Peace out Paris

Well, I know my blog has dwindled but only because I was enjoying Paris too much to spend it behind my laptop. I am leaving today to take an 8 hour train ride to Tarbes, France where I will be working at a bed and breakfast for a month. I am then going to my high school reunion in Kenya and on family holiday in Florence. Eventually I will find myself back in DC.

Paris has been everything I could have hoped for and more. I am really sad about leaving, but as always it's time to go. I will absolutely be back one day.

Street Noise

It's May now which means I have opened my window. I now have a cool breeze blowing through my room and slamming my door when I'm not careful. This change has added something else though - street noise.

I now hear the delivery trucks bringing fresh fish to the "poissonnerie" across the street and the fresh vegetables/fruits to the "epecerie". Dogs bark all the time because the French take their dogs everywhere. Dogs on the metro, in clothing stores, in the grocery store... Fans cheering/yelling at the soccer game. Birds, birds, and more birds because almost every street in Paris is lined with trees which are finally full of leaves. The garbage collectors who come everyday. The clinking of people putting their wine bottles in the recycling bins found on almost every street corner. The number 80 bus. The neighbors talking to each other while on their respective balconies.

Street noise, I find, is actually rather comforting. It's another perspective on the daily routine of Parisians. These are noises from any city in the world and somehow that makes Paris seem more real to me.

Turning 20, Volcanic Ash, and a week with my sister

First off, I am very sorry for the long delay in updated my blog - although I hope the following explains why it might not have been a priority over the past couple of weeks.

Well, a couple weeks ago I had the privilege of turning 20 in Paris. My friends went well out of their way to make it a fabulous night. It all started with me and my two friends from college, both named Lauren, standing under the Eiffel Tower as it twinkled at midnight - a little cheesy, but perfectly appropriate. The saturday after my birthday Lauren Moore and I went to Versailles which was absolutely gorgeous and not too crowded at all. I think we just managed to beat the large crowds. The on Sunday morning, in the middle of the whole volcano ash mess we started our journey to Scotland.

We had already bought train tickets, but it still ended up being a battle to get on the train to Amsterdam. Once there we had a lovely evening wondering around and the next day we took a free walking tour of the city. By this time we had found out our flight was not going to leave Tuesday morning, but we managed to change it to Thursday morning. Fortunately I had an old dorm sister, Danjella, who lives about an hour outside of Amsterdam with her brother and sister and let us stay with them for two days. It was wonderful seeing Danjella, relaxing in the Dutch countryside, and cycling like the locals. Our plane did leave Thursday morning.

After many hours of traveling I made it to Aberdeen just a couple hours before Megan, my older sister, found out she had won her campaign and now has a job for the next year! It was perfect timing and I am so glad I was able to celebrate with her and her friends. The next day Megan and I went to see Les Miserables in Edinburgh and afterwards we spent the rest of the week just taking it easy in Aberdeen. Last night I finally made it back to Paris and it felt so nice waking up this morning to fresh baguette, a french press of coffee, and a pain au chocolate on the table.

Megan and her friends
Me and Danjella
Dutch countryside
A little Amsterdam...

Ciao Bella

Milan for Easter, an excellent decision. My friend Bridget and I flew from Paris to Milan on Friday and despite an 8 hour delay leaving from Charles De Gaulle the weekend was lovely. Italy was fabulous and a country I must return to someday. I was pleasantly surprised by the generally friendliness of Italians and how easy it was to understand some Italian and pick up a few phrases while I was there. Also, most likely due to Milan's proximity to Switzerland, I didn't find the culture overwhelmingly different from France.

Milan is where Hemingway based his novel A Farewell to Arms and I loved walking around picturing where the hospital might have been and all the roads his characters wondered down.

Bridget and I knew very little about Milan, the Lakes, or really what we were going to do once in Italy, but that added adventure to the trip and I think we managed just fine.

