last night romain and a few friends took me, katy, and tara to a secret party, in a random, secluded building an hour outside of paris. the party was called "bloody party", which is a play on words that i dont quite get. i think its a french thing. in order to gain access to the party, one was required to buy a 10 euro ticket in advance, and bring a bottle of any hard liquor to the door. the bottle of liquor would then be surrendered to the bartender, and put into a big communal pot. mixers were supplied, and drinks were to be, purportedly, endless. but, as this post will soon show, nothing at this party was as it was planned to be.
romain came over at eight, at the same time as tara. his friends, gary and arnold, quickly followed. after multiple trips to the monoprix, we drank at our place for about an hour, before heading to the rer to meet up with some more people. paris is divided into two zones, which are traversed by both the metro and the rer. the areas outside of paris are accessible only by the rer, and are divided into three more zones. the center of paris is zone one, then zone two, continuing in that pattern through zone five. the party was at the very far end of zone five. it took us two hours to get to it, between transferring and waiting for trains. we spent half an hour searching for the place, as the "venue" had only been announced a few hours before. luckily, romain's iphone has gps, and we were able to finally find it. it was pouring rain, i was huddled in my hood, when we stumbled upon the gate. i was greeted by a panneau, with french words i did not recognize. the chainlink fence was reminiscent of an american junkyard, as was the long walkway leading into the darkness. i was immediately apprehensive. i followed the french leaders, only to be lead into a large queue. i was surprised, but not shocked. i had only waited in a queue once for a party, and that had been nowhere near as big as this. i quickly realized, upon being let inside, that this was not a party, but rather an underground rave.
from the outside, the building looked like a house. there were steps leading to the underground entrance, where a burly black man was stationed ominously, protecting the scantily-clad lady who was checking tickets and collecting alcohol. we waited in the queue for what seemed like hours, me growing ever more impatient as the rain poured down and romain was nowhere to be seen. he had left to go inside, and set up for his photography. his rapidly spoken french explaining that had been lost to me, however, and i felt i was doing the dirty work. eventually, he returned and we made it inside.
the coat check was a disaster. in france, one is required to check coats and bags before entering the club or party. thus the coat check is usually in the entryway, in a small room that can be patrolled by bouncers, who will not let you into the party if you have a purse or coat. the ridiculous thing about that, however, is that you have to pay to check your coat. i feel, that if its compulsory, it should be free. i, however, have no say in the matter. tara, katy, and i had luckily decided to only bring one bag so we shoved our scarves and gloves into the purse and checked out three coats. it was nine euro to check everything total, but luckily, the coat check man was decidedly stoned, and returned our ten euro to us, plus the one euro he had grabbed as change. this time, we were paid to check our coats. the coat check had run out of paper, and out of tape, and i could tell the stress was already wearing on the staff. the girl behind the counter looked frazzled, and frantic as she searched for another stylo or crayon, anything to write with. i gave them a pencil and the extra paper i had in the bottom of my purse, before proceeding into the party.
the house, which has seemed so small outside, quickly transformed. i had remarked upon the steel doors, and wondered what kind of house had such heavy, metal double doors. it quickly became apparent that this was not a house. we are still unsure of what exactly it was, but there is no way anybody could have lived there. it consisted of two huge rooms, one room on each floor. there were no walls, simply columns supporting the ceiling. the floor was concrete, no trace of tile or style. one half of the room was a makeshift dance floor, with a dj sat in one corner. the other half of the room was devoted to the bar, which was staffed by four people scrambling to take orders and pour drinks. the table was covered in white, bulk, store-brand juices, the floor turned white by the empty cartons, discarded carelessly in the rush. the back of the wall was lined with bottle after bottle of booze, as every single person who had entered had brought and given one. upon reaching the bar, a cup with more vodka than orange juice was thrust roughly into my hand, and a boy gruffly yelled, "gardez votre verre!" [keep your cup] the night had barely started, and already they were running out of cups. as the night went on, and people, predictably, lost their cups, the mood in the crowd changed. people were being denied alcohol, which is never acceptable when endless free drinks are promised.
