Tuesday, April 01, 2003: Shakira and Spring Breaks.

Hi guys!!!

Yup, whenever, wherever, we like to be together, or some baloney like that. Last week, I had lunch with Shakira. Actually, she had lunch and I watched her through the window, but I’m pretty sure that secretly she was wishing I would actually come in and join her. Little did she know that she only had to ask. But then again, I don’t really like her music, so then what am I supposed to say? “Hey Shak, can you stop making those ridiculous songs?” Probably not, because her bodyguard might swiftly remove me from the premises. She had a concert last Friday, so sh ewas in town having a late lunch with some handsome fella around the corner from my grammar class.

I hate celebrity-staring, so it wasn’t that great for me, y’all should keep your eyes peeled for the latest People Magazine and see me in the background as she hops in her Mercedes. Then were seven motorcycles and a van full of paparazzi following her. What a crappy life, in my opinion. Drive after some tiny girl who’s nothing but hair (or whoever you follow) and take their photos all day long… this is her getting out of the car… this is her getting into the car… this is her going into the hotel… etc. Pulease. It was nevertheless a little excitement in an otherwise routine day.

Last Tuesday, my friends from Alabama; Chris Merritt and Mark Underwood rolled into town on a little European tour they were on. They were only in town for a few days, but we went out on the town and really had a lot of fun. It was so awesome to see some familiar faces and hang out and speak English(although the majority of my friends here speak English, but the accent made me feel at home). “Mercy boo coo.” I thoroughly enjoyed their visit.

Saturday, I had a little daytrip to two chateaus: Fontainbleau and Vaux-le-Vicompte, which were quite beautiful, as one may expect. I mean, how often do you hear, “here is my stupid ole chateau… it’s not much, but I do what I can…?” Doesn’t happen. So that was really fun and I even had a hot fudge sundae at V-l-V, so my weekend was complete. Ice cream and I are great friends. Thus the buddha belly.

Soooooo, it’s hard to believe, but I am more than halfway through this and my spring break begins on Saturday. Friday night I have a Roots concert and on Saturday afternoon, I leave for Amsterdam. From there I am going to Interlaken, Switzerland and then Salzburg, Austria and then Rome, then Florence, then Aix-en-Provence and then finally back to Paris. It is about a two and a half week tour. I am so excited to have the chance to see all of this, so I can’t wait. I’m exhausted though from my new bedtime of 4 a.m., so I think I”ll call it quits early for the next couple days so that I can make it through the whole trip. The train situation and hostels should prove themselves to be an adventure. I will try to send little updates as I go along, but it depends on how much internet access is (I might only get a “Hey mom, I’m alive!” out). After that I only have two more weeks of class, and then about 3 scattered weeks of exams, a ten-day post-trip stay with Ian, which will probably include more travel, and then I’m home! I’m really sad about that. I don’t want to come home. Sorry, but I don’t. Not yet, anyways. Maybe by that time, I will. I am definitely looking forward to seeing everyone though. I miss you guys a lot!

Sorry the Chronicles are a little more scarce these days, I don’t have as much to say because things aren’t as new, and I’m a lazy butt about getting on the internet. However, I hope you all enjoy your respective spring breaks, or just springtime… it’s-a-comin’, I swear!

Take care ya’ll. Til next time, lotsa love.

Monday, March 24, 2003: High Tides and Visitors.

To all of my fans:

Ok, that was a joke, so I hope you didn’t take me seriously. I would like to report that I have found a close internet cafe with American keyboards, which is expensive, yet at this moment… oh so worth it. I know I have not written in a while and I am sorry for those of you who have assumed that I dropped off the Eiffel Tower. I’m still alive and kicking, but was out of the city and then consumed by visitors and thus, unable to update. Sorry, sorry, sorry. So this might be a bit long (who am I trying to kid, they’re never short!) with abbreviated versions of every situation, but well, when you get behind, you gotta do what you gotta do.

What a crazy past two weeks, eh? First of all, I spent the past three on my tiptoes freaking out that good ole Bush-y-poo would declare war and thus international travel too dangerous for my family’s arrival. Never fear, that was not a reality, but as we all know, he did give the go ahead and did so on the DAY OF their arrival. Thus, one will always be associated with the other, at least in my head.  But great stuff happened, too, and since I try not to write to depress, let’s get to the good stuff, mkay?

Well, two weekends ago, I was fortunate enough to get a little trip to Normandy and Brittany. For a brief overview of the things we accomplished: we went to the Museum of Peace in Caen and the cemetery and Omaha Beach in Normandy. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but is it not an amazing time to be visiting such establishments, or places? I’m not wrong: it was amazing. If I hadn’t already seen 4 billion pictures of the cemetery, I would have been more immensely moved by the sight of thousands and thousands of graves on “American soil” in France. And not of people who have passed away over the years, but thousands of people who died all at once in one place. Incredible. And I have been craving beach like you wouldn’t believe, so to take off my shoes and walk on Omaha Beach was equally incredible and cool. Literally it was freezing freezing freezing. And I got hit on by a British elementary school boy, which warms your heart right there. We also visited a small breathtaking village called Dinan, and saw the Mont St. Michel, which is so inspiring, I can’t even explain it. But I’ll get right on to the good stuff of the retarded highlight of my trip. It’s really special. More special than Wal-Mart.

We stayed in a hotel in a town called St. Malo; a little city right on the ocean with a harbor and beautiful little streets and the beach to walk along. It was so refreshing. Some good seafood didn’t hurt either!

There was a little fortress/castle type of thing that was out on an island, surrounded by rocks, that could access at low tide on the beach, not too far from our hotel. On the last afternoon that we were there, we had free time, so I wandered with a couple friends out to the fortress/castle, and climbed like a little monkey out on the rocks around the fortress/castle to the back of it. This way, I could just see out to the ocean and where the tip of the city met the ocean. It was so peaceful and wonderful sitting there and talking, while the waves crashed up on the rocks and the shore, and watching the 35 sailboats out blowing around.

Newsflash: when peaceful waves start crashing higher and higher, the tide is going in. And you know what happens when the tide goes in? The fortress/castle  and surrounding rocks become an island once again, accessible only by boat. And you know what happens when Bri is not facing the shore and the tide is going in and the thing is becoming an island?

Yup. She gets stuck out there.

Or that’s what you may think. But Bri doesn’t just accept that type of fate. She gets in the ocean and wades her little booty right back to the shore. Even if 40 people have gathered to watch. With their cameras flashing and videocameras rolling, like a pod of dolphins just got beached. Even if the water is almost up to her underpants. So yeah, we realized almost, but not quite too late that we were about to be stuck out on that island.

So we surfaced around the building and spotted a couple of people who had waded, but were already to the shore. So we had to get in, or spend six more hours sitting there on the island. Shoes off, pants rolled up and seriously, some of our friends and many strangers spotted our dumb butts on the island and stood to watch if we would actually make it. Note to the public: not warm enough to swim yet. Actually, stay clear for another two months.

So that trip, despite its adventure and drama, was absolutely so wonderful and I’m really thankful that my program took us on it. It was a great break from Paris and all of its craziness for a couple days. I was able to spend some time just chilling and thinking, and that was really in order, so that was great. But I was ready to get back to my buddies and it lead right into the arrival of my family… another great thing.

