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 France was freaking PACKED with people!! There were 80,000 people there and probably 70,000 French national flags. Boy, that really got me. People say that Americans are really nationalistic (and I would most definitely agree), but at least for that night, I would almost say that French nationalism trumped American nationalism. I've never seen so many French flags in my life! And it was wicked cool. Especially in the 76th minute or something, when France finally scored the one and only goal of the match when the entire stadium erupted with commotion and all you could see was the Bleu, Blanc et Rouge proudly waving all throughout the stadium. And while I don't usually care about or respond well to overt nationalistic sentiments, I have to admit, I was happy to be there amongst my adoptive countrymen proudly cheering for my hostland.

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 Europe doesn't always have its perks.

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 Paris, to have a couple birthday drinks at midnight. I couldn't think of a better way to ring in my 21st here in Europe than having a couple pints with a couple of my best ladies. The free drinks didn't hurt either, haha.

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 Paris, it is cheap Mexican food. While Mexican food can be found in Europe, it's not in the way you get it in America. Essentially, "mexican" food in Europe is exotic cuisine. If you go to a Mexican restaurant, be prepared to pay an arm and a leg for a tiny, tiny quesadilla. And by quesadilla a don't mean a deliciously greasy little number oozing with artery-clogging cheese and questionable chicken product and mushy tomatoes. No. A quesadilla in Europe consists of a super thin layer of gruyere and a few sautéed mushrooms. And don't even think about asking for salsa or guac to accompany your "traditional Mexican cuisine". No, no. I'm convinced that Europeans have no clue what either of these two items are. You'd think they'd be able to find a decent salsa or guac recipe if they insist on marketing their food as traditional Mexican. Apparently not. Arianna claims to have found a good, cheap Tex-Mex restaurant off of St. Michel, somewhere near Odéon. I'll let you know my verdict after I try it out. I'm skeptical, though.

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.