Back in Boston. Yep. No longer in Paris. Nope.
Highlight of the trip: Being a terrorist threat at London Heathrow Airport. Just a couple suggestions to readers: don't ever leave your passport on an airplane during a connecting flight, and don't ever, EVER go through doors that are marked Exit Only. You will be interrogated by many security officials and you will have to be personally escorted through the airport by some very scary people.
But nonetheless, it does admittedly feel great to see all of my friends and family. And cheap mexican food. I can't explain how much I missed cheap mexican food. It just doesn't exist in Europe. For whatever reason, Europeans see mexican food as "exotic" and therefore can justify selling a burrito for 25 euro.
So, yeah, we'll see how being back goes. I'm taking my parents to the Sox game tomorrow which isn't a bad way to spend my second night back.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
south of france
Ahhhhhh, the French Riviera. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
But seriously. I'm in love with the French Riviera. It was easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. All I wanted to do while I was there was finagle some sort of boating job or something and live there forever. I would work during the day, fish at night, catch my dinner and breakfast and be perfectly content just living right on the pebbly beaches for the rest of my life. Growing up in Delaware where going to the beach, vacationing at the beach, spending the majority of the summer in the sand, etc is pretty much the extent of the lifestyle, I naturally felt very comfortable and at home at the beach. But the joy and content that I felt in the south of France was on a whole new level. Indescribable, even.
The Mediterranean was absolutely breath-taking. The water was a beautiful deep, azure blue color (hmm, I wonder why that part of France is called the Azure Coast?), and as crystal clear as I've ever seen water. I've seen the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean a couple times in my life, and I would even go as far as to say the water was even prettier in France than there. It was much colder as well. That was perhaps my favorite part of all. It reminded me fondly of all my summers at the beach in Delaware, swimming in the cold, cold, cold Atlantic Ocean. The Caribbean is much to warm for my taste. I hate swimming in what feels like gross bath water. Blech.
I'm happy to report that the vacation was an absolute success. As I think I've mentioned before, I had always planned on taking a trip to the South soon as the weather got warm, even if I had to take a couple days and go by myself. No matter what, it was something I was going to do. I casually mentioned it to a couple people, Arianna included, just in case anyone else was interested in laying on the beach with me at the end of the semester. As time went on, I figured out when I wanted to go, Arianna was for sure in too, and we'd even done a fair amount of initial research. We figured we'd send out a mass email to all of our friends here to see if they wanted to tag along and surprisingly, about 95% of our friends wanted to go! It was fantastic! Never would I have imagined that so many people would be up for the trip, but I suppose that when other people plan your entire vacation for you and all you have to do is show up with money in your hand, who wouldn't jump on board?
Highlights of the trip include the food, the weather, our hostel (we stayed at the Villa St. Exupery in Nice), and the people. As apparent as it was that the citizens of the South hated the tourists as much as Parisians do, it's always nice to get away from the Parisian mentality and just drop back a gear and enjoy life.
But seriously. I'm in love with the French Riviera. It was easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. All I wanted to do while I was there was finagle some sort of boating job or something and live there forever. I would work during the day, fish at night, catch my dinner and breakfast and be perfectly content just living right on the pebbly beaches for the rest of my life. Growing up in Delaware where going to the beach, vacationing at the beach, spending the majority of the summer in the sand, etc is pretty much the extent of the lifestyle, I naturally felt very comfortable and at home at the beach. But the joy and content that I felt in the south of France was on a whole new level. Indescribable, even.
The Mediterranean was absolutely breath-taking. The water was a beautiful deep, azure blue color (hmm, I wonder why that part of France is called the Azure Coast?), and as crystal clear as I've ever seen water. I've seen the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean a couple times in my life, and I would even go as far as to say the water was even prettier in France than there. It was much colder as well. That was perhaps my favorite part of all. It reminded me fondly of all my summers at the beach in Delaware, swimming in the cold, cold, cold Atlantic Ocean. The Caribbean is much to warm for my taste. I hate swimming in what feels like gross bath water. Blech.
I'm happy to report that the vacation was an absolute success. As I think I've mentioned before, I had always planned on taking a trip to the South soon as the weather got warm, even if I had to take a couple days and go by myself. No matter what, it was something I was going to do. I casually mentioned it to a couple people, Arianna included, just in case anyone else was interested in laying on the beach with me at the end of the semester. As time went on, I figured out when I wanted to go, Arianna was for sure in too, and we'd even done a fair amount of initial research. We figured we'd send out a mass email to all of our friends here to see if they wanted to tag along and surprisingly, about 95% of our friends wanted to go! It was fantastic! Never would I have imagined that so many people would be up for the trip, but I suppose that when other people plan your entire vacation for you and all you have to do is show up with money in your hand, who wouldn't jump on board?
Highlights of the trip include the food, the weather, our hostel (we stayed at the Villa St. Exupery in Nice), and the people. As apparent as it was that the citizens of the South hated the tourists as much as Parisians do, it's always nice to get away from the Parisian mentality and just drop back a gear and enjoy life.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
End of classes and more France/US contrasts
We’re honing in on our last few weeks as genuine Parisians and I couldn’t be sadder.
Saturday was Fete de travail, aka Labor Day, throughout France. Experiencing a French labor day was perhaps one of the biggest culture shocks that I have experienced so far. Labor Day in France is nothing like Labor Day in the States. For one, everyone actually has the holiday off, as opposed to businesses in States where only corporate industries, private industries, governmental industries and any other cushy white-collar jobs get to have Labor Day off. The laborers, on the other hand, are forced to continue to labor on what justifiably should their day of reprieve.
