Schumann to Scala

Well, Tuesday was an early day. I had a European Business midterm, which basically consisted of me regurgitating everything I have read for the class since the first day...which does not actually amount to much, so it was fine. My hand was ready to fall off after that exam, easy, but no matter.
I wasn't feeling super hot that day, so I took in an easy day, napped a bit, then went for a nice walk all around the city, ended early.

On Wednesday, it was roasting hot, so I concluded to wear a dress (which, those who know me know I never wear those things, let alone own them). I felt cute. My friends made fun of me for "dressing up", but no matter. I bought a pair of cheap heels that would actually function with the dress, resulting in a good amount of blood sliding off of my skin, down the shoe, and onto the ground. Several men in the Métro pannicked and tried to get my attention, while I simply replied "yes, thanks, I know...".
I met up with Pierre to go to Château de Vincennes (just east of Paris, essentially a castle-cum military office park. There was a free quintet concert playing a few delightful tunes there; Rossini, Mozart, Schuman, Haydn, and Gervaise. Everyone there, absolutely everyone, was someone in and/or related to the military. I felt slightly out of place, or like a rebel if you will. The concert was brief and pleasant. The evening was beautiful. But the moral in the group was low, and conversation was not flowing as fluidly as I usually can muster up. We got a drink at a nearby café, and then called it a day. I got home a bit discouraged and in pain (ahem, I was bleeding).

Thursday started off slow, and in sandals (my feet were swollen and sad). I met up with my marketing group to conclude our project topic would, in fact, be on Campbell's Soup's marketing strategies. Franglish was had.
Class happened, took a test in it, and that was done with.
Choir was particularly interesting because José-Louis was in a punchy mood and kept on distracting me while we sang, and while I completely sight-read the new music to the choir. Enchantée. But I had my fun, too, so I cannot complain too much. Fellow tenor Etienne actually decided to make an appearance and help me with our singing parts....but then I realized that I'd be distracted two-fold on BOTH sides of me: José-Louis playing the flirtacious punk and Etienne as the nosey colleague.
After practice (I was famished), Liisa offered to go to Les Deux Magots for dinner. Thinking, yes, a pleasant hearty French meal in St.Germain de Prés. A few glasses of wine, an entrée, a plat, and a dessert.........we both got similar stuff.....amounting to 85Euros total. AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! And my dinner was misunderstood; I thought I had ordered a big steak meal called Carpaccio, and the man comes out with this plate basically lined with super-fine raw meat. I was devastated. Good meal, overall, though. And Liisa and I, of course, discussed men, her marriage, our plans, and everything else under the sun. I'm sure we spoke loudly and that people hated us, but it was a moment straight from the movies, so we relished in it.

After class on Friday, I met up with Pierre to pass on a book for his thesis from my library. Luckily (though unfortunately, I didn't have the time that he had for once), we were both in better moods than the last time and talked more, but I then ended up running late to my lunch date at Tokyorama with Paz and some of the French girls from class. The lunch was decent, and mostly it was Paz and I explaining to the girls just what NYC is like.
Ran home and put on yet another dress (for Liisa's birthday dinner) and met up with Liisa to do some fast shoe shopping pre-dinner. We had a great long walk, and she settled on some fabulous(ly expensive) heels. Liisa (and I) is very adverse to wearing skirts and dresses because we are super self-conscious about our bodies, so the agreement was that I'd wear a dress so that she would feel alright and more comfortable on her special night.
Reservations for 14 at this massive resto, Pastapapá, nearby Opéra. The restaurant was alright; very, very American. The food was alright, and in big proportions, but you could tell it was a chain resto. But I enjoyed my food, and I was sitting next to José-Louis and Nicolas, forcing me to stumble in French all dinner. Brandon, though (who is far better in French than me), got them to talk about politics and social issues, so my nearby companion Rimi and I sat there confused.
Afterward the dinner, I should have gone home, but was peer pressured to go to this Café Oz Australian Bar/Club with my buddies. That means funky dancing in a 50's style dress and open-toed heels. Awkward..... And I was not in the mood to be a big loud club, so I agreed with Lorena to catch the Métro home before it was too late. Though, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Rahul get funky and Peter look like a sexy tortured soul.

