Christmastime in Paris

Starbucks

Hi! Using the Wi-Fi (Wee-fee, in French) to do work at Starbucks. I no longer feel guilty going here. Have you ever had French coffee? IT SUCKS. Starbucks isn't the best ever, but it's better than what I could get most anywhere else in Paris. Italians make good coffee. Spaniards make good coffee. Americans make good coffee, since it runs through our veins in place of blood. The French do not. They drink a lot of bad coffee out of teeny tiny cups, and are too stubborn to improve it. But Starbucks is always full of Frenchies, so they must be coming to their senses.

And also, they play really good music. It's always the same, and I think I have the playlist memorized, but I like it just the same.

And they play so much Sam Cooke! He has the best voice ever, I'm pretty sure. Why does all good talent die so young?

16th Arrondissement: BCBG rap

Hello, I'm back from Spain! I can write more when I'm not such a busy bee (this weekend?). But here's a funny rap about the Parisian neighborhood I live in. I'll post the lyrics in English below, but I just stuck the french ones in a translator, so it probably doesn't make sense to those of you who don't speak french. But I don't really care. Tant pis!

BCBG rap (Bon Chic Bon Genre, Good Taste Good Style, aka French version of yuppie)




hey dude
Let me introduce myself
My name is Charles-Henri Du Pre
I live in Neuilly
In a neighborhood but then lost
I am the only son
In a mansion
Is the cross, the banner
To sustain me.
Not an Arab corner
Neither a Euromarket.

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: This is our ghetto

Hey man, my name me
It Hubert Valery
Patrick Stanislaus
Duke of Montmorency
At 5 ½ years
I already had my Ferrari.
J'pouvais not lead (pouvais is could...I could not drive?)
Of course I was too young!

Have you grabbed my friend
Our desire to revolt?
I want to scream
"Damn, flute, shit, shit ..." (lol)

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Hello, how are you?
Hello, how are you?

Y is tired of Fauchon
From Hédiard, salmon, caviar

Hello, it's Patrick on the device
Yeah, that's Pat, 'You okay?

And me? And me?
You do not know what is my life?
A rub Chantal
Or Marie-Sophie
To make the hand-kissing
Has evil sluts fucked (ed. note. whaaaa?)
Finally, I wanted to say
In girls a bit stuck ...

I want to be a thug,
True true outlaw.
But when you're born here,
You do not choice. (choose?)
Y is fed up with Mylène
Ségolène, Gwen, Celine, Eglantine
Marie-Chantal ...

Y is tired, my brother,
It has big problems.
Y is tired, my brother,
To experience the system.

My future self is already mapped out:
Private boxes, Sciences Po (ed. note. HOLLA!!!), ENA or H.E.C.
And in the worst case
If I do not work,
I'll have to resume
The box of candy.

Hello, how are you?

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Dude, we're all products
In a society dependent on economic
Market fluctuations
Destabilizing the market.
Yes man!
And out of this straitjacket
Economic, capitalist
We need to say no, no, no, dude!

Hello, how are you?

Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy is no picnic
Auteuil, Neuilly, Passy: this is our ghetto.

Hello, how are you?

We come from a family who has ever suffered
We come from a family that can no longer suffer.
X2

Stuff French People Like.

This is a list. Sort of like "Stuff White People Like", but different.

1. English. Sometimes it's the writing on their shirt that gives it away: "Who are you and why are you reading my shirt?" or my personal favorite, "Cat". Sometimes it's their use of expletives. I wonder if they apologize by saying "Pardon my English"?

2. PDA. I know Paris is romantic and all that crap, but everyone is smooching everywhere. I can't escape it. People are even smooching at the next table over, 4 feet away from my face. I feel like the third wheel, and I don't even know these people!!!

3. Dogs. French people love dogs. Probably more than their children. I saw a French lady hit her child, but I've never seen a French person hit their dog. And that's, like, proof, right?

4. Baguettes. At any time, 8 out of 10 Parisians are carrying a baguette. True story.

5. This joke. I've heard it about 3 times on the metro: "What do you call a person who speaks 3 languages? Trilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 2 languages? Bilingual. What do you call a person who speaks 1 language? American."

6. Carbs. My meals at home are quite nutritious, but I worry about what I'm eating the rest of the day. All my options seem to involve cheese, bread, and chocolate. And all the mayo they put on every sandwich!! I don't understand how French women only eat terrible things, and they stay thin. Someone told me it's just because they eat richer ingredients, which fills them up, so they eat less overall. I'm not sure.

7. Correcting you. French people will tell you when you've butchered their language. Not in a rude way, but they'll make sure you know you've made a boo-boo.