France, on the other hand, grants everyone the day off, especially the laborers. Having lived here for several months now I think I understand the system well enough to knowingly assume that if the government doesn’t allow everything the right to a day off all hell would break loose, most likely in the form of violent protests. While I was slightly inconvenienced this morning when I couldn’t find a boulangerie to get my sandwich crudités thon, a large part of me was really happy to see that all of my favorite bakers had given themselves the day off. Bakers have got to be the hardest working individuals within the borders of l’hexagone, getting up at the crack of dawn to begin baking bread and whatnot, and really not stopping until after dinnertime. So, for that, I am willing to get my lazy ass up to make my sandwich myself for once.
Taking my typical, Saturday afternoon lazy stroll through the Bastille, I noted something rather different from anything I had ever seen in Bastille: HUGE mass protests with thousands of protesters, spectators and the like. Every street that branched off of the round-about was blocked off to traffic, police were EVERYWHERE and anyone with a microphone was shouting some spiel about how the government doesn't control them, how the workweek must be shortened, etc etc. One of the larger groups of protesters even promised a social revolution come July 13 (France's 4th of July, for those who don't know). I think that group was the one that intrigued me the most. Their message and presentation of said message kind of came off as crazed radicalism, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm considering making it back to the City of Light for Bastille Day just to see what kind of hell these radicals can raise.
In other news, classes are finally over! Not that I didn't enjoy all of my classes (sort of, heh), knowing that it's the beginning of May and classes are still in session and finals are even further away is incredibly annoying. I didn't realize how spoiled I had become by attending Northeastern and having spring classes end so early, but I reeeeally don't like having to be in classes this late. My attention span and overall interest in learning has been slowly dissipating for several weeks now and it's getting harder and harder to pretend to be interested in class. Not to mention that my thoughts have recently been almost entirely consumed by my impending vacation-within-a-vacation to Nice in a few days! Words simply cannot describe how stoked I am at the anticipation of this short trip to the Cote d'Azur.
That brings up another interesting point: Reading Day. AUP gives its students a "Reading Day" before finals week starts. Except that it's not just one day, it's about a week. Yet AUP still calls it Reading Day.
I just don't get AUP sometimes. They try so hard to come off as a respectable institution of higher education and then they go and do something like pretend a week is just a day, or making spring break 2+ weeks so that we have "more time to travel".... Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to returning to normalcy, like, for example, a place where a day is just a day and a week is a week.
Who really needs a whole week to "prepare" for finals, anyway? Talking to friends and other students, half of their profs aren't even assigning real finals anyway. And all those term papers that snuck up on us towards the end of the semester are all due by the last day of classes, so really though, what does the AUP administration really expect us to do with that "Reading Day"?
I'll stop the fashionable AUP rant there because I'm almost finished dealing with their shenanigans and I don't want to put a damper on my end-of-classes good mood.
Up next: Nice and beyond!
Saturday was Fete de travail, aka Labor Day, throughout France. Experiencing a French labor day was perhaps one of the biggest culture shocks that I have experienced so far. Labor Day in France is nothing like Labor Day in the States. For one, everyone actually has the holiday off, as opposed to businesses in States where only corporate industries, private industries, governmental industries and any other cushy white-collar jobs get to have Labor Day off. The laborers, on the other hand, are forced to continue to labor on what justifiably should their day of reprieve.
France, on the other hand, grants everyone the day off, especially the laborers. Having lived here for several months now I think I understand the system well enough to knowingly assume that if the government doesn’t allow everything the right to a day off all hell would break loose, most likely in the form of violent protests. While I was slightly inconvenienced this morning when I couldn’t find a boulangerie to get my sandwich crudités thon, a large part of me was really happy to see that all of my favorite bakers had given themselves the day off. Bakers have got to be the hardest working individuals within the borders of l’hexagone, getting up at the crack of dawn to begin baking bread and whatnot, and really not stopping until after dinnertime. So, for that, I am willing to get my lazy ass up to make my sandwich myself for once.
Taking my typical, Saturday afternoon lazy stroll through the Bastille, I noted something rather different from anything I had ever seen in Bastille: HUGE mass protests with thousands of protesters, spectators and the like. Every street that branched off of the round-about was blocked off to traffic, police were EVERYWHERE and anyone with a microphone was shouting some spiel about how the government doesn't control them, how the workweek must be shortened, etc etc. One of the larger groups of protesters even promised a social revolution come July 13 (France's 4th of July, for those who don't know). I think that group was the one that intrigued me the most. Their message and presentation of said message kind of came off as crazed radicalism, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm considering making it back to the City of Light for Bastille Day just to see what kind of hell these radicals can raise.
In other news, classes are finally over! Not that I didn't enjoy all of my classes (sort of, heh), knowing that it's the beginning of May and classes are still in session and finals are even further away is incredibly annoying. I didn't realize how spoiled I had become by attending Northeastern and having spring classes end so early, but I reeeeally don't like having to be in classes this late. My attention span and overall interest in learning has been slowly dissipating for several weeks now and it's getting harder and harder to pretend to be interested in class. Not to mention that my thoughts have recently been almost entirely consumed by my impending vacation-within-a-vacation to Nice in a few days! Words simply cannot describe how stoked I am at the anticipation of this short trip to the Cote d'Azur.
That brings up another interesting point: Reading Day. AUP gives its students a "Reading Day" before finals week starts. Except that it's not just one day, it's about a week. Yet AUP still calls it Reading Day.
I just don't get AUP sometimes. They try so hard to come off as a respectable institution of higher education and then they go and do something like pretend a week is just a day, or making spring break 2+ weeks so that we have "more time to travel".... Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to returning to normalcy, like, for example, a place where a day is just a day and a week is a week.
