Playing catch-up

I lost my voice.

I'm pretty sure this is the product of a lack of sleep (fête fête fête!), lots of chatting, and over-comsumption of cheese and baguettes. Not that cheese and baguettes are by themselves terrible for you... but that's all I eat. As a result I'm seriously lacking in nutrients and my immune system is down.

This causes a couple of problems: of course, when you're sick you have less energy to go out and explore things (although I'm very willing to push past that), but mostly it's just that I can't talk. In other words, I can't speak French. At least, not very audibly. I'm supposed to go to the country with my host family and their friends tomorrow, but I'm not sure how much I'll be able to contribute to the conversation. It'll probably be a lot of listening from my end.

Vocal difficulties aside, I've had a really great week. I'm sorry I haven't been great lately about frequent posts, but it's been pretty busy with my friends here. I'm so so happy to have Reid, Anna and Mandi here with me - although I was loving all of the independent walks in Paris and trips to the museums, it's nice to have some real friends here.

Yesterday was fantastic. After class, Reid (who also has her program in the same building) and I took the subway back to her host mom's apartment, bought some cheese and baguettes (so predictable), and found a shady spot in the park where we could escape the sweltering heat. The weather here has been so strange lately; as I was walking to school yesterday, it was about 25°C and raining. Anyways, we had such a lovely time catching up, and the best part was that it was mostly in French. I'm so thankful that she's willing to really work on the language with me, even though it would have much easier (and faster) to speak in English.

Last night, after walking for ages and grocery shopping in the humidity, we went over to Anna's for dinner. I hadn't cooked in so long and, if I do say so myself, we did a good job. We started with melon and prosciutto and then helped ourselves to second portions of gemelli pasta with eggplant, tomato, olives and goat cheese. All accompanied by a bottle of wine, of course. (I will include pictures that Reid took later.) We talked until we realized it was close to midnight, and decided to spend the night in her otherwise empty house. Needless to say, it was another morning of commuting in clothes from the night before, observing all of the Parisians on their way to work. One beak-nosed man on the metro with dyed, slicked-back blonde hair and a beard was sitting down, when the train came to a sudden halt and an Asian woman standing up accidentally stepped on his foot. He gave her the most evil snake eye I have ever seen. Scoffing in disgust, he said, "It's not very nice," with a heavy French accent. He definitely didn't give me the impression of a population of morning people, although to be fair, it's Friday.

Other notable things I've done recently: I went to an 8:30 service at the Notre Dame on Sunday. It didn't really do much for me, personally, because I couldn't understand much of the old French and we were sitting in the back, but it was interesting to hear a sermon in a different language. Plus, I'd never been to a Catholic service before.

A room in the Pompidou

I went to the Pompidou on Wednesday, and was utterly impressed. It's in this weird, futuristic factory-looking thing where you have to take the escalator in these glass tubes on the outside of the building. Honestly, it was a bit confusing to try and find the art. But architecture aside, there was a really strong collection of modern art. I both love and have no patience for modern art because I think it can be too bizarre just for the sake of shocking people, but they had some really nice pieces. Lots of Picasso, lots of Delaunay, and even some Dalí. I plan on going back to see the rest soon.

Oh, and I meant to make a new post out of it, but I forgot; on Wednesday, an ice cream changed my life. I am not the type of person who usually makes such bold claims regarding food, but this is an exception. Berthillon is world-renown for their incredible ice cream, so after class some of us decided to  go to Îsle St Louis (the smaller island in the Seine) and brave the lines to try it. My mouth will never be the same. I had butter salted caramel and earl grey tea flavors. Um, yeah, pretty good. The caramel tasted exactly like that's what I was eating, rather than ice cream, with bites that were especially salty. My only qualm was that the portions were not very big, but that's just a French phenomenon, in general.

It's hard to believe I've been here for a month. I feel really comfortable in Paris and can usually find my way around without looking at a map (at least, not too frequently). And my French is worlds better than when I first got here, which is really exciting. Still, I'm glad I still have a month to solidify the language, better get to know my host family, and hopefully do some traveling around France. But don't get me wrong, I already look forward to coming home...