They came here three hours after I went to bed. (I went to bed at 7 a.m., following a night at one of Paris’ finest dance clubs… note to the children out there: when mom and dad are arriving, don’t stay out all night long enough for the metro to start running again… you won’t recover all week!). But I was so glad to see them, and despite everyone’s fatigue, we hit the ground running and crawled into the finish line. We did the Champs d’Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, a river Seine boat cruise, the Picasso Museum, Notre Dame, a lot of walking and eating… of which Cuban food was my favorite. Lots of touristy things, but not enough. And that little resume, in no way does justice to the magnificent-ness of their visit, but I can’t blah blah forever, you’ll stop reading. But their fun and generosity to not only me, but my friends, was great as usual.

I am just so glad my family got to experience a slice of my experience alongside with me. My friends just loved them too, which is always very cool to me to feel like I can hang out with both friends and family simultaneously. So fam, thanks for coming– I loved it and appreciated every (fleeting fast as a ahem) moment.

Tomorrow Chris Merritt and Mark will be pulling into Paris, which I am very excited about. It’s so crazy to me that I will be seeing my friends from Alabama in Paris. Ahh! I can’t wait to see them and (try to) show them around a little.

Otherwise, just trying to stay focused on school as the flowers and trees are blooming, the weather is becoming just incredible and summerlike and spring is more than in the air! It’s a great feeling when spring arrives, and I’m sure BAMA can sympathize and the North hates me. Ehhhhh sorry!

Thanks to those of you writing and sharing what’s up and wondering where the hell I went! I miss all of you guys! For the groups or individuals wondering about travel in Fracne: I don’t perceive it to be dangerous. I live one block from the train station where the Ricin (sp?) was found and I use that station at least once a day. I still don’t feel unsafe. The fact that they found it and took care of it before it could even become a problem comforts me. And I shouldn’t even use that word, because it implies that I was at some point worried about it and I wasn’t. I feel very very safe here, as much as I feel that any person can feel safe in any place around the world. I live in a huge city, which carries its own safety concerns, but beyond those, I ain’t got ‘em!

One more thing and I’m outta here. Spring break is about to be set in stone tomorrow and it is as follows: A couple (2-4) days in each of the following locations: Amsterdam; Salzburg, Austria; Zurich, Switzerland; Rome and Florence, Italy; and then Barcelona before heading back to Paris. That should only further the amazement I feel every time I look at something over here. I hope travel remains safe.

I hope you all are doing really well. I know that seems too impersonal a statement in a mass email, but I really do! I love you all and I’m sorry that BAMA already bit the dust. I still have a chance in the Paris NCAA Pool, though… we’re gonna win, Daddy!

Hugs and mwahs!

Sunday, March 9, 2003: Art, Exploration and Life Before the War.

Hey Etats-Unis…

Sixty degrees, baby! Blue skies. Puffy clouds. And I took advantage of it all, I have to say. First of all, I am back on track and ready to start emailing again. I was real frustrated for a bit there, but I took a small break, and I’m good to go. You see, I lost the last email I wrote detailed our (Ian and me) amazing weekend last weekend (Modern Art Museum, Jazz Club, Musee d’Orsay, great dinner… it was good). The computer froze and I lost it. Then I rewrote it, only to lose it a second time. Ultimate anger… and I couldn’t do it again. And I never get online time, either, so I gave up and got pissed. So someday, when you are all old enough, I will tell you about that weekend in person. Until then, so sorry, Charlie.

I took a deep breath and calmed down. It has been a wineful week, but nothing too crazy. A few things have come to a head, including schoolwork, homesickness and frustration. It’s about to be midterm time and we are moving on to harder subjects. I get frustrated when I don’t know what’s going on… I like to have my finger on the pulse. So I just get mad; not even. I also have (finally) begun to miss people. Not to offend those I love, but I didn’t really, really miss you until recently, as in this week. I mean, I missed you, but not like this week, where I am just dying to see you. If you are getting this email, I am dying to see you. But it’s cool; others are feeling the same sentiment here, so I am not alone. I figured out that this is the longest I’ve ever been away from BAMA: three months. So it has hit that mark and we have three more to go. So you know, it’s rough.

But I got everything back together this weekend, and I’m cool again. I’m back to lovin’ life and I have reduced myself to the fact that I’ll see y’all in June.

So, about my weekend (because nothing noteworthy has really happened this week). Friday morning I had an art history museum visit, which was quite enjoyable because we went to a few smaller museums, which are easier for me to digest during those art history sections. We went to the Rodin Museum. “The Thinker” is on loan to Berlin, but the rest were great. I love sculpture and don’t get tired of it quickly. It’s fun to sketch, too… even if you can’t sketch… you think you can. Then we went to Napoleon’s Tomb at les Invalides. Honestly, I couldn’t give two hoots about Napoleon’s Tomb because who’s to say he’s really in there? But the building was breathtaking, I must say.

Saturday morning, I got on the train and headed to Versailles (the palace that Louis XIV, XV and XVI lived in… an impressive spread). I’ve been there before and a.) I went to bed at 4:30 the previous morning and b.) the fountains and flowers weren’t out there and so c.) I didn’t actually stay out there all day. I went in a hurry to find food, because I hadn’t eaten since 3 in the morning. I know, sad. But I was hungry and made a mad dash for the nearest eatery.

It was weird to be at Versailles because I went there in high school and it brought back many deja-vu’s. It all came RUSHING back to me the place we ate at together and when we went to a pay phone, called our high school and demanded that Principal Harpster put us on the morning announcements (she didn’t, but we tried). Hello, we were calling from France; throw us a bone. But no. We also ate at the same place as high school… how weird? It was fun anyway. I enjoyed the gold-laden and lush layout that ole King Louis put up. Hunting lodge, my booty! That is a damn palace. I am hoping to return there in a few weeks when the flowers are in bloom. That will be quite nice, I do believe.

Saturday night, Ian came over to my place and chilled with my peeps. It was really fun for us to all get together. Everyone got along gloriously and Ian’s cooking skills are notorious at ACCENT, so he was a hit and then some. We ended up at a British bar, which was temporarily fun. Then back to ACCENT to call it a night.

Today it was beyond beautiful. The best weather I have seen yet. I woke up rather late and went immediately to get a greek sandwich with fries. That is when I discovered that it was so nice outside and made the immediate decision to go running (I hadn’t done it yet… keep talking, not doing, ’til today). So later I went up on the Promenade (remember I told you about the great flowery walkway near my house… well flowers are out and it was great to walk on, or run, as I did). To be honest, I pushed the envelope. To go there and back is 4.5 miles and I busted it out. It was so nice that I just kept going, plus I was really curious to see exactly where and how far it went. So I did it, which was really fun.

When I got home, Sam had to go to the Musee d’Orsay to analyse a painting, so I agreed to go, even though I didn’t want to be inside. I am the Musee d’Orsay, I’ve been so often. But we were on our way and we got distracted by a market, and then we crossed the river and got lost-ish. So we decided to forget about the museum and walk around and explore and enjoy the day. THEN that butthead mentioned that he wanted a smoothie. They don’t exist here, along with take-out coffee like Starbucks. COME ON, gimme some coffee to go! So it became a one-way mission to find a smoothie. It was beyond an obsession; it was life or death. We walked from Notre Dame all the way to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Elysees. Because it is so Americanized, I was convinced we could find a smoothie there. That is SUCH a far walk, but we saw the coolest thing: a snakeboard… like a squiggly skateboard. Very cool. Also we watched the coolest bladers ever there. We finally got to the Champs and found no smoothie, but a sorbet shop instead, which is almost as great. So that was good. It was so nice outside, it didn’t matter what we did; we were ecstatic.