Who really needs a whole week to "prepare" for finals, anyway? Talking to friends and other students, half of their profs aren't even assigning real finals anyway. And all those term papers that snuck up on us towards the end of the semester are all due by the last day of classes, so really though, what does the AUP administration really expect us to do with that "Reading Day"?
I'll stop the fashionable AUP rant there because I'm almost finished dealing with their shenanigans and I don't want to put a damper on my end-of-classes good mood.
Up next: Nice and beyond!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Worlds Fair may be the greatest thing ever invented
This past Saturday was World's Fair at AUP, aka another AUP offering that enables kids to blow off all the steam that we're supposed to be suppressing due to all of our "stress" from our classes. Heh.
But aside from that, it was also another way for AUP to take advantage of the cultural hub that is their little community and expand the cultural horizons of its students. While I must admit that AUP students already have the advantage over NU and probably most American campuses with regards to their vast knowledge/acceptance/general interest in other cultures, I still find it amazing that AUP takes their cultural promotions so seriously. It's definitely something that not many American universities can successfully pull off, and I'm really happy that I have the opportunity to experience, albeit for a short time.
Back to World's Fair. For those of you who don't know what World's Fair: AUP style is, it's an afternoon in which any or all of the countries from which AUP students hail (some 100 different countries in all)can have a table where they can present their country through food, drink, photos, and the like. Most tables tapped into the AUP norm and elected to present whichever alcohol and mixed drinks are most common to their country while others also went the extra mile and prepared several dishes for us to munch on as well.
Something that I found particularly interesting what the number of regional stereotypes that were apparent as I moved from table to table. For example, the Balkan countries decided to team up to create a former-soviet-block super nation. What did they present? Loooooots of grain alcohol, most of which they made themselves. The English table? Beer and cadbury chocolates, further proving that the Brits don't have any decent cuisine. The Colombians, Peruvian, Chileans, and Argentinians all showed up at the Fair at noon already hammered, and by about 1pm, were all chanting their respective countries' futbol anthems. Same went for the Spaniards. Oh, and the American table? Sloppy joes, and a beer bong. Yep, that's America, folks. Even from the American perspective.
All-in-all, World's Fair is probably the greatest thing ever invented. For someone like me, who enjoys learning about new cultures through food and drink most of all, I was certainly in heaven.
I wish I had pictures to share, but once again I got caught up in the doing and forgot to pictorially document for prosperity. I'll be kicking myself in the future, for sure, for not taking any pictures of the Fair itself (I'm not counting the photos I took of the after-party/general shenanigans at the Champs de Mars because I don't think anyone should see the craziness that occurred there, haha), but I guess that's how things go sometimes, right?
But aside from that, it was also another way for AUP to take advantage of the cultural hub that is their little community and expand the cultural horizons of its students. While I must admit that AUP students already have the advantage over NU and probably most American campuses with regards to their vast knowledge/acceptance/general interest in other cultures, I still find it amazing that AUP takes their cultural promotions so seriously. It's definitely something that not many American universities can successfully pull off, and I'm really happy that I have the opportunity to experience, albeit for a short time.
Back to World's Fair. For those of you who don't know what World's Fair: AUP style is, it's an afternoon in which any or all of the countries from which AUP students hail (some 100 different countries in all)can have a table where they can present their country through food, drink, photos, and the like. Most tables tapped into the AUP norm and elected to present whichever alcohol and mixed drinks are most common to their country while others also went the extra mile and prepared several dishes for us to munch on as well.
Something that I found particularly interesting what the number of regional stereotypes that were apparent as I moved from table to table. For example, the Balkan countries decided to team up to create a former-soviet-block super nation. What did they present? Loooooots of grain alcohol, most of which they made themselves. The English table? Beer and cadbury chocolates, further proving that the Brits don't have any decent cuisine. The Colombians, Peruvian, Chileans, and Argentinians all showed up at the Fair at noon already hammered, and by about 1pm, were all chanting their respective countries' futbol anthems. Same went for the Spaniards. Oh, and the American table? Sloppy joes, and a beer bong. Yep, that's America, folks. Even from the American perspective.
All-in-all, World's Fair is probably the greatest thing ever invented. For someone like me, who enjoys learning about new cultures through food and drink most of all, I was certainly in heaven.
I wish I had pictures to share, but once again I got caught up in the doing and forgot to pictorially document for prosperity. I'll be kicking myself in the future, for sure, for not taking any pictures of the Fair itself (I'm not counting the photos I took of the after-party/general shenanigans at the Champs de Mars because I don't think anyone should see the craziness that occurred there, haha), but I guess that's how things go sometimes, right?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
"It's the final countdown!"
Just under 4 weeks left here, and I'm none too happy about it. I still have soooo much that I want to do while I'm here and I have no idea how I'm going to fit it all in. I've been making lists non-stop lately. Mostly mental lists, but lists nonetheless. Separate ones for all the museums I still want to visit or re-visit, the restaurants that I want to eat at, the presents I still need to purchase for friends and loved one, tokens and mementos for myself, friends who aren't going to be going back to Boston with me who I'd like to have some last one-on-one time with, etc etc etc.
Arianna has been making lists too. Hers are perhaps even more ridiculously involved and overwhelming than mine.
I've got about 293847923573 things I need to do for class too. AUP kills me. Seriously, I would hate to go here full time. For the last three months of the semester professors have given practically no work whatsoever. The only class that I've really had any kind of somewhat consistent work for is French, and even that's stretching it a bit. But now, as the semester is winding down, profs decided it's time to assign all those 10-page terms papers, 20-minute presentations and tons of readings that they forgot to assign at the beginning of the semester, not to mention the constant reminders of exams in a couple weeks. It's horrible. I don't know why this university condones spending the first 3/4 of the semester lackadaisically doing nothing and then expected students to work 24/7 at the end of the semester.