Les Femmes Fatales

After being here for almost a month (!), I've had time to observe not just historic monuments but also cultural/societal differences; lately a recurring theme has been how different the relationships between men and women here are, in comparison with the States, England or Sweden. Please excuse the rant you are about to read.

Women here are: strong, sexy, stylish, smart, self-driven, and, most importantly, no-nonsense. There's almost a taboo against putting your hair up in a bun in the US, in order to avoid giving the impression of being "frigid;" not so here. Slicked-back in a ponytail, in a tight knot or in long tresses -- anything goes. The same can be said for makeup; whether sporting bright red or coral lipstick or simply going au naturale, basically women just own whichever look they decide to go with. Two common themes, however, are high-heels and scarves. The other day I saw a women riding a motorcycle wearing stilettos. Unfortunately, the population on average seems to be a good few inches shorter than what I was used to in Sweden (or at Harvard, for that matter, surrounded by all of my friends who row crew), so I already feel gigantic. No heels for me. The scarf thing, though. That I could try.

source: spinzmovies.blogspot.com

Anyways, women here are much more stand-offish than in the States. I'm not sure whether consequentially or as a cause of this (it's a chicken-and-egg question), the men - as I've mentioned - are very forward here. The looks in the street are unnerving. The whistling is a bit much. So the women walk quickly, look straight ahead, and make the men work for their attention. It's always the men who do the approaching, who take initiative. An interesting contrast with the US or especially London, where the girls are all decked-out at clubs to get any sort of attention from guys. I've heard it said that the French think English women are too showy... They certainly wear more makeup (and more black).

One could say that the French stick almost religiously to traditional gender norms. Not that women can't work or anything - quite the opposite in Paris - but that women should be feminine and men should be charming. (It's not always charming, but they try.) This is so different from Stockholm, where androgyny is all around. Men are pretty... feminine, what with the pierced ears and slicked-back hair and tight jeans. Women wear men's clothing (although, there are plenty of high heels to be seen there, as well). And overall the relationships seem to be a bit more women-driven. Or rather, the men are more passive. Indicative of the politics, perhaps? Hmm...

I'm learning to, if not assimilate, at least become accustomed to the ways of the country. I've started to wear sunglasses so that people can't make eye contact with me. It's working, so far. Luckily it's not exactly like this at home...

J'aime bien la musique

Sorry for the delay; the past couple of days have been jam-packed with adventure. Thursday night was Fête de la Musique, a huge party where professional and amateur musicians alike perform in the streets of Paris. There are some listed events/staged performances, but you end up walking/taking the metro from place to place, following your ear to wherever a crowd of people have started to gather as a result.

I was able to meet up with my friend, Anna, from Harvard this week, which was simply lovely. She's doing an internship where she translates Surrealist history/artifacts from French, which sounds wayy more legitimate than what I'm doing. Ah, well. She doesn't have homework, I guess.

We went to Fête together, starting at the Comedie Française, where an orchestra was playing a rock ballad.

Then we heard a rock music in the courtyard nearby, where a Swiss group was playing catchy, folksy songs in English, interspersed by commentary in French and German. Some of their lyrics were a little strangely translated, with lines like, "I want to be your hamburger when you're eating fast food," or, "I got a little bit shit-faced last night, yeah, yeah!" Nonetheless, it was enjoyable.

Then we headed over to a corner café, where a jazz singer was pouring her heart out in soulful melodies. So typical Paris.

We ended the night back at the apartment of a family friend's where Anna's staying, talking to the daughter and her friends in Frenglish. I spent the night and then took the Metro back home the next morning, still wearing my black dress, very walk-of-shame like.

I took a shower and then got ready to meet up with my friend, Maddie, from my grammar class, for an all day (and night) concert called, "Solidays." It was actually a three-day music festival, but we only bought tickets for the first day to see the acts we knew. Other than some trouble getting home (we tried to catch a taxi for a couple hours to no avail until we finally decided to wait for the Metro to open at 5:30am), it was a really fun night and all of the bands were fantastic.

