A Much-Belated (and LONG) Paris Post

So, five months after our romantic getaway to Paris, France for our 1-year anniversary, I have finally come to terms that I need to fulfill my promise and write.  Better late than never.
Fortunately, Jerry and I wrote notes while we were there, just in case we didn't get to writing about our vacation right away.  Oh, how well we know each other...

Friday
We arrived in Paris around 10am and, as standard Charles de Gaulle airport experiences go, we got held up by a mod of flight passengers.  I swear everyone all over the world (quite literally) had decided that this was the day to visit Paris.  There was a massive bottleneck in the teeny tiny luggage trolley area, and we both got very aggravated.  We decided to divide and conquer for our luggage; we took separate areas of the WALL of people and picked our way through the masses.
I had forgotten that it is also standard custom at European airports to be introduced to the bouquet of European body odors.
By the time we eked out of the airport mob, Jerry and I were very tired and quite a bit grumpy.  And I was trying to navigate the french language for two in my befuddled state of mind.  Things only got more frustrating with the RER Station in the airport. The SNCF kiosk stations were not accepting VISAs or bills, so we ended up in a massively long line to talk to someone one-on-one; the line comprised of all tourists, most of whom were not familiar (enough) with the french language.  Of course this takes more time, because they have to struggle with hand gestures and pointing at papers frantically to get what they want. 
I remember those days. I don't miss them.
When we got to the lady at the front of the line, I prattled off what we wanted in French to the lady, who was happy to refill my Navigo card from 2007, and prize Jerry with a similar card. We were done with her in about 5 minutes, and within another 2 minutes we were on the train to Paris metro.  The train ride was peaceful; the car was full of bleary-eyed travelers, just like us.  We were entertained by an accordion player, and watched the banlieue pass us by. When we saw the Sacre Coeur hover over our train, I knew we were there.

Getting to the apartment we rented took some time. We had a few transfers to make here and there to get to the right metro stop.  So we meandered in the endless hallways underground, which Jerry referenced to be like a French moria (the what?).  Jerry's crash course in the Paris Metro was fun; he seemed amused when I showed him that the train doors open only if you lift a little release hook.

Emerging from the Metro station on the streets where I spent 2007, in my state of enraptured studious bliss, made me overcome with emotions.  I had felt like I had returned to a home I hadn't been in a long while.  Or like I was visiting an old friend I hadn't seen in forever. Ever since I got on my last plane out of Paris, I missed it terribly.  There were days where I'd make the Brooklyn streets resemble Paris in my mind.  And here I was, again, finally.  Back in a romantic city with so many fond memories and nostalgia.  And with my lover. I got verclempt.

Of course we got a bit lost trying to find the apartment, but after a little bit, we finally reached Rue de Canettes.  The apartment was up a few narrow, twisting staircase in what seemed like (and probably was) a medieval building with rustic Germanic architecture.  The studio itself was very small, and clearly very, very old.  It was a true pied a terre, with one small room that functioned as living room/bedroom/kitchenette, and a bathroom.  The window overlooked the small inlet street that brims with bars (like good old Cafe George) and a few restaurants.  We were spitting distance from St. Sulpice.

Jerry and I took a much-needed nap for about 3 hours when we got in.  We woke up to start exploring outside, and got immediately caught in rain.  Bienvenue a Paris.
We ran into a petit bistro called Le Pre' for a late lunch.  And we ate croque monsieur and croque madames with a little cheese plate on the side. Jerry said, "This cheese would be on some of the best plates I would have in NYC...wow!" I explained to him that the restaurant we stopped in it was just a regular, run of the mill place with very ordinary french cheese.
The waiter we had lacked a behind, and I remembered, ah yes...this is how French men are often.

After being full of a good meal, and after the rain let up, I made the executive decision to bring Jerry for a walk around my old haunts.  We saw good old Sciences Po, St. Germain des Pres, and walked around to see some of the places I fondly remember stuffing myself with a baguette from time to time.  We walked to Laduree, of course (being one of my favorites), and I introduced Jerry to the world of macarons.  We got 8 little ones, and ate them instantly.  Jerry mentioned that he never understood what the big deal was about macarons, until when I put a fresh Laduree macaron in his mouth.

We walked up to the Seine, and crossed the bridge Pont des Arts - we admired the "padlocks of love" lovers had put on the bridge fences. We enjoyed the sounds of French tourism in front of Notre Dame cathedral, and we walked towards the back and took pictures of the flowers in the garden, and the Memorial de la Deportation.

By now it was getting a bit dark, so we started walking towards St. Michel, where we stopped by to get gelato and Amorino.  Jerry almost swooned at its deliciousness.  We walked through the bustling Latin Quarter and I explained how this is where a lot of tourists get jipped on semi-decent food.  So we kept walking - through the arcade by Odeon - and made our way back to Monoprix.  We bought a lot of food so we would be able to cook and eat in on some of the days of our vacation.
That night we went out for pizza.

Saturday
Jerry woke up around 11am, while I struggled to get up.  I was feeling less than stellar and pretty grumpy (mostly because of the loud bars in the middle of the night).  So I started the day with some yoga while Jerry delved into the world of Lovecraft.
Most of our trip revolved around long, meandering walks around the city.  We both feel that it is a great way to truly know a city.  So, we walked around St.Sulpice, before stopping by at les Editeurs for another cheese plate.

We took our time and walked to the Jardin de Luxembourg, admiring the beautiful statues and peaceful flora.  But not for long. We got very distracted by a pounding music we heard ricochet off of the nearby buildings.  So we walked towards the Pantheon and found out there was a Techno Parade going throughout the city.  We followed the parade for a few miles, listening to the different vans' electronic taste (some were more industrial/gothic, some were more pop/rock).  We stopped by a local fromagerie and got lots of stinky cheese to feast on later, and continued following the Techno Parade, past Sorbonne, CLUNY, and over Ile St Louis. There was a crowd on the bridge, and I asked Jerry if we could step out of the parade for a while.  Meanwhile cops started to come over and prepare for what seemed like an ever-growing chaotic crowd.  I'm glad we got out early.

We walked along the Rive Droit a bit and talked to some street vendors about comic books. We then walked through Le Marais and got a baguette and croissants.  Jerry bought more cheese and ate on the steps of a busy photography exposition.  Of course we got more sweets while we walked, and Jerry tried some Berthillon sorbet on St Louis, while I found a place to buy some beloved Muscadet Corse.

Somehow Jerry finds comic book shops wherever he ends up traveling.  He's done it easily every time I'm with him somewhere.  So, of course, while we walked along the back streets of Paris, we kept finding comic shops.
We stopped for a bathroom emergency at a brasserie in front of CLUNY, and a bitchy old lady served us crappy food and tried to scam us out of our change.  This all started because I ran to the bathroom and she went up to Jerry to take his order.  He asked if she spoke English, and we were done for.  She was one of those crabby elders who strongly disliked Americans, even if for no reason.  I talked to her in french, and came to her asking for our change.  She looked at me and said, "What change?"  I looked at her very disapprovingly, and did the math for her, explaining she owed us 2 euros.  She finally cowered at my growing voice, and gave us the change.
We went back to the apartment and ate a plate of our treasures before sleeping.