i spent the first part of the night, fending off unwanted advances on the dance floor and trying to calm a drunk, jealous, and over zealously protective romain down. romain is from the south of france, where kind, overly-emotional men are bred. the party, however, was populated by parisiens. the thing about parisiens is this: they are predators. no other word describes them as well as that. and american woman, according to the stereotypes, are the perfect, easiest prey. word spread like wildfire that there were americans, we were the only non-french speaking people in the entire party. it was an underground rave, known only to a specific part of french sub-culture. so people began coming up to us, asking us if we were the americans. regardless of our status as "americans", we were women and that fact alone makes us vulnerable. the second you stepped onto the dance floor, even if all you wanted to do was bounce and fist-pump, four men would have circled you in a matter of an instant and began humping, so sure in their belief that because you existed, you would have sex with them. there was no way around it, and no way to fend it off.
i do not enjoy dancing. at all. but katy and tara do, and i wanted to stay with them. so, i attempted to dance by myself, and when things got too heavy, i would run and try to find romain. romain was off, in the beginning, doing his job and taking pictures. he was only mildly jealous/upset, and content to take pictures until one specific moment. we were speaking, and a boy i had never even seen before, came up behind me, spun me around, and started kissing me. he wouldnt let go until romain had pried him off. after that moment, romain stuck by my side through the whole night, handing off his camera to a friend and neglecting his job. romain and i went upstairs, where the toilets were and where the atmosphere was decidedly more calm. we stayed on the smoking floor, him chain-smoking his entire pack of cigarettes and dancing to the upstairs dj.
katy and tara, however, remained downstairs. i am unsure of what happened, but i have gathered that it was a mix of dancing, drinking straight vodka out of plastic cups, and making out on chairs.
the night started dragging, and i began to get sick. because of my stomach, i usually throw up at least once whenever i drink. not because i am drunk, but because of my diet. the french diet is meat and carb heavy, which i simply cannot digest. as a result, i am nauseous all day, every day. for the most part, when sober, i can control the need to throw up and stop myself. when i drink, however, all bets are off as my self-control is almost non-existant. this was my first time being legitimately drunk with romain, and he simply could not understand that being sick is common place for me. so after throwing up off the balcony, he ushered me outside. we found tara and katy, and began to leave.
unfortunately, everybody had the same idea as we did. it was seven o'clock in the morning, the party had been going since eleven. the crowd, consisting of multiple hundreds of drunk people, was ready to peace. people started flooding into the tiny entrance room, where the coat check was. only remember the problems the staff had been having all night? how unprepared they were for their jobs? this moment was no different. the weather outside was rainy and freezing, each person desperately wanted their coats. we all went to the coat check at once, and the staff couldnt handle it. romain ushered me outside while katy and tara waited for the coats. i sat spinning on the curb, until i realized katy had been gone for almost half an hour. freezing and sick, i climbed down the stairs to check on my roommate. what i found sobered me instantly. tara and katy were extremely upset, pushed up against each other while the crowd of waiting boys touched them inappropriately. i told them they could go outside, that i would take over waiting. after ten minutes of waiting, and no coats had been produced for anyone, the mood of the crowd was taking a decided turn for the worst. the agitated bouncers began yelling and shoving against the crowd, forcing more than half the people outside into the rain, without their coats. i managed to stay inside the tiny room, with the tickets, to try to get the coats for me and my friends. i was waiting patiently against a wall, trying to show how calm i was so they wouldnt kick me out, when all hell broke loose.
i was telling the bouncer "je suis calme, je reste ici" [i'm calm, i'll just stay here] so he wouldnt force me out, when the police arrived. they stormed into the tiny room with brilliant force and quickly, efficiently, petitioned off the coat check. they shut the big steel warehouse doors, sealing the rest of the people, hundreds of people who had been trying to get into the coat check room, inside the building. then they shut the door opposite, sealing everybody who had been pushed out by the bouncers outside and me, plus a few others, inside the coat check room. my friends and romain were now stuck outside. i was stuck inside the room, trying to stay warm and get the coats so we could leave.
about fifteen of us remained in the room. the staff, frantic and close to tears, began handing out the purses. thankfully, we had brought katys purse, which was bright yellow and i recognized it instantly. all of the sudden, the doors started shaking and rapid pounding sounds filled the room. the people who were trapped inside the warehouse desperately wanted out, so they were trying to break down the doors. at this time, i was huddled against a girl i had never met, in line for my coat. i was the second in line, and could see the hanger with our coats on it. i handed the paper to the girl, when the doors suddenly stopped shaking and everything got quiet.
