Les Pensées

A few thoughts from the past few days:

1. Techno Music is synonymous with "good music" in Paris.

I learned this on Saturday, after attending the Techno Parade 2010. I don't know why, but I pictured this event being mildly tame, as someone had told me it was an exhibition for contemporary artists. "Cool!" I thought, "Time to get cultured". I was so, so wrong. This event started with a flash mob in the middle of the street, of which my friend Hannah was a member of. They had a choreographed dance to a techno

song that a DJ was playing from some sort of raised stage. At the end of the flash mob, however, I realized that it wasn't a raised stage at all... it was a disco booth and dance floor mounted on a semi truck. All of a sudden, the truck started driving, and thousands of drunk teenagers and young adults started screaming, dancing, and following the truck. It was at this point that I turned around - and saw 20 OTHER TRUCKS with equal numbers of belligerent young people behind them. Each one featured a different popular techno DJ, including semi-famous Quentin Mosimann, winner of French "Star Academy" (like American Idol). The Europeans really go all out for their techno-there were smoke and bubble machines equipping the buses, and people with flares to walk alongside with the spectators (burning objects + alcohol = always a good idea!) I was so unprepared to be a part of this parade! I was dressed nicely, ready for an art gallery! What was I doing amongst 13 year old boys dancing on top of bus stations with Heineken's in their hands?! (They got what they deserved, though, as they shattered this one... ironically they were standing on top of the station for the Hospital...)

Before

After

2. There is too much to do in Paris. If your feet aren't tired at the end of the day, then you're either lazy or you're doing something wrong.

The rest of this weekend was fairly slow, filled with a lot of errand running and because I had a cold, a lot of watching Dexter (I have recently discovered this show and I think it could be the sole reason why I don't learn any French this semester. Must be careful). It was on Sunday night, while frantically finishing the homework I neglected all week, that I started to feel guilty - if I "take the day off" and relax a little bit, am I losing valuable time in my abroad adventures? Of course I am, but if I spend all day every day running around the city of Paris, I will end up burned out and overwhelmed. Somewhere, there has to be a balance. One of my professors suggested that I start walking around Paris (rather than taking the subway) as obviously you see a lot more when above ground. I've taken his advice, and couldn't be more pleased. There's so much to do here and not enough time, so I've got to soak it up while it's still not trop froid. Just the other day, I stumbled upon the Grand Palais while it was housing an exhibition called

"XXVe Biennale des Antiquaires". I'll be honest - I had no idea what that meant, but it had "Antique" in the title, so I figured it was related to Art History. I was puzzled, though, at the amount of seemingly wealthy people entering this building, and the lack of people wearing running shoes with cameras around their necks. I brushed this off, as I got to bypass the 25 Euro entrance fee because "I'm an Art History student". As soon as I got in, though, it became apparent that "Biennale des Antiquaires" is not at all a tourist attraction - it's an auction. Hundreds of the richest people in the world, flocking to different galleries to buy some of the most famous paintings that have ever been created: Talouse-Lautrec's, Picasso's, Matisse's, Manet's... all were on display with a hefty ticket price. I overheard one American (clearly just here for the weekend, you know, adding new pieces to his collection) bartering over a small circular piece of marble he called a "statue" for $70,000. Needless to say, more than a few people noticed that I, wearing my old, beat-up green backpack and a Vassar sweatshirt, didn't exactly have that kind of disposable income, so I took a few pictures and left. I can only hope to have more adventures like this one in the future.