Bonjourno Senhora!
I, of course, drank lots of Italian coffee.
On Sunday we went to visit Lake Como, renowned as the most beautiful lake that borders Italy and Switzerland. Despite the gray skies it was absolutely beautiful.
Gelato!
Milan is currently one of the fashion capitals of the world along side Paris, London, and New York. Bridget and I strolled down several of the main shopping streets, but only window shopped.

Leonardo Da Vinci. We went to one museum in Milan featuring Italian art from the 15th-17th centuries. Lots of Luinis, Brezins, and Raphaels. A nice surprise was seeing Raphael's original sketch of his "School of Athens." The museum was having a special Leonardo exhibit and we saw his self-portrait and as well his painting of "the musician." Then we were given free tickets to go see the small exhibit of his sketches/thoughts. It was amazing to see what all that man thought. One piece of his journal had some sketches and then text that dealt with the flights of birds and the problems of painting.
There was a huge Easter egg with the four seasons painted on it.
Bridget and I on top of the roof of the main cathedral, Duomo.
The view from the roof was amazing, but even more incredible was seeing the architecture's miniscule details. Bridget and I spent over an hour on the roof just in awe of this.
The Doumo.

Well that's all for now, prego.

Spring in Paris

Spring has arrived! How do we know this? Because it is forecasted to rain everyday for the next week. It is also slowly getting warmer, I've packed away my heavy winter coats and Parisians are venturing beyond wearing only black and gray. Flowers are beginning to bloom and the days are getting longer. My friends and I have begun having lunch in the Luxembourg gardens and Paris in general just seems to have come to life.

Taking advantage of our student passes and copious amounts of free time, I've been visiting all of the main museums/monuments. This past Wednesday we went as a class to the Opera Garnier which was unbelievable. On Thursday afternoon I went to the Musee Carnavalet which is a museum on the history of Paris. It's in a huge house in the Marais that used to be owned by Madame de Sevigne whose letters are the main record of life in the Marais in the 17th century. Then on Saturday I went to see Les Invalides which is the French military museum and Napoleon's tomb. Next on the list is Cafe Procope - the very first cafe in Paris and a favorite of Voltaire, Benjamin Franklin, and Oscar Wilde.

As the weather continues to get nicer and as I love it here more and more I can't help but wonder if there is someway I can stay.

Vienna Waits for You

Last weekend I went to visit a good friend of mine from AU who is spending the spring semester in Vienna. I flew in Bratislava Friday evening, thinking until the day before that Bratislava was in Austria. Wrong, it's the capital of Slovakia. Then I took a bus from the airport in Bratislava to downtown Vienna. Stepping off the plane in Bratislava brought back a lot of memories of African airports - this was the first impression I had of Eastern Europe and it kind of surprised me the immediate difference one can see between the East and West.

In Vienna I played the complete tourist. Lauren and I went to the Hofburg Palace to see the library, we stepped inside Stephansdom, went to the summer residence of Maria Teresa, rode the famous ferris wheel, and explored an open air market. I can't decide though if my favorite part was the cafes or the opera. Cafes in Vienna are fabulous. Each is different with either an elegant, but inviting feel or a smoky, cluttered, and chaotic twist. What I loved the most is that no matter the setting the waiter always came out in a tuxedo to take our order. Alslo, in Vienna to make sure everyone who wants to sit has a seat they combine groups at tables. For example two girls are having coffee at a table for 4 and so the waiter adds another couple to the table. I really don't think that would go over too well in the US. My other favorite was the opera. Lauren and I stood in line for an hour to get standing room tickets at the Vienna Opera house. We saw the Flying Dutchman by Wagner and for so many reasons I was blown away.

Vienna was the perfect weekend away, but I am glad to be back in Paris where I don't feel completely foreign anymore.

Vienna's incredibly famous and old ferris wheel.

My last breakfast in Vienna at Cafe Central.

Schonbrunn Palace - the summer residence of Maria Teresa and the Hapsburgs

The Opera.