I feel like this has been particularly hard for me, and probably most of my fellow study abroad friends. Not only is this semester several weeks longer than what we're used to at Northeastern, but this semester has also been an anomaly of sorts. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that as study abroad students, our first priority isn't exactly getting a stellar education. Instead, we're much more preoccupied with learning to live in this new, different place and experiencing as much as we can. That in itself is much more exhausting than I think people realize. I mean, I certainly didn't anticipate how tiring just living would be. Traveling is another thing. It really takes the energy out of you. The planning, the packing, the traveling itself, the pictures, the maps, the reservations, getting around, barely sleeping in order to see as much as possible, it gets pretty tiring pretty fast. And 5 months of this really adds up after a while.
I feel bad for a lot of people, though, because there has a lot of events and overall fun things going on lately, especially since the weather has been so beautiful and it seems like everyone's locked up in their apartments or in the library rather than out and enjoying life. I just don't think it's fair on them, you know? I think I've been pretty good about refraining from complaining about or being too critical of AUP, even though criticizing AUP seems to be the most fashionable thing to do in the last couple years whether you are a full-time student or just visiting. But I just really don't think it's fair on students to give them so much work all at once.
I have this one professor who always says, "well, that's what makes you college students" in reply to anything. If we complain about having a million papers and exams and obligations at the same time, "that's what makes you college students". If we collectively mention that we weren't too fond of the reading he assigned, "that's what separates you as college students from high schoolers". It's the stupidest thing ever. The worst part is that this class is a 300-level class, which means we're all either juniors or seniors. We're not new to this college thing. If we have a problem with one of the readings he has assigned, it's not because it was "too long" or "really, really boring"; we've all had enough required readings in our day to know a well-written, effective or book from one that's not effective. And yet he trivializes our opinions. I find it really discouraging, to be honest.
On a MUCH happier note, I've more or less finalized my plans for Nice this week. 13 days until fun in the sun!! This trip is turning out to be better than I ever imagined. Long before I came to Paris, I had been planning on taking a trip to the South as soon as it gets warm. I didn't really imagine anyone would want to go with me, so I always figured I'd just couch surf and bum around by myself for a couple days. I mentioned it to Arianna verrry early in the semester just in case she'd be up for another trip with me. This particular trip came up several times over the course of the semester, with me always hesitating because I didn't know how much money I'd have by May. But once I realized I would be fine financially, we went ahead with planning our beach trip. It took a looooong time and lots of unnecessary stress, but we eventually made some final decisions and concrete plans.
Then we decided to offer everything up to our friends, just in case anyone else was interested in joining us. I figured a couple people would be on board, but in the end, there were about 12 of us altogether who were interested. Far more than I ever anticipated! So now, my little beach break after classes are over that I've had in the works for about 6 months now is essentially going to be our last horrah--our one last trip as a group before finals begin and before we all go our separate ways. I'm really excited!!
I'll be sure to dedicate an entire blog entry to Nice once I get back, because I know it's gonna derserve it.
Arianna has been making lists too. Hers are perhaps even more ridiculously involved and overwhelming than mine.
I've got about 293847923573 things I need to do for class too. AUP kills me. Seriously, I would hate to go here full time. For the last three months of the semester professors have given practically no work whatsoever. The only class that I've really had any kind of somewhat consistent work for is French, and even that's stretching it a bit. But now, as the semester is winding down, profs decided it's time to assign all those 10-page terms papers, 20-minute presentations and tons of readings that they forgot to assign at the beginning of the semester, not to mention the constant reminders of exams in a couple weeks. It's horrible. I don't know why this university condones spending the first 3/4 of the semester lackadaisically doing nothing and then expected students to work 24/7 at the end of the semester.
I feel like this has been particularly hard for me, and probably most of my fellow study abroad friends. Not only is this semester several weeks longer than what we're used to at Northeastern, but this semester has also been an anomaly of sorts. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that as study abroad students, our first priority isn't exactly getting a stellar education. Instead, we're much more preoccupied with learning to live in this new, different place and experiencing as much as we can. That in itself is much more exhausting than I think people realize. I mean, I certainly didn't anticipate how tiring just living would be. Traveling is another thing. It really takes the energy out of you. The planning, the packing, the traveling itself, the pictures, the maps, the reservations, getting around, barely sleeping in order to see as much as possible, it gets pretty tiring pretty fast. And 5 months of this really adds up after a while.
I feel bad for a lot of people, though, because there has a lot of events and overall fun things going on lately, especially since the weather has been so beautiful and it seems like everyone's locked up in their apartments or in the library rather than out and enjoying life. I just don't think it's fair on them, you know? I think I've been pretty good about refraining from complaining about or being too critical of AUP, even though criticizing AUP seems to be the most fashionable thing to do in the last couple years whether you are a full-time student or just visiting. But I just really don't think it's fair on students to give them so much work all at once.
I have this one professor who always says, "well, that's what makes you college students" in reply to anything. If we complain about having a million papers and exams and obligations at the same time, "that's what makes you college students". If we collectively mention that we weren't too fond of the reading he assigned, "that's what separates you as college students from high schoolers". It's the stupidest thing ever. The worst part is that this class is a 300-level class, which means we're all either juniors or seniors. We're not new to this college thing. If we have a problem with one of the readings he has assigned, it's not because it was "too long" or "really, really boring"; we've all had enough required readings in our day to know a well-written, effective or book from one that's not effective. And yet he trivializes our opinions. I find it really discouraging, to be honest.
