MARCH 31, THURSDAY

BABE IN THE WOODS

I am in my new Airbnb apartment. Becauase the 1st floor in France is the 2nd floor in the United States I thought my third floor French apartment would be up four flights of steps. But there were only three flights of stairs, thank goodness, and I can do them without collapsing or even breathing too hard. But now I don‘t know what floor I am on. I was given three keys and a little purple plastic door opener device on a keychain when I was briefly introduced to the apartment by a non French appearing young man, maybe from North Africa who spoke little English and was in too much of a hurry to give me instructions. I won‘t see him again for a month. The huge key is to the apartment, called a studio for some reason, with a large enough room with a fold out couch, a small kitchen and a very small bathroom but with all the amenities including a refrigerator, stove and what Americans call a toaster oven.

I went down the hill to a big Carrefour grocery store and stocked up on basics. But before going down I had to get out of the building. There were two doors downstairs, both locked, and in between them a vestibule with post boxes. I couldn’t get out of the first door no matter where I placed the little device that was going to automatically open the door. I waited until someone came. Off to the left was a nondescript button that opens the door. Coming back when I tried to get into the building the little purple device made a buzzing sound but no matter how hard I pushed I couldn’t get the door open. Finally, by accident, as it buzzed I pulled and the door opened.

For dinner I tried to heat up what I thought (I couldn’t read the French) was a Chinese dinner of chicken and vegetables. There is a glass stovetop with two burners and with two apparent power signs with a plus and minus on each side. I think I got one of the burners to work but when I tried to increase the heat with the plus button the lighted markers went off and I couldn‘t get the burner started again.

I heated the Chinese (?) meal in the toaster oven without knowing whether it was set on broil or bake because the shortcut clues were indecipherable. I waited a while as the timer, which I also couldn‘t decipher, whirred. After a while I took my Chinese meal out, luke warm, but warm enough, and ate it. It was good enough but I still didn‘t know if it was Chinese or not.

The on/off, hot/cold circular device that controls the water in the bathroom sink takes getting used to. Up and down turns the water on and off, turning the round serrated circle on the side controls the temperature as I learned when I put my hand into the spray and almost burned it off. So I will have to get into the shower very carefully and not touch anything if I hope to come out alive.

I didn‘t risk a shower. After eating I got sleepy and decided to pull out the fold out couch. I pulled and I pulled and I pulled. I could raise the couch up enough to see that there was a pull out bed under there. But I couldn‘t find any lever to release it. So finally I gave up and slept on the couch, just as it was, consoling myself by thinking it was really quite comfortable and I was saving space in the small room and I wouldn‘t have to figure out how to refold it in the morning. I slept very well so I‘m not going to worry about it, even thought it is a little short and tilts slightly.

Also, only one of the wall sockets in Hotel Tim worked. In all the others whenever I plugged a cord in the plug just popped out and dropped to the floor. I almost complained at the desk but then decided to make do with the one that worked and my extension cord. And then, infuriatingly, the same thing happened here in this apartment. None of the sockets could hold a plug. Couldn‘t the French do anything right? Until in frustration I jammed my plug in hard and suddenly it was snug. I just hadn‘t pushed hard enough. Falling out was probably a safety feature.

The second key is to the washing machine in a closet in the hallway. I share the washing machine with someone else. I am sure, considering my other successes, I will have no problem running it. The third key is a mystery key, apparently having no function.

When will I understand that people in different countries do things in different ways, things that seem so simple to an insider and so baffling to an outsider who stubbornly insists that the way his people do things is the right way. How hard can it be to open a fold out couch? I am going to spend the afternoon figuring out how to.

Late afternoon. Someone came by to show me how to make a bed of the couch. You pull the back straight toward you, the couch does a somersault with the pillows on the back of the couch facing the floor and, voila, merci, merci beaucoup, you have a bed. I’ll try it tonight.

The best part of the day was after I went down to let the woman in her thirties in the ground floor door that I now knew how to open and trudged steadily up the stairs with her behind me, I walked straight up and she, winded, had to stop twice to recover. Voila indeed.