Un autre jour, un autre aventure pour moi à Paris!

It’s never dull.

This morning started with my friends on the scaffolding. I was still in my PJ’s making coffee, bien sûr. Honestly, at this point, I almost offered them a cup. I mean… we’re getting close. They were painting my window frames today.

I changed my clothes in the small bathroom (the only area without windows) and took a sponge bath since I still don’t have hot water. But it’s okay, because my case has been labeled an “Emergency,” so I figure they should be here any day. (I kid!) It’s another beautiful day here, so I decided to wear my workout clothes since I might go for a run dans le jardin du Luxembourg.

I was studying my French when there was a knock at the door. VERY unusual, but not surprising with all that is going on with the apartment. A young man stood before me and was here to check the Internet. Of course he spoke no English whatsoever. I had him come in and pointed to the bedroom where the tv and various connecting boxes reside. Non, Madame. Ce n’est pas Internet. Eh bien… je ne sais pas où c’est. I only know that it doesn’t work. We searched the small apartment. He found it under an end table. Then he got down to work. Jacket off, pulling countless wires off the unit and from the wall. Some he gave me to throw away. He also asked if he could borrow my charger for his phone. Sure! Why not! After 10 minutes of wire wrangling, he stood and asked me to come with him, saying I’d need my shoes and a coat, as we were going outside. OKaaaaaaay. This is new. Well, here we go! Another day in the “LisaH in Paris” world!

We RAN down the tight spiral stairs because, I swear, unless they’re dining, Parisians really move at quite the clip. (I’ll never get over this and it must be why they’re all so skinny.) Once outside he asked ME where a specific street was. I didn’t know the street. He looked around and asked a man next to us who was getting on his bike, if he knew where the street was, and the guy gave him directions, while pointing. But I have to take a minute here. The politeness with which French people address each other is something to behold. These two guys didn’t know each other. The workman was in a hurry. The other guy? Not so much. The level of civility is unmatched. Bonjour, monsieur. Bonjour. He asks where the specific street is, and when he is given the answer, he takes a moment and thanks him, wishing him a good day, and then says good-bye. All of which was repeated by the other guy. Total eye contact throughout. Total respect. Wow.

But I digress.

The guy takes off and I am basically in hot pursuit because as you know by now, fast — and this guy was next level. Everything he said and did was FAST. I literally had a hard time keeping up and as I mentioned, I was in my running gear and shoes. Down the street, made a right, then slight uphill on the next street and straight for another block. (Where are we going, and why do I need to be here?) We reach an area where there is a trap door in the sidewalk. He starts using tools to open this door, and does so. It is quite the drop — down to the Paris sewer level, I’m thinking. He’s now wearing a headlamp, which appeared out of nowhere. Then he pulls out a package from his pocket, unrolls it, and hands it to me. It’s a bright orange hazard vest. (OMG, seriously, what am I doing here? ) He asks me to put it on – in the middle of the day on a Paris street with people dining all around at the cafés, etc. And of course, I oblige. He opens the protective cage barrier, asking me to wait there as he starts his descent. Aha. I finally get it. I’m basically the human orange traffic cone. He doesn’t want pedestrians accidentally falling into the abyss. I’m there to ensure this doesn’t happen. And now I cannot stop laughing at the situation I’m in. Can you imagine this EVER happening in the U.S.?

I love this city and its people and workers.

A few passersby gaze at me in my ensemble (remember, running gear, jacket, and now a neon orange safety vest) and then peer down the hatch. A few smile just a little. After awhile the worker comes up out of the shaft, headlamp on, and I half expect him to be covered in black coal. All finished there, we head back to the apartment. This time, he walked by my side and we chatted a bit, which was pleasant. Then we raced back upstairs and into the apartment. It turns out, all the lines in the street are good. The problem is the machine. So his work here is done. I reluctantly hand back the vest. Why? Because for a minute I had this awesome thought that I wanted to follow him on the rest of his jobs today. I would’ve enjoyed that. Anyway, he very neatly rolled up the vest, thanked me for the phone charging – and politely wished me good day a bid me farewell, as he headed to his next job.

I contacted the agency with the news. A new Internet box is being sent to me, and they had been hoping the new box would have arrived before the guy left so that he could connect it. They told me to make sure I returned the old box and all of its cables, so of course I pulled those two out of the trash. And now I am hesitant to leave the premises because the water heater guy could show up next, or the delivery of the new Internet box could appear. Stay tuned.

As my son once said to me, “Only you, Mom, this kind of stuff only happens to you, adding and I lived in New York!”

Hearing church bells as I type, wondering if it’s Saint-Sulpice, where I lived last time.