In which Cherry likes a roller coaster

Yesterday promised to be a grey, drizzly kind of day, and the kids were antsy, even at 8 in the morning. The playground was out due to the weather, and Wednesday is a busy day at the Cité and it was too late to register for the various activities online. We would have to wait in the ticket lines at the Cité to get it set up. The natural thing to do, of course, was to take the kids to Disney, since I couldn't think of anything else to do. Now, you may be thinking, "Why on earth would you go to Disney on a grey, drizzly kind of day?" The answer, naturally, is that everyone else is thinking what you are thinking, and so lines are shorter and, of course, a little bit of water never hurt anyone (other than the Wicked Witch of the West).

Since it was a spur of the moment kind of decision, I didn't have anything to pack for lunches, and I didn't really want to take the time to go to the grocery store, so we headed off to the park with nothing but our umbrellas and annual passes, leaving Blaise at home to work peacefully (and to go to the store to buy us something to eat for dinner). We rode Buzz Lightyear, and then waited in line for a long time to ride Star Tours, which is normally a FastPass ride, but which is currently undergoing renovations and so the FastPass entrance is currently closed. Cherry is just barely the minimum height for the ride, so it was the first time she's ridden it. She was not a fan. I'm fairly sure that I have bruises on my forearm from her squeezing it so tightly.

Then we rode It's a Small World to settle our (mine and Cherry's) stomachs, and Pirates of the Caribbean en route to the FastPass machines for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad (henceforth known as BTMR). Much to our delight, we only had about 30 minutes to wait before our time slot, so we rode Phantom Manor, and then rode the coaster, with Cherry holding onto my hand for dear life. We wandered through the caves on Adventure Island, and when we came out it was raining in earnest and people were sheltering under whatever overhangs they could find. We, of course, had umbrellas, and so we set off for Discoveryland, hoping that perhaps nobody would want to ride Autotopia (the only ride we have not yet done) in the downpour. As it turned out, they were closing the ride just as we arrived, so we rode the rockets in the downpour and ended up absolutely soaked. (I also discovered that, much as I don't like Dumbo, I like the rockets even less.) We headed into Videopolis to dry off a bit, and then decided to see what the line looked like for BTMR. Perhaps nobody would want to ride that in the rain either? We bribed Cherry to come by offering her the chance to pick the next two rides afterwards.

After we rode the coaster, I picked up FastPasses again, thinking that just maybe we'd end up using them, and that there was no harm done if we didn't. Then we headed back to Pirates, which was Cherry's choice. By the time we had ridden it, our time slot had arrived, and so she agreed that we could go ride BTMR before we came back and rode Pirates (yet again). And then, at the end of her 3rd trip on BTMR she decided that what she really wanted to do was ride it again. And then even a 5th time. And then she wanted to ride it again, but it was time to go home, and so we did.

In which we go to the Pompidou Centre

Note: There are some missing posts here, which I hope to fill in over the next several days. In the meantime, I'm going to work on posting more recent stuff, since I'm finding writing about the older stuff a bit overwhelming at this point.

Yesterday, as you all know, was the first Sunday in June, which, of course, means that it was free museum day. The most significant omission in our free museum trips thus far was the Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris's modern art museum. So we headed down yesterday morning, hoping that if we got there before it opened we wouldn't be held up by too much of a line. (Unlike the Louvre and the Orsay, which seem to allow as many people into the museum as are willing to cram themselves in, the Pompidou Centre seems to have fairly strict capacity limits, perhaps because the museum itself is located on the 4th to 6th floors of the building, and it would be more difficult to evacuate in case of necessity. That means that once the museum is full, you have to wait for somebody to leave in order for the next person to go in.)

Once we were through security and Blaise had checked his umbrella, we headed up the very cool outside escalators (they're inside glass tubes, so you couldn't fall off) to the very top of the museum, where we took advantage of our height to enjoy a panoramic view of Paris. Since the only other things on that floor were a restaurant and special exhibits (which were not free) we headed back down the escalator (despite the signs warning that we were not to take children under 13 down it) to the 4th floor where the entrance to the main part of the museum was located. Then, we had to go up the steps because the main part of the main part of the museum is on the 5th floor. Confused yet?

The museum is small compared to the Louvre, or even really to the Orsay, but still big enough so that I'll spare you all the details. Cherry fell in love with a video of a woman dancing in a dress with a huge skirt, and as she danced the dress changed colors. Sapphire and Ezio and Blaise decided that a movie called Resurrection was very cool. If you really want details, I can supply them. Otherwise, I'll just remark that we really liked it in middle school when Doc Fryling would show the movies backwards and we could watch the food coming out of people's mouths and going back onto the plate.