So after waking up at 2pm, I'm hoping to meet up with some other friends from Harvard who finally arrived this morning. It's not helping with my French immersion, but I'm really looking forward to seeing them. And we'll probably go out again tonight. As my host dad can now tell you, YOLO.

so tired. must blog.

I'm going to skip the commentary for tonight. We went to Versailles today and had a picnic dinner on the grass. This after having spent the afternoon perusing the Musée d'Orsay. And it was sunny today. No complaints from my end. Just pictures.

Goat herding?

(Finally) A picture of my wonderful host family

Yep.

craziness

Today was the Eurocup against Sweden. Last night was wine tasting. Both fun for different reasons.

The wine tasting was in the cellar of a swanky wine bar, where the host taught us about the different components of the wines, as well as where they came from (all in French). Accompanied by bread and cheese and salami, it was a very good night.

Tonight I went to the Eiffel Tower to watch soccer (a bit out of character for me, but hey, if Sweden's playing...). It was worth going to for the spectating, alone. There were lots of people with (France's) red-white-and-blue smeared on their faces, the paint melting in the rain. The decorations looked even more miserable after France had lost, although I can't say I was too sad about Sweden's victory... I then took the Metro, stuffed to the brim with disappointed French people, back to the apartment.

Some things I've seen lately:

- A man wearing nothing but a blanket, wrapped around his head like a Russian doll, walking barefoot through the street.

- A woman with purple cornrows

In an archway at the Louvre

- A couple of men in white lab coats standing outside a Centre de Santé (Health Center), smoking cigarettes. So French. I then saw the same man on my way back from school. You know you're not just a tourist when you remember the locals.

- Guy on the Metro playing the "Sexy Saxophone Player Saxman" song on a handheld keyboard that you blow into. I'm sure it has a name.

Passed by this beautiful specimen yesterday

- The same woman and child on the same corner of the same street every day, begging for money. It kills me every time.

Anyways, that's all for now. Versailles tomorrow.

An American in Paris

Sometimes I feel like a real idiot here. This morning, I couldn’t open the door to my apartment.  No, not from the outside, from the inside. I couldn’t leave. I was already running a bit late, having stayed up past my bedtime to finish correcting a composition, so my family had already left. Little did I know that they would bolt the door before they left, meaning I had to unlock the door to leave the apartment. I stood in front of that thing for several minutes, pushing on the knob and twisting the latch this way and that, before my host mom called me back. I had sent her a text, asking how to “salir a travers la porte,” but she didn’t understand what I was trying to say. Salir is the Spanish word for “to leave,” and, while it is a verb in French, it means “to soil/get dirty.” Cool. “Dear host mom, how do I get dirty through the door?” Very intelligent.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had trouble exiting through doors. The first time I tried to go out of a Metro station with a specific “in” and “out” – at the Louvre, no less, which has a lot of traffic – I for the life of me could not figure out how to make the door open. I pushed with all my might, but to no avail. Finally, a kind, Asian tourist took pity on me, came around from the other side and pushed on the green “POUSSEZ” button. "Push." Et voilà, it worked. This being at the beginning of my trip, I wasn’t sure which French expression to use to express my ineptitude, so I just slapped my forehead in exasperation. The universal sign for “I cannot believe that just happened.”

The cool, but also intimidating, thing about blogging is that my words reach people from all over the world. I can check the statistics of where the traffic is coming from, and during this week alone I’ve had readers from the US, Sweden, France, Germany, Canada, Russia, Great Britain, Chili, Italy and Brazil. How they found me, I will never know. Anyways, I hope all of you international people don’t assume all Americans are this incompetent… I promise, it’s just me.

To further underline my American-ness, I might add that I am writing this post from a McDonald’s (called affectionately, “MacDo,” by the French). To be fair, it’s the only place with WiFi in this area where I’m supposed to meet up with a friend, but still, I’m feeling less-than-exotic right about now. Ah, well. Off to the Musée Picasso to make up for it.

Bahh, jschepa.