then, i was no longer able to see. i started crying and coughing, roughly rubbing my eyes because i thought something was wrong with my contacts. everyone around me started screaming, but, i unaware of what was happening, stood there coughing, reaching for my coat. the doors to the outside flew open, letting in fresh air, which brought little relief to my burning throat and eyes. romain, who had been stuck outside in the confusion with katy and the rest of our group, managed to rush in to the room and pull me out, quickly putting a scarf over my mouth. just as we made it to the top of the stairs, the steel doors to the rest of the building burst open, a cloud of gas billowed out, and people came coughing, running, out of the room. the police then formed a wall and wouldnt allow anyone entrance into the building.
i barely noticed this. i couldn't speak, i couldn't breathe. i was doubled over, coughing and spitting onto the ground, shaking and crying. i had never experienced anything like that sensation. i couldnt see, my eyes were squeezed so tightly shut as tears poured down my cheeks. a few moments passed, after many huge gulps of fresh air, i was able to ask romain what had happened. he didnt know the words in english, and simply said "gaz." through gritted teeth.
the police had tear gassed the building. i hadnt been hit with the full force of it, as it had been set off to stop the people trapped inside from rioting. the second i realized i had been tear gassed, pride and exhilaration ran through me. i stood up straight, and between rapid breaths, smiled at romain. he didnt understand my excitement, in fact, no one did. i had heard so many stories about being tear-gassed, but i never thought i would actually experience it. i only wish it had been over something more morally and ethically substantial, like anti-racism or anti-war demonstrations.
eventually, a half hour later, the police began to let people back in, after the gas had dissipated, and the "staff" was able to arrange the coats so people could search through and find their own. first the girls, then the boys, in sets of five. so we werent able to leave the party until 8am. we didnt make it home until nine thirty.
i knew the french were prone to rioting, and that it was intense, but i never dreamed it would happen at a party over the coats! i still cant believe that night actually happened.
28.2.10
first day of work.
goal completed:
71, work in a foreign country.
69, teach in a foreign country.
*because i work with computer programmers [aka teenage computer hackers] i will not put the name of the company on my blog. i dont want my students, or my boss, to be able to find my blog that easily.
my job is to hold discussion courses with french-speaking students at a technical university in paris. french students at this school are required to double major and learn english. tests are held every year, and if the students dont pass the test, they are forced to retake the year. the students take real english courses throughout the week, which are taught by learned professors. my courses are practice, they are conversation courses to get them speaking, practicing, and enjoying learning english. there are three ways to do this, three types of courses i can give: reading, fun, or cultural. very few students take the reading courses, cause they have had those all week. some students will sign up for cultural, depending on what the activity is. most students sign up only for fun classes, which are usually held at bars or restaurants.
there are few rules at my work. the main two are don't be late and dont get intimate with your students. you cant add them on facebook, you cant exchange numbers, and you definitely cant hang out with them outside of your courses. only problem is your courses are like awkward first dates, with about ten people. we are pretty much the only girls they come into contact with, so they hit on you. constantly.
that is not to say the job isnt fun! my first class was a reading class, about five people signed up. we read "harrison bergeron" and "a perfect day for bananafish". i loved those stories, but im not sure they really appreciated them. we also played madlibs. my other reading courses havent filled. but my fun and culture courses have. we've been to museums, seen movies, sat in cafes, and hung out in bars. next week, we're going to have a course playing pool!
it really is a great job. the only downsides are the time required to think up the courses, and the constant fear of being fired. i have never really had a real job, even in america, so i wasnt sure if it was a good idea for me to work in paris. but i think i can handle this! it's just like nannying, only the boys are bigger and the boss is scarier.
71, work in a foreign country.
69, teach in a foreign country.
*because i work with computer programmers [aka teenage computer hackers] i will not put the name of the company on my blog. i dont want my students, or my boss, to be able to find my blog that easily.
my job is to hold discussion courses with french-speaking students at a technical university in paris. french students at this school are required to double major and learn english. tests are held every year, and if the students dont pass the test, they are forced to retake the year. the students take real english courses throughout the week, which are taught by learned professors. my courses are practice, they are conversation courses to get them speaking, practicing, and enjoying learning english. there are three ways to do this, three types of courses i can give: reading, fun, or cultural. very few students take the reading courses, cause they have had those all week. some students will sign up for cultural, depending on what the activity is. most students sign up only for fun classes, which are usually held at bars or restaurants.
