Moving to Paris...

When I told my friends and family I was spontaneously moving to Paris, the jealousy and questions I was attacked with, were overwhelming. Of course, naturally, I went along with the facade for the first month, that everything here is just perfect. But actually come and live in Paris as a student and you will realise it is not always la crème de la crème. Being 18 and having just spent the last five months in India acquiescing to my inner hippie, arriving empty handed after accepting a last minute offer to study - the complete opposite of what I intended in Paris - was a bit of a change. Not to mention the fact that Ryan Air disallowed my rucksack. Thus, I arrived with nothing but my laptop, a tube of Vegemite my mother packed me and a shalwar kameez (traditional Indian dress) which was not going to gain me any points in the style department over here. Luckily I remained optimistic and ignored those who told me I was mental and it was time to come home. "You're too young" they said. Well – Sorry, Grandma, but apparently my older Brother, Cam, has already replaced me as the favourite grandchild, by taking up my role of watching Pride and Prejudice and ordering Chinese on alternate Friday nights. I have had a few incidents that have made me momentarily ask myself “Was this the right decision?” Yet due to my dignity and a family that tell me I am too erratic and make decisions too quickly, I silenced the objections. I made sure that every time we Skyped I was in high spirits, even if my pot of Nutella was hiding below the camera.

After nearly 2 months of living here, I have finally sorted my life out. However my first month here was a bit of a nightmare! I've never had to look for accommodation before, let alone by myself, via only French speaking websites. So it all came down to luck, which, sadly, I had little of. If five months of volunteering in India couldn't give me any good Karma, then I don't know what will. Arriving homeless, with no belongings, two weeks before the start of my course, was (for total lack of a cooler phrase) the biggest YOLO of my entire life. "Mum, Dad! It's fine. I'll be alright, I speak good enough French to get around, I'll find something." Well, apparently my good enough French didn't really prepare me to receive emails from creepy old French men saying you can live with me for free but you will have to be my slave. Now as much as I was amused by the terribly written novel Fifty Shades of Grey I was in no way prepared for that to become my reality… Well.. I got back on the horse (despite not being a gymnast) and continued to find somewhere to live. Now, unfortunately Paris really is quite small. One super touristy nice street can turn into a dodgy street within 500 metres. Eg. The first place I properly went to visit was in the 10th arrondissement, so I thought it would be okay? Ha ha ha… My landlord, Salah, was missing maybe 85% of his teeth but…"Hey, don't judge a book by its cover!” It's all about the apartment. Ahhh, the glory of photoshop. It's possible they were taken ten years ago when he first started to rent the apartment out, but this place bore absolutely no resemblance to what once was. The fact that he hadn't seen Step Brothers also made it hard for us to become friends, as when I awkwardly said "So much room for activities," after a long awkward silence he remarked in his French accent "Errrrr, no, errr, not really"

The barriers of humour have definitely been my biggest challenge here. None of them have ever watched Step Brothers or Anchor Man and they certainly don't get my sarcasm. Now I know it was always going to be a problem for me but Perth really does own another language altogether. One that is definitely not translatable into French. What makes French even harder is that one single word can be changed into four or more different abbreviations, completely reversed and shortened and it's called Verlan, it's similar to the concept of “pig latin” where they reverse the word and change the order of the syllables. It's the kind of thing you don't learn at school and it makes up at least 70% of the youths slang vocabulary. For example (for lack of a polite word) se défoncer (to get wasted or high). This word in Paris becomes foncedé I am défoncer -> Je suis foncedé. Now having friends who live in the south of France makes it even more difficult for me because their verlan is completely different to that of Paris and if spoken here you can look super lame (which has sadly happened to me) So in the south this same word changes from défoncer to fed, déf becomes fed. "Je suis fed" Seriously just say the real word. Another simple example crazy in french is Fou which becomes Ouf…Why?

After weeks of trying to find something, finally I found accommodation that I knew would be temporary because it was in the Ghetto (no joke,) a suburb of Paris called Bobigny. I was overstaying my welcome at my French friend’s place, so I decided to take the risk, instead of staying too long. To create a visual for you - and yes the overused "I'm not racist but" - I was in Africa. ("If you're from Africa then why are you white?" Literally how people looked at me) I knew about the immigrant problems in France, which are a very touchy subject, but living amongst it is something completely different! For example, the time I got punched by a GUY leaving the metro...that was when I knew it was time to get out of there. 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?' No I was feeling pretty weak and defeated. I was also getting sick of dressing down in fear of getting mugged… and bored of my Bobigny playlist, feat. Fifty Cent and Ja Rule...

This is an example of how I dressed in Bobigny

Luckily Bobigny is now just a “been there- done that” part of my life. I have finally found my own apartment in the 18^th, near Sacre Coeur, so I can finally relax and explore Pariiiii and enjoy La Vie Parisienne...

xx