8. Drinking in the streets. Any open container is okay in France. A very popular night activity is gathering wine, cheese, and bread for a picnic down by the Seine, or in the Louvre courtyards, or in the Tuileries, or wherever. Some friends and I did this on Friday evening, and it was great! On Saturday, a few of us went to a festival around Sacre Coeur in Northern Paris. There was music, creepy people in costumes, dancers, food and drink from France's different regions. And no fence! That so wouldn't fly in the U.S. But it was a lovely day with lovely weather and lovely people.

9. 16 euro hamburgers. I mean, really?

10. Sitting in a restaurant/café/coffee shop for hours on end. No one ever gives you dirty looks or asks you to clear out. It's glorious. You're paying a premium to occupy their space, so take your time! There is a hierarchy of prices: Sit on the patio>sit inside>stand at the bar>To-Go

Well, I'll be M.I.A for a few days since I'm going to Brussels to visit EU institutions on Tuesday and Wednesday. Think of all the waffles that are waiting there for me. Until then, Adieu.

Alexandra can't figure out how to buy a Navigo Pass

After spending a month stubbornly buying booklets of metro tickets, and killing a whole lotta rain forest, I finally decided it might be a good idea to get with the program and Al Gore by buying a Navigo pass. It's this plastic card that you buy and fill up every month, or every week, and ride unlimited. So, passport photo in hand (the French LOVE passport photos. They use them for everything. It's nuts.), I went to the Rue de Bac metro station after class and tried to buy a Navigo pass. But it didn't go so well.

Me: Hi, I need to buy a Navigo Pass! (Straightforward enough, I thought)
Metro Station Lady: Which one, dumb-ass*?
M: I beg your pardon?
MSL: There are 4 types, regular, student...yaddayaddayadda, whatdoyouwant?
M: Um, well, I'm a student, so that one I guess.
MSL: Shoves an student card application at me

End Scene

I read the application on the train home, and it was some sort of contract for 12 months, which wasn't what I was looking for. I figured I needed to buy a regular old Navigo pass.

So at the Victor Hugo station, I went to the booth and asked the gentleman there how I could purchase a monthly Navigo pass. He told me to go to the ticket machine to buy a voucher, and then bring it back to the booth. I went to the machine, and there was no option to buy any sort of Navigo voucher. I went back to the booth to ask about this, and he'd already locked up and left for the evening. Apparently actually helping me get what I needed was below him and his time.

Clearly the universe does not want me to save money or trees.

*ok, an embellishment. But it was implied!

Rive Droite ou Rive Gauche?

When living in Paris, there comes a point where you must choose between the banks of the Seine. There is no getting around it. You must choose, and then forever define yourself by your choice. I've yet to figure out where I belong, but luckily I live here, so I have time to figure that out. You, however, do not have that luxury, so you desperately need my advice.

I live on the Right Bank (North Paris), and go to school on the Left Bank (South Paris), so I am well qualified to help you evaluate what kind of personality you have. According to some largely untrue stereotypes. Let's go.

1. Do you prefer art or literature?
A. Art
B. Literature

2. Would you dine at an Asian restaurant on on a street lined with sex shops and massage parlors?
A. God, no. I'm getting food poisoning just thinking about it.
B. Bring it onnnnnn. As long as it's authentic!

3. Do you enjoy capitalism?
A. YES
B. NO

4. Do you claim to be well-versed in philosophy, while in reality you've only read the wikipedia summaries?
A. No
B. Yes

5. Macarons or Crepes?
A. Macarons.
B. Crepes.

6. Do you know a tourist trap when you see one?
A. Yes. English on the menu, sub-par food, neon signs...Latin Quarter...
B. No. This place looks lively! I much prefer it to 'typical Parisian' haunts. Too bad I don't realize I'm wasting my money...

7. Would anyone ever describe you as quirky?
A. Never. I haven't a quirky bone in my body.
B. Sounds about right. Call me the quirkmiester.

8. Are you rich or poor?
A. Rich.
B. Poor. But not really. Because I live in Paris. I just like to pretend!!! teehee.

Tally your As and Bs to find your Parisian Personality:


Mostly A: You're Right Bank! Congrats, you are a snobby, shiny, Golden Triangle-shopping, workaholic member of the Bourgoise. Unless you live in Monmartre or Le Marias...but we don't talk about that....
Mostly B: You're Left Bank! Congrats, you are a snobby, ethnic food stand or literary café-patronizing (yo guys, I know this really cool little place), pseudo-intellectual bohemian.
Equal number of A and B: You pont-sitter! Your wishy-washiness lands you on Ile-de-la-Cité, where you will be forced to share a cot with Quasimodo in his bell tower.

Are you down with the RATP? Nope, you know me.