Sunday
We took this vacation as we should have: as a vacation.  We didn't insist on waking up early.  We didn't push ourselves to do everything we could possibly think of.  We slept in.  We slept early. We took our time.  We ate good food.  I was so happy to not have to feel like we had to run around non-stop.
It didn't help our motivation to see things, though, that it rained most of our trip. 

We went to St. Michel for a crepe & jambon tartine (and caffe espresso americain for Jerry).  We walked past Odeon Theatre and scaled all of Rue Vaugirard (the longest street in Paris).  I brought h Jerry to my old neighborhood in the 15th arrindosement, after a long and arduous walk.  Much to my dismay, my beloved Shopi mart had been turned into a Carrefour City. Carrefour?! Pfft.
Nevertheless, we persevered and got bread and a meringe at the boulanger next to my old place, as well as a crepe on the corner.  Like old times, the old boulangiere corrected my poor french grammar.

I guided Jerry through my old running route and, SURPRISE!, ended up at the Eiffel Tower!  It was so much fun to see Jerry look up at the monstrous building on the esplanade.  We took our touristy picture (including Jerry pinching the top of the tower in a picture or two).
There was a family event going on at the esplanade, so we grabbed a few free things, and I walked off with 6 packaged bottles of water.  Was that legal?  I don't know. I'm American!
We stopped at Cafe les Copiers, which was clearly a tourist trap.  The foie gras I had was more like Spam. Jerry had an expensive glass of Bourgogne.
We walked past Hotels des Invalides, and back towards apartment to drop off our booty.
We ate Italian food across the street late at night. Jerry had great a Bolognese, while I enjoyed the Antipasti. We feasted on fantastic Tiramusi.
After filling ourselves, we came back to apartment to relax and reminisce on the days we've enjoyed so far.

Monday
I decided to take a much-needed jog, across the river in the Tuileries.  I had an emergency run to the bathroom, where I had to wait in line 10 minutes to go to bathroom at Concord. The door didn't lock, and people kept opening the door while I was in the bathroom. I finally screamed, "Frappez la porte!" (Knock on the door!)

We got lunch at one of my favorite little places to eat in the area, La Pre des Clercs. I insisted that Jerry get with me my favorite salad called La Viscounti. It was absolutely delicious, as I had remembered.  Chicken and pesto with cucumber keeping everything together in a neat little pile.  We had some white wine to go with the salad, and I got tipsy one glass later. We came back and took a nap.

After resting a bit, we went to l'Arc de Triomphe on the subway, and enjoyed more touristy pictures of us trying to take down and scale the arche.  We took our time and relaxed, watching the guards change at the arch.  We then walked through L'Etoile and down Champs Elysee and watched all of the tourists admire the concept cars in the boutique shops. We ended up at Angelinas and got hot chocolate, a l'ancienne. With the thick, creamy, incredibly chocolate experience, we were both lulled into silence.

After our lovely chocolate high, we walked past the Louvre and through the Tuileries. To have an omelette at Cafe des Beaux Arts.  We walked home very slowly.

Tuesday
We didn't leave the apartment that day until after three.  The jetlag was taking a toll on me, and I could feel an intense sinus infection taking over my head and chest. I stocked up at a local pharmacy on some homeopathic drugs that would drain me of the grossness.
We got sandwiches at Paul, over by the arcade, and ate on Ponte des Arts. Jerry enjoyed a prosciutto, tomato and cheese sandwich and a quiche lorraine. I pilferred his quiche.

The Musee de Pompidou was closed on Tuesday, so we decided to keep walking around to find another museum to walk through. We received useless directions from a security guard who had no clue where the Picasso museum was located. As Jerry said, "Given the use of both hands and a map he probably could not have located the museum if it were housed in a boil on his ass."

We wandered the Rive Droit for a treacherously long time trying to find the Musee Picasso, only to discover that the museum was closed for renovation until....2012?!  No rush, guys...

Jerry was fully prepared then to describe the intricacies of how much the French suck at restoration and take-out food, but looked at me and realized that I was on the verge of death. So we walked back to our apartment, ever so slowly.  When I don't feel well, my leg speed is the telltale sign.

I slept in the apartment in a drowsy trip while Jerry enjoyed reading and wine at a nearby cafe.  He went out valiantly to get me some take-out food, but that found, much to his dismay, most french restaurants don't actually DO take-out. I tried to warn him, but he told me he wanted to find something for me to eat.  He also found out, tragically, that despite the french boasting their skills at language and being relevant in modern society, most of them don't know a drop of english.  He struggled to find food, and finally found Japanese and Greek restaurants that, of course, took out.

Wednesday
I was feeling much better after a day of rest.  So we decided that Wednesday would be the Louvre day. We happily walked and stood in the long line to get into the opening museum.  The line outside the glass pyramind grew steadily as we stood there.  Clearly we were in the right place to be.

This was also the first day that the sun shone on us in Paris, and we were happy that it was finally warm, instead of cold and rainy.
We got our tickets for the Louvre, and headed to the Sully annex where we walked through the history of the Louvre section.  Jerry and I marveled at the immense castle walls and moat we scuttled through.  We joked around a lot while walking through the museum, and Jerry sang about being a little tea pot while swimming as a peasant under the moat.

(This is when you can tell Jerry wrote some of our travel notes)

Jerry noticed that, instead of having bilingual signs, or including transcriptions for each picture in widely known languages at the Louvre, they posted all of their signs in French. I tried to save the day by providing instantaneous line by line translations on the fly, in hopes that they would be understandable and Jerry would be able to get a better artistic experience.

We gawked at the Egyptian status, Greek statues and Renaissance paintings.

The Medieval paintings, we found, had three basic themes:
1. Virgin Mary with child.
2. Jesus crucified.
3. Saints of one sort or another, usually dying horribly.

We also saw David and Goliath, Christ's ascension, the Annunciation and the final judgment.  We both decided that the paintings were quite dull and unimaginative.

Other art pieces we saw include: Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, Psyche and Cupid, Hermes, and "that French Revolution painting". We finished what we wanted to see in a record of five hours, and after seeing a bunch of Japanese tour groups crowding the hallways, we decided to leave.

We went into the Tuileries and I slept on the grass while Jerry read some more. We snacked on treats from the nearby Paul stand.

We walked to Angelina for another day of decadent hot chocolate.

From there, we walked to Palais Royale where we got the metro to Montmartre. We first stopped to eat some fondue at Le Refuges des Fondues. We had a hearty cheese fondue, and sucked wine from baby bottles. We continued up the hill via tram.  It was just newly nighttime, and we had a beautiful look of all of Paris below us.  It was incredibly romantic, and we watched in silence for a while.

We went to the Sacre Coeur, and decided to attend their candlelit service. We listened to French liturgy by nuns. It was beautiful, emotional and melodious.  We sat in somber silence and relished in the sacredness of some places.  I have always loved the Sacre Couer, atop its hill overlooking Paris.

