a desire to become Parisian

I have no interest in leaving France, whatsoever. Or even Paris. Is that weird? I find that a little bit weird...I mean, apart from one week of my spring break WWOOFing in the south of France (more on that when I get more confirmed details), I don't have any plans to travel (also aside from the free excursion to La Rochelle in April). A couple weeks ago I planned on going somewhere in France the second weekend of March, after David comes to visit, but now that I'm thinking about it I can't imagine being away...But I've already done the Euro-trip experience, I've already traveled across Europe, and I think I'll be just as content having wacky stories about my encounters with Parisians than adding to my collection of crazy airport stories, or getting lost in a random country. The latter sounds exciting and all, but I've realized that my main goal is that when I go home and someone asks me if I've been to thisplace or thatplace in Paris, I'll be able to say, why yes, of course, I've been there five times! Or something like that. Because I have classes all day from Monday to Thursday (and these are no "study abroad" classes, either. NYU in Paris unfortunately likes to be quite academic) and an incredible amount of reading, I don't have time to go and explore until the weekend. So how can I even consider leaving?

And after thinking about it (even though it doesn't really take much thinking...) I've decided to add more pictures to this blog, to give you a break from my incessant venting or droning or whining or whatnot. So I'll end this post with this pretty picture:

"Je m'baladais sur l'avenue le cœur ouvert à l'inconnu"

This is why I don't want to leave Paris: (among many, many, many other things)
1. I was walking through the Marais, a warm and delicious falafel sandwich in my hands, on my way to eat it in the Place des Vosges, and a man started to play "Les Champs-Elysées" on his saxophone.
2. I came home to find Beatrice finally home from her vacation, and a mountain of cookies and salted caramel from Bretagne on my desk.
3. On one of my many trips to Shakespeare and Co, possibly my favorite bookstore yet, the guy working remembered me and we chatted. Probably because I've gone there almost once a week, and I'm secretly fascinated with the people who work there, and when I return after graduation I want to work there...is that weird?
4. I got conned by a fake-deaf girl into giving her five euro. When a group of them first came up to me I said no thanks, but then when I found out they were deaf I felt bad, because it looked like all they wanted me to do was to sign a petition. But then I realized I was being forced to give the girl money and I felt my moral values plummeting when my poor student-self argued with her into not giving her my twenty, but asking for change...(does this not sound familiar to my taxi argument?) I kind of felt like it was a scam in the back of my head, but my suspicions were definitely confirmed when I was walking out of the Pompidou and heard her talking to her friend...now I don't feel bad for demanding change! This story may not particularly make me want to stay in Paris, but I like being forced to constantly be on my toes...
5. The ability to spontaneously walk into a world famous art museum for free, and only stay for an hour or so.
6. Views like this:

7. I am constantly falling in love with Paris over and over again. There are some things I miss about New York, like Mamoun's $2.50 falafel (I don't care if they say it's better here) and streets on a grid. But after meandering along the city and suddenly seeing breathtaking views like above, while a scoop of salted-caramel ice cream is waiting to be eaten...nothing can really compare.

catacombs, cemeteries, the sixth sense, and more

When my mom told people I was going to be studying abroad in Paris, a lot of people were surprised and confused. And it's not like she was really able to answer their questions, especially since I just studied abroad last year and who really knows if my concentration has anything to do with France. And if you look at the classes I'm taking this semester, you'll be even more confused. I'm taking classes on things that are so out of my element, and (as far as I know) are so far from my Gallatin concentration, whatever that might be. I do know that my concentration has something to do with "the Arts," although who really knows what that means, considering the fact that I'm reading texts on philosophy, policy, economics, and politics. I still shudder at the idea of these topics (although less at philosophy now), but it's been surprisingly interesting learning about these things from a European perspective--it kind of adds a more interesting light on things that are so boring to me in the States. But enough on that now.

This weekend, if you think about it, has been a "death-filled" one. It may sound morbid and horrible, but it was pretty successful. After a mandatory and slightly boring field trip for class to the new Immigration Museum on Friday, I went to the Catacombs, which were so cool and so incredibly creepy.  I didn't bring my camera, unfortunately, because it was an unplanned trip on my part, but here's a picture from Wikipedia:

It's this underground city, where they stacked the bones of people that they had to dig up to make room for the city's expansion and the growing population (i.e. the higher number of people dead). It's been a tourist attraction since the 19th century, and it took 45 minutes to walk through. You just see rows and rows of stacked bones and they aligned the skulls in certain ways to make patterns (like a heart, or the outline of a church, etc). It felt spooky and disrespectful in a way. But cool. In the beginning I didn't want to add pictures to this blog, but the pictures of this place are so unbelievable.

