Yesterday I went to the most famous flea market in Paris, it’s right down the street from where I live, it’s the Port de Clingancourt flea market. It’s fucking amazing. Mom would shit her pants for the antiques, and all of my buffalo exchange coworkers would shit their collective pants for the vintage clothing and ample jewelry and all around good deals—keep in mind this is still a Parisian flea market so you’re not getting the same deals as at the fairground flea market in burque, but you’ve got a much more amazing selection ranging from the same box of broken vcr remotes to high end antique furniture and paintings. It’s kind of amusing the differences of merchandise though. In burque where you would have a vendor selling his Chicano clothes such as virgin Guadalupe sweaters and air brushed Jesus crying oversized t-shirts, in Paris they sell shitty “Americana” clothes. This is quite amusing to me, as they have “college sweaters” of schools they made up the names for that look completely absurd, and now the fad is the ‘vintage’ varsity jacket with made up schools. This is so ironic because I try to look as un-American as possible, and the less economically advantaged French want to look like Americans…how strange. I’ll go back and take pictures one day.
In addition to all the crap ‘Americana’ clothes they sell, they sell a lot of really cheap trendy clothes, cheaper than h&m. I must go back for these and the vintage when I win the French lottery….maybe I’ll mug someone for Christmas.
So, as you all know I love to go out, meet people and drink. Well, being a broke ass foreign exchange student in the expensive city of lights, it is challenging to do so on a budget, but entirely possible. So here are my tips: (applicable in any city in the world)
Pregame: while you get ready with cheap wine . You can actually get some decent cheap wine at Franprix for 2-4 euros, have a glass in between changing outfits because you know it’s so hard to decide on one. Also, if you’re going out alone with the intention of meeting people in a foreign country, this helps a lot.
Smoke:
So get a lil sauced up and hit the metro, pick your favorite bar in your niche, scope out the groups of people mingling outside smoking. If you don’t smoke, you should start (unless you care about your health, but that’s what your late 20’s and beyond are for); this is the easiest and least awkward way to meet people without looking too desperate. So put a cigarette in your mouth, pretend like you’re searching for your lighter, dig through all of your pockets even though you know it’s in your left breast pocket under your pack of cigarettes. “excuqez moi, avez vouz un brique” –excuse me, do you have a lighter,--they will obviously and bam you have something in common you’re both trying to kill your lungs! It’s the perfect segway into conversation…thank you for the light, I love your coat, earrings, blah blah hello you have a new friend. And generally if they’re older or look richer or what have you cougars, they’ll always buy your drinks without even telling you…at least in my case; but careful with who you let buy your drinks, things can get creepy and you have to go to another bar. But at any rate—this is my method for going out and meeting strangers. Works like a charm.
Anyway, every day is such a lovely adventure in a foreign country (unless you’re having a bitchy day, then it’s a pain in the ass to talk to anyone) such menial tasks and situations are at a new heightened sense of meaning…oh I’m grocery shopping…..IN FRANCE! I don’t know if I wrote this already, but usually at the grocery store I take a million years to cross reference which toilet paper is the better buy in my mental index according to its material sourcing, package design, green rating, and cost effectiveness…so now it takes me a billion years to do it in French. At any rate, I’ve been going to Franprix a lot lately (they’re like a mini grocery store in every neighborhood comparable to smiths) to familiarize myself with the basics of buying food here, and also I’m way too intimidated by those picturesque open air markets, which I will go to only when accompanied by a strong French speaker.
The reason for this is because, in my neighborhood at least at the time of day I just went, it was chaos. Lovely chaos though, fruits and vegetables everywhere smelling beautiful, people haggling, vendors yelling, sidewalks completely filled…but as I’ve said before, when I’m in the spotlight I sometimes freeze up on my French vocabulary and stare like a deer in the headlights, and in this neighborhood it’s the real Paris, and they do not cater to tourists. But I want that god damn fresh French produce—I’ve been told they don’t have genetically modified fruits and vegetables, and if they are it has to say it in the package -- so I’m going to get my French friend, and I will get that precious fruit I’m so afraid to order.—So I just walk through the markets staring at the produce longingly and keep on marching along
(sidenote: children pee on the sidewalk here all the time under parental supervision, and it adds to the theory that children are like little old drunkards [missing hair and teeth, terrible balance and hand-eye coordination, fighting, screaming, dancing as they wish and not giving a shit]
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