Thoughts from September 27 to October 8, 2007

Thursday, September 27, 2007

A summary of my life since arriving in Paris:

(1) Arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport after long, long, flight. Was greeting by my Tante Nicole, who gave Sebastian and I RER (train) tickets and pointed us towards the Cité Universitaire where we would be living for the first ten days. Seb and I lugged our heavy, cumbersome luggage to the Maison des Etudiants Canadiens and got settled in our rooms. I felt like shit, but after a nap and a shower I went to find Seb who was with Matt and Erin who were chilling with some wine. That’s how I came to meet my present group of friends.

My room at the Canadian House

(2) The first few days we did a lot of walking around Paris, eating out at random restaurants, and drinking cheap red wine. I got the chance to visit the Musée Rodin, go on a boat tour of the Seine, and explore Paris. A lot of the outings were planned by MICEFA.

Me sightseeing

(3) The intensive French class has already finished. I was originally placed in the intermediate strong class, but a few of us found it way too easy so we quickly switched into the advanced class. It was alright; I learned some things. The best part is that I get school credits for it!

(4) I went through the trials and tribulations of finding a place to live. I thought it would be easier that it was, but I am happy to be where I am now, in my little apartment in Gentilly.
Now to get to more recent events. Last night I threw a little dinner party with Alan, Erin, and Jared. I made a whole chicken, potatoes, and salad and we had some chocolate cake I bought at a local bakery for dessert. We had a lot of fun and very squished. You see, I only have three chairs, so we had to double up a bit. As it turns out Erin didn’t go to Spain like I thought she had because she got a stomach flu.

The conversation at the party turned to the dark side of living in Paris. Specifically, the negative experiences Alan and I both had the metro today. Alan got hit by a man running the catch the métro, getting thrown against the side of the métro car and falling to the ground, unconscious and bleeding. And no one helped him. No one helped him up. No one asked him if he was ok. Not the guy who hit him, nor anyone else who was there. He was lying on the ground bleeding for God’s sake. It’s truly scary to think that I live in a city where you could get seriously hurt and not even a decent pedestrian will lend a hand. My bad experience occurred in a crowded métro car where this old man started rubbing into me. I was freaking out internally because I couldn’t move anywhere and he was doing it harder and harder. He wasn’t even looking at me or anything; he was just staring off in another direction while driving his crotch into my thigh. Well, when the métro stopped a few people got off and I took the opportunity to move as far away from him as possible. I wasn’t too shaken by the incident, as it’s something that happens everyday I’m sure, but I still had the gross feeling of old man dick on my leg for most of the day. Yuck.

October 1, 2007

So I have a head cold. Which means that I’m all congested and feel like crap in general. Luckily I went to a pharmacy and got some nasal spray and pills that have like speed or something in them and I feel much better now. I thought today was going to be the first day of classes, but as it turns out my French cinema and literature class starts next week, as do all my art history classes. The art history course guide I got said that classes begin on October 1st; I only found out that they actually begin next week when I went to the building and overheard that because of construction, lectures would be starting on the 8th. I don’t know how I was supposed to know that without making that trip.

So how did I get sick, you ask? Well, I believe I caught a virus from Matt, who I saw on Saturday when he, Erin, and I went to see the broadway musical Cabaret. I’d seen the Liza Minelli film adaptation several years ago, and the stage production was quite different. It was all in French, of course, but I understood most of it (probably because I had seen the movie). Erin was drooling over the gorgeous female dancers who were wearing nothing but negligés and garters for the whole play, while Matt was smitten with the homoerotic emcee. I loved it the whole production, and I love that I did something very cultural and cool with two people I like hanging out with. One downside to the evening: my beautiful new black patent-leather, stacked-heel five-inch high pumps nearly killed me. They are what I like to call taxi shoes (ie. not meant for walking).

Here is a number from Cabaret performed on a French TV show.

On Sunday I went to an exhibit with Sebastian called Bêtes et Hommes. I’d seen the exhibit advertised all over the métro stations and whatnot, so I decided that since there’s nothing else to do on Sundays, why not check it out. The exhibit was...weird. I think the language barrier prevented me from really understanding what the organizers were trying to communicate. There were televisions playing skits about Darwin using puppets. There were cages of animals like crows, vultures, iguanas, and otters. There were strange art installations: an octopus with diamonds surrounded by ghosts, a grizzly bear humping a polar bear, a series of photographes depicting a blind woman going throught the day with her seeing-eye dog. There was scientific stuff, modern arty stuff, funny stuff, serious stuff, informative stuff. For me, the fact that there were so many different, seeming unrelated things shown at the exhibit that made it confusing for me. However, it was interesting and a fun way to kill time on a Sunday. The downside (there’s always a downside) is that that’s when I started to feel sick. Which brings us back to today. Fucking head cold. Could be worse though. Apparently everyone’s sick these days and it’s not like I’m in the hospital or anything.

October 3, 2007

Yesterday, which was a Tuesday, I neither had any classes nor anythng else to do. Tuesday being a day that most of the museums and galleries are closed, being cultural was out of the question. So I decided to do my laundry and see a movie. I’ll spare you the details of me doing the laundry except to mention that I don’t have a washing machine at my place so I have to go to the laundromat that this fortunately very close to me. The movie I decided to see was Goya’s Ghosts (Les fantômes de Goya) which was playing in English with French subtitles. It’s a movie I’ve been wanting to see for a while because not only does it star Natalie Portman, who I love, it’s also about the Spanish painter Goya, who I also love. The story is about Spain during a very tumultuous time in its history when they had the Inquisition, then the French Revolution come in, and then the return of the monarchy. Portman plays one of Goya’s models who gets taken by the Inquisition only to be tortured, raped, and kept in a dungeon for 15 years. It was a heartbreaking film, but I’m glad I saw it because I knew little to nothing of Spain’s history and Goya’s place in it beforehand, and I love learning history while being entertained. As a side note, the theatre I went to was fantastic: no ads, no previews, pitch-black, and cheap tickets.