On a MUCH happier note, I've more or less finalized my plans for Nice this week. 13 days until fun in the sun!! This trip is turning out to be better than I ever imagined. Long before I came to Paris, I had been planning on taking a trip to the South as soon as it gets warm. I didn't really imagine anyone would want to go with me, so I always figured I'd just couch surf and bum around by myself for a couple days. I mentioned it to Arianna verrry early in the semester just in case she'd be up for another trip with me. This particular trip came up several times over the course of the semester, with me always hesitating because I didn't know how much money I'd have by May. But once I realized I would be fine financially, we went ahead with planning our beach trip. It took a looooong time and lots of unnecessary stress, but we eventually made some final decisions and concrete plans.
Then we decided to offer everything up to our friends, just in case anyone else was interested in joining us. I figured a couple people would be on board, but in the end, there were about 12 of us altogether who were interested. Far more than I ever anticipated! So now, my little beach break after classes are over that I've had in the works for about 6 months now is essentially going to be our last horrah--our one last trip as a group before finals begin and before we all go our separate ways. I'm really excited!!
I'll be sure to dedicate an entire blog entry to Nice once I get back, because I know it's gonna derserve it.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Faire des courses
Faire des courses is one of my favorite terms in French. It essentially means to go shopping, but to be more specific, when you say that you are going to "faire des courses" you mean that you are going to run errands. You'll probably go to the super market, the butcher, the patisserie and boulangerie, maybe Nicolas for some nice wine for dinner, perhaps the fromagerie and post office as well. You get the point.
You can also say faire des courses when referring to running track or running a race as well.
This is why faire des courses is one of my favorite French terms. The fact that you use the same term for both actions is terribly ironic but the most obvious thing in the world at the same time.
Paris, (and I would almost go as far as to say all of France, but not quite as much as Paris), is known for its specialization of products. The reason you have to go to about 6-12 different stores in order to successfully "faire des courses" is because of specialization.
Where I live on rue de Rivoli, if I stand on either of my balconies and look out at either rue Sainte Antoinne or towards the heart of the Marais, I see: two super markets, several boulangeries, a mielerie (yep, that's a honey store, no lie), a chocolaterie, a fromagerie, two Nicolas, several Jewish/kosher delicatessens, several pharmacies, two butchers (one kosher, one not), a vaisellerie (for dishes), several patisseries, as well as restos and the like.
So the irony in the faire des courses terminology is that if you indeed run errands on, say, a Saturday afternoon, it is exactly like running track or running a race, because you have to run around until you're nearly dying of exhaustion. And if you're me, you have to lug everything you bought up five flights of stairs, and you're about ready to keel over by the time you get to your apartment.
But the thing is, if I had the choice, I wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly. When I was in London a couple of months ago and Delanie and I were grocery shopping for the week, being in a huge supermarket nearly turned my stomach. I walked up and down the isles literally in awe of everything that this supermarket had. The worst was when I reached the bread isle. I stood there dumbfounded by the idea of having an entire isle dedicated to bread. There was easily 25 different types of sliced bread there. I thought to myself, why do people need 25 different bread options? One brand that sells white (or pain Americain as they call it in France), whole wheat, rye, and perhaps a sourdough or multi-grain is perfectly sufficient. If you want something else, I suggest finding a fresh bakery where you can get better bread. I couldn't get over the culture shock, and that was just the difference between England and France.
One time I needed to sow a couple buttons on my jacket. It was a Sunday afternoon, and naturally nothing was open except the epiceries and a couple various pharmacies. After striking out pathetically at all the epiceries, I tried a couple pharmacies. The first couple I went into I just looked around and left when I couldn't find a needle and thread. At the last one, I decided it would be beneficial to ask the pharmacienne for help. Naturally I couldn't remember how to say "to sow" or "needle" in French, so I had to go with the word for thread and then act out as best I could what I needed. After a few minutes of the woman at me like I had two heads (no worries, I've definitely gotten used to this look by now. I'm completely unfazed by it, actually), she finally understood what I wanted. Relieved, I said, "Fantastique! L'avez-vous?" After looking at me again like I had two heads, she erupted with laughter and said, "non, non, non, madame! C'est une pharmacie! Nous ne vendons pas cela ici! Seulement des pharmaceutiques, madame." As if selling thread and needle was the craziest thing in the world to sell in a pharmacy!
I immediately flashed back to all the times in Boston when I was either too lazy to walk to Shaws or too poor to pay for over-priced groceries at Wolly's and instead opted to do my grocery shopping at CVS. You can buy botox, reading glasses, and perfume at Parisian pharmacies, but a needle in thread is the most absurd thing ever suggested.
I didn't get it at the time, but I get it now. It's all about specialization. A pharmacie just isn't the place to get a thread and needle. Now that I've lived here for several months, I wouldn't even think twice about why it would be convenient to sell that in pharmacies. If I needed some black thread on a Sunday and supermarkets weren't open, I wouldn't even hesitate to walk the 15 minutes into the Chinese garment district in the 3rd to buy some thread. It's just how it is.
For that reason, I'm kind of terrified to go back to the States. If I had been living in Paris for all of 5 weeks and got overwhelmed in a London supermarket, I don't know how I'll be able to handle going back to American supermarkets after living here for 5 months.
I can imagine throwing a fit because I won't be able to find warm baguettes or croissant d'abricots whenever I want. Or fresh tuna and crudites on a baguette when I want something light and refreshing for lunch.
This is what worries me most about going back home next month.
You can also say faire des courses when referring to running track or running a race as well.
This is why faire des courses is one of my favorite French terms. The fact that you use the same term for both actions is terribly ironic but the most obvious thing in the world at the same time.
