Ma Vie à Paris

Paris est une fête.

2010-06-18T21:22:00.003+02:00

Howdy!

I guess the major news of today is that I AM HOME! I got back yesterday and have taken advantage of the last 24 hours to hug my family, eat crab enchiladas (thanks El Tiempo), observe all the new construction around town, caresser the pets (Flower, our dog, and Apple and Rossini, the cats), and begin the tedious process of unpacking and reorganizing. I'm a little discouraged from doing too much organizing, though, since I'll be moving again in two short months. Next week I'll make a trip to Austin to see all my lovelies, check out the house Colleen and I are renting next year, and deal with all that boring/official UT stuff.

Being back is WEIRD to say the least, and it seems like I can already feel the French (and Italian) slipping out of my brain. Nooo(n)! I've started teaching Flower French; I mean, she is half-poodle...she's a good listener but, as predicted, is having a little trouble getting rid of that anglophone "r". We'll get there.

As Thao predicted after the last post, I didn't have time to update during my last three weeks in Paris - too busy with finals, one last paper, friends visiting, and one last voyage - to Brussels and Amsterdam. After we got back from Amsterdam I had a short two days to pack everything up and say my goodbyes. Colleen was my lovely dining companion at Chartier and Le Refuge des Fondus, two restaurants I had been meaning to check out for quite a while. Delish! On Wednesday I had one last dinner with the family - bittersweet! I gave them the gifts that my parents had intended to give them - a southwestern-style bracelet for Laurence, Texas wine for Maurice, and a hand-crafted bobble-head armadillo for Camille (cooler than it sounds, actually - they got quite a kick out of it).

In the midst of all that activity, I found time to enjoy my last moments in the city, checking out a few places I'd never been before as well as making last visits to my favorite spots. Paris treated me well (must have heard my complaining in the last post) - a week before I left I enjoyed an unforgettable evening at the Café de l'Industrie near Bastille, where I had organized a little goodbye party. It was well attended and I think everyone had a great time. I am so grateful to have had so many friends come out to bid me au revoir!

To see photos of that evening as well as others taken in the last couple weeks on that continent, click here.
You can also see homecoming photos here.

I guess this au revoir for us, too. Needless to say, the last nine and half months have been an incredible journey for me that I will continue to reflect on in the coming days/weeks/months(/years?). But for now, I'll keep it short and sweet. A big MERCI to everyone who's been reading for your interest and support. And a big merci to Paris, too.

A bientôt,
Mademoiselle Alina :)

London and a row with Paris.

2010-05-24T20:34:00.020+02:00

Oops! I let 3 weeks slip by this time, but no one seems to have noticed. Either my devoted followers were just as busy as me (with finals, etc, you lucky Americans who are already done with the semester!)...or...y'all aren't so devoted after all!

Well. When I look over my planner from the last three weeks, they look quite hectic but not particularly interesting: took a (rather late) midterm, got some decent grades back from that and others, taught a bunch of English, and continued the bittersweet process of shutting down my life here (canceling phone contracts, etc).

The hectic monotony ended on Friday the 14th when one little miss Nicole Davis came through the now-familiar arrival doors at dear old Charles de Gaulle. Nicole and I have been best friends for going-on 7 years now and I'm so happy that she was able to come stay with me! We did lots of tourist stuff Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before I sent her off with my extra cell-phone, a copy of the amazing Paris Pratique, and lots of addresses, museum hours, cafe recommendations, etc. She got to meet lots of my friends here at various dinners and outings, too :)
Thursday around 7PM we were London bound via the Eurostar that goes through a tunnel under the English channel. It was a smooth ride despite some painful ear-popping as we alternately de- and ascended. On the other side we saw a familiar face that you know, too; temporary-Londoner Sara, who's just finishing up her study abroad program there. She helped us get to our hostel which was near her own residence and we cooked dinner in the small kitchen of her building while planning out our 3-day stay.
Let's play a game:
What everyone says about London: It's awesome.
Verdict: True. Ooh, hate to identify myself with the masses (sarcasm), but they were right about this one (not sarcasm). I guess I should have learned from not believing the hype about Austin (then adoring it) that sometimes there's a reason people rave about certain cities. I definitely want to live here for some extended period of time. It helps that the weather was gorgeous.
What everyone says about London: The Tube is hard to navigate.
Verdict: Liars! As long as you know the difference between East and West (and even if you don't, the stops are listed at the platform), I don't see how the London underground could be difficult to use. Bonus points for the "intelligent technology" in the Oyster Cards - definitely the most hassle-free experience I've had with public transport in a foreign city (and probably less hassle than visitors to Paris experience) and the doors which are decidedly less violent than Paris'. A+ for cleanliness as well. There was lots of construction and closures going on because of preparations for the 2012 Olympic Games, but thanks to Sara and frequent announcements in the stations, we encountered no problems getting where we wanted to go.
What everyone says about London: It's a cultural melting pot.
Verdict: True! Definitely more than any other city I've been to. So delightful to hear all those languages, hear all that music, see all those different foods (as far as the tasting, we tried to stick to English fare). I don't think it ~~would~~ will be difficult to keep up with my French and Italian if when I live there. There was also just a good, communal vibe that you don't get in Paris despite the presence of so many different nationalities. Let's face it, you can be born in France and still not be considered "French" by the government. On the other hand, it seems like anyone can be a Londoner (high alcohol tolerance recommended).

As you can see, I really enjoyed this trip. I had also heard that London is just too big to really see in a short time, but thanks to guide books (yes, plural) and smart planning, we saw almost everything on our (ambitious) wish-list with plenty of time to actually enjoy what we were seeing. Overall I was pleasantly surprised with how well London lived up to its hype (reputation for bad weather thankfully excluded!).
Another destination that lived up to its hype? The Tate Modern. I read about this museum years ago and the info on this architecturally-interesting structure (built in an old electrical plant) has been somewhere between the back and front of my mind ever since. When Nicole and I decided to pare down our (overly ambitious) museum list, it was such a relief when she agreed that the Tate Modern should be at the top of it. As it turns out, this is the only museum we made it to, and I only saw a small part - but I'll be back (even once I've seen all the art, since I also adored the coffee shop located on the 4th floor with a beautiful view over the river). I started with an exhibit on the Surrealism movement (and tangents) - love me some Ernst:

The Entire City

André Masson (operating on the concept of chance which became so important to the surrealists, he would throw a mixture of sand/glass/? onto the canvas and then bring a painting out of the random shapes which resulted):
https://www.tate.org.uk/collection/T/T06/T06822_8.jpg

De Chirico:

The Uncertainty of the Poet

Mona Hatoum:

Crib

I patted myself on the back when I walked into a room and immediately identified the two artists present: Picasso and Bacon (who I recently learned about at the Dublin City Gallery). Okay, not exactly the "best kept secrets" of the art world, but still, I'm glad I've been able to start connecting some dots based on the pieces I've seen and even more excited that I might actually be developing some artistic preferences based on something other than the pretty factor.

In another exhibit about Cubism, Futurism, and Vorticism (a style I'd never heard of before), I enjoyed this piece by Ed Ruscha, an artist working out of LA:

Dance?

It's made of stripes of "common household substances", like coffee grounds, mustard, and egg whites.

We managed to hit up all the major parks: Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, Regent Park, and Saint James' Park, as well as two major markets (Portobello Road and Camden). We wandered around Nottinghill and Sloan Square/Chelsea as well as the endlessly entertaining Covent Garden area and the perfectly-titled Piccadilly Circus (sort of like Times Square); we checked out the high-end fashions on Oxford Street, saw the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace (well, close enough - it was hard to see around/over the other 4 million people there), watched Big Bend chime, took pictures of Parliament from a bridge over the Thames, listened to a beautiful evensong at Westminster, and walked across Millennium bridge towards a beautifully-lit Saint Paul's at night. We also made sure to fit in all the major English culinary traditions (at least, the ones I could think of): tea time, fish n chips, bangers and mash, pies, and...beer. Yum. Except for all the cabbage, cooked carrots, and peas. Not a fan!!

After such a thrilling weekend, it was slightly difficult to come "home" to Paris, the city that constantly plays with my emotions. On the one hand I believe I have accomplished my goal of actually carving out a life here rather than having a series of random study-abroad experiences with no real rhythm, uniting thread, or deeper understanding of the culture I'm living in. The monotony I described above? That's actually a daily/weekly routine which I strove to create. I don't think it would have been possible without the "constant" in my life here which is the family I live with.
While my blog last semester often detailed my struggles in a new place, this semester it has been concentrated on the many trips I have been fortunate enough to make. Blogging about your weekly routine is likely to induce boredom and possibly sleep, for me and above all for you, and I have also been hesitant to make any over-arching comments on French or Parisian society and culture despite the constant, and often critical, analysis going through my head. Obviously real synthesis will take months and maybe even years to form (so look out for my blogs in 2020!), but I feel comfortable publicly admitting that I am officially ready to go home. I came here with an open mind despite all the warnings and stereotypes. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for several French people I have encountered (remember that post about the dinner I spent sitting next to someone who thought it was funny to refer to me as "Bush's daughter?"). This is not to say that I haven't had MANY, MANY amazing and gratifying experiences and met MANY awesome people, because I have (and hope to continue to do so). But I'm sick of being talked about by the table next to me at dinner whose occupants are so convinced I can't understand what they're saying. J'en ai marre de French people who assume that they know everything about me based on the country/state of my birth, and I'm tired of walking around with the general knowledge that I could at any moment have an extremely unpleasant and quite possibly insulting encounter with a snobbish/impatient/grumpy/rude Parisian. I think a major part of this is my appearance which, if not decidedly "American", is pretty definitely NOT French, and which leads to unfounded, split-second, unflattering judgments. Another major part of it is the fact that there seems to be an unwritten rule in France that if you hold any kind of position in which you are supposed to welcome and/or help people, you must at all times do the exact opposite, or at least perform your job with the maximum amount of disdain you can muster. My experience after dropping Nicole off at the airport today only served to solidify this impression - I helped more people get to Paris than the woman at the information desk. France, next time this position is open, try to hire someone who actually likes people. A minimum level of patience and basic knowledge of English (not for me but for the hundreds/thousands of people who go through there everyday and have NOT studied French) would be a plus as well. You would think the nice weather would put people in a better mood, but because good weather brings tourists, it seems to have the opposite effect. Not that people were particularly friendly during winter.
As I somewhat prematurely begin to reflect on the year, there is no doubt in my mind that I made the right decision to spend it here. Though I originally wanted to study in a smaller French city (ahem, in the South), that wasn't an option through UT exchange programs, and in any case I believe knowledge of the cultural and political capital of the country is essential to any understanding of French society (and will serve me well when I return to live in France at some point). There's no doubt that I've grown as a person and, above all, that I've improved my language skills in both French and Italian. But the size and pace of the city has definitely inhibited my attempts at assembling some kind of French friend group (also affected by inherently different social behaviors) and NOT living under constant judgment and not-so-rare insults from neurotic and self-entitled Parisians would have been nice. Lately it seems like my experiences here have been alternating ones of adoration for the city and horror/disgust at the way the people in it behave. You know something's wrong when you feel a rush of gratitude and a smile spreading across your face just because a social interaction was moderately pleasant. Comparing opinions with people - sometimes French people - has confirmed that I am not the only one who thinks this way. Finally, how much does it suck to want to show off "your city" to friends only to be treated as if neither of you should be here in the first place?
I've attained a comfort level here in Paris that I didn't think would be possible, for which I am very proud of myself, but being in London reminded me of how comfortable I could be, not only if French were my first language, but more generally if Parisians weren't so frequently unpleasant. I imagine part of my cynicism comes from jealousy - I'm beginning to think that it really is impossible to become Parisian. I can't help but hold something against a city which refuses to let me blend into its population. But how can I blend into a society which is partially, if tacitly, founded on a disdain for foreigners? Sometimes I feel like Paris is in a fight with itself. It's definitely one of the top tourist destinations in the world, yet there is a very strong undercurrent of tourist-hatred (which frequently surfaces). So, tons of restaurants, cafes, bars, bookstores, you-name-its have sprung up which cater pretty much exclusively to this ever-present and generally, though not always, transient population. (Why? Because it's just too hard/not permissible to assimilate.) Recognizing the difference between these two types of establishments, I've been exhausted by the endless search for "authentic" experiences and the eternal struggle to avoid tourist traps. However, I think the only real way to avoid them is...to be born French. Or Parisian? Then no matter what you do, you - by definition - cannot be a tourist. Hmm. Well, too late for that.
One last thing: a while ago one of my professors, who happens to be Russian by birth, told us that a colleague of hers recently congratulated her on her lack of foreign accent when speaking French. Katia has been living in Paris for over 20 years. She teaches French. Just think about that.
I apologize right now to anyone who is offended by this post. It was a sloppy attempt at expressing the frustrations I've been dealing with since day 1; I've already edited several times since first posting it and I hope that one day I will find a way to concisely explain exactly what displeases me. For now, feel free to make comments/suggestions/criticisms...

Though I stated above I am "ready to go home", a lot of that is probably due to the fact that I am indeed going home soon, and have therefore commenced mental and emotional preparations. I still want to make the most of the 23 days I have left in Europe. As I head into the home stretch, I'm sending out a plea to Paris: shove that ugly side in a placard in the bowels of the Louvre. Let me leave this place with only the best of my memories in mind. I'm not French. But that's not my fault.

I'll let you know how it goes.
--
Alina

PS. Photos:
Paris album (new photos start at the bottom of page 9 - click to the end to see the temporary "farm" they installed on the Champs-Elysees for an agriculture expo)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2029731&id=1529880222&l=5e91c8d49c

LONDON CALLING:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2041392&id=1529880222&l=e49be48b7e

Montpellier, Italy, Sara.

2010-05-03T12:06:00.008+02:00

Whew. Time is flying. This Thursday marks the t-6 weeks mark to my arrival back in the States. Ahhhhh!!!

Time went particularly fast these past two weeks because I was traveling. Most French students (from 3-year olds to college students) were on a two week "Easter" (really Spring) break these last two weeks. Perhaps you remember my last post in which I cursed a volcano in Iceland for preventing my parents from visiting me the first week of that vacation. A few days ago my friend Vicky, whose parents' trip also was cancelled, forwarded me this article claiming the ash cloud was nowhere near thick enough to merit all the airport closures, and stating that the ONE plane in the UK which is supposed to test conditions at times like these was being repainted and therefore couldn't be sent up for 5 days (which happens to be the duration of the ban...).
My parents took a little tour of the Texas hill country and went to Dallas (they live in Houston). They actually met some Europeans who were stranded in Texas (sounds like a movie plot); my dad told them that he and my mom had wanted to go to Paris, but Dallas was the second choice.

On Wednesday the 21st I hopped on a TGV (fast train) to Montpellier, a cute university-ish city in the south of France. I was accompanied by my Italian friend Simona, probably the easiest person to travel with EVER (because she's so laid-back).

She was nice enough to let me practice some Italian, especially on the crowded train (perhaps due in part to the air travel disaster, but mainly due to a train-company strike...of course...). I guess she'd rather put up with me butchering her language than put up with the strange looks of French people listening to us butcher theirs ;)
The first day in Montpellier was HOT (finally!) but we spent a lot of time walking around, checking out the city's monuments, the famous school of Medicine, and the beautiful Jardin des Plantes (Plant Garden? It just doesn't sound the same), of which there is also one in Paris. There are actually a lot of the "same things" in the two cities - an Arc de Triomphe, similar street names, but Montpellier had that laid-back, Austin-y vibe that's almost impossible to find in Paris. I read in the guidebook on the way there that one French person in three surveyed said he would like to live in Montpellier. It's population has doubled in the last 40 years (currently around 250,000 inhabitants, over 60 percent of which were not born in the region, and over 40 percent of which are less than 30 years old). It's the capital of its region (Languedoc-Roussillon) and, like Austin, is also a technology hub (IBM and Dell have offices here).

One of the in Montpellier "Tricks of the Eye"

My trip to Montpellier also marked my first experience with Couchsurfing. For those of you who haven't heard about it, couchsurfing is a project (in the form a website with many registered users, like facebook) started in the States; the name implies the basic idea: sleep on a friendly local's couch (or extra bed, or air mattress...) when visiting a city. Parents and the like, don't freak out just yet - okay, okay, this could be really dangerous, but the people at www.couchsurfing.org are obviously aware of this and have created many security measures, such as "verified members" whose identity and location has been checked, ways to "vouch for" people, and tons of references. If you're still not convinced that this might possibly sometimes maybe be an awesome thing to do...you've got a right to your opinion. But I was incredibly happy with the way things turned out. Simona and I first stayed with Jeff, a couchsurfing "ambassador" in the city (this means he's seriously involved in the project) - he met us in the center of town on his lunch break, and walked us back to his apartment, where he cooked a delicious lunch and provided us with all the information we would need to explore the city and discover some of the "local secrets". After lots of tourist activity, we returned to Jeff's that evening to make ratatouille!

Mmmm. Later we went to a bar to meet up with other couchsurfing fanatics for a monthly language meet-up they host (sort of like the French and Italian meet-ups in Houston; here there was lots of Italian, Spanish, and English being practiced). The second night we stayed in the apartment of several students who made sure to feed us well and take us out to some of their favorite places. On of them, Rostan, even accompanied Simona and me to his native town of Sete (about 20 minutes away by train) the next day, where we saw the beaches, tasted local cuisine (um, seafood!), and met his family! Rostan was obliged to stop about every 3 minutes as we walked around town to kiss the cheeks of old high school buddies and other friends. Thanks to couchsurfing, I definitely feel like Simona and I got the local perspective (of Montpellier and Sete!).
Check out my Montpellier photos here.

I had a 12-hour "layover" in Paris Friday night before heading to Italy Saturday morning. On the agenda: 2.5 days in Milan, 2 days in Parma, and 1.5 days in Bologna. Wow. This trip to Italy was definitely one of the best weeks of this entire year. In Milan I was oh-so-kindly hosted by my friend Stefania,

a Milan-native who studied in Paris last semester (and who loves it so much that she returns about once a month). She made sure that we conquered the main aspects of the city: the Duomo,

shopping,

and Brera, a ritzy, cute neighborhood which is home to the Pinacoteca di Brera, a fantastic museum housed in an old monastery. We also checked out the Parco Sempione and participated in the fabulous Milan tradition of aperitivo, which is technically the little snack you eat before dinner, but which, done Milan style, is basically a light dinner accompanied by cocktails (and followed, in our case, by gelato!). I also got to meet up with Antonio, a student at the Politecnico in Milan who studied for a semester in Austin for fall 2008. He said I was officially the first person from Austin he had seen since leaving. Yeehaw!

My main reason for going to Parma was to visit my high-school friend/counterpart Signorina Adelina Solis,

(she'll love me for posting this picture)

who is studying there this semester. But I of course took advantage of the visit to see some of the beautiful religious and cultural sites, including the Duomo,

a puppet museum, the Camera San Paolo, etc... Back in Houston last summer, Adelina and I frequented the Houston Italian Language Meet-up, although we would often end up grabbing a table for ourselves and conversing in Italian. When I arrived in Parma after three days of Italian conversation in Milan with Stefania, I just kept speaking it with Adelina. After a few minutes I asked if that was too weird, but she also preferred slightly slower but more challenging (and therefore beneficial) conversations. Yeehaw again! It was cool to meet the host family I've read so much about (in her blog) and show her the city through the eyes of a tourist. Adelina's program is already done and she leaves for a big Euro adventure tomorrow. Buon viaggio!

(she'll be as cultured as this little guy!! spotted walking into the Duomo.)

Finally, Bologna.

views/torre Asinelli

I know some Italian students who used to study at the (famous) university there, but they had all moved on, so I decided to try my luck with couchsurfing. Could I possibly have three incredible hosts in a row? Si!! I stayed with Cristian, a graduate of the Università di Bologna, and his housemates (two girls and another guy, also Bologna graduates). My adventure started when Cristian met me at the train station to take me to his place - via scooter! I guess I'm really lame, because I hadn't even been on a scooter and, perhaps like many Americans, mainly see them as dangerous and something that other people drive. When we got to his ride, I guess he saw the slight surprise on my face: "Problema?" Well...having a problema didn't seem like a very feasible/convenient option. I put my bags in the little trunk-thing, strapped on his extra helmet, and we were off! I was surprised at how secure you feel in what is actually not a very secured seat (obviously no seat-belt, etc). As he pulled off the curb I had a brief image of me flying off, but as we started going I was amazed at how smooth the ride was. Scooters are really popular in Paris (in Europe?) - my host-mom Laurence, who is nearing 60, just bought one - and being on one I started to really notice just how many of them there are on the road in Bologna as well (in Italy in general). I really liked getting around by scooter, and if anything ever happens to my car (she may be a Nissan, but she's also 14 years old), I might consider getting one...mom and dad, I wish I could see your expressions right now.
Cristian walked me around the center of town before we headed to a puppet-making workshop that was part of this association he's in. I obviously didn't have the supplies necessary, nor am I a paying-member of the group, but when they saw that I was merely helping Cristian with his, some of the girls in charge went searching for make-shift puppet material. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present Olivia (christened by one of Cristian's friends):

Afterwards we grabbed dinner with several members of the group, where we encountered MORE of Cristian's friends, who then accompanied us on a night-tour of the city (for my sake) and then to a couple bars. It was a hilarious, Italian-filled (and therefore sometimes hilariously confusing) night - I can't believe how welcoming everyone I met was.

The next day I got up early-ish to do some touristy stuff before meeting Cristian and yet another friend for lunch. My last act in Bologna? Gelato of course!

That brought my total up to 6. Then we scooted off to the airport and in no time I was back in Parigi...

flying over the Alps to get home

Just in time for Sara

(another American high school friend who's studying in London) to arrive Friday morning! So, more tourist activities, including the Tour Montparnasse, which I'd been wanting to check out. It now goes on my top three things to do with visitors in Paris, alongside the Sacre Coeur/Montmartre and the Pompidou (close fourth would be the Luxembourg Gardens...).

Click here for my Italy album.

And go to page 8 of this album to see the Luxembourg Gardens in bloom and some views from the only "skyscraper" in zone-one Paris.

Next up? Lots of studying and working, maybe a concert or two, and a final baseball game (to see my little Camille and his cousin Bertrand play with the elite team)...and Nicole, who gets in from Houston a week from Thursday. Ay yay yay! I better get moving!!

xoxo

Alina :)

cold-hearted Iceland (and warm weather at last).

2010-04-19T23:05:00.004+02:00

Hello all,

It's been a difficult couple of days - my parents were supposed to come visit me for a week starting Saturday the 17th. I know Texas is a long way from Europe, and from Iceland, but maybe you've heard some kind of rumor involving a volcano, clouds of ash, and millions of airline passengers stranded around the world. (If you've been living at Enchanted Rock for the past few days, read here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/20/world/europe/20ash.html?ref=world .)