3. I will never understand how Parisians handle their education system.

Today, I intended to go to the Centre Pompidou to get my modern art fix after the failed attempt at Techno Parade, but instead I went to my first class, "Théâtre/Cinéma" at the University of Paris 3 - La Sorbonne Nouvelle. You may think this sounds really elegant and somehow related to La Sorbonne (the oldest University in Paris), but no - this was like walking into a run-down high school circa 1970. I walked into my class at 17h, right when it was supposed to begin, and sat with my French student comrades. Of course, I spoke to no one, and instead chose to write (in English) in my journal. After waiting for 20 minutes with no professor, we decided it was time to give up. Turns out, Professor Deutsch changed not only the time of our class, but the day - so that class doesn't start until next Monday. It was a great introduction to the Paris University System, and made me a little bit thankful that I go to a school that over-organizes and prepares it's students rather than leaving them in a classroom to fend for themselves. Oh well, I've got "Dramaturgy and Directing Contemporary Plays" tomorrow ... here's to hoping it goes a little bit better. On another note, my American run classes, "The Idea of the Monster" and "Kitsch and Art" are super interesting and going well, and I haven't had any issues registering for them - just as a comparison. I think a part of me is itching to get back to schoolwork. I'm halfway through about three different books in French and can't motivate myself any further because there's no punishment for not completing them. I only hope I will not always be a product of my society, and will instead one day enjoy reading for leisure.

"Institut d'Etudes Slaves" - Slave Studies? (P.S. This is The Sorbonne you guys)

Sorry to sound so bitter, I really ended up having a good and productive day, ending with some time spent with my favorite host family. But right now there are people talking loudly literally right outside my open window. Rather than getting out of bed and closing said window, I have this message for my inconsiderate neighbors:

"Let us sleep!"

Culture Shock

"A great photograph is an image that stops the endless flow of images"

Paris is like this great treasure chest, where the more you search through it, the more gems you find. I had the pleasure of stumbling upon one of those last week, a temporary exhibit at the Petit Palais. For background knowledge, the Petit and Grand Palais function as museums with several exhibitions a year - at the Grand Palais, there is currently a Monet exhibition, but the lines to get in are massive (I guess Monet was kind of popular or something), so the Petit Palais is a calmer alternative. They have an impressive permanent collection, but currently they have an exposé on a father-daughter pair of French photographers, called "100 photos de Pierre et Alexandra Boulat". Pierre's style was focused on black and white, capturing the beautiful in the ordinary. I was struck by several pieces:

While his daughter, Alexandra Boulat, focused on photo-journalism, with really powerful and relevant pictures usually focusing on crisis and need (mainly in other parts of the world more affected by things like war, poverty, disease), but also giving viewers a much needed wake up call:

To see the work of these people, so completely contradictory but sparking from the same need to capture something real, an image that treads through all of the constant motion of everyday life and finds that picture that is not simply a photograph but a memory, a moment - it was a good find in Paris.

Alors On Danse, Americano

Every time I go anywhere that plays music, I hear this song. What is happening to me that I start to bop my head when it comes on? Could it be - I enjoy this? Also, this.

Alright, I have no excuse. I just have bad taste in music.

une poste aurait dû être prise il y a longtemps

"To love is to be in disorder... So let's love!" - Found above a wall of "I love you" written in different languages in Montmartre.

Finally, I think it is time I relay a tiny slice of the life I've been living for the past two and a hald weeks (it's hard to believe I've only been in Paris for such a short amount of time, I feel as though I've been in high-gear without ever really thinking about "The Passage of Time"). I've been doing my best to spend a lot of time wandering around the city, although this tends to make me a) lost and b) late to all of my activities. But here is where I play the "it's been worth it" card - because it definitely has been.

Last Monday, on my first full day in Paris, I braved the metro for the first time, only to find it incredibly easy, even for a directionally challenged person like myself. I will make one small admission: I did get on it going the wrong way the first time, but I quickly realized my mistake and remedied the situation. Okay. I will never speak of that again, as I do my best to act like a

true Parisian while I'm here - walking on to the metro with confidence just as the door closes and getting to my destination without a hitch. I've even been able to answer people's questions, in French about the metro! Never mind the fact that I hide in corners for several minutes before entering the station, tracing the train lines with my finger on my "Paris par Arrondissement" map - just to make sure I'm not about to head to the 'burbs or something. In any case, on Monday, I arrived at my destination fairly smoothly, and entered Reid Hall, where many of the American study abroad programs for various universities are located. From the orientation, I was able to gather fairly quickly that my program is - how do I say this kindly - useless. After a two hour session of "advice", the only concrete information I was able to gather was that I should try to use my French on a regular basis and try to explore the city. I tried not to let it get me down, though. I'm in Paris!