there are few rules at my work. the main two are don't be late and dont get intimate with your students. you cant add them on facebook, you cant exchange numbers, and you definitely cant hang out with them outside of your courses. only problem is your courses are like awkward first dates, with about ten people. we are pretty much the only girls they come into contact with, so they hit on you. constantly.
that is not to say the job isnt fun! my first class was a reading class, about five people signed up. we read "harrison bergeron" and "a perfect day for bananafish". i loved those stories, but im not sure they really appreciated them. we also played madlibs. my other reading courses havent filled. but my fun and culture courses have. we've been to museums, seen movies, sat in cafes, and hung out in bars. next week, we're going to have a course playing pool!
it really is a great job. the only downsides are the time required to think up the courses, and the constant fear of being fired. i have never really had a real job, even in america, so i wasnt sure if it was a good idea for me to work in paris. but i think i can handle this! it's just like nannying, only the boys are bigger and the boss is scarier.
first date.
i went on my first date in paris! actually, if im going to be completely honest, it was my first legitimate date since 2007. my definition of legitimate is this: with someone i actually reciprocate liking, doing something remotely date-like that is not a party (america) or a pub (england), usually there is tentative hand holding, and he actually asks if he can kiss me.
a few weekends ago, i met a french boy named romain at le social club. we talked during the night, in a drunken mix of frenglish. we exchanged numbers, and the very next morning, i received one text, simply reading ":)". with giddy excitement, i realized i had no clue how to respond. should i respond in french? would he understand if i responded in english? met with the same dilemma i assume he had faced, i decided imitation would be the best route. i simply sent back ";)". a few minutes later, i received a text with the url of his photography portfolio. i responded in kind, sending him a link to this blog. at a loss of what else to say, communication ended.
the next afternoon, i woke up to a text asking me, in english, what i had planned for the day.
"j'ai rien à faire. [i have nothing to do]" i responded in french, after googling it to make sure it was correct.
"you want see me? :)" he asked, continuing on in his broken english.
"ouais, quand?" [yeah, when?] i stubbornly, simply, said, continuing on in my insistence to learn french. eventually, he caught on, and we began texting only in french, me resorting to using random english words, when i was unsure of their french translation. we managed to set a time, however, and he came over to my house and took me on a walking tour of paris.
now, to a parisian, a walking tour means shopping. this i did not know. i hate shopping, i rarely do it. but it was actually quite fun. he showed me where the best shops were, which stores were thrift, and where the best end-of-soldes were. at the end of the night, even i had bought a pair of shoes [oxford lace-up flats. i'm in love.] my shoes were black. his were neon purple vans. [its a trend that is still continuing to this day.] he also pointed out the architecture, the art galleries, the restaurants, and the best places to go out.
after the walking tour, he went grocery shopping and came back to my house, and cooked me a real french dinner. it was turkey, wrapped in pork, wrapped in fat, boiled with potatoes and tomatoes. it was the richest meal i have ever eaten, and it was so good. we have been exchanging meals ever since, him showing me french breakfast and dinner, me making breakfast burritos, quesadillas, enchiladas, and french toast [which, ironically, they dont eat over here!]
he is a documentary photographer and sushi delivery boy. monday night, he had a gig to document a secret "skins party". he invited me along, but i decided a party that didnt start until midnight, or end until seven, wasnt the best idea on a monday. saturday he is documenting another secret party, this one called a "bloody party". katy and i are hoping to go to that, if he can get us tickets. then, the third week of march, he has been commissioned to belgium to take photos. i might go along on that one, depending on if i have my carte-de-sejour or not, which is my legal permission to leave the country of france.
much to the annoyance of my roommate [sorry, katy!!!], he has spent the majority of the last few weeks at our place. he comes "home" after work, usually bringing sushi or kebabs. we go grocery shopping, because he is a boy and eats all of our food. we go sightseeing, we went to see l'arc de triomphe and the eiffel tower on the night it snowed the heaviest. it was absolutely beautiful. he took me to a movie and dinner, which was avatar and mcdonalds. [i had told him the day before that i missed america, so he tried to recreate it. the frenchies have a very skewed perception of what americans value. i didnt have the heart to tell him that "macdo" is a last resort for me. i just ate my chicken nuggets with a smile.] he even came over on valentines day and we watched sappy romantic movies. we stay in most nights, trading english and french phrases, trying to understand each other. he knows all the good parties, all the good clubs, and all the good bands [especially the techno bands]. his involvement in my life has definitely opened up a side of paris i never would have had access to. and with his international "career", it might have opened up parts of europe as well.