Sadly, it's all true. When my parents booked their flight to Paris during my "Easter" break (the last two weeks of April, meaning now), I was thinking "oh good, it shouldn't be too cold!". I didn't think about the cloud of volcanic ash that has drifted over much of the European continent since Thursday, affecting airports in at least 33 countries, stranding 8 million passengers worldwide, and costing the aviation industry at least a billion dollars (if not closer to 2 billion). After five solid days of paralyzed traffic, many tied to the industry are clamoring for government "bail-outs" and considering emergency lay-offs. The volcanic event is obviously a force majeur, but that hasn't prevented harsh criticism of European governmental infrastructure which was slow to respond to the crisis and more or less neglected to run tests during its first 4 days. Instead, airlines such as Air France and Lufthansa, driven to desperation, ran test flights which resulted in no perceptible damage to aircraft, leading them to beg authorities to reconsider. That article I posted above is the latest in a line of many I've read - obviously this event has had a quite personal impact on my life, but in any case it's been very interesting to see it all play out. People are calling it the "worst weekend in travel industry history".

It's funny how quickly you get used to things. At the beginning of last week I was practically bouncing around the apartment in anticipation of my parents' visit. But on Thursday in class a mauvais sentiment came over me. I'm not going to say I'm psychic or anything...maybe I just had too much coffee? Anyway I went about my day, which included picking up the keys to the apartment my parents were renting and scheduling some rendez-vous to introduce them to various figures in my Parisian life. But when I got home there it was - a message from my mom talking about...volcanic ash clouds? What?

Parisian airports closed at 11PM last Thursday (that's 4PM your time, Texans) and have yet to reopen. My parents attempted to re-book and fly into Barcelona, but when I had trouble acquiring train tickets between there and Paris and when I woke up Saturday to news reports that the clouds were heading South, I phoned them - at 2AM their time - to have a little chat about the rationality of the whole trip. Canceling the whole trip was a hard decision to make, but it was definitely the right one. Throwing yourself willingly into the chaos that IS European travel at this moment is not wise and might even be considered selfish (think of all the people stranded *away* from home!). I just can't believe that what would have been my parents' first trip to Europe fell during the worst 5 days of travel history.
--
Think of something awesome you've anticipated for months. A visit from a loved one, graduation, a wedding, a concert...In the days just before the event actually happens, you think "oh my gosh, it's here! I can't believe it! It doesn't feel real!"
And then it ISN'T real!
Do you know what I mean? Well, I think a couple million people around the world do.
--
As you see from the article above, many airports should be open tomorrow morning and we can expect things to return to "normal" by Thursday...just in time for my trip to Italy on Saturday? In the meantime, partly to console myself, I'll be going to Montpellier (!) Wednesday-Friday with my Italian friend Simona. We're going by train - there's a strike, but from what I understand it shouldn't affect the train I bought tickets for. I haven't yet dared to aborder the question of the French grève, maybe for another post...or a book...

Otherwise, my life lately has been quite the opposite of cloudy. Spring has finally decided to stick around, knock on wood, and I've been taking every chance I get to be outside. Last weekend I went "row-boating" (is there a verb for this?) on the Lac Daumesnil in the Bois de Vincennes just south/east of the 20 arrondissements. A beautiful day with my friends Zina and Sandra:

The next day Zina, Sandra, and I met up with Andrea, Emilia, and Catherine for a lovely afternoon in the GORGEOUS Park Buttes-Chaumont:

I also had the *amazing* opportunity to see Il Piccolo Teatro di Milano's production of Goldoni's Trilogia della Villeggiatura (I think in English it's called "Living on Credit"), this playwright's response to Venetian culture of the late 18th century, which he deemed "excessive" and consumeristic. The play was directed by Toni Servillo, a renowned Italian director and actor, who also played the role of the "scrouge" Ferdinando. Servillo's antics were well balanced by the solid acting of Anna Della Rosa, a relative newbie in Italy's acting scene who brought a lot of emphasis to the dilemma of the play's central character, Giacinta, who finds herself caught between "true love" and societal responsibility. I saw the play with my Italian Lit. class, a revelatory experience in itself - the fact that we weren't at school led my fellow classmates to ask me questions they'd "always wanted to ask" (like why I started studying Italian, etc) and to profess their adoration for my anglophone accent (when I speak Italian, although it's *definitely* there when I speak French as well!). It's sort of aggravating that it's taken them this long to open up a bit, but that's how it is. They are the same with each other! Anyway it was a great soirée.

I managed to make this past weekend a good one despite a couple hours of wallowing in self-pity. I went to a fancy invitation-only house concert to see some live music, including this artist, who is the most adorable person you will ever see play live:

http://www.myspace.com/alexawoodward

Sunday: the best falafel in the world (or at least Paris - Lenny Kravitz, among other celebrities agrees!), Place des Vosges with about a thousand other Parisians, and the best gelato in Paris, at least according to Claire's Tahitian roommate Jenn:

That's the news from this side of the air-traffic ban. Thanks for all your support and sympathy in the last few days. It's pretty heart-breaking that my parents weren't able to come, but at least they didn't get stranded somewhere! We'll just have to take on Europe together another time :)

Keep in touch,

Alina :)

Dialogo sopra i due massimi sistemi universitari

2010-04-09T18:21:00.004+02:00

Sometimes people ask me some variation of the question "what's your school like?".
I will henceforth direct them to this post.

**What follows are observations, not judgements. If you by chance detect irony, sarcasm, or criticism, just remember that it brings me one step closer to many French students I know who never cease to complain about their universities.**

Let me tell you about the Italian department at the University of Paris III - The Sorbonne Nouvelle.
First of all, the department is not located in the same building as most of Paris III. It is located just down the street on the other side of an apartment complex. Just a two-minute walk, though, which is more than I can say for the German department of Paris III, which is not located in Paris.
The Italian department of Paris III is located on the fifth floor of what must be one of the ugliest buildings in the city, with thick brick-sized windows cut in an irregular pattern on the top two floors. The department is accessed via a mysteriously wide stairway or an elevator (which you can reach only by a different entrance) whose control panel looks like this:

Exit the elevator and you find yourself in a small room with plastic walls (what are those called?), linoleum floors, and a column in the center. The only hint that you're close is the long lists of grades taped up on the wall to your right. The place is dark (lights that turn themselves off and which I never bother to turn on) save the tiny rays of sunlight that might be streaming in through about 6 of those brick windows cut randomly into the left-hand exterior wall. Make a u-turn to the left and head down a long hallway. Again, signs with arrows urging you forward are the only indication that you're not in another dimension. Turn left and walk down three stairs and a shorter hallway before you get to an unmarked-door that is, as it turns out, the Italian Department (which is also the Romanian department, but nevermind about that).

The department is composed of approximately 8 rooms: bathroom (one sink, two stalls - one men, one women), teacher's lounge (with an annoying code-lock which you'll read about later), the director's office, the secretariat (department secretary), the Salle Polyvalente (the only classroom in the department), two spaces that I'll call "anterooms" which connect the various other ones, and the library, which is technically composed of 5 "spaces", indicated by an arrangement of shelves or a partial wall - "the library", "the reading room", the librarian's office, plus a corner divided from the rest by a free-standing screen, behind which you'll find everything necessary to watch a movie, and a trapezoid-shaped office that seems to have been built off of one of the walls and which I assume to be the vice-director's space.

Most department classes are held in Paris III's main building down the street, but my 8:00 AM Monday morning class last semester was held in the Salle Polyvalente. The room is at least three times as long as it is wide, with 2-foot tall windows lining the entire periphery of the two exterior walls. There is ragged netting strung up outside all department windows. There is one small heater in the Salle Polyvalente which has usually been left off all weekend (and Texans, no matter how cold your winter was, ours was colder). The Salle Polyvalente is connected to the rest of the department only by a small door at the back of the room which leads to the bowels of the secretariat. You're supposed to use another door across the landing to get to the other rooms, but when this second door was locked even after its appointed hour of opening on Monday mornings and our professor needed to grab a book from the library or access the photocopier found in the second anteroom, she would hammer on the door at the back of the Salle Polyvalente until the department secretary emerged, dreary-eyed and somehow always surprised to see who it was. Other than desks and a blackboard, there is a computer which I have never seen used and several file cabinets which may or may not contain something.

The secretariat of the Department of Italian at the University of Paris III is open two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. It is closed Wednesdays and Fridays. During peak periods such as "registration" - current college students in America, whatever images this term provokes in your heads, imagine something 50 times less organized than that, and you're probably right on target...Anyway during peak periods it is sometimes possible to see the secretary who to my knowledge is always in her office whether it is one of the indicated six hours of the week when she should receive you with open arms or not. I've only met her twice, once in September when I was attempting to register for classes and she had me fill out extensive paperwork and write a letter of intent (in French of course, and on the spot) to enroll in classes (both of which, I was later informed by the director, were unnecessary), and another time when I convinced her (with some difficulty) to open the teachers' lounge so that I could put an assignment in one of the teachers' boxes. Let it be noted that was the third trip I had made to the department over the course of a week: the other two times the teachers' lounge was locked, the department was a ghost-town, and the secretary wasn't answering her door. I know she was there.

The library, definitely the heart-beat of the department, is open from Monday to Friday 9 AM to 6 PM. If you are one of the lame stragglers still there when 5:50 rolls around, you must clearly indicate - usually by glancing at the clock overhead - that you are aware of the time and by 5:54 you must be finishing the last sentence of the last paragraph and demonstrating full willingness to return your book to the shelf within the next 30 seconds, lest you suffer the wrath of the grumpy librarian (there is also a nice one, although I have inferred that Grumpy is in charge) who is definitely foreign and presumably Italian (or Romanian?). I once made the mistake of attempting to stay until 5:58 and Grumpy hasn't liked me since.

At mid-day the library is a-buzz, usually with the chatter of several students who take no notice of the sign out front which reads "Nous vous prions de respecter le SILENCE" and circle up around one of the larger tables to "study", an annoyance excused only by the fact that there really is no other place for them to meet. The only other regular noise is the high-pitched whine of the security posts at the door to the library; unfortunately the photocopier is located outside these doors, and the librarians are so habituated to the alarm by now that I'm sure stealing books would not be a problem. The photocopier is in that second anteroom, where there is also a small table surrounded by bulletin boards covered in posters for events, most of which have already passed, books which have come out sometime in the last year, course schedules which were put up the day before classes started, etc. A couple months ago I noticed a petition asking for signatures in support of a Turkish (?) student who had been too sick to renew his student visa and had been deported in the middle of the school year. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays I usually lunch at this table amidst these bulletin boards, accompanied only by a flickering light overhead.

As I did this last Wednesday I took a look around. My first thought: it's amazing how fast we adapt. My second: I'm going to appreciate being back at UT.

Are the differences somewhat artificial? Yes. Does learning still happen here? Absolutely. But...

University tuition in France: negligible

University tuition in the States: not so much.

Not having to consult your watch, your calendar, and possibly the phases of the moon to be granted a hearing with the department secretary: ...priceless (?)

A Tale of Three Cities

2010-04-04T01:39:00.003+02:00

Hey gang! Sorry for yet another irregular pause. It's mid-term time here in Paris, but I've been voyaging quite a bit as well. Check out photos from:

Lyon

Chartres (starts on page 7 of this Daytrips album - remember this from last semester?)

Chantilly (back by popular demand...Daytrips album numéro deux !)

-tidbits -
I went to Lyon with my friend Pauline who did an exchange in Austin last year and lived with me at Halstead. We stayed with her family, who actually live in Irigny, just outside Lyon. She has a big family - 2 brothers and 2 sisters, and like many French young adults, they all live at home (except Pauline of course, who lives in Paris with her boyfriend Mamadou). I would say the frenchiest thing about them was the way breakfast was conducted. Each night just before bed, Pauline's mom sets up the long kitchen table with several jars of jam, as well as different breads, pastries, cookies, and chocolate in at least two forms: Nutella and various powdered chocolates to which they add heated milk (made, I'm guessing, by the earliest riser and kept warm in a thermos as the rest of *us* straggle into the cuisine). Don't worry, there's coffee too. I also experienced for the second time recently the French tradition of not using plates at breakfast. But croissants make crumbs! Simple solution = shake out the table cloth after everyone has eaten. Laurence doesn't do this in Paris, for a few reasons I suppose, one being that she and Camille usually eat breakfast in the salon while watching the news, the second being the fear of shaking your breakfast crumbs onto some poor passerby's unsuspecting head. I don't have any memories of Parisians shaking tablecloths at their windows in the morning, but from now on I'll pay closer attention.
Pauline's mom prepared a few lyonnais dishes, such as the blanquette de veau (which is also what Maurice prepared for Laurence's birthday last fall) and canelles. As Julien, Pauline's youngest brother explained to me, at least half of all French dishes are actually Lyonnais. It is supposed to be the gastronomy capital of France!! :)
We ventured into the city twice during our weekend trip, once to hit all the main sights and again the next day for lunch with some of Pauline's friends. The main sites:
-the pedestrian rue Victor Hugo, which leads to the
-Place Bellecour, the largest pedestrian "place" in Europe, connected also to the
-Avenue de la République, which took us to the
-Opéra and also to the famous
-Hôtel de Ville (mayor's place) of Lyon.
There's a fountain made by Bartoldi (which was originally destined for Bordeaux, but that's another story...). Lyon also has a replica of the third floor of the Eiffel Tower. Mamadou, a native Parisian, enjoyed chastising Pauline about this.
We also saw the vieux quartier of Lyon and took the furnicular up to the sommet of hill, where we saw the Basilique de Nôtre-Dame de Fourvière, dedicated to the Virgin Mary. There's been a monument to the Virgin there since the 12th century, but the church which stands there now was mostly constructed in the 19th century after she (according to the catholic faith) saved Lyon from the plague. I have to say that this was one of my favorite churches yet. Being more modern than most famous cathedrals, the style is very different, (but not "modern", more like baroque/classical, which is chronologically more modern than Gothic...) and I really liked the colors and the (very) fanciful decoration of the sanctuary. When upon returning I told Maurice that I had seen the Fourvière, he had a somewhat different reaction: "Qu'est-ce que c'est moche !!" (It's so ugly!). I will admit that it's a pretty girly structure. I find that fitting, however, since it was constructed to honor one very worshipped woman...
Merci beaucoup, Pauline et Mamadou, de m'avoir invitée ! Je me suis très bien amusée :)

Chartres - After a long hiatus, I decided to take advantage of this long Easter weekend to continue my daytrips. Yesterday (Friday) my friend Zina and I ventured out to Chartres, which is about an hour (by train) south/west of Paris. Though the weather was fickle (normale), I really enjoyed this trip. Chartres' main draw is it's cathedral, which dates to the 12th century and is considered the best-preserved medieval church in Europe, having miraculously escaped major damage during the Revolution and WWII. It's mix of Romanesque and Gothic is quite easily observable thanks to the two towers (looking at the cathedral, the one on the left is Gothic, and the one on the right is Romanesque). Chartres became a celebrity of the religious world when Charlemagne's grandson gave the town the Sancta Camisia, the cloth believed to have been worn by the Virgin Mary when she gave birth to Christ. The Cathedral is also known for it's remarkable stained glass, which are characterized by the color now known as "Chartres blue" - it hasn't been reproduced in modern times. Finally, the last highlight is the labyrinth which is carved into the floor in the nave of the church. The labyrinth was designed - in the 13th century - as a substitute for a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Those wishing to make a symbolic journey there could go through the maze on their hands and knees. I couldn't get a good picture, but you can look for photos of the labyrinth (and the cathedral in general) online - I recommend it. Don't forget to check out my photos, too (see the link at the beginning of this post).

Today, sadly another day of moche weather, I made the short journey to Chantilly, located about 30 minutes North of Paris, with 4 other american students. Chantilly is the French word for whipped cream, and this is the town where it was supposedly invented. But Chantilly (the town) is mainly known for its fabulous chateau, which houses the Musée Condé, and it's passion for all things equestrian. Next to the chateau is a huge stable-house, built by Louis Henri Bourbon who hoped to live there after he was reincarnated as a horse. Uh huh. The stables are as fabulous as you would imagine them to be based on this fact. We concluded the day with some chantilly in Chantilly!

Time continues to fly and we'll see if I get another post in before my parents come in two weeks (and before I go to Italy at the end of April). Let's hope there will be enough exciting things going on to merit one. In the meantime I'd like to thank everyone for the continued readership, support, and feedback. Don't forget to shoot me a message about any thoughts you've got goin' on grace à (thanks to) my blogging. You can reach me on here, on facebook, or at alinaslavik@mail.utexas.edu

And if you don't send me a message, at least send some of that sunshine and heat my way!

Happy Easter everyone,

Alina :)

ça fait longtemps !

2010-03-22T10:32:00.004+01:00

Howdy y'all! Whew, it's been a while. But for the record, I warned you that might happen...for three reasons:

1) I turned 21! And celebrated at least three times. And therefore did not have a lot of extra time to write a blog post that week.
2) I was in Ireland!
3) AlliSON was here!

So I'd better get started...

1) My birthday week was busy but fantastic. It started early with a visit from my long-time friend Laura, who's studying in Italy this semester. She came for the weekend of the 19th/20th, and I had a great time (re)discovering Paris with her. There are photos of our adventures on pages 3 and 4 of this album.
I treated myself to some beauty products (perfume, cosmetics...) and a trip to the hair salon, my first haircut since being here. The hairstylist was really friendly and although we had a few difficulties with communication, I am thoroughly satisfied with the haircut. The difficulties we had were mainly caused by those subtleties that hairstylists, etc. tend to use, as in: "Would you like me to put an after-rinse cream on your hair?" which really means, "Would you like to spend four additional euros on a good-smelling something with debatable effects for your hair?" Or, "Would you like a "natural drying" for your hair or a "brushing?" which actually implies "I will spend at least 30 minutes drying/curling/styling your hair (in my case) in exchange for ten additional euros". I opted out of the cream, but I went ahead and got my hair "brushed" at the end of the cut. She really earned that extra ten euros as she dried my hair layer by layer with a huge curling brush, applying hairspray after each section. By the time she was done, there were at least three clients waiting rather impatiently...
I celebrated Tuesday night at a pub I'd been wanting to try with a lot of my American friends, mostly from MICEFA. Click here to check out the pub, which is called the Frog and Princess and is one of a chain of "Frog" pubs in France. I tried the Ginger Twist beer and the Maison Blanche (White House) - not bad!
Thursday night my friends Zina, Sandra, and Stefania were nice enough to let me host a little birthday celebration at their place. We had a nice turnout and enjoyed snacks and wine/champagne (expensive but necessary) before heading to a club to dance the night away! I had a great time :)
Here's a link to the photo album with my birthday photos. The ones from the pub and Zina's place start on page 2. Tequila shots abound!

Unfortunately my birthday week coincided with some sad developments in my social life - my german friend Anja AND my italian friend Stefania left Paris that weekend to head back to their respective countries. That and the fact that I recently bought my plane ticket home (for June 17th!) sort of makes me feel like my Parisian séjour is already drawing to a close. I had wanted to stay in Paris until the end of July, but financially that is not a smart decision. In any case I am officially on the downhill side of my year abroad, a truly bittersweet thought with too many implications for me to get into right now...

Anyway! The cherry on top of my birthday week was that I finally made it to a show at the Opéra Garnier! Anja gave me tickets that she wasn't going to use for L'Atelier du chant, literally the "workshop of the song", which is the Opéra Nationale de Paris's equivalent of the Houston Grand Opera Studio (you can click that). Basically they choose young singers who are in between grad school and a stable career to come work with their coaches, pianists, etc. and to perform in the company's productions that season. My senior year of high school, I participated in a program called the Houston Grand Opera High School Voice Studio, which is modeled off of the "real" studio but serves high school seniors to prepare them for their university auditions. As much as I love opera, I also love "recitals" (where only arias or scenes from operas are performed - so you get the real "jewels" from several larger works), and this one, like all of them, definitely brought back good memories. AND it was in the Opera Garnier! You can click here for photos - go to the 5th page :)

2) And the Saturday after my birthday I left for Ireland!
I visited Ennis (the Shannon), Galway, and the Aran Islands with four other American girls from the MICEFA. We got into Ennis late Saturday night and spent Sunday morning exploring it before heading to Galway in the afternoon. I thought Ennis was so charming, and then I realized it's probably just a typical little Irish town that would get boring after much more than a day. I guess it's a good thing we left before that happened! Galway is considerably bigger and is apparently a bit of a university town. It's also a port/coast town so we had a good time walking by the water. We went to the biggest of the Aran Islands on Monday, about a 1.5 hour journey each way from Galway by bus and ferry. The travel time was worth it, though, as we got to spend almost the entire day biking around the island. We stopped for lunch by an old lighthouse and guardpost before heading on to visit a HUGE (huge) "Celtic fort", which to my memory is the oldest one remaining, or something like that. We took pictures standing on the edge of the cliffs and basked in the sun of that beautiful day. I would say that's the farthest I've felt from the "city mindset" in, well, a while.
On Tuesday we caught a train to Dublin, where I separated from the rest of the group to hang out with my friend Vicky, who I've known since high school. Vicky is studying in Dublin this semester and she was awesome enough to let me stay with her, even after she left for Malta (!) on Wednesday afternoon. I had a fantastic time catching up with her and exploring "her" Dublin. After she left on Wednesday, I spent the evening cuddled up with an Irish coffee and James Joyce's The Dubliners, which I figured would be a good way to read Joyce, especially considering I've heard Ulysses declared "unreadable" more than a few times. I find that going to an author's birthplace/homeland can be a real motivation to read him/her; obviously Joyce is famous outside Ireland, but after sooo many Joyce references in Dublin I felt obliged to buy a book for the plane. I felt similarly about Milan Kundera after leaving the Czech republic. I spent thursday afternoon wandering museums and the city in general before catching my late-afternoon plane. I particularly enjoyed the rooms dedicated to Jack B. Yeats (W.B.'s brother) in the National Gallery:

That Grand Conversation was Under the Rose

Of course, Picasso was there too:

Still Life with a Mandolin and Guitar

I liked this piece by Paul Signac:

Woman on the Terrace (it's actually his wife)

...and some others for which I probably should have made note of the artists and not simply the title. One of them was called Stella in a Flowered Hat - I agree with this guy, it's a pretty good name for a painting.