If there's one thing you can do in Paris, it's explore. I've spent so much of my time already alone, walking and deciding on a whim where to go next. While I've enjoyed group traveling as well, I find that there's something calming about figuring things out by myself. For example, last Tuesday I decided I wanted to see the Louvre. So I went. Not only did I go, but it was pouring rain and I had to stand in a giant line of tourists, without an umbrella, to get in. That is a situation that normally would have catapaulted me in to grumpy mode, but I was happy to be standing in front of one of the most famous buildings in the world. Finally, I was let inside, drenched but filled with anticipation, only to find another mass of people waiting in line to buy tickets. I know I said earlier that my program was useless, but I have to give credit where credit is due: they have made us identification cards that mark all of us as Art History majors, meaning that we can get into most of the Museums in Paris (and there are many, many museums in Paris) and several monuments that are historically relevant to art for FREE. So, I waltzed in to the Louvre, unstressed as I knew I'd be able to come back as I pleased, and spent a couple hours looking at Ancient Egyptian artifacts (did you know that they had mirrors? I knew that the Egyptians were kind of bad-ass, but I had no idea to what extent...), staring at famous 17th and 18th century paintings, and drooling over the collection of statues. After all of that, I've still only seen about a third of the museum, probably even less. I haven't seen the Mona Lisa yet, but I figure I have ample time to see all that I want to see there.

It's incredible how much is packed in to one city - on any given day I can decide that I want to

climb L'Arc de Triomphe, see some original Picasso or Matisse masterpieces at L'Orangerie, or if I'm feeling like it's a lazier day, I'll wander to the Jardin de Tuilleries and picnic and people-watch. People-watching is also wonderful, because once in a while I'll catch an earful of English and quickly turn around, feeling slightly nostalgic (remember when I used to speak English?), and once in a while English does come in handy. Last week, while thrift shopping in the Marais, my friend Hannah and I ran into a couple of nice Australians who asked us our opinions on items they were considering purchasing. We parted ways and said our "enchantées", only to pass them on the street a couple hours later. The girl, Tess, chased us down and asked us to

come to her birthday party that night, because she liked us. It turns out she and her friend Adrian are Australian models, and Hannah, Clare, and I were stopped and asked to pose for a French style blog. What an ego boost! Also slightly embarrassing, as none of us know how to pose or be "natural", so we kind of just started laughing uncomfortably. Oh, but back to the point I was making at the beginning of this paragraph, that very same day we walked across the Seine and stumbled upon the Cathédrale de Notre Dame like it was no big deal. Paris is truly a city like any other - Metropolitan and booming, yet quaint at the same time.

One of my favorite excursions so far has been to Montmartre, which is within the city limits of Paris but feels like a hidden gem, because it is higher in elevation and overlooks the city. We climbed our way to Sacré Coeur

(Sacred Heart), which is a beautiful (see right) church with an incredible view of Paris. While there were certainly many tourists buzzing about, I found it very peaceful to sit on the steps and listen to a harp player and watch the cityscape for a while. When I finally went inside the church, I got goosebumps. I am not and never have been religious at all, but Mass was so powerful and moving that I felt like I understood why someone would be religious. To be in such a beautiful place, to share song, prayer, worship - one can appreciate that if there were no belief in God, such services would never exist, which I can only think would be a great shame. It was the first religious ceremony I've ever attended, but well, well worth it. After leaving Sacré-Coeur, I went on to the Cemetery of Montmartre, where Emile Zola's tomb is located, and saw some incredible tributes to what must have been some incredible people. Either that, or some incredible wealthy people. Probably the latter. It was interesting day, to be in a spiritual place followed by another spiritual place in quite a different manner, but no worries - I made sure to visit The Moulin Rouge in between those two, just to balance out all of those thoughts of Higher Powers with some down-to-earth, good old fashioned debauchery, sex, and drugs. Okay, you got me. I didn't even go inside The Moulin Rouge, I just took pictures. But that counts for something.

The Moulin Rouge

Just as tacky as it was portrayed in the movie, but renovated to fit the 21st Century!

