So update by your Katie,
This past orientation week, we’ve been learning a lot about the history of France while being exposed to current French culture. We had a few days in Normandy which I suppose were there to orient us to France in a smaller and less chaotic place than Paris. Then we had Paris orientation with a tour guide by the name of Marie Laura. I found her much easier to listen to and more enjoyable as a whole than our previous guide—although I think he was instructed on pain of death to only speak French to us, and with our school director sitting in the seat behind him, there wasn’t much he could do. But Marie Laura understood saturation levels of the brain and attention span, and when your audience has hit one and run out of the other. So she was a lot more flexible with us as she guided the group around Paris. Normally we had two or three large events on our itineraries for the day which usually included museums, monuments, historic sites, etc.
This past orientation week, we’ve been learning a lot about the history of France while being exposed to current French culture. We had a few days in Normandy which I suppose were there to orient us to France in a smaller and less chaotic place than Paris. Then we had Paris orientation with a tour guide by the name of Marie Laura. I found her much easier to listen to and more enjoyable as a whole than our previous guide—although I think he was instructed on pain of death to only speak French to us, and with our school director sitting in the seat behind him, there wasn’t much he could do. But Marie Laura understood saturation levels of the brain and attention span, and when your audience has hit one and run out of the other. So she was a lot more flexible with us as she guided the group around Paris. Normally we had two or three large events on our itineraries for the day which usually included museums, monuments, historic sites, etc.
They were packed days and by the end of them, I thought I
would immediately fall into bed and pass out. For how tired I’ve been though,
it’s taken me a while to fall asleep. I think it’s a mixture between brain
overload and being cold. I think that’s just something I’m going to have to get
used to. It’s exceedingly strange though to think “I can’t wait until I go home
in December where I can finally be warm again.” It’s December so it’ll be
freezing, but at least the house will be warm. My poor toesies.
Anyway, so far we’ve spent a lot of
time near the River Seine, which runs through the center of the city, toward
the west. September 10th we explored Notre Dame and the Latin
Quarter, also Shakespeare and Company which is absolutely beautiful. Shelves
packed full of books, organized by genre, everything from the classics of the
previous century to new releases, books for academia and leisure. It’s
completely charming and swoon-worthy, and that’s not taking into account the
name of the place and the history behind it. And it’s full of British people so
that’s a lot of fun. There are actually a shocking number of British and
American tourists here in the city and I can’t tell if they’re just remnants of
the tourist season and the flow of English speaking people will slowly taper
away, or if this is a year round kind of flux.
Speaking of
tourists and experiences with orientation: holy cow there are a lot of Asians.
I mean a LOT of Asians. Just walking around there are a good number of them,
most of them tourists, although a few do seem to be locals. But it’s nothing
compared to the big hot-spots in Paris, like the Louvre or Versailles (we took the train to Versailles on the 13th). Our tour
guide calls the phenomenon the Asian Invasion, and pointed out that at places
where photography is not permitted, this did not seem to occur. Seemed kind of
strange to me, but in a positive vein, it’s kind of nice to realize that the
things that fascinate one culture also hold sway in others. Perhaps it
indicates that there is a shared concept of glory and beauty, and that people
everywhere can appreciate it.
It’s hard
to remember that though when cultural differences come into play, and the tiny Chinese
woman behind you seems to be trying her best to crawl on top of you to see the
Mona Lisa. That was Rachael’s experience, not mine. I stayed away from that
horde of people. I’m perfectly content to stare at sculptures and less than
renowned paintings if that means I don’t have to fight the press of
unsympathetic bodies.
A simple
piece of advice for anyone who would venture to these spots: go early. I don’t care
what it takes, set the alarm and arrive when it opens. Especially the Louvre (It was our first stop on the 12th).
Find the star attractions and see those first. Then go back and wander through
at your own pace. Also having a guide walk us through was really nice, because
she was able to offer a lot of tidbits about the paintings or the artists or
history in general, which enriched the experience.
I got
distracted again. Okay, so we saw the Notre Dame and the Musee de Cluny (also
called la Musee National du Moyen Age—medieval history/art) in the Latin
Quarter, the Louvre (general history/art) in its respective quarter, and Marais
where the infamous Bastille is located (though we didn’t venture that way—we went
into a museum that documented the Reign of Terror though and saw an actual
guillotine that actually cut people’s heads off, as it was so eagerly described
to us by our tour guide. She’s a funny lady. One of the tidbits she told us,
apparently Marie-Antoinette accidentally (or not, I’m thinking) trod on her
executioner’s toe when she was mounting the platform to be guillotined and she
apologized to him. “Oh no problem, I’m only going to cut your head off.” What made
it better is that Marie Laura (the guide) is French, but when she speaks
English, it’s with a British accent. I don’t know much about Marie-Antoinette so
maybe she really was just that polite…I guess it’s better to go out in a flare
of love than in spite. In walking around Marais, through quite a few alleyways
we found the King’s Square. Don’t know if that’s the actual name, but that’s
what I’m calling it. Victor Hugo’s house is one of the houses in the square
that make up the perimeter. At the heart is a grassy park which was lovely,
with a big statue of a man on a horse. I wanted to investigate it, but we were
late in getting to the bank to (finally!) set up our bank accounts so it was hurryhurryhurry
to the metro. Sigh.
