French class day 2: already exhausted!

Today's French class lesson consisted of an exercise on accents, reading Camus' acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize, and listening to Jacques Brel (my French teacher adooores Jacques Brel). After feeling exhausted and ready to sip a hot chocolate and take a nap, I ran over the the resto u for some salad, sausage, veggies, mashed potatoes, and a raspberry tart thinking that a full stomach would wake me up. It did.... until the Art History professor showed us slides of some of the art we will see this weekend in Provence. When the lights went down, my eyelids got exponentially heavier.

After class, I hit up some supermarchés to grab some ingredients for the caprese salads that Taylor and I were planning to make. 1 kg of tomatoes for 1 EUR is not too bad....

When I start feeling more rested, I'll update with some more interesting information, but I don't think I'm going to be doing much before Friday morning when we leave for AIX, Marseille, Cassis, Saint-Rémy, and Avignon.

Total Damages today:

Breakfast of Madeleines: ,80 EUR
Lunch at Resto U: 2,90 EUR
1 kg tomatoes: 1 EUR
Pesto: 1,53 EUR
Mozzarella balls: ,89 EUR each (I bought 2 = 1,78 EUR)

The Perfect Saturday Night in Paris

I woke up at around 12:30 today (which is pretty early when you consider that I went to bed at 6am), cleaned up the mess of clothes I left on the floor last night, poured myself a nice glass of orange juice and informed my parents that I was alive.

When Taylor woke up at around 2:30, we decided to pick up some groceries, make lunch, and catch up with eachother's lives. After a jaunt down to Biatrix for the usual 85 centimes Baguette Parisienne, we hopped over to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for omelettes and other things we wanted to have around the apt. We stocked up on corn, peas, tomatoes, and motzzarella (which is only 90 centimes here for a large ball, I love Paris!). Our huge bags of groceries came to only 13 EUR and Taylor picked up the tab since I got the laundry detergent, draino, and the previous round of groceries. After finishing our baguette en route as usual, we came home to make a huge lunch. I was in charge of food prep and Taylor prepared the omlettes in the pan. I think we've mastered the art of cooking in a small kitchen.

We set our beautiful lunches out on the table in my room, right next to the window that looks out onto rue Michel le Comte. It was a beautiful day and the breeze trickled in through the window. I couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon after a long Friday night. We took advantage of our beautiful surroundings and ate as if we were 2 parisiennes sitting at a local brasserie or café just down the street: we took our time and ate for 2 hours.

After feeling incredibly satisfied, I decided to take the newly draino-ed shower drain for a spin and was very, VERY satisfied that my shower did not turn into a foot bath.

Taylor was getting ready to go to a concert and I desperately wanted to take a walk along the Seine, so I skyped a bit with Jay before throwing on an echarpe and taking to the streets. I grabbed Jay's camera in hopes of capturing a few good shots.


I first trotted down to the Seine and walked along the side of the street closest to the river. Even though it was almost 7:30, the sun was just starting to set and the water looked beautiful. I hiked my way down past the local artists until I happened upon the Louvre, where the crystal pyramid was sparkling in the sunset. Pure magic surrounded me as I began to hear a cello out of one corridor. As I wandered around the Louvre's courtyard, I noticed that each corridor seemed to house the music of a different musician. I heard opera singers, a clarinet, and a cello all playing different tunes from different eras but they all seemed to combine into a magical melody that could have never come out so beautiful had it been planned.

Standing in the center of this virtual orchestra of street musicians, I looked toward the fountain and noticed that I wasn't the only one feeling the magic. Two parisians on velibs shared one of the most romantic moments I have seen thus far on my trip. To be honest, I was kind of jealous of how perfectly they looked in that instant -- just two lovers on bicycles sharing a kiss in front of a gorgeous fountain as a symphony surrounds the courtyard -- their bicycle tires even matched up.

But it wasn't before long that the sun set, the lovers parted, and a man took off his shoes, rolled up his pants, and jumped feet first into the fountain. One second the city is full of romance, the next, it's full of feet. I love Paris, I thought for the 1000th time.

The sun was coming down, so I decided to head back home. As I walked home, I was greeted by the cutest little face in a window of a store: a little kitty! He was so friendly -- just came right up to the window and stuck his little face out. I played some little games with him for a little while since I felt kind of bad that the poor thing was locked up in a store all by himself all night, but then another kitty came up to him and I realized he wasn't all alone.

I continued my walk home but stopped at the rue du rambuteau to get a little snack. When I saw that I could snag a banana nutella crêpe for only 3,50 EUR, I had made up my mind. It was as fresh, oozing, and delicious as anyone could have ever hoped for. I love Paris, I thought again.

I decided to follow the sound of some music down another street where I found some street performers playing a duet on what looked like a home-made marimba. I sat down with my handful of extacy and took in more of the Parisian magic. I had music, a crêpe and the centre pompidou behind me: how can Los Angeles even compare? All I need is to get my boyfriend up here and then you'll never get me to leave!