The royal library inside Hofburg Imperial Palace.
Lauren and I with Stephansdom in the background
Lauren and I with the Hofburg Imperial Palace in the background.
Bratislava.

Happiness is.... (Parisian style)

Happiness is...

Fresh baguette in the morning... and then again in the afternoon

Eating breakfast and listening to the radio with my host dad in our pjs.

My French professor wearing his purple trousers... again.

Coffee at Malongo with my girls

Getting lost with Claudia from our class tour of the Pantheon

Running along the Seine

Having someone ask you for directions - I look French at last!

Someone playing 'As Time Goes By' on a saxophone in the metro

Grilled cheese and ham sandwiches with my host brother, with the table fully set

Nutella crepes

Saying Les Champs-Elysees as often as you like in your best French accent

Free roses from the flower shop on the corner (I knew winking at that sales-boy would pay off)

Tea with madame after dinner

Seeing the Eiffel Tower twinkle its lights on the hour each night from my window

Simply being in Paris.

Melted Measuring Cups and Rum Flavored Desserts

My host parents returned last night after being on vacation for 12 days. That's right, they let me house sit all by myself for 12 days. No worries though, I was well taken care of. Before leaving my madame had cooked dinner for each night and my host brother and sister who live nearby stopped by occasionally. And when they returned everything was in order except for a plastic measuring cup my friend and I had managed to melt.

After being here for almost a month I can easily say that my French is getting better by the day. Conversation takes less thought and I am beginning to think in French when I am speaking instead of translating from English to French in my head. I am using expressions that only make sense in French and can now have conversations about politics, traveling, and French history. I also started phonetics this past week which is basically an hour of moaning French vowels into a headset. It surprisingly helps a lot though. I am still making humorous language mistakes such as today at Sunday dinner I said I like drinking rum in the desert instead of I like rum flavored desserts. I have also said at another dinner with my host parents that I have my mom's ex-boyfriend instead of saying I have my mom's eyes.

What's wonderful about being in Paris learning French is that it's more than just the language, it's the French culture and history as well. Living with a fairly traditional French family has taught me so many customs I would never have learned otherwise. For instance, proper French families set the table with the forks and spoons turned upside down. I asked my host sister about this and she said that centuries ago when silverware was actually silver the seal of the family was also put on the utensils. In England the seal was put on what we consider the right side up, but in France it was put on the other side and they always set the table with the seal facing up.

Life here has developed a comfortable rhythm and familiarity and as I was telling my real parents the other day, if I could find a way I might just stay here forever.

Self-explanatory

7:45 - my first alarm goes off
8:15 - I finally get up
8:45 - Breakfast consisting of fresh baguette and coffee. Sometimes I eat with Madame and sometimes I eat alone.
9:15 - I leave the apartment
10:00 - My 2 hour French grammar class with M. Fesquet. It is a class of around 25 students from all over the world, although predominantly Asian. It is conducted entirely in French and we spend about an hour each day on grammar excercises and an hour talking about French culture. For instance today M. Fesquet explained to us why the French has 6 weeks of paid vacation. Our professor is a very jolly guy and wears the same purple pants for an entire week.
12:00 - I walk to St. Micheal with a couple of friends for the cheapest lunch we can find
2:30 - We go to the ACCENT center for our class on the history of Paris, or I attend a conference at La Sorbonne, or we met our Paris class somewhere in the city (ex. Musee de Cluny ou Notre Dame)
4:30 - I head home or go to coffee with some friends
6:00 - Go for a run on the Champs des Mars
8:30 - Dinner with M. et Md. Dumontier. Dinner is generally a 3 course meal starting with a salad or soup, then followed by a main dish, and then desert which could be anything from a dark chocolate raspberry tart or fruit salad. Then Madame and I have tea as she continues to converse with me in French. The Dumontiers absolutely spoil me - and I'm loving it.
10:00 - I do my homework
11:30 - sleep.

