Day 4: Cheesy gets swanky

Cheesy's first stay in Paris had come to an end. She would be moving to the swanky 16^th district on the other side of town, probably to live in the closets of rich people. She packed her 30-lb knapsack (it was 30 lbs, she was sure of it!) and wobbled out the door. She emerged into a fresh, sunlit Paris as a hunchback once again.

A few blocks down she decided to put her bag down and fish out some sunglasses. A man approached her and commented (quite astutely, Cheesy thought) that her bag looked heavy. Cheesy and the man started talking about their travels. Apparently Torino, one of Cheesy's next destinations, was a favourite of Nietzsche's. Cheesy wasn't sure whether that was meant as a warning. The man was in his 60's and seemed to have lived a full life. He'd been to Quebec once, after falling in love with an ethnologist from Lac-Saint-Jean while travelling in Acapulco. He'd once produced a movie starring Gerard Depardieux. Now he was a semi-retired painter. Or something. He gave Cheesy his address and phone number and welcomed her to stay with him if she needed. He was living with a young woman, who was somehow both a university professor and writing her thesis. Cheesy thought this man was exceptionally bizarre and wonderful, and felt that she'd had her first truly Parisian experience.

Cheesy then wobbled to the Gare de Lyon, where she reserved a seat on the TGV train ("très grande vitesse" – you'd think the French could have been more creative than that) to Marseille. The woman at the booth pronounced "Eurail" as "Oy-rile."

Cheesy took the metro to the aptly named Arc de Triomphe. It was a massive, pompous piece of rock that screamed of extravagance. Cheesy was impressed, naïve little tourist as she was. From there, it took her a long time to find apartment of her next host. She had a bad feeling about him. His emails had been curt and cryptic, and he'd insisted that she call him before arriving even though she had no phone and Parisian payphones don't accept cash. A cyclist was kind enough to lend Cheesy his cell. Her call had obviously woken up her host, but he agreed to go down to meet her.

Cheesy waited at the entrance gates to the apartment. Women with square jaws and fur coats kept coming out of the building. With her hunched back and crumpled coat, Cheesy felt like a street bum waiting for the rich to toss her change as they left their homes to saunter down the Champs-Elysees. Finally the door opened, and out bounced a skinny young man with eyes and hair the colour of old copper.

The young man was absolutely incomprehensible to Cheesy. He kept babbling and smiling, and took Cheesy's bag for her. He led her into a tiny apartment where a woman was watching TV. The woman appeared to be his mother. He kept saying something to Cheesy, and it finally dawned on her that he was offering her a coffee. He made her the best espresso Cheesy had ever had, all foamy and yummy after Cheesy's long haul. The young man was named Rafael. He struck Cheesy as being absolutely out of his mind. But Cheesy had always liked crazy people. It was the straightforward ones who had something to hide.

Cheesy was wondering where she'd sleep, given that the only couch in the room was occupied by another woman. Rafael explained that he lived upstairs. He led her through a lovely courtyard to another building in the complex. They went through a back door and climbed five stories through a narrow, creaky stairwell. Then they entered the smallest apartment Cheesy had ever seen. It was even smaller than her Quebec City jail cell in the university residences. It contained one bed, one desk, and one woman on the bed. The toilets were down the hallway.

So that was how Cheesy came to stay in the closets of the rich during her trip to Paris. But she loved the little apartment. There was no room for Rafael, of course, so he went to sleep at his girlfriend's. She had a whole room to herself, in a gorgeous apartment building steps away from the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Elysees, and the Eiffel Tower. Afterwards she only had to walk two hours to find an affordable place to eat. Vive le Paris!