After my mini concert and excellent dessert, I saw a Monop' (Monoprix's little convenience store) and decided to hop in for some pictures. I saw the Sirop and was enticed by the colors, so I began snapping some photos with Jay's camera until a man in a security suit came up to me and said in a very serious French voice that I was prohibited from taking photos. I apologized profusely in my best French, saying that I wasn't from here and so I didn't know the rules. I thought about it for a second and realized that I really didn't know the rules. Apparently, it's perfectly acceptable to bathe in the fountains at the Louvre and drink in public but I can't take a photo in a convenience store? Tant pis! A little slap on the wrist for being a silly tourist is probably pretty good for me and now I've learned that I shouldn't just assume I can take pictures where ever I want. At least they let me keep the shots. :)


Feeling that my big camera faux pas was probably a sign to end the night, I walked back to the apt for a glass of Cola Light from a bottle that I bought at ED a few days ago. I look out my window and see the parisians out to play but feel totally satisfied having gone to my own concert at the Louvre, having tasted my parisian delicacy, and having gotten in trouble the Monop' police. Who could ask for anything more?

See my photo albums for more photos of today:

Fickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/42113654@N07/
Picasa: http://picasaweb.google.com/aspettami/Paris#
and http://picasaweb.google.com/aspettami/ParisOnAStudentSBudget#

Total Damage today:
Baguette: ,85 EUR
Crepe: 3,50 EUR

A night on rue princesse and at Cab

Last night I went out with Taylor and her friends from Trinity College. Everybody had a great time but of course I was the dorky one and most enjoyed the part of the evening when I got to pick up on French phrases from French people willing to amuse me for a couple of hours. They were really delighted that I was so interested and I ended up speaking the most French that I have spoken yet.

French phrases learned:

"Pétiller" as in, "les yeux pétille": the eyes sparkle, like when you're looking at a person you desire. The French man who taught me this one explained the phrase as, "it's like the bubbles in champagne are in her eyes."

"Il joue sur plusieurs tableaux": he's hitting on all the girls, he's playing the field. Let's just say French bars make for great people watching.

"Pichenette": A little flick made with the thumb and forfinger. The boys seemed to have a game where they would flick each other in the nose.

I must have heard meuf and mec/ type about a thousand times. And a bunch of other argot and verlan that I couldn't quite understand. I asked the guys about it and how often they use it. They told me that people only use it casually and rarely use more than a couple words. However, when I asked them how they felt about l'Acadamie Française, they all emphatically told me, "fuck l'Acadamie Française" and "we never speak the way they say we should … except when we need to get a job." I find it interesting that just a couple words can be seen as definant here, and a couple more can indicate one's social class and background.

All around Paris are reminders of the resistance in WWII and memorials to the French revolution, a time when the people were successful in changing the language, even if by just a few words. I wonder if these young men aren't just a greater part of that resistance mentality -- I wonder if maybe they secretly love l'Academie Français for giving them something to exercise that mentality on.

I think I'm done with the whole Paris party scene for now, but I'm glad I went because I got to use my French a lot. I actually enjoyed the first bar we went to (it helped that they were playing Michael Jackson). However, all of these dance clubs just seem a little too "exclusive," a quality which I have never adored about anything. When we went to Cab, it felt really cool to cut the line and get right in, but I couldn't help but think that this place was filled with more losers than at the bar. Everyone was so dressed up at Cab but the guys reeked of cologne, the girls couldn't dance, and no one was smiling. You couldn't hear yourself talk over the music (which was Amercian anyway), so no one communicated except through some vague interpretation of sign language. Don't get me wrong -- I like dancing -- but this place was full people who thought they were way too cool and I found myself missing that little pub on rue de princesse with the 3 guys who were just happy sitting around and talking to 4 American girls in French.

The Sketch Factor: La Drague

I am, for the most part, completely tolerant of cat-calls and things of that sort -- Especially in Paris where the catcalls consist of "t'es belle!" instead of "hey baby, nice ass." However, I draw the line when they don't stop, and get increasingly invasive. In America, I know how to deal with these wont-take-no-for-an-answer guys pretty well, but in France I have no idea what to say to them. I don't want to be rude, but at the same time, I do want them to leave me alone like all the other men who say their 2 or 3 words and continue walking. I've been pretending that I don't speak French, smile, shake my head, and walk away, but I would prefer a nice one-liner like we have in the states. "I'm sorry, I'm engaged," "I have AIDS," or even a simple, "Not interested."

So today when I left for Montmartre in an outfit that I thought was pretty cute, I didn't know what to say to the man who thought that I was pretty cute. I looked around me and noticed that I didn't look much different than the other girls on the metro, except that I was wearing very very tall shoes. So tall that when I was walking to the metro a little boy asked his mother if he could wear shoes like mine so he could be tall, too. Still, I remember seeing tons of girls in my neighborhood wearing even taller shoes, shoes that were brightly colored and would attract much more attention than my black suede closed toe heels. Maybe there is some unwritten "no heels in Montmartre" rule that I haven't figured out yet, or maybe I just got unlucky and happened to cross the path of the one sketchy guy in Montmartre.