beyond that, he is just amazing to have around. i am used to brooding writers and painters, not social photographers who make jokes and smile and dont understand how i can just wake up sad some days. the latter is so refreshing. i'm learning you dont have to be miserable to be an artist.
the language barrier causes problems, but not as many as you would expect. at first, i felt like a different person around him. i am a different person while speaking french, than i usually am when speaking english. but as the days go on, i feel more and more like myself. maybe i am just incorporating my new found french self into my old american self. that is, after all, what i came here to do. i can tell that he is a different person when speaking english. even the tenor of his voice changes, when speaking english, his voice gets softer and higher. his french voice is rumbly and deep, a little earthy and quite disconcerting. he gains more energy when speaking french to his friends, which i would never have thought possible. he is usually, even in english, an intense personality.
however, there are some problems with dating a frenchman. i put my foot in it one day, so bad, that i literally googled "how to date a french guy". the results were informative. so many puzzling things romain had been doing were instantly explained.
i had noticed that romain never went more than six waking hours without sending me at least one text. usually, it was four or five successive ones. he never worries about who called last, or overcalling, and especially not dubs-texting. at first, it was off-putting. i enjoy the chase, i enjoy the game, but i have come to enjoy the honesty and the comfort of this approach. my roommate was having problems with an american boy here, they were playing the "whose turn is it??" game for so long that the game just ended.
according to google, french boys have this open approach because if they dont make contact every eight hours, french women will think they are not interested and date someone else. so, romain, used to dating french women, has now turned his approach on this american woman.
another thing i learned is that french people arent afraid of offending. french women are, in fact, afraid to be pleasing. they will purposefully be bitches and start arguments, so you see they have substance and something to say. in france, when someone is cold to you, it has no import and is commonplace. in america, when someone is cold to you, it usually means they are either mad at you or they dont like you. this was our first real cultural misunderstanding. katy got mad at romain, for invading her kitchen and simply being around too often. she yelled at him, was very cold, and any american would have known she was upset. romain did not, he didnt even notice a difference. i had to take him outside to explain how upset katy was. he was genuinely shocked and ran upstairs to confront katy right away. i have never seen such an open confrontation before. the french air out their dirty laundry, unafraid to offend and taking no offence. she called him annoying multiple times and he didnt even wince. it was amazing to watch.
some of the results werent as pleasing. in fact, they were the opposite of what i had been thinking and explained why romain had become so upset when i mentioned that i didnt want to be exclusive. in french culture, kissing means everything and sex means nothing. in american culture, kissing means nothing and sex means absolutely everything. in france, if you have sex, its not a big deal. but if you kiss, publicly, soberly, and when not part of sex, dating other people is no longer okay and you are officially in a relationship. after a few mild arguments, and one big altercation in front of a velib stop, we agreed to be official. eeeek.
we are quite different, it is terribly hard but utterly captivating. he speaks french, i speak english. he is completely french, i am rather american. he wears the brightest colors made by man [he has that nerdy hip-hop style], i very rarely wear anything brighter than light grey [i have that urban-camouflage, blend-in-with-the-buildings, style.] but the differences, i feel, are superficial and might make this more interesting!
we'll see how this goes! i figure, i am in the romance capital of the world. it would be a crime not to take advantage of it.
a few weekends ago, i met a french boy named romain at le social club. we talked during the night, in a drunken mix of frenglish. we exchanged numbers, and the very next morning, i received one text, simply reading ":)". with giddy excitement, i realized i had no clue how to respond. should i respond in french? would he understand if i responded in english? met with the same dilemma i assume he had faced, i decided imitation would be the best route. i simply sent back ";)". a few minutes later, i received a text with the url of his photography portfolio. i responded in kind, sending him a link to this blog. at a loss of what else to say, communication ended.
the next afternoon, i woke up to a text asking me, in english, what i had planned for the day.
"j'ai rien à faire. [i have nothing to do]" i responded in french, after googling it to make sure it was correct.
"you want see me? :)" he asked, continuing on in his broken english.