After we had explored the 5th floor thoroughly, we headed back down to the 4th floor, which had an exhibit of the work of modern female artists. (I could probably say more here, but I'm not much good at writing about art. Suffice it to say that there was a great deal of raw anger in the art on display.)

Then, Blaise picked up his umbrella and we headed off to look for some lunch. After lunch, we decided to clear security back into the museum (not much of a line) so that we could use the bathrooms, and then to head over to Saint Eustache (Google translated French Wikipedia page) for a look around. Enroute, we passed a man making enormous bubbles with string and bubble solution, surrounded by a crowd of children he was encouraging to chase after and pop the bubble. The kids decided to join in the fun and so for 10 minutes or so we watched them give chase to the bubbles.

Next, Saint Eustache, which is quite large and quite old. Although it isn't as nearly as old as Notre Dame, it is also not nearly as well maintained, and so it looks quite a lot more run down. It has an interesting history however--it was here that Louis XIV made his first communion, and the home of Saint Vincent de Paul for nearly 10 years. Once Cherry and I had made the tour of the side chapels (which I like though nobody else in my family seems to) we headed outside and over to the playground in the Jardin du Forum des Halles, where the kids played for a while until it started to look like it was going to rain. After a very crowded train ride home (technical problems with the train line), we relaxed and watched the last 2 points of the French Open.

In which we deal with taxes

You are probably reading this and wondering how we managed to wait until late May/early June to deal with taxes, or, alternately perhaps, you're wondering whether we've been audited. In fact, I have not yet dealt with our American taxes for 2009, other than to file a request for an extension to file on the grounds that we will, once we have been out of the United States for 365 days, qualify as non-residents for tax purposes, all of which will make our lives much easier. No, the taxes of which I speak are the French ones.

A bit of background: Blaise is being paid by the French government through one of the universities. Every month, money is deposited into our bank account, and we receive in the mail a piece of pink paper with a looong list of all of the various deductions from his paycheck and the contributions made by his employer. Some of them are quite small (less than a euro) and some are considerably larger, but most are in the 10 to 40 euro range, and the percentage that is picked up by the employer is generally significant. So even though I didn't know what half of the stuff stood for, I figure that the tax thing was being taken care of, as it is in the US, except, hopefully, better, since maybe they would manage to take the right amount out. . .. Then, around mid May, Blaise received an email telling him that he needed to file his French income tax return on or before the 31st of May, or the government would file it for him and that we definitely didn't want that to happen. Also, we were told, there were any number of tax agreements between France and the US, which might or might not apply to us, some of which can be invoked only once by any one individual.

So I searched around and downloaded the form that I needed to fill out, and then hunted on the IRS website for copies and explanations of the various tax treaties in English and on the French tax website for copies and explanations of the various tax treaties in French. And then I read them all and decided that I am extremely glad that I am not a specialist in international tax law (although if I were, our filing would have been much easier). In any case, it appeared that our rental income could be exempted from the French income tax, so long as we paid taxes on it in the United States, and that we could choose to exempt Blaise's income as a researcher as well (and exempt it from US taxes since we were resident in France when it was earned), though the part of the treaty applicable to his income could only be invoked once, and so if we were ever to return for longer than a year, we wouldn't be able to use it again. So, basically it's a bet--does one take the sure tax savings now, or wait and hope to come back when one could use it for more income?

We decided to take the bet, and hope to come back. Next, the tax form. The beginning was relatively straightforward, I thought, names, birth names, birth dates, etc for the adults, and birth years (and that was it!) for the dependents. And then information about our housing situation: address--easy, dates of moves--easy, number of pièces (rooms)--not so easy. Yes, I know, that seems like a really easy question; after all, I do live in the place after all! But the rules for counting rooms in France seem to be different than those in the US. For example, bedrooms and living/dining rooms count, naturally, but kitchens do not. (Neither do bathrooms and toilets, but that's hardly surprising.) A question about whether or not we have a television (because there's a tax if you do--and we watch a lot fewer commercials here because it pays for a lot of the programming costs). And finally, the pages about income, at which point I threw up my hands and emailed the people who had emailed Blaise about filling in the forms in the first place (and had offered to help us).