Another highlight of my museum hopping was definitely the Francis Bacon exhibition at the Dublin City Gallery. After Bacon died, his surviving family offered his tiny London studio to the Tate Gallery. The idea was to construct an exact replica, using the original materials when possible, of his studio (as he left it) in the museum. The Tate didn't refuse but didn't really agree either, and after months/years of delays, said family decided the Dublin City Gallery, in the city of Bacon's birth, might be a more gracious host for the exhibition. I didn't know much about Bacon before going but I really enjoyed discovering his work, his life, his personality in this way. They had a great interview playing at the start of the exhibit which demonstrated how wacky but interesting he really was. The studio was tiny and a complete mess, but he chose to keep it even when he had the funds to do otherwise. He was allergic, but that didn't prevent him from allowing layers of dust to settle over everything in the room. I wouldn't say I'm a huge fan of Bacon's actual oeuvre, but learning about the artist through the extensive exhibit definitely helped me understand him. The analysis of his work and the stages it went through would thrill most people who know something about creating visual art. Click here to learn more about Bacon.

Perhaps you're wondering if I was lonely exploring Dublin all by myself after splitting with the girls and seeing Vicky off to Malta. But I wasn't alone! Let me introduce you to François, a roaming-gnome sent to me from the faraway land of Houston by my friend Nicole:

François explores Ennis

Here he is in Merrion Square Park (Dublin)

He's pretty stoic, which on the upside means I'll never have to endure his endless banter (he may have to put up with mine, however) - and above all, a very faithful (and portable) traveling companion!

3) I got back to Paris on Thursday the 4th and had a day to catch up on everything before my friend Allison arrived on the 6th! Allison and I have known each other since the very first day of high school, where we were both voice majors. We were supernumerary ninjas together in Houston Grand Opera's Spring 2005 production of Turandot (Puccini), and we also both participated in the above-mentioned HGO High School Voice Studio. She's now a voice major at SMU, and came to visit me for her Spring Break :)

She charmed Laurence and co. with a tin of Texas Pecans, and she gave me a very good excuse to return to tourist mode in my beloved (temporary) city. We hit up the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe on day 1, followed by 4 museums the following day, which luckily for us was the first Sunday of the month, meaning they were all free. Unfortunately she was on her own during much of the week, as I had class and work as usual, but I got the impression that she had a good time anyway. She said her Tuesday trip to Versailles was a definite highlight. Other than that, I organized lots of soirées with friends, and we ended the week with an oh-so-romantic dinner at Gallopin, which had been recommended to her by a family friend.

Our adventures merit their own album, so here it is.

Oof! I'll leave you with that. It's a Monday morning and I'm back to the grind, the "study" part in "study abroad". Congratulations if you've made it this far in the post, and thank you, as always, for your love/support/readership. I'll be seeing you (in June!)!

Infinite x's and o's,

Alina :)

Birthday # 1, busyness

2010-02-18T23:28:00.010+01:00

Pompidou Center 7 Feb 2010

Sign that you haven't lived in the US for a while:

You call your bank in the States; the teller asks for your social security number for "security reasons," just like they always do. The question shocks you and a wave of panic ensues before you are able to reach back far enough into your brain to prove that you are you. Whew! Close one.
--
We celebrated my birthday (early) at the apartment on Saturday evening. Laurence invited all the usual suspects, and in the end the attendees were myself, Laurence, Camille, Maurice, Hélène (Laurence's daughter), Jean-Phillip (her husband), Athina (their daughter), David (Laurence's son), Guillaume (Laurence's nephew), Sylvie (his wife), Adelaide (their daughter), Bertrand, and Eric (Laurence's nephews). The lasagna dinner was relatively simple but delicious as always and of course followed by salad, then the cheeses. Champagne, wine, and Hurricane cocktails (a gift from last year's American) flowed freely and we enjoyed not one but TWO chocolate cakes (Camille and Hélène had a bake-off) then the coffee as usual. Once we get to the table at these dinners everything becomes Maurice's responsibility and there are times when he clearly wishes this was not the case. At the end of the dinner he asked who wanted coffee and at least 8 hands went up. "Alright, who wants a decaf?" 3 hands. "I'll do the decafs." Good thing I was one of those hands! (Maurice also *happens* to drink decaf.)

Guillaume and Sylvie brought Laurence and me beautiful rose bouquets, and I also received tulips from Eric and Bertrand. Other gifts included a purse from Laurence (which is, as Maurice pointed out, for girly girls, a title I've never bestowed upon myself but is a concensus people come to no matter where I live), a book (in French) of Paris's covered passages which will be useful for rainy days, a body scrub (L'Occitane en Provence, duh), and FRENCH (not English) breakfast tea from Mariage Frères.

The evening was definitely a success, although I am still intimidated in those group social situations. Being the guest of honor probably added a bit of pressure, too. But the family is so lovely that I'm already looking forward to celebrating Camille's birthday with them in April. In other news, he's started working towards his driving license. Learning to drive in Paris, wow. Just...wow. Et bon courage!

Luxembourg Gardens - sun and snow! - 14 Feb. 2010

On Sunday Anja and I went to check out a marionettes show in the Luxembourg Gardens. We were among very few child-less adults there, but it was my first marionette show in France, possibly my first ever, and I loved it. The plot was less-than-enthralling, but hearing the marionettes use all those classic French expressions and hearing all the kids react was - oh no! this word is infiltrating my blog posts these days - ADORABLE!!

Other than that, just a busybusybusy week. I'm currently working on leasing a house in Austin with my friend Colleen next year; I also orchestrated the rental of an apartment for my parents when they come here in April, scholarship (application) season is here again, and when I'm not doing those things, there's always that thing called school to occupy my time. BUT my friend Laura, who's currently studying in Italy, is coming in tomorrow for the weekend :) After she leaves it's officially my birthday week (Thursday being the day), THEN on the 27th I fly to Ireland to see Shannon, Galway, and Dublin (where my friend Vicky is studying). I get back Thursday the 4th and my friend Allison comes for a week on the 6th. Whew!
At this time next week I'll be partying with the Italians and company, so I can't promise you a post before Ireland, or the next Thursday when I'll be on my way back to Paris, or the Thursday after when Allison is here...but at some point, I'll be in touch. Guess I'd better get strapped in, the semester appears to be taking off.

xoxo
Alina :)

PS. Click here for my second Promenades album, which includes Pantheon photos. I guess you also know you've been living in Paris a while when the Pantheon takes a backseat to everything else in your blog post.

This album has more Pompidou photos and a couple more from my birthday.

Eh oui.

2010-02-11T21:57:00.006+01:00

First week of classes down...lots to go.

It's definitely been a week of ups and downs. Or, more accurately, it went from down to up!

I dined with a big group of Frenchies over the weekend to celebrate a friend's birthday and ended up sitting next to most likely the most closed-minded person there. Lucky me! He started out with the usual insult of my home state, managed to blame George W. Bush's presidency on me, asked me what I thought of Obama, couldn't believe it when I replied mostly positively (he literally thought I had misunderstood the question), then threw out any criticism I brought up of our current president (I'm not completely naive) because I'm from Texas, so clearly any criticism I have is due to the fact that I came out of the womb a die-hard Republican. Regardless of YOUR political opinions, I'm sure you'll agree that these actions and the attitude behind them are incredibly narrow-minded and just plain rude: since when is it socially acceptable to bring up politics two seconds after meeting someone? Sadly, it's not the first time I've found myself in that situation. Defending your birthplace gets old after a while. I mean, I didn't CHOOSE to be born in Texas...but just for the record, it's the best state. EVER. Cold-hard objectivity right there.

A few similar (but thankfully shorter - we were at dinner for 3 hours. Did I mention he insisted on speaking really awful English to me?) occurrences came up in the next couple days and by Monday afternoon I was really wondering when I would encounter someone who knows the difference between a stereotype and a real-live individual. Luckily the merde-storm seems to have passed - probably around 11AM Tuesday, when my new French cinema professor basically reprimanded the French students - in class - for not being more welcoming to foreigners. HA! I will admit that she was being a little harsh on them, but it was a pretty nice surprise to have a professor reach out to me regarding a topic which had just recently come to a boiling point in my mind.
Then, Tuesday night, I went to a mixer hosted by the Texas Exes France chapter for UT students here this semester and a few parisian students who want to study abroad there next year. It was so refreshing - and ironic - to meet these French students who were pretty much the polar opposite of the *charming* boy who had put me in such an awful mood just a couple days before.

I'm in yoga on Wednesday mornings again this semester, which I'm really happy about. It was good to see the teacher again and nice to know what I was doing in a class of slightly-terrified students, most of whom had never practiced before. I also may end up making some new friends in the class :)

I mentioned that I want to be sure to take better advantage of the performing arts scene here in Paris this semester. With that in mind, I walked over to the Opera Bastille today to inquire about getting student/youth tickets for La Sonnambula by Bellini which is currently playing. Results: Tomorrow is sold out. Next Monday is sold out. Next Thursday is sold out. It's ALL sold out! Every time I've been in Manhattan, I've gotten same-day tickets, and yes for the Metropolitan Opera as well. What's the deal here? More people? Less space? More interest? Regardless, I clearly need to plan a little farther ahead; I am determined not to leave without having seen something at Opera Garnier (ballet) and the Bastille (opera).

This evening I taught English to Foucauld and Félix, two brothers who live just down the street. They're 13 and 16, but they might as well be the same age - funny how that works. If anything, Foucauld, the 13 year old, is the responsible one - whenever I text them both to confirm our next meeting, it's always Foucauld who responds. Once I asked Félix about it and he said he just doesn't respond to text messages. I think that was some kind of communication break-down - his english is lower-intermediate. Or maybe he really doesn't ever respond to text messages. We get along pretty well, so I don't think he simply dislikes his English tutor. The family as a whole is pretty eccentric for reasons I can't really pin down. They have a dog named Tabasco, a cat named Mojito, and a fish named Choucroute (sauerkraut), and that's part of it. Their furniture is really modern and today we sat at Foucauld's "desk", which requires the user to sit on the floor. When the mom first called me (because she'd seen an ad I put up in the boulangerie downstairs), she asked if I'd ever taught English before. I said no and this answer didn't seem to phase her in the least. Four months later, here we are.
Tonight while seated (on the floor) in front of Foucauld's homework, we encountered a problem tracking down a certain person that he was supposed to be researching and writing a brief biography of. Nothing was coming up in google searches, so he hopped on facebook, messaged a couple of his classmates who were also online, and within a couple minutes we realized that he had incorrectly recorded her name. I'm no technology-challenged baby-boomer - I pretty much "grew up" with the internet too - but there's something adorable about a 13 year old french kid with a wafro (an "afro" hairstyle on a white person, I'm sorry if that's not politically correct) getting on facebook, using (French) computer slang with his school buddies. He pointed out that we're not facebook friends, and the situation has been remedied.
More generally, I think anyone would be struck by the independence, which I often find - here's the word again - "adorable" - of parisian pre-teens (and teens). Early one morning I scanned into the metro right next to Foucauld, who was off to school. And it's not unusual to see children even younger than him on there. The younger ones usually aren't alone although I'd say 12 or 13ish seems to be the age when that becomes acceptable to the parents. Two other girls who I teach - Justine, who's 11, and Fanny, who's 8 - have cell phones and email addresses. Ohlàlà!

Tonight Foucauld and Félix's mom said she thinks my French has gotten much better, which is always nice to hear. It's definitely true that I'm much more comfortable in the language and even in the country itself (meaning France, not ruralness). I still have a minor heart attack every time I go to the grocery store because I sense that the people in line behind me are ready to attack at the smallest sign of delay, which is more or less true, but I'm no longer shy about not knowing vocabulary and I no longer strive to end transactions as quickly as possible if that means that I still have questions (i.e. inquiring about tickets at the opera today). I'm generally no longer afraid to make or receive phone calls, which I think anyone who has lived abroad can relate to. Overall, I am looking forward to another semester of all kinds of growth (academic, lingual, intellectual, artistic...pretty much every kind except physical). This post started out with a rant, but as you can tell from the rest of it, Paris and its inhabitants continue to charm me *almost* every time that I walk out the door. Even better, spring is on the way...eventually.

Until next time,
Alina :)

PS. For my Intercultural Analysis class, I was asked to submit some images representing some general terms:

Francité (Frenchness):

It seems like a lot of people associate France with elegance and beauty. The photo has sort of a double-meaning because I took it in the Salle des Séances at the National Assembly.

Paris:

Crowded, busy, a mix of foreigners, tourists, and locals, a mix of old and new (the buildings, the shops)...and lots of black. hah, I hadn't thought about that before just now.

Parisiens:

It's easy to feel humbled (and just plain small) by this city.

Américanité (Americanness):

This is my Italian friend Antonio pretending to play guitar in the Halstead kitchen last year. So many people, perhaps especially the French (?), associate the US with "Rock and Roll!" I think the fact that he's Italian and wearing a burnt-orange UT shirt (hook 'em!) adds something to it.

Berlin and Prague between semesters.

2010-02-04T23:10:00.008+01:00

Salut !

Sorry that last week's post fell by the wayside. "Posting day" has gradually slipped from Sunday to Wednesday (and now Thursday, apparently), and last Wednesday I was too busy looking at 4AM bus routes to the airport to write a post about the incredibly [boring/awful/tedious/almost any negative adjective works here] week before, when I pretty much studied for a week straight, mainly for ONE final in Italian Literature. Mon dieu ! I was anticipating being the happiest girl on the planet at noon on Wednesday, but I walked out the exam with my head spinning and completely unsure about my grade. Still unsure. At least it's OVER!

And then it was off to Berlin and Prague :)

I went with my friend Andy, who is also a UT student doing the MICEFA exchange this year. We caught a bus to Orly airport around 4AM (!), I spent the 1h30 plane ride scouring the guide book I checked out at the library, and we were at the hostel by 9:00ish.
Well, Berlin. Am I allowed to simply state that I loved it? Suffice to say that I'll definitely be back, and it might even be cool to try to work in a hostel there one summer. I guess I would have to learn some German first though...it sounds so cool but there are so many letters! Anyway:

Best Way to Start the Day: Breakfast at Memory Cafe, just down the street from our hostel. We ate there all three mornings. Usually when people tell me they went to the same eatery three times while visiting a city I wonder why they didn't try to go anywhere else. Then I tasted the Yogurt/Muesli/Fresh Fruit at Memory, and I understood.
Most Beautiful Site: The Charlottenburg Castle grounds. A frozen, powdery-snow-covered winter wonderland. A couple people attempted to cross-country ski while children screamed with delight as their parents set them off sledding down the hills. The sun started to set just as we got to one side of the park and I snapped some pretty shots of that and the full moon that succeeded it.

Best Neighborhoods: Prenzlauer Berg (hip, and not hipster):

Scheunenviertel (shopping/galleries/cuteness!):

Biggest Annoyance - Inaccurate 3-year-old guide book. Berlin changes fast, and apparently that includes the names of metro stops.
Best surprise: The Reichstag at night. It's an old government building (finished in 1894) but they've recently added this super awesome spiral dome at the top. It's FREE and open 'til midnight every night (which, let me tell you, is pretty unheard of for a site like this. It could also explain why the staff were some of the grumpiest people I've ever encountered). You get a free audio guide (available in several languages) which guides you up the walkway; a new description starts every time you pass a little grey panel on the floor. So the guide doesn't get ahead of you or hold you back. And some of the German congress were having a meeting in the big hall just below the dome!

Thing That Made Me Think of Austin/America: all the coffee shops! Everywhere! And coffee to go! And "real" coffee instead of teeny tiny cups of espresso! Andy and I, both former Starbucks employees, were ecstatic :)
Biggest Disappointment: The fact that is was much too cold for "Biergarten"s. Next time!
Best Place to Pose for Photos: The East Side Gallery, the biggest surviving piece of the wall which has now been turned in to one long documentation of life after November 1989.

Thing That Kept Surprising Me: The scale of everything. The size of the buildings AND the vast spaces in between all of them.

Best Thing To Do When Your Boots are Soaked from Walking in Snow and You Haven't Felt Your Toes for Hours: Catch a movie ("New York, I Love You") at the Sony Center. There were absolutely no sub-titles, even though the film is in English and there was a scene in French and a few lines of Korean. We understood everything except the Korean.
Best Meal to Grab While Waiting for Said Film to Start: A "Texas BBQ Burger" with a Berliner Pilsener. Drink. Devour. Wish there were more jalepeños. (Don't worry, we ate plenty of German cuisine, as well. Curryworst remains a favorite.)

And finally (I know you're getting sick of this game)...

Best Place to See a Kick-ass (Orchestra) Concert: The amazing Philharmonie, where we saw the Berlin Philharmonic play on Friday night. 8 euros per ticket; we sat on benches literally right behind the orchestra. Although the acoustics weren't so perfect when the soloists played/sang towards the "front" of the audience, I LOVED being on the same side of the conductor as the musicians. You should copy and paste this link into a new browser window to hear my favorite movement of the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHJRaqaHiEc&feature=related
You can take a virtual tour of the crazy concert hall by clicking here.
You can click here for all my Berlin photos. Enjoy!

And then there was Prague.

Another amazing city which I am determined to go back to someday when it's not covered in snow. We lucked out with sun on two of our three days there, but I can only imagine how beautiful the city is when it's in bloom. The downside was that even though it was waaayyy below freezing, the tourists were just as plentiful as the snowflakes. I know, I know, I'm a tourist too, but I didn't really feel that way in Berlin. It seemed much easier to tap into a bit of local culture in that vast metropolis, where as pint-sized Prague, particularly the "must-see" sites such as Old Town Square, continually wanted to offer you a guided tour that meets in front of a Starbucks right next to a restaurant which serves "Authentic Czech cuisine". Our guidebook did help us find a nice restaurant for Sunday night, but even there, I heard nothing but English in the room. I suppose it doesn't help that if I thought German looked crazy, CZECH looked nothing short of ridiculous. I mean, you try ordering off a menu that looks like this:
http://www.bar-bar.cz/cz/maincz.htm
And I guess that's it. In Prague there seems to be a pretty definite line between the tourist-serving joints that offer menus in English (and also usually French, Spanish, Russian, Italian, German...) and the places that don't, which consequently are frequented by locals. There actually were a few Czechs in the place at the link above, Bar Bar, which we found thanks to the guide book, but I heard English, too. Andy ordered jalepeño poppers.

Anyway, there seems to be a similar division within the city itself. It sort of reminded me of Venice and Florence in that respect. I guess the rule of thumb is that "tourist hunters" (who want to bombard you with flyers for free drinks (from 9-10 PM) in a "great club") know where to find us in those smaller villes.

Anyway, seeing as how looks-wise I fit in quite decently with the locals (being Czech myself), I would really love to learn a bit of the language before going back. My grandfather spoke it but he sadly did not pass it on to my dad!

I guess the things to do in Prague are pretty obvious: go to the castle (the biggest castle complex in the world), watch the Astronomical Clock chime in Old Town Square, drink beer. We did it all, one thing in particular more than a couple times! ;)

The Best "Thing Gone Wrong": The "walk" from Petrin Hill to the Strahov Monastery. It's a downhill hike with plenty of stairs...all of which were completely snowed/iced over. We literally had no choice but to ski/slide/fall down the hill - that or descend via the furnicular, which would mean going right back to where we started and having to traverse the city to get to the monastery. It started out as a "surely I can do this by holding onto the hand-rail" kind of thing, but quickly turned into a free f(or)all. Andy, the boy who tempts fate every time he goes down to the Seine by standing on the very edge of the walkway (very nearly falling in at least once), the boy who recently returned from a skiing trip, jumped (or slid) right in. Sensible and gravity/bone fracture-fearing person that I am, I was pretty wary at first, but once I got started, it wasn't so bad. There is a video. I do not want you to see it.

Biggest Local Bad-Boy-Artist: David Černý. We saw several examples of his irreverent work throughout the city:

Museum Moment: Kampa Museum. I didn't see any other museums in Prague, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that this would have been my favorite. The setting, in a converted flour mill, was unique and I found the art (contemporary Czech/Central European) very interesting. The museum is located on Kampa Island, Prague's beautiful little Venice, complete with canal tours, and the view from the top of the mill was pretty sweet:

We got back late Tuesday and today (Thursday), the second semester started. What?! Yes. The exam period technically ended yesterday (Wednesday), so there could theoretically be students at Paris III who had literally just a few hours of break between semesters. Lame! Oh well, I met a Romanian girl - named Alina - in Italian class today, and it was kind of nice to walk into class and recognize some faces among the Frenchies. I'm sooo not in the mood to deal with another semester's paperwork (UT, I love you, but if you don't give me credit for these courses, I will not love you so much), and, not having the background in European history/lit that the French students have, I'm once again forced to overcome that disadvantage. But I'll stop whining; today's professor seemed very nice :)

Have a good weekend, everyone! Keep in touch.

Love love love,

Alina :)

Soldes, Opera, Champagne...sounds like Paris.

2010-01-19T23:25:00.003+01:00

Buongiorno!

Today's listening (probably best to copy into a new window so you don't lose this page!):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBW5a77wINQ

When we left off I was eagerly awaiting les soldes, the big twice-annual government-regulated sales. They last 5 weeks around January/February and another 5 weeks in June/July. Other than that, stores are allowed to have major sales two weeks a year, as long as those sales aren't too close to the big "fixed" ones. There are also exemptions for certain "touristic or border" zones. All part of the "law of the modernization of the economy". Do we have laws regulating sales in the US?
Anyway, just a *few* euros poorer and sitting next to a much more diversified wardrobe, here I am! Love ya, France!

On Thursday I got to sit in on a rehearsal of Bellini's Norma at the Théâtre du Châtelet. It definitely brought me back to my singing days, especially those spent at HGO - good to know that the location of the stage doesn't affect the freneticism of the rehearsal! - and was a good little reminder of the artistic life of this city which I haven't yet fully exploited. Let's just say lots of websites have been checked and dates have been marked since that little awakening.

In other news, I'll be traveling to Berlin and Prague from January 28th to February 2nd. Just one more blog post between now and then!

Here's one for you: yesterday my French Literature and Politics professor served us champagne in class to ring in the New Year right. I guess it's a little late, but...it's champagne...in class...! Oh, France. What will I do without you next year?

Later that day I was "teaching English" (slash-babysitting) when Justine, the 10-year-old, came home looking particularly satisfied. "Today a boy at school asked me out," she confessed within approximately 3.4 seconds of walking in the door. For the very practical 8-year-old Fanny, the next step was obvious: "Well...where will you go?"

That's a good question. Nonetheless let us all be happy for Justine!

See you next week,
Alina :)

PS. Here's the link to my Promenades Album -- click to the end for pics of today's excursion to Parc Bercy!

Snow and the Airport - two things you don't want to see in the same blog post...

2010-01-10T11:50:00.001+01:00

Hello!

Another snow this week! Making it a week to stay inside/warm - studying/movies, anyone?

