How To Live Your Dream: Part One

Last week, a new friend of mine asked, "Would you mind if I asked how it all came together?" Of course I didn't mind, but I wasn't sure if she meant practically or spiritually. Because, although they're connected, they are two very different things. There's the nuts and bolts of the thing and then there's the 'daring to dream' thing.

Practically speaking, it's ridiculously simple. It's pretty much like when you were 10 and you wanted a new shiny red bike. You save your pennies and then get what you want. To live in Paris for a month you need a plane ticket, an apartment and a bit of cash to eat with. I worked on a large-ish project last summer, which I knew would garner a substantial chunk of change. Not millions, by any stretch, but enough to tell me that I could indeed pay for Paris.

My flight cost $900. I stalked the rates for weeks and weeks and on the day I booked, the fares had dropped $200. Way after the fact, I found out about Zoom airlines and realized I probably could have gotten an even better deal. Also, I'm going in April, which is before high season.

I budgeted around $2000 for my apartment. Here's where you can definitely choose your own adventure. I saw 100 sq. ft. places for 700 Euro a month and penthouses for 3-4000 Euro. In my case, I just set my budget and went about fitting it. Someone I know is French and he offered to help me find a place. His one-year-old daughter and two businesses, however, had other plans, so I was on my own. Enter Google. So easy. I searched for long-term rentals and there are approximately 75 bazillion people subletting their apartments in Paris. Mm hmm. It's just that simple.

Some sites charge you ridiculous commission fees, which I refused to pay. I found a free site (and I'm so sorry, but I searched so many, I can't recall the URL) and sent a total of three emails. All three were booked, but two offered alternatives. One alt was blech – just think about 100 sq. ft. of living space for a moment. Yeah. The other was my dream flat. Positively palatial at 350 sq. ft. the place is cute and cozy and had a creative feel (full bookshelves! hot pink duvet cover! real bedroom - as in NOT a futon in the living room!) and a signing bonus: it's owned by an Italian film producer.

Excuse me? No, seriously, what did you say? It's true. Italian film producer. I immediately began joking about "accidentally" leaving a screenplay I'd written on the kitchen table. And the cynics in my life began joking about me staying in an Italian porn producer's pad. (He does not, for the record, made porn. Unless you consider wacky artsy experimental film a kind of porn. Wanking, maybe, but porn? Nah.)

There was another signing bonus incidentally. I am Senor Producer's first tenant and I got a deal. He wanted to charge me 2-300 Euro more than I'm paying (1500 E), but the manager convinced him to take my offer. Love her. Love him. Love it all.

So. There's the plane ticket. And the flat. Now all I had to do was get a month off work. Here's where I'll admit that the first incarnation of this dream was me in Paris for a year. But that was back in the Idealistic Early 20s. 'Member those? When you railed against capitalism and stuff? And life was so, like, complicated? Good times.

Whatever. Life happens and BOOM, you're over 30 and your biological clock is ticking and your RRSPs are nowhere near being maxed and the concept of Footloose and Fancy Free is fading and that's when you stop thinking and Pull. The. Trigger.

But this is veering dangerously into the Psycho/Spiritual version of the 'How'd you pull this off?' question, so we'll just say, practically speaking that negotiation is the key. I started a part-time contract at an ad agency a few months before I booked my flight. They offered me a bit of a crap deal on the salary end of things, so I negotiated more time off. Four weeks to be exact. Hmm, sounds a lot like a month in Paris, don't it? Got a raise coming up? Why not opt for time instead of their pitiful 2%? It's your money or your life.

I actually ended up leaving that job and going freelance at the end of January this year. So I can theoretically take as much time off as I want. I could also work and get paid the entire time I'm away. But that would take away from the delicious gift of one precious month in Paris. So, I'm taking a bit of a risk. There is a chance that my 30-day absence will lead to all my clients forgetting that I exist and I'll die poor and sad and alone. Man, life is hard, yeah? Chances are, I'll be okay.

So, plane ticket, apartment, month off work. Um, besides a power converter thingy which I borrowed from my mom, that's about it. But it must be said that if it was that easy everyone would be off and living their dreams, now wouldn't they? Which is why the psycho/spiritual piece is the key to the case. More on this soon.