Paris, (and I would almost go as far as to say all of France, but not quite as much as Paris), is known for its specialization of products. The reason you have to go to about 6-12 different stores in order to successfully "faire des courses" is because of specialization.
Where I live on rue de Rivoli, if I stand on either of my balconies and look out at either rue Sainte Antoinne or towards the heart of the Marais, I see: two super markets, several boulangeries, a mielerie (yep, that's a honey store, no lie), a chocolaterie, a fromagerie, two Nicolas, several Jewish/kosher delicatessens, several pharmacies, two butchers (one kosher, one not), a vaisellerie (for dishes), several patisseries, as well as restos and the like.
So the irony in the faire des courses terminology is that if you indeed run errands on, say, a Saturday afternoon, it is exactly like running track or running a race, because you have to run around until you're nearly dying of exhaustion. And if you're me, you have to lug everything you bought up five flights of stairs, and you're about ready to keel over by the time you get to your apartment.
But the thing is, if I had the choice, I wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly. When I was in London a couple of months ago and Delanie and I were grocery shopping for the week, being in a huge supermarket nearly turned my stomach. I walked up and down the isles literally in awe of everything that this supermarket had. The worst was when I reached the bread isle. I stood there dumbfounded by the idea of having an entire isle dedicated to bread. There was easily 25 different types of sliced bread there. I thought to myself, why do people need 25 different bread options? One brand that sells white (or pain Americain as they call it in France), whole wheat, rye, and perhaps a sourdough or multi-grain is perfectly sufficient. If you want something else, I suggest finding a fresh bakery where you can get better bread. I couldn't get over the culture shock, and that was just the difference between England and France.
One time I needed to sow a couple buttons on my jacket. It was a Sunday afternoon, and naturally nothing was open except the epiceries and a couple various pharmacies. After striking out pathetically at all the epiceries, I tried a couple pharmacies. The first couple I went into I just looked around and left when I couldn't find a needle and thread. At the last one, I decided it would be beneficial to ask the pharmacienne for help. Naturally I couldn't remember how to say "to sow" or "needle" in French, so I had to go with the word for thread and then act out as best I could what I needed. After a few minutes of the woman at me like I had two heads (no worries, I've definitely gotten used to this look by now. I'm completely unfazed by it, actually), she finally understood what I wanted. Relieved, I said, "Fantastique! L'avez-vous?" After looking at me again like I had two heads, she erupted with laughter and said, "non, non, non, madame! C'est une pharmacie! Nous ne vendons pas cela ici! Seulement des pharmaceutiques, madame." As if selling thread and needle was the craziest thing in the world to sell in a pharmacy!
I immediately flashed back to all the times in Boston when I was either too lazy to walk to Shaws or too poor to pay for over-priced groceries at Wolly's and instead opted to do my grocery shopping at CVS. You can buy botox, reading glasses, and perfume at Parisian pharmacies, but a needle in thread is the most absurd thing ever suggested.
I didn't get it at the time, but I get it now. It's all about specialization. A pharmacie just isn't the place to get a thread and needle. Now that I've lived here for several months, I wouldn't even think twice about why it would be convenient to sell that in pharmacies. If I needed some black thread on a Sunday and supermarkets weren't open, I wouldn't even hesitate to walk the 15 minutes into the Chinese garment district in the 3rd to buy some thread. It's just how it is.
For that reason, I'm kind of terrified to go back to the States. If I had been living in Paris for all of 5 weeks and got overwhelmed in a London supermarket, I don't know how I'll be able to handle going back to American supermarkets after living here for 5 months.
I can imagine throwing a fit because I won't be able to find warm baguettes or croissant d'abricots whenever I want. Or fresh tuna and crudites on a baguette when I want something light and refreshing for lunch.
This is what worries me most about going back home next month.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Chris in Paris and that pesky little politics issue
I had my first visitor this weekend!! Chris decided to take a couple vacation days from coop and take the looooong trip across the pond to spend a long weekend with me in Paris. I'm jealous of him because he got a direct flight out of Boston and I have to spend considerably more time in Heathrow airport than I would like. He also got to fly airfrance, which I'm considerably jealous of as well.
But I digress. Chris came to visit me, and although I can't speak for him, I think it was an all-around successful weekend.
I realized this weekend how much I enjoy introducing outsiders to this fun, exciting, different life that I live over here. In many ways it was very surreal, because although Chris and I have been the best of friends for a couple years now, I sometimes felt like I had to re-introduce him to myself. While I maintain that I'm essentially the same person I've always been, and that Paris has not, I repeat, has NOT changed who I've always been, certain aspects of my life and personality are different here. And for that reason it felt a bit surreal at times.
The poor guy stayed at a small hotel directly across the street from me and not only did he have to endure my 5 flights of winding elevatorless stairs, he also had to endure 5 flights of perhaps the windiest, narrowest, steepest stairs in existence. Welcome to Paris. They apparently have a fear of lifts here, because elevators are a rare commodity in buildings older than about 40 years.
On a completely different note, I recently had a conversation with a french man that I met in a bar that I found rather unsettling. I'll preface by saying that the French love Obama. Like, really love him. Like, men, women, and children probably all want to have his babies. I'm sure I've mentioned this at least once before. As an American living in Paris, I find that this has both its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, I'm able to live here freely without feeling like I'm being judged and discredited for the mistakes and wrong-doings of my nation's government. I encountered a bit of hostility very early on in my time here one night on the metro. My friends and I all got onto the car preparing to go out somewhere, I think to a club or something when we ran into a few young french guys. They all did the typical, "I see zat yoo arr Americaine. Where arr yoo frome?" I couldn't even get out my reply before he delved into the Bush-bashing. Except, it wasn't so much Bush-bashing as it was American-public bashing for electing such an individual to office. This caused me to go into liberal American defense mode and defend my country. I countered with the standard, "well, the American public didn't really elect him into office, we just re-elected him in 2004." But of course the French don't know of/understand the electoral college whatsoever (I can't really blame them, as most Americans don't really understand it either) and when I tried to explain my assertion, they had to idea what I was talking about. Of course. Thankfully, all of this quickly ended once Obama was inaugurated.