"ouais, quand?" [yeah, when?] i stubbornly, simply, said, continuing on in my insistence to learn french. eventually, he caught on, and we began texting only in french, me resorting to using random english words, when i was unsure of their french translation. we managed to set a time, however, and he came over to my house and took me on a walking tour of paris.
now, to a parisian, a walking tour means shopping. this i did not know. i hate shopping, i rarely do it. but it was actually quite fun. he showed me where the best shops were, which stores were thrift, and where the best end-of-soldes were. at the end of the night, even i had bought a pair of shoes [oxford lace-up flats. i'm in love.] my shoes were black. his were neon purple vans. [its a trend that is still continuing to this day.] he also pointed out the architecture, the art galleries, the restaurants, and the best places to go out.
after the walking tour, he went grocery shopping and came back to my house, and cooked me a real french dinner. it was turkey, wrapped in pork, wrapped in fat, boiled with potatoes and tomatoes. it was the richest meal i have ever eaten, and it was so good. we have been exchanging meals ever since, him showing me french breakfast and dinner, me making breakfast burritos, quesadillas, enchiladas, and french toast [which, ironically, they dont eat over here!]
he is a documentary photographer and sushi delivery boy. monday night, he had a gig to document a secret "skins party". he invited me along, but i decided a party that didnt start until midnight, or end until seven, wasnt the best idea on a monday. saturday he is documenting another secret party, this one called a "bloody party". katy and i are hoping to go to that, if he can get us tickets. then, the third week of march, he has been commissioned to belgium to take photos. i might go along on that one, depending on if i have my carte-de-sejour or not, which is my legal permission to leave the country of france.
much to the annoyance of my roommate [sorry, katy!!!], he has spent the majority of the last few weeks at our place. he comes "home" after work, usually bringing sushi or kebabs. we go grocery shopping, because he is a boy and eats all of our food. we go sightseeing, we went to see l'arc de triomphe and the eiffel tower on the night it snowed the heaviest. it was absolutely beautiful. he took me to a movie and dinner, which was avatar and mcdonalds. [i had told him the day before that i missed america, so he tried to recreate it. the frenchies have a very skewed perception of what americans value. i didnt have the heart to tell him that "macdo" is a last resort for me. i just ate my chicken nuggets with a smile.] he even came over on valentines day and we watched sappy romantic movies. we stay in most nights, trading english and french phrases, trying to understand each other. he knows all the good parties, all the good clubs, and all the good bands [especially the techno bands]. his involvement in my life has definitely opened up a side of paris i never would have had access to. and with his international "career", it might have opened up parts of europe as well.
beyond that, he is just amazing to have around. i am used to brooding writers and painters, not social photographers who make jokes and smile and dont understand how i can just wake up sad some days. the latter is so refreshing. i'm learning you dont have to be miserable to be an artist.
the language barrier causes problems, but not as many as you would expect. at first, i felt like a different person around him. i am a different person while speaking french, than i usually am when speaking english. but as the days go on, i feel more and more like myself. maybe i am just incorporating my new found french self into my old american self. that is, after all, what i came here to do. i can tell that he is a different person when speaking english. even the tenor of his voice changes, when speaking english, his voice gets softer and higher. his french voice is rumbly and deep, a little earthy and quite disconcerting. he gains more energy when speaking french to his friends, which i would never have thought possible. he is usually, even in english, an intense personality.
however, there are some problems with dating a frenchman. i put my foot in it one day, so bad, that i literally googled "how to date a french guy". the results were informative. so many puzzling things romain had been doing were instantly explained.
i had noticed that romain never went more than six waking hours without sending me at least one text. usually, it was four or five successive ones. he never worries about who called last, or overcalling, and especially not dubs-texting. at first, it was off-putting. i enjoy the chase, i enjoy the game, but i have come to enjoy the honesty and the comfort of this approach. my roommate was having problems with an american boy here, they were playing the "whose turn is it??" game for so long that the game just ended.
according to google, french boys have this open approach because if they dont make contact every eight hours, french women will think they are not interested and date someone else. so, romain, used to dating french women, has now turned his approach on this american woman.
another thing i learned is that french people arent afraid of offending. french women are, in fact, afraid to be pleasing. they will purposefully be bitches and start arguments, so you see they have substance and something to say. in france, when someone is cold to you, it has no import and is commonplace. in america, when someone is cold to you, it usually means they are either mad at you or they dont like you. this was our first real cultural misunderstanding. katy got mad at romain, for invading her kitchen and simply being around too often. she yelled at him, was very cold, and any american would have known she was upset. romain did not, he didnt even notice a difference. i had to take him outside to explain how upset katy was. he was genuinely shocked and ran upstairs to confront katy right away. i have never seen such an open confrontation before. the french air out their dirty laundry, unafraid to offend and taking no offence. she called him annoying multiple times and he didnt even wince. it was amazing to watch.