I did venture out on Thursday I picked up fellow UT/MICEFA student Victoria at Charles de Gaulle. Victoria had "friended" me on facebook after the Study Abroad Office told her that I was already doing the exchange. Over the last few months she'd messaged me for advice a few times, and as her arrival drew nearer I thought about how nice it was for ME to have my friend Pauline waiting at the other side of the gate when I got to Paris...so I offered to pick her up. I was also supposed to be picking up Jimena, another UT student who had contacted me, but unfortunately she flew through Heathrow airport, which was snow-bound for most of the day Thursday, delaying her connection by about 12 hours. Yep.

Paris was en plein forme Thursday morning (ahem, sarcasm), meaning that I needed to take 3 RER B trains to get to CDG when usually 1 will suffice; there was some kind of technical problem at Chatelet Les Halles and the B trains were actually arriving and departing from a D train platform. Then ratp changed the schedule of the train I ended up on - we arrived at an un-scheduled station and the driver announced that this was the terminus and we needed to catch the next train to get to the airport. Considering it was an outdoor platform and the temperature was -7 celsius, I wasn't too pleased. I finally (though, when I think about Jimena's experience, I am hesitant to use this word) made it to terminal 2A and took a place behind the hip-high railing that stretches in front of sliding doors which opened every now and spit-out a weary, wayward, jet-lagged soul. It was strange to think that all the people coming out of those doors had been in my home state less than ten hours before.

The man standing next to me had, in true Parisian fashion, brought his small dog with him to the airport welcome. The doors only opened about once a minute and as the minutes dragged on the man and the dog got restless. The man subtly swayed, turned, and rocked in slow 270s (not a full 360; no one would be coming in from outside the airport) and the dog turned a slow circle around him, glancing up and sniffing at me every now and then. Finally their passenger arrived and off they went. Victoria arrived shortly after and off WE went - for a full day of Paris orientation. I'll be repeating this process next Thursday when my friend Cody arrives to study at Science Po for a semester :)

No other news, except that the SOLDES (huge twice-yearly sales) have commenced! I'm planning to check some out next week :)

xoxo

Alina :)

2010: c'est parti !!

2010-01-05T21:48:00.004+01:00

Bonne Année à tous et à toutes !! :)

Unfortunately, the first few days of 2010 consisted of a lot of research and then writing of my Italian paper; let's cross our fingers that it pays off! I did see several movies over the vacation, including Les Chats Persans, "No One Knows About Persan Cats" in English, which I strongly recommend. It's based on a true story about some young people trying to start a music group in Iran, where unfortunately this requires lots of bureaucratic obstacles and fulfilling of national/religious standards. Anyway, the montages of Teheran are beautiful and moving and I very much enjoyed listening to the beautiful language. Best Foreign Film Oscar, anyone? We'll see...

On Tuesday I said au revoir to Roxane, my French friend who is studying at UT Austin this semester. I sent her off with a crisp 10 USD bill, "valid only" at my favorite coffee shop. She just arrived in the States today; I'm very interested to hear all about her journey when she returns in May!!

Other than studying and seeing friends and movies, the only other thing that really happened last week was...drum roll please...New Year's Eve! I started off the evening with some champagne and snacks with my group of American friends, then went out to dinner with my Italian friends Zina, Stefania, and Andrea, our Austrian friend Sandra, a newbie french guy named Alexandre...and 2380234 girls from Rome who were visiting Zina for the holidays. Alright, so it was more like 10, but boy was I surprised to walk into the restaurant and see everyone seated at the biggest table! We went to an Italian place, of course, and the dinner was really fun and lively (with Italians, how else could it be?). After dinner, we tried to make it to the Champs de Mars to see the light show on the Eiffel Tower - unfortunately (but not really surprisingly) the metro was ridiculously crowded, and with all the girls in heels, walking was out of the question, so we ended up watching the show from the Place de la Concorde, which was more reasonably populated than both the metro and, from what I hear, the Champs de Mars, the only downside being that we could only see about half the illuminated side of the Tower. At midnight the whole thing started glittering, shouts were heard from every direction, and we popped open our bottles of champagne. Afterwards we wandered a bit between a couple of parties, one of which was in the Latin Quarter in an old apartment occupied by "squatters" (friends of Alexandre). The atmosphere there - a dimly-lit room frequented by fashionably dressed students smoking cigarettes and engaged in intellectual conversation - felt so 60s-Paris. The least enjoyable part of the night was definitely getting home since only a few metro stations remained open all night and none of them were too convenient for where we were. Finding a taxi was next to impossible since they were all occupied (and apparently the majority go out to the suburbs on New Year's Eve?) and my friend Sandra and I ended up walking to my place, where she stayed with me. I guess that sounds like a pretty dangerous solution, but we were in a nice, busy part of town, on major streets....and we were desperate to find a warm bed! We weren't the only ones that had problems -- at one point we stopped at a bus stop where at least two dozen people appeared to be waiting for a bus. I asked one of them which bus they were waiting for. "Actually," he said, "the buses aren't running right now." "Then why are you waiting?" I asked. "I don't know," he replied, before taking another swig of champagne. Hmmm, Happy New Year! I heard other stories of a gang releasing tear-gas on a metro platform and a swat team coming on one of the few operating metro lines to break up a fight ("ratp, on new year's eve, they don't play," one of my friends informed me). I think the lesson learned here is to get as many of your friends together as possible, preferably in an apartment, and stay put for the night. In other words, New Year's in Paris can sort of kick your ass! (Excuse my French). Oh well, it was an interesting experience.

Yesterday normal life resumed again - with a 3 hour lecture on Italian-writer Ungaretti...at 8AM. Ugh! Luckily I only have one more week of classes this semester and then a couple of finals at the end of January. The sad thing is that classes start again right away at the beginning of February! Nonetheless, I'm trying to organize some traveling for this month, so cross your fingers and I'll keep you posted! After a two-week absence during les vacances, I returned to English tutoring last night with the family of 3 girls. I walked into the 6-year-old's room to find a frustrated Alice trying to assemble one of her Christmas presents, a big rocking cradle for her dolls. She actually was doing pretty well, but even with my help, it took the better part of an hour to finish. "This is what being an adult is like," I told her as she idly played with "Matilde" (her doll) while I broke a sweat forcing mysterious plastic objects together to form an even bigger plastic object. Note to self: NEVER buy children's toys which require assembly. Life's just too short.

Taking a page out of my friend Kenzie's book, I'll leave you with a letter I wrote to my dear adopted city:

Dear Paris,

Nice work bringing Mr. Sun out these last 2 days. Now let's do something about that bone-chilling wind of yours.

Love,

Alina

PS. I finished my facebook album, just in time for the new year! Here it is - the New Year's photos start on page 9.

A French Christmas

2009-12-27T22:22:00.005+01:00

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!

I certainly did...

I'd say the week kicked off on Monday when Maurice and Laurence made the decision that we could, after all, go to Maurice's house in Normandy for a couple days. We'd had plans to go since the week before, but then the big snow happened, and on Sunday the weather forecasters were saying that they couldn't predict what would happen Tuesday and Wednesday, leaving Maurice and Laurence worried about either not reaching the house or getting snowed in once there. Just before they changed their minds a second time, we were sitting at the table for lunch as Laurence and Maurice pondered on what to do with our new-found time in Paris. "It's funny," Maurice said, "people come from all around the world to see Paris but we Parisians sit here asking ourselves what there is to do in this city!" Camille was even more quiet than usual and I got the feeling that he was disappointed that our little séjour had been cancelled. I asked Laurence about it after lunch; she said he was just being an adolescent, but he did seem considerably less angsty once, due to updated forecasts, Maurice and Laurence said we'd be going the following day. "Allez," Maurice said, "on bouge maintenant!"- and bouge they did! Within a matter of minutes, L & M were on their respective phones, making calls to I'm-still-not-sure-who, writing grocery lists, doing laundry and packing bags. Though I may not have shown it so explicitly, I was just as happy as Camille was that we'd be getting out of town for a couple days.

15-year-old Axèl, who by a complicated family tree would be considered Camille's step-nephew, decided to join us, which freed Laurence from the obligation of playing cards for several hours with Maurice, Camille and me over the course of Tuesday and Wednesday. I learned a new card game, using a full deck plus tarot cards, which I WON, although I lost miserably to Camille and Axèl at RISK. In my defense, the rules were, of course, different! Not sure if that was due to the fact that our game was very vintage 1950s or because it's the French version. But get this - Texas and Kansas were their own territory. Yeeehaw! :P

Other than lots of good eating, card-playing, reading, and sitting by the fire, I did venture out into the village once when Maurice eagerly offered to give me a tour. Maurice is an ex-history teacher, so the tour was pretty informative (and animated).

We came back Thursday early-afternoon, leaving just enough time for a quick turn-around from our country casual to the city chic which was required at Hélène(Laurence's daughter)'s Reveillons (Christmas Eve) party. It was good to see David, Hélène, Jean-Philippe, Philippine, and OF COURSE Athina again, and I got to meet J-P's mother, Marina, who I thought was Italian...when I asked her, she quickly corrected me: "Je suis française." However, she later admitted that she was born in Italy but "left right away." What can I say, some people refuse to be anything other than pure French! To our (anglophones) credit, Marina told me that she thinks English is the "perfect" language, partially because we don't have all this business of formal and informal address, but also because it's..."melodious"?! Quoi?!

We did our gift-exchange that night; I received a book of the chefs-d'oeuvre at the Quai Branly museum where Laurence works as well as some mittens with convenient thumb and finger openings to use at the apartment, where it gets pretty chilly even when the heat is on (which can be a rare occurrence...), and some Nuxe Huile Prodigeuse from Hélène. As far as giving goes, I gave Athina a copy of the now-popular (thanks to the film, even if it's not for kids) Where the Wild Things Are (french translation: Max et les Maximôntres), Laurence a new salad service set (our spoon has been broken for a couple months...) and a pretty candle-bowl I bought in Germany, various American products for Camille (beef jerky, his favorite, as well as bbq sauce and chocolate chip cookie mix), and for Maurice, Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States in french translation. Believe it or not, I had to go to 3 bookstores to find it; the others had sold out!

The festivities continued Friday (Christmas Day) with some snacks and champagne at Laurence's mother's house in Saint-Mandé, a neighborhood on the south/east border of the 20 arrondissements. I met even more of the family, and I even met Christy, the American girl who stayed with Laurence last year and who is visiting the city on her vacation. We had a good time comparing our experiences when Athina wasn't monopolizing my time, demanding that I look at her new presents!

I met another of Laurence's nephews on Friday: Gauthier, who is studying medicine (focus in psychiatry) in Strasbourg (hence his absence at previous family events). A native Parisian (who, unlike the rest of the family, decided to escape the city for a few years), his favorite thing to do when here is walk around, and we decided to meet up the following day for a visit to Père-Lachaise, the famous Paris cemetery where Jim Morrison, Rossini, Molière, and MANY others are buried. The day was perfect for a walk in this crowded but picturesque city of the dead: miraculously sunny, clear and crisp, with autumn leaves still scattered everywhere.

Bells started ringing as the sun set, signaling the closure of the cemetery and leaving us with barely enough time to see one last tomb - that of Oscar Wilde. I, unlike MANY others before me, resisted the urge to don red lipstick and kiss the stone, but I'm glad we managed to see it before rushing to one of the exits.

After that, our little promenade turned into a legitimate tour of the city as we made it to Sacre Coeur (where I sadly did not take any pictures) AND the Eiffel Tower:

You can go the pages 6-8 of this album to see more Père-Lachaise and Eiffel Tower pictures. My only regret is that I didn't get a picture of the tower while we were up there and the lights were glittering (which happens on the hour).

From there we headed to La Grande Roue, the big ferriswheel on the Place de la Concorde/Jardin des Tuileries that was featured in this (fellow) Parisian's photo-blog. It may have been somewhat outrageously expensive (10 euros for about 10 minutes), but at least the little compartments were enclosed and heated!

Today's been another restful day of vacation - slept in, went to the movies (to see Michael Moore's newest, "Capitalism: A Love Story," which I do recommend: Moore may be strange in his methods, but it always takes a few "radicals" to pull the rest of us along. I don't buy into every single thing he says, but the movie was nonetheless informative and interesting, and possibly even slightly more centrist than his others), and now I'm writing this. But next week needs to be exceedingly productive: I've got some late Christmas shopping to do (for friends who weren't here Christmas week), movies to catch up on, and above all, a paper to write for my Italian Lit. class. Keep your fingers crossed for me, have a happy and SAFE New Year's Eve, and I'll let you know how everything went next Monday!

xoxo

Alina :)

PS. Here's the album with Normandy and Reveillons pictures (see pages 5-9).

White (pre-)Christmas...

2009-12-21T14:45:00.002+01:00

Merry Christmas, everyone! Hard to believe it's this Friday...

Last week was a good one. My lovely american friend Delpha, who is engaged to a French boy (named, quite appropriately, François) invited me to a wine tasting that François and his co-workers had organized. They had all worked at Nautic, a big boating fair in Paris, for the 10 days preceding, so by the time Monday rolled around, they were ready to relax a bit. Someone reserved a small bar in the 5th for us, and the fact that there was more consumption of wine happening than tasting of it only made the atmosphere better. I'm starting to wonder if the entire idea of a "wine tasting" was merely a pretext!

I can't help but add that François and Delpha met at a "salon" event kind of like Nautic -- she was here with her company just for the week. They met and exchanged information; I don't think think Delpha expected anything major out of the encounter, but François was evidently pretty smitten, and they'll be getting married in March! Sounds like the plot from a movie...

Tuesday night I was invited to a play put on by my friend Roxane's business school: Du vent dans les branches de sassafras or The Wind in the Sassafras Trees. From what I can gather, the original play was in French, written by a French guy who was born in Hong Kong...although I did find this less-than-enthusiastic review of a production in Boston...
Anyway, it's a western parody, so overall pretty appropriate for me to see. Roxane is French but will be studying at UT next semester; fellow Longhorns, I'll probably be calling on you guys to show her around! (In fact, thanks to my advice, she'll be living in Laurel Co-op, which shares the building with Halstead (where I lived last year) and Nueces. I'm hoping co-op living is a rewarding experience for her; it definitely was for me!)

Wednesday was spent in yoga class, tutoring (2 families) and on skype. Mom, Dad, and Nicole - it was very nice to see you! :)

I failed to heed my first 2 alarms Thursday morning, but the sight of SNOW outside jolted me awake once I finally made it to the window. Paris actually doesn't get snow that often, so the excitement in the air was pretty tangible. Walking to school, I passed lots of kids (and kids-at-heart) building snowmen and throwing snowballs. I haven't lived with snow since I spent my freshman year of college in Pittsburgh; Thursday brought back a lot of not-so-distant memories. I had figured that snow in Paris would get gross pretty quickly, but the city stayed pretty neatly covered in our white blanket through Friday evening, and before I knew it the snow was gone on Sunday.

(Poor pigeons don't have any uggs to keep them warm!!)

All of France got snow this time, and the cities in the South, much like southern cities in the States, didn't know how to handle it; Marseilles was pretty much shut-down for a couple days!

Friday was spent with Texans, kind of. First I saw my friend Colleen (who goes to UT) on skype, then I went to a birthday dinner for Xavier, a french guy who currently works in Houston but who returned to France with his wife for the holidays. Thanks so much for including me, Xavier!

I saw La Route, otherwise known as The Road (American film based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy) on Saturday, after which I thought I might never be happy again (it's an apocalyptic story). Well, that's a bit of an overstatement, but it definitely wasn't your typical "holiday movie"! Later Zina and I checked out the Christmas Market on the Champs Elysées and the mini-carnival that was set up in the Grand Palais. Neither was anything too special, but I did get some cool pictures from one of the rides:

(Carnival rides aren't Zina's favorite thing.)
Later we saw Le Vilain, a French comedy. Good practice for our French! Zina now has the unlimited cinema pass as well, so I predict more outings in the near (and distant) future!

Laurence, Camille, Maurice, and I were supposed to go to Normandy (where Maurice has a country house) today, but they cancelled the trip because of the snow. Due to updated weather forecasts (and some pouting on Camille's part), they just decided that we can go tomorrow. Yeehaw! I need to work on an Italian paper, which isn't exactly what I'd like to be doing during the "vacation", but it'll be nice to get away from the distractions of the city for a couple days.

Stay warm, y'all!

xoxo
Alina :)

Pirandello can wait.

2009-12-13T22:41:00.001+01:00

You know you're in France when:

You walk down Rue Pascal to get to school.

The 4-year-old you babysit tells you there's no school tomorrow because of a teachers strike.
Your neighbor's dog is named "Gaspard."

No Earth-shattering updates this week (unlike in EVERY other post, duh), but it was a good one nonetheless. I did well(-enough) on an Italian oral expression exam, mainly thanks to some last-minute practice with my friend Zina, who's from Rome. Right now I'm procrastinating - I need to finish reading this Italian play that we'll be discussing in class tomorrow morning - so in 10 hours. Seems like a lot of time to me.

Laurence had another party Friday night, this time with her softball team. They're a diverse bunch - mostly French, but one woman from Colombia and other from Italy (!), and of all different ages...but all susceptible to the powers of alcohol. Here are Laurence and me after (a couple glasses of wine and) a game of White Elephant, the vicious game of gift-swapping:

(I ended up with the shoes and she ended up with what is not in fact a lampshade but a straw hat...)

Saturday night I went to a crémaillère - a house-warming - for a friend of a (French) friend. It was a really relaxed and nice group of people and I had a great time. One of the people I was talking to informed me that I should consider myself bilingual (trilingual?). I wouldn't say that yet, but I am definitely continuing to make progress, though I rarely go a day without any English, because of the tutoring/babysitting and even things like email and facebook (and this blog).
No photos from the house-warming, but I'll give you these instead: some of my favorites from the past (almost) three and a half months (time flies!)...

It's starting to get cold here - light snow tomorrow maybe?
Stay warm everyone!
xoxo
Alina :)

Deutschland!

2009-12-08T00:59:00.000+01:00

Germany! I loved it!

I went with my German friend Anja, who lived with me at Halstead Co-op in Austin last year (when she was doing an exchange) and who has now moved to Paris for a few months to do an internship. I have almost no knowledge of German, except for when I sang lieder in high school/college (although I never liked to sing in German because of all the consonants), and I would have felt 100% lost without a German-speaker to help me with every interaction!

Anja taught me a few phrases, so now I can say all the "Gutens" (guten morgen, guten tag, etc) and I can count to ten, which actually kind of came in handy because I bought A LOT of wonderful things at the (world famous) German Christmas Markets!

I got out of class earlier than Anja got off work on Friday, so I took a train two hours earlier and stopped in Strasbourg until Anja caught up. Making a 1.5-hour solo tour of a city definitely requires a bit of planning, and I wanted to get a guidebook of Strasbourg to make the most of my short time there. Unfortunately, traveling two weekends in a row definitely made life a little hectic last week (I basically don't know what happened/where it went) -- Thursday night rolled around and I still hadn't found time to pick one up at the library. "No big deal," I thought, "I can go tomorrow morning." WRONG! So most City of Paris libraries don't open until TWO PM on Fridays! (And they aren't open at all on Mondays.) Rushing to the nearest one (which luckily had what I needed) after class made me a little nervous about catching my train, but that's studying abroad I guess -- BUSY.

Luckily Strasbourg is pretty small, so I saw most of the historic center (conveniently contained on a small island in the middle of the river Ill), moving on foot the entire time and armed with my LonelyPlanet guide and my camera. I love how train stations, unlike airports, are usually located near/in the city center!

A city which has been passed back and forth between France and Germany over the last few centuries (and now marks the border), Strasbourg is now in France, but the German influence is strong. For this reason, it was the perfect introduction to Germany for me!

Anja's mom and sister picked us up from a train station about 45 minutes from their house in Shoental, a collection of seven small villages which translates to "beautiful valley." Once we were in the car, driving through the dark and silent German countryside, Anja said "First time in Germany, Alina!"

"Yep!" I replied.

Then her mom turned around from the driver's seat to say: "Autobahn!"

Between the drive to and from Heidelberg Saturday and then to Mannheim to catch the train the Sunday evening, much of my weekend was spent on the famous autobahn! And it's true that many parts - including a lot of what we were driving through - have no limit! Anja pointed out that Germany is the "land of fast cars" - Audi, Mercedes, Porsche...and on these parts of the highway you actually have a chance of using all that fabulous horsepower. Honestly I don't know how fast we went - I couldn't see the speedometer when Anja's mom was driving...but I'm not sure I'd have wanted to!! :P

On Saturday we went to Heidelberg, a historic university town complete with a fifteenth century castle. We were so busy exploring the city's main street that we didn't get to the castle until the sun was long gone (ahem, sunset STARTED around 3PM). But I really enjoyed the night views from high up on the hill. The rest of the evening was spent wandering the Christmas markets and hanging out with Marie-Louise, one of Anja's friends who studies in Heidelberg. I was surprised to learn that the markets are all outside, considering Germany's climate during the winter, but that explains the popularity of the glühwein (hot wine with spices).

On Sunday I had a big German lunch with Anja's family before going to the Christmas market in the main settlement of Shoental. We saw a saxophone orchestra concert (!) and I bought even more German goodies, most of which will probably become gifts. A couple of them are going to decorate my room, though, so look out for pictures in the next couple of weeks...

Please click here for my Strasbourg/Germany photo album.

Have a great week everyone!

Alina :)

Madrileña!

2009-12-01T22:16:00.004+01:00

Bonjour!

Today marks three months in Paris for me! I can't believe it's already been that long, and I definitely feel sorry for all the exchange students who are already heading home in mid-December or in January. Not sorry in a condescending, "I pity you" kind of way; I'm just genuinely sorry! I'm not sure I'll even be ready to come home in July. But ask me that question again in...July.

It's been a great week. Before jetting off to Madrid last Thursday, I enjoyed a TASTY dinner with Vicki, Andy, and Vicki's visiting friend Irena on Tuesday night. We went to Gladine's, a Basque Bistrot in the 13th that Kenzie's French students (she teaches informal English classes at an Engineering school) had recommended to her a few weeks back. Mmmmm, delicious local secrets! We ate WAY more than our fill (at a reasonable price, although I think my idea of "reasonable" has changed quite a lot in the last three months) before heading off to meet Dominika, Kenzie, and Emily at Footsie's, otherwise known as the "stockmarket bar" near Opera. The prices change according to demand, which is pretty awesome, although it was slow on a Tuesday night so we didn't get the full effect. It was still really great to catch up with some of my "countrymen" who I hadn't seen in quite some time!