Never cross the RATP (Paris' CTA), they are ruthless.

Justine and I took advantage of the Journees du Patrimoine (This weekend, buildings owned by the French state not normally accessible to the public were open) by visiting the Chateau de Vincennes, built by Charles V of France, from 1340-1410. Well, King Charlie didn't build it himself, but you know what I mean.

On the way back into the city, I had to buy another set of metro tickets. Instead of waiting in line, Justine suggested I just follow her in through the turnstall, because it was a Sunday, and no one would be watching, and her friends do it all the time.

Of course, as soon as we passed through, we were approached by a stern-faced RATP employee who wanted to know what in the world we thought we were doing. Justine went into the famous French pleading mode I read about in Polly Platt (which normally works like a charm on men, she insists), but this woman would not budge. Even when Justine begged her to "look at me, like a human being". Zero tolerance. Stone cold. 50 euro fine.

Justine insisted on paying, so I just feel horrible. That was the most expensive metro ride ever.

Solo in the 16th

Even in a city of millions of people, it's still possible to feel pretty lonely. I mean, not all the time, and I'm not whining for your pity, or anything. I was just making an observation.

Today I was extremely exhausted. I'm not sure why, I didn't go to the Integration Party for Sciences Po last night, even though I bought a ticket. 11pm-5am on a school night? My, my. However, one of the French students told me there will be a "mariniere" party on a boat on the Seine in early October. As you can see in my profile photo, I am big on sailor stripes. They are kind of my thing.

My lame-ness (or not?) paid off in the end, as I was able to answer my professor's question that she uses to trick Americans. (Q: Where did the idea for seperation of powers in government come from? American Answer: The American Constitution, Correct Answer: Montisquieu) Wow wow wow, this makes me sound like a terrible snobby uptight person who hates all fun times and only prides herself on answering obscure questions about philosophers. Maybe this is who I am. I might as well embrace it. But, no! No, it isn't. I like to have fun just as much as anyone else. I just think my definition of fun is a little different.

Now, the Onion just wrote an article about study abroad that pretty much accurately describes most student experiences. This program is probably one of, if not the most, rigorous that Northwestern offers, and carries quite a bit of prestige, so working is not optional. So, I'm not really looking for that kind of study abroad. I don't want to travel around every weekend, or drink until I'm drunk as a skunk. I DO want to know Paris like the back of my hand, I want to learn, and I want to make good friends, American and Parisian.

Sometimes I do feel a bit lonely all the way out here in the 16eme arrondisment. It takes a while by metro for me to get anywhere, I have dinner at home at 7:30, and then the metro closes again at 1:30 or so. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for Sonia's hospitality, and her insistance for me to use French at all times, but sometimes I'm a bit jealous that a lot of our group is in a more centralized location. And at the same time, as much as I love my fellow Americans, I'm itching to meet some French friends too. Plus, I have a lot of time on my hands, with no job or extracurriculars (yet, I think I might check out the SciencesPo choir/orchestra tomorrow) to keep me constantly busy. It's still early, but I'm waiting for the pace of things to really pick up! And filling my free time with shopping is a terrible idea for my bank account, so let's hope something comes along quickly.

My cell phone is in working order now, and I can call anyone I want to, so I really shouldn't be complaining. I just think I spend too many Parisian nights in my room studying, when I could be in some café studying, perhaps with another human being.

I'm going to definitely make more of an effort to organize meetings outside of school, starting this weekend. Sunday I'm meeting up with Justine and some of her friends to visit President Sarkozy's palace/residence.

I've had a good week so far, it's just lonely when you're tired, alone, a bit sad and worried about family at home. But this too shall pass!

The Real World: Paris

Lately, I've been getting some complaints that my blog is boring (Angelica). To remedy this, I've finally found time to breathe between inhaling flaky pastries to write a blog post for you all. How generous of me, I know. :-)

So far, Paris has really blown me out of the water. Last time I was here, for 3 days as a sixteen year old, I came, I saw the monuments, and I left with photo-perfect memories. Living here is another animal entirely. It's soooo different, like...a real city? Who would have thunk it?

I am absolutely amazed at how many young people are out and about...all the time. Day or night, there are huge groups of kids, in high school, or college-aged just loitering about, hanging by the Seine, or on bridges, or on street corners. Sometimes there is alcohol, sometimes not. My friend Justine says that this is partly because Parisian youth have lots of money and little supervision by workaholic parents, which make sense. I suppose rich American teens do the same thing, but inside family homes, since the police wouldn't look kindly on large public congregations of young people or underage drinking.