After a romantic night of city-gazing, we went back to rest. And listen to elephants above our room.

~~~
Unfortunately, we didn't write any notes for our last two days in Paris.

But I do know that we took a day to go to the Catacombes in Paris.  It is always fascinating for me to go underground and see the world that some people knew.  It was dark and dank, as usual, and Jerry and I enjoyed a few hours of looking at crossbones and skulls lined up ever so neatly all around us.
We stopped by a Starbucks for an easy sip of tea before heading off on our way.
That night we saw Pierre, Nicholas and Pierre's wife for dinner at their place one night.  We at first thought we had been stood up, since no one was at Pierre's home at the time when the invitation I received online said.  So we wondered through the 14th arr. to find a cyber cafe, and, after much frustration, finally found a little cafe where I found an email of a frantic Pierre having just realized his blunder.
We got back to his apartment, and were greeted by hugs and wine, and wonderful smells.  His apartment is in a military apartment unit, since his wife and him are both part of the Ministry of Defense.  A charming apartment, with a view of the Eiffel Tower?  Not bad!  Luckily, Jerry got to see the tower sparkle before our trip was over.  We relaxed and chatted on old times and current events, while Pierre and his wife made dinner for us all.
It was nice to see my old friends again.  Now we are older, and maybe a bit wiser, and more able to appreciate each other's company.  I had missed those guys, and their heavy banter was so enjoyable to listen to.  Pierre and Jerry shared stories of Seattle and Portland, and I admired his wife's pictures of their travels around the world.
The dinner was absolutely amazing.  Real home-cooked French dinners are always my panultimum favorite.  And they delivered a glorious stew and salad.  The cheese plate at the end was so good I could have cried, and the dessert was a strawberry creme dish that was amazing.  I remember feeling so stuffed to the brim that I could have cried, but the conversation was too good for me to actually cry.  I was just immensely full of food and good company.  It was a wonderful night.

On one of the last nights we were there, we met up with Marion and Thomas, my dear dear friends.  I loved seeing them, Marion coming in from her semester at military school, and Thomas taking a break from his civil servant exams.  We walked around and found a little wine bar where we had some wine (and Orangina) and chatted about what had been going on in our lives.  Jerry was excited to talk with Marion about her military experiences, and I was just happy to be among old friends.
We ended that night by finding a little creperie by Odeon and eating crepes in the rain before we all parted ways.




One the last day we were there, it was raining.  Jerry and I felt satisfied enough, and took the day to relax, eat whatever food we felt we wanted to leave remembering the most, and reading.  We sat in cafes with tea/coffee, and pastries until the day was done.  We finished the outrageously smelly cheeses we had stored in our little fridge, and cleaned up after ourselves in the apartment.

The day we left Paris, of course the RER trains were not working properly.  Luckily we had left super early to get to the airport.  We were rerouted twice, and ended up having to take a 30-minute busride standing to the airport.  We dropped off our luggage and checked in, and sat in the waiting area happy, rested yet tired, and sad to have to leave our wonderful trip behind.

The next time we're in Paris, we'll get to see more.
This time, leaving Paris wasn't so tragic.  I felt better, like I had more closure and a sense that I was going away from Paris again, but it wasn't going to be such a painful goodbye.  Next time I won't be aching as much for Paris.  But I do still love that city, dearly.

Griping About Paris Before Gushing...

The boyfriend and I have been together for over a year now.  We celebrated by going to Paris for a week-long vacation.

Paris, to me, is an old friend.  I got there and welled up with tears, feeling my love for the area well up inside of me and spill over all around me.  I was so, so happy to be back in a city that I love equally to NYC.

Now, if only it hadn't been so cold and rainy the entire time.

And if only the French transportation unions hadn't striked the day before we left, so that it was chaotic while trying to get our luggage off of a conveyor belt.

And if only there wasn't a terrorist threat in Paris the day we left, making our plane the go-to for many foreign travelers.

And if only a handful of bitchy older Frenchies didn't try to rip us off or insult us while we were there.

And if only I didn't get very, very sick for the better half of the trip.

.....Other than that, the trip was pretty good.  But I have to release that all before I get into the details of our trip.  And I have to wait to get the details we typed up from the boyfriend...

WORST DAY OF MY LIFE

The trip from Paris to Boston should have only taken 8 hours. It ended up taking 25 hours.
My luggage weighed a total of about 75 kilos....170 pounds-ish.
I cried a lot.
I will try to make this as brief as possible...
7h - My luggage gets stuck in the elevator at my apartment. I somehow managed to forget that the inside doors don't close when it's obstructed a certain amount, yet the outside doors lock. I had to call my landlady to wake up the guardian to open up the elevator.
7h15 - My taxicab service has forgotten me for my 10h15 flight. I lived at least an hour away from the airpot. Call the service and they apologize to me, but tell me that they can't help me. The street cabs won't take me, and the numbers I call don't want to help me either.
7h45 - I am running with my luggage from the 88 bus I took to and through the RER station to get the train that goes to CDG. The RER stations are essentially riddled with staircases. I have about 4 flights to go down, and about 5 to go up. After my luggage falls down the stairs a few times, a bunch of guys helped me out by hauling them up the stairs with me to catch the next train. I'm dripping with sweat.
8h17 - I get on the RER train. I am calling the parents in the US to see if they can help me locate exactly where my flight is.
9h05 - I get off the RER train and start RUNNING through to my terminal. I am thinking I won't make it because my arms are about to fall off.
9h20 - I BARELY missed the cutoff for check-in by a few minutes, mostly because my flight was slightly delayed. I run to the passport check and am finally put in the front of the line to make my flight.
10h35 - I am put on my airplane and fall asleep. I end up talking and joking with the guy next to me on the flight for a few hours, watch "Michou d'Auber" and "Je Crois que Je L'aime".
**7 hours and 6 time zones later...**
12h45 - We land and go through customs for about an hour. I am told via voicemail that the flight to Boston has been cancelled and am put on a Manchester flight. That means I can't yet check my luggage until I make the domestic terminal. I get to the terminal and wait 2 hours (at least) in a crammed, chaotic line to be told that all of the flights to Boston AND Manchester have been cancelled for the day due to weather. Maybe I should try Laguardia?
14h45 - I call my family to find out all flights into Boston have been cancelled. I am directed to go from JFK to Penn Station to TRY to get a train out.
This is when I start sobbing and crying.
15h - I grab a cab (still crying) that accepts VISA (because my bank card, and cash, has been frozen because I was using it still in Europe?). He helps me out with luggage and promises to get me there, but that there is hour-long traffic into the city. My mom calls back to say I can't get a train to Boston (sold out), but that I have to take it to New Haven, where Dad and Aimee will bring me home. I cry more then fall asleep in the cab.
17h - I get to Penn Station and get my ticket. I grab an unwanted dinner and wait for the 15minutes-late train.
21h35 - I arrive to New Haven, where Aimee and Dad run to me, grab my bags, and drive me half dead and asleep in the back of the car.
I got home at 12:30 in the morning.
That's the general breakdown of it. Really, one of the worst experiences I've ever had in my life.

BUT NOW that I am, in fact, in the states again, it is time to say farewell to the Kim Is Foreign blog, and return to the Kim Is Domestic blog. Ciao, Paris. I love you, and will miss you

Last Night

The last day in Paris was busy!
I met up with Lorena for a goodbye lunch. Reminiscing.
Then we went to close my bank account.
Then I met up with Kendra for a goodbye beer and sorbet. Talked about life.
Then I ran home to clean my apartment as much as possible.