Going back to Obama, having him as president when the French like him so much also has its disadvantages. The main one being that it's very hard to have a critical discussion/argument about Obama with the French. It's hard to believe, but it's true. The president was recently in Strasbourg for a town-hall style discussion during his European tour. I just happened to be in the AMEX for lunch while he was speaking and I was able to watch it in its entirety. At the end of the speech he quoted the French motto, "liberté, egalité, fraternité", except he said it backwards. Now, it obviously didn't bother me any. And in truth, had he messed up the US's "In God we trust" I probably wouldn't have cared either. But the French, you see, are.... different. They take these types of things muuuuch more seriously. Like, don't insult their country unless you have a death wish. After Obama made his error, everyone in the bar let out a collective and surprised gasp. Had he just messed up the French motto in France? The entire country is probably watching this right now, what's gonna happen? Everyone in the bar and I hesitantly looked around the bar to see if any French were among us, in case we had to do damage control. Make sure no pint glasses were broken or chairs thrown at televisions or something. But nobody did anything.
Shortly thereafter, I was in a bar talking to another random French man that I struck up a conversation with. I mentioned this incident to see how he felt about it. He didn't care whatsoever. In fact, he still managed to find a way to defend Obama, saying something like, "well, yoo see, he does not, errr, parler le francais tres bien. I understand that he makes mistakes in ze francais." I was floored. I think I mumbled something about how it seems a bit insulting to come into one's country. In all honestly, I thought his error was easily up there with Kennedy's "Ich bin ein Berliner" flub. But not the French, apparently. He wouldn't even let me get a defensive word in against Obama; any time I tried to say something, he'd shut me up with "Ce n'est pas grave" or something to that effect. Had Bush made that mistake the entirety of France would probably have declared him the anti-Christ, and yet Obama can do no wrong. I don't get it. Perhaps they are so desperate to maintain that Obama is the savior of the free world that they are willing to put aside any and all criticisms that they might have. Defend him to the death or something. I don't know.
I'm really looking forward to getting back to the States just for the poilitics. Electing Obama to office was probably one of the biggest events in our nation's history, and it's been hard being gone for the majority of his first 100 days. I think I would have prefered to be in the States to see how the American public is reacting than in France who apparently think he's immortal or something ridiculous like that.
But I digress. Chris came to visit me, and although I can't speak for him, I think it was an all-around successful weekend.
I realized this weekend how much I enjoy introducing outsiders to this fun, exciting, different life that I live over here. In many ways it was very surreal, because although Chris and I have been the best of friends for a couple years now, I sometimes felt like I had to re-introduce him to myself. While I maintain that I'm essentially the same person I've always been, and that Paris has not, I repeat, has NOT changed who I've always been, certain aspects of my life and personality are different here. And for that reason it felt a bit surreal at times.
The poor guy stayed at a small hotel directly across the street from me and not only did he have to endure my 5 flights of winding elevatorless stairs, he also had to endure 5 flights of perhaps the windiest, narrowest, steepest stairs in existence. Welcome to Paris. They apparently have a fear of lifts here, because elevators are a rare commodity in buildings older than about 40 years.
On a completely different note, I recently had a conversation with a french man that I met in a bar that I found rather unsettling. I'll preface by saying that the French love Obama. Like, really love him. Like, men, women, and children probably all want to have his babies. I'm sure I've mentioned this at least once before. As an American living in Paris, I find that this has both its advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, I'm able to live here freely without feeling like I'm being judged and discredited for the mistakes and wrong-doings of my nation's government. I encountered a bit of hostility very early on in my time here one night on the metro. My friends and I all got onto the car preparing to go out somewhere, I think to a club or something when we ran into a few young french guys. They all did the typical, "I see zat yoo arr Americaine. Where arr yoo frome?" I couldn't even get out my reply before he delved into the Bush-bashing. Except, it wasn't so much Bush-bashing as it was American-public bashing for electing such an individual to office. This caused me to go into liberal American defense mode and defend my country. I countered with the standard, "well, the American public didn't really elect him into office, we just re-elected him in 2004." But of course the French don't know of/understand the electoral college whatsoever (I can't really blame them, as most Americans don't really understand it either) and when I tried to explain my assertion, they had to idea what I was talking about. Of course. Thankfully, all of this quickly ended once Obama was inaugurated.
Going back to Obama, having him as president when the French like him so much also has its disadvantages. The main one being that it's very hard to have a critical discussion/argument about Obama with the French. It's hard to believe, but it's true. The president was recently in Strasbourg for a town-hall style discussion during his European tour. I just happened to be in the AMEX for lunch while he was speaking and I was able to watch it in its entirety. At the end of the speech he quoted the French motto, "liberté, egalité, fraternité", except he said it backwards. Now, it obviously didn't bother me any. And in truth, had he messed up the US's "In God we trust" I probably wouldn't have cared either. But the French, you see, are.... different. They take these types of things muuuuch more seriously. Like, don't insult their country unless you have a death wish. After Obama made his error, everyone in the bar let out a collective and surprised gasp. Had he just messed up the French motto in France? The entire country is probably watching this right now, what's gonna happen? Everyone in the bar and I hesitantly looked around the bar to see if any French were among us, in case we had to do damage control. Make sure no pint glasses were broken or chairs thrown at televisions or something. But nobody did anything.