Saturday, oh man...well, I went running around my area to find BAY LEAVES for my dinner, to no avail. I am frantically trying to make 2 dishes for roughly 12 people (with the help of Rimi and Brandon), realizing that most of the people coming to dinner are friends of friends and I've never met before.....and I'm sending out Paz and Brandon to grab other things for me while I try to not burn the Jambalaya or Casserole. It was hectic. To be chased with Rahul and Peter informing us they, in fact weren't showing up (claiming they didn't know it was still on, THOUGH it is a weekly event...). It ended up being alright because I had just enough food for everyone anyways.
The dinner went really well. José came with one of his other Saint-Cyr buddies and a guy from Bulgaria that he rock climbs with. They were really nice guys, but sometimes their French was too fast for me to follow. We talked, debated, I mostly cleaned and listened..... Lorena swung by, and I made brownies from scratch for her, with the help of José (who told me that stirring the brownie mix was a man's job). Apparently we were a little too loud in the kitchen because on of my neighbors yelled at us to quiet down. Though, we were just talking and mixing brownie mix....
Everyone agreed later on to go clubbing at this place La Scala over by the Louvre. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to stereotypical French diskothèque, and I really actually enjoyed myelf! Yes, of course, there was a problem before about where it was, and I had managed to accidentally mess up some of the logistics, but we managed finally to get into this club. The drinks were disgusting (but free), and the music was house/techno, but we had a blast. It was the kind of dancing you do when you don't want to think at all. Just dance. Color me female, but it was really great; I needed it. Our slightly big group circled up and danced with each other. And the guys DANCED! Which is my favorite part! They enjoyed themselves! It made me really happy to see that, that's for sure.
We did have some problems....us 3 girls (Liisa, Lorena, me) were being hit on and approached by some random men. We were making it quite clear we weren't interested, and we ocassionally would cry out "lesbian", but usually one of our guys had to step in, put their arms around us, and say "back off, buddy". Ah, yes, that's why I love hanging out with guys: the constant protection!
By 4-5am, this random group of drunk French guys started picking a violent fight with our two soldiers in the group. They definitely got in super-soldier-fighting mode, but somehow managed to stave off natural fighting needs and we walked out of the club exhausted and ready to hit the hay anyways.
We went for a walk to start dropping people off, and I finally ended up back on the métro with Lorena and the nice Bulgarian guy (who spoke English with us), got home, and slept. A lot.

Today is a lowkey day. It's raining and thundering, and I have no real need to do much but vegetate, again.

Humbug

I've been listening to music a lot lately.
I've been eating unknowingly.
Tout seul.
I think I've hit a bit of a low.
Actually, yes, I have.
Perhaps it was waking up to the sounds of a blood-curdling scream of a baby all morning.
Or the constant rumble of the sandblaster in the courtyard.
And now, I'm sitting alone on the grass at Sciences Po, thinking about how to make the last two months here the best I can make them, given circumstances.
Stiff upper lip, right?

What Do Vous Croyez?

Don't get too excited.
I may have just had a dream where I was thinking partially in French. Makes no sense, I know. I barely speak the damn langue, but I definitely know that part of my dream was in French.
On that note, I'm going to jog.
I've been feeling a bit bored lately...

FFWD Mode, Only Long

Alright! I should do this NOW so I don't forget to do it this week, and then I'll have more than a week to get back on track about:
Monday - My parents came in to visit me for the week! They were exhausted when I met up with them after my classes. We ended up catching a fast dinner at Léon's before my next class.
I then went to José-Louis' with Liisa for a dinner party. The rule was: in his place, we HAVE to only speak French (which wasn't hard for him and his 2 other friends, they ARE French...). It was one of the hardest rules to abide by all night. But I trucked along, kind of...
José made us this really great French dish for our main meal, and 3 other courses to boot! I supplemented the brownies for the dessert....His friend, Nicolas, is a winemaker, and brought us 3 bottles of wine for us to taste; one in every color! It wa splendid! Liisa and I were giggling the entire time about the sheer ridiculousness of our lives and the situations at hand.
And a note about José-Louis' place.....IT WAS MASSIVE!! He says that he's staying with a friend's family, which would make the children's toys everywhere, and the 2-story monstrosity of a flat that we were exposed. A billiard table in the main room, full kitchen, stereo system, and a huge outside patio with a view of the Eiffel Tower?! You've got to be kidding, Kim, right? Nay, my friends, no kidding here.
After we had a really nice (and late) dinner, José and Nicolas pulled out the dancing skills! Which was a shock! Those boy can dance! They were swing dancing with Liisa and I, and José even swung Liisa over his shoulder! José's female friend just watched, which was odd, but she seemed to be content regardless. But alas! A good night always has to end, so Liisa and I hailed a cab in the wee hours of the night/morning, and went to bed swiftly, after a night of perfection.