The lady on the right (a la droite) is Marie Laura.
If I’ve
learned anything so far from this trip, it’s that royalty with a lot of money
do really weird things with even weirder motivations. Like, “hey I want to
build a house. And other people can live near me too. But they have to have the
same house as me in the same style.” They were lovely of course, but it helps
when you have wads of cash to buy all the pretty things with and smart people
to tell you how it all goes together.
Hugo’s old house is now a sort
of pseudo museum dedicated to his life and works. There are a lot of paintings
and related items to The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Fan art basically. But really
cool fan art. I took a lot of pictures of the paintings and depictions of
Esmeralda. A lot of them were beautiful, but they were also felt personal and
familiar. Thank you Disney for your bastardized version. I keep telling myself
I need to read the actual book, but I’ve heard that it’s kind of a downer…maybe
later in life I’ll get to it.
Two images of Esmeralda, one of her helping Quasimodo and the other spreading out playing cards with the goat whose name I now forget...
Over the
weekend, the little group consisting of me, Rachael, and other Katie did a fair
amount of walking without all the museums. Mostly just wandering around Paris.
For the most part, we’ve kept to the Latin quarter because when we’re not
actively looking for something, we’re usually hungry, thirsty, or have to pee
and that means a café or creperie or some other place like that. And so far,
this quarter is the only quarter with prices that anyone on a limited budget
can appreciate.
Also, I
really love crepes now. They are magical delicious deliverers of happiness and
sugar. Unless you get the more solid, savory version, which is usually called a
galette. I had one again for lunch yesterday, but it wasn’t nearly as awe
inspiring as the one that I had in Normandy. That one had everything: meat,
potatoes, cheese, leafy greens…
I kind of miss potatoes and other starchy things that aren’t
bread…
I would like everyone who knows me well to fully comprehend
the enormity of that statement.
Do you know how much bread I’ve had since arriving here?
Not a single ounce of sliced sandwich/white bread though. I’ve
had baguettes, croissants, crepes, galettes, pita, pain aux raisins (like sweet
swirled bread with raisins) and a chausson de pomme (similar to an apple
turnover) and some kind of Indian chip…but there’s been a lot and I kind of
miss a nice plate of chicken breast, with some veggies and mashed potatoes.
Yesterday
we had a leisurely, wandering day that started near Notre Dame with us
venturing to this festival thing called the Marches-Flottantes. There was
supposed to be events going on, live music and such, but when we went there, it
seemed kind of small, mostly a market for produced goods, like honey, cider,
chocolate, and the like and we were in between events. So then we figured we
might go visit the Eiffel Tower, since we’d not gone near the area at all
before. We ended up walking to the Champs Elysees, through the massive garden
that bears the same name. There were a lot of fountains and flowers blooming,
statues and the like. We found one that was called “Le Baiser” which means “the
kiss.” I don’t know why, but we all adored it and kind of went girly-giggly
over it. Very romantic. We didn’t know where we were only that we liked the
spot. Eventually found a school with a large lawn and more statues. Sat down in
a bench and hung out to rest our feet. There were a lot of birds and Rachael
started to sort of feed them. She has no immunity to sad animal eyes. The crows
didn’t bother with us though, just went straight to the trash after Rachael
threw her apple core away, tore through the bag, and fetched various morsels
out. We must have spent at least half an hour there, just watching the birds.
We found
the exit of the garden, which suddenly turned into a high vehicle traffic area,
with a lot of cobblestone and pavement and steel/glass buildings. There was a
large pointed monument, sort of like the Washington monument that had hieroglyphics
on it. Found out later in my guide book that it was given to Paris by Egypt in
the 1820’s. There was also a large nautical themed fountain I think to
represent the seafaring spirit of France’s past. Across that multi-lane (I use
lane gratuitously here—for the most part, the cars drive in lines without
markers) road was the famous tree lined walkway of the Champs-Elysees. I
remembered this area from a scene in the movie The Happening, where all the plants send out pheromones to block
the survival instinct in people, instead making it the opposite. Just when you
think the movie is resolving into a happy ending for the characters, the last
scene jumps to this tree lined Champs Elysees where the same thing starts to
happen. In the movie it was the height of summer, and looked quite warm and
sunny, with the trees wearing dark green leaves. Compared to that, the park
seemed lackluster and dreary. It didn’t help that we were all cold and damp. It
was the perfect day for Rachael and I to finally buy our umbrellas because it
did nothing but rain all day. The trees were starting to show signs of autumn,
but seemed vaguely brownish, like they couldn’t muster up the energy to throw
out some color.