Wednesday passed quickly between yoga and 4 hours of teaching English and before I knew it I was on my way to Madrid. I flew Easyjet and got there around noon Thursday. My American friend Anthony, who I've known since we were six and both going to St. Rose, and who is doing an exchange in Madrid this year, met me at the airport. Unfortunately it was a cloudy, chilly, and rainy day -- one of the first they've had -- but we still had a good time exploring some of the major sites (Plaza Mayor, Palacio Real...) after dropping off my stuff at his friend Giuseppe's place, where I spent the first night (thanks, Giuseppe!!). I was immediately struck by the price differences -- things tended to be 1/2 or 2/3 of Paris prices -- and how sprawling the city is. After some research (involving Wikipedia, obviously the most credible source I know) I can give you the following rough figures. Everything in parentheses is the equivalent measurement in miles.
Paris
Land Area = 87 km-squared (34)
Population = 2.2 million
hence Density = 25,360/km-squared (65,700)
So that's "Paris Paris". The Urban Area (not to be confused with the Metro Area, click on the terms for wiki-definitions) is 2,723 km-squared (1,051); the Metro Area is 14,518 km-squared (5,605).
Madrid
Land Area = 600 km-squared (234)
Population = 3,2 million
hence Density = 5,300/km-squared (13,700)
The Metro Area is 10,500 km-squared (4,000) and the Metro Population is just over 7 million.

Well, if you got anything out of that, you see how much more compact Paris is. I'm not sure how much I really saw of the "city center" in Madrid, but it seems like you get out of it pretty quickly, and you notice when that happens, whereas in Paris I feel like I'm "downtown" pretty much all the time. It seems that most Madrileños live outside the city's bustling nucleus, and while I enjoyed the break from the hustle and bustle, I realized as I walked to my metro stop today how much I like seeing other people out and about. Speaking of metros, while the Madrid metro system is awesome, the land area of the city limits its efficiency. I'm getting pretty spoiled here in Paris, where the metro stops are sometimes only a minutes' walking distance away. Which does NOT mean that Parisians don't walk (because they do), but rather that no matter where you are, there's a station close by.
No wonder Parisians sing drinking songs about our metro!

After sightseeing Thursday afternoon, we headed back over to Giuseppe's for...wait for it...Thanksgiving dinner! Anthony's awesome friend Erin, who grew up in Luxembourg but whose father is American, had started preparing the stuffing the night before, but things really got going in the kitchen around 7PM Thursday night. Erin and Giuseppe worked for hours in kitchen while I wandered between them and the other guests, which eventually included four Belgians, three Americans (Anthony and me included), three Frenchies, a girl from Poland, a Peruvian girl, a German guy, Erin, and Giuseppe. So, you know how people usually start preparing Thanksgiving dinner in the morning? There's a reason for that. We ended up eating around midnight, which I guess is actually somewhat typical for Spain, but Erin, Giuseppe and I (when I was in the kitchen) underwent a LOT of harassment from some hungry students! It was worth the wait in the end though, because the food was delicious. Erin, Giuseppe and I sneakily prepared our plates first then let the others have a free-for-all with the rest of the food. When I wandered back into the kitchen a few minutes later, the three chickens (because if you want a whole turkey, especially a big one, you either need to call the butcher in advance or literally import one from the States) looked like they had been pecked apart by vultures.

Everyone left around 2am but most of us saw each other 8 short hours later when we met to take the bus to Toledo. Despite some tricky map-reading and a less-than-spectacular, we-cater-to-clueless-tourists lunch, we had a good time wandering the city and checking out a few of its churches, synagogues, and mosques. Toledo is pretty much how I've always pictured Spain (unlike the newer, and often unattractive, buildings in Madrid). The views, especially at sunset and from the towers of one of the churches, were spectacular:

The food on Saturday more-than made up for the interesting cuisine of Toledo. We started off the day with a trip to the Reina Sofia, a huge contemporaryish art center in Madrid. I had an amazing time there -- it might be my favorite museum so far (as in, in my life). Of course, that kind of stuff can have a lot to do with your mood and what temporary exhibits are there; I particularly enjoyed the top floor, where I found León Ferrari y Mira Schendel: El alfabeto enfurecido (The Enraged Alphabet). The whole exhibit was just really interesting, maybe because a lot of it was about language. I also thought the layout and placement of the pieces was excellent: they used a lot of overhead spotlighting, an intentional choice I'm sure, which allowed most of the 3 dimensional pieces to cast some awesome shadows. I actually hesitated before stepping into some of the shadows the pieces cast. Maybe I've just got a thing for shadows; you can look at pages 7 and 8 of this album to judge for yourself.

The physical structure of the Reina Sofia is an interesting mix of the original building and the very modern addition, as you can see from other pictures in that album.

After the museum we headed to Anthony's host's piso (apartment) for comida, which literally means "food" but in Spain can also mean the biggest meal of the day (usually a mid-afternoon lunch). Anthony is living with Maete and Jacinto, "relatives" of his family (his sister's godmother's sister is Maete, I believe), and I adore them. We started off with the best white wine I've ever had (which isn't saying much, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that something so sweet actually suited the tastebuds of people besides my friend Nicole and I). The first plate was bread with a garlic-butter spread and Spanish ham, which is tougher and tastier than "normal" ham, and a salad. Then Maete brought out a dish of rice and seafoody things which kind of resembled gumbo (can anyone help me out here with a name?). That was amazing as well. In honor of our Americanism, Maete baked an apple crumble with fresh cream/custard (I'm awful with food classifications), which was soooo delicious, there is no way I can adequately describe it. YUM! Afterwards Jacinto headed into the kitchen to whip up some Irish coffee.

At the table that day and throughout my visit to Spain, I was surprised at the lack of a language barrier. At first I thought it was due to my Texan origins (being so close to Mexico and surrounded by many immigrants/descendants of immigrants) and my two years of high-school Spanish (IF you can actually call those "language classes." Sorry PVA), but as I found myself hearing Spanish and thinking in Italian, I figured out the real reason I was able to understand so much of what was going on around me. The conversation at lunch that day was probably 80% Spanish, although Maete and Jacinto have been studying English all of their lives, so they were able to switch when I found myself at a loss. Sometimes my brain only offered me Italian words, and I got really tripped up over verb conjugations (I honestly don't think I ever learned anything but the present and imperfect), but overall the experience left me energized to actually learn Spanish -- after I spend some time in Italy working on my Italian. I have a feeling that if I learned it now, my Italian would all but disappear. YAY languages! I've decided my goal is to speak, relatively fluently, 5. English, French, Italian, Spanish...any ideas for the 5th? It has to be a "Slavic" language, I think. I'm thinking Russian, although it would be cool to learn Czech (my paternal grandfather spoke it but didn't teach it to my dad). By the way, did you know UT Austin is the only school in the United States where you can get an undergraduate degree in Czech? I actually originally applied for that major, but reality eventually hit and I realized how ridiculous it would be to learn three languages at the same time.

ANYWAY
Maete and Jacinto generously offered to take me on a driving tour of Madrid after lunch, and after that I met up with some of Anthony's girl friends to do some shopping. Madrid prices were a nice relief for my wallet, and I got some cute (and warm) stuff!
I met up with the group again around nine, when we went to another friend's house for an authentic Peruvian feast hosted by two Peruvian girls. I'm not really sure what the occasion was, or if there was one, but I felt so lucky (and full) to be eating another amazing meal! Later on Saturday we "went out". Going out is interesting in Madrid, as it's totally normal to just buy drinks from (mainly Chinese) vendors on the street (which explains why I witnessed a man basically buying out a grocery store's supply of coke late Friday night) and stand around, being rowdy, blocking traffic, etc. It's pretty different from Parisian-style sorties, but I had a good time with even more of Anthony's friends, including some Spaniards that we met, one of whom goes to university in France :)

By Sunday I was exhausted and already dreading the trek home and a test on Monday (which had been rescheduled from the Monday before). Anthony and I had an interesting experience with public transit which involved taking a bus 45 minutes in the wrong direction, but we eventually made it to the Prado museum, Spain's most famous, a huge monument which houses a collection spanning several centuries. It's about as overwhelming as the Met in New York, and by the time we got there it was almost time to head to the airport, but I'm glad I got to check out some Velazquez and a few El Greco works.

My return to Paris was uneventful, and as for the test, we'll see! The only downside to my Spain trip was that I missed the visit (to Paris) of my friend Jessica from CMU, who is studying right now in Copenhagen. I almost missed my friend Shaina's visit (she's studying in London this semester and we went to PVA together), but we met up at "Amelie's cafe" in the 18th (from the movie Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain, in case you've been living under a rock for the past 8 years) Monday evening. Considering how touristy the spot must be for the better part of the year, I was surprised at how friendly the waiters were (they DIDN'T "English" me) and how tasty the food was (although if you slap enough butter and cheese on something, it's bound to be delicious).

I took last night and today to recover from the busy long weekend - which means checking my emails, uploading pictures, and writing this blog post - but tomorrow it's back-to-the-grind (if I'm even allowed to say such a thing about life in Paris); I've got some makeup work to do before hopping on a train to Germany with Anja on Friday afternoon! Be sure to check out that album above (here it is again) to see all my pictures from Madrid and Toledo. I'll leave you with a few of my favorites...

Money, Prison, and a Near-Death Experience

2009-11-23T01:20:00.002+01:00

As my friend Katlyn said in her recent letter (Katlyn! I got your letter!), small things add up to big adventures, so here are a couple small things from this week:

At the beginning of October, I purchased a month's worth of Navigo (public transport pass), knowing that I would receive my year-long card in the mail within a couple weeks but having been advised that, upon reception of my permanent card, I would be reimbursed for what I did not use of the month's pass. You might need to read that a few times.

...Make sense?
Anyway, turns out the advice was bad, because after I got the imagine R (year) card, I searched in vain for an RATP agent who would reimburse me for at least 35 euros worth of un-used NAVIGO. A few days later I met Parvine, who told me about a friend of hers who is always sending letters when she's dissatisfied with something, usually with good results. Well, email is cheaper and faster than a letter, so I sent one to RATP. I was expecting the same snotty response I'd gotten at the info booths, so you can imagine my surprise when an agent emailed me back within a couple days, apologizing for the delay (!) and asking me to send receipts from my purchases. I did so but didn't hear anything for a couple weeks. I figured the battle had been lost from the beginning.
Low-and-behold, a check showed up on our doorstep Tuesday, for no less than 40.16 euros! Almost as awesome as the check, however, was the letter which accompanied it. Allow me to translate...

Mademoiselle,

In your letter which reached us the 13th of October, you asked us for a reimbursement of a month-long NAVIGO pass bought during the wait for your imagine R card.
However, we note that we received your imagine R contract the 2nd of October, and that we sent you your imagine R pass the 7th of October.
We remind you that the General Conditions of Sales (articles 1-7) state that no temporary transport pass bought between the date of the reception of your contract and the date of the posting of the imagine R will be reimbursed.
Nevertheless, we will reimburse you, on an exception, for the days during which your monthly pass overlapped your use of the imagine R.
We have, therefore, the pleasure of addressing the attached check of 40,16 euros.
The imagine R team remains at your disposition for any additional information and we thank you for your patronage.

HA! I love to see "however" and "nevertheless" in such close succession. I'll bet it was a "pleasure" to write me that check! Lest this be another too-good-to-be-true story, I deposited the money before this post, and so far, so good!

And now for a not-so-small thing: remember that scholarship application I turned in at the last minute in mid-October? I remember predicting that it would probably come to nothing, just like every other UT scholarship I've applied for. Voilà a situation in which I was glad to be proven wrong. I got a nice little congratulatory message on Monday. It was a great way to start the week!
Thanks, UT! :)

These last few days have consisted of lots of modified and/or cancelled plans as friends fell ill (not seriously), became overwhelmed with schoolwork (ahem, not me), and I forgot to take into account the duration of a typical French repas (meal). This afternoon I made a last-ditch effort to see a ballet at the Opéra Garnier. I began to see ads for Amoveo/Répliques/Genus a few weeks ago; a program of three contemporary dance pieces performed by the Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris, I knew immediately that I would like it. The show ran for at least two weeks and I kept putting it off (or failing to get rush tickets, when Marco and I tried one night) until today, when I returned to the almost-indiscernible box office (it's under construction) with fingers crossed that the ballet would be an unpopular attraction today. Well, I was wrong: it turns out some other people in Paris figured out that this was the last performance. In the end, I decided against buying limited-visibility tickets, especially after the guy behind the glass informed another student and I that we would see "rien" - nothing! Cosa ci serve, questo?!
I have to admit I was pretty disappointed to have missed the show, but this was a learning experience, and I know that there will be plenty of other wonderful ballets.

The most dramatic experience of the week was definitely Wednesday night, when Pauline invited me to her place to watch France play Ireland in soccer for a place in the World Cup championship in South Africa. The thing is that Pauline and Mamadou live literally next door to the Stade de France, where the game was being played. So while I was just trying to get to a friend's house with some stuff to cook for dinner, everyone else in Paris -- including 20,000 Irish visitors -- was making his/her way to the Stade de France to watch the game live via one of two metro lines. I joined literally thousands of others catching the 13 at St. Lazarre, where the cars pulled into the station completely full and left even fuller. Things were uncomfortable, but tolerable, until we got to Place de Clichy, where probably 300 fired up (and drunk) Irish and French fans were screaming "soccer-songs" (for lack of a better term...a bizarre mix of drinking songs, national anthems, and cheers), stomping, clapping, shouting, and jumping around. The spectacle was funny to observe but it got downright terrifying as the metro doors opened and dozens of drunk Irishmen attempted to climb into the car. Everyone inside was shouting "no room!", but it did no good. Our new fellow-travelers pushed those at the doors back into everyone else, and I felt like I was in a trash compactor. A woman behind me started shouting that this was her stop. I propelled myself through the crowd in front of me, stepping out of the car to let her exit. I was definitely in "fight-or-flight" mode, and as I turned back to the car to see a woman bitching out the guy behind her, who was probably utilizing the situation to get a little too close, I chose flight. I called Pauline and Mamadou, spouting off (in French, though!) about how ridiculous it all was and asking if there was any way I could walk to their place from Place de Clichy. Mamadou said it would be much too far to walk, and there was too much traffic to come get my in their car, but that I should wait a few minutes for the crowds to die down. I only had to wait about ten to see a significant wane in intoxicated, screaming fans, although the atmosphere in the metro was still a little tense as the towering Irishmen hammered on the walls and the roof, to the disdain of many French fans (and to people who were just trying to get home). The electricity went out at least twice while we were in the tunnels, and at one station, the conductor had to try five times to close the doors. The last time, she came over the P/A to announce that this was the "last try". I'm not sure what she would have done if they didn't close, but, just like with children (ahem), the threat worked. I breathed a sigh of relief when she came on again to announce we were one station away, and I made a beeline for the Guinness tent outside the stadium as soon as I exited. I plan to never put myself in that situation again, but I might try to go to the metro to get some pictures next time there's a big event like that. Quintessential completely over-crowded Paris!!
Anyway, France won in "overtime", so we're qualified, although it turns out that the ball was handed just before the winning goal. The Irish PM asked FIFA for a re-match, but they wont get it, since according to the FIFA rulebook, game results are final. I would sure hate to be that referee. It's a hard job!

Alright, I should get to sleep, seeing as how I have class in seven hours. I might get that Italian test back at that time, so keep your fingers crossed for me!!

With love and pictures (see below),
Alina :)

Oh yea, go the the end of this album to see just a few shots of my tourism this week - I visited the Conciegerie, which, like many public monuments, used to be a prison. The prison, to be more exact, in which Marie Antoinette stayed for five weeks awaiting her execution. I also made it to Saint Chapelle, but was actually disappointed, possibly due to all the hype but more probably due to the rude woman at the ticket window who, contrary to what her colleague told me a couple weeks ago, insisted that my carte de séjour is no different from a tourist's visa. Seriously, is it always necessary to be as rude as possible, particularly when you're wrong? I think another letter might be in order...

4 days later...

2009-11-15T12:45:00.005+01:00

Not much to report since 4 days ago, unless you consider a French grammar test interesting! I can offer you the following, though:

Centre Pompidou, mid-day Thursday

Same spot, less shadow. It is okay if I refer to these sculptures as "cute"?

Because they are.

I think this is my favorite Paris picture so far. This little guy hangs out in a drapery shop just down the street from me. A real-live doggie in the window -- but he always looks so worried! :/

Through the MICEFA, I've met some students who will be studying at UT next semester. Yay Texas!

On Friday I went back to ParisTech (you might -- but probably don't -- remember them as the engineering school which hosted the English workshop a couple months ago) to visit James' English class. It was pretty chaotic and sort of reminded me of a few courses I took in high school. For at least the second time, I got the whole "you're from Texas? Are you the daughter of President Bush?" thing. WHEN are people going to get over that? Regardless of my political beliefs, this question is unoriginal, dated (umhello, we have a new President now!), annoying...and statistically, highly unlikely.

I later informed the student that we Texans easily tire of hearing this reaction to our...nationality, let's say ;)

His response: "But it was a joke. I just wanted to see your reaction." Okay, so when you first meet someone, do you always start the conversation with a potentially-insulting "joke"? If that's the only thing you know about Texas...ferme ta gueule!

Thanks.

But the bigger issue here, and the problem I've noticed in general, is that I am sometimes seen as an English-speaking object and not a person. I'm not here to be talked at. Just because you CAN say something in English, doesn't mean you should. At ParisTech's workshop, some of the students were conducting interviews with English-speaking tourists. The question they kept coming back to was "if you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?" I don't know about you, but if I were vacationing in Paris and agreed to participate in an on-camera interview for some rowdy French students, I would consider that question a little invasive.

Learning a language isn't just about learning the grammar and the vocabulary. You need to think about what you're saying.

Okay, I'm done! :)

Italian literature test tomorrow; I'll be happy in approximately 22 hours. Even if the test goes badly, at least it will be over!

Wish me luck,

Alina :)

Une Bonne Continuation

2009-11-11T12:43:00.002+01:00

It's Wednesday and I'm finally getting around to a new post. This probably still would not be happening (because I'd be studying and yoga-ing at school) except that it's Armistice Day, so school is cancelled and most people aren't at work.

Somewhat fittingly, I saw Inglorious Basterds last night. I think that was my first Tarantino-directed film (!) and I found it quite enjoyable (and also quite gory, of course...). Brad Pitt and Christopher Waltz (Hans Landa) were amazing!
I also saw two French films last week, Les Herbes Folles and Le Petit Nicolas. Le Petit Nicolas is the movie version of the popular French children's stories written by René Goscinny and illustrated by Jean-Jacques Sempé. I think Nicolas is the equivalent of our Eloise. Anyway you can't go into any school supply store without seeing him all over the children's notebooks, etc. The movie was so cute! The stories were all new to me, of course, so I was lol-ing pretty much the whole time. If that movie happens to come to the States, or if it goes on Netflix someday, I recommend it for some good laughs!

I finally made it to the Louvre last week! You can see a few pictures starting on page 4 of this album (click here). I went alone, because I prefer going to museums alone. Later that day my friend Josh said that he doesn't like going to museums alone because then you have no one to talk about the art with, therefore you don't appreciate the art as much. What do you think?
Admittedly, I know next to nothing about art, so in a museum as huge and intimidating as the Louvre, I relied partially on my guide book to tell me which are the not-to-be-missed pieces. Ironically, two of them - The Astronomer and Le Tricheur - are on loan to a museum in Minneapolis! Paris to Minneapolis: if I were The Astronomer, I'd consider that a downgrade. But they'll be back at the Louvre in January, as will I...
For most of my visit, I was on the top floor (4 or 5?), so as I walked around, I found fabulous views of all parts of the city, as well as a literally breathtaking sunset (the pictures don't really capture it, but you can have a look).

On another promenade last week, I made stops at the Holocaust memorial on Ile-de-la-Cité, and Notre Dame (finally!). The memorial is an artistic, cell-like structure filled with references to the triangles that Jews had to wear to identify themselves and with quotes etched into the stone walls. I visited on a rainy, overcast day which only contributed to the sobering experience of going there. Notre Dame is Notre Dame, huge and touristy. I find the history just as impressive as the structure itself; it was once the site of a Roman temple to Jupiter, used for marriage ceremonies of French royalty, the site of Joan of Arc's heresy trial in 1455, renamed the Temple of Reason by revolutionaries, and was actually used to shelter livestock in the early 1800s, until Hugo's novel came out and brought ol' ND back into the public eye. De Gaulle and Mitterand's funeral masses were held here. There are a few pictures on page 3 of this album, as well as pictures from last Friday on page 5: Friday was kind of sunny, so I went back (with Claire and Dominika) to make the 422-step climb up the towers.

The weekend flew by thanks to a walk down Champs Elysées with my Austrian friend Sandra, another dinner at the apartment (at which Athina made another appearance),

a trip to the Musée d'Orsay with Parvine,

a tennis match at Parc Bercy,

and a Chopin concert at St. Julien le Pauvre.

Other recent developments are work- and volunteer-related: I "taught" my first English lessons Monday night to two boys (13 and 16) who live just down the street - found this job thanks to flyers I put up in the quartier a few weeks ago. When I first wrote the flyer, I tried to use a French translation of the word "tutor" to convey what I had in mind. I asked Laurence to proofread my flyer and, little by little, she reworded the entire thing, so in the end the announcement offered my services as an american student who "gives english courses" since there actually isn't a French word for tutor. This made me more than a little nervous since I am by no means qualified or prepared to teach actual English lessons. It seems to have worked out, though; the boys already take English lessons at school, so it looks like I will just be helping them with their homework, conversation, and pronunciation. My very first French class almost 2 years ago was firmly rooted in conversation and I think in most cases it's the most efficient way to learn. Especially when you're dealing with two languages as phonetically different as English and French, it's good to just get the words in your mouth.

Today I'll be starting work with another family who I'll see 4-6 hours a week. They have three daughters; 5,8, and 10, and the girls totally blew me away with their English last time I was at the house. It helps that the family lived in London for 3 years, so the 10 year old especially benefitted from that. They go some American school here once a week and whatever they do over there, it's working. The parents just want me to keep them talking in English.

In a couple weeks I'll start volunteer work for AFEV, an organization here that helps under-privileged children. I'll be giving once-a-week workshops with one or two other volunteers to kids living in the Cité Rouge, the Parisian version of a "project" (although it's probably nicer and safer than whatever you're imagining right now). We talked about giving workshops on the history of the Cité Rouge, dance, yoga, America (that would be me), and some other topics that the kids can help choose. Of course, I'm nervous about my French level, since kids use so much slang and speak so quickly, but I'm hoping it will be a learning experience for all involved.

I guess that's it for now. The weeks are flying by and I'm really excited for my upcoming Madrid and Strasbourg/Stuttgart trips. But before that, I've gotta get through the first round of exams. Wish me luck!

xoxo,

Alina :)

Not much to talk about, plenty to say.

