of course had to make the “pilgrimage” to see Jim Morrison’s grave. A cliché for every American bro. There was a crowd of Anglo-Saxons there, just gazing lovingly at his simple grave covered with fake flowers and cheesy cards. Obviously, I’m not a Doors fan.

Thursday night with the kids, I finally lost my temper with Nolan. He either ignores me when I ask him to do something or screams/whines back. It’s quite charming. So when I asked him to go do his homework before watching TV, he yelled in my face and tried to storm off. I grabbed his arm, led him to his room, and yelled, “You’re going to your room and doing your homework RIGHT NOW. Jesus Christ, stop acting like such a little baby!”

Um…I don’t think I have yelled that loud in years. And, will I get in trouble for saying Jesus Christ? That kid is going to be death of me. Every day is a test with him. Perhaps he is too old for a tu-tu (what kids here call au pairs) but he still acts like a whiney, spoiled, manipulative brat—and that’s how I will treat him! I found out the dad is 51 years old, which in my opinion is just too damn old to have these little kids.

Friday! I found there is an elevated garden in Paris close to me, built upon an old tramway that was rotting away. The High Line in Chelsea (which everyone in New York brags about and Leanne took me to once) is based on it. I can literally walk from my front door to the start of it (or end of it, depending on where you come from.) It’s a great walk, lots of foliage and people about. No cars to worry about, and only a couple bicycles to run you over. In the middle you hit the Jardin de Reuilly which is basically a large lawn for everyone to lay out in their skimpy underwear and have an ice cream. I might have take some stalker pictures. You finally pop out in the middle of the Bastille Metro stop, which I then took back home. (What, you think I’m gonna walk the three miles back home?!) Sadly, all this walking is wearing my American legs out. I need to get strong! It’s pretty pathetic when a couple hours of walking and sight-seeing can tire a 25-year-old out.

I made it home just in time to pick the kids up and go to an always-crowded park near the house. Nolan played football with his friends while Dara played in the playground’s sandpile. I am probably the worst au pair in the world. Dara got her shoes wet while walking there and I just let her go barefoot. Barefoot on a huge metropolitan city street. What, I couldn’t carry her that far?! And, I pretty much lost her in the playground for twenty minutes and wasn’t even worried. I was just wondering if I had time to sneak off to the bathroom. Is this behavior normal?