Then I headed to Ian’s for the last Sunday Night Special for a while, due to visitors on both of our parts, as well as my Spring Break. He made Braciole: a pounded out piece of beef rolled with spinach, bread crumbs, prosciutto and cheese. Served with pasta, salad and bread, and an appetizer of a stuffed tomato. It was, as usual, incredible. Even Ian acknowledged its goodness (sometimes he isn’t pleased with the result. I always am, but he’s a food snob). However, it was universal that this was delicious. I am very stuffed and happy. Delicious, delicious, delicious.

Many of you have inquired about the political front. Understandable, since you are in the United States. But I must remind you all that I do not have the American media here to get me all hyped up. I read newspapers when I note that something big has happened, but I am always aware of what newspaper has what political affiliation here, to be able to take that into account.

For those of you that are worried; don’t be. France does not hate Americans, they hate Bush. They think Dubya is a moron, basically, but they don’t hold the rest of us accountable for that. So don’t think I’m getting a cultural beating for what ole G. Dub does. I’m not. We’ll see what happens once we go to war, but for right now, it’s a-ok and no worries. I’m trying to stay abreast of American goings-on. I’m sad that we need to go to war about the time that my family is coming here, and if the declaration of war interferes with their arrival, I’m calling Bush and giving him a piece of my mind. But hopefully that won’t be a concern. From what I understand, France says they are staying out of it to support world peace, and they think America is only in it for oil and to obliterate Hussein. However, they, too have oil interests in Iraq that they probably don’t want to mess with. But we will see what they do when push comes to shove. So I’m trying to pay attention, but I don’t freak everyday. I’m not inspired to.

Anyway, I will let y’all go, but long time, no word and I thought you should know the latest and greatest. I hope you are all doing really, really well and looking forward to Spring. Daffodils are here now and lil’ flowers are coming… oh yay, Spring. I can’t wait. I love it.

Take care until next time and stay in touch… don’t get mad if I don’t send as many personal emails as you all would like, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday to be online. Think of you all often, miss you like crazy and love you lots!

Hugs and kisses.

Monday, February 24, 2003: Lilles, Montmartre and American Opinions.

Time to start a new week, America! And I have lots to tell you about this weekend, so grab a cup of coffee and sit tight…

Good morning! I’m up bright and early to get some time on the computers since there are now a million kids going through the ACCENT Center and all of those little jerks want to check their email: go figure!

I warned you last time that I had a day trip this past weekend to Lilles, France, right? Right. Well I got on a bus at 8:30 a.m. and headed 2.5 hours north-ish (not exactly sure where I went, but it was north-ish) to what I thought was going to be a sleepy little town, because of course I did no research prior to my departure. Wrong. It was a city, and at first I was thinking “Oh super, I was hoping to get out of the city for a day so I wouldn’t have pushy bratty people.” Really, the people aren’t that bad in Paris, but it is a big city, and a few bad apples… you know the drill.

We had an hour for lunch right off the bat. I spent much of it wandering through the streets and totally falling in love with this little city. It’s not as big as Paris and the pace of life seemed slower (or maybe no one was awake on a Saturday morning). I enjoyed looking around because the architecture was incredible and the shops were so cute (if you are rolling in dough and I’m not, but I pretended and looked around). I did get a really pretty little I’m-not-telling-because-then-it-won’t-be-a-secret present for my sister. I’ll tell the rest of you later, after she comes here. Then I decided I was hungry after all. The big thing there is mussels and french fries, but I can’t remember if I like mussels and wasting my money is not ok, so we went to a little cafe with options. It was in the middle of the big town square called Place de General de Gaulle, which was this huuuuuuuugesquare surrounded by amazing buildings and a big statue/fountain in the center. It was a gorgeous day with blue skies and sun and warmth (imagine that!), so we sat outside. There were musicians playing in the middle of the square. Even though I had the usual “mixte” (ham and cheese on a baguette) and water, I had a wonderful lunch.

Then we bounced up to the tourist center for a two-hour group tour. Not so fun, right? Wrong. The little French lady who gave us the tour was so adorable. I even took a picture of her. She started out speaking English with possibly the strongest French accent ever, and she spit all the time, trying to get the English words out. But eventually we admitted that we spoke French, so she switched over. We went all over and she explained little stories about different buildings, which was cool, and she showed us “the important stuff.” I really enjoyed that, which is weird because I hate group visits. I think it was that lady. She was the cutest, so she made my day. I was just laughing (quietly, of course) at what she was saying all day. Ohhhh boy.

We then had another two hours to explore, so we went up to EuroLille, which is this big modern mall. I went in and saw the architecture, which was my plan because it’s really modernized in the midst of this really old city, and then I left. I don’t like malls in the States, I’m not wasting my time in malls here. If someone gave me a few hundred euros, then maybe I would have checked it out. But since no one did, and a lady grabbed my… ahem… rear-end in the bathroom, I was OUTTA THERE.

I was walking from the mall back to the square, past the town theatre (a huge, beautiful building, of course), which seemed to be the hang out for all of the gypsy kids and people. And no, they didn’t rob me, and no, they didn’t pull a little scam on me. They were minding their own business… with drums.

So, I was walking along, looking at them sitting on the steps, when all of a sudden something bad happened. And I saw it in slow motion and there was nothing I could do. A dog on the top step walked up behind an unsuspecting man and I thought, “Oh no!” Then the dog lifted his leg… right on the man’s back.

Yup. The dog took a leak on the gypsy’s back. AND he didn’t even know it. So I suppose that later he was wondering where that pee-pee smell was coming from. I could have told him. As if that isn’t bad enough, two seconds later, a little dog two feet away from the big dog was taking a little orange doggie poo-poo. That was it. I gagged and I almost threw up right then and there to add to the mess on the steps where everyone was sitting. The vision of the beautiful city of Lilles was fading before my very eyes. But I recomposed myself and enjoyed the rest of my time there. I took over a roll of film in Lilles, so you can see it all!

I passed out at 11 that night. Come to think of it, I passed out at 11 all weekend long! Sunday I woke up and did lots of homework. Yeah, love that. Then at 2, I met up with the Hawaii girls and we went back to Montmartre to look around and take a couple pictures. We went up to Sacre Coeur– the big white church around the artsy area– and loved it!

Oh, and Bridget: we also went to the Moulin Rouge, which was an American attraction for sure. I took pictures for you of the old Moulin Rouge and the new one. There are windmills all ova’ the place! Lots of walking, but it’s beautiful. I love that area.

Then we went to the Champs-Elysees for my first time, to see a movie. We went to see “Bowling for Columbine.” I don’t know how many of you have seen it, but I think it was wonderful and I would highly recommend it. For those of you who have, though, imagine watching that movie in a foreign country. It was a unique experience. Really, really cool though. Just weird.

Before the movie started, I was talking to this man next to me, who heard us speaking English and wanted to know if we were American. I explained why we were here and all that jazz (in French) and he was really interested (not as an American hater psycho… a nice guy wondering why we were in Paris).

When the movie was over, my mind was a-jumble. As those of you who have seen it know, it gives you a lot to think about. And when it ends, you don’t know what you are thinking… or I didn’t. I was trying to digest it all and sort my thoughts (I love movies like that) and the man next to me immediately asked for my opinion as an American as soon as it was over. I didn’t even know what I thought, and I was trying to explain in French and it was kind of surreal.