2009-11-02T21:30:00.000+01:00

Probably a boring post this week; just a lot of administrative/academic stuff, and I got a little lethargic with the rainy weather. After Pittsburgh I told myself I'd never live in a climate like that again. But here I am! Oh well, I think Paris is worth it. And it actually shouldn't be nearly as bad. I think?

Two weeks ago I was raving about Wednesdays as my happy day. I think that was some kind of jinx. Last week I was forced out of my phonetics class, and this past week I decided to drop my dance class. I love love love modern dance, but that class...let's just say it wasn't my thing. It was frustrating to have to drop the class but I knew I'd just get more frustrated if I forced myself to go every week. If anyone happens to know of good studios here, lemme know!
Later that night I realized that my emails from my fancy French address hadn't been forwarding to my trusty yahoo account. I should have known not to trust my university here with my email address; they've only had a website for a year.

Uh-huh.
As the punk high school kids my friend Matteo teaches tell him: "Bienvenue en France" - "Welcome to France"! It's endearing, really.

The email thing shouldn't have been stressful except that I was waiting for confirmation on a couple upcoming trips. Oh yeah, I've got tickets to Germany (near Stuttgart, I'm going with my German friend Anja to her house) by way of Strasbourg (2 hour train layover = 2 hour tour of the city). But before that, Madrid for Thanksgiving to visit my American friend Anthony who is doing an exchange there this year. How do you say YAY in Spanish? Arriba?

Anyway at the end of this album (click here) are some pictures of my trip to the museum Quai Branly this past Sunday with some french amigos. Laurence - host-mom - works there! I gather that she's in charge of works that the museum lends out. So she travels occasionally. The museum houses art from Africa, The Americas, Asia, and Oceania. So, non-European art. It's a new museum, apparently the brain-child (or at least a project of) Chirac, and when Laurence started working there the museum didn't exist - it was a gallery with a staff of 5 people. Now, Musée Quai Branly is huge, and sits practically underneath the Eiffel Tower. Wouldn't it be awesome if we could all work for an organization that saw its dream realized like that?
The permanent collection seemed impressive to me; I was surprised by the span of it. They had stuff from 4 or 5 centuries BC but also lots of recent stuff (up to the later 20th century). This museum would be (and probably is) any anthropologist's paradise. I enjoyed wandering the permanent collection but I have to say that I strongly preferred the exhibition of Iranian photographs. Iran has a photographic history dating from the late 19th century, although virtually none of those photos exist today. Photographic scrapbooks were apparently a popular gift for the Shah in the late 1800s/early 1900s. Later, photographs became required for official documents and families started getting annual photos taken. At first people were positioned on benches, surrounded by pots of geraniums, but in the mid-1900s Iranians started to imitate European portraits, using baroque-style furniture. I guess I've just always thought of Iran as something so separate from Europe that I was surprised to read about their emulation of certain European traditions. I bet there are some grown-ups out their rolling their eyes. I'm sure I'm hitting all sorts of historical soft-spots here. Forgive me; I've never been good at history!
Anyway Iranian photographers got their big break documenting political/social conflict and the medium is still primarily used as a commentary on Iranian society (although it's often subtle). You can read a little bit more about the exhibition - and see more photos - by clicking here.
To learn more about Quai Branly in general, click here.

That album up there (here it is again) has also got some Halloween pictures. On Saturday I took a tour of the Chinese quarter - Chinatown in Paris! It was interesting although as usual I had a hard time paying attention to the guide (I think this is linked to my inaptitude for history) but it was nice to just walk around. We got to go into a couple temples, which was the best part. Besides the yummy food, of course!
About 30 minutes into the tour I noticed Zina and Catherine (Italian and English, respectively) had joined the group. They're even more chronically late than I am so they were rushing up to us, all flustered, but as soon as we recognized each other it was all smiles. Quite a chance happening, I think...especially since they ended up convincing me to go to this Halloween party later that night. I went as a cowgirl; not original, but I've had things besides a costume on my mind lately. PLUS, though it would have been a complete cop-out in Texas, my denim jumper/dress with newly-purchased black heeled-boots and long pigtails actually somewhat passed as a costume here. I definitely got weird looks on the metro, anyway. I think long blonde pigtails are just too much for Parisians. I felt like everyone was looking at me, thinking, "but where are all her black clothes?"
The party felt like any "college experience" in the States -- it was a house party, insanely crowded, cigarettes being one of many fire hazards, about 120 degrees fahrenheit, an equal number of bottles of alcohol, AND the police came. Yeehaw!
The only difference was the lack of English. I met even more Italians (who upheld the standard of being the most easy-going and fun-loving people at the party - see pictures) and my very first real-live Swedish friend (who spoke english with a prominent American accent thanks to many episodes of Sex and the City. Most people you encounter here speak British English so it was a surprise for me).

Well, I've somehow managed to drag this out; thanks for reading!

A la prochaine,
Alina :)

Classes: So one stops. Also, Mont St. Michel and a belle promenade.

2009-10-25T22:36:00.004+01:00

GAH Sunday again already!

This week was going smoothly until 4PM Wednesday afternoon rolled around and my "hilarious" phonetics professor (see last week's post) waltzed into class to announce that she was kicking me out! I mentioned before that the room is way too small for that many students, so her solution was to kick out anyone who hadn't taken the placement exam. The thing about the placement exam is that it was for ERASMUS students who took it in order to be placed into levels for a french language intensive the 2 weeks before school started. I was already in a MICEFA intensive, so I didn't see any reason to take the test. I can understand why she had to pare down the class a bit, but it was pretty infuriating that
a) she didn't just send me an email after she made the decision (she made everyone fill out a contact sheet last week) so I wouldn't waste my time coming to class that day
b) she didn't just send me an email after she made the decision so I wouldn't waste my money on the book
c) she didn't just send me an email after she made the decision -- I could have been looking for another class in the meantime
d) I was the one kicked out of class on a technicality, while other ERASMUS students waltzed in up to 30 minutes late and sans-book.

The people at MICEFA weren't very pleased with what happened, either. But in the end, I think this will be a good thing. It means that I can (hopefully) move into the upper-level dance class; I mentioned that the lower level one was pretty easy. And the class I luckily was able to add is Advanced Grammar, another MICEFA course, which I had originally wanted to take anyway (choosing phonetics instead basically because AG meets on Fridays, yuck) and which will be much more useful to me at this point in my love affair with French. Nonetheless, I was disappointed to be treated this way and can now say I've seen the infamously ugly side of university administration here. The fact that no one thought to just cap the class instead of allowing too many students to register, and the fact that the professor can decide on a whim to kick certain (prepared and qualified) students to the curb...well, it's just a little ridiculous.
PS. She kicked Johannes out too. If there's anything worse than making an exception, it's making an exception then reneging!

After the stress of Wednesday afternoon I was sooo grateful that Claire (another UT student spending the year here) had organized a little Mexican Fiesta at her place. I helped make the guacamole while sipping a margarita (there was only one bottle of tequila at a HUGE grocery store) and enjoying surprisingly tasty tortilla chips and so-so salsa (from a can, what can we expect?). Later that night I headed over to Stefania's place (patient Italian girl I mentioned last week) for another get-together. I met some of Stefania's friends there, including an Irish girl who is getting her doctorate in Theology, a British architecture student doing an internship here, and Zina, another Italian who is also half Russian. So, 3 anglophones and 2 italophones...but we managed to keep it French (and occasionally Italian). It was a very pleasant evening. :)

My Italian has been making a comeback this week, thanks to Wednesday night and also Thursday night, when I met up with Marco again (remember him from a few weeks ago?). We spoke English last time, so this time it was me in the hot-seat. Luckily the wheels were greased a little on Wednesday night! We chatted over a light dinner before seeing "Mary and Max", an animated Australian film -- but not for kids. The film was good but pretty dark, so I'm not sure how popular it will be in the States. If you have the chance, see it!

On Saturday I went to Mont Saint Michel -- it's a little island/peninsula sticking off the west coast of France. It's in lower-Normandy, and I believe it marks the division between Normandy and Brittany. This is where the 1990 movie MindWalk (one of my dad's favorites) was filmed. I've seen MindWalk at least 3 times and now that I've been here I'd like to watch it yet again. Mont St. Michel is pretty isolated -- not easy to get there by train -- so MICEFA organized the optional trip. Despite its isolation, it was packed with tourists, although I bet there's a totally different vibe during the week. In other news, I think I might be getting acclimated to the colder temperatures and the rain. I'm even starting to enjoy it...remind me of that come February!
The tour guide apparently was unable to speak louder than 10 decibels (as Johanna said, "I'm FRENCH and I can't hear what he's saying"), so Stefania and I decided to explore the place by ourselves (which I think is always the better option unless you're at the Vatican. Seriously. Get a tour if you go there). Our conversation might not have been as high-falutin' as that of the MindWalk characters, but it was yet another chance to speak Italian, as well as help Stefania with her English.
Photo time:

To see all my Mont St. Michel photos, click here (they're at the end of that album, starting in the middle of page 5).

To see photos of today's Sunday stroll in the 5th/6th, click here (starts in the middle of the first page, after the photo of my metro stop).

Keep your fingers crossed that I get to stay in all my classes this week!

--Alina :)

Classes: so they begin.

2009-10-18T16:05:00.005+02:00

Classes started last week, giving me enough new material for a thin novel. I'm not sure if anyone, even my parents, will have the tenacity or interest to get through this MONSTER of a blog post, but there is some good stuff in here, at least in my opinion. This more than makes up for last week's decidedly short post...so go ahead: read, skim, or just look at the pictures, but send me your good vibes (and iced tea)!

I finished blogging around midnight last Sunday night and woke up 6 hours later to get ready for class, which was at 8. I arrived about 20 minutes early and was greeted by a locked building and a few students who told me they were grand débutants -- beginners in Italian. We were all waiting outside the Italian department, which is located down the street from the actual university, and I had only seen one classroom in the department. My class wasn't supposed to be for beginners, so I began to wonder if I was in the right place. More students showed up for different Italian classes, but no one mentioned the title of my course. Hmmm...
Of course, the sun hadn't yet managed to peek above the buildings and it was probably the coldest morning yet (although I can't say I've seen 6AM many times since getting here). Around 7:55 a man let himself into the building. We started to follow him in, but he turned around to tell us that the building wasn't open yet. "But it's cold!" we pleaded. Everyone had dressed his/her best for the first day, which meant lots of ballerina flats and light sweaters. The man grudgingly agreed to let us wait in the lobby. We piled in and, against his orders, called the elevator down so we could start our ascent, about 4 students at a time, up to the 5th floor where the Italian department is located. Just as the elevator doors opened and people started to get in, a woman came to the door, explaining she was a professor in the department, and asked us to follow her to another entrance to the building, where we could take the stairs. Well, that door was locked too, and when we returned the first door, it had indeed re-locked after we left. By then it was 8 o'clock, time for class to start, except we still had no access to a classroom...and I was still confused as to why students from at least 3 different courses, all starting at the same time, were all waiting outside a department with only 1 classroom. The professor headed over to the actual university to find a custodian and they returned around 8:15. We all filed up the stairs and into the 5th floor classroom. I asked the professor what class this was. "Literature of the 19th and 20th centuries," she replied. So it was my class. But not anyone else's: upon hearing the news, every single other student filed back out of the classroom, back down the stairs, and over to the university to look up his/her class on a big board where class times and rooms are posted. Left alone with the professor, who started grilling me, in Italian, about my background in the language ("what Italian authors have you read?"), I was grateful when one other student showed up about 5 minutes later. I hadn't spoken Italian in a couple weeks and was having serious trouble pulling it up to the front of my brain. It's the French infiltration!
About 10 more students showed up around 9:30. The class-time had changed from 9 to 8, which they weren't aware of (but I somehow was), and no doubt those students had wasted at least 20 minutes wandering the halls of the university center down the street...lo and behold, I was actually more prepared than the French students! So that was my first day of Italian, yeehaw!

French class later in the day seemed like a breeze. My Balzac reading at Place des Vosges last Saturday paid off!

Tuesday was another Italian class: Renaissance Literature. The nice thing I've discovered about the Italian department here is that everyone knows each other, including the professors, who taught many of the students last year. But the downside is...everyone knows each other. As if my ridiculously blonde hair and pale skin don't draw enough attention, I am also usually the 1 person that wasn't in class last year. The Renaissance professor was super nice, though; she even asked me if it was okay if she spoke French! ...I'm not sure what would have happened if I had said no, but it was nice to receive a warm welcome in any case. First she discussed the class syllabus and grading in French...and then we opened our brochures and she...continued lecturing in French. Oh no. Italian literature taught in French?! Not only was this too much for my brain to handle, but it definitely wouldn't transfer as an upper-division Italian credit. I quietly sat through the rest of class then sent the prof an email explaining my situation. So next week I'll be adding a class...after that I had lunch with a might-be-new friend, Maëlle, who is French but has lived in Germany, Spain, Uruguay, and Mexico. Her dad is an engineer, I believe, and she's followed him around the world as he's been transferred. Now she's in Paris, where she says she feels a bit like a foreigner. She doesn't speak much English, although I think she speaks more than she lets on, but she's worked writing the French subtitles for media in English. As is usual with the French people I meet, she wanted to know what I think about Paris and what I've found to be the main differences between France and US culture. I still haven't found a good way to explain that, not even in English...

I can already tell that Wednesday will be my weekly happy day: it marks the end of my school week AND is a day of exercise and hilarious french phonetics!
Having stayed up into the wee hours of the morning finishing a UT scholarship application (which will probably, like all other UT scholarships I've applied for, pan out into nothing), I dragged myself out of bed around 7:30 to get ready for yoga. One thing I've discovered about the French is that they really love extracurricular activities; Maurice is a member of a sailing association here in Paris (although they obviously have to do some traveling to sail), and Laurence is on a softball team, plus she recently informed me that she takes yoga classes at the Museum where she works. Still haven't deciphered exactly how that works, but I gather it's some kind of benefit for the employees, who pay very little for the classes. Most universities offer similar opportunities to their students (they are free at Paris III), which isn't all that unusual for a university, I suppose...but the method of getting into the class was pretty interesting...
I arrived right on time at 9AM to yet another locked door, except this one was heavily surrounded by girls who were clearly also waiting for the class I had come to take. The other girls were all sitting or leaning against the walls of the hallway around the door, which left me little choice but to wait directly in front of it. That turned out to work in my favor. Within seconds the teacher arrived, babbling something about traffic and fumbling with a set of about 20 keys. Luckily she found the correct key quickly, and we all piled into the room. The course description said something about hot yoga (yoga in a 96-106 degree fahrenheit room, which is what I did all last year in Austin), but I figured that was too good to be true. Indeed, the room was freezing, and some students rushed to shut the half-open windows while the teacher began to call names of students who had pre-registered for the class and who would be taking it for credit. I wasn't on that list, so I signed another one she had started for those taking the class for loisirs - hobby/pleasure. Being one of the first people into the room, I was also one of the first on that list, and thus was able to change, grab a mat, and claim a spot on the floor while at least 30 girls waited to do the same. The room filled up rapidly and when the teacher could see that there was no more space on the floor, she had to turn at least 15 girls away. I felt guilty, but my muscles were already rejoicing in their first real streching in literally 6 weeks, so I stayed put. The instructor began the class with a short introduction to yoga, since many in the class are beginners, only some of which I caught, being seated at the back of the room and...not being fluent in French, much less the more specialized terms of yoga. I'm pretty sure she said something derogatory about how "hip" yoga is in the States these days, having preceeded that statement by asking if there were any Americans in the room, to which I did not raise my hand, not wishing to draw unnecesary attention to myself (and possibly my non-fluency) in front of 40 strangers with whom I'll be passing many hours during the rest of the semester. Attention would be drawn to me soon enough, however, when about 10 minutes into class she asked me to demonstrate a pose. Bruce, my instructor at Bodhi Yoga, where I took class last year, wasn't really keen on making examples out of people in class. So as many yoga classes as I've taken, it WOULD be during my first one in France that the professor asks me to demonstrate a pose!

After lunch that day, I headed back over to Paris III to try to get into a dance class. I had told myself to arrive early, since there would probably be just as much interest, just as little space, and I couldn't expect to get so lucky twice in a row. Well, I arrived right on time anyway, and this time the door was already surrounded. My individualistic instincts took over as I kept my eye out for the teacher and pushed toward the door as soon as she arrived. This instructor was smart, however, to stop everyone at the door. She began calling down the list of pre-registered students who would be receiving a grade, of which there were 15 or 20. She finished the list and took a look around at the remaining 30 or so of us who were all hoping to take the class as loisirs. "The first day is always rough," she grumbled. There was really nothing else to do but let the people in front into the room. She started counting us off in 4s and I miraculously was in the second group to go in. I couldn't believe my luck as I went into the dressing room before taking a spot on the floor.
The class was a nice follow-up to my morning yoga, although there are a lot of grand débutants, so the pace was pretttyyyy sloowwwwww. Oh well, it's a chance to focus on technique, keep those muscles loose, and make some friends.

Right after that was my first phonetics class, for which I was pre-enrolled, a good thing because the class is more-than full. It's a class with ERASMUS (the European exchange) students, complete with another Alina. :)
The professor is hilarious and very well-suited to teaching foreigners, which she's apparently been doing for years. She had us cracking up with her imitations of Italians speaking French (pronouncing all the mysteriously silent syllables) and re-tellings of her dealings with French university administration. One of those was a year-long battle to get our current classroom fixed, a process which involved a petition from last year's students. Apparently the windows had no blinds and wouldn't open, while the doors wouldn't close. I guess Madame Capps is pretty adaptable if she could teach 50 students (in a classroom meant for 30) in that environment. She's pretty quirky; she told us that she hates blue pens and that she doesn't use the blackboard at the back of the room because one panel is green while the rest are black. She also does a very good, if cringe-worthy, American accent, having spent time on the west coast. I think it's going to be a fun year.

France is a place where if you ask the same question 3 times to the same person, you will probably get 3 different answers, in the bureaucratic world at least. I saw this process at work during my phonetics class when a German student showed up to take the class, claiming he had pre-enrolled but not appearing on the roster. Turns out he had been dropped from the class because he hadn't scored highly enough in a placement exam of sorts. "The director of the program told me, there can be no exceptions, we must drop all students in groups A and B. The class is too advanced for you, I'm sorry," said Madame Capps, indicating that Johannes should leave. Well, Johannes didn't leave. Either he's very stubborn or he didn't understand that he was supposed to leave (more likely, since Capps gave a pretty wordy explanation). Capps continued to take roll and deal with other late-comers. Later during class, when Capps noticed Johannes copying down the assignment for next class, she again explained that he must leave. But then something happened. Literally in the middle of her request for him to leave, Madame changed course and told him she would take him on as a trial student. So it looks like "no exceptions" is really just an invitation to make one. Or two: did I mention that I never took the placement test?

Wednesday night Anja and I headed to the Stade de France on the outskirts of inner Paris (if that makes sense) to see France play Austria in SOCCER, duh! Pauline, who lives near the stadium and also had tickets, met us at the metro and we walked to her place for dinner. It was nice to see Pauline and Mamadou again; I haven't seen them since early September! Yikes! But all that time between visits made it all the more obvious that my French is making great strides; I found it much easier to converse with them, and Pauline never got frustrated enough to switch to English. Success!
I'm glad I got to experience the atmosphere of a european soccer match, although the conditions could have been better: it was FREEZING, and our tickets were at the very very top of the very big stadium. I will say that security actually seemed more evident here than at (the few) sporting events I've been to in the States: people dressed in neon orange coats were seated around the field at perhaps 5 meter intervals, and there were plenty more neon coats strategically placed within the stands. We got there just as the French national anthem was playing, but apparently right before that, two guys had run onto the field only to be chased down by some guards. During the game, I watched as a fight broke out in the stands below me, only to be broken up by more neon coats.

Food seemed to play a much smaller part in this event than it does at MinuteMaid or Reliant stadium. Most food stands were actually outside the park, and I only saw 2 cafes, both at ground level, within it. No vendors wandered the stands and no one around us was consuming anything. That's fine with me, as I don't exactly have the budget for stadium-prices. A hot chocolate would have been nice, though!

And yeah, France won :)

Thursday flew by as I ran around town picking up books, notebooks, and folders for class, inscribing myself at a library right next to the Pantheon (sweet), and doing I-don't-even-remember what else. I seem to be experiencing good karma lately; in my jam-packed day I left myself just enough time to get to the library and pick up my card upon presentation of my proof-of-residence. Unfortunately there was a group of about 6 german-speaking students in front of me. Time was ticking, the line wasn't moving, and I had another appointment in 30 minutes. I figured I'd used up all my good luck getting into the dance and yoga classes and was just about to dash off to my appointment sans-library card when one of the german students said something that caused the entire group to leave the line. Suddenly I was next in line, and thus made it to my next appointment early. Life semi-on-my-own here is sometimes hard, but little lucky breaks like that make the day so much easier.
Thursday night I met another new frenchie friend, Parvine, who studied in New York with the MICEFA and was kind enough to contact the American MICEFA students to offer her friendship and advice exploring Paris. I'm always nervous before these 1-on-1 encounters, because so much hinges on each person. It's not enough to merely follow the conversation, as I often do at dinner, for example; I have to contribute nearly half of the material! Luckily, Parvine is super nice and understands the difficulties of learning a new language. We chatted over our 4.5 euro coca-colas until it was time for me to head over to Los Mexicanos, a mexican restaurant where some MICEFA students had organized a surprise birthday party for our friend Analeise, who is from Louisiana. The Texan in Andy - and partially in me - came out in full force as we criticized the utter lack of enough chips and salsa and the inauthenticity (by tex-mex standards, anyway) of our burritos. Has anyone ever had mushrooms in a burrito? Didn't think so.
The piña colada was good, however ;)
It was quite an enjoyable evening; the loud music and live dancing in the middle of the floor gave us an excuse to be the loud, obnoxious Americans that we are.

Friday I had the much-needed opportunity to practice some Italian when I went to visit my new friend Stefania (Italian) at the house she is taking care of this month (not a bad deal). Stefania wants to be a teacher, and it shows: her patience was amazing as the Italian wheels in my brain began a slow and unsteady rotation. Each time I would get flustered with a grammatical construction or vocabulary, which was approximately every 5 seconds, it was "tranquilla" -- calm down -- as she helped me search for a way to express my thought. She claims she'll have me talking like an Italian by the time she leaves in February...I'm doubtful (of my aptitude, not hers), but willing to participate in the experiment!

