Below Freezing

Winter has hit Paris. Full on. I think the average this week is -1. Celcius, that is. We’re in Europe, remember.

My nose is permanently red, and my face is dry and burnt from the cold and wind. I rejoice in the metro, however smelly it may be, because I know that the more people there are packed into a car, the warmer I will be for that brief period of time. Our office is cold anyway – everyone wears scarves inside all day – but walking outside immediately induces a feeling that cuts straight to the bone and takes hours to dispel. Alfie doesn’t have gloves and his fingers are perpetually dry and raw; this is not helped by hours of washing dishes at work.

That’s right, we both have jobs now. You knew that he did, but I do too. I didn’t want to say anything before it started, because the way things have been going, you never know what could happen. But I started yesterday, so I can talk about it now. I’m working for a documentary production company as an intern/Production Assistant. They pay basically nothing, but it’s a good opportunity and the people are pretty cool. It’s a small, cute office in one of my favorite parts of town, and particularly the head Producer/Director guy is super enthusiastic and friendly. They’re asking me to essentially do the impossible, but they recognize the difficulty of the project, so I don’t mind too much. We’ll see how it goes. All the same, I still have to find another job if I’m going to even attempt to stay, because 300 euros a month (yes, really) won’t get you much of anything in Paris.

As for staying, talk to me again next week. Right now, I don’t really know much of anything beside that I’m meeting a few people for dinner tonight and I just had hot chocolate to dispel some of the cold. Send warm thoughts. Or snow. I’ll take either right now.