Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

August in Paris has been a cursed month for us for the last two years. The first August we lived here, our key broke in our apartment door three hours before our train to Amsterdam was supposed to leave. In the states, this would not have been a problem, but in Europe, August is the start of the mass exodus of the French for ‘vacances’. We were extremely lucky to find a locksmith at that time, let alone actually make our train, considering the city was practically empty.

This last August brought on the flood. We came home one day to find that there was water pouring out of our ceiling in the bathroom. The man upstairs, who caused the leak, was uncooperative and when we called insurance companies and our rental agents, they all seemed pretty chill about it. We were the only ones that were upset and worried, weirdly, but we think this may have been due to our agent thinking we were over-exaggerating  the severity of the situation. When he finally came a few days later and saw that there was water coming out of our door frames in the bedroom, he realized how bad it really was.

Yes, there were posts about both of these incidents on here, but now we are starting to see the actual effects of the damage. The insurance had told us they had to wait several months to come look at the damage because it takes a long time for the cinderblock walls to dry out, etc. Almost six month on, and a rift has formed between our wall and plastered cinder block underneath. It started as a small crack towards the top, turned into an open flap, then proceeded to connect to another crack and completely open the wall. It has become a daily ritual for us to comment on its expansion and shape, talk about the textured wall underneath, and discuss how many layers of paint there are. (The answer is A LOT, this apartment was built in the early 40’s just post WW2).

I wonder how long until the entire wall is undressed.



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