I just loved that movie. It really makes you think. And we were the only Americans in there, so in certain parts, we were laughing hysterically and NO ONE else was laughing because some things just don’t translate well… like, oh say, South Park. Anyways, that was a really cool experience that I could not have had in the States and I’m grateful I did. And I’m grateful I didn’t see the Ring– it wouldn’t have been the same.

That was my weekend. A very good one, I must say. It was fun. Tonight I am going out to dinner with Rob and Joan, who are in town to visit Ian, of course, so I’m very much looking forward to seeing them in the great city of lights!! AND tomorrow I have a twenty-minute speech in French in grammar class. Dr. Nelson’s COM123 (speech) class at BAMAprepared me as much as possible, but we never even had to give a twenty-minute speech in English, soooooo if I never send any more emails after tomorrow, you’ll know it didn’t go well.

I love my life.

I hope you’re all well. I love you and miss you. Hugs and kisses!

Friday, February 21, 2003: Funk and Fondue.

Helllloooooo across the pond:

Well, things are still rollin’ here. It was a relatively normal week, you know with class and all, but there were a few fun highlights that I will tell you about to hold you all over the weekend.

Oh, first I want to clear something up, because it has been brought to my attention that I never explained this and a few peeps have been confused. I am in Paris with an organization called “ACCENT” that brings groups of kids over from various parts of the States. They run programs to Paris, Florence, Madrid and somewhere else. I didn’t like the Alabama program to France, so I went through the University of Colorado- Denver’s partner program with ACCENT. So I am a “Colorado Kid” technically, despite the fact that I have never been there. HAHA.

Some of my classes are at ACCENT, through their staff, and that is where I send emails and see the 2 skillion kids ACCENT has brought over. My other classes are at the University of Paris- Sorbonne. So, there are programs here not only from Colorado, but also from San Francisco (most of my friends are in that program because we live in the same residence), and Hawaii (also my friends), Milwaukee (cool kids) and Madison, WI (just got here, seem cool). So when I talk about the “Hawaii girls” or the “San Francisco peeps,” that is what I’m referring to. Anyways… hope that answers the confusion…

I’ve been taking it easy this week because my cold-illness is on its way out the back door and frankly, I don’t want to invite it back in! So lots of dorm chill time. But I did see the ballet again on Monday, which was just as beautiful and inspiring as the first time. On Tuesday night, we went over near the Republique to a little restaurant/bar called Bouchon. We went to just hang out, not party. So I tried Sangria, and I like it. I ran out of money there… hence the quiet remainder of the week. BUT we were sitting there in this really neat place, having fun chatting and toasting in Spanish (American friends, Spanish toasts… what am I here for, anyway?) and our table was sort of near the back because we were seven people. All of a sudden, two doors fly open with a bang and we are blinded by strobe lights and a beat deep in our guts. Ok, it wasn’t that dramatic.

But doors did fly open, strobe lights were going and it was a night club with house music. But I don’t know where the hell it came from nor all the people inside and streaming out into the restaurant. Curiosity killed the cat and we decided to go check it out.

I felt like a nun walking into an orgy. Not that an orgy was going on, but I was in such a chilled out mood and dressed like a scrub, and this place was bumping and funky and just whoa. That’s all I can say. Whoa. I felt like people were staring at us and I was staring at them and the place, and trying to soak it all in, so we didn’t stay long. Just checked it out and went. Plus, we hadn’t paid the waitress back in the restaurant yet and she was flipping out when we came out, thinking that we had left. I tipped her to calm her nerves, even though you don’t have to tip here. I know, I’m a saint.

Last night was fantastic. I was super excited about it beforehand and it was all it was cracked up to be. It was a fondue dinner arranged by ACCENT, where they rented out this little restaurant in Montmartre called “Le Refuge du Fondu,” or something like that. Apparently it is quite a popular spot, despite its small size, and I loved it. There were about 25 of us and we had to climb over the tables to get to our seats, which was a hoot.

They brought an aperitif (before dinner drink), which was sweet’n'tasty, but I don’t know what it was. Then entrees (hors d’oeuvres in the U.S.), like olives and cheese and pepperoni-things and some spicy potato thing. THEN the real deal. They brought out meat in oil fondue and bread in cheese fondue. For those who don’t know what fondue is, you dip the raw meat and potatoes in the oil to cook them, and dip the bread in the cheese and eat it. We were borderline ravenous. It was really funny.

They served wine in baby bottles, which cracked me up. The waiter had a little fire in his pants for my Hawaii girl, Lindsay, so he was constantly at our table flirting with her and she is just learning French, which always makes things hilarious. I felt like I was laughing non-stop for two hours. Just a tiny place with amazing food. Mmmmm, I am in France.

Oh, and I can’t forget the canned fruit dessert; silly me! But yeah, that was one of the most fun things I have done so far, because I love fondue, and it was so delicious and we just had a great time. Lots of pictures were snapped there!

Tomorrow I have a day-trip to Lilles, France, so that should be nice to get out of the city for a day and check out a little town out in France. It is supposed to be gorgeous, so I am really looking forward to it!

The weather this week has been to die for. Bright blue skies and sunny. The beginning of the week was chilly, but today it is almost warm. It’s so exciting; maybe spring is coming! Or maybe it’s teasing me, and I’m gonna want to die when it goes back to the arctic temperatures it was previously at! I know, Vermont, you have no sympathy.

So this one isn’t too long– congratulations (not sure to who)– but time for me to go learn some more grammar and be the teacher’s pet: no one answers questions in class, and if the teacher asks a question and I know the answer, and the room is silent, it’s soo annoying to me. So I answer. So sue me. And yes, there is a little something brown on my nose, but it will pay off in the final exam because it is partly an oral interview with her, so poo.

Hope you are all doing really well. I miss you and love hearing your responses with what you’re doing. I laugh out loud in the computer lab and everyone looks at me. But I don’t care. Nope, I don’t.

Lots of love,
B in Paris (if you say that with a French accent, it rhymes: try it!)

Monday, February 17, 2003: Tears and Towers.

Well well well,

I hope everyone passed a good weekend… okey dokey, I just realized while typing that I just translated the French way to say that into English. Way to go. I hope you had a good weekend. Anyways, mine went well and as follows:

Friday was the first homesick day I have had. It was bound to happen and it did. I never thought that Valentine’s Day would throw me into such a tale-spin but whoa, it did. You see, I’m a little sick and I was tired, so I took a nap. And when I woke up at nine-thirty p.m., my friends had all gone to a dinner without me. So I was sad and cried for a little minute.

No offense to those related to me, but I didn’t miss my family because I will see them soon. I missed my friends because I haven’t seen them in two months and won’t until June and I thought to myself, “They wouldn’t leave without me.” Sooooo after a small pity party and a call to Ky (sister… bye bye phone card), everything was back in order and I went to bed… which is probably all I needed in the first place.

Oh and a previous comment is going to send my mommy into a tale-spin of her own, so I need to say that everyone here has gotten the cold I have in the past week. I think our bodies are sick of fighting off all of the new pollution and cold and foreignness of a new place and so we hit it. But I don’t need a doctor, mommy. I’m ok. Sniffle sniffle cough cough. Hehe.

Saturday I woke up and all of my peeps are in a different group (meaning the San Francisco group and not the Colorado group, of which I am a part) and so I was alone again. But not sad. They had gone to Versailles and I don’t go until March, which I am glad about because the damn gardens are all dead now… what’s the point of going? So I had an exploring day.