The next day, high off of my visit to Montmartre, I visited another, slightly more famous cemetery - Père Lachaise. This is the crème de la crème of all cemeteries, where Edith Piaf,

Chopin, Molière, Delacroix, Jim Morrison, and (wait for it) Oscar Wilde are buried. Being an over-excited Drama Major, as soon as we got our bearings, I rushed over to Oscar Wilde's tomb. It isn't particularly pretty compared to many of the tombstones I encountered, but it's large, and my God, it's Oscar Wilde's grave so who cares? As I'm sure you've heard before, one of the great traditions and tourist attractions of Paris is to don some lipstick and plant a big

kiss on the tombstone - really, it's covered in red, pink, and coral lip marks. So, I got out my reddest red and paid my respect to one of my heroes - where would I be without "Importance of Being Earnest"? The rest of the cemetery was beautiful, just like I pictured it being (or rather, was shown à la Paris, Je t'aime), although the grave of Jim Morrison was tiny, hard to find, and a little confusing - anyone know why he's buried there? Was he just a francophile? Will I be buried in Père Lachaise??

Another thing I can't get enough of here is their dedication to the arts. What a wonderful place to be, where it is respected - scratch that - expected as a part of an education (or just living) that one go to the Theatre, go to the Opera or the Ballet, love, feel, and appreciate art as a part of la vie quotidienne! I've now been to an Opera at the Opéra Bastille to see Eugène Onéguine, and I can't even describe how blown away I was. I'm used to the theatre, to the point where rarely anything is shocking to me. Don't get me wrong, I love it and have seen many incredible plays, but it is something I can comprehend, I understand the process that went in to a production, and so I am expectant of the outcome. The Opera, though, was an entirely new game. I truly could not understand the talent that these performers posess. What kind of gift were they given that they can produce music like that? It was some kind of sensory overload, watching the orchestra (one of the most amazing parts about the show was the way the conductor moved his hands, I kid you not), the magnificent set and costumes, the stage pictures! Everything came together and I was stunned. Stunned, I tell you! The very next night, I went to La Comédie Française to see a play of Molière's called L'Avare. Molière is like Shakespeare to the French, as he wrote many plays, all were fairly popular, and they are performed all the time in Paris. Also, in the same fashion that Molière is not the same in English, Shakespeare minus the iambic pentameter and Elizabethan English isn't quite right, either... so a French writer is bound to be more popular with native speakers. That said, me notbeing a native speaker, I had a hard time picking up on the jokes and the farce - it's like watching Shakespeare (just to really milk this analogy) as a fourth grader - you hear the words but can't quite figure out why something is funny or important. It was wonderful to be in a theatre again, though. I can't wait to go back... I've already got quite a list, but one can dream.

I think I've said quite enough for this entry. There is a general strike tomorrow, and since I haven't started classes yet, I'll likely be spending the day either walking around the neighborhood or dreaming up some new things to share here... on verra!

I leave you with this: Above is the Pont des Arts, where couples can "lock their love" on to the bridge. Paris, I would lock my love with you!

Très Occupée

I can't apologize enough for not blogging about Paris yet. There is too much to say, and I am overwhelmed. I am working on an entry, slowly but surely. Here's a small post to keep you all satiated until I get my act together, and a reassurance (just in case you thought I had somewhat assimilated and become Parisian) that I am still an American Stumbling Abroad:

I had the pleasure of going to the country (about three hours by car East of Paris in a tiny village called Poisson) with my host family this weekend. When I arrived, I was greeted with nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. It was a nice little slice of home. My host Dad's mom, Marie-Claire, has a beautiful and gigantic house that we stayed in, complete with many blond haired grandchildren running around. I met them one at a time, in staggered incraments. When I met Louis, who is 10 years old, he stood directly in front of me, and slowly inched his face closer to mine. Having no idea what he was doing, I backed away and laughed nervously. My Host Dad came to the rescue and said "He's trying to give you bises". I should have known! French customs defeat me again! Bisous, or Bises in the plural, are those silly Kisses-On-The-Cheek that you see in movies with stereotypical French people in them. My host parents don't really give Bises, so I'd forgotten about the custom.