This weekend was pretty sweet. We left yesterday for Rouen, a city about an hour outside of Paris, and came back tonight. By "we" I mean a guy from my class and I. We stayed with some family friends of his, who were kind enough to feed me and give me a place to sleep (with a gorgeous view, I might add), despite never having met them before.

Yet another spectacular bedroom window view

Weird as it may sound, it was really nice to get out of Paris. Not because I was getting tired of Paris (my goodness, I'm pretty sure that's impossible), but because I almost got too used to how great it was. Plus, it's nice to be out in the countryside a little bit, in an actual house with an actual backyard. They fed us so well (hmm... are we sensing a theme here?) and were extremely accommodating.

Rouen is a nice little gem. Where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, you know, just casual. Typical France. But in all seriousness it has a slower pace and more manageable size than Paris does. It looks German? The architecture, I mean. Which is kind of odd. I'm sure there's a reason for that, but as it is late on a Sunday night, I have homework to do after this and really can't muster up the energy to Wikipedia the genealogy of the village. Although, I do know that during the German occupation in WWII, much of the city was bombed. Parts of the Notre-Dame cathedral (the one in Rouen, not Paris) actually crumbled and had to be rebuilt. This Cathedral is the very same one that Monet was obsessed with. Okay, "obsessed" is maybe an exaggeration - he did a series of paintings of the Notre-Dame using different lighting, from different angles, etc. Below is the cathedral (top) and those paintings in the d'Orsay (bottom).

The best part about the whole weekend was that we used a lot of French with the family's son and his girlfriend and their friends. Aka: I learned a lot of slang. They blur a lot of words together so it's kind of hard to understand at times. For example, Je ne sais pas ("I don't know") becomes "jschepa." Classy. It was great practice, though. I had been craving some interaction with real French people, which, other than with my host family and randos on the street, doesn't happen that often.

Oh, but I should mention that on Friday we attended a private concert in a beautiful apartment. Other than my stomach audibly growing the whole time because I had eaten some bits of cheese and cucumber for lunch and then had to wait until horderves were served at about 11:00pm (whhyyy do the French people eat so late?!?), it was lovely. That same day I went to see a French movie in theater. I couldn't understand half of it, but it'll be a nice litmus test to watch it at the end of the summer and see how much I pick up.

Anyways, last night we all went to a bar in Rouen (truthfully, it was an Irish pub named something like O'Kallagan's -- not super French) and just had a great time joking around in French. I felt so great about how much more I could understand, how much more I could say, following their less-than-textbook conversations. [Sorry I talk so much about language but, well, that's what I'm doing here.] Today we went to an old, beautiful abbey nearby and also hiked up a hill overlooking Rouen. Again, visual pleasure for your enjoyment:

I'm excited to meet up with some good friends from school this week who will be here in Paris for a while, as well. Good times yet to be had. Still haven't done my homework due tomorrow... or rather, today (12:30am here). Priorities, man.

observations, in no particular order.

