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21.02.05 - 11:59 My head is pounding, but I have to meet Jadem for Lebanese sandwiches (my favorite) in 30 minutes. It�s too late to walk so I have to take the metro. I fucked up so bad today I still can�t believe it, thank the universe I have such a good friend in Madame Baudel, my dear sweet landlord. Since the dollar sucks the big weenie I am very stingy about transferring money from my American bank account to my French bank account, I prefer to just withdraw little bits of cash when I need it and go from there. After weeks of badgering the moving company to accept an American check (thus avoiding the ridiculous fees imposed by my French bank when I deposit an American check) they finally relented. All was well and the movers showed up this morning to strip my apartment of all its furnishings and load them on the truck to Berlin. Having had no luck with France Telecom over the phone to cancel my telephone subscription (it�s not them, it�s my shitty French), I was forced to ask Mme. Baudel to accompany me to the office so I could close the account and have the final invoice sent to me in Germany. Forever the gracious and helpful woman she said she would pop by around 4:00 and walk with me to the office and translate. Exactly 5 minutes before 4:00 the client service man from the moving company called and asked if he could come by at 5:00 to pick up the check and for me to sign the final documents for the move �Oh, sure, of course� I said. Hanging up I realized something, something very bad, and something I could not believe I had done. I had packed my flipping American checkbook. It was no longer in my Paris flat; it was having cocktails with my other belongings on their way to flipping Germany! Ok, think fast Bean, what to do?? Ok, check your balance in your French account; maybe you have the money (1400 Euros) in there. No can do!! I packed the fucking directions for online Societe Generale banking! Their probably having champagne with my stupid checkbook! Oh God, what am I going to do? I have to pay the moving guy, all my stuff has already left, what am I going to do? I could run to the bank and ask for my balance. But Mme. Baudel is going to be here any DING DONG�she�s here. �Bean, you don�t look happy, you are sad to leave France?� she asks. �Uh, well, yes actually, and I seem to have gotten myself in a bit of a jam� I say. �I don�t understand, this jam, how you, comme sa? � she says �Please, sit down,� I say, gesturing to one of two folding chairs that came with the apartment, �would you like some tea?� �Non, merci, and you have no cups� she says with a smile �Ahh, oui, no cups� I say. Duh, all my stuff is partying with my checkbook on its road trip to Berlin. After a brief explanation to Madame Baudel of what happens she smiles (laughs really) and in her wonderful way she put everything at ease�this woman is so amazing. �Bean, you don�t worry, I will fix this for you. First, you must not tell the moving company that you have your checkbook inside your boxes.� she says. �Really?� I ask. �Yes, Bean, in France many time the movers are from the prison, you don�t want to tempt them with your check� she states. Terrified that I had been chumming it up with convicts only a few hours ago I timidly ask �Well, they aren�t, uuh, well, I mean, they aren�t STILL in prison right?� Laughing Mme. Baudel says �Oh, no, Bean, but it is still not wise to tell them, perhaps they decide to open all the boxes and look for it� Wishing I had tipped better I ask �So, what do you think I should do?� �You pay them with a French check�, she says. Embarrassed to admit I have no idea what my balance in my French account is I say �Well, I am not, well, I don�t� �Bean, you are forgetting that I give you 2000 Euros today� she says. Ahhhhhhhhh�.oui!!!! I had forgotten my deposit!! YES!!! YES!!! Madame Baudel then said she would go to the bank on Saturday morning for me and make the deposit directly in to my account! I was so happy I couldn�t believe it. Crisis averted. Madame then said it was time for us to go to France Telecom and close my telephone. Packed with people doing all kinds of phone business Mme. Baudel and I wait for 20 minutes before we are finally served. A few strokes in a computer, a few pieces of paper signed, and I no longer have a Paris telephone number. Outside the office, Mme. Baudel hands me all the papers and explains what each one is, then she gives me the business card of the man that helped us �To make sure that he turns it off, we need his name� she explains. Her thoroughness making me love her even more, I just want to squeeze her! �Now, we have a coffee, and we say goodbye� she instructs, so we are off to the caf� next to my flat. Sitting at the table we have sat at 3 or 4 times before having a coffee or mint water drink, Madame Baudel says, �Bean, it�s funny, you are leaving, but I don�t worry about talking with you again.� Having known her for almost a year, I know exactly what she is saying. �It is so easy, with us, talking. You will go to Berlin, you will keep writing, you will see many wonderful things there. And when we talk again, even if it is a long time from now, it will be easy. It�s funny with us, you think?� She says. �Oui, Madame, very easy� I answer. Last week I had given her a book as a goodbye present, a book called Almost French, a humorous tale of an Australian woman who falls in love with a French man and then moves to Paris to live with him. It was an easy read, not the best travelogue I have ever read, but still pretty good (I received 3 copies as Christmas presents from people in the states). Mme. B had asked that I write something in it and she would pick it up from me when we signed all the exit lease papers. As we sat at the table I pulled the book from my satchel and handed it to her �Here, I finished writing in it� I said. Excitedly she reached for the book, �Oh, thank you Bean� and she flips to the title page to read what I wrote. In my not very good French I had written the following: Madame Baudel, Paris has been a wonderful home for me; I will truly miss the incredible beauty of this city. Although the beautiful buildings, the grand boulevards, the friendly people, and the perfect food will long be with me in my memory, it will be your friendship that will always be with me in my heart. You were, quite simply, the best discovery for me in Paris and I thank you so much for your gentle kindness, French language lessons, French culture lessons and, most of all, the lunches we shared accompanied by your stories of a Paris long ago. A bientot, Bean Ok, it was a little schmaltzy, but it was really how I felt, this woman was so kind to me, and it just made all the difference. As she read she got a little misty, and kept thanking me for the nice words. Then, she reached in her own bag and produced a wrapped present to me. Completely surprised I took the package and asked if I could open it. �Of course� she said. Wrapping paper off and sitting on our table I was now holding two books (in French!!!), both about France in WW2, oh she gets me!! �Bean, I have made sure, since these are in French, that both of them have lots of pictures to look at!� she informs me. I thought I was going to kiss her! As we stood on the corner, where I would now go left, and she would go right, we shook hands, and gave each other the French double kiss goodbye. And as she walked away I stood, rooted to my spot, watching this tiny lady (about 5�1�) with her beautiful full-length black coat, hurriedly (all the Parisians walk so fast) walk down Avenue Les Gobelins, I thought to myself �There goes sweet Madame Baudel� and then I changed that �There goes my friend Odile Baudel� And I realized I missed her already. � � 
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