And that, friends, is how Louis, a decade my junior, made a fool of me. Mostly, though, I think I just made him really nervous. His little brother, Hugo, though, was eager to be my friend. We played cards together, we played with a "ballon" (ball), and then he invited me to watch The Simpsons and Pokèmon with him! What a day! But really, the country was wonderful. It was nice to take a little break from the man-made wonders of Paris and get to see a tree that isn't manicured to perfection in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Really, I promise to write again soon, and add some of the many photos I've been taking. Classes have started, and I still have so much I want to do here, so blogging tends to go on the backburner. I'll be back soon, though. You can hold me to it!

EDIT: Little reminders of Home, courtesy of the French Countryside. Simple and serene.

My host Dad, Ghislain, absolutely loves this bridge, Le Viaduc de Thonnance les Moulins. He even hired a painter to replicate it:

Photo Blogging

Blogging about adventures in Paris will have to wait, for two very important reasons:

1. I only got a new camera yesterday, so I have yet to document the city well enough to include photo evidence of my travels, because...

2. I went to Versailles today! I took more pictures than one would ever need, and decided that, in this case, a picture is worth a thousand words. With that, let the photo blogging commence!

"A Toutes les Gloires de la France"

When we first arrived at Versailles, following the massive amount of people forming a giant line to enter, I wondered what could be so great about a palace. But as I soon discovered, it is certainly one of the most beautiful man-made places I've been. To all the glories of France, indeed.

It is rather impressive, complete with a statue of Louis XIV himself prominently displayed at the entrance. To be honest, half the fun of Versaille is learning about all of the trouble Louis and Marie were able to stir up during their time at Versailles. There is nothing like 18th Century Gossip!

Here's proof I was actually there! I really can't stress enough how beautiful everything was. Generally, I don't enjoy manicured lawns and trees, man-made lakes and general extravagance, but there's no way to deny that the $2 billion or so that it would cost by today's standards left all of us with a real gem of a place. The grounds are incredible, with beautiful flowers, fountains, and orchards everywhere. I had this strange realization while adventuring (and it certainly was an adventure, it took a couple hours to travel by foot) that Marie Antoinette was a real person. She existed. I couldn't help but think of her as some sort of giant mythological creature,

who needed all of that space in order to survive - there has to be some plausible reason why the palace is so big! But no, she was my size, maybe even smaller, just walking around like she owned the place! Which she did! Let me tell you, being here made me want to watch Marie Antoinette the movie. Really, really bad. Why is that I idolize someone who oppressed hundreds of thousands of people? Well hey, the girl knew how to keep a garden, that's for sure. Or at least, the royal garden-keepers knew how to keep a garden...

There were also hedge mazes off the Allée Royale that lead to secret fountains, statues, monuments, benches, etc. This picture was one of the cooler ones we stumbled upon, with arches enveloping fountains all the way around a statue in the middle.

We also went for a row-boat ride, and were subsequently attacked by a small army of swans. I guess there are worse things that could have happened. This was one of the highlights of the day, getting to see the sights from a different vantage point, and working our arms for once, giving our feet some much needed R&R. Oh, and if you look really closely, you can see the Château in the background of this picture!

You might think this is inside the castle proper. But no. No, this is simply Marie Antoinette's private get-away house. Everyone had them back then.

A picture of the grotto.

Fun Fact: Marie Antoinette was quite close to escaping France when things got tough during the revolution. In fact, she was right next to the border, "disguised" as a servant (although she required a black silk gown and private carriage with a built-in tea set), but our poor Queen got hungry. She was so famished that she pulled over and bought food with gold coins - that had her face on them - and she was (shockingly) captured. Don't worry, it was totally worth dying over.

Left: The Queen's Hamlet

Another fact: Marie literally went through her life having never opened a door for herself. There were specific people within the castle whose sole purpose was to make all of the doors in Versaille automatic for the King and Queen. One day, Marie came to a door, but it did not open. Not having the knowledge on exactly how a door worked, she stood in front of it for half an hour until someone finally came and opened the door for her. It's hard being the Queen sometimes.