Tuesday - Class was a waste. Except that Eugene informed me about the VaTech news. All I'll say about it is that I luckily knew no one involved or affected, I have little (if any) respect for journalists and publicists, and that Bush's arms policies are worth shit.
Afterwards, I met up with parents to go out, but didn't make it very far; I crashed on their bed for a few hours. I finally woke up to eat some lunch with the parents, and then to go see my apartment. Lazy day, and ended it early.

Wednesday - The day started with Mom, Dad, and I meeting up at the Catacombs, which are these cave-tunnels underground all over Paris. You could probably get into any section of Paris through these caves! We were only let into a very small section of the catacombs, but it was simply amazing, nevertheless! Miles and miles of caves that we saw ALONE! And what's more, but there's roughly 6 million dead people buried down there, from the 1700s plague and the 1800s riots! They have organized the bones and skulls in a hasty decorative system, and they strategically embellished with somber French/Latin quotes all throughout the darkened caves. It was quite a site! And we saw the alter where All Saint's Day used to be performed, and everthing!
Afterwards, we ate at this place called Indiana Café; this sad French attempt at making American food. The quesadillas were made with mozzarella and crêpe-like layers, and the fries were pretty dinky. The food was good, but it wasn't American. Granted, I'm not complaining; it was just an interesting portrayal of American culture. The parents were nice and let me go for my normal jog afterwards before we head out for dinner at this nearby Lebanese resto. The food was really good (they even did the grape leaves correctly!). I went back to the hotel with them, where we had a debate about American values, education, and spirituality. Just another night with the family, right?

Mind you, the whole week I was very proud of myself because I was doing all of the talking and the ordering and explaining for the parents. I felt like my French was actually subpar!

Thursday - I grabbed lunch with them before they walked me to my classes. One of my classes was cancelled, so I ran into Rahul and I talked and walked with him for a while. I then went to Sciences Po to do homework. Joris, bless the child, walked me through my French homework, despite that he's French and has his own homework and club to run. I owe that kid my life.
Class trudged by. I then met up with Pierre for dinner with the parents at Café Lipp. The parents didn't inform me that we were to match (they were in black blazers over green shirts and black slacks), so I felt very awkward and clashing at first. But we had a very intriguing dinner. Dad really let his hair down for Pierre, and Mom and I did our girly gossip on the other side of the table. Pierre wow-ed them with his French knowledge, and we ate a long (and slightly pricey) dinner discussing cultures (but of course).
Pierre and I ended the night with a few videos about military training, so I could see just exactly what he'll be put through this summer. Yes, I admitt, it looks hard, but I'm still excited to see how he turns out after it, even if I am in the US (which is a sad thought).

Friday - My marketing professor is a tool. We had presentations about Benetton, and the first 4 groups took roughly 20 minutes a pop, leaving us last 2 groups 6 minutes to do a 12-minute presentation. Nice.
Paz and I grabbed a few sandwiches and chit chatted before I met up with the parents. We did some walking. Mom and I went to Galerie Lafayette and shopped for a few hours. I came out with a new purse and a shirt.
We had to RUN to my flat for a pizza dinner with the parents and my friends. Dad and I went out to get pizza, and my friends came over. We talked all night, joked, Dad said some not-so-appropriate-Kim things. It was great.

Saturday - I went for an extra long run, it was great.
Afterwards, I went on a wild goose hunt to find all of the materials needed to make the Indian dishes requested the night before.
Then I cooked for 6 hours. Alone.
I'm never cooking Indian food from scratch alone ever again. That is all.
The food was good, don't get me wrong, but it was far too much to do alone. And 10 kids?! What was I thinking?!
José-Louis joined us for dinner, which meant it was French for Kim. That was frustrating, alright. But we had a good night, and everything went well in the end.

Today - Bump on a log. I have gorged on left overs. Been reading a bit for my midterm on Tuesday. Met up with Paz for an hour to eat dinner. Walked for half an hour, then back here to do chores, procrastinate with my blog, and read some more. I'm a winner.

Deutschland (Oestrich-Winkel & Wiesbaden)

It was a relief to be greeted by a Felix on the other side of the airport at midnight.
He had sweettalked a friend into lending him their car to pick me up. I babbled the whole way home. Stuff about how the trees in Europe look surprised (they point directly up! they really do look surprised to me! like someone throwing their arms up!). Stuff about how Italian men are too racey for me. Stuff about how much I love German.
And an hour later, we were in his itty bitty vineyard town of Oestrich-Winkel.