I went to the American Express office on the day of the protest. hehe. No one was there, don’t worry, and I got myself some money. Then I went to Les Halles; a section in the middle of Paris that, if I understood my art history teacher right (most likely not), then it was build ummmmm a long time ago as an exhibition. Anyways, the important part is that I went there to look around and it was so so cool. It’s really funky and modern but surrounding it are old huge ornate churches and buildings. Actually there is a big church there, but I didn’t go see what it was. It was probably important. I went toward the shopping.

I found this store for indoor decorating, like Urban Outfitters, but better. I was lovin’ it, pretending that I could buy anything there. Actually the prices were not bad at home, but I’m on France Ghetto Budget and so I bought a couple candles and some incense to have made some purchases. And to make the Chateau a little more homey (not like homey G, like comfortable). Then I went in a million more shops and looked around. Then I got my crepe sucree (a crepe with butter and sugar in it– the cheapest kind, but tasty). Finally I headed back near my house up on the “Viaduct’s Promenade Plantee.” It is this very very long planted walkway, which is great for running or taking walks. It’s very pretty and I enjoyed the view from up there because it is about oh, say, two stories above the ground. Very nice, very nice.

After that I went to FranPrix, where I made some purchases. Not that I got some, but a six-pack of Heineken here is $3, or about $4, I guess. Not bad, and I’ve been told that Corona is $1.25 for a six-pack. And wine can be purchased for $3-4 per bottle, too. Like I said, not that I’ve purchased any nor consumed any, but you know, it’s the word on the street. Heh heh heh.

AND I bought laundry detergent… and this is where it gets good. For the first time since I arrived, well, I ran out of underwear and socks, making it an emergency, so I went to do laundry. But the two washers and one dryer for the whole building (the size of… I don’t know, nevermind… a whole dorm of apartments) were being used. And I didn’t have the exact change so I said to Paul, “Forgetaboutit, I’m doing it at home in the sink.” He replied, “Are you serious?” and I replied, “Yes.” So I marched right up to my room and put the darks in the kitchen sink and the whites in the bathroom sink. I swirled them around to simulate a washing machine. Then I hand scrubbed each item to simulate the washing ladies in the Little Mermaid. Then it all stopped being fun when I had to rinse out each item by itself and I ran out of hot water. Luckily (NOT) I hadn’t taken a shower yet and it takes overnight to reheat the water, so I didn’t shower on Saturday because I made the decision to play Little House on the Prairie. Once they were all rinsed, I went to the local laundromat and put in the fifty cent piece three times and… POOF! they were not dry. But I was sick of waiting and I didn’t want to feed it anymore money, and the lack of the spin cycle on a washer meant my saturated clothes were not drying. So I put the damp clothes in the laundry sack and decorated my room with them until they dried. No biggie, right? Yeah, ask me if I’ll do that again.

Well, I will if I have to.

Saturday night, me and the Hawaii girls and all of our friends from the dorm sat around drinking cokes until about one and then went to check out a small nightspot… coffeeshop, I mean… in the Bastille called San San. It was really, really fun. It was packed with people (apparently coffee is popular these days!!?? Who knew?) and there was a DJ playing house music and the lampshades were made from drum symbols. The bartenders… I mean salespeople… had drumsticks that they would bang on the symbols from time to time to the beat. Man, one of the noisiest coffeeshops I’ve been in in a while. But I went along and danced with my friends. Great night. Good times.

Sunday I woke up feeling like a million bucks. Seriously, not sarcasm. I was really happy. I was randomly very relaxed and I was sitting at the window in my room, which is very inspiring, and it was beautiful blue skies and puffy clouds, and I told my friends Sam and Jadyn: we have to do something.

The Eiffel Tower was suggested and so we woke up everyone, told them to shower and we went. It took a while to get there but it was great and beautiful and I took pictures for Jenny Paris. We didn’t go up; we will another time.

Sunday night was another Chef Calhoun Extravaganza. The boy knows how to cook, what can I say? Last night’s miracle was duck with (I can’t remember the word… not orange, but something like it) sauce, and roasted thyme garlic potatoes that were so good, (I’m not a big potato person, but everytime Ian cooks them, I’m all about potatoes), and caramelized onions and salad and vin. Sooo good. I’d never had duck and it was very good. Everything was. Ian is the best.

So time to get off now, but mom and dad– call either late tonight my time (11 or 12) or around 8 tomorrow night. I have the ballet again tonight, but I’ll be home by 11. CRAP! I forgot the number again. Call Ian and he will give it to you. Also, I checked out hotels, so just call. I have stuffs to tell you. Everyone else: I love you lots, miss you and hope you’re doing well.

Stay in touch.
Take care, keep it real.

P.S. The British guitar player who hung our with us’ band is called the Libertines. Famous, I guess. I don’t know!?

Friday, February 14, 2003: PDA, Chateau’s and Anti-War Demonstrations.

…I don’t remember what we’re on… five maybe?

Happy Single Awareness Day! Hey I have an idea: How’s about I go to the city of love and spend Valentine’s Day by my damn self? How’s that, huh? Yup, I’m that cynical love girl right now. I was walking down the street with my friend Paul last night and I was like WOULD EVERYONE STOP BEING IN LOVE?????!!!!! HEY YOU, STOP KISSING! HEY YOU, HANDS TO YOURSELF!!! OK, YOU TWO WHO CAN BARELY WALK (age, not disability) CANNOT BE MAKING OUT IN THE BUS! Paul was like, welcome to Paris, bonehead. I think I will make him be my valentine so I don’t feel like such a loser. I don’t think he knows it’s Valentine’s Day. He will in fifteen minutes!

So even though I try to do these mass mail things more often to make them shorter, they are still a mile long because everytime I think things will chill, something hits the fan. Luckily, as of late, it has been excellent excitement, not stressful excitement. 

So I am a sneaky like a little weasel snake and although I will be attending the Ballet next Monday, another group went on this past Wednesday. And most of my friends are in the group that attended Wednesday. And one of them, Dennis, absolutely was not going to go to the ballet. So I asked if he was crazy… then I asked if I could have his ticket and go twice. He was like, “sure,” so I went. 

First of all, it was fun to get dressed up and go. For although I can’t do the pajama pants thing here (like in BAMA where I think wearing clothes to class is sooo passe) and I always look normal, I don’t ever get all bling bling, so that was fun. Second of all, the Opera Garnier, which is where I saw the ballet, is breathtakingly gorgeous. I know I will be frustrated when I see the pictures because they won’t capture it, but it’s in my brain and it better stay there. Murals on the ceilings and great staircases and everything is gold and iron and whoa mama. Can they just move the ballerina’s out and make that my home? Pwease? Third of all, the ballet. Well, I found that not a lot of people feel the same way I do about the ballet. Like, they won’t go twice and wouldn’t want to. They “appreciate it.” I LOVED IT. My eyes were glued the whole time. It was so beautiful. There were three scenes with… you guessed it; two intermissions where you could walk around and look at the Opera or get some champagne (cheapo Bri… drank nothing) or Coca or ice cream or whatever nourishment suits your fancy at the ole Ballet. Oh and a huge… and I mean huge chandelier hangs in the middle of the theatre part and a big orchestra plays along. I can’t wait to go back Monday. I’m a lucky chick.