We found a
metro at that point to take us to the 7th arrondissement, where the
Eiffel Tower is located. Our plan was to get close to the tower and then wander
down sidestreets and such until we found a decently priced café to get some
tea. We would then go to the tower, sight see, and find some dinner. However,
despite our pretty well thought out logic (we knew what to expect of the prices
near the monument, but seven or eight blocks down they were unchanged and
ridiculous) it fell through. We sat down at a small place out of desperation
and ordered tea, so we could be people again, as Rachael puts it. Then we
oriented ourselves, found a metro, and took it to the area near our school of
Montparnasse, figuring we could do some exploring there to find dinner.
Another
good plan we thought, getting to know the places we’d be spending a lot of time
around and also scouting out the eateries for dinner. We got back on the metro
and encountered an accordion player. However this was the second one of the
evening, and there must be a trend or something going on with them, because
they both came onto the metro, set up a speaker that played songs of which an accordion
can accompany, and then went to town. The first time it was funny, the second
time it was just mildly irritating. After they played for a minute or two, they
would stop the music and then walk along the length of the car with a cup. And
then they would hop off at the next stop and get on the next metro car. It just
seemed really automated and mass produced. Different people doing exactly the
same thing, no originality or ingenuity or personality even. Almost robots. It
took the life out of the music.
It did help
me appreciate even more an accordion player I saw on a bridge near Notre Dame.
He sat on a chair on the sidewalk and played his accordion solo. It was more natural
and harmonious with the energy of the street than the others, and it was also
just better playing.
Our arrival
in Montparnasse was met with frustration and disappointment, as it was also
expensive and high end, most of the places with prices higher than we had the
ability to pay (even if we did have the stomach for it) if we wanted to be able
to get food for today. I’m thinking that the area is good for lunch or le dejeuner because of the number of boulangeries (bakeries) in the area that
you can grab a sandwich at or a pastry. There’s also the student center that
provides lunch, a whole meal, for 3 euros. Dinner is a different creature
entirely though. All those lovely affordable places aren’t an option because
they close right around the aperitif social hour. The evening and night belongs
to the bars and restaurants that inevitably cost around 10 euros more, minimum.
So we
wandered and wandered and circled and looked at menus and huddled under our
umbrellas and did some dancing because we all had to pee again. Eventually we
settled on an Italian place, which turned out to be really delicious and not
horrifically painful for our budgets. We were also so hungry that when the food
got there, we pretty much inhaled it. I’m not one for Italian usually, I just
usually feel like there’s way too much starch and not enough everything else,
but it was delicious. We had bread and wine with the meal too, and the wine
definitely helped us loosen up after the rough day we’d had out in the Parisian
weather. We were all in much better moods after we tucked in, and I think our
cheerful demeanor and English talk encouraged our waiter to pick up a
conversation with us. The typical questions of course, where are you from, what
are your plans for your stay in Paris, etc. He wanted to practice his English he
said, and I think he sensed a sympathetic audience. It was a bit of an awkward
turtle though with this mixed Franglish thing going on, and him continually
darting away to do waiter things and picking the conversation right back up
when he stopped by our table. But it was nice to make a sort of pseudo
connection in the city. So far we’ve had very little opportunities to actually
have a conversation with French people aside from in restaurants and at our
homestays. Usually the first is limited to ordering and the second is sad and
pathetic from fatigue and stress.
Tomorrow is
the first day of classes and I’m hoping those go well. I’ll have two each day
of the week, Monday through Thursday, all of them with the Rachaelkins. Hopefully
we’ll be able to settle into a normal schedule here and a normal life. While
learning experiences are good, I’d prefer them to occur in an intermingled
fashion with familiarity. I’m just getting tired of everything seeming so new
all the time. I’m sure by the time we have to leave, we’ll finally have it down
lol. That is the way of these things.
So to incorporate some more French—
Words/Phrases I’ve
learned/relearned since being here:
Améliorer:
to improve
Les vitrails: stained glass windows
L’archevêque:
arch bishop
Annuler:
to cancel
Porter: to carry
Le pigeon: pigeon. This is what we call a cognate my
friends. You never know when they’ll happen, so it’s always good to check.
Moitie: half
Quelle heure
est-il?
Mairie:
city hall
Les Mobiliers :
furniture
L’ouïe: hearing
L’odeur: smell
La gout: taste
La touche :
touch
La vue :
sight
La droite :
right
La gauche :
left
L’épaule :
shoulder
Le genou:
knee
Le Haut: top
La bas: bottom
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