Revisiting the "Study" in Study Abroad

Turns out there is going to be quite a bit of studying involved after all! Today was my second day of real classes (the first 10 days involved nothing more than a 9-11 am "propedeutique" which is basically French grammar review to get us into the spirit). I had six full (nearly consecutive) hours of class today, all in French. It was exhausting. But luckily my courses seem promising.

I have already taken two of the exact courses--Modern Art history and a French cinema course--but now I can do them in French, maybe have an easier time, and actually SEE the oeuvres in real life, at least as far as the art history classes go.

I am taking:

1. Translation (everyone is required to take a French language course and I tested into the highest level. I have been taking French since the 6th grade and would have been quite dismayed were I to learn I had to take Level 2 French grammar or some shit.)

2. history of Modern Art

3. Paris Museums (another Art history course)

4. Beginning Drawing

5. history of French cinema

All of my professors seem enthusiastic and promising. I am particularly excited for my cinema class. Our course meets in a room named after Agnes Varda. Varda, a freaking awesome French film director, lives across the street from where I have classes. She lives in a purple and lavender house and her hair looks like this:

Of all the films on our syllabus for the cinema course, I have seen a good two thirds: Le Chien Andalou, Partie de Campagne, Pepe le Moko (ha...), La Regle du Jeu, Les Enfants du Paradis, Cyrano de Bergerac... ah well. There are also plenty I haven't seen: Les Freres Lumiere, L'Age d'Or, Quai des Orfevres, Nuit et Brouillard, Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, and a few others.

Something I'm pretty excited about in terms of this course is our "recherches personnels" which basically translates to "personal research." Our professor, an adorable older man who speaks v-e-e-e-r-y slowly for us and has such poor English that I will never understand no matter how hard he tries, told us to record movies we've watched, thoughts we have on anything visual media, actors, you get the idea. hey, I do this almost every day for fun! Nice.

Sadly I will probably never go out to Queen, a gay dance club that is free for women on Wednesdays (why they would even let us in I do not know--many gay clubs don't allow the likes of us at all) because I have class from 9-5:30 pm and sometimes later every Tuesday and Thursday. Ah well. I will just have to take advantage of the lighter days, that is, every other day of the week!

Food Post

Kind of obligatory, don't you think? France is known for its cuisine, and here I am, depriving you all of the most important topic of all: food. Now, for the first five days of my time in Paris, I was quite nauseous most of the time. "how awful!" you should think, "that she may not enjoy the wonder that is French cuisine!" Don't you worry, I am quite back to my normal ways, which, as you know, are consuming more than the average beast. (And I certainly saved a few euro in those days.)

To my dismay, the IES program only provides students in homestays with three meals a week, plus a continental breakfast. This means that for the other 14 meals, we are on our own. Now unless you are positively rolling in cash, it is simply not possible to eat out 14 times a week. A more realistic number would be two. Four-five other times, you can grab a baguette sandwich or panini from a boulangerie in between 2-4 euroes which is a pretty sweet deal. The rest of the time, you're on your own. (For the record, however, Mme is a fantastic cook. So far she has made us pork curry, omelettes, crepes, gratin, and salads. Dinner is always, always followed by cheese.)

For the first 10 days of study abroad, this meant I was munching on leftover airplane food (not as gross as it sounds--things like crackers and almonds I had packed from Seattle), and a box of satsumas I had purchased and chocolate pudding. So basically I was eating chocolate and satsumas. No wonder my skin reminds me of my days as a preteen. Anyway, I am getting the hang of eating cheaply. Tonight I bought a bagfull of mangoes from a street vendor (3 for 2 euroes) and a package of bowtie pasta (only the best) and some questionable pasta sauce. And earl grey tea. This should last me through the week? We'll see.