After a gorgeous trip up and down the stairs of Sacre Coeur, I went one metro stop down to the local TATI where, as Samantha and Christelle had informed me, the prices were much more reasonable. I saw things I could actually afford! I bought 2 wine glasses (we only had 1 in the apt.) and a little hanging thing for the shower (we're girls, and we have a lot of shower products). At Monoprix, the shower stuff started at 9 EUR, but I got a large container for only 3 EUR at TATI. The pair of wine glasses was less than 5 EUR.

I finished up the afternoon with a walking trip to Monoprix and ED (in jeans and my most mundane looking shoes, of course). I picked up a quick pain au chocolat at Monoprix where they cost only ,60 EUR but are not quite as yummy as the ones at my local boulangerie. When I stopped by ED, I just intended to look around as I had at Monoprix, but then I saw that I could buy a whole kilogram of pasta for ,91 EUR and then there was the bordeaux for only 3,09 and the tomatoes... well lets just say I caved but honestly not the worst place give into temptation (did I mention the bordeaux? That wine sells for 13 EUR/ glass in many cafés around here, not that I've been looking...). My total damages at ED came to 5,53.

When Taylor came back from her weekend trip, I decided to take her for a walk along the Seine so that she could scream like a little girl the way I did yesterday. We celebrated her homecoming with dinner at a cute café right along the Seine. A prix fixe meal (I chose frites, steak and salad, and a fruit tart) with an orangina, a view of the seine, and a place to rest our tired feet came at 14,00 EUR a piece, and we even got a compliment from the chef about our French. :)

Might go out dancing later :)

Total damages thus far:

Wine glasses: 4,99 EUR
Shower container: 2,99 EUR
Pain au chocolat: ,60 EUR
1 kg spaghetti: ,91 EUR
3 vine ripened tomatoes: ,60 EUR
1 package of chunks of meat (I swear it looks delicious): ,90 EUR
bordeaux: 3,09 EUR

Bonjour, Paris!

Any country who's airline forgoes the overdone soft drinks and dry roasted peanuts combo in favor of complimentary champagne and petite baguettes is clearly getting an A in my book. But it didn't just stop after landing; the magic continued long after I made my way through customs, out the baggage claim and onto the RER.

On the RER I was surprised to find that every able bodied Frenchman was willing to help me lug my heavy bags up onto the train and point me in the right direction upon my arrival. Where did this myth about the French being snide and unhelpful come from anyway? Clearly not Paris, where I was informed in a very heavy French accent that "helping people looks cool, very chic," by one man who helped me carry a bag up a flight of stairs at a Metro station that was clearly not wheelchair accessible.

But don't go thinking that these RERs are only full of kind Frenchmen. As if it wasn't enough to take in the Parisian countryside on my way into the heart of the city, Paris decided to treat me with some local entertainment. That's right -- a woman got on the train and literally sang an aria out loud. God I love this place.

After grabbing my key, loading a monthly Metro pass onto my card, and sighing in exhaustion, I finally made it up to my apartment in the 3rd arrondissement. The apartment surprised me in that it has a lot more character than I expected for a building that basically acts as dorm residence for students most of the year. The was have this strange texture that vaguely reminds me of finger-painting -- only it's all a solid white. The curtains to my street-view window are held back by tiny fleur de lys shaped hooks and my room's furniture seems to be an advertisement for France itself (I have one red couch, one blue couch, and white walls, you get the picture). Additionally, dark wood is left exposed on both walls and ceilings in a way that is much more charming than I could possibly describe. And the hard wood floors make it a room any dancer in their right mind would envy.

After rearranging the place so that I could position my desk as close to the window as I could get it, I met my roommate, Taylor. We talked about little things we wanted to improve for the apt. and how both of us packed way too much stuff as per usual. Since Taylor had to catch her professors later tonight for a night tour of Paris, we decided to catch dinner at a local eatery to celebrate our arrival.


We quickly found a place that was serving happy hour specials (which in Paris seems to start at 5 and go till 10 at most places) and grabbed a 3 course prix fixe meal a piece. I chose a pina colada followed by the French onion soup (which has to have been the best French onion soup I've ever had in my life, but no surprises there), a chicken served with herbs from provence and roasted potatoes, and a crepe with nutella for dessert. I don't think I finished anything besides the pina colada even though I desperately wanted to keep eating. I think I would have been fine with just the French onion soup, but this was a celebration dinner, so I'm glad we sprung for the feast.

Two and 1/2 hours later, we managed to squeeze out of the restaurant just before Taylor had to meet her professors. As I walked the short distance back to our apartment, I felt rain on my face and as I looked up at the haussmannian architecture surrounding me, I really felt like I was walking home. My stomach full and my heart ablaze, I waded through the newly forming puddles into my room to put my feet up and thought, "this is the beginning of a beautiful romance."



Total Damage:

RER ticket: 9 EUR
Mothly Metro Pass: 56 EUR
3 course prix fixe: 15 EUR
1 HH pina colada: 5 EUR
Tip for singer on the train: 1 EUR