Today I finally had a class. It’s a MICEFA class called “Grammaire du texte” that is about grammar, analyzing sentences, and understanding texts. I don’t know if it will turn out to be the most fascinating course in the world, but I know that it will be helpful because I still don’t understand a lot of the stuff I read. It’s frustrating when you read a sentence and even though you know what each word means, you still don’t get what the sentence really says. I hope this course will help with that and also help me with my written French. I think the best part of the class, other than the fact that most of my friends are in it with me (Matt, Erin, Alan, Seb) is that it’s being held at the Sorbonne, which is a very famous school in French that was established about 700 years ago. The classroom itself is a small library, although the bookshelves are all empty now. I love having classes in these ancient, beautiful buildings. It’s a refreshing change from Waterloo.

October 8, 2007

I’m twenty-three (23) years old. Does that mean I’m in my mid-twenties? Am I still a kid? 23 is overall a fairly unaventful birthday; you can’t do anything new like drinking, driving, smoking, or voting. But in my mind it seems like a scarily big number. I don’t think that I’m old at all, but as the numbers mount, the more it seems like I should be a real adult. And that’s something I don’t feel like at all.

Today was the first day I had art history classes at the Sorbonne. Real art history, in French, with real French art history students. It was pretty intense, I will tell you. I could understand maybe about 50% of what they were saying, but the other 50% was the important stuff. “A blazchmba is a type of ceiling where the arches of the roof come together in a gzbleh.” This is what the entire class sounded like to me. But the teacher was nice, and the other students seem nice too. They all were willing to help me and give me some advice and whatnot. All wished me “Bon courage” too, which is a friendly but cryptic thing to be wished. Does studying art history really take a lot of courage??

Now to describe this past weekend, my birthday weekend!

Saturday: Me and some other MICEFA students went to meet some French telecommunications students to speak English with them. I was paired with a guy named Styven who was from Gabon, Africa. He was very nice, but from my converstion with him I got the vibe that he wanted to marry me and get me knocked up. I got this impression from some of the questions/comments he made to me during our time together (in this order, but not all at once):

• Do you have any children?
• Are you married?
• Do you have a boyfriend?
• I find you very beautiful.
• If we had children, they would be a nice colour.
• Do you want to have children?
• How many children do you want to have?
• When I graduate, I want to get a woman and have children.

Anyways, like I said he was very nice and he wasn’t coming on to me (even though it seems like it from what I wrote). He just asked really odd questions, in my opinion, for someone you just met.

Saturday evening was Nuit Blanche, a night when all the metro lines are supposed to be open all night and there are cultural events throught the night all over Paris. However, because metro workers would strike if ever forced to work all night (it’s just once a year guys), only one line was open. Line 14, which is apparently completely automated. The night started with everyone watching the rugby game between France and New Zealand which no one thought France would win (if you know rugby you know the NZ All Blacks are the best team in the world). Against all odds, however, France fucking won! The entire city was going nuts! You could hear everyone cheer simultaneously, it was an awesome celebratory atmosphere. I was looking forward to seeing some of the outdoor art exhibits that had been set up at sights along line 14. But Alan and Matt took me to a bar in the Marais (a beautiful part of town that is currently the gay/Orthodox Jewish district). The bar wasn’t completely gay though, and I wound up getting quite a lot of practice on my French flirting skills (one handsome guy came up and whispered something about my eyes and gave me a little peck, so I know my flirting skills are improving). After one long island ice tea too many, the three of us wobbled home to Alan’s place to crash.

Matt, Alan, and I drunk on Nuit Blanche in front of Notre Dame

Sunday: I met up with Sebastian and Nick to check out some of the museums that are free on the first Sunday of the month. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and warm and blue skies. What a wonderful day for a birthday! The three of us went to the Musée Rodin and the Musée de Moyen Age. They were also being super-nice to me ‘cause it was my birthday, telling me I could do what I want. I threw a little party at my place afterwards with Seb, Nick, Erin, Jared, Matt and Alan. We had a lot of fun eating Chinese food, drinking wine/champagne, and playing charades. The running joke during charades was hump Sebastian, much to Seb’s sexual confusion. All my friends sang “Happy Birthday” to me in different languages all simultaneously (English, French, German, Italian, Spanish and Cantonese). Erin videotaped it so hopefully I’ll be able to post the video. Another highlight, Jared gave me a lapdance as a birthday present. It was awkward. But funny. I’ll take awkward but funny. At least I wasn’t Sebastian with people humping me all night.

I will leave a few more insights into living in Paris:

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat a loaf of Wonder bread again. I’m all about the bakery with hot-out-of-the-oven baguette now.

I’ve never been hit on more in my life since I’ve been here. Although it’s rarely with men I find attractive. Men here are more open with flirting. I’ve had a guy stop his motorcycle just to chat me up.

There is indeed quite a bit of dog poop on the sidewalks. I haven’t stepped in any yet (knocks on wood).

They don’t have any processed cheese nor blocks of orange cheddar here that I’ve seen. Only the good stuff.