Now when I am not scrimping and saving, I am blowing my money on important things like macarons. Today Kiley and I spent the afternoon like real ladies--at tea at Laduree (St. Germain-des-Pres location). Laduree is a famous Parisian patisserie founded way back in 1862. It is full of women in furs and American sorority sisters. You'd think it would be the last place I would want to be but you are oh so wrong. I am amoureuse des macarons. One time my good friend Lara and I even tried to bake them! But they looked more like tiny pancakes than anything else. I ordered a pot of Earl Grey tea and four mini macarons: raspberry, chocolate, violet-cassis (by far the most divine), and pistachio. I actually ordered orange blossom instead of pistachio but the service in Paris blows so I got stuck with pistachio.

The other especially notable culinary experience I had was of a more humble nature. Starved in the Marais, and unwilling to wait in a 40 minute line for what is rumored to be Paris' best falafel, I opted for a bagel from the first Jewish bakery I saw. I ordered a bagel with salmon cream cheese. I got this:

It was exquisite. I wolfed the entire thing down, savored the tiny pickles tucked into the center hole, and proceeded to cradle my belly for the next hour or so. I cannot wait to return and try the challah, falafel, pizzas, babka, and baklava. If I ever branch out from this bagel, that is.

Almost Just Like Home

Yesterday Kiley and I started off the day (more like mid-day, as we had gone out on Friday night) with a run. It was my first run in Paris. I had previously managed to convince myself that due to the excessive hours of walking every day I would not need any further exercise but Kiley, who had already been here a semester, convinced me otherwise. So I will attempt to run once in a while. We ran to a nearby park called Parc George Brassens which, to my surprise, was filled with French runners! It was freezing out, and my lungs ached all day, and I ran for only half the time that Kiley ran, but it was still nice. In the springtime, the park should look something like this:

Later we met up with some other girls from the program to check out one of Paris' museums of fashion. Sadly, it was closed, despite the internet having stated otherwise (oh Europe and your endless excuses for breaks/closures). Instead, we came upon a cafe which turned out to cater to chocolate lovers. The four of us sat in the back of the place and ordered delicious dark hot chocolates and played several games of Bananagrams, none of which I won. I actually thought that I had won three of the four times, and had yelled out "I WIN!" and every time I ended up having some bogus word which I had either neglected or thought was real (doesn't "spanse" sound like a real word though?).

Enticed by signs pointing to a nearby aquarium, we were only disappointed to find that the prices were rather astronomical (as they are at most aquariums, really). Instead we settled for some greasy French snacks--fries, croque monsieurs, crepes. Later we walked around the Trucadero district and spent an hour or two in the Museum of Architecture. It smelled very pleasant which is rather unusual for European museums. It was full of models, recreations, and ideas for future housing projects in Paris.

The combination of rainy grey weather, being outside, hot beverages, and crossword games really lent a Seattle feel to the day. Of course that night we went and undid all of that with mojitos at a hotspot on the oversexed Boulevard de Clichy.

Love and Other Drugs

You all probably thought that since I was going to be in Paris for several months, I was going to stop watching movies and writing about them. So, so false. Movies are my go-to comfort (among other things such as eating cheese, petting/talking to any cat I can get my hands on, and reading). When life gives you time change, inclement weather, too many emotions, and a budget, you bet your booty I'll be in bed watching movies on my computer. And yes, I am aware that I live in Paris.

At first deterred by the typical tear-jerker rom-com label, and determined that I did not need an excuse to shed tears, I eventually decided to give Love and Other Drugs a go-around. First off, I liked the title. Simple, clever, but ultimately the Truth. Ke$ha said it right: your love certainly is a drug. Then there are two young, beautiful, supple, and often naked stars. Why the hell not.

The start of the film filled me with doubt. It was uncomfortably fast-paced and manic, and the transition from this sky-high energy to a calmer give-and-take after Jamie meets Maggie is all too noticeable. It gets cute, cuter, and cutest, though, so you watch and then keep watching.

As with most things, it all depends on your expectations. I expected to be pretty entertained, and so I was. If you can ignore the film's restlessness and melodramatic moments, you will surely enjoy it too.