So pop quiz: what was I worried about last time? Answer: housing. So I went to the meeting and they asked me if I wanted to double up in a room with someone else and they would give me 600 euros (about the same as 600 dollars). And get this: I said no. That’s right, I said no. Because people are coming and I want my space and there isn’t enough hot water for two showers. So in a nutshell, I’m greedy. I know Kyla is cursing me right now, saying “You a**hole, take the money.” But I’m not a squirrel like Ky, so I didn’t. ANNNNNNNNYWAYS it gets better in one second. So I had a small heart attack before that meeting, got all worked up when it was nothing. So the next day, they asked me to meet with them again about housing and I was annoyed. You see, the problem is that if someone didn’t double, my friends Abby and Kelly would have to move out. And I didn’t want that, but I didn’t want a double. So Paul and his friend Ben were going to double. Then I had the second meeting the next day and they told me that someone else (two girls) were going to double but in that case, they needed my room. I was like, “ohhh great.” They asked if I would switch to a single. I said, “let me see the rooms and then I’ll decide.” Way to bargain, huh? I really laid the smack down. So I went and the first one was a skanky little room but it was next to my friend. But her boyfriend visits on weekends, so I don’t think I want to live right next door. Ahem. The second choice was… oh my God, I can hardly talk about it, I get so choked up with emotion… well it was the one I chose and agreed to switch. First I asked if they would pay me and they said no, but I could have flowers. But listen to the room. It has been dubbed by my friends “the Chateau,” although the sign I made for the door says “Welcome to the Presidential Penthouse Suite.” My new room is amazing. I switched and re-moved in within an hour and a half. Oh the glory. Ok I’ll describe it. There is a hallway when you walk in with a huge closet on the left (I forget I’m speaking to Americans… ok it’s normal-sized, but for here, it’s massive) with shelves AND a hanging part. Then straight ahead is the bathroom, which is also massive (repeat the stuff in parentheses again). Like you could wheel a wheelchair into that baby… I am going to throw a party in there. Hehehe. And you don’t have to be a contortionist to climb into it. Then at the end of the hallway to the left of the bathroom is a humongous room with a futon/bed on the left, a desk with drawers, a bookshelf and then a dining area with a counter and two stools and the kitchen with the same stuff as the other kitchen. There is even a peephole in the door so I can see who’s ringing my bell. There are three huge windows that look out over the roofline of Paris and way in the distance, I an see the tippity top of the Eiffel Tower when it’s clear. Oh my God, you guys, I can’t even explain how exciting this is. I feel like the top dog in the heap because space is such a luxury here and I have so much of it. I feel soooooooo lucky! The only problem is that a director lives on my floor, so we can’t be too loud, which stinks because everyone could fit in there but we would have to be meditating or doing yoga or doing something quiet or else he yells at us.

So basically, last night we hung out in the Chateau all night  and my friend Sam played guitar for us (already got yelled at– first night there, way to go, keep up the good work). It was great. OHHH and this means a new phone number too, which I forgot today but I will send on Monday. (So mommy and daddy, I will send it Monday… if you call the old number they will say I’m not there– don’t freak out). Or you can call Accent and ask for my new number for apartment 70 in the Daumesnil residence. I’m not even joking though, it’s so VIP. The only thing is that it’s on the seventh floor, removed from everyone else and since Bridget has me trained to never be alone, I get lonely up there, but seeing as it is the Chateau, people come to see. Oh, I know, I’ll start charging a euro to chill in the Chateau. Just kidding. Alright, I will stop gushing now and tell about today because…

Jennifer Brennan, you are in big trouble. Never ever ever ever tell Amelda that she can get PUMA’s for 30 bucks when that is in no way possible. I finally found the PUMA store today and maybe if I sell my soul to the devil can I get a pair of sneaks for 30 bucks. If I want my soul, I can pay 80-120, like the rest of the world. I can’t decide if I want them that bad. (Translation for Mom: don’t worry, I won’t buy more shoes… winky wink). I went there after my art history visits this mornign, which was at the Musee d’Orsay: my favorite. I am an impressionist gal myself so I really enjoy it there. Plus, it isn’t too overwhelming and the building itself is incredibly pretty. It used to be a train station and it’s very ornate and grandious (I don’t know how to spell that in English). Mucho fun. But now I’m going to grammar class, which I have every day across town way the hell away from my house. But luckily, my friends are in there with me, so the travel time is fun, not torture. (If you don’t count the sewer stink). Mkay, love you all lots and keep staying in touch. I love to hear what you are doing!! Ky, I hope you are feeling better. Everyone send Ky a get well note at starkross@hotmail or else you’re dead. Ky is my sister for those of you in the peanut gallery who weren’t paying attention. Back to school… back to school…

lots of love.
miss you.
keep it real.

P.S. Guess what? Excitement on the international front. The director of the program just came in to tell us that there is going to be a huge huge huge anti-war demonstration that is marching across the city tomorrow and the and the consulate has instructed us Americans to stay the hell away from it. So I guess I won’t be chilling in the Bastille area tomorrow! I repeat for Dad, I said I won’t go. I’m not going. I won’t be at the demonstration. I’m not in danger. Peace.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003: Orange Doggie Poo-poo and Ed L’Epicier.

Et bonjour mes amis,

Maintenant, apres avoir habiter ici pendant presque deux semaines, je parle le francais courrament. Je ne parlerai jamais l’anglais apres que je retourne aux Etats-Unis…

Just kidding… deep breath… I am not writing the whole email in French. But I am sitting here laughing thinking that some of you are having heart attacks now, thinking that I was going to. Then again, I always think I’m funny, so perhaps no one else is amused.

I’m trying a new method of mass-mail, where I write not just once every millennium, making the emails about 30,000 gigabytes. (I don’t speak computer… just french…). So I have been taking it easy in the past few days, relaxing in the dorm getting to know my fellow peeps and doing my kilos of homework. (Note to grammar teacher: this is not high school, and therefore the 2 hours of exercises every night are not completely necessary!) I haven’t been out exploring the city as much this week. I’m on hiatus. Perhaps next week or tomorrow. 

I would, however, like to take a moment and comment on the (few) negatives I have encountered so far living in Paris. You see, I know that so far I have sent shiny, happy emails, where nothing in Paris ever goes wrong. That has been a little bit of a lie. Or maybe I’ve just woken up and I smelled the coffee… or the… well…

It smells here. It really does, and I can’t escape it. Now I know a great deal of you are sitting there being a know-it-all, thinking, “I warned you about those stinky frenchies.” You are wrong. I am not talking about body odor because the french are just as aware of deodorant as we are. And although there are some stinky peeps here and there who choose not to use it, it’s not that. I would say that the overall odor is more a mix of pollution to the nth degree and ahem, excretion. 

Sorry, but it’s true and if I have to smell it, you have to imagine it. The worst is in the metro. I feel like I’m trapped in a mole’s worst nightmare every time I ride the damn metro and that is at least a million times a day. I don’t know who is doing it; it’s a mystery because I never see anyone peeing in public BUT it’s there. Sitting on the ground everywhere. Ugh. Maybe there is a mad rush in the middle of the night to pee on the grounds of the metro and in the streets of Paris, I don’t know. But man, just use the toilette like a human!

And there is also no doggie poo-poo clean up here. It’s a free-for-all, bring your dog wherever you want and let him do whatever he wants. SO you guessed it; Landmine City. After this detail, I won’t go into any more details about doggie poo-poo, but we’ve all noticed it and we (meaning the people I know here) just don’t understand it. The doggie poo-poo is an amazing shade of bright orange. Now what in the hell can you feed your dog to get a result like that? Actually, I don’t want to know. But I would like the Red Cross and the Salvation Army to make an emergency stop in Paris and hand out Pooper Scoopers merely for my walking convenience. 