1. French people eat faster than Swedes. It could be that my family just eats really slowly, but as I've spent a lot of time eating over the past month, I've had time to notice such things.
2. They also speak much more quickly. It's not just the liaisons between words; in general French requires more words to say the same thing and each word is clipped, rather than drawn out like sleepy Swedish.
3. The double-kiss thing definitely exists. It's the first thing you do when you meet people, although the level of wetness depends on how forward the other person is. The French are definitely not bashful about public displays of affection. I've seen couples kissing in line at the Louvre, in the Metro, at cafés, at parks, on the streets...
4. Speaking of the metro, it's a great place for people watching. One guy across from me was rolling a cigarette in between taking swigs from his beer on the floor. There are lots of people going to/coming from work, and it's fun to imagine where they go when the day is through. 
5. Men are very forward here. I don't feel like I need to elaborate much on this, but the attention on the streets is worlds away from the timid Scandinavians.
6. Cheese is very important. And the quality is just better in general. If you come to Paris, best not to expect to find any Kraft American Singles.
7. Also important are common courtesy words. You can't just walk into a shop and look around without saying anything. One is expected to greet the store owner with "Bonjour," say "Merci" for everything, and then greet them on your way out. If the French have a reputation of being rude it's because there are different standards for interactions. Maybe because the men are so forward, women have to be short in order not to egg them on.
8. There are some religious discrepancies that I'm not sure I'm qualified enough to explain. I've heard that, while it's okay to be Muslim or Jewish, there is active discrimination against Christians. I have yet to go to church here, but I think it would be a good experience (especially in one of those gorgeous chapels).
9. French people are, as reputed, quite thin on the whole. It may be because of all of the cigarettes, but I can imagine the walking doesn't hurt, either. It's hard to find places to run here so I haven't "exercised" in two weeks (yikes). The miles I walk every day are the only thing stopping me from having to buy new clothes, despite eating baguettes and cheese all day.
10. There are also a lot of men here with widows' peaks. I told you this list had no rhyme nor reason.
11. The public has a funny attitude towards their new president's, Francois Holland's, mistress, calling her basically the lover of France. They also say that the media misrepresented Nicholas Sarkosy to play up his personal life more than his politics. Too late now.
12. Lots of poverty. Lots of beggars. A lot of gypsy kids who ask you over and over again to sign their "papers" so they can (sometimes) steal your wallet. A lot of cripples bent over so it breaks your heart to say no. People sitting on doorsteps during a downpour. Like in any major city. Still, it's a good reminder that even Paris isn't perfect.
13. Produce is more expensive here than in the States. The cucumber I bought yesterday was €1.50. I'm justifying the lack of vegetables by averaging it out with the ridiculous amounts of salad I eat throughout the rest of the year.

I know there's more I wanted to write about, but that'll do for now. I love picking up on the little idiosyncrasies of each city. My eyes are wide open here.

little things.

I walked across Paris and back today – no exaggeration. I plugged my route into GoogleMaps and I walked 21km today (about 13 miles). I’m so tired and so close to falling asleep, but I feel like I owe my family an update on the past couple of days.

Yesterday we made macaronnes -- the delicious little cookies infamously adored by Marie Antoinette -- from scratch. It was one of the many excursions offered to us through the Reid Hall program. Along with the tours of Pigalle, l’Hotel de Ville and Giverny, I have to say that I am pretty satisfied with the available cultural activities here.

The baking class was held at l’Ecole de Patisserie de Paris, a culinary school. After getting a demonstration from our (very patient) teacher, we sifted pulverized almonds and beat egg whites until our hands were sticky and our efforts resembled something like a macaronne. The recipe was surprisingly easy to follow. And man, oh man, were they delicious. I ate five for my lunch. Hopefully I’ll have the diligence to make these when I come home…

 

After class yesterday I went back to the Musée d’Orsay to see the Post-Impressionists. I then painted until dinnertime and slept like a log (as I plan to do tonight). I’ll post pictures of my paintings later, I promise.

Today I walked to school, walked to Montmartre, ate a crepe and listened to a violin player on the steps by the Sacre Coeur. Then I walked back home and crashed.

I have so much to say, my head is swimming with observations, but if I try to articulate my thoughts right now I don’t feel like I’ll do them justice.

A bien tôt,

-A

Métro, Boulot, Dodo

Métro, boulot, dodo is the French equivalent of "the daily grind." I now have a daily routine, meaning I'm not stumbling [as] cluelessly around the city anymore, which is kind of cool.

I wake up at about 8am and have a leisurely breakfast of baguette and homemade jam and maybe some cheese or peanut butter (not very French). 

Then I walk about 45 min to school (unless I'm running late, in which case I take the metro -- above is the sign at the Louvre metro station). I either listen to Billie Holiday or read the New Yorker.

I usually have some kind of fruit and pastry or baked good for lunch. Yesterday I had a croissant and Camembert, the most French of french cheeses. It stunk up my backpack, but it was worth it.

Then after class I do some sort of cultural activity or just walk around. Yesterday we went on a tour with my group at l'Hotel de Ville, a very famous, old hotel with paintings of the General Lafayette and such. Then I went to the Musée d'Orsay and drooled over the Impressionists. Pas mal.