Then ran to meet up with Joris, his ex, Marion, Marie, and Steven at Les Halles for my last night. We ended up going to this Café Rive Droite. I had entrecote and felt like a million pounds. They spoke in fast French (of course) and I missed most of what was going on. I was stressed anyways, so I wasn't focussing very much. Too much had to be done before leaving.
Anyways, the reason we went to this bar was because it became a Karaoke night after 11pm.
The kids got drunk fast, and the karaoke got a lot more fun after that. They sang loudly and usually on pitch. More animation, and even some dancing!
The music was interesting, too. The French songs were ridiculous (like one about Mexico?), and the English songs were sung with some hilarious interpretations and accents.
They made me sing in a group with them to a French song I had never before in my life. So, that was the first problem. Second, language. Third, the French kids weren't even keeping up with the words in the song! Too fast! I just sang "lalalala" and it seemed to be alright. It was a song about being on the boats in the sea..."Emmenez-moi"? It was a lot of fun.
Then Liisa met up with us at the end. The laughs and fun continued. Marie kept saying "Do the chicken!" and I couldn't help but die of laughter every time. We all walked and sang and danced outside.
Marion and Marie are already planning on meeting up with me in NYC (and Boston), and Joris is thinking about joining us sometime, too. Let's hope.
It was really sad to say goodbye to Joris. He's one of my favorites. At least we'll keep in touch, but still, it was bittersweet. He's my boy! He gave me three bises, and he wanted me to know that that was special.
Liisa and I walked back to her flat and talked for a little more than an hour. Another sad (yet not forever) goodbye.
I hopped a cab and got home in time to take a nap before the next adventure began.

Tests, Luggage, and CHOCOLATE

Oh, Liisa, how you spoil my soul...
After my 2 hour final for my last class at Sciences Po (goodbye, french buddies! goodbye, Péniche! how sad), Liisa and I were successfully able to down 1 brownie, 2 servings of ice cream/gelato, and crême brulée (much like my arms...).
We went for a walk to Île Saint Louis to shop around for some final family gifts, but first got our initial chocolate fix. When we got to the shops, we realized we STILL had to try Berthillon ice cream before we cruised that, so we got 2 scoops. Shopped around on the lovely ITTY BITTY island. Then we went for a walk over to Institute Monde Arabe and the Bastille.
It's crazy when you have lived somewhere for a long enough time... you don't realize all of the areas and THINGS you miss out through your daily routine! It's sad that through our getting ready to leave we realize this too late.
Stopped at the opéra to PRAY for punk opera tickets, but to no avail.
Continued to walk around the area until we reached the restaurant that I first went to in Paris a year ago while staying in London: Centinaire. Still good, yup.
We talked and ate for 3 hours. That's when the crême brulée happened.
We walked home via Le Marais, and then said, "Our last stop will be our final bites of Amorino gelato." And we did.
What a nice, relaxing day....post-final, that is.

Now I'm packing. Had to repack the bags, after panickingly discovered I have to actually haul my luggage from connecting flights. I think I've successfully managed to roll everything possible, so now I have just 2 bags (how much they weigh? we'll find out later...). I'm an amazing packer...and yet, I have so much more to pack.
And I have to write 2 letters AS WELL AS clean the flat before I leave. Stress....

Karma Better Be True

Today I have yet again been cooped up in the flat studying for my final that's going to be in about 13 hours. I'm a master of procrastination.
I've discovered I cook and bake a lot when I'm stressed.
At least I haven't started cleaning the apartment, yet. That'll be tomorrow.

Oh, my shoulders are healing. They're peeling and they're mad disgusting looking, but at least I can move them around normally mostly. Things are looking up.

I went to Shopi for some things to make lunch and dinner for myself today. Grabbed my things and scooted out. I am not even a block away from my apartment when this really really really old lady (think at least 80s?) asks me if I have time to help her. I guess I did. She wanted me to assist her to the grocery store. Alright, I'll be a good person, I thought. I can spare 15 minutes walking this woman 2 minutes away.
Mom, I've found someone who is a lot slower than you. Think one foot in front of the other, long pause, repeat. It was really hard, and I spaced out a lot.
So I get the lady to the grocery store and she asks if I have more time to help her in the store. I didn't think I would be able to with my already-purchased-bag on me, but somehow she managed to get the guy to let me in. Another 20 minutes. I didn't know that helping her out was going to invest a lot of my studying time. But I felt bad just leaving her, so I just kept helping her.
I don't think she was entirely well in the head. She was kind of babbling about how "those colored women" (roughly translated from French) were taking care of other people's children. And she commented something along the lines of, "Oh, I know America...they speak English there, right? That's far away. I have seen your president on my TV." Oh, alright, then.
So I get her her groceries, and naturally she asks me to walk with them back to her apartment. Which is, in fact, further than my place is from the store.
So, a total of about 1 hour and 10 minutes today consisted of me doing a good deed by helping this old lady I didn't even know to and fro the grocery store and home. It was harder than I anticipated, and at the end I had to pardon myself to leave because my pot was still on the stove.
I got home and my couscous that I just cooked was cold.
I didn't know that people still were called to randomly to help little old ladies around town. I feel like such a chivalrous...man?

Because of my good deed, I baked a little cake for myself. Really good, actually, with added raspberry kicks to it.

Enough procrastination. Back to studying about public goods and IMF.

Even Buddha Eats Brownies

I've been kind of reclusive lately. Many of the people I like spending time with have already left or are unavailable for the time being. My apartment and I have had some quality time together...packing, cleaning, cooking...

The run yesterday was a joke. The gauze moves around so much I could barely go at a fast pace because when I tried my arms would scream in pain. A for effort?

Last night I went out with Alex and her other Aussie girlfriends to Buddha Bar. I was really expecting the bar to be a club of some sort, where you dance in the middle. But I was very, very wrong. It was a restaurant!!! With a bar on the balcony. Extremely well designed, very beautiful, but no dancing. The music was appropriate and very dancing friendly, if only the location was...we wanted to dance so much, but couldn't! We bought our 1 drink each that cost at least 3 times the normal amount, and relished in them for a few hours while we soaked in the atmosphere and shouted over the music.
It was kind of good that it wasn't a club because my shoulders are still throbbing, but regardless I would have liked to dance a bit.

I went home early enough to catch the métro. I went to bed around 2am, put on my alarm. It didn't go off, and I woke up 11 hours after I feel asleep. I better be well rested! Lazy day...

I baked brownies today, tried a new recipe I found on my favorite recipe site. They're full of cocoa. They're more cakey than brownies, but still taste alright. Lars is coming over to take them, I hope he likes them alright.

I should start studying for my final in 2 days...

Gauzed Up

Second degree burns, anyone?
Just got back from the doctor. She drained the massive shoulder issues I had. Then she put on these graffes (medicated, I assume) and lots of gauze on my arms. Told me I have to do it for 10 days, now.
It was probably one of the most disgusting visits at the doctor I've had for a while. She punctured my burn blisters and stuff came out and it was just not good looking.
But at least it's medicated now, and I should be better in about a week.
My shoulders still kill and I can still barely move my arms around too much without feeling like they'll rip off. The blouse I'm wearing has stains on the shoulders now, and my gauze is moving around a bit (ouch). But I'm on the path of healing, right?

Fête de la Musique

Nightmare.
It was a complete nightmare.
Well, our chorus had a concert to perform at the city hall near school. We didn't sing very well, but that's not surprising. The orchestra was out of tune and not in sync, but that isn't surprising either. One of Auriane's friends was singing with the orchestra a bunch of arias, and she was simply breathtaking! She was really a great soprano. The audience adored her, and so did we. Really a gem of a voice.