We woke up late, and so did his roommates. After a lazy morning, Felix made all 4 of us a nice brunch of eggs, cheeses, salami, and breads. Ah, to be German...
Felix and I sally-forthed through the little center of his old town. I just love small German towns. They are so personal and....simply adorable. Even the architecture I enjoy!
He gave me the grand tour of his college, European Business School; population 800, which is ridiculously small but whatever. It's a nice (though tiny) campus, fake castel ruin included. He ran into a bunch of his classmates and talked to them, while I sat dumbly listening to German.
And then we meandered through the vineyards.
To quickly run back to his school and watch a play called "Top Dogs". Mind you: German school, German students....German play. I didn't understand a damn word of it. 2 hours of it. Felix tried to keep me abreast, but I had barely a clue as to what was happening. Another hour of sheer headache.
We then ate dinner outside at this really small and nice restaurant near his flat. Really tastey wine. And schnitzel.....which was I consider my German experience. It was alright. I don't think it was my favorite, though. And then Felix's British roommate, Chris, drove us to a bar in the next town over to meet up with their classmates for a few pints. I have found the best beer ever: Weissebier. Sooooo good! Oh man, tasted almost fruity. Delicious.
Felix and Chris brought a few people back to their place to have some more alcohol....but I don't speak German, so it was a quite few hours for me. One girl was Dutch, and came over to speak to me in English, thank God.

But don't get me wrong; I loved seeing Felix. He's one of those guys that, though we bicker and argue and annoy each other like a pack of siblings, he really is an amazing guy and I love him dearly. He's such a great friend. Especially considering he always drops everything whenever I come to visit him, and does his best to keep me entertained. We're like family or something.

Next day, I woke up and went for a jog in the vineyards. The first half was terrible; I was panting and heaving and barely moving. I didn't know what was WRONG! Was it my allergies flaring up? Was I already out of shape? Then I turned around to head back, and I started unexpectedly running downhill...
Chris made us a wonderfully homemade lunch, and we ate on their balcony.
And then Felix and I took a train to go into Wiesbaden, capital of the state. It is quite a nice city...kind of small. Reminded me a lot of a very small Boston, except the trees and cathedrals. We walked around the pedestrian areas for a few hours...we bought lots of candy from a not-Haribo-but-arguably-better shop called Bären-Treff. And sampled all of it, lovingly. And then we bought some gelato, and ate that. Such a glutonous day, really.
We got back a few hours afterwards, and I conked out dead cold for a few hours. Woke up to order pizza with Felix, and watch the German "American Idol", "Super Star". It's better than the French one, but still really bad.
And then I packed and slept.

The next day Felix and I ran to get on the train to Frankfurt for my train back to Paris. We ate Häagen-Dazs (which is, in fact, an American brand, FYI). And then I set sail to Paris.
And I read a LOT.
And I played with the most adorable baby ever. Huge eyes. Tongue out. Really priceless.

I got back to Paris to be greeted by Pierre who helped me back home with everything and cooked me a great (and tastey!) dinner. And I though to myself, this is bliss. I could keep doing this for a while. Travel for a while, meet up with old friends, and then come home to someone making homemade meals for me. The only problem I had was Pierre showing off his new diplomatic passport to me. Jerk.

Italia (Milano & Firenze)

Let's just get this straightened out first: I am never going to Italy alone EVER AGAIN. Now, let's hope I can stick to this promise... Why, you may ask? Well, for starters, I had no one to talk to all day, so I began talking to myself most of the day and babbling to kind anglophones the rest of the day. More noticeably, though, is because, as a female in Italy, I have never been so aggressively approached by men before in my life! More to come on that later.