The Persistence of Memory

This city surprises me everyday. Last Saturday I went to the Salvador Dali museum in Montmatre, a permanent exhibit of over 300 pieces of art by Dali. There were his famous sculptures of melting watches on tree branches, his symbolic representation of the fluidity of time. There were his series on Alice in Wonderland, Romeo and Juliet, and his Old and New Testament interpretations. The walls were all black and as a whole the place was in every way modern. However, the museum is underground and as they were hollowing it out they found an ancient chapel, dating before 1000 AD. There, right behind Dali's erotic elephant was a stone chapel with a broken Virgin Mary somewhat reconstructed. At first this seemed so unreal, but that kind of fit with Dali. This was just one of the many examples of what my professor calls 'the layered city'. Paris is at the cutting edge of fashion, politics, philosophical ideas, and cuisine, but there is an ancient, traditional, and sacred side of the city too. In so many ways this museum left nothing wanting - it was a live example of the fluidity of time. Showing that we will forever be connected to the past and always trying to control the future. Paris is an ancient city, but it also holds so many ideas that will reach the rest of the world tomorrow.

A Note About Parisians

Sitting on the metro the other day I made a mental list on how to become Parisian. This is what I have so far:

1. Wear black and gray - at least during the winter

2. Put your game face on when you enter the metro

3. Do not smile at strangers

4. Be tall, skinny, and beautiful

However, as much as I try I was told during orientation Parisians can always pick out the foreigners. Even the lady who was given the lecture said she has been here 12 years and people still know she is not French. I just wonder how they know.

Parisians have a reputation among us Westerners. I've had friends asking me how I am getting along with my family, are they uptight? Rude? Arrogant? This less than wonderful reputation was certainly something I was aware of before coming here and something I tried not to judge the city by. The truth is some Parisians are rude, but so am I half the time. Yes, they are arrogant, but hardly the only culture that is. What I have noticed more and more is that Parisians have the same problems and concerns about life that we do.

Marielle, the oldest daughter of my host parents is having a baby in two months. However, this pregnancy has been tense and uneasy because last year she lost a baby during her six month for a reason none of the doctors can explain. She was telling me on Sunday that she still can't believe her baby will actually be born alive this time, that she will finally be a mother.

On Saturday when we were at the old Opera house riot police came running past us. There was a a protest marching down one of the nearby streets towards the Opera house - they were waving Palestinian flags and shouting in support of Hamas. They continued down the street with a van in the middle of them from which people were yelling into microphones. Then they marched up the steps and each took hold of a huge Palestinian flag which they waved in unison.

I guess with all the stereotypes and preconceived expectations what I am finding is that Paris is simply full of ordinary people. Mothers who worry about their children, students who are fighting for their people, the person that shoves you on the metro because they want to get to work on time, and the server that chuckles when you butcher their language. Just ordinary people going about their life as they best they can, they just happen to be in Paris.

A Few Pictures

Love the French Advertising.

Les Galeries Lafayette.

Americans have no idea how to shop in style. There were champagne bars in the shops and every single designer you could think of.

The Musee D'Orsay - We are able to get into all the museums for free with our Sorbonne IDs.

My favorite Monet.

Van Gogh's self-portrait with some man in my way.

Me in a sea of scarves, a dream come true. This was a small shop in St. Micheal - the Latin Quarter and popular student part of the city.

An evening boat tour on La Seine - that would be Notre Dame on the horizon.

La Bastille - the square near our student center and another popular place for young people to go out. The new opera house is also on this square.

This is the 6th Floor

Locks in Paris are complicated. Often there are 2 or 3 key holes with different shaped keys for each one. Losing one's keys is a huge problem. You don't simply make a copy - you change the lock something that can cost up to $1000. And so will I ever lose my keys? No. Anyways, back to the complicated lock. I returned last night, quite late, or early however you gage the night. Obviously everyone else in the apartment was asleep and I was going to have face unlocking the door, hopefully quietly. Well, the light on the landing had already been turned off and there were 3 switches; one was our doorbell, one was the neighbor's doorbell, and the other was the light. I didn't take any chances on the switches. Instead, in my brilliance I pushed the elevator door button continually because when the doors opened there was some light. So I would push the button and run to the door to try and fit one of the keys in. Well, every time the elevator doors opened a voice said "C'est le sixieme etage" (this is the 6th floor). For some reason I thought this would not wake anyone up, but I am pretty sure after I pressed that button 7 times, everyone on the 6th and 5th floor were awake.