I said goodbye to my fellow choral members.
But the wasn't the nightmare.
So my sunburn blisters are ever increasingly worse. Have yet to go to the doctor. I'm trying to find Brandon because it's his last night in the city, so I want to say bye to him. But Fête de la Musique had officially invaded the entire city. I was walking through St. Michel trying to get some food of an edible sort (to no avail) before I met Brandon supposedly at Café Oz, and I was squished in a mob of people! And loud rock music was mixing from every corner! All of the restos were full, and the take out places crammed. I was being painfully pushed back and forth (via shoulders, of course) until I finally got to Châtelet to find out I had to go back towards my house to find Brandon.
École Militaire, here I came. So I finally got there through the MESS on the métro, and am in a LOT of pain (enough to be compelled to cry), and get to the apartment of one of Brandon's drinking buddies. One of the guys from the BBQ, which made it all the more interesting. I love Brandon, but his drinking buddies are not my favorite people in the world. Not my type of a good time nor conversation. Rimi and I left after an hour and the rest of them went towards school. I walked Rimi home and we stayed until 3am talking about everything.
I was going outside to catch a short taxiride (with Rimi beside me) when this guy comes up and tells me that there's no chance in my getting a cab during that night. He starts talking in English to us. Very nice guy. He offered to walk me most of the way. Normally, I'd say no, but for some reason I felt in my gut to take his offer. We walked towards home, and talked. He is this really interesting guy, comes from Russia, studied a bit at UChicago, and graduated from Sciences Po a year or two ago. He was researching organ trafficking, and we talked about my interest in human traffick. He gave me a lot of pointers. And we talked about travelling, where he insisted I go to Venice before I leave (where I insisted I couldn't if I tried). Nice guy, gave me his card when we parted. I'm really glad we met up, I could maybe find out a lot more from him.
Yeah, I gotta go to the doctor now, this blister thing is getting to be too much.

Marseilles & Aix

Marseilles was a pleasant surprise. Except for the second degree burns I've received from its sunrays (and I'm quite serious).
Kendra and I met up at Gare de Lyon to get the train there. Surprisingly, it was a short 3 hour trip. We talked the whole way and excitedly watched the really really pretty scenery pass us by.
We got into Marseilles and easily found our hotel near the station. After we dropped off our bags, we went out into the city for a little late night promenade.
Marseilles is dirty, I will admitt that. But it wasn't disgusting, it was just kinda like parts of NYC where they just can't keep up with the litter. And it smelled like NYC a lot during the day, or like seafood. I don't know why people complain about Marseilles so much, it's really quite pleasant. And to add to the trip, Kendra and I spoke in French most of the trip. That was fun, too.
Kendra and I stopped first to get a seafood dinner at a little plaza area Place Thiars. I ordered a bouillabaisse for us to share. I didn't realize how rich and gravy-like they were supposed to be. Full of fish, yes, but not exactly what I had in mind. Glad I did it, but I prefer the bouillabaisse in NYC....
After our nice dinner, we continued our walk down and around the port. We found a bunch of memorials and forts and nice rocky beach scenes. The only issue we really had was that men kept cat calling us as we walked around. It was constant during the whole trip, to the point where we tried avoiding going anywhere with men.
We got back to the hotel late because we discovered these crazy cow statues all over the city, and felt compelled to take pictures. But when we did get back, we crashed.

In the morning we woke up late and walked to their L'Arc de Triomphe to catch the bus to Aix en Provence. We stopped by a Tunisian bakery first though because we were curious as to what the treats tasted like. We bought a box of treats and split them all. Let me just say that I'm never eating treats again because they are completely LOADED with honey sugar and fried. We felt disgusting the whole day because of those treats, and it was only the first day!
Aix was really really nice, too. It's this small city with really nice architecture and everything is close to each other. The town, I know, has been used in lots of movies for its beauty and quaint places. We walked around, took pictures, joined the market that was all around the town, and even found Sciences Po Aix! Yes, we even went inside...
But unfortunately, it was far too hot to do any extensive walking without getting completely exhausted. So, after a few hours, we finally headed back to Marseilles where we tried looking for light dresses to wear and ended up concluding that a nap was much needed in our A/C room.
We woke up in the evening and decided to take one of the local busses around the city so we could see more. We went by the beaches and saw a lot of rocky shores. The view was really quite amazing. It ended at La Plage de Prado, where we got back on the bus to the port.
We then went out for dinner on the port again. This time it was all veggies and salade and fruit for me. I couldn't deal with the Tunisian overload, still. We chilled out until it was dark, which is when we went for another tour around Marseilles, and we ventured to the other side of the port to where the Hôtel de Ville is. We got very lost, found some really interesting streets and alley ways, and concluded the trip with a view of the Cathédrale de la Major, which looks strangely like the Duomo in Florence. I was interested in the Italian reminents I found in Marseilles. Some of the locals stopped us to talk, but their accents were very strong, so those didn't last too long.
Got to the hotel and crashed hard again.

The next day we had concluded to take a boatride around the Vieux Portes of Marseilles. It was funny because we were the youngest people on the boat as well as the only English speakers. Another 3.5 hours of pure French for us. The French people, you could tell, didn't know what to think about us.
But the boatride was breathtaking. The view of Marseilles (France's oldest city, you know) from sea itself was amazing to see. We were going past these huge rocks and coves and the water was so green and blue and fresh! The best part was we would go to these coves in the middle of nowhere that obviously had no ways of car transport, and yet people lived in these areas! There would be a resto, a café, and houses next to these boats! And the beaches looked amazing, too. The water was SO BLUE! And the villages were SO SMALL! But people were there, we saw them!
Kendra and I were so excited to see these really paradisal areas that we started singing and dancing on the boat. The French people stared.
We got back to quickly grab some food for the trip back to Paris and got onto the train with our fruit and cereal. That is when we discovered our really bad sunburns.
And now my sunburn has turned into a shoulderful of blisters that keep getting bigger and bigger.
I'm going to the doctor today, this is ridiculous (and PAINFUL).

Goodbye, Husband

Said goodbye to Pierre last night.
And Nicolas.
We spoke French most of the night, which was an interesting change for me with those guys. I wonder how I did.
Great guys, I'm really sad I had to say bye so quickly and soon.
And Nicolas is so hard to get a hold of!
I kept joking with Pierre to "have a nice life" and he kept giving me this roll of the eyes with "we'll talk! see you in a year!"
I hope he's right.
They made fun of my sunburn a little bit.
I was a bit ferclempt the entire way home.

The German Invasion

Friday Friday Friday? What happened? Well, I met up with Joris for a while, we went out with his other French friends for a pint (which was a panic purchase on my end since I didn't know what we were doing). Then we went for a drink with his best friend from home and their other friend from somewhere.
Then I went to Gare L'est to get Felix, the German. The little devil that is like a brother to me.
I got him at the station, partially buzzed because I hadn't eaten all day yet managed to have 2 drinks before seeing him. So that means I was speaking in Franglish and annoying poor his poor German self. He didn't feel too well either, unfortunately, so we opted to eat at a brasserie near my apartment so I could have an omelette and he could stomach something light.