Tranquilla -- this post is almost over. Saturday night I joined the Texas Exes France chapter to watch UT claim victory over OU. I'm not much of a sports fan, but this is a game that I usually give at least a moderate amount of attention, partially because of family tradition (my dad was born and raised in Austin), and maybe also because I had a friend in middle school who was a Sooner fan. Marshall is a big guy, but for his birthday way back when I bought him a tiny little Sooner tank-top (spaghetti straps, made for a girl). We've lost touch since, but the rivalry remains. The game was broadcast live at the Great Canadian Bar near Place Saint Michel, where all the waitresses are American or Canadian and I spoke English without qualms. It was nice to meet some fellow Texans, some non-Texans who took interest, and even a Danish guy who was invited by friends. I think he and the few French people in the bar were pretty confused about the rules and pretty horrified at the violence of the sport...and by our sloppy but enthused renditions of TEXAS-FIGHT and "The Eyes of Texas".

And that's where I'll end. Time to do homework...

Oh yeah, it's 16:03 in Paris and OU STILL SUCKS!

Hook 'em,

Alina :)

Endfinite Summer

2009-10-11T22:32:00.000+02:00

Well, tonight marks the end of what has been a 5-month summer. Classes at UT ended in mid-May, and tomorrow, October 12th, classes will FINALLY start at Paris III. Meanwhile, facebook statuses (stati? I always debate this) from the States inform me that many students are already on Fall Break and gearing up for midterms. Other students are looking a little further ahead towards study abroad plans for the Spring, which makes sense, since we'll be getting a whole new batch of etrangers in January. Ahh!
I guess it's been a nice long summer...except I have no idea where those "extra" 2 months went. Actually, applying for a French visa probably equates to scraping a couple months off your life...

The weather got gross this week, which put an end to my daytrips, although we should have a few more sunny days left before the sun se couche for the winter. The weather did give me a good excuse to use my unlimited cinema pass: I saw a film about Arabs in Israel (politically-charged, obviously, but very artistic) as well as a somewhat-rough but nonetheless enjoyable Portuguese film. Unsurprisingly it made me want to take up Portuguese, which sounded quirky in a beautiful way to my untrained ear. I've had a good time checking out the little art-house cinemas in the area and I think I've already found my favorite: the Nouveau Latina, just a 15 minute walk from my place and in a pretty laid-back area of town where locals dominate over tourists. (Am I still considered a tourist? Don't answer that.) A guy and his girlfriend conversed on the sidewalk, he reclining on the 2 seats of his motorcycle parked on the sidewalk, she hovering next to him. Hmm. I'd never thought of a motorcycle as a couch before.

After a week of clouds and rain, Saturday was miraculously gorgeous, and all of Paris went outside to soak it up. I planted myself at one of the many cafes around the Place des Vosges (luckily only a 5-minute walk from my place), ordered my 4.5 euro pot of Jasmine Tea, and settled in to read up on Balzac, the first author we'll be studying in my MICEFA post-revolution Literature and Politics class. That's the first time I've done the whole "study-at-a-cafe" thing here, and I was a little nervous about whether I had picked an appropriate place and time to occupy a table for a couple of hours. I seemed to be attracting the glances of a couple waiters, and I was sure they were discussing how annoying it is when customers do this. But later, as the sun dipped below some clouds and I reached for my sweater, one of them was suddenly at the heat-lamp next to me asking if I wanted him to turn it on. So I think I misinterpreted their conversation, just as I think they misinterpreted my furtive, please-don't-kill-me-for-sitting-here-and-not-ordering-a-meal glances as invitations to turn up the heat, so to speak. So that might be a good place to go back to...too bad the prices aren't as cute as the waiters.

Athina, Laurence's 3-year-old grand-daughter, stayed with us this weekend. Like most little girls, she's fascinated by an older girl (and it helps that we're both blonde and have similar names). She thoroughly inspected my room, focusing on my jewelry and hair accessories, and my desk, although I think she only likes the desk because that's where the sticky notes are. She saw me sitting here typing at my computer one day, legs covered in my throw blanket. Later she wandered back in (on the pretense of getting my help tying her shoes) to try it out for herself. Sitting at my open computer, her tiny legs swallowed by the blanket which protected her from a non-existent draft, she declared "C'est sympa, ta chambre" - it's nice, your room. Glad I've got that stamp of approval!

Other accomplishments this week:
-acquired a lightly-used copy of The Little Prince, which I've been waiting to read in French. This took me on the first of an anticipated many trips to Gibert Jeune, the major new/used bookstore in Paris.

-My quartier is now graced by the presence of several petites annonces, flyers I made to try to find people to teach English to. No calls yet, but my fingers are crossed!

-While searching the classifieds for people looking for english teachers, I found a family looking for a live in nanny who say they live in a castle.  That's just not something you'd see  in the Daily Texan.

On that note, I'd better think about going to bed, since my first class is tomorrow at 8AM (ouch).  Have a great week, everyone!

Writing from my sympa chambre,
Alina :)

More of the Good Life: Traveling and (Dinner)Partying

2009-10-05T00:59:00.003+02:00

Bonjour tout le monde!

I decided to take advantage of my free time before classes start AND the continuing good weather over here to do a bit of traveling. With Dominika as my traveling companion, I've visited 3 of the 8 daytrip cities listed in the back of my guide book! Yay, check marks abound!

We started the week off with Fontainebleau, a somewhat lesser-known castle about an hour outside Paris. French kings have used the area around the chateau as hunting grounds since the 12th century, but Fontainebleau was more recently the site of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes (1685) and the births and marriages of several French kings. In 1814, Napoleon signed his abdication here and bid farewell to his troops (and Empire) in the central courtyard, now called the Cour Des Adieux (aww...). It was a low-key adventure; we spent the first part of the day exploring the relatively uncrowded grounds, gardens, and castle before dining in a cafe in the city itself. Photo-time!

Next up was Giverny. It is said that Monet saw the village of Giverny while passing it on a train and decided right away that he wanted to live there. I can imagine why -- walking down the quiet cobble-stone streets really was like going back in time (and was definitely a relief from the pace of Paris!). Monet moved here with his 8 children in 1883, and many fellow artists followed suit, effectively turning the town into an artist's colony. His old house is now a museum to his life and work, retaining many of his furnishings. The huge garden attracts as many bees and butterflies as it does visitors, and sitting quietly by the lily pond, it felt as if we'd stepped into one of Monet's paintings. What a beautiful day:

Wednesday was a day of academic-figuring-out -- I got a LOT accomplished (uh, I think), but also encountered a couple truly frustrating people -- details about which I will spare you! It's stressful to feel like I don't really know what's going on, but I find solace in the fact that even most professors at Paris III do not yet have their schedules! So it's not just me...French students are clueless as well. Hooray for bureaucracy!

Thursday: Versailles. I am sad to say that this was one of my LEAST favorite outings so far. The weather was indecisive, yet there were still hordes of people, and the employees at the castle seriously need a vacation. Unlike at Fontainebleau and Giverny, I had a pretty hard time tapping in to the ambiance and getting a feel for what this place felt like to Louis XIV, et al. However, the scale of Versailles should be enough to impress even the most weary tourist. You all know what it looks like, but here are some photos anyway:

It was a rather laid-back weekend...by which I mean: I was never awake for more than 16 consecutive hours. Saturday night was Laurence's birthday party. Attendees included Laurence, Maurice, Camille, and myself, as well as Laurence's daughter Hélène and her husband Jean-Phillipe and HIS two children Philipine and Axèle (girl and boy, respectively...French names are pretty confusing), their 3-year-old daughter Athina (pronounced Atina), and Laurence's oldest child, David. Much of Saturday was spent in preparation; I helped Laurence with two berry-filled cakes (yum!) and later sliced cucumbers, avocado (!), mozzarella and cherry tomatoes for Maurice's salad.

We started the evening with appetizers: Monster Munch (ostensibly for the kids, although the adults nibbled on it as well), small bread slices with a tuna spread (paté? I'm still confused by all the names, especially since I don't really cook), and small cups of deliciousness which I believe were procured at Picard, a store which sells only frozen goods which you either cook or, in many cases, simply leave to thaw a few hours before you want to eat. It's pretty weird to walk into a supermarket with nothing but freezers, but by all accounts, this is just another bizarre-but-awesome French novelty.

Of course, we started the evening with 2 bottles of champagne. Since only 5 of us were drinking (David doesn't drink), that made for about 3 glasses each. Then there was a full bottle of red with the salad, another bottle with the main course (lamb and rice), and a third bottle for the cheese ("Laurence limited me to 5 cheeses!" Maurice lamented). That makes five bottles for an average of one bottle per person. Thank goodness we were eating! How the French do it, I can only hope to discover. Meanwhile, I tried to stay quiet so as not to embarrass myself! Anyway, it was a very enjoyable meal in good company. As it turns out, Jean-Phillipe is half-Italian, and speaks the language (although we stuck to French at the table - I believe I correctly fielded all questions directed my way. I am quickly learning the art of using context clues to guess what might have just been asked. The frustrating thing, at this point, is more my lack of vocabulary than anything else. Anyone know of a good book for every-day French vocab?). Unfortunately, the only photos I got documented the aftermath we all woke up to this morning (or, ahem, this afternoon):

Athina took quite a liking to me, it seems. I guess it's a pretty good sign when a 3-year-old can understand you, since I wouldn't assume she's very experienced with non-native speakers. Then again, playing with her was another reminder of how many words I simply do not know! Children have their own separate vocabulary.

For more pictures of my travels, including coverage of the "Authentic Houston" restaurant we discovered in Fontainebleau, click here.

For pictures of my solo wanderings this week (St. Germain des Pres/Odeon), click here.

I guess that's enough for now. If the weather holds up, I'll make a couple more daytrips next week while continuing to wage my battle against the french university administration. Wish me luck!

Happy Monday,

Alina :)

Protests, English, Gardens.

2009-09-28T01:06:00.003+02:00

Ah! Another week has FLOWN by! I have a feeling many posts will begin like this...

A bit about my university.
I will be attending The University of Paris III, otherwise known as the "New Sorbonne". The "Sorbonne" you always hear about is actually now called Paris IV. The University of Paris was restructured after the events of May 1968, when 11 million French workers went on strike for about two weeks. Charles de Gaulle, President at the time, went into hiding in Germany, surfacing only to publicly dismiss the National Assembly. Students and workers alike revolted against an increasingly consumerist society and the "bourgeois" National Assembly; growing unrest from previous months snowballed into "the largest general strike that ever stopped the economy of an advanced industrial country" and the first ever "wildcat general strike".
The strike is directly traced to a student protest held in late March of 68 at the University of Paris at Nanterre (now Paris X, west of the city) where students held a peaceful meeting to discuss "class discrimination in French society and the political bureaucracy that controlled the school's funding." Police surrounded the school, and the students posted their complaints before leaving. However, confrontations at Nanterre escalated, and the University was shut down on May 2. The next day, students met at the Sorbonne to protest Nanterre's closure and the threatened expulsion of students who had participated in the meetings. The Sorbonne, in turn, was shut down. When it reopened, students occupied it, declaring it a "People's University". By then, many other schools and factories throughout France were occupied; by May 28th, two-thirds of the French work force was involved and the country had come to a standstill. Finally, Charles de Gaulle made a radio announcement at the end of June (the National television service was also on strike), dissolving the National Assembly and calling for re-elections one month later, and ordering strikers to return to work.
Although the strike is considered to have been a political failure (de Gaulle was reelected shortly after), it is cited as a turning point for French society, when a conservative moral ideal (religion, patriotism, respect for authority) shifted to a more liberal one (equality, sexual liberation, human rights). Ah, the basis of so many French stereotypes is revealed!
The students in particular were sick of the stuffy and pedantic teachings of the high-school and University system, which, from what I know, hasn't experienced a complete turn-around. Their sentiments are best-expressed through the graffiti painted during the revolt:
"Live without dead time."
"Boredom is counterrevolutionary."
"In a society that has abolished every kind of adventure the only adventure that remains is to abolish the society."

Hmm. I should remember some of those for the future.
Anyway, the Sorbonne Nouvelle is supposed to be a less-traditional, more relaxed/humane, and generally friendlier approach to learning. I think the main thing it's known for today, however, is the hideous buildings.

This first semester, I'm planning to take two Italian courses here, while my two French courses will be taught through the MICEFA. Students are expected to have read all material for the French lit. courses before class starts, and while most university students read Molière in high school, it's not realistic for me to get through 5 to 10 works of French literature in the next 2 weeks.

Classes start October 12th. I'll keep you posted!

(Many thanks to this wikipedia article for much of the info above and for all quotations.)

***Concerning the "info" above -- I've been humbled in the form of an email from a fellow American who probably knows more about France than many French people:

"The wikipedia article on the "events" of 1968 is a bit of Dada fiction, an example of why you can use Wikipedia but should not trust it. I I'll bet the French language version is very, very different. All the "facts" at the top of the article are drawn from a very small, short-lived anarchic journal with little influence, the "Situationist International" . Follow the link; the Wikipedia article on SI is fairly accurate. The student-led demonstrations were a real disaster for the left; the public, including the working class public, was disgusted, so De Gaulle called an election and won big. Check out the local libraries and bookstores for a book in French that gives the real story (good reading practice too), or, better, ask the family you are staying with what they remember. Just like the death of Diane was greeted by the average Parisian with at first sympathy then: "Idiots! 200 km/hr on the Quai? Thank god she only killed herself!", the student revolt was at first greeted with some sympathy then with: "those fools just cut down all the trees on the Blvd. St. Michel to make barricades!". You can see all the new trees... only 40 years old now. There was apparently one tree by the southeast corner of the Luxemburg Garden the students didn't dare cut down... it was filled with bullets from the August, 1944 revolt- the real revolt. The tree looked old and sick when it was pointed out to me years ago and it may be gone now (I don't remember seeing it recently). But the last building in the park before the southeast corner still has the gouges where the Free French militia machine gun bullets splattered while they were trying to dig out the last of the German snipers hiding inside. It's the only place in Paris I know of which still shows war damage."

I recently read some study which found that an outrageous number of students are getting information for research papers from Wikipedia. I scoffed at the idea and now I feel silly! That being said, I definitely would have fact-checked before I submitted anything like this in a class...but I probably should have fact-checked before spreading some bad information to my *hundreds* of readers! Anyway, it's a rather romantic story, and does have some basis in truth. Thanks for the info, Dave! Some day when I am feeling particularly curious I will check out some more (french) sources on this.

Moving on...

My "intensive" French course is finally over, and I can't say I'm the least bit depressed. Apparently our professor is about to retire - this might have been her last class ever - and it seemed as if she was already retired. She didn't prepare nearly enough material to occupy 3 hours of class time 5 days a week (for a total of 45 hours in class), so we spent about 75% of the time listening to her ramble. I spoke my mind in the class evaluation, which I wrote before I heard that she was retiring, so I kind of hope she didn't read it. I thought I might be saving future students from hours of idling.

My exploration this week was once-again shopping-minded, although I basically just use that as an excuse to go to different neighborhoods. No purchases (although I do see a loofa and a lip balm refill on the horizon), but I can tell you where to find a 68 euro pair of socks. But they're from Japan! Totally worth it.

Let's just say, "Bon Marché" which is French for a good deal, is soooo NOT a bon marché for those of us without a 6-digit checking account balance.

It was a gorgeous weekend in Paris; many are claiming that this was the last sunny weekend, but I refuse to believe it. I hear it's been raining a lot in Texas; can't say I'm sad that the sun decided to pay us an extended visit before peacing out for a few months.

I spent most of Saturday helping at an English workshop for students of ParisTech, a local engineering school. I was lucky to get assigned to the group which visited the Rodin Museum, which (as Colleen predicted) is definitely one of my favorite spots in Paris. I'll be going back, and I can only hope for a day as gorgeous as this:

It was a pretty interesting visit. We arrived around 9:30, right when the museum opened, and took a look around at the sculptures in the large garden. The group leader, an english teacher from ParisTech, is also a sculptor, so we learned some very interesting stuff about the way sculptures are made, etc. When tourists/visitors started to show up, we split into 2 groups, with one video camera in each, to interview anyone who would speak to us in English. Unfortunately, the only Americans we met were decidedly unfriendly and said they didn't have time. (Then again, I'm not sure what I would have done. I have been surveyed about the death penalty on camera at UT, though!) Nearly everyone else we met acquiesced, so we ended up with about 10 minutes of video to show the rest of the students in the workshop once we got back to the school. We asked the visitors at the garden to describe their home countries without giving the name; so we made a little quiz for the other students. An englishman lamented his country's loss of influence in world affairs while praising it's liberalism, a spaniard spoke of sunny skies and afternoon siestas, a woman from Finland pointed out her country's "perfect" summers, while a couple from Israel said the 3 most prominent characteristics of their country are religion, sun, and food.

I really liked the students in my group: two Italians, a Moroccan, a guy from Lebanon, another from Peru, and one Frenchy (named Wladimir, yes with a W!). It felt awesome to help them with their language acquisition, although by the end of the day I couldn't help speaking a little Italian with Francesco and Armand. Once we got back to the school, lots of students wanted to get my contact information so they could continue to speak to me...in English. I guess they didn't really think about the fact that I probably didn't come to France to speak English! It really seems like everyone here is learning or knows English, which is awesome and comforting, but frustrating a lot of the time. I'm very glad English is my first language, but I'm ready to acquire a second (and a third!).

After going out with Claire, Sarah, and a new french friend on Saturday night, I headed home around 12:30 AM, so tired from a long week (and being sick) that I seriously thought my feet would give out at any moment. 2 Metro transfers, with their abundance of stairs, loomed before me as I headed into Montparnasse/Bienvenue station. I rested my head against the train window and closed my eyes, but somehow didn't miss any stops and finally conquered all 5 flights of stairs in my building. It was another night to fall into bed. But as I stepped onto the landing, I heard voices behind my door. My host-family, awake at 1 AM?

Yep; it was party time in the french house! "Voilà" Laurence said as I closed the door. I was then introduced to Laurence's best friend, Marie, and her husband, Pierre, who sported a Yankees jersey and, as official party DJ, blasted american songs that were popular a couple years ago. Marie and Pierre have 3 sons, the eldest of which is Camille's best friend. Everyone plays softball. In fact, Marie and Laurence asked me about joining their informal league which meets on Tuesday nights. Sometime in the next few days I'll figure out if this was alcohol-inspired eagerness or if the invitation is actually open. Maurice, Laurence's "petit ami" (boyfriend) offered me a shot of "aged rum". Thankfully, I asked how I should drink it (as in, down it or sip it). "Doucement!!!" he cried. "C'est fort!"

I'm pretty sure it was the most potent and bitter drink on the planet. It did nothing, of course, for my aching throat, but I did manage to inspire a hearty laugh from Maurice as I coughed down the first sip.

For maybe the second time, I felt like a true part of the family, surrounded by four inebriated adults, alternating wine rum and espresso, cracking up at Pierre's imitation of the Quebec french accent, debating the sexual orientation of one of Laurence's previous exchange students. Marie and Pierre told me about an Italian family they think I should meet. Sounds good to me! I am already looking forward to Laurence's birthday party, which is next Saturday. She's going to be in Washington D.C. this week, looking after some art from her museum here, so Camille and I might be left in charge of the cake. As Maurice told me, this is a pretty dangerous responsibility!

That brings us to today, or rather yesterday, since blog-writing has taken me into the early hours of next week.

Anja and I took part in the "garden party" happening throughout and around Paris this weekend, an annual festival in which nearly all city gardens and parks offer special activities. Overwhelmed, as usual, with possibilities, I picked 5 closely-located "exceptional openings," religious gardens (attached to convents, etc) which are usually closed to the public. Although most were nothing spectacular, I was happy just to be out in the sun, "profiting from it" as the french say, and speaking french with Anja, which is great practice for both of us (her french is already really good, though). My favorite garden belonged to a convent in the 5th arrondissment:

Despite the way they are stereotyped, and also despite the cultural revolution of the late 60s, France can also be considered a Catholic country; 90% of the population is Catholic, although it is estimated that only about 10% of Parisians and 15% of French citizens in general attend mass regularly. Still, I've read that many French families continue to participate in the major rites, such as baptism and first communion, occasions which they perhaps consider more social than religious. Still, it was interesting to see some of the religious life in Paris.

Afterwards, we went to what might be my favorite restaurant in Paris (not that I have a lot to compare it to...). It's a place near her house that's apparently always packed, with FRENCH people, and I can understand why. I got a huge salad, the "Tandoori", with a salad mix, tandoori chicken, flat fry-like potatoes, cubes of apple, and onions. Sounds strange, was amazing.

Again, here is the public link to my facebook photo album dedicated to September in Paris. Click to the last couple pages to see this week's pictures- my favorites are the Notre Dame at night.

This is my last week before MICEFA classes start, although that only means 2.5 hours of class on Monday since my other MICEFA course (and my Paris III courses) wont start til the week of the 12th.

I want to take advantage of the time off to venture outside Paris, so look out for blog-posts featuring Versailles, Chartres, Giverny, Lyon, and/or Toulouse!

Until next week,

Alina :)

PS. If anyone wants to spend 32 euros on the most gorgeous pair of leggings, let me know. Otherwise I may be giving myself an early christmas gift. Who cares if it's not a bon marché?

Movies, Museums, Moulin Rouge...Baseball.

2009-09-21T18:33:00.000+02:00

Get ready for another monster blog post! I have found that there is no time for homework or sleep in Paris. In this episode: The Moulin Rouge, French baseball, and a boat party on the Seine, among other activities! Read on, svp!

Last week went pretty quickly, between my French course, homework for said course, continuing organization of my life here (read: at least two trips to the bank, purchase and subsequent return of an unneeded electrical device, tights shopping. They are a necessity.), and outside activities.

On Tuesday MICEFA organized a trip to the Carnavalet Museum, set in the former home of Madame de Sévingé dedicated to the history of Paris. Although our tour-guide was very knowledgeable and well-meaning, I would have strongly preferred to explore the museum alone rather than follow her around for what began to seem like hours (and probably was about 1.5), stopping for up to 20 minutes in some rooms. We learned some interesting tidbits, such as how long Paris went without sewers/running water, and how much trouble high-society Parisians went to in order to keep up with the Joneses (although in this case, perhaps the Sévignés were the Joneses). I plan to go back, especially since the museum is free, to spend more time in the garden and looking at more of the art/history.

Directly before that, our professor led my class on a "tour" of Le Marais, my quartier! It was another poorly-organized expedition, since most of us couldn't hear what she was saying (she's also a little bit crazy), but it was very useful to find out how close I live to Place des Vosges, a small public park/square frequented by, as my guidebook points out, "frolicking families, cutesy couples, and snooty French teenagers". This was the birthplace of Madame Sévigné (see above), attracted such nobility as Cardinal Richelieu, and was also home to Victor Hugo -- his old house is now a museum of his life and work. Place des Vosges is Paris's oldest public square and marked the first European project of royal city planning (having been constructed under Henri IV). Of course, I didn't get any pictures (but you can click the hyperlink above); below are some from around the Marais. Many of the shops retain their old signs -- there was a Niké store under a "Boulangère" sign, for example. In one of the photos, you can see the remains of lettering that used to indicate one was in the Marais.