Paris also seems much more diverse to me than it did four years ago. Maybe this isn't statistically true, but since I'm actually living here, I have noticed all the ethnic minorities and their integration (or not, regrettably) into Paris, instead of monuments and palaces. It is interesting that some non-native French are considered completely assimilated, but others are not. Recent European immigrants or 3rd generation Black French do not seem to face the same difficulties as Arab immigrants, for example. All citizens are supposed to be considered French, and that's all, no hyphenated labels here (statistics on ethnic origin are not kept by the French Republic). But just because race and religion are officially ignored by the state, doesn't mean ethnic and religious prejudice doesn't exist. Whether the struggle of ethnic minorities in the suburbs is a class issue or a race issue, it's still a major problem in France.

But not all of Parisian life is troubling. Hardly. Trust me, this is coming from someone who just had dinner in the Latin Quarter, and then just swung by the Louvre for a few hours for FREE. I am just blown away and thankful that I am able to do such amazing things. In the past few days, I've ordered my first cocktail (a mojito, and just 1. Mojitos are very trendy in Paris, btdubs.), visited the most AMAZING department store (Le Bon Marché) that I've ever seen. I've visited the first of the trifecta of Parisian burial places, De Passy (Manet, DeBussy, Fauré). Pere La Chaise (Wilde, Morrison, Piaf, Chopin, Delacroix, Callas, Proust) and the Pantheon (Voltaire, Hugo, Curie, Monnet, Dumas), I'm coming for you. I've sat on café terraces or park benches with views of the Eiffel Tower, reading for class and sipping café crème, so happy to be in the most beautiful city in the world. Life is pretty good, here and now. I like it. Classes are great, and I love Sciences Po already. I'd like to branch out somewhat from our Northwestern-English bubble, though there are so many amazing people in my program! Justine has offered to invite me to meet her friends, who go to another grande école in Paris. I'm also considering where to go for Toussaint, a long break I have from school at the end of October. If you have any suggestions, let me know! Or if you know any good Parisian jazz clubs.

And as Blair Waldorf says, you can't let anything prevent you from jumping into the belly of the beast, which is Paris. Gossip Girl premieres tonight, I'm a little excited.

Also, there are new photos below. I'm not a photographer, I'm sorry, and I don't take many, but hopefully you can get some idea of what I'm up to.

J'ai un problème...

Tomorrow there will be a huge strike against pension age reform, with two million Frenchmen expecting to take part, and I have to find some way to make it to class at 10:15... Google tells me it's about a 50 minute walk, which is a little ridiculous. Trying to take the metro will be too risky, with only a 1/3 of trains in service. Apparently the buses will still be up and running, so we'll see if I can figure out a route.

It's a huge no-no to be late to class, especially if you have a French professor. All this trouble because they're planning to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62! My goodness. Can't the French be happy with their 35 hour work weeks and 7 weeks of paid vacation?


Agrandir le plan

Nervous for nothing, I'm sure.

I have no idea where the snooty Parisian stereotype comes from. So far, I've made lots of 'friendships' on my way to or in Paris, and I've found that Parisians are willing to go out of their way to help you and befriend you, as long as you are polite. I sat next to a fellow study-abroader and sorority girl from SMU on the airplane, who was incredibly kind and empathetic and made my 8 hours aboard Delta flight 44 as pain-free as possible. After having trouble finding my airport shuttle, because I was directed to the wrong terminal for pick up, a AirFrance staff member named Ralib took care of everything for me, got another shuttle lined up straight away, and even gave me his phone number in case I need anything during my stay in Paris. The shuttle driver and I bonded over rush-hour traffic, and he even told me I was 'hyper-cool' for dealing with the delay. At my host-apartment on Avenue Victor Hugo, i've enjoyed the company of my Turkish host-mother, Sonia, who should brag about keeping a virtual United Nations of host-children, with deux Japonais, un Brésilien, et moi, l'Américaine. That being said, the others are leaving, since they are summer students. This means I get a room with a sweet view of La Tour Eiffel, but it also reminds me that I'm starting my SciencesPo orientation with a blank slate tomorrow.

I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates, since it is difficult to enjoy and navigate a city (especially at night) without friends. Plus it's just a bit lonely. At the same time, I am extremely nervous, which is bizarre, if you think about it, since most are Americans, all are Northwestern students, and many are Poli Sci majors, like me...

I put a lot of weight on first impressions, and I know that forming these friendships will be important, for the rest of my stay in Paris, for the next 2 years at Northwestern, and beyond. I will be spending the next 3.5 months with these people, and it kind of freaks me out that I've never met any of them before.

But if all else fails, and I'm just too socially inept to get along with people who are exactly like me, I have Justine, my French friend, who will hopefully introduce me to her school friends and give me the inside scoop on the city.

Either way, I'm sure I have plenty of long-lasting friendships on the horizon.