The restaurant was cute, but there was a half-crazy-half-wasted man making the most peculiar shrieks at the bar during our hour long meal. Disturbing.
After a nice meal nevertheless, I coaxed him into seeing the Eiffel Tower after the rain stopped a bit. Thinking it was going to be a quiet, leisurely walk, we started our stroll. Then we hit the Woodstock of Paris: le fin du bac. The Bac is the test all French students need to take to pass high school. Ridiculous, yes. And the afterparty has tribal drums, boozing teenagers, and rompous acts of negligence. Felix, being the old man he is, kept saying, "Damn kids...I'm too old for this...with their wreckless drinking...I just want to have a quiet night..." Which reminded me of a grumpy grandpa. So we walked up to the Trocadero to watch the tower sparkle. And within 30 minutes, Felix became well acquainted and rather professional with my personal camera, MUCH moreso than I have ever been.
That was followed by a long walk back.

The next day was started by a trip to the boulanger for some croissants by a sick Felix AND a sick Kim, and a stop at Concorde so we could stroll through the Champs Élysées to look at the concept shops. Felix, being the small-town boy he is, complained most of the day about the amount of walk I made him do. I told him to get a grip.
Metroed over to the Notre Dame area and took more pictures. Went into the cathedral. It was still pretty, but laden with uncaring tourists who were disregarding the notion that Notre Dame is supposed to be a place of worship. Felix took pictures. And complained about the amount of walking he had to do.
I made him walk around school and that area because I had to go to Auriane's birthday meeting over by Odéon. Sure, it was raining, but he didn't seem to mind that. I brought Auriane a little gift, and it was a pleasant little get together. Calm. Felix kept asking me, "This is the French way to paty???" No, Felix. I had this fruit drink called "La Vie En Rose" which tasted like candy! Auriane's boyfriend from England was quite charming, quiet, but we shared a nice conversation. Auriane tried to get me to slip into the British accent, but to no avail.
We finally left the bar and Brandon joined us to get dinner at this really great little place nearby called Del Papa. I'm kinda sad we found this place now; the Italian food was sooo good! And they thought that I was the only one in the group who spoke French, which is funny beause Brandon can speak circles around me. They asked for stories from my "doughnut grandmother", which left them in awe.
Anyways, a very fulfilling and decently priced dinner was followed with us stuffed kids grabbing a gelatto at Amorino's (of course). Quite a deliciously Italian night, if I do say so myself.
Brandon then decided to write his 3 papers at my place that night (which, about 36 hours after that, he's STILL here...working). He didn't do work, though, because Liisa came over and we watched "Zoolander".

Sunday we woke up a bit late, took our time, and Felix and I finally sally forthed to Le Louvre. It rained all day, but it was alright because Felix wanted to spend HOURS in there. Now, remember, I've been there 7 times about now, and I've walked through most of it, but Felix wanted to see it ALL. Twice. Mind you, I'm very sick with a sinus infection now, with no food in the system. It was hard to stay standing, let's say that much. By the end of it, I was glad that the museum closed earlier than usual because it forced us to go home.
Cooked some at night, talked some, joked some, helped Brandon with his work, and slept.

Too bad Felix woke up really late today and made me sprint to Gare L'est (because he can't function travelling alone) so he wouldn't miss his train at 7h24. I didn't get to have a nice morning with him. He made it, though, don't worry.

Grades Roll In

A word to men on cheek kissing: If you gently hold the woman's head while you kiss her on the cheek (and I mean kiss well, none of those nonchallant bises), it'll make her swoon.
........
Moving right along.
Passed marketing officially. Aced my papers for European Business Environment and French Opera. Was officially one of the worst students in my French class, but still passed and was told I did an excellent job and improved a lot.
I made friends with yet another German today while in chorus. He is this pleasant guy from the Erasmus program at Paris I. We talked in Franglish. He ended up walking around with me for a short while after practice and showed me this city-wide festival called Designer's Day. Basically, a lot of designer stores around Paris are having open house parties with free flowing champagne and wine and hors d'oeuvres and everything. I also ate this really funky ice cream on vegetables thing.....it was weird tasting. But it was a very interesting way to cap off the day.
I hate the dog that lives next door.
In other news, did you know it was actually physically possible to rip someone's testacles off???

Goodbye, Caterpillar

Peter bought me a red rose.
It was his last night.
People came over to my place for dinner last night while I made a quick dinner and 2 desserts (brownies and cookies). It was a nice calm dinner for most of the end, but the beginning was a bit chaotic because I poorly planned the blasted thing. Oh well, moving right along.
Peter kept talking about he was worried it was the end of his life / the world, then would tell us all about he's going to change his life in Scotland around.
My little boy has grown up so much this semester. I met him his first day in Paris, and he was like a little kid scared and ornery. And now? He's this guy! This guy who makes some decisions and can woo girls and stay off the liquor on his own accord and is sweet and funny and caring! I'm so proud of him and how far he has come along with us.
Afterwards, Brandon Lorena Peter and I went to Chez George for Peter's final bar in Paris.
Lorena and I danced. Brandon encouraged me and helped boost my self esteem. Peter was being noble and socializing over bottles of wine.
I finally had to leave, though, to catch the last métro. Peter got a little teary eyed. He gave me a huge and long bear hug, kissed me a bunch of times on the cheek, telling me how much he loved me and how much I did for him and all of that. I promised him we would still be seeing each other, I promise. He bought me the rose as I left.
Peter the caterpillar has butterflied.
I was a bit weepy the entire time getting home, and I am keeping that rose for as long as possible.

Ponts Et Galas

Yesterday was chaos.
So, I was running all around to get to things on time. Class happened. Kendra and I went to Angelina to drink hot chocolate, excessively, and to eat salads like somewhat decently good but not really girls. Ran to Rimi's to sew up my dress. Then I ran late to my dîner de conference with my French class.
We met at Pont des Arts. This bridge is where loads of people go to eat and drink with friends. It's basically a social bridge. Hard to explain. It's always packed, and usually full with very drunk teenagers and not-as-drunk older adults.
Anyways! Everyone (except me) brought something to munch on. We feasted on a lot of interesting concotions. Our teacher brought some red wine from his hometown, Tours (which we bonded over). It was a really nice 2 hours on the bridge, drinking wine, talking in French, bonding with my French class not in the classroom. Really cool kids. I talked mostly to my teacher (who looks 30 but is 41...which is why I need to move to France), a girl from Buenos Aires, and a guy from Slovakia. Lots of laughs. We talked a lot. Mixed up the languages a bit; Spanish, English, Polish, French, some others...I really really had a nice time with them, casually lounging on the bridge...until it started to pour rain.
So, I ran back to Rimi's apartment to get ready for the Gala. The Gala is basically Sciences Po's strong (yet not quite satisfying) attempt at making an American prom. Huge differences: It was an open alcohol bar, 2 club levels, an outside, and HUNDREDS OF DRUNK FRENCH KIDS! But more on that later...
It took Rimi and I about 2 hours to get me prepared for the Gala. Makeup, hair, jewelry...it was all a hot mess. We laughed a lot, and poor girl got really confused when she was trying to apply eye shadow on me....because I don't have Asian eyes.
I got to the Institute Mondial Arabe for the Gala an hour into it. The building is magnifiscent, that's for sure. The line, though, was 30 minutes long. I was all alone. Made friends with a nice foreign girl. We hit it off and joked about what we expected.
Finally got in, and took another 30 minutes to fail at getting a free drink. Too many drunk kids were more aggressive than me. Oh well.
I saw José walking around in uniform, so I slid over to bug him. He was not in a very happy mood, telling me that he didn't know why he came, that he didn't know anyone, and yet he had so many girls to dance with.