So, I got into Milano Easter Sunday near midnight and realized that, my god, I no nothing about Italian. Sure, reading it is something like reading Frenchpagnol, but listening comprehension? I got nothing. So, I grudgingly shoved a piece of paper in front of a cab driver's face with the address to my hostel. That was an interesting carride conversation. I find myself going up 2 flights of not-so-familiar staircases to find a hostel located on a single floor of an apartment complex. Luckily, the guys running the hostel were very nice to me, and spoke simple english while placing me in a bedroom shared with 2 sleeping guys. I didn't want to wake up the sleepers, so I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed in complete darkness. One of the sleepers woke up around a few hours later at 5am, though, and decided to un-and-repack his entire bag before noisily leaving.
I woke up to find out that our bathroom was a handicap bathroom. This would be fine, only it meant that the shower floor was also the bathroom floor. And the showerhead was located as low as my chest. That was an acrobatic shower, my friends. I've never had to sit on my knees to clean myself before.
I got out of the hostel early to realize that, because Italy is a very Christian country, most everything in the city NOT in the tourist trap areas would be completely closed. Dead city, really. Nevertheless, I took a half-hour stroll from the hostel to the center of town.
The best sight in the entire city handsdown was the Duomo. Simply breathtaking! The Duomo is this massive cathedral in the middle of Milan that is built with golden-rose stones and intricately frosted/decorated with lavish spears. I was in awe. To my surprise, I found out that I could actually climb all the way up to the top of the Duomo onto the roof and walk around to see the skyline. And I did just that. Just.....beautiful. Milan really is a pretty city, and walking around the roof of the cathedral, around the spears...I must have been up there an hour. The inside of the cathedral wasn't nearly as impressive (rather simple, really, but all for the best I guess...), but I went underneath the cathedral to some of the ancient city ruins. THAT was intriguing, but too bad I can't understand Italian...or Latin, for that matter.
I then walked around Milan aimlessly, seeing as I had no agenda. I saw a bunch of nice buildings. I walked around the old castle, Castello Sforzesco. Kind of a not-so-pretty buiding, but then again how can one compare to that of the Duomo? There was a lovely grassy knoll/garden behind the castle, and I felt like I had been transported back into the early 19th century.
Otherwise, I walked around a lot. The perogative: to not stop walking. Just keep walking. Need to just see everything. And I think I did. I made a decision to not see the Last Supper, but I'm not upset about it. The Royal Palace cost money to go in and see the art exhibits, so I just enjoyed the outside view. Oh yeah, I also made it a choice to spend as little cash as I could, to no avail (the food costs were hefty).
For dinner, I noticed that I possess buyers anxiety even more when I don't know the language at all. I sat down at this nice OPEN restauarant and started (or, attempted) ordering. He responded in Italian, and I got nervous. He asked me what to drink, and I tried saying water, bu then he asked "and?", and I buckled. Oh god, what do I say now? What would he understand? Uh...uh....capuccino? That seemed to please him, and he left, though I DO NOT drink capuccino. I ate a Milanese pizza with that capuccino, and finished off the meal with a very nice tiramisu.
Having conquered Milan in less than a day, I strolled back to the hostel early and made friends with the men running the hostel. We watched "King Arthur" dubbed in italian. Well, I looked, they watched. I made friends with a few Swiss/US girls, and we all bonded over hot chocolate.

The next day I ran to catch my train to Florence.
I get out of the station and hailed a cab to my hostel. BIG mistake. My hostel, that is. It was literally BARELY in Florence!!! It was a villa on a camping ground on one of the hills north of Florence. The cabfare was dismally expensive. Couldn't have been more inconveniently placed. It took 20 minutes to get INTO the city. AND it had a curfew. The hostel itself was meh; I was reminded of my many mission trip living shacks.
After fuming about this for about an hour, I rushed into the city. Only a day to do it all, must do it all ASAP! Florence, as opposed to Milan, is extremely busy and full of sights to see. I was frantically racing up and down streets trying to see it all.
I managed to find the Duomo Firenze first, go figure. It is huge, and beautiful (but not at all like that in Milan). The inside is simple, though, which has me think that that is the way the Italians do their cathedrals. I appreciated that. But, no time to think! I walked so quickly I got lost immediately. Luckily, I found my way around after some time, and continued my rampage of tourism. This church, that square. This historical landmark. The museums, I concluded, were going to be seen early the next morning before my train back. That bought me some time.
I met up with Tigist for a late lunch. We sat over some pizza and insalate caprese and talked about our studies abroad. She is such a lovely person, and I really enjoyed talking with her. A lot, actually. We had so many good stories to tell, so many tips for travelling, and future concerns about returning to Stern after such an amazing semester. Afterwards, she showed me around some of the areas that I had yet to see, and showed me a little gelato shop that had the most delectable gelato known to man. It was so good, I actually found myself speechless for a few minutes, mouth gaping open (after swallowing, of course). And beautiful Tigist paid for it, which was too kind.
Busy with a presentation, though, we parted ways at the Bridge Vecchio, a very old bridge riddled with houses and buildings on it. From there, I walked to the southern side of Florence and hauled myself up many-a-flights of steps to the Piazza Michelangelo. At this place, you can see all of Florence; completely surrounded by the Tuscan hills. I am so glad I went up there. Peaceful, beautiful, and the sun was setting so my view was painted with a purple sky.
This is when, after being approached by a man on the street ("Oh no, sir, I can't get coffee. I'm meeting up with some friends..." LIES!), I ambled my way back to the middle of nowhere to read before sleeping.