Then Saturday we continued the death-filled weekend by going to the Cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise (my accents aren't working today for some reason), which is that famous cemetery where everyone is buried, particularly Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison (remember that episode on the first season of ANTM, when Adrianne tried going there?). It's incredibly huge and eerily beautiful, and we literally spent the entire day there, up until the guard yelled at us to leave. I was able to find Sarah Bernhardt, Edith Piaf, Victor Noir, Moliere, and a few others. The picture is Alena and I kissing Oscar Wilde's grave (we brought lipstick for the occasion).

Oh, and to cap off the death-weekend, we even watched the Sixth Sense Saturday night--in French! I don't even think it was a conscious decision to make that the theme...

I can't believe it's almost the end of February. I've been here for a little more than a month, yet it feels like we only have a little bit of time left. During dinner with Beatrice last Thursday we were talking about that, and she commented on how much our French had improved. I'm really going to miss her, she's so incredibly cute. I can actually have full-on conversations with her, and they're no longer restricted to the dinner table. Although sometimes the screaming babies are too much after a long day of classes, the kids are getting braver and we play with them now. Beatrice is gone for the week, I think to her country house, but it's weird not having a full house anymore. She even left us two dinners in the fridge because she said she wanted to keep her promise of two dinners a week. And on the phone, she calls us her "American daughters." I don't want to leave!

La Dame Aux Camélias

I don’t even know where to begin. Last night, NYU gave us free tickets to go to the ballet, and I can’t even describe how amazing it was. Let me just preface with the fact that it was at the Opera Garnier—the most beautiful opera house I’ve ever seen. We went to see La Dame Aux Camélias, which is an adaptation of Alexandre Dumas’ (Jr.) novel. It’s your basic Moulin Rouge story, about a courtesan, Marguerite, who has a heart of gold, as well as tuberculosis. She falls in love with Armand, but continues her old lifestyle, rushing from ball to ball and from admirer to admirer; all this time Armand waits for her at home. Marguerite’s main admirer and “client,” the Duke, takes her to his country estate, where she brings her friends as well as Armand, and lavishly spends the Duke’s money. When the Duke grows jealous of him, Marguerite publicly declares her love for Armand and in doing so repudiates wealth and security. On hearing about his son’s lifestyle, Armand’s father visits Marguerite at her country house without Armand’s knowledge and insists that she should stop seeing him. Marguerite agrees to this sacrifice out of her love for Armand. She writes a letter to him, telling him that she has gone back to her old lifestyle of admirers (which is the only thing he will believe), and everyone is unhappy. In the end, Marguerite dies of tuberculosis and Armand only learns the truth after she is dead.

 The afternoon before the performance, a professor held a “preview” where she showed us clips of the opera, film, and ballet adaptations, and told us the entire story in detail. What was also extremely helpful and interesting was that she described the choreography that conveyed all these emotions and plot-points. So that when it was time for the ballet, I was able to see the certain movements she had described and really understand them.

And I actually cried. I never cry at movies, I think the last one I cried at was I Am Sam in sixth grade. But the choreography was so incredibly beautiful and the costumes…I can’t even describe how beautiful they were (Marguerite made ELEVEN costume changes!). Do you ever think about if you could choose one thing to be in your life, what it would be? I would totally choose a ballerina. It’s this inner fantasy I have that keeps me going back to the Nutcracker every single year. This might sound stupid, but do you know what my five-year goal is? To see a production of Swan Lake. And I’m completely serious. But come on, it’s not like I know what I’m going to be doing with my life in five years, and I have a concrete idea of at least something that I want to do, no matter how miniscule of an event it may seem. But I learned that we can get student-rush tickets to ballets and operas here for something like €7—that’s less than a movie ticket. Guess who’s going to see La Dame Aux Camélias again? That’s right.

Food, food, and more food

Friday the entire program went on a celebratory field trip to L'abbaye de Royaumont, after finishing the preliminary course and the first week of classes. There we were given a tour of the grounds and then had a gourmet meal, which was nice. Our first course was bruschetta with goat cheese wrapped in eggplant; then we had mashed potatoes with veal or pork (still unsure); then a cheese course with camembert; and then an amazing dessert (still not sure what it was, but it was some sort of flan/custard on top of chocolate ganache); and finished with espresso--all while having complimentary wine, of course.