Pictured left is part of the village that the Queen had built on the Palace grounds. Strangely, Marie Antoinette loved to "play peasant", and in her faux-peasant village, she was allowed to pretend to be one of the commoners for a day or two. The citizens of France loved her so much for it, they took her head as a keepsake.

At exactly 3:30 in the afternoon, all of the fountains in Versaille turned on. When Versailles was home to

King Louis XIV, the fountains were turned on only as the King walked by. Now, they are turned on for an hour and a half each day, for spectators to pretend like they're royalty, too.

This one I found particularly beautiful. After extensive google searching, I found that this one is called the Fountain of Latone. I'm sure there is some great symbolism in there, but I've worn out my search bar skills for the day.

After exhausting ourselves exploring the gardens, we decided it was finally time to go inside and see the Château. Pictured here is the outside. Just in case people weren't sure whether the royal family was wealthy, they trimmed the entire outside in gold leaf. Pretty classy.

This was just the entrance. It must have also been used as an orchestra hall, as there was an orchesta set up to play for us as we walked in. You can see the gold organ in the background, with chandeliers hanging between each arch. Part of me wonders how much of this was destroyed during the French Revolution and just re-constructed for tourism purposes. If I was a peasant back then, I know I would have smashed a Roman-style column or two.

A better view of the ceiling. All of it was painted like this, with many religious scenes depicted across the entire castle. Needless to say, I spent a lot of my time looking up, and a lot of time running into other enthralled tourists. Technically, I wasn't supposed to take this picture. Lucky for all of you, I'm a rebel.

The Hall of Mirrors

Yes, there were many photos of myself taken in these mirrors. No, I will not post them.

It was about this time that my eyes started to cross over the amount of gold, feathers, and powder blue chairs I had seen. And so ends my photo blog of Versailles. But I leave you with this:

Original portrait of Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette themselves. Pre-decapitation, of course.

What a great day! À tout à l'heure, mes amis!

A Little Piece of Fat with your Split-Peas Soup

Bordeaux, Conquered. Next stop: Paris.

A thought on language barriers:

"I just found out 'Grasse' means fat! I've been running around saying, 'I'm a little piece of fat!'"
- Grace "Grasse" Humphries

For some reason, speaking French has become increasingly difficult (probably because I am trying to converse at Parisian rate, much faster than anywhere else), and I'm finding that there is an exponential correlation between how poorly I speak French and how funny the translation becomes. But more on that later. I am sorry for the obscene amount of time since my last post (in Paris, one week is an obscene amount of time), but it was the best I could do after a terrible ordeal of breaking my computer charger, spending three hours in two apple stores over four days, and finally, finally having access to a computer for the first time since Sunday. There is much for me to blog about from my last days in Bordeaux, and my first in Paris. There will be few pictures in this entry, and they will have to wait until I'm able to buy a new camera, as I also broke my camera last Friday. Electronics have not been my strong suit these past couple of days. So, bear with me. I'll try to keep things light and interesting.

The last bit of time spent in Bordeaux turned out to be full of sunshine, and full of time well-spent. On Friday, Hannah and I made our way down to Le Lac (literally, it's named "The Lake") and swam and dove in the perfect clear water before drying off by jogging in the nearby forest, finding a sunny spot of grass, doing some yoga, and sprawling out for some leisurely reading. Had my camera not died, it would have been the perfect afternoon, but I was granted one final picture to capture the beautiful weather and wonderful site. It was a welcome break from the old money and architecture that constantly surrounded us in Bordeaux. We were thrown back into that world the next day though, on our last full day before heading to Paris. The program took us to Saint-Émillion, another wine capital in South-Western France, but also home of a

medieval church fashioned out of one single, giant rock - essentially, it was carved out of a cliff face and tunnels into the earth. It really was quite interesting to see such ancient history, but it was at this point that I realized I've had quite enough of tourism and guided lectures - I much preferred getting to wander the vineyards and take in some mental pictures of some really beautiful things. I know, really I do, that there is value in understanding what it is I'm looking at and where it comes from. And I enjoy getting some basic information on my own time, based on what exactly I want to know. I guess I just really prefer to imagine why things were the way they were, and what people were doing thousands of years ago. But, this is why I'm a Drama major, and not a History major.