The next morning I was at the Galleria Dell'Academia before opening. With my 10 kilo bag on my back. The line was already wrapped around the building. It took me about 1.5 hours to get in. But the David was very much worth it. He is immaculate (the sculpture, that is). You can even see his VEINS! ON THE ARMS! I loved it. And the Rape of...Sabine? The other paintings were merely icing that I was alright with, but not in love with.
Feeling proud, I decided to wait another 2 hours (yes, standing in a line in the morning, with a 10 kilo bag) to get into the Ufizzi. I'm so glad I did. I love Boticelli, and the Birth of Venus was a treat to see. And there were so many pictures that I relished. All 3 floors were full of surprises. I was like a little kid during Christmas. Afterwards, the lunch I had was great. Salade and DELICIOUS fruit!
The rest of the day was lazy. I read in a park, ate some gelato, and then went to the train station for my train back. Where I met a very nice Italian guy who teaches graphic design in Milan. He gave me his ever-so-chic biz card and proposes we get a drink in Paris sometime. Sure. Networking at its finest.

Milan was Milan. The hostel was the same. I got back in for the working men to greet me excitedly (surprisingly...). Not understanding just what I had gotten myself into (apparently being nice = flirting in Italy...), one of the working guys starting coming on to me. Thinking it was just in my imagination, I agreed when he offered to change my room to a less inhabited room full of vacant beds. I finished getting ready in the bathroom and got out to find my designated bed having been pushed up with a nearby bed. Natural skeptic, I concluded to sleep in another vacant bed on the other side of the room. This guy (whose name is Mario, go figure) comes in and says "What are you doing? I wanted to sleep with you!"
Kim: Oh no, I sleep alone.
Mario: But we are supposed to sleep together!
Kim: Ummm....I don't think my boyfriend would be alright with that....
Mario: You have a boyfriend?!?!?!
Kim: Yes...
(insert boyfriend interrogation here)
Mario: But we can still sleep together. I just want to talk to you.
Kim: I don't talk when I'm asleep. I sleep.
Mario: Kimberly.....please.....
After moving the beds apart, I agreed to sleep in the first bed. He got upset because I didn't face him while I lay in bed. I said that it was good for digestion. I turned off the lights. He whined he couldn't see me. I said it didn't matter when the lights are out. He started petting my hair, and I had to conclude the night with a stern "Goodnight NOW, Mario."

Nightmare.
I woke up, went for a jog (where I got lost), left the hostel, and chilled out in the park (with my 10 kilo bag) to read for a few hours.
I walked over to the train station to get the bus to the airport, when another strange male approached me. After trying to coax me to talk and say my name (Teresa, right?), he tried to convince me to stay with him and "get to know him", where I simply replied that I had a flight to catch soon and though nice meeting him, no.
I got the airport far too early because of that. At least I had a book to read. For hours. And hours. Just to get on a flight to Frankfurt Hahn.

Back in Paris

Ok, I am too busy trying to get ready for the parents' arrival and getting caught up on work, so I will talk about my crazy week in Italy/Germany later....
Just letting those of you know...

Quicky

Aimee's trip here was all over the place. I was either in class, or we were with my friends romping around the city.
Wednesday, after Aimee and I went for a light jog, I stayed inside all day. All. Day. Working on my opera project. Lots of research happened. It was rough.
Now, the problem on Wednesday was Brandon's comings and goings. He can't move into his apartment until 2 weeks from now, so I agreed that he could crash at my place. By 2am I said to myself, "Ok, he's not going to come home tonight. I'm going to bed." How wrong was I. 5:30am rolls by and I hear my doorbell being rung, but a drunk Brandon. Oh, the rage...

