Chez Nous

View from Chez Nous ^

I feel I should probably explain a little about the infamous Chez Nous, as it will no doubt be the location of many amusing soirees and petites crises domiciles.

How it all began

End of July:

F: 'Hi Beth: Apparently we're going to be working in the same school. I've just found out we should have got accommodation in June. Erm...did you?'

B: 'Hey, nice to hear from someone in the same area. June?! Er...no. Did you?

F: 'No! I'm going to pop into Chambery on my way back from holiday and try to find somewhere. Do you fancy sharing?'

*Quick bout of mutual facebook stalking*

B: 'Sure!'

August:

F: 'Hey Beth, I found a really nice place with a kitten in it!'

B: 'Wow, a kitten! Let's do it!

F: 'Er...the accommodation man wants money now...'

B: 'Kitten! Okay!'

And so it was...the future Chez Nous.

I found Chez Nous during a 16 hour blitz on Chambery in August, in the vague hope of avoiding a year spent in a cardboard box. During this exciting tour of the town with Francois (accommodation bloke), I saw 5 different apartments, of which 3 were of particular interest:


1. Very old place - this was a gorgeous, old-fashioned apartment with fireplaces in each bedroom, a massive oak dining room table, antique dressers and leather chairs. Huge kitchen, Narnia-style wardrobes, awesome knockers (on the doors, of course...). All was fine until Francois mentioned the 'occasional' problems with water. And electricity. And heating. The shower was a hole in the wall with a dirt stain below it. My internal mother said NO.

2. Very dodgy place - this was, well, very dodgy. It was above an abandoned shop with smashed in windows and bits of brick lying around. Francois put me in the rickety old cage lift and decided to take the stairs himself. Not a good sign. The apartment was 'cosy', 'intimate' and 'unique'. So, small, smelly and weird.


3. Shared house with a garage if I wanted the car. All was looking promising, but Francois was reluctant to let me see the kitchen. While he was fiddling with the telephone, I snuck in. All looked fine. I opened a kitchen cupboard to have a nosey inside. A strange squeaking noise came from within. Door opened: kitten inside! A gorgeous, white, fluffy furball of joy. A rather fast furball of joy, it turned out, as it leapt kittenishly from the cupboard and sprinted for freedom towards a rather distraught Francois.

It had to be that one.

Chez Nous now

Little Excitements

The Mysterious Basement - spiralling stone steps leading down into the dark behind a locked door...

The ski cupboard in the hall, complete with fluorescent vintage skis!

Housemates
2 French students
1 Swedish student
2 giant centipedes: Guillaume Whizz and Houdini (discovered in my rather traumatic first week rather too close to my bed. House centipedes eat spiders, bedbugs and ants, and can run at 16 inches/second. Houdini is so-named after escaping from a box he was trapped under for 2 days.)
No kitten: sadly, it seems to have moved :o(

And, of course, Beth and me.

Lessons Learnt
In France, our names have unfortunate connotations. French people struggle to say 'th', so Beth becomes 'Bet', or 'Bête', which means 'stupid' or 'beast'.
Flick sounds the same as an insult for 'cops', which translates as 'scum' or 'filth'.

So there we are: Scum and Stupid, Filth and Beast, Chez Nous.