Disregarding how charmed I was, I wanted more (I always want more. More, more more...). I tried to cry. I wanted to, you know? But I just couldn't. Though Jamie and Maggie clearly had earth-shattering chemistry, and though I could have sworn each posed shot of them draped over one another in her huge bohemian apartment was taken from an Anthropologie catalog, the charm didn't quite manage to turn into something deeper. Sure, I appreciate the fact that from the start, the story would not be an ultimately happy one, because it never is with a deteriorative illness. But it just wasn't enough.

In effect, I don't know what I'm complaining about. I told you from the start I was pleasantly surprised, but that's also because I went in with low expectations. I keep telling myself maybe life would be a whole lot more swell if I went about everything with mightily low expectations, and would therefore never be disappointed with the way things turned out. But try as I might, I'm just not made like that. There are certainly cinematic gems out there; Love and Other Drugs, unfortunately, is just a bit of cubic zirconium.

Today's thoughts

It is absolutely impossible to avoid cigarette smoke in Paris. Therefore, if you are extremely averse to cigarette smoke, do not come to Paris. I am not personally extremely averse to cigarette smoke, but I certainly prefer my fresh PNW air. I feel like I'm smoking a pack a day here.

A Bit of Everything

Today was my first day of classes. This week, however, is limited to something called propedeutique, which is basically a series of intense review sessions concerning nothing but French language and grammar. Luckily they are quite simple and the two hours pass quickly. Afterwards, I enjoyed a cafe au lait with a couple of girls from IES.

Note on people on the IES program: I know, I know... everyone who had done this program before warned me. Don't expect to make a lot of friends at IES. Well, I thought they were simply afraid to take risks to get to know people better. Now, allow me to say that despite my having been here a mere week, they were right. Where does IES find these people?? Anyway, I am lucky to have Kiley around as well as a few girlfriends from highschool on other programs and several girls in my actual program. Of course my resolution is to get friendly with some French monseiurs as well but so far I have not had much of a chance to attempt this.

Yesterday I spent a brief period of time in the Marais district (will promptly return for people watching, challah nomming, and fripping--thrift store shopping). It was lovely. Packed, too, as I was there on a Sunday. I stopped by Kusmi Tea which is basically designer tea but I couldn't help myself. Later Carol and I had some Chinese dumplings in the Belleville area which is somewhat sketchy but loaded with cheap and delicious Asian eateries. After Carol departed, I spent an hour or two in a nearby park, Buttes Chaumant. It was popular and I saw that people in Paris actually do work out (there were a lot of joggers). There were also a ton of couples with baby strollers, couples walking hand in hand, couples sitting on benches, groups of friends smoking, older people playing cards in the grass, and a few stragglers, of course. I felt a bit like one of them until I located a lovely grassy hill upon which I sat for a good hour.

I saw a lady walking a cat on a leash!!!! Kitty and the City.

Yes, it is January. But the weather here has been incredible since I've arrived, hardly dropping into the 30s, and often in the low 50s. I know it won't last so I've been taking advantage.

Speaking of taking advantage of spending time outdoors, I spent another good hour wandering through Cimitiere Montparnasse on my own today. After my morning course, I had four hours to kill and whereas the bartenders will allow you to sit with your cafe for an hour, four is really pushing it. So I accidentally wandered into the cemetery. It was beautiful and large and ancient and interspersed with "Famille X" and "Famille Y" were graves of people like Jean-Paul Sartre and Simon de Beauvoir. I located the aforementioned grave and sat and journaled for a while. I can tell I am going to be spending a substantial amount of time alone this semester, but I am really looking forward to it.

In general, I feel more at ease every day and actually already felt sad that I would eventually have to leave this incredible city. But that's like being sad about eventually dying when you're still alive. So I am working on soaking up every minute of my time here because eventually it will all have passed me by.