On Wednesday I went to see my first movie in France. It was called "Tu N'aimeras Pont" in French (I still don't understand how that translates) and will probably be called "Eyes Wide Open" in English. It's an Israeli (but also french/german, apparently) movie about a gay Jewish man. It worked out really well because the dialogue was in Hebrew but the subtitles were in French. So I (along with probably most other people in the theatre) just read the subtitles. I only had to ask Pauline about one word, which means "sinner" -- a useful word to know when watching a religious movie. Anyway, I highly recommend the film.

I have quickly learned that wherever you go and whatever you buy in Paris, there is probably some way to get a better deal. For instance, I'm thinking about purchasing an unlimited movie pass valid at over 50 Paris cinemas for just under 20 euros a month. If I go to the movies 3 times a month, it's paid for. After having such a satisfying learning/entertainment experience at my first movie, I'm definitely considering it. Once I get my schedule and get into the rhythm of classes, I think I'll have a better idea whether I would use the pass enough. I also bought acarte 12/25, a French rail pass for young people, guaranteed to save you at least 25% and up to 60% on trains around France. The card is valid for a year and only cost 49 euro. I bought it partially based on the fact that I know several french students who have also invested in it.

It's not that I intend to spend all my time hunting for good deals, but I do think it's awesome that there are so many ways to enjoy yourself here without spending too much. Everyone says Paris is so expensive, and it is, but if you avoid the tourist traps, it (so far) seems pretty reasonable.

On Thursday I went to the office of the CIJP, the International Club for young people in Paris. Membership cost 12 euros, and with that I will have access to lots of events, such as trips around France/Europe (which obviously have a separate fee), language-exchange nights, tours of various arrondissments, museum-trips, and other ways to meet young Frenchies/Internationals. When I was registering, the girl asked if I wanted to go to the boat party happening the following night (Friday). I had seen the event on a CIJP flyer and hadn't been planning to go; besides, none of my other friends had expressed any interest in the party. But I asked the girl if she thought I'd have a good time and meet people even if I didn't have anyone specific to go with. She said the parties were always really fun, and as I still had no official plans for Friday night, I decided to sign up. Cover was only 10 euros and that included 3 drinks, which I can tell you is an insanely good deal in Paris (even if the drinks weren't awesome). I tentatively planned to talk another MICEFA student/Anja/Pauline into joining me, but over the course of the day on Friday I began to think it might be better to go alone. That way I would pretty much be forced to meet people, something that isn't always easy for me.

All of a sudden it was 7:30 on Friday night -- time to get all dolled up and head out. There was supposed to be a dinner at 9, but of course I didn't get there until 9:30 (hair-drying/applying makeup - while also surfing facebook - takes time!), but as it turned out, no one got on the boat til about 9:50 anyway (French people are pretty different when it comes to time). I took my place at the back of the line, between groups of chatty, excited, and fabulously dressed party-goers. I figured we'd go in soon and I'd be able to join a friendly-looking table. 15 minutes went by with no sign of movement in the line. I began to get self-conscious and nervous that coming alone was a bad idea. Everyone seemed to be in groups of 4 to 10 and I was hearing so many languages that I wasn't even sure which one I should use to introduce myself. Then a girl in front of me stepped away from her group to smoke a cigarette (it's surprising how many people smoke in France considering that the cigarette packs look like this. Seriously.) I took my shot and approached her. She gave me a big smile and introduced herself in a thick accent as Carolina, from Spain. I sighed with relief as she introduced me to her three spanish friends, one of whom (only slightly inebriated) took both my hands and exclaimed that he simply did not believe I was from the United States. Whatever that means. Shortly after, Carolina was joined by 2 recently-acquired French friends who study at the same school (a business school just west of Paris). The night had officially begun and the line began to move. Carolina and I chatted in English, since she just started taking French 2 weeks ago but spent last summer in L.A. One of her friends, Carlos, spoke little french and almost no english, so our conversations were a mix of those two languages and spanish (although I'm sure I accidently threw some Italian in). Alejandro insisted on French, and we seemed to be on about the same level of fluency. The super-drunk guy mysteriously disappeared shortly after our little introduction.

We ate a meager dinner of mainly hors-d'oeuvres while seated on plush cushions around a tiny table. Then we moved out onto the deck, where I chatted with Clement and Jon, the two Frenchies. They each spent a year in the UK a couple years back, so they understandably wanted to practice their English, which had gotten pretty rough after 2 years of infrequent use. I spoke in French while they spoke in English (just like Pauline and I used to do in Austin :). They asked me to correct them, and whenever I did, they both leaned in to make sure they understood the correction. They asked me if their accents were too strong and talked about how ridiculous they think French people sound when speaking english (the = zee, etc). It was entertaining.

Later in the night, I met a few more french students/youngins, as well as some kids on an exchange from London. I was so busy getting contact info (several people added me on facebook from the party) that I missed the last metro (leaves the end of the line at 1:45 on weekends) and ended up having to stay til 4:45AM. In the meantime, I found some MICEFA friends (Claire, Andy, Glen, Sarah, and our wonderful/insane frenchy, Sebastien) who had decided to stay all night. It seemed like a romantic idea I guess (especially to them, I value sleep too highly) until about 3AM, when the energy level dropped noticeably, the music seemed to mellow, and it became obvious how smelly the dance floor was. I got home at 6AM (don't freak out, mom and dad) and fell into bed until noon.

So then it was Saturday. I recently found out that Camille, my host brother, has won a bunch of baseball competitions, and is currently the reigning MVP of his age group in France. True, baseball isn't all that popular in France, but it's still impressive. Camille can play catcher or pitcher as well as other infield positions on occassion. I wonder how many teenage girls at his school would be super-jealous to learn that I get to live with such a stud! To top it all off, his mom (my host-mom), also won a bunch of softball championships when she was in her 20s, and she is the COACH of Camille's team! So on Saturday, I went to a baseball game in France:

The atmosphere was sort of French/American; one set of parents was actually American (I'm guessing dad's a diplomat. Mom definitely isn't; her French - on the few occassions that she stopped speaking in loud english - made Andy and I cringe). The other parents chatted in French, pausing occassionally to yell encouragement to their kids, sometimes in French, sometimes in English with a french accent ("ahh-eye vant you in base!"). So now I know some french sports terminology; when something definitive and exciting happens, such as a double-play to finish an inning, it's "c'est ça!" (say SAH!). "Allez, allez, allez" (ah-LAY) is the equivalent of "let's go", although the players sometimes just used the english version. Although baseball games are usually pretty laid-back by nature, this one seemed especially casual. Most of the parents weren't even there (only about 10 people in the stands), and the ones who were took regular breaks to stretch or walk their dogs. Parents in the States are usually more passionate, even aggressive.

After the game, Andy and I headed over to Claire's apartment,where about 8 of us (6 americans, plus Sebastien and Nico, a new french friend) gathered to make breakfast for dinner. I usually like breakfast food only in the morning, but when you haven't had "real" breakfast food in about a month, it's good any time of the day. I don't think French people eat bacon, though. We bought something that looked like it but turned out to be too thick, more like ham-steaks. The home-fries, pancakes, and eggs were huge successes, though!

Sunday I participated in the Journées du Patrimoine, the Days of Patrimony, an annual weekend in Europe where lots of government-affiliated buildings, as well as other attractions, most of which are usually closed to the public, open up for a couple days of serious French-pride. For the first (and, as our tour guide informed us, last) time ever, the Moulin Rouge opened to the public during the day for guided tours. Andy, Dominika, Vicki, Tiffany and I braved a 3-4 hour line (Vicki and Tiffany had arrived separately an hour before us and luckily they let us join them), and it was totally worth it. We saw the lobby and the dining room/theatre of course, but we also went backstage and even on-stage. Our tour guide talked about all sorts of aspects of the Moulin Rouge that I had never given any thought. The women at the reception desk are on the phones all day with people from around the world inquiring about tickets. Keeping the interior of the building impeccably plush is, of course, more than a full-time job. There are 2 shows every night of the week, and an intense schedule for everything from washing the sweaty-makeup stained costumes and repairing them (seamstresses come in daily) to combing out the wigs and maintaining all the feathery boas and fans. Costumes are custom-made for the cabaret and the prices are often in the thousands. Horses are brought to the theatre each night; they're used to the music and lights because they've been hanging out at the MR since they were very young. These horses sleep during much of the day because they have night-jobs!

The current show, Féerie, has been running since the 90s and will be replaced in 2012, which is why the production designers have to avoid current music and fashion trends -- clothes from the 90s? Yuck! Look below for a picture of the most expensive costume ever made for the Moulin Rouge (equivalent of 15000 euros), which can be worn for only a short time due to its weight, and a picture of ME onstage! Gitcher tickets, boys! ;)

After leaving the sex-district (let's be real, people), I met up with Clement, one of my new friends from the boat party (I just like saying "boat party"). We went to the Grand Rex, which houses the biggest movie theatre in Europe; seating around 2800. Then to the Société Générale, my bank (not my branch). It's an enormous, old, beautiful building to which the prominent computers, fax machines, printers and telephones lend a strange air. We went down to the vault, but not in it, although if you open up a security box (the smallest one is 10 euros a month) you can have unlimited (although supervised, obviously) access. If I ever get a security/deposit box, it will be at an old bank like this one. After that it was onto the Assemblée Nationale, the French house of reps, located at the Palais Bourbon. I haven't even visited the White House in the States, so it was strange to shuffle around with all the other French people (although there were other tourists) who have grown up with images of this place all over the news, in movies, etc.

To see photos from these and other adventures of the past 3 weeks, click here.

I ended the weekend with another new friend. When I visited the Italian department of my university to inquire about classes, Claire noticed a posting on the bulletin board outside: Marco, an Italian student at Paris III was seeking a french/english, french/italian, or french/romanian "language exchange". Language exchanges are pretty popular here; two people with different "mother-tongues" (the odd-sounding translation) get together to chat. You don't have to pay a tutor and you might end up making a new friend in this bustling city. I responded, and yesterday evening we met at the Notre Dame (classic!). We spoke Italian yesterday and next time I'll help him with his English. He's from the north, and his accent sounded tighter, somehow - definitely closer to Spanish and definitely more abrupt. So I might need to pull out some paper next time to learn to actually spell the words he's giving me.

Alright gang, I think I packed about 4 days worth of activity into 2.5 days, and a novel's worth of material into one very long blog post. Many thanks for your attention and support; I hope you'll check back next week!

xoxo,

Alina :)

Consider Yourself Informed.

2009-09-13T19:09:00.000+02:00

Whew. It's been a while.

So much has happened since last week that I don't even know where to begin. When we left off I was still cell-phone-less, homeless, and hair-dryer-less. The first two have been remedied, and the third one...we'll get to that.

I found a room in a family apartment in the 4th arrondissment, The Marais. To give you a good idea of how lucky I am to be living in the Marais, I'll relay some of the reactions I've received to this information.

From other people on the program:

"skank"

"bitch"

"uhhhhh luckyyyyyy"

and from Pauline, my one French friend:

"how much are you paying?!"

I live with a woman named Laurence and her son, Camille. We're on the 5th floor without an elevator, but the apartment is so cute and comfortable that I don't care. I don't know if I'll find/be able to afford any hot yoga classes here, but climbing all those stairs is basically the same thing, right? Laurence has had 3 other exchange students, including another from UT, so she's a pro by now. I'll eat with them most nights but I'm pretty much on my own for other meals -- I'll probably be a frequent diner at the CROUS, student-cafeterias in Paris where you can get a 3 course meal for 3 euros. Sweet!

I'm very close to my metro stop, which is on line 7, same line as my (current and future) university. 7 also stops at Chatelet Les Halles, an enormous under/aboveground shopping mall + metro/RER stop, as well as at Opéra. I guess that'll be nice for the one or two times I splurge on tickets :)

Oh, and in case you're still wondering, I'll be using Madame Dubaut's hairdryer.

I also got a cell phone for 1 euro when I signed a contract for a plan. Not bad. The cell-phone-setting-up process was interesting...at least the guy was patient. Patient enough to explain to me, at one point, that 24 months equals 2 years, and also that 38 minus 6 equals 32. Knowledge!

MICEFA - the non-profit office that organized french/american exchanges - has organized several outings for us.

We took a boat-ride on the Seine:

We visited the Hotel de Ville, where the Mayor of Paris works, lives, and receives guests. There are actually 21 mayors in Paris - there is a mayor for each of the 20 arrondissments, and then there is the Maire de Paris, who is in charge of the entire city. Outside of Hotel de Ville is the Place de Grève. A grève is a marshy embankment, but it also the french word for strike, since workers, over the centuries, have gotten into the habit of gathering here when, and not if, they go on strike.

Friday night, we went to the Lapin Agile, french for the "agile rabbit", a cabaret that's been going sine 1860. It's a pretty artsy/intellectual spot, frequented by Picasso in his day. Steve Martin wrote a play called "Picasso at the Lapin Agile" in which he imagined a meeting between Einstein and Picasso there. I couldn't find anything to confirm this, but it seems this would have been the kind of venue/was the venue where Edith Piaf sang her heart out. There was a woman performing last Friday that sounded just like Piaf. The show was pretty entertaining, but it goes until 2AM, and the Metro stops a lot earlier than that, so we had to sneak out early.

I think this also might be in the book "1000 Places to See Before You Die", since they had a quote from it's author in the brochure. Only 999 more places to go!

I've also managed to check out all the major shopping venues in the last week, which should come in handy when I'm actually in the mood to buy stuff (read: during the huge sales in January, when I'll be relying on shopping to pull me out of my bad-weather-induced misery/depression. Winter's coming, I know it). Pauline played the part of the girlfriend/shopping buddy so well as we schlepped around Chatelet Les Halles and Rue du Rivoli in search of the perfect purse/bookbag (found it!) and sunglasses (more difficult to find, since, as Pauline says, there wont be any sun in like 3 weeks). I spent way too many hours yesterday in the Galeries Lafayette, a collection of designer boutiques packed into a 8-story (or more?) department store. Regard:

So that brings us up to today, which was a good day!

Anja, a german girl I know from Austin (she was doing an exchange and lived in my co-op) is now doing an internship in Paris. She suggested we go to the Parc Floral de Paris, a huge park with indoor- and outdoor-gardens, butterfly and bonsai houses, lots of space for picnics (a word and custom that the french seems to adore), playgrounds for the kids, space for conventions, and outdoor concert hall, and (probably) more that we didn't see. I don't know much about flowers, but it seemed like the ones we saw here were much different from any I've seen in gardens in the States:

Or maybe I just haven't been paying attention.

Wandering around the park, we stumbled upon a "gastronomie" fair, where vendors from all over France had set up booths to sell their wine, apéritifs, cheese, chocolate, smoked and raw meat, champagne, macaroons, etc. I think everyone could tell we were "starving students" who wouldn't buy anything, but we (mainly Anja) prodded them into giving us lots of free samples anyway. My favorite was the melon-flavored apéritif, which tasted better than it might sound. Most of the cheese counters were strangely quiet, and although everyone wanted to try some wine or champagne, macaroons were definitely the item of the hour.

You could smell this huge booth boasting dozens of spices from a couple rows away.

After we ate our fill of free food and drink, we headed over to the Chateau de Vincennes, occasional home to French royalty over the centuries. It's also the place where several infamous enemies of the state where kept, including the Diderot and the Marquis de Sade (we get the word "sadism" from this guy, who was imprisoned at the Chateau twice: once for outrageous behavior in a brothel and again for poisoning a prostitute!). Mata Hari faced a firing squad there in 1917. I think the French armed forces maintain offices in the Chateau today.

Anyway, we know the castle still has at least two inhabitants!

Alright, time to do homework for tomorrow - yuck!

Writing to you from my new room,

Alina :)

Hello, Euro

2009-09-02T20:03:00.001+02:00

First post from Paris! It's Day 2, or Day 1.5 as I like to think, and I've "moved in" to temporary housing, although I'm taking as little out of my suitcases as possible, since I know I'll be moving again in a week or so (I hope!). It's unsettling in more ways than one, but I know I'll be wasting my time trying to set up shop here.

I don't want to disappoint you, but I haven't seen the Eiffel Tour yet. Nor the Notre Dame. I've walked (sometimes quite hurriedly) the streets of much of the 13th and 14th Arrondissments, where the MICEFA office, the Maison des Etudiants Canadiens (temp housing), and at least one campus of Paris III are located. Paris seems even bigger than I expected, which is why I got a one-month metro/RER/bus pass today (yes, Paris offers THREE forms of under/above ground mass transit). Tomorrow I'll pick up a copy of Paris Practique, the ridiculously thorough guide to the city that even Parisiens, yes, Parisiens, carry. With that in my purse, I hope there will be no more seemingly endless treks to the bank (read: today). On that note, I do have a French bank account! Génial! Which I acquired with an ALMOST solely-French appointment. Other accomplishments today: making some calls on housing/finding more places to call, and attending the Orientation meeting with all 160 other MICEFA students.

Tomorrow: placement exam part I (for the language intensive), acquisition of a cell phone, potential acquisition of a place to live, and..acquisition of a hair dryer, j'espère.

A toute à l'heure, mes amis!

Alina :)

Movers and Shakers

2009-08-30T04:04:00.001+02:00

I'd just like to point out that "Ma Vie à Paris" (My Life in Paris), like so many other phrases in French, rhymes. What an excellent language.

Well, I'm pretty much packed and organized. I must give a big shout-out here: to "space bags" (sold for a surprisingly reasonable price at the Container Store). They may be the closest thing to a miracle that I've ever experienced, though it is a little strange to see your clothing compressed like astronaut food. Packing didn't take that long, with me pulling the contents of my room out onto the living room floor, mom getting down and dirty rolling clothes, and dad preparing coffee before taking his post on the couch, paper in hand, to offer tidbits of encouragement when mom and I arrived at a standstill (dad was pretty excited about the space bags, though).

I had allotted about 50 hours to packing, and since it only took about 5, I'm currently making up for that time by super-organizing: making lists, walking around the house straightening table centerpieces, aligning appliances in the kitchen, and rearranging the stack of books on my desk from largest to smallest. I ran into some problems with that last one -- if I ruled the world, or at least the publishing companies, all books would be the same proportions (lxw).

I really do enjoy the process of packing, though. It's an excuse to weed out all of your less-than-spectacular possessions without having to actually donate/throw anything away. And you have to admit, packing for a year deserves some thought. I'm actually bringing a lot of toiletries, since I hear they are more expensive in France, but mainly since I'm too set in my hygeine pattern to deal with a bunch of new products.

I remember when I moved into my house at Carnegie Mellon; despite going through several days/stages of packing for my first college experience, I still found about $400 worth of stuff for my parents to purchase at Target. I must have needed some shampoo or something. On the day of move-in, we were directed to Roselawn, where several Residential Assistants and Orientation Counselors lined up next to our rental car to quickly transport everything into the house (it was actually a pretty ingenious system). I was fine - thrilled, actually - to see a bunch of gangly upperclassmen (hey, this was CMU) carrying my baggage up the stairs, but I was terrified of what they would think when the trunk opened to reveal about 27 Target bags. The conspicuous consumption! The spoiled-rottenness of me! The environmental and ethical implications, to say the least!

No big, though. Looking back at some of my fellow "Tartans", I'm pretty sure they'd seen worse.

I'm not so sure I'll have 5 or 6 French guys carrying my bags all over the city, as I move from temporary housing to (I hope) a permanent one a couple weeks later. At least this time, my shampoo is in my suitcase.

Remembrance

2009-08-29T06:17:00.000+02:00

Last week at the French Language Meetup in Houston, I sat next to a middle-aged man who introduced himself as Michael. Per my usual, I was initially dismayed to find myself chatting with a non-generation Y-er (though the "French gang," as they - the young Europeans and would-be Europeans who frequent the meetup -sometimes call themselves, generally work to uphold the stereotype of aloof chic. I was once introduced to a girl who pointed in my face and said "Polish?" "No...Czech, well, American..." I stammered, but she was already kissing the cheeks of the next person and pulling another aside for a little chat in the corner). So it's no surprise, really, that I somewhat-secretly preferred the safe, confident, but strangely unpretentious atmosphere of the adults who remained seated at the table, rather than restlessly mingling on the crowded patio. Michael, like many other "grown-ups" at La Madeleine, was intrigued by my forthcoming stay in Paris. Again like many other settled-down, married-with-kids francophones, he recalled his years spent abroad and gave me some fatherly-type advice for the months to come. The next Saturday was my last day at Hungry's. We were busy, for once, and in the middle of the rush I heard Tacho, another waiter, calling my name from across the restaurant. He was pointing down at the man seated at table D3, who in turn waved. I didn't realize it was Michael until I approached the table and he turned to say "Bonjour" (not the first time I've used the language with which someone addressed me to figure out where I knew him/her from). I had told Michael that I worked at Hungry's and that Saturday would be my last day. As we talked for a few seconds I noticed what I guessed was a book sitting wrapped on the table. As I turned to check on my tables, Michael offered it up. "My intuition tells me that you'll like this -- I hope you haven't read it," he said. I was shocked at the kind gesture and thanked Michael profusely as I slipped the book under my arm, where it attracted the curious glances of customers as they gave me their food orders. The book turned out to be "The Marble Faun" by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I haven't read it, but I did enjoy The Scarlet Letter in junior english, and Michael informed me, with twinkling eyes, that when it was first published, people visiting Italy actually used "The Marble Faun" as a travel guide. I'll have to dig in before my next trip to the land of warmth, wine, and pasta. That next Wednesday was my last at the French meetup (until I return from Paris, that is), and I looked around for Michael, who had told me he would be there as usual. Unfortunately, I couldn't find him to thank him once again for his thoughtfulness.
And now I never will. I found out yesterday evening that Michael was killed in an auto accident Saturday night. I experienced the somewhat random generosity of an almost-stranger on the morning of his last day on earth. From what I have since been told about Michael, it seems acts of kindness such as this would have been a part of any day for him.
Minutes after hearing of Michael's death, I learned that a former professor is pregnant with her first child. Life is truly a mixed bag -- upswings and free-falls. I do believe in fate, or at least in the series of events which have led me to this moment, writing to you (if anyone is out there) with t-minus 2 days 'til 11 months in Paris. I'm ready to learn why providence has pushed me there. Let's hope it's an upswing-kind-of-thing.