Thursday was when I had my opera exposé (in english). So, I finished it late during the day, and went off to class. Nobody told me, however, that there was a big election presentation going on at school for the day. The street was barracaded, cops everywhere, checking student IDs (thankfully I had mine on me)...
And there were only 5 kids that made it to my opera class. Which made it easier to present and keep the oral exposé a lot less stressful. The only problem we had was that the presidential candidates were leaving the school during our class, for the whole 2 hours, and so there was this mass of angry students half-rioting-half-shouting outside of our window. We could barely hear the professors. It was pretty amusing, and they had some pretty good chants going on. I tried to be loud for my presentation. I think it went alright?
After my French class, I went back home to hang out with Aimee. We both felt a little low, so we stayed in for the night, and I made dinner. Then Pierre came over with Inès (his sister, who's delightful, by the way) later on in the night, and we enjoyed some conversation, joking, and made fun of the terrible version of American Idol here, Nouvelle Star. Simply sad. Aimee relished in the show, while the rest of us were just groaning in pain.

Friday, after a slightly lowkey marketing class, Paz and I brought our visitors to a café for lunch, at Café Jade. We waited nearly 45 minutes for Lorena, Alex, and Liisa to come by and join us for lunch. Starving. Pretty good food, but French service. Then Brandon and Peter+1 joined us and we got amazing gelato at this little place nearby that lets you choose however many flavors you want and then shapes the gelati into the shape of a tulip on a cone. And it was good.
After overeating, we crashed on the grass in the Jardin du Luxembourg with the rest of Paris, and planned our night out. And after much arguing and spite, I left early for a run. A run that dehydrated me and kind of put me in this funky state for the rest of the evening.
We got reservations at Refuge des Fondue in Montmartre. Wine in baby bottles. Fondue with unlimited bread. And cheap. It was a fun night. Peter and I ended up being the only completely sober kids at the table in this tiny restaurant and watched everyone else giggle and say ridiculously hilarious things.
Afterwards we climbed the 10 million flights of stairs to the Sacre Coeur and watched the Eiffel sparkle. And then we climbed back down. And walked to Pigalle....now, for those of you that don't know this area of Paris, let me explain to you why: it's one giant orgy. Seriously. There's this massive store called Sexodrome; the moulin rouge is there; there are strip shows every block. The Museum of Eroticism (because there is one) is there, too. As Pierre would say, quite an ethnographic experience. I can't believe we agreed to go there.

Yesterday Aimee and I went to the Palais de Tokyo and ate lunch there at the café (excellent, by the way). Then we came back because I had to start cooking for dinner. Dinner parties, every Saturday, chez Kim. And I messed it up LIKE IT WAS MY JOB yesterday. Undercooked chicken, overcooked brownies. I am mortified.

Now, I just came back from a jog, and need to pack for Italy, so please excuse me while I stop rambling.

Pirating

I had the weirdest dream last night…
I was a pirate.
And my pirate squad and I had to rent a 15-passenger because were going on a camping trip in Canada...
The pirate king threatened all of our lives that he would slaughter us if we didn’t have fun. I was afraid for my life a bit, but at the same time I didn’t really care because I felt like the pirate king had a soft spot for me.
Taylor S. from home was the skipper of the van and was telling us our game plan of the trip.
We were all trying to steal each other’s money (coins, of course) while in the van, and we stopped off at a 711 to buy some Cokes.
Most of the dream we just kept on driving. There were many attractive pirates, male and female alike, but I didn’t really mind nor care.
I think we were trekking from Vancouver and weaving all throughout Canada until we met up with Niagara Falls...or was it Saskatchewan?
The pirate king kind of looked like a scraggling Santa Claus.

And Now For Something Completely Different

James K:
I thought to myself... I jumped around my test like a coked up frog with a strong desire to live on a hotplate...
but then I realized that if the frog was coked he wouldn't feel as much pain, so I thought that I just jumped around like a frog with a strong desire to live on a hotplate.

And that is why we love James so much.
He has such an innate ability for analogies.

Aimee, Soup, and Reflection

So, I have missed 2 classes now because of my sicknesses this week. Let's hope this doesn't continue.

Aimee's here! Which means that she's jetlagged and dead on the couch now. But beforehand, we had some good times being sisterly and babbling and goofing off and whatnot.

The Sciences Po Choeur had a concert tonight. It was....less than impressive. That is all I have to say about that.

Pierre met up with Aimee and I for a very late dinner (which I was able to stomach! yay soup!), and we just chit chatted for an hour or two.