This weekend was basically full of exploring and wandering--probably the best thing to doing in Paris, besides discovering amazing food. I walked around the Marais, which I read in a guide book is the "Greenwich Village of Paris," but it's got a different sort of charm. I had been there with Emily the weekend before, and I went back to this cute cafe to sit and read. The next day I discovered one of the outdoor markets of Paris--I can't wait till it gets warmer out and other produce gets to be in season. And then that night we had our usual dinner with Beatrice (she cooks us dinner every Sunday and Thursday nights). Must I say, though, it was amazing. We always have all the courses, so last night wasn't any different, but we started with a Croque Madame and some sauteed vegetables. Then we had a cheese course with cheese I can't remember (but were delicious nevertheless) and we ended with a peach pie. Thankfully we only eat like this twice a week--I usually have to skip eating that day to prepare.

Tonight I went to the cooking workshop they were having and we all learned how to make crepes--I must say I didn't actually mess them up! (Because you all know how many cooking mistakes I've made whenever I try to cook...) They were absolutely delicious, and we made sweet and savory ones as well. My favorite combination was a cracked egg with sauteed onions and mushrooms. We cooked in the communal kitchen of a dorm, so we were able to meet some French students while cooking and eating alongside them.

Oh, and an update on the children at Day Care Beatrice: they're actually cute. There was this one annoying baby who was actually terrifying (says the babysitter) and who never smiled. There's a photo of her on Facebook, and I swear you'll agree. But today, when I brought Emily by to see the apartment and to drop off a Valentine's Day care package, she wheeled herself to my room (she's never out of this wheelie thing she sits in) and I swear she smiled...I actually played with her, if you can believe it, if you've been hearing the stories concerning her. Tomorrow I just might liberate her from the wheelie prison. And Cesar, the one-almost-two-year-old is incredibly adorable, and when he sees either Julia or I walk into the apartment he runs over to us and hangs out with us in our rooms. He doesn't talk yet, but makes unintelligible French baby noises. But they prove to be better ways of practicing our French, versus just talking to the dogs. While I might complain about being woken up early in the morning on days I don't have morning classes by the babies, I'm starting to kind of like them.

So in response to a suggestion, I've started posting some pictures on Flickr, but supposedly (and stupidly) it only lets me upload 100 MB a month, which is ridiculous (each picture is at least 3 MB), so I only have a few pictures on there now. Hopefully that will change. A ton of people are going to Amsterdam this weekend, so this might give me the excuse to really explore Paris while they're gone. Here's the link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/45724198@N06/

NYU meets football

Just saw this ad from the Superbowl. Not putting it up because of the short NYU-plug in the fourth second of the ad, but thought it was cute, and obviously....Paris.

love letter

Dear Paris,

I am utterly and devastatingly in love with you.

Love,

Your not-so-secret admirer.

birthdayness

Today was a really great day, even though it's freezing outside and I'm dead tired. It's the first week of classes, so things are a little hectic, and I think I've finally figured out my schedule--after going to five classes yesterday--never happening again. I surprisingly moved up in my French class because I wanted more of a challenge...which is surprising because I suddenly feel kind of confident about my French. Sure, I still need to learn a lot more, but I'm not as worried about how I sound, I just try and get it out. It's weird not being so embarrassed anymore. And then when I got home after a long day of errands (we went to the elusive but famous Shakespeare and Co to buy our textbooks, but it took us a while to find it hidden on a tiny street--I'm absolutely obsessed with that place, I need to go back and explore it more), I was told that it's Beatrice's grandson, Martin (the one who stays with us on the weekends)'s 14th birthday, as well as National Crepe Day (such a good day to have your birthday on), so the whole family was over and they made crepes. At first it was really awkward for Julia and I to sit in on the family festivities but everyone is so nice, and hey, free crepes. Then Beatrice's friends came to pick up their kids, and they were really friendly and spoke to us in Franglais. Beatrice and the husband joked around a lot, and they made fun of each other's accents when speaking English, and I just kept thinking that I would never have been able to do this if I had chosen to live in an apartment. And last night Julia and I cooked (as in boiled water) in the kitchen for the first time, which at first felt really awkward, but now it feels like no big deal--I guess those are the cons to living in someone else's house.

When I was walking home from the metro today I was thinking about how I could actually see myself living here later on. I forget how we got on the subject, but last night all of a sudden Julia and I realized that we're graduating next year. Only one more year of school and then it's the real world. I'm refusing to let myself actually realize this fact (instead of just numbly thinking about it), but it might make it a nicer reality if I imagine myself living here...