Movies, Museums, Moulin Rouge...Baseball.

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 :)