Now, here is when I realize I have a beef with myself right now. I have noticed that within the last week I have completely flaked out. I don't mean that in the "taking life too loosely" manner. No no, my dear friends... I mean I have been taking everything FAR too seriously. I have found myself sappy, emotional, SUPER UBER FEMALE. I have become a lot more concerned about my relationships with people. I have been trying to express myself more clearly (case and point, I'm writing a bloody BLOG about how I am FEELING!). I have been worried for the past week about how people think of me and where I am with who and all of that super complicated and unnecessary jargon.
Granted, there have been several things this week that have made my emotional homeostasis completely out-of-whack (ahem, flu? yeah, no fun)...BUT THIS IS THE FEMALE IN ME TALKING and making excuses.
Normal Kim is on the sideline with her head in her hand, saying, "She is competely ruining everything. What's wrong with her?! Why can't she just calm down? Agh..."
And with that groan, and exasperated throwing of arms (throwing in towel here), I have made an agreement with myself to try to get Kim's emotions back in check. Bring things down a bit. Become easy-going, again. Feel a little more center field. NOT freaking out people around me would be neat, too. Let's not push any more people away, shall we, dear Kim? Yes, let's.
So, for any of you who may have been in contact with me for the past week and wondering what I've been smoking/drinking/digesting, please be assured that you are not alone in your disenchantment with me, and that I am working on this current issue as we speak. Just let me know if I gotta work a little harder.

La Grippe

After 2 days straight being bed ridden because of the influenza (because, despite its perfections, Paris does spread the flu), I feel like quickly telling of my Friday night.
Liisa and I met up with one of her Finnish friends from home (redundant?). She asked me to come along because she said she doesn't enjoy his company very much, seeing as he was a real
"snob" of a guy. I, being the supportive friend, obliged to play buffer.
He was a rather pretentious guy from some ENS or some other big school. Went to SciPo for his u-grad. And he was just brimming with self-appreciation and critique. I know many people like him. I could tell he was sizing me up the whole time. I decided to play at his own game.
We went to this place near the Sorbonne for dinner, called Le Petit Prince (oh so appropriately fitting his demeanor). Though the thought of food is slightly revolting to me right now, I can objectively say that the meal was excellent. A little pricey, but well worth it.
The table talk was amusing; he grilled me for about 2 hours. And about newspapers, too! What do I think about the Herald? The WSJ? The NYT? The BBC news? The Financial Times? Le Monde? Well, apparently I passed with flying colors and impressed him. I didn't stumble with any of the newspapers, and I (putting on my pretentious facade for him) was adding some good old BS intellectual jargonated opinions. He loved me. It was great. And you could tell that, as soon as he called me a "liberal", he lightened up tremendously and chilled out! He started goofing off a bit (thinking he was with someone of intellectual equal, I presume), and even agreed to go out to get a drink after dinner. He actually wasn't that bad of a guy, once he took off the holier-than-thou impression.
We went to this bar in Mouffetarde that I strongly recommend not going to: Student's Bar. They pushed us in and out all too hastily. Terrible service, even for France's standards.

Liisa's Italian friends called up and asked us to go to this posh club with them, Showcase. So we met up with them and sally-forthed to the club. Liisa and I, unfortunately, were the only sober kids in the group, making it a little confusing to get to this said club.
Now, mind you, I'm not much of a club-goer. So I was just hoping it'd be some nice little place I could cool the jets off in some corner. Ohhhhh, noo......
This place freaked me out the moment we realized we had to go UNDERNEATH a bridge by the Seine. The bridge over by Esplanades des Invalides. I always think that there are ogres under bridges. And now I know the truth; I'm right.
We get into this bar/club/disco place, and there's this sad excuse for a band playing. Liisa and I, knowing quite a bit about music, were rather offended by their music. And one of the guys was wearing this frilly girl's shirt, which was not pleasant to watch. And the drinks were expensive, so we bought one and called it quits. After a while, I started to realize that everyone at the club were probably on something....
And the Italians were wasted within the first 30 minutes.
We tried dancing for a while, but after about an hour I finally asked Liisa if we could just go. I wasn't having enough fun to stay (or want to come back, for that matter). We had a lovely walk back to school and after I dropped her off at her flat, I hailed a cab.
The next day I woke up completely and utterly sick, called an emergency doctor, and stayed in bed... And though I asked for an English-speaking doctor, I got a French-speaking one. Oh well, it took a bit, longer, but we did the job. And she put me on the WEIRDEST diet ever!!!! Cheeses, meats, yogurt......everything I normally don't eat! And I've been too sick to even stomach the idea of cereal, so it's been a quiet digestive few days...