Next are the people. As my teacher said yesterday, Paris is not France. Parisians are not your typical French people. They are just as the stereotype says. They are rude and mean and they don’t like to help you. Now if you go into a nice shop somewhere, and you are obviously going to buy something, AND you have not forgotten to politely greet the vendeur when you enter the store, they might be nice. Otherwise, forgetaboutit. And there are the nice little cafes here and there, where the lady is sweet and she likes to talk to you and help you. But they’re rare. All I can say is ToTo, we’re not in Alabama anymore. No one gives two pence if I come or go, survive or perish. Sounds harsh, but it’s true. 

I’ll give you two examples:

1.) I am going to school at the Sorbonne. And the way it works here is that the secretaries are all state workers, so they aren’t there by choice. So to them, every day of their life is the worst day of their life, and it’s YOUR damn fault. So while the professeurs are nice and helpful and caring, the other people that you absolutely need to get yourself started here thrive on your misery. I swear. They made my friend cry while she was simply trying to pick up a card with a class assignment. It’s ridiculous. They yell at you in French and mumble and grumble to themselves… just horrible. So the trick is to talk back. Then they shut up. But you have to talk back in French… thus the trick. Actually, the real defense is to just ignore them, not let them get to you and act like they don’t matter to you. That’s what I did and I’m not crying, am I? Sucks to be that way, but it is. You being nice does not make them be nice. Welcome to Real World Paris. 

2.) I had my groceries stolen while in line in the grocery store. Not all my groceries, actually just A grocery, but I’m still annoyed by it. I guess it’s my fault, because I went to the ghetto grocery store. But I’m a poor student, what can I say? The lines move very fast at the ghetto grocery store and you have to bag your own groceries (not the problem), ,soooo you are trying to pay and bag your groceries before they send the next guy’s groceries flying down the line. So I was paying for mine, which were next to the girl in front of mine’s groceries. Then I went to bag them and my huge water bottle (I buy big big big water bottles just to have some french water in my room, even though the tap is fine) was not there. This means the girl in front of me, either by accident or slyly on purpose, took my water. So I tried to tell the cash register lady and she ignored me. After saying “Pardon, Madame?!” for the millionth time to no avail… maybe she’s deaf… I called the security guard over. I explained to him that my water was taken, showed him my receipt and all of my things with no water bottle in it and he told me to go buy another. Too bad for me. 

Now here is the irony: they have a security guard for what purpose? First of all, he didn’t stop the water bottle thief and second of all, when I need help and I approach him, he says too bad for me and does nothing to make the problem better. What is wrong with these people? I’m going to tell the owner of “Ed L’Epicier” that his security guard isn’t worth a damn. I’m boycotting “Ed.”

So that’s it. The stink and the people. And I’m about to meet with the director of my program about my housing… it sounds like there is a problem with that, so I will update you later about that potential disaster. Alright, off to that meeting! I love you all and miss you. Oh, and don’t worry, I still love it here. I just thought I should enlighten you that not all is rosy is gaie Paris… just most of it.

Hugs n kisses.

Sunday, February 9, 2003: Why sleep?

Why hellllo my American people!

I have been very tired since the end of last week, so I didn’t think I would have much to say for this mass email, but boy was I wrong. You see, it’s kind of like when one takes a vacation. After a week, or the duration of your vacation, you are just exhausted and ready to go home and rest on the couch with some good ole American television. I have recently hit that point, but I can’t relax, I have too much to do. And furthermore, I exacerbate the situation with a social schedule, which I will describe later.

The end of last week was the craziest part as school gets into swing. I began classes, which are very interesting, but hard to last for two hours in French without brain pain. And to make it worse, each class is on a different corner of the universe. Seriously, a long metro or bus ride (or a hell of a walk) from one to another. Mon dieu… but I persevere and get it all done at the sacrifice of my body and definitely my mind. I don’t remember the last time I wrote and what I described to you… much is melted together in my head… but I will tell you about the weekend, because that will be enough to digest.

Actually, I lied. I’m going to tell a bit about each class first and then move on to the good stuff. So pay attention through this potentially boring part. First, I have a conversation class on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8:30 in the morning. That’s right. 8:30: an hour at which I don’t function well and sadly, I have already been late to class. But fortunately, my teacher is happy and chipper at that time of day, so she greeted me with a friendly “Bonjour!” despite the faux pas. (Late to class= very, very bad in France. Not to say it’s encouraged in America, but I would rather break the rules in the States than here). 

I have art history on Wednesday mornings at 9. I was very excited about this class, but it has been the most frustrating for a couple reasons. A.) It is entirely taught in French (no one ever speaks English to me in any class EVER EVER EVER) and I don’t have a vocabulary for art history so I don’t understand, and it moves at the speed of light, so you can’t zone out ever. One second of “mmm, I wish I had a croissant right now” and … BOOM!… there was the most important sentence she will say all year and it passed me by. And B.) We have visits every Friday at 10:30 to museums. This is amazing to actually see the painting in front of you that you are learning about. But once again, I am frustrated because the size of the museum overwhelms me and stresses me out. You could spend a week in some museums and a month in others to see it all.

Thirdly, I have a grammar class, which I enjoy. But the 4 hours of homework is not my friend. Not at all. I will have learned a whole lot by the time I step foot back in the States, though, I can tell you that. 

But now to the good stuff. So the end of the week I was immensely tired. I can’t even explain it to you. I’m talking mono tired. So not too much was happening for a while. I was chilling with the people in my dorm. Then Friday night rolled around and great things happened.

David rolled into town and I gave him a ring, and he graciously invited me to dinner. It was incredible. To say the least. We went to a brasserie, which is like a cafe on steroids and then some. Amazing service… all men in tux-like outfits who are very attentive to your needs. I had the following: Champagne, french onion soup, Champagne, lobster, Champagne, creme brulee and coffee. Everything was incredibly good and David is the most wonderful person for taking me out. So I felt good when I left there and I got back to my dorm ready to go out. So I did. HAHA.

A group of friends and myself went out to an Irish pub called McBrides. We enjoyed ourselves there (they spoke English and the bartenders eventually were dancing on the bar and singing karaoke Irish songs) and left and went to another bar. So we had fun and decided to call it a night. So we took a cab home… not expensive within town… and it was about 4:30 a.m. We all continued to hang out at the dorm and we had an “excursion” on Saturday morning with the exchange group for which we had to get up at 9:30 a.m. So in the intelligent state that we were in, we thought we would feel better if we just didn’t sleep. So we didn’t. I repeat: I didn’t sleep Friday night. I stayed up talking to my peeps, listening to music, listening to some guy in a famous British band (**Authors note** it was the Libertines) jam for us (a girl I know is a groupie, so he was chillin) and laid there wondering how I could be so stupid as to remain awake all night. But I did it and got in the shower at nine am and on the bus at ten.

We went to Chartres, which is a small town outside of Paris, where there is one of the oldest, most ornate chruches in the world. It’s breathtaking. The whole town was small but quaint and just fantastic, really. Even with no sleep. I loved it and it was a welcome slowing-of-the-pace-of-life of Paris, which is at the heart attack level. People practically run from place to place. When I got home, I was borderline dead, so I took a two-hour nap.