It's raining in Paris. Although it's not quite the same as sunning myself all day in Sweden, my routine here leaves me with little to complain about. Yesterday I bought an entire baguette for dinner; the whole thing cost less than the croissant I had for lunch. Walking back home from the Musée d'Orsay, wearing my trench coat, listening to jazz while rain dripped off of my umbrella onto the crust of my bread (of which I ripped off chunks), I felt like such a local. Naturally, if someone had asked me to speak, any illusions of nativeness would have evaporated (and I'm sure I didn't look very Parisian while taking the above photo), but no matter. I'm developing a rhythm here. I know what kinds of cheese I like. I know the position of the Louvre relative to other monuments. Life is good.

No one said it was going to be easy...

My brain is tired. I think I'm in sensory overload at the moment. It feels like my head is a fishbowl, words swimming around aimlessly until they float to the bottom and cement themselves into my consciousness. Add that to a persistent inability to fall asleep/sleep in and I'm basically tired all the time.

Yesterday, I spent the entire day with Vincent and Sophie, plus (unbeknownst to me) about a dozen of their friends. So much French. Many of them had young kids, who were somewhat difficult to understand (albeit very cute). After returning from the Aviation Museum we went to someone's apartment, where the intellectual discussions abounded -- in French. They talked about immigration, business and poverty, and asked me questions about myself. In French. Then I discussed religion with Sophie over dinner later last night. In French. And today I had a wonderful dinner with Sophie's parents and siblings, where I was able to talk about my life goals, background, etc. (you guessed it... in French).

No one said it was going to be easy.

On the plus side, I can tell that my comprehension is getting loads better, as is my recall. This afternoon on my stroll along the Seine I stopped to speak with two different artists (each a little crazy), me stating my preference of acrylic over watercolor. Today a woman mistook me for a French person and asked me for directions, which was a huge compliment. I'm able to order at restaurants/ask for help without a problem. So while I'm not great, I do sense that I'm making huge progress.

Anyways, more later. Time to do my homework...

In French.

Looking over my shoulder as I ate my lunch

French possibilities

Well, currently I'm waiting for my family to come back so we can go to the Aviation Museum (slightly random?). Yesterday we went with other students in the program to Giverny, home of Monet's garden. I had a mixed reaction with the place; of course it was beautiful, but it was so crammed with tourists taking pictures of the waterlilies and from his bedroom window that it was easy to forget the significance of the location.

I tried to tune out the tourists, the cameras, the English around me and imagine what it was like in Monet's time. He lived there with his wife and eight children, not to mention a menagerie of gardeners (they say four just for the lilies). Monet would work on maybe six different paintings simultaneously because he knew that the change in light made all the difference, going out to the garden and stopping when he noticed that the shadows weren't the same anymore. In his time, there was no museum, no gift shop, no café around the corner. You couldn't hear the cars from the busy street leading into the otherwise sleepy town of Giverny. It would have just been him and the flowers.

There is a tension in France - as with most historic-yet-developed countries, I suppose - between the traditional and modern advancement. On the crumbling, stone houses in the town, satellite dishes hung on the chimneys and compact cars were parked in the driveways. We drove to Giverny on a giant tour bus, following a highway about two hours from Paris. Of course all cities have to keep up with the times, but it was strange to remark the dichotomy.

 

Last night, after eating a dinner of brie and fig jam (and other things) I'd bought from the supermarket, the three of us went to the neighbor's apartment for a little party/art installation. After small talk and walking around the room, looking at the paintings on the walls, the artist put on an amazing performance. She read poetry and sang in French, accompanied by guitar and a slide show of abstract images that she had painted. It was lovely. Also exciting to be able to understand the majority of what she said. Afterwards, a few of us went out and roamed the streets of Paris like the crazy American tourists we were.

I'm still frustrated by my speaking capability (which isn't helped by being around the other American students, all speaking English). And I still haven't painted in Paris, but I guess I have seven weeks.