It is worldly matters...

That is what my mother, wise as always, used to tell me when something broke down or was smashed to pieces. With tears in my eyes, standing in the middle of the mess I accidentially had created I would try to grasp her doesn't really matter... it is just materia, noting is worldly matters. (My computer broke down again, and as you can see, I'm laughing about it, thanks to mom).

A love story

Some few months ago, I was living in the dark. I was unaware of the wonderful things life had in store for me. Aimlessly, I went around and bought my fix for money. I din't know it could be for free, I didn't know it could be so sweet, I didn't know a call could be for free. Skype, I love you! You make life in exile so easy!

After five minutes, you were all mine and I can easiliy spend hours in your company. You are beautifully green, you are logical and have such great qualities. Also, you are generous and let me talk to and even see other people. (in 24 hours, I have talked to Berlin, Visby, Gothenburg, and I have talked to, sang with and even seen live images from Uppsala).

Skype, I wish everyone could get to know you. You are the best program I have ever had.


Today it was Monday and it was raining and the dog poo was running about the parisian streets. I was typically wearing my thin leather boots (the red ones with funny laces) which cannot take any rain and that only because of the fact that my heels are injured from wearing new shoes (ironically sneakers to spare my feet). Anyway, I was running late, in the rain, for my internship workplace since paying the rent turned out to be "très difficile" here in France.

1. Noone tells you when or how to pay, there is no bill
2. You get a note in your mailbox from "la Direction" which says that you are late with paying the rent
3. You try to pay it, but instead of telling you what to do the guy in the reception tells you "c'est pas grave"
4. As a Swede, you get nervous - will I now get kicked out?
5. A second guy in the reception informs you that you should pay to the secretary.
6. You work 9-18, the secretary works 9.30-15
7. The nice guy in the reception says you can leave the money €340, no reciept, in the reception at "you own risk" for the secretary
8.As a Swede, you choose not to
9. There is no account to which you can pay, you just have to be there 9.30-15

Anyway, today I thought, what the **, I can be late for work. I showered and went downstairs at 9.45 (wanted to give the secretary a break). I asked for the secretary.
- "Ah, non, elle ne travaille pas cette semaine..." She doesn't work this week. However now the SAME GUY who couln't give me a reciept last week, could give me a reciept. A bit relieved, I payed, got my reciept and then asked, how come you now can make me a reciept. He looked at me like I was stupid,
- "Because of that the secretary is on vacation".

The Metro was packed, had to stand all the way (about 30 minutes) to the 16th arrondisement where I work. When I got there they had worried about me. "You know, you have to call when you will be late". Ok, sorry. It was dark, still raining, as I left the office.

Today it was Monday, and did I say it was raining? I didnt think Mondays in Paris would become gray Mondays so soon. Today, I punished France by dining at McDonalds.


Yesterday was my birthday and I didn't want to spend it alone, so I invited the students who live down my hall for a small party in my room. Also, I invited some people I met at a friends apartment on Saturday...some of the people I have gotten to know here at Cité Universitaire and Kerstin that I met on the plane from Stockholm to Paris. They all came! And many of them brought a friend, in the end about 50 people attended my "fête"! I was exstatic and the party was still going on when I went to bed around 2 am.

Here are some pics.

And I have to tell you about an interesting birthday happening. For lunch on my birthday, I attended a meeting with an adjoining lunch at the Swedish embassy in Paris. I was seated next to a man who cheerfully said as I introduced myself "Oh, Kajsa, that is my wife's name!". Minutes later he told me that he almost didn't make it to the program, was his wife's birthday! Of course Kajsa and I were introduced and after having eyed eachother in silence, the other birthday-girl-Kajsa exclaimed: "This is an amazing coincidence, I will have to write about it in my diary!". For you who know me well, you can see how I had to utter "Me too!" for the second time that lunch.

Thank you to all of you who called/sent emails/sms!

My new reality(ies)

Coffe outdoors

View from my window

My office

Sacre coeur

(notice the barret)


Here comes a nightly report covering the public transports in Paris at night. After the Metro stops at around 1pm the night busses "Noctilien" start running. To my area ( Porte d'Orleans) a bus leaves every 15 minutes until the Metro starts again! Finding the bus was easy, the ride was smooth and fast. I felt safe as I walked the last block home. Hurray for functional public transport!

Princess in Paris

My whole life has changed. I now go to sleep in the 14th arrondissement in Paris, take the Metro pass the Eiffeltower to the Swedish delegation at the OECD and spend most of my hours there. Here, I reside in a beautiful GRAND BUREAU with a French balcony that gives me height freight and so far read information about the new organization that I now am a part of. I got my badge to enter to the headquarters today. On the badge, it says "Mlle Hallberg, Stagiaire" - Miss Hallberg, trainee. However, I feel more like a princess, than a trainee.

Maybe that is because of the French food?
Over the weekend, wonderful food markets popped up everywhere and offered fresh seafood, organic vegetables and fantastic olives to enthused Frenchmen queing up for the delicassies. Good food has to take time! The respect for the French specialities is also interesting. In the messiest supermarket the cheeses are in alphabetical order! I have had the best Brie ever. Good wine is cheap (around €3) and everybody really carries a newly baked baguette under their arm on the way home to dinner. Also the exotic cuisine is thriving in Paris, so far I have been offered boiled Pigs' feet - Greek style, Senegalese stew, and Asian ginger wok for the Chinese new year.

Or do I feel like a princess because
of my new living situation?
A picture says more than a thousand words. I reside in a nice room on the second floor (prèmier étage) in La Fondation Hellénique, one of the 38 student houses at Cité Universitaire.

Or because of the French politeness?
- "Bonjour, Madame"
- "Passez un bonne journée, Madame"
- "Excusez-moi, Madame"
- "Au revoir, Madame et à bientôt"
Do I have to say I never carried my suitcase anywhere in Paris? The French(men) couldn't stop themselves from helping me. For once, chivalry felt comfortable.

As you can read/see, I am very happy with my (soon to be) first week in the metropol, and the only thing I ask myself before I go to sleep, slightly intoxicated by a glass of Beaujolais, is "Why didn't I come sooner?"
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