Ian came over at 9:30 and we enjoyed some french beverages before going to a jazz bar. The band was on a break and I thought they weren’t there, and drinks were beyond expensive (it was the China Club), so we left. Needless to say, I did not last very long last night. In bed by 2.

I slept til 11 this mornign and Ian met me once again to go to a nearby market. It is actually one of the biggest, which is called Place d’Aligre. We got the ingredients for tonight’s dinner and about 300 oranges for me… I couldn’t understand the guy so I did what he said… which was buy 3 kilos of clementines. Oh la la. I hope I enjoy vitamin C.

Then I spent the morning doing homework and the afternoon and the early evening.

Then I subwayed my way to Ian’s quaint Parisian flat, where he served yet another fantastic dinner. Just a master, I must say. He made fish, pan-fried, and creamed leeks and garlic parsley potatoes and salad and bread and I just can’t explain. It’s so good. (As you can tell, food is my life, I survive from one Sunday to the next). He told me a funny story which BAMA will appreciate. He saw a couple today with his and hers mullets. They even flared out in the back. Impressive, huh? I wish I saw them. I really do.

So I think that’s all for now. France continues to be great. The only thing is that more and more I am understanding that I am in a different culture. I knew I was, I’m not an egg short of a dozen, but for example: tonight it was grating my nerves that every damn word everywhere was in French. I just wanted to see an English sentence. But I still love it.

Keep the news coming… I miss you and love you and I will write more soon when I have more to update. (This is long and THANK YOU IAN! I really appreciate it). I need to get on the subway before it is too late at night for a gal like me to be on the subway. So have a great week… keep it real.

Lotsa love.

Wednesday, February 5, 2003: Marriage Proposals and Acclimation.

Good Morning America!

It’s about 5:30 in the morning for you, so maybe you will wake up to this sunny little email. I’ve been awake for 3 hours already. heh heh heh. So each day definitely gets better here. On Monday, I had a placement test for a grammar class, which was a real kick in the pants. I thought I was on easy street, because I could understand the lady very well and the written part was so so… ok. BUT THEN they sprung a little one-on-one chat with a real live frenchie. Yeah, so the room was loud and I practically put my ear in his mouth so I could hear him and I totally choked. I might as well have replied to his questions in Brianna German. (Meaning I don’t speak it, meaning gibberish). But no big deal, I go to get the results of that today and see what niveau (level) of class I was placed in. They do it from A-D, with D being the lowest. 

Later that day, me and a couple gals I met from Hawaii went to check out the rue de Rivoli, where one can find many americaines, because there is a lot of shopping there and the January sales are wrapping up. (I know it’s February, but if they want to keep things on sale, I won’t point out that January is over!). I didn’t buy anything, just walked around window shopping. There was a big display-type-thing on the side of one of the buildings that was gorgeous. In a sense that it had been decorated very colorfully and with golds and it is hard to explain, but as I read it, it said, “Non a la guerre” which is an anti-war message. The Jungle Book is coming back out here in ole Paris, and there are pictures of the monkey from J.B. in the subway. One more than one of the monkey’s faces, people have written “Bush,” and on one of them; “Bush le diable,” which means Bush the devil. Soooo people’s sentiments are displayed in ways like that, which amuse me. (On the face of the Jungle Book monkey??? Way to make a statement mister…) But I have only encountered people who are totally amused and want to talk to an American, not people who spit at me or give me a mean look or something. So for those of you who were worried, people don’t like Bush, but on an individual level, they don’t care particularly if you are an American.

Annnnnnnnnnnways, yesterday was a great, really really fun day. In the morning, I had my first french conversation class. (Waking up was not fun, though, because I was dreaming that I was at home with my family and the Isaacson’s and I woke up and I was like ummmm, this is NOT my house or front yard…hmmmm). I liked the class because I could clearly understand the professor, but two hours straight of french in the ear… that will take some getting used to. The problem is that if you zone out for two seconds, it doesn’t just sink into your ear, like in BAMA, because since it’s all in French, I have to pay attention to every word to get it. But in conversation, she babied us a little, so that was fine for the first day! Fo’ Sho’! Also, it will be great for getting used to speaking French here with everyday ease. So that was good.

Then I went and got a ticket for the Roots concert in April. Then I met up with my friends to go back to the rue Rivoli to go back to H&M which is soooo cheap here, with such cute stuff. But it’s not in the ole budget, so I just looked once again. What is in the budget, but I couldn’t find, were Puma’s (Mom, you didn’t hear that) at the PUMA store. (Jen, where is it? I walked rue Rivoli ten times and everyone said it was “right down there,” but it’s not…). Couldn’t find it. Oh well, I have four months.

But then we went to the Centre Pompidou, which of course is open Monday, Wednesday, Thursday… not Tuesday, when I went. So we did the touristy thing in the area. I got a marriage proposal from the postcard store owner. So if I want a life in the postcard business, I have already hooked it up. I declined.

Then we went to this secondhand store, where I got a hat. But I didn’t have enough money for the hat. So I made a deal with the store owner that I would bring back another seven bucks later. **Note to self** stay away from second hand store. I’m going to hell, but he was trying to rip me off anyway! So now I ripped him off. Hehe. The perks of being an American girl– hate to say it, but it’s true. Like I’m dumb enough to bring… ok, enough about that.

Then we were beat (you walk around so much here and you don’t realize how tiring it is!). I came back to my dorm so tired and my other friends were like, “Want to come skating at the Hotel de Ville (City Hall)?” Since I don’t like missing anything, I was like YEAH! even though, as it was, I could barely walk. So that was incredibly fun. It was gorgeous, with fake trees sprayed white/silver. Problem: I can’t skate. But I went out and was scooting along and doing alright. Then I got a little better and a little better and I could actually pick up some speed. So I was confident, cruising along, when BAM! I caught a toe edge and hit my face flat. My new hat went flying and I was like “Oh, shit!” as I heard nine hundred Parisians say “Ohhhhhhhhh.” Ok, I know I fell, no need for you to ohhhhhhh me. But some nice one helped me up and I hobbled to the edge because it knocked the breath out of me (aka I couldn’t breath) and I bammed my knee (couldn’t move) and did something funky to my hand.

Eventually, in a couple minutes, I could breath and I went on my merry skating way for another hour. So now I have a not-fully-operative knee and a swollen right hand that doesn’t like to write, type, brush teeth, you know, the usual. I didn’t care though, because we had a great time. I slept like a log last night and today I am so dead– I think I might lay low today, so Mom and Dad, today you should call between 6-8 my time.

I had a French art history class this morning, which I will like a lot because we have visits at the museums and stuff. But it was very overwhelming, because it was entirely in French and I don’t have an art history vocabulary so it was hard to follow and understand. I got lost on more than one occasion, lemme tell you. So that will be a challenge for sure. But hopefully I will really learn a lot.

But thanks to all of you who have been writing, I like getting news from home. I am bout to try to reply to as many as possible. That’s really sad about the Columbia, but the thing is that here, there is no national sense of grief so it seems rather detached. Bridge, tell Rex that I’m sorry– I thought of him immediately! (And mom and pop send condolences to me, to you, to him… whoa). For those who were asking, anyone who comes here can stay with me. No one cares who with me into or out of the dorm= they don’t pay attention. (You can’t get in without me, but it’s ok if I let you in). So I hope you all have a wonderful day! I love you and I think of you often. Of course, stay in touch! Mwah!

Lots of french love.