Two days later, I got an email back from them, explaining that our tax situation was extremely complicated and they didn't know anything about rental income or tax treaties and that I should contact our tax center in Vincennes. So, I translated my email into French, and sent it off. And received an email back saying that our tax situation was extremely complicated and that I should really come in and meet with one of their tax experts for help in filling out the form. (Free of charge, I might add.)

So the next morning (by this point it was the 28th of May), Blaise took the kids to school and I boarded a bus to Vincennes, hoping that I wouldn't have too terribly long a wait for help. When I got there, the office had just opened, and the line of people snaked out the door and down the block, and I prepared for a long, long wait. But as the line began to move forward, I noticed that many people seemed to be there only to pick up a form or perhaps to drop off their completed tax forms, and that the percentage of people who were actually there for help was relatively small. Once I reached the front and picked up my number, there were 26 people in front of me in line, much of the waiting room was filled, and the line was still, at any rate, out the door, though I could no longer see past that point. (For reference, the tax center opened at 8:30, and I was seated and waiting my turn shortly after 8:45.) I pulled out my ipod and prepared to wait (and play Civilization).

Each time they were ready for someone else, the sign above the door would beep, and the next number would flash, along with the letter of the office (A to H) they were to go to. When I sat down, they were on 9, but the numbers kept chugging along, 10, 11, 12, . . .. About 45 minutes after I sat down, my number flashed, and I headed for the indicated office, paperwork in hand. After apologizing for my French, and my inability to figure out how to fill out the form, I sat down and we began the process of filling in the forms. Five minutes later the personal information was filled out, along with our housing information, television information, and number of dependents. I put our wages into the proper slot on the 3rd page, and explained that we had rental income, but that since our house was in the US I believed that we could pay the taxes on it to the US rather than the French. She wasn't sure whether or not that was true, so she called in the head of the office, who spent perhaps 30 seconds looking it up, confirmed that it was true, and had me fill in my name and the address of our house in the US, along with the amount of our rental income on another form. He then apologized profusely for the complexity of our tax return, which had taken, even including the 5 minutes it took to find the head of the department, a grand total of 16 minutes to fill in. I decided not to point out that it had taken me more than twice as long just to fill out the request for an extension to file our US tax return.

Once I got home, I decided to find out whether or not we had actually been granted the extension that I had requested, so I called the IRS to ask. The woman I talked to looked it up and assured me that the request had been granted, and said she wasn't sure why I had not yet received the form telling me so. I found that out the next day when the form finally came, and I discovered that it had been sent to New Zealand, and then mailed to France from there!

In which we walk

Another out of order post---I'm slowly getting caught up with the things that I've missed posting about while Mom was here.

When my mom visited us last fall, we spent one of the mornings that the kids were at school walking to the market at Nogent sur Marne, which is the next suburb over. (It is also the suburb that we've had to go to to deal with most of our titre de séjour paperwork, since that is where the nearest sous-prefecture is located.) She wanted very much to go back over there some morning this spring, and so a couple of days before she was scheduled to leave, we headed for the market after taking Cherry to school, and spent an hour wandering through the stands of clothing and food and sundry household articles. I found paupiettes de veau, which I'd been searching for unsuccessfully at the Auchan, and bought enough for dinner. (Ambitious people and those who live outside of France make their own, but I'm perfectly happy to pick up the pre-stuffed variety.)

We headed home afterwards and picked up Cherry from school, then went straight into Paris, because I wanted to show Mom where we had lived 3 years ago, and also because there was a church, l'Église Saint-Pierre de Montmartre, that we had seen with Blaise's parents, and which had unusual stained glass which I thought she would appreciate. So we rode the train to Place de Clichy and walked the block or so to our old apartment, which, naturally, Cherry observed that she didn't remember, so I told her about how she used to push all of our stuff under the grill in front of the window and I would have to race down the stairs to save it from the street sweeeper.

Then we headed across the bridge spanning the Cimetière de Montmartre and up toward Place de Abbesses, where we stopped at our second favorite bakery from our last stay in Paris (our favorite is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday) to pick up some lunch: pizza for Cherry and quiche for Mom and me. After we had eaten in a small park, we headed up to the top of Montmartre, where we watched the "cool guy with a soccer ball," who, unfortunately, did not find it necessary to hang from the light posts this time. Next, we walked around to the entrance to St. Pierre. (We skipped Sacre Coeur because we were running short on time--Blaise had a meeting in Paris and so we needed to be home in time to pick Sapphire and Ezio up from school.) Once we had properly admired the windows--lots of black, which is somewhat unusual for stained glass--we headed down the hill and looked for a metro stop, then headed for home.