Robinson Crusoe

Robinson Crusoe

Yep, Robinson f**cking Crusoe! Since the apartment-hunt is not going all that well, for now I'm stranded on a little island the natives call Magny-les-Hameaux.
It's a little suburb about one hour outside of Paris and actually quite accessible from the city. So the Robinson metaphor might be a little exaggerated. Or maybe poetic, depending on how you look at it. But the metaphor was too hard to resist, as the village is largely deserted during the day since everyone who lives there works in Paris

The upside: You can walk in the middle of the main street, singing at the top of your lungs, since there is nobody there to hear you, or run you over. It's quite fun, I tried!
The downside: There is not really anywhere to go to, unless you wanna hang out with the 2-3 school dropouts smoking cigarettes and drinking soda outside the supermarket. Yeah Soda!They're not even proper alcoholics or at least crack-addicts! Yet...
Class starts next week, so at least I'll have something to do during the day, and as I said: The connection to Paris is not too bad. Still, I'm hoping to find a an apartment soon.
Till then: Waiting for Friday! ( Not a metaphor! I'm really looking forward to a good night out.)

Jardin du Luxembourg

Jardin du Luxembourg

The sun is still nurturing the soil with it's warmth, but all the brown leaves barely holding on to the branches of the chestnut trees are already announcing the arrival of autumn.

After leading of with the single most poetic sentence I've ever written down or even thought of. I guess my first visit to the “Jardin du Luxembourg” can be summed up with just a few quick observations:

1. I don't think I've ever seen pigeons that fat, and I've been to Venice!
   
   
2. It's incredible how many people have the time to go for a run at 11:30am. They are like herds of buffaloes
   
   
3. The only place more packed than the running track and all the cafes is the McDonald’s in between them.
   National Pride? Not so much!
   
   
4. Oh yeah! The park is really beautiful.

La Sorbonne

La Sorbonne

My first contact with the university is scheduled for Tuesday 11am. I don't really know what I need to do it just says: “Rendez-vous”. I figured it's probably not a date, but apart from that I have absolutely no clue. I'm a little nervous, especially since I haven't figured out my schedule yet.

First thing I realize arriving at the Sorbonne: It is massive.

The second thing: The staircases are marked with letters but god forbid putting them in alphabetical order! Staircase F. 40m down the hall: Staircase Q. Another 30m: Staircase J. What???

After about 20min of running around the building, whilst passing the same people 2-3 times, probably looking more and more confused with every walk-by, I finally find staircase I and the Erasmus office.

Name?

Steffen Börschel!

Here's your student ID. Off you go!

A one hour train ride, 20 minutes of running around in circles, 15 minutes of waiting outside the office, and all I got was a lousy one minute meeting...

It's an almost italianesque efficiency.

The departure

 The departure

Here we are with the second post (do you call them “posts”?) of my blog. The “Blog au vin” as it is known to connaisseurs:

So the day has arrived. Ze German is heading to Paris. He still hasn't got anything figured out really. But hey, it's only Paris. How hard can it be?

Thanks to my widely spread out family I have a place to stay for a bit. I'm guessing I'll handle the apartment situation from there. But then there is this other thing: They want to know what I am actually gonna do over there. “They” being my university back in Germany, and “I” being the guy that really doesn't know what he’s gonna do. I can see a conflict rising!

Maybe if there was a halfway decent homepage showing me my options I could have at least given it some thought.

As I am writing this bit I'm on the last of my three trains: “Déstination – Paris Est”. For some reason my seat is in the quiet area which is quite ironic seeing as I spent the last two hours on a train with a bunch of football fans travelling to Frankfurt, who were about as loud as they were drunk. I fairly enjoy the alcohol myself, but at 9 o clock on a Sunday morning, really? I wonder how many of them actually made it to the game..?

Now as we are approaching the French border the smell of arrogance is getting stronger, but that might just be the stockbroker next to me acting all important multitasking his blackberry and I Pad at the same time. Pretty sure if he really was all that important he would not be travelling second class. But then again: We are in a crisis.

Finally in Paris! First impression: Paris might actually be the only city I know where you walk out of the station into a beautiful square without hookers and dealers; or at least as far as I have seen. But that little cigarette break was my only impression of the city itself for today. Another one hour metro ride to my uncles’ place and here I am, in a quiet little suburb. Not very bohemian at all. Gotta work on that…Starting tomorrow!

Greetings from the restless traveller.