This was not my first incident with the door. On Friday night I successfully locked my host parents out. Their son had to call my cellphone to ask me to go let them in. Not only was I in before my host parents on a Friday night, but apparently I can't lock a door. The Dumontiers keep asking me what university I go to, I'm not sure they believe I finished high school.

As my dad said I might be the last student the Dumontiers have.

Paris is not a dream

Today we had two more orientation sessions and then we met our home stay families. I honestly can't imagine a more perfect family for me to stay with. Monsieur et Madame Dumontier are an older couple with four grown children. Jacques Dumontier (the dad) is a retired journalist having spent his career as a radio journalist, traveling all around the world. Now, his oldest daughter was telling me, he sits at home, in his chair, reading and drinking coffee - I told him he had lived and was living my ideal life. Gaelle Dumontier is a high school teacher, she teaches Latin and French. Two of their children live in Paris and were here for dinner tonight. Their other daughter lives with her husband in Boston and their other son works at the French embassy in Tunisia. There are books everywhere in the apartment, every single room, including the toilet, has a sagging bookshelf. Marielle, the eldest daughter, told me her dad has never given away a book. In my room they have placed all the English books and few French ones that Jacques expects me to read and discuss with him, we'll see how that goes. They are a very international family. Marielle is married to a man from Mozambique whom she met while she was teaching French there. Elliot, the older son, works for Zodiac and is constantly traveling. The younger son who works in Tunisia has also worked in Egypt and Syria. Jacques himself saw a lot of the world while working. So we had a lot to talk about at dinner.

Before dinner Jacques had driven me from the hotel to their apartment and I had an entire tour of Paris at night. He pointed out the museums, the parliament, Notre Dame, mosques , and so on. To complete this perfect fit of a home, from my window you can see the Eiffel Tower. Gaelle said they give this room to the students so that they can assure themselves Paris is not a dream - they are really here.

Water, not Champagne

Other than missing my connection in London and having to get on a later flight to Paris everything about my trip went smoothly. I arrived at the student center at around 1:00pm and instead of putting us with our families on the first night I stayed with all the other students in my program in a hotel. We had a short orientation session and were then set loose in the city. The hotel was near La Bastille where the new opera house is and many restaurants and bars. I wondered through the cobble stone streets with a few of the other girls stopping in at places on La Rue de la Roquette and eventually having dinner. Our server at dinner was wonderful. Recognizing right away that we were Americans he handed us English menus, but after a story from my Microeconomics professor I asked for a French menu, just to make sure the prices were the same. When we asked for water he brought us tap water which he had put in a champagne bottle and then in the fridge to keep it cold. At first we thought we had ordered the wrong drink, and seriously if we couldn't order water correctly then perhaps coming here was mistake. But then the waiter explained and at the end of dinner there were five empty champagne bottles on the table. I am sure the other guests in the restaurant thought we were having a great time.

Pre-Departure

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.-Ernest Hemingway

Tomorrow I fly to Paris - my home for the next 4-5 months. I have two bags packed, a course list, and a one-way ticket. Packing my brand new Paris moleskin I am fully prepared to wonder the streets writing, sketching, and searching as Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Hugo, and so many others did. Although, of course I will not wonder the streets drunkenly (my parents are most likely reading this blog).

I never did fill out the expectations and goals part of my "pre-departure paperwork" mainly because I have no idea what to expect, and I like that. My goals are just as Hemingway said to be young and in Paris and have that time move with me for the rest of my life. I will of course also learn French. This blog will be filled with my stories from Paris and any other European city that has to endure my presence.