Oh, poor baby. No pity.
So we hung out for about 30 minutes or so. We went up to the beautiful balcony to talk a bit, but he was constantly distracted by other people and started talking to his other friends he found on the way. I ended up waiting for him to stop talking to others than talking to him myself. By the end, he implied that he was going to leave and that I wouldn't see him until next semester when he does exchange at Westpoint. Thinking about how big of a jerk move it was, I let him walk off with a group of other kids, and I was officially not enjoying the formal.
And my other friends there were either running and managing the night (aka too busy to have fun) or with a bigger group of friends I didn't know at all.
Luckily, I found Annelise the Australian girl I've known since the beginning. We we both disappointed in the night, but then concluded to go have fun downstairs in the club area anyways, despite it all. We found some of the other international kids she's close with (who were all moderately to extremely inebriated), and we ended up enjoying ourselves dancing and goofing off on the dance floor for about an hour. I even met up with the girl from the line. She decided we were best friends or something...
Finally, however, I concluded to leave at last. But the girl from the line insisted on going up to the balcony with me anyways. Alright, drunk girl, I'll humor you. So we go up, and I look around, and I find Joris! My favorite! The one working the night! So I went over to him, and he absolutely made my night. He was excited to see me, was the first person to tell me I looked nice ("Looking cute!" is what he said, and that I looked like Carrie from "Sex In The City" --a New York woman -- to be honest) and talked with me. And he looked dashing! He was taking time to talk to me, and I felt so cool. He was cutting convos short with other people to talk to me. I told him that I was going home then, and so he decided to escort me downstairs. He ended up walking me outside (it helped that he wanted to smoke) and we talked for about an hour outside
Saw José leave with some random girl, which he tried to skirt away from saying bye to me again. Oh, not cool.
I went home and fell asleep around 4h30, exhausted, and slept through my class.
Anyways, thank goodness for Joris. He made my night officially.

Driving Through Normandy

This weekend I went with friends to the Normandy coasts. Because Paz insisted on not waiting for when Liisa was available to drive and no one else was of age, I was assigned to rent and drive a car. Driving in Europe, check. One less thing to not have done in life. It was an adventure, for sure. Though, I think the 12 hours was a bit excessive. And I was promised a Mercedes, but received a Citroën instead.
So, on Saturday morning, I was the only person on time to leave. Then we had to wait for an extra hour or so because Lorena and Brandon (the other driver) had slept through their alarm clocks and we had to call and wake them up. Being one of my huge pet peeves, I had to fume a bit and walk around the station for an hour.
What really sucked about the trip was that essentially the GPS unit was given to me, and the couple stayed in the back to make out all 12 hours and cuddle and everything, while poor Rimi tried hard to stay awake to keep me awake and living, and I drove. And drove.
And Brandon's car had a lot of fun because they actually all talked and sang and didn't depend on an obnoxious GPS system to figure the way for them.

Anyways, the first place we stepped off to was Caen to see William the Conqueror's fortress. Not extremely impressive. Basically just this big walled park with a church and museum in it in the middle of some old town. It was on a lovely hill. Nice cathedral outside. And it was free. Pleasant, but I think we stayed there a little bit long.
Next we voyaged to Bayeaux to see the Tapestry. The museum was super simple, but I thought it was remarkable. Simple, but it worked. They give you audio guides and you walk around the 70 meter tapestry while listening to the explanations of everything. It really is an amazing piece of art. And there was a whole lot of DDay Vets at the museum. They were excited to see a bunch of American kids, so one man particularly continued coming back to talk to us. He was really adorable.
As we drove to the beaches, we literally came into a wall of fog. Sunny one minute, all of a sudden engulfed in this thick soup of fog. It was very eery, especially since it was the week of the anniversary...
We made it to the American Cemetery on the beaches just before it was getting ready to close. The fog really added to the somber atmosphere of the huge site. Beautiful fountains. A cliff over the beaches (that we went down to, and were not completely impressed with....it was a beach, but we were expecting more). The graves were absolutely beautiful. I hate to be walking around graves and taking pictures, but it was so artistically done and beautiful that I couldn't help it. Fog, too! Taps were being played while they lowered the flags, and then we were kicked out of the park.
The last stop of the day was (again, for me) Mont St Michel. We were there the same weekend that the big Marathon was happening, so it was packed with fans and tourists and runners and all. The hotel was nice, clean, and modern. And only 2km from the mount. So, we walked at night to it. Got a bit in the way of the marathon runners.
I am amazed at marathon runners. They really are inspirational. 47km?! And such perseverance! I'm tempted to try training for one, just to be able to do it and say I have. I think it's something to investigate when I stay a little more rooted...
Damn, can Rimi eat. She was hungry always and ate a lot!
The mount is actually nicer at night when everyone's left. We waited for about 40 minutes for the other car to get there so we could eat at one of the restos at the top of the mount. It was a nice dinner, and there were fireworks going on outside on the waterfront, so we enjoyed the view. After we ate, we walked around the city walls and got lost a bit. It was really nice to walk around without a lot of people crowding the streets, and it is so well lit at nighttime! Even walking through the little cemetary was interesting! It really was something I'm glad to have done. We joked off at the top of the mount (when we finally reached it...), and I dropped my sunglasses down probably 3 or 5 stories! Don't worry, they still function quite well (thanks, $5 sunglasses from Target!). Brandon grew into taking pictures of the group while going down stairs. Not a good idea. But we still enjoyed it all.
We walked back to the hotel after they turned off all of the lights of the city, which was a bit creepy, and hard to see things. Luckily, the marathon had just ended the parties, so cars lit our way back on the road.

The next day we woke up early to go to the grocer's next to the hotel to buy our breakfast. I bought a box of chocolate cereal that I ended up finishing that day.
We roamed around the mount again, only this time we had a time limit and were mainly interested in going through the Abbaye. Having already gone through the abbey, I joined up with a French tour, and got yelled at by a bunch of the french folks because I didn't realized it was a private group. Oops.
We left to hit up the cape town Saint Malo for lunch. It really is an adorable seaport town, walled with bricks, tightly nooked buildings. And lots of sea and boats and yachts. Because we didn't have lots of time, though, we only had an hour to look around fast, eat lunch, and scoot out. The parking itself took 20 minutes. So we basically had time to walk in, eat pizza and an ice cream cone, and leave again.
The trip back was agony. 4 hours turned to about 5.5/6 hours from the traffic. I was fuming because Paz insisted on being rude to me the entire trip, and then continue to snuggle in my rearview mirror. And so by the end of the trip, I was on the verge of tears from frustration and aggrivation and I busted out of that car ASAP.
I wish I didn't have to spend so much time in the car and more time with my friends in the other car.

Some Finishing Educational Touches

Had my final for Marketing on Friday. Done.
Passed French class.
Got my final paper back in EBE and did well. Just a final left for that.
Negotiations is done.
French opera is the only unsure one.

It's getting close to the final stretch. 16 days left. Not ready yet.

Some Poetry

Gencho invited me to a poetry reading on Tuesday. I don't know how he got the idea that I was super into poetry, but I'm not.
Nevertheless, despite not feeling great, I got myself up and out and -- in the baggiest outfit I think I have -- looking for a bunch of American and French poets.
