La vie boheme

Ilias lives in the 18th arrondissement in a little building with no elevator and a staircase with old hardwood floors. Thing is, none of the floors or apartments are labelled. At all. All the doors are the same blue and all the floors look exactly the same. The only thing distinguishing his apartment (which I think is on the 3rd floor) from the others is his door mat, which apparently tends to wander when the cleaners are doing the stairs.

The neighbourhood is lined with little shops. Cheese, seafood, butchers, flower shops, grocery stores, bakeries, etc. My French accent is beyond bad. I really do think that people have an easier time understanding me when I just say the words in an American accent. Sad, I know. But thanks to the power of hand signals and smiling enthusiastically, buying food (duck sausage, duck pate with figs and stinky cheese!) has thankfully not been a problem. Oh, and JM, Saint Marcellin is EVERYWHERE and you're right, it's SO GOOD.