Ewa Szypula has run away from home – again – and can be found living in a rather lovely apartment in Paris. Only, she finds that the heatwaves on this side of the Channel are no joke…
When I recently moved to Paris, there were two things people tried to warn me off from: an apartment in the suburbs (an equivalent to social death, I was told), and an apartment on the ground floor (nobody wants one of these). I must confess that since coming to Paris, I have committed both sins.
Myself and my Lover first moved into a lovely suburban flat (complete with sunny terrace and an abundance of bedrooms) and are now living in a ground floor flat in the thirteenth arrondissement. Ground floor, just off a shared courtyard, with jasmine (or something that smells like jasmine) growing outside my living room window.
Ground floor apartments, and sixth-floor-without-a-lift ones, are the ones that are the cheapest to buy in Paris, because nobody wants them. But while I can understand that dragging your Franprix-own-brand six-pack of milk up the stairs is no joke, I don’t really understand the fuss about ground floor flats. Because they are fabulous. Especially in a heatwave.
Since coming to Paris in April, I have already experienced several heatwaves. This city is no joke: when it gets hot, it gets seriously hot. Paris has a micro-climate all of its very own. The last time I ran away from home and came to spend a month here several summers ago, I did in fact stay in a sixth-floor apartment. Going home was like walking into a furnace.
I remember the drill: skimpy dress, magnum of iced water, walk sloooowly. Stroll slowly, take your time, never rush your movements. And if you happen to have forgotten anything upstairs, tough, because you are sure as hell not climbing up the six flights of stairs to get it. Living on he sixth floor in Paris taught me to be wonderfully minimalistic.
For the benefit of friends and family, here is my cut-out-and-keep guide to surviving a trip to Paris this summer.
Stroll. Never walk fast. Never attempt to run for the bus. Allocate an extra hour to every activity you plan to do throughout the day. Buy a swishy skirt, which will inexplicably compel you to walk slowly.
Stay in a ground floor flat. French apartments tend to have Mediterranean-style shutters. Close windows and shutters during the day, and open them only at 11 pm. You are going to love it.
Want somewhere cool to spend the day?… I recommend the Josephine Baker swimming pool near the Bibliotheque Nationale: a boat on the river Seine which has somehow been turned into an open-air swimming pool. (Don’t forget your swimming cap; the French are strict on this.)
If you can’t get into Josephine Baker, try the open-air swimming pool just outside of Paris, at La Croix de Berny. It has lawns and trees and shade. (See? The suburbs are gooood.)
Visit the Catacombs. These are sort of underground passages filled with human bones. Low temperatures and a frisson guaranteed.
If all else fails, take your loved ones for a shopping trip to Monoprix, the fabulous French supermarket. Pretending you might buy a litre of gazpacho gives you an excuse to open the door of the glass-fronted chilled cabinet, and sort of stand in front of it for half an hour, cooling off amid the frozen peas. While you’re there, get yourself some heart-shaped Neuchatel cheese and some grated carrots (I promise you will love them).
Go to a hot yoga class. Perversely, like the idea of eating curry in hot weather, it seems ludicrous but it actually works. Also, you are guaranteed a sparsely populated public space (a rare find in Paris in the heat).
Happy sweltering!