Don't know how, but I managed to get pretty lost for roughly 30 minutes before I even got to the club the reading was at. Stopped and asked a bunch of local bartenders, who flirted with me before giving me the answer I wanted.
Got to the reading, and it was just as I thought it'd be. It was in a cave, so it was darkly lit (oh, the ambience...). I walk into the basement to find a bunch of people lounging on the floor and scattered chairs to listen to this woman silhouetted in the corner reading poetry. Some was French, some was English.
I didn't feel like sitting down, so I stayed in the hallway just next to the reading and listened. Gencho tried to get me into the room, but I refused.
I do like poetry. I think that those can write good poetry are marvelously intelligent. But I think that some people into poetry use it as a form of mental masturbation and really are taking themselves too seriously or deeply.
The woman was writing a passionate letter to Henry Ford. Oh, alright.
The last guy wrote only in French. I liked him the best. His were humorous yet provokative. One was about how different groups of people count to 15, another was about the different ways of thinking (or not thinking to think, or thinking to not think...).
I left early, much to Gencho's dismay.

Day Trip Toute Seul

Today I woke up at 5h30 and got to Gare Montparnasse around 7h. I had a return trip to go to Rennes that I was supposed to go with Joris on, but since he had a final pop up that day I was not going to let my ticket go to waste.
I had a long train ride to Rennes, where I was in a twilighted sleep that makes you roll your neck around and eventually makes you feel kind of motion sick. But I finally got into Rennes.
When in the city, I looked for the bus times to Mont St Michel. Much to my dismay, I had 2 hours to kill before it left. I went for a stroll on the big street to discover a little about Renes.
Old city from the 11th century, small and intimate. It was like a smaller version of London with Parisian imitation. The buildings in the area I was in were newer, and I mean the ugly art-deco types. I didn't get very far because my stride was small since I kicked my ass in an hour of yoga the day before.
Got onto the 1.5 hour busride to Mont St Michel. Another rolling-of-the-neck trip.
And then Mont St Michel comes into view. It was like hearing Common Man playing in the background. It was huge, intimidating, looming. Beautiful. We got out of the bus and I could only look up for the first few minutes. But I had only 4 hours before the last bus back to Rennes, so I hopped to it as fast as possible.
Did I mention yet that tourists are infestations? I know I am one, but these people come in swarms, I promise you! And the worst ones I would say are the Scottish, Americans, and Japanese (or, more general, Asians). The city was completely riddled with people, and I could barely walk forward let alone hear myself think. The shops were all tourist shops now. And the restos were in English, too. Made me feel guilty being there.
Anyways, the Mount is basically this enormous hill where you have to walk up ramps and LOTS of stairs. Lots. I enjoyed that part a bit because I felt like I was getting somewhere, and most of the tourists seemed to be apprehensive of climbing the steps, so remained on the lower grounds.
The abbey itself is interesting. There is no real furniture in it, but I don't think it really needs it. The architecture is stunning. And there are so many nooks and crannies in the structure that you could surely get lost for HOURS in the place if you didn't have the museum signs and arrows everywhere. The bigger chapel in the abbey had a service while I was there. I was intrigued to watch it in this magnificent background, and tourists in their sneakers and fanny packs sitting down to take vigil. And then a little girl started screaming. Enough with that, I'm out. I somehow got stuck in some Eastern European school trip. German? Russian? Something else? I'm not sure. I think there might have been 2 trips, because I know I heard German, but then there was another more Slavic language being spoken that confused me.
I didn't take too long in the Abbey, mostly because I know I'll be back in a few days with the gang. So I went for a walk around the gardens and walls. The island has so many different staircases and pathways! I don't know how I ended up where.
Ended up finding a little restaurant that wasn't too crowded to eat an omelette at. But it wasn't good, they had the hardest time keeping track of who ordered what, despite the small crowd. The women forgot I was there, forgot what I ordered, forgot THAT I ordered. Agh, frustration. The omelette was foamy (yes, for real) but tastey. This old American couple sat next to me and were completely hopeless. Couldn't read French, and tried to do that thing Americans do, "Excuse-ay-mwa? I'll have umm..le wah-terrr? Si, wah-terrr." Oh, no. And they were looking at the menu as if it were in another alphabet. I asked them if they needed help, in which they said yes and asked lots of questions. They ended up still messing up the order so I guess I wasn't too much help. And they asked a lot about me and why I was in France, they were telling me that they were with tour group that was going all over France. It didn't sound like they were enjoying the trip too much, despite their patience, discouraging me more to ever take a tour trip somewhere else in the world.
Walked some more, shopped, strolled on the ocean side. Read my French book. It was a calm day, aside from the mayhem of tourists.
Waiting for the bus back, I started talking to this Japanese couple. They knew NO FRENCH. And were trying hard in English. They liked that I was from NY. They were on their honeymoon. They insisted on taking a picture with me. And now, somewhere in Japan, I will forever be in someone's honeymoon album as "the girl from nyc that we met in france".
Back in Rennes, had 2 hours to kill before my train. Read, ate a salad. Mounted the train, and that was that.

Blech

Haven't been feeling super hot lately.
Stomach ache. Realized I've lost a lot of muscle while being here. Just overall gross feeling.

Cooked on Saturday. Had a small group of only 6 of us! That was the smallest group I've cooked for here!
I went to the Salvador Dalí Museum with Kendra on Sunday. It was really amazing. I didn't realized how many sketches Dalí actually drew! And he was really into randomness. I really like his works a lot. Some more than others, of course, but overall he's one of my top 5.
I love the fact that his melted clocks were based on a train of thought at a dinner party. He was glancing at a wheel of camembert cheese, and was somehow brought to thinking about how time was fluid...and thus he went from point A to point Q3 in one swift step. I feel like I relate to his way of thinking a whole lot. The only difference is that his was considered a form of genius, while mine is considered a handicap.
Kendra and I afterwards went for a nice long walk. Just talking. It is fun because we just talk, and none of it matters, yet, it does. Anyways, we ended up going to the Cimetière de Montmartre and roamed around the not-so-little city of dead people. We found Adolphe Sax, and since she's an avid saxophone player, she was very happy to see him. Another 2 hours of walking around the city and we parted ways.
Peter was over my place the entire time working on my computer. He bought pizza (blech) out of grattude. Note: Peter lost one of his front teeth in a drunken tumble. That means I had to cut his pizza up (like a mom for a 2 year old) in little pieces. He then went off about how he was straight-edge from now on, changed man, alcohol ruins people, blah blah blah.
Yesterday, I officially finished writing papers for Sciences Po. I also finished my course in economic negotiations. The debate was about US & EU negotiations about steel. Not terribly interesting, but a bit. I passed my french final. My prof even told me that I have progressed a lot. High five.
I met up with Piere and we got a really fast tea at the Mosquée. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I just felt aggressive the entire time. It's nice to see him, and to see that he's no longer running around frantic trying to juggle everything. But it's too bad I'm leaving soon and we can't spend a lot more time hanging out. This goes for most people, though, I guess.
I ran into a lot of people before I got home from class last night.
Particularly, I ran into José on the street. He started going off about this weekend and how busy it was and how he didn't even have time to sleep.....and I had no idea why he was telling me all of this, until I realized he was using it as an excuse for something. I just wanted to ask him if he got his ticket for the Gala. Which he did. The other stuff I couldn't have cared less about. Oh, people.