SIXAM, I am used to saying, is not an hour. It is a five letters word,  the French equivalent of four letters words in English. 5:15 leaves me speechless. That was the time when my alarm went off because I had an appointment with the American consulate to establish my visa to the US at 7:30. I do not complain, though, except for the first moments in the morning which are really hard on me. I am not bad at waking up, but I am by no way an early bird. The rest is pretty cool, though. No time to tidy the kitchen after a quick breakfast, no time to think about anything but catching one’s train, and once in the train, a perfectly calm, empty ambience. A simple life. the book I have taken with me is pretty interesting—I am reading Mc Culloch’s 1776. That is appropriate for a visit on the US territory after all. I’ll be finished with 1776 on my way back.

No problem with the train either—it is before rush hours when delays are to be expected. The US consulate is located in the center of Paris, at the very beginning of the Champs élysées and although it is far from being the most spectacular part of the avenue, it is still a nice walk off the station, across one of the most spectacular plazas of the city. In the day, it is crowded with cars, but Paris is a late city. At 7 AM, when I reach the capital, traffic jams thicken in the suburbs, but the streets of Paris are still rather empty. The night is cold and deep, the surroundings are blurred, sunk in the darkness. I feel the city at my hand, nearly at my convenience, protected by the Eiffel tower that makes a long spot of light on my left. When I reach the consulate, a light snow is falling down. It is rare event here, and I appreciate it. I go through the routine security checks, and in less than an hour and a half my visa is adjudicated. I do not know if it is because I have a department of state grant or because they just know me by heart after my numerous visits to the US, or just because it is early in the morning on the first day after vacations, but it is particularly fast. The Vice-Consul who conducts my interview (now compulsory in order to obtain an American visas) speaks perfect French and finds it ironic that I am applying for a visa to go and study… the visa system in the US (Okay, the title of the research is some grand thing about border’s security, but the bulk of it is the control of foreigners, which includes visas).

When I exit the consulate, I am ecstatic: Paris is covered with snow. I walk to WHSmith, mostly to browse new paperback stuff, and buy some season’s greetings cards. Then, I do what I always do after a session at the consulate: I check Angelina—this nice restaurant and salon de thé—and order a hot, dark, thick chocolate along with a pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant). We are only a bunch of people there—four Japanese tourists staying in a nearby hotel and me. It is before 9AM, and the half inch of snow that has powered the city is probably enough to block the local traffic and to discourage people from getting their breakfast outside. I see through the window of Angelina people on the avenue wrapped in their winter clothes walking briskly to warm up. The snow is still falling. I decide to walk back to my train station and cross the Tuileries garden, which is immaculately white. The few people who are there with me are busy taking pictures with professional cameras. I regret not to have brought my cell phone because of the Consulate security restrictions: I would have loved to bring back photos. The Tuileries park is located on the Seine Right bank. It is connected to the left bank where my station is by a new —a couple of years old, I mean—pedestrian bridge. From there, I look over the river. The boats seem to dance slowly with the flakes. Walking is delicious. I am so ravished that I decide to visit the Musée d’Orsay, the 19th century Museum of Paris (my master and colleague Alfred Grosser once corrected me: “the French 19th century Museum of Paris). Unfortunately, it is Monday and it is closed. Just across the street is another museum, the museum of the Légion d’honneur—not the most exciting one, but I realize I have never checked it, so I could have a try. But it is nearly always closed, especially on Mondays…