Shortly thereafter, I was in a bar talking to another random French man that I struck up a conversation with. I mentioned this incident to see how he felt about it. He didn't care whatsoever. In fact, he still managed to find a way to defend Obama, saying something like, "well, yoo see, he does not, errr, parler le francais tres bien. I understand that he makes mistakes in ze francais." I was floored. I think I mumbled something about how it seems a bit insulting to come into one's country. In all honestly, I thought his error was easily up there with Kennedy's "Ich bin ein Berliner" flub. But not the French, apparently. He wouldn't even let me get a defensive word in against Obama; any time I tried to say something, he'd shut me up with "Ce n'est pas grave" or something to that effect. Had Bush made that mistake the entirety of France would probably have declared him the anti-Christ, and yet Obama can do no wrong. I don't get it. Perhaps they are so desperate to maintain that Obama is the savior of the free world that they are willing to put aside any and all criticisms that they might have. Defend him to the death or something. I don't know.
I'm really looking forward to getting back to the States just for the poilitics. Electing Obama to office was probably one of the biggest events in our nation's history, and it's been hard being gone for the majority of his first 100 days. I think I would have prefered to be in the States to see how the American public is reacting than in France who apparently think he's immortal or something ridiculous like that.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Still here...believe it or not
Yeah, so I realize that I haven't been updating this thing as often as I should. I don't really feel like I have much to say, though. That's probably not good. I'll have to work on coming up with new topics of discussion.
I've also been super busy, which has undoubtedly been a major reason for my lack of updates.
My 21st birthday was last week. Like normal, I made a point of dragging my birthday festivities out over a week, because my birthday week is always my favorite time of the year. My celebrating began two days before my birthday when I went to the France-Lithuania football game, as my present to myself. And let me tell you: my present to myself did NOT let me down. No sir. It was everything I was hoping for and more. First of all, La Stade
Annie was there celebrating her birthday too, which was a day before mine. It was really nice to get to celebrate with her, because the football match was essentially her birthday present to herself as well.
On another note, it was the first real, official sporting event at which I was allowed to (legally) drink. While I thought that freedom would feel pretty damn good, in the end it wasn't all that special. I mean, yeah, you can have a beer and cheer for your team, and that's all well-and-good, but who the hell wants to pay 7.50euro for that beer anyway? And while I refused to fork over that much money for a beer, some friends got some and they tasted like cat piss (or rather, what I imagine cat piss would taste like). So... yeah. Being able to drink legally in
Thursday night I broke my own rule of not going out on Thursday nights because of much work I always have to do for my shoot-me-in-the-eye-Fridays. Arianna, Kashka and I walked over to Bastille to my favorite, favorite, favorite bar in all of
Friday night was the big night. After getting away with murder in all of my classes by milking the birthday card, I had a wonderful Mexican meal prepared for me by a couple of my cuisine club ladies for my birthday. Let me tell you, if there is any single quintessentially American thing that I miss here in
After my birthday dinner, I was treated to bar-hopping with Kashka and some friends at our favorite Scottish bars. I'll leave the details out, but it was a really, really great time, and definitely a great way to spend one's 21st birthday.
Amsterdam followed my birthday. After getting home and crashing into my bed at approximately 5:30 in the morning, I had to be up at 7am to catch my train to Amsterdam. Not exactly the most ideal situation, especially because I was going to Amsterdam with my Jewish History class. Yeah. And since I had been milking the birthday thing the whole day before, my professor took one look at me and goes, "Jesus Christ, it looks like you had a good 21st birthday. Are you even going to be able to function this weekend?" I believe I groaned in reply and proceeded to pass out in my seat for the entirety of the train ride.
Again, I won't go into all the incriminating details, but I had a fantastic time. The.... architecture was lovely. As were the canals.... and other things I saw while I was there. Heh.
And some pictures:
But yeah, so this was another one of those class trips, and let me tell you, as I've gushed about before, class trips are still the greatest things in the world! I'll stop there, since I've already dedicated a journal entry to this topic after my Madrid trip, but my love for class trips still remains, and I still maintain that NU should incorporate those into their classes. I don't know how, but they should. They are a great opportunity for all involved.
After visiting Amsterdam, I realized how much living in Paris has affected my mentality and the way I view what clothes people wear and how they wear them. Now, I'll preface what I'm going to say by stating a rather obvious and well-known fact: Paris is the fashion capital of the world. Small dogs run around the city dressed better than I'll ever know how to. It's a sad and surreal fact, but it is nonetheless true. So, I was in Amsterdam. And... to put it one way, people in Amsterdam don't exactly dress like Parisians. Not just the tourists, but the locals too. So during the two days that I was visiting, and saw dozens of people just walking the streets in sweats and t-shirts, I couldn't get over how appalling they looked. I couldn't even make sense of how or why they were dressed that way. It seemed the craziest, most absurd thing I've ever witnessed. Soon after I got back to Paris I was talking about the "fashion" of Amsterdam with a friend. I told her how horribly everyone dressed and how I couldn't believe anyone would go out in public like that. And in complete surprise, she replies, "wow, I didn't think I'd ever hear you mock the way someone chooses to dress. You sound like a true Parisian."
That leads me to my final thought. I've often discussed how I feel about assimilating to the local culture, and this is a perfect example of assimilation without even realizing that I'm assimilating. My general stance on this whole issue has been: just go with it; if assimilation happens, it happens, or, if I wake up proud to be an American and want all of Paris to know that I'm an American, so be it. That being said, after being faced with the harsh reality that whether I want to or not, I'm adapting quite easily to this culture. And I don't think I'm happy about it.
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