Le not so quaint Parisian apartment

Even the best of us trip up on the odd occasion, and it seems that no matter where my pink-sneakered footsteps take me,  a trail of chaos and adventure inevitably follows, as if haphazardly weaving its way into the story-line, whether I like it or not.  Eager to share tales of mischance and adversity, these episodes of calamity offer quite the unique take on my escapades abroad.  After all, rare is the sojourn that goes off without a hitch, a picture perfect fairy tale of unrealistic expectations.  No - in my world, passports are lost, planes leave without me, trains break down and hotels are oftentimes flea infested accommodations of the bug producing kind.  I therefore alternate between either renting apartments or staying in hotels when traipsing on foreign territory, and as desirable as it is to be pampered in a hotel, putting your feet up in the coziness of one’s own pad is oftentimes just the route to go.  Or, so I mistakenly thought….

Envisioning a picture window view

Envisioning my future Paris apartment

 And that is how I stumbled upon le chic Paris apartment, quite the affordable gem of a find in a bustling French neighbourhood, my new temporary digs away from home.  A quaint studio walk-up situated in the 2nd arrondissement along rue Montorgueil, the apartment was located in an area of town that I had not stayed in, my previous rental apartments occupying real estate in the 3rd arrondissement in Le Marais.  The price was right, it was available for rent on my requested dates and most importantly, the pictures on the website showcased a large floor to ceiling picture window, a cozy kitchen nook and best of all, it was literally steps away from shops and bistros.  No matter then that it was barely roomy enough to accommodate both the Kid and I, a mere 260 square feet of Parisian quaintness, it would nonetheless suffice for our five day stay.  What could go wrong?  Plenty, that is, if you tend to get freaked out about being sequestered in miniscule enclosed spaces, or, if you’re over the top claustrophobic, like you know who!

Little did I realize when I paid the deposit for our cute as a button apartment, that I would literally spend the majority of my time trying to figure out how to avoid returning to those cramped quarters at the end of the day, begging and pleading with the Kid to meander the darkened rues and avenues until our sore and blistered tootsies literally bled onto the pavement, leaving us no choice but to step foot into le dreaded confining cell of an apartment.

As le French taxi sped along the avenues, en route to le charming Parisian apartement, the Kid and I were beside ourselves with glee, eager to kick up our heels (Keds, to be exact), fling open our picture window and literally hang from the rafters as we celebrated la joie de vivre in our favourite city.  And then reality hit hard as our taxi screeched to an abrupt halt, and mercilessly catapulted us across the curb, dab smack in front of an edifice that was undergoing quite the renovation, a barricade of steel girders cautioning us to stay far, far away.  The imposing scaffolding effectively hid the entrance passage way from view, as if imploring would-be tenants to tread with trepidation and enter at their own risk.  In hindsight, my pink-sneakered feet should have just turned around and high-tailed themselves to the nearest hotel, but how was I to know what labyrinth of a maze lay ahead?

Le taxi en route to le quaint Parisian apartment....perhaps we should have gone to the Ritz instead!

 Punching in a five digit code, the proprietor led us through the first of two sets of automated doors, each of which required a swipe of an electronic card in order to open (like, seriously, are we in a vault or top-secret spy hideout?  And heaven forbid, what if there is a power failure and the doors refuse to click open and the Kid and I are trapped in the now black as night foyer?). The mere possibility of the likelihood of such an occurrence sent shivers of dread along my spine, memories of being trapped in the Middle Ages in the Historium still too raw to shake. 

My sense of unease was increasing with each step, as we snaked our way along the lengthiest and narrowest of hallways, burrowing deeper into the annals of one of the strangest of apartment complexes.  Navigating the now confining maze of corridors, turning left and then right and then left again, up the stairs, then round a corner, only to traverse yet another constricting corridor, I was seriously considering turning around and bolting for the exit, which, unfortunately for me, was nowhere in sight, for this labyrinth had me trapped like a fox in its snare. 

Le dejected sigh....wishing this was my apartment hallway...Le grand sigh.....

 After what seemed like an eternity, we rounded yet another corner and were finally deposited at our questionable dwelling at the top of the stairs. Well, at least it’s not in the basement, is near the attic and thus close to possible streams of daylight, so it might not be that dismal after all, I reasoned, all the while chiding my over-active imagination for once again leading me down that well worn path of delusional and irrational thought.

Could it get any worse?  Well, dear reader, it did, as the bolt stubbornly refused to budge yet even a millimetre, forcing le cool as a cucumber Parisian landlord to laboriously huff and puff as he finagled with the latch, all the while chuckling that getting into the apartment was clearly not as difficult as getting out of the apartment.  Say what?  Apparently, the previous tenant had accidentally locked himself inside, with the temperamental bolt having jammed the door shut, thus sequestering the distraught foreigner inside, freaking him out sufficiently enough to warrant a late night rescue phone call to Monsieur.  Are you kidding me?

Should have moved into the Palace of Versailles instead....

Welcome home!!

Come traverse a labyrinth of mazes as you snake your way to your steal of a deal Paris apartment, all the while encountering a few roadblocks as you stumble along the way…

Next week - Yikes!!  What next?  Do we stay or do we go?  Stay tuned for more on our Parisian adventures!!  

0 Response to "Le not so quaint Parisian apartment "

Post a Comment