After heading home from our final group excursion, it really began to hit us all that we were about to start the journey we all came here for. Bordeaux was really nice. Really, really nice. But when you feel like you know a place after two weeks, maybe it's time to find some place a little bigger. After a long and tiring battle with my giant suitcase, giant backpack, and two carry-on items, it was into the tiny French car and on to the airport. A quick and sincere good-bye with my host mother left me glad that I had made the trip out to Bordeaux, but also incredibly excited for what would come next. Just an hour and a half later, our flight landed at Paris-Orly, where we were sorted by arrondissement and shuffled into various mini-vans to be taken to our new homes for the next four months. I hadn't had much anxiety leading up to this point, but seeing Paris for the first time in a van quickly approaching an unkown destination was too much for my weak little heart to handle. When we pulled up in front of my apartment building, I was in all-out panic mode. I struggled while punching in codes, trying to push open the door with my suitcase but not being quite able to navigate it through, punching in more codes, and finally getting to ring the doorbell at door 193. Opening the door was Ghislain, who grabbed my suitcase and showed me that waiting just inside was my other host father, Samir, and their one-year-old daughter Abigail (shout out to my dear friend Abby Jones) who was recently adopted from Haiti, and their nearly two-year-old son Nathaniel, whose surrogate mother is from India. Already I knew I was in the perfect place.

I have to take a break from my Parisian timeline and write more about my host family, because they are truly worth mentioning. I knew that my host family experience could make or break my entire semester abroad, because my main reason for choosing a program with a home-stay was to be regularly conversing in French and not have to worry about living on my own in a foreign country. It was so, so good to see that the view of France that I had gotten from Bordeaux - very conservative, slightly cold, upper class - was not the only one that exists. Far from it. My wonderful, wordly family takes me on walks to their favorite parks, they live in a down-to-earth, quaint residential appartment and are entirely middle class. They've done everything to welcome me, and it has reassured me that Paris is not some sort of mecca for high-fashion billionaires. It's varied, it's flawed, it's big and it's small, it's everything all at once. Ghislain and Samir also love to cook, are constantly making their own bread, sauces, hummus, and picking vegetables and fruits out of their garden. We eat vegetarian, because Ghislain is incredibly concerned with issues of animal (and human) rights, and thinks French people are crazy because they smoke all the time. They're constantly helping me with my French, like the time I accidentally said "Je suis fini" instead of "J'ai fini", meaning "I'm dead" rather than "I'm done". Whoops. But everything with them is lighthearted, and they love to try and improve

their English by translating things back and forth. Tonight, when Ghislain told me he had made Soupe des poids-cassés, he asked me the translation in English. I told him it was "Split-Pea Soup", to which Samir responded "Yes! Split-Pea Soup!". Ghislain, though, said "No, no. It's

Split-PEAS Soup. It's a plural!" And continued to repeat "Split-peas soup" over and over again. I didn't have the heart to tell him... And speaking of being lost in translation, I definitely don't speak Baby French. While I absolutely adore the two kids I'm living with, one doesn't speak yet, and the other speaks in terms that are incomprehensible to my barely-able-to-pick-up-adult-French ear. So far, I have been able to determine that "Bo-Bo" means "I have pain", "Ago" means "Again", and "No-No" means "My uncle". The rest is babble. But I probably sound just as incoherent to him, so it's a fair trade. The point is, I absolutely look forward to coming home at the end of every day. They've invited me to use the informal pronoun 'tu' rather than the more formal 'vous', which literally almost made me shed a tear or two, and I regularly watch TV with them after dinner (France beat Bosnia in the European Cup 2-0 on Tuesday, Allez!). I'm so lucky to be spending my time in Paris with some really incredible people.

Alright. I thought I'd be able to fit in all of my adventures in Paris so far, but I think it's too much. Part Two of Introduction to Parisian thoughts will come shortly.