A few lessons for those of you who have never been to Paris: The cliches are true--men, women, and children walk/scooter the streets with baguettes tucked under their arms. It's adorable and hilarious. It's true that people wear mostly black and make out in public all the time. I actually don't mind it at all, except that it makes me kind of jealous. Instead of saying "bonne nuit" for "have a good night," everyone says "bon soiree" because apparently "bonne nuit" is something you only say to your sweetheart before you roll over to sleep (I learned this after telling a bartender this very thing upon exiting his bar). And instead of "bon soiree" people say "bon courage" which basically means "good luck." I don't know why they're constantly wishing each other luck but why the hell not. One thing I really need to work on is to stop smiling at strangers. Nobody does that here, and my inability to unlearn my friendly Seattlite behavior costs me my Parisian camouflage.

Marche Puces et l'Orangerie

This morning I went to a place I know I'll be frequenting at least twice a month: the marche puces at Porte de Vanves. Marche=market; puces=fleas. Flea market. So this one was ridiculous, very vintagey and unusual. Tons of interesting people. I wanted to take pictures of the people and the trinkets, but I felt weird with a camera in general, so I refrained from getting my Sartorialist on and stuck to the trinkets.

I could have spent a lot of money at this place (and probably will over the course of 4 months) but all I bought today was an ancient key and chain which I put together into a necklace. The vender became my first French admirer, telling me I looked "tres attirante avec ce coupe de garcon" -- very attractive with my boy haircut.

Viola!

Later I met up a few IES students and staff member and we walked around the Gardin Tuileries, a very old public garden located between the Louvre and Place de Concorde. It was created by Catherine de Medicis in 1564. We wanted to go on the ferris wheel but decided that 10 euro could be better spent. Instead we got in for free (our IES student card allows us free entrance into most museums in Paris) to the Orangerie, a museum specially orchestrated by Monet which houses his rounded works.

This one's by Matisse. Reminded me of ma mere.

I'm still not feeling very well, sleep's a bit out of whack and feeling nauseous and overwhelmed a lot of the time. The mornings are the worst. I am trying to be patient with myself. hopefully as the weeks go by I will feel like my grand old self.

Arrival in The City of Lights

After a three hour delay of my first flight (Seattle-->Chicago), I had ten minutes to make it from the first flight to the second (Chicago-->Paris). By some miracle, the gate to which the first flight pulled up was literally right next to the one I needed to get to for my flight to Paris. Seems I keep adding to my epic airport stories...

I took a taxi to my homestay in the 15th after failing to understand how to pay for a bus ticket (damn machines...). It was expensive but after the traveling I wasn't really in any position to lug three pieces of luggage and my po' self around rainy Paris. The taxi driver was very sweet and we chatted intermittently. he asked me where I was from and when I responded "les Etats-unis" he would not believe me! he said my French was excellent and he thought I was European. Score. 10 points for Gryffindor.

Paris was incredibly grey and rainy when I arrived. however, Sunday promises to be sunny! Luckily it's been above freezing and actually kind of nice. I was surprised to find it balmier than Seattle.

Speaking of Seattle, I think I'm kind of homesick already. Well, perhaps that isn't true--I'm more just discombobulated and anxious for what is to come, which I know is completely normal. My host mother, Mme Clement, is in her sixties and really sweet and welcoming. She is graceful and chic and straightforward. I hear her setting up dinner (I hear from past students she is also an awesome cook). hopefully I can hold some food down as my body is very confused about this whole business.

Tomorrow morning I leave for my first day of IES orientation. First shot at public transportation on my own, too. Wish me luck. Oh, and that picture of the Eiffel Tower is the view from my bedroom. No big deal.

New Directions

this is not a post about Glee (chuckle chuckle those of you who indulge).

I'm going through a rough time and realizing how everything is very interconnected. One of these things is my mom's death, to which, I feel, I've closed myself off over the past several years. In an attempt of emotional release, and a celebration of my amazing mom's life, I have decided to dedicate my semester in Paris to her. She always loved traveling, especially to Paris, and she was the one with whom I was first able to discover this beautiful city. I will seek to keep her in my thoughts everywhere I go, see the city through her eyes and mine, and recall our days there together. Maybe I'll even write her a letter or two. Just an idea.

I love you, Mommy.