some of the results werent as pleasing. in fact, they were the opposite of what i had been thinking and explained why romain had become so upset when i mentioned that i didnt want to be exclusive. in french culture, kissing means everything and sex means nothing. in american culture, kissing means nothing and sex means absolutely everything. in france, if you have sex, its not a big deal. but if you kiss, publicly, soberly, and when not part of sex, dating other people is no longer okay and you are officially in a relationship. after a few mild arguments, and one big altercation in front of a velib stop, we agreed to be official. eeeek.
we are quite different, it is terribly hard but utterly captivating. he speaks french, i speak english. he is completely french, i am rather american. he wears the brightest colors made by man [he has that nerdy hip-hop style], i very rarely wear anything brighter than light grey [i have that urban-camouflage, blend-in-with-the-buildings, style.] but the differences, i feel, are superficial and might make this more interesting!
we'll see how this goes! i figure, i am in the romance capital of the world. it would be a crime not to take advantage of it.
first day of university classes.
i was supposed to begin school last week. but i was petrified. which is a very new feeling for me. those of you who have been following this blog know how i approach new places and new situations: with complete excitement and desire.
however, the new experience that was my first day of french university absolutely terrified me. usually, it is laziness that stops me, procrastination that keeps me from accomplishing what i need to do. but last week it was fear in its purest form. i was afraid of finding the room, of wandering the dreary campus of nanterre in search for a poorly marked room. i was afraid of walking into the classroom, afraid of having to ask if i were in the right place, and afraid of the foreign eyes on me. but, above all, i was afraid of speaking, i was afraid of failing. so i allowed myself a few rare moments of indulgence and didnt go to class. the first day, i consciously decided to sleep through it, which wasnt actually sleeping, it was hiding under my covers and squeezing my eyes shut until they watered, pretending i was alseep. the next day, i got out of bed, rode the hour train ride to my uni, walked all the way across campus and couldnt even find the building my class was in. i gave up quickly, and returned home with my tail between my legs. the final school day of the week, i "slept through" [hid from] my first course but managed to successfully attend my last class. except that was the one for micefa students and it didnt scare me at all. it barely counts as a course.
so this week, i was determined, would be different. yesterday, i woke myself up, convinced myself to go, and actually found the classroom. only to find it it empty with no note or any explanation. i wandered around for another ten minutes, conceded defeat, and went home. so today, i pumped myself up listening to my roommate's hip-hop and arrived at my classroom half an hour early. i even mustered up the courage to ask if i was in the right place, although i couldnt manage much more than that.
however, my fears were unfounded. yes, i couldnt understand a word anybody said, specifically the students. yes, i have absolutely no idea what is required for the course. yes, i am the only english-speaking person in the class. but everyone was nice to me, everyone repeated what they said whenever i asked, people even offered me suggestions and pretended not to notice when i stared blankly but said i understood.
that is not to say class is anything like i was expecting. the professor spoke so quickly, and often not while looking up, so i cant even lip-read. the majority of the class is discussion and presentations, and i understand the students even less, with their rapid speech and tendency to mumble. but i am hoping if i brush up on the subject matter, and pre-read all the necessary articles, i will do well.
i am not so worried anymore. i have told romain that we will only be speaking french from now on. i understand french when i am not nervous. that changes the second i get apprehensive; the amount of my comprehension plummets drastically. hopefully practicing with him, and his friends, will get my comfort level up to the point where i can actually participate in a lecture discussion.
but, even if i fail, i will definitely know french by the end of this year. and that is the whole purpose behind being here!
however, the new experience that was my first day of french university absolutely terrified me. usually, it is laziness that stops me, procrastination that keeps me from accomplishing what i need to do. but last week it was fear in its purest form. i was afraid of finding the room, of wandering the dreary campus of nanterre in search for a poorly marked room. i was afraid of walking into the classroom, afraid of having to ask if i were in the right place, and afraid of the foreign eyes on me. but, above all, i was afraid of speaking, i was afraid of failing. so i allowed myself a few rare moments of indulgence and didnt go to class. the first day, i consciously decided to sleep through it, which wasnt actually sleeping, it was hiding under my covers and squeezing my eyes shut until they watered, pretending i was alseep. the next day, i got out of bed, rode the hour train ride to my uni, walked all the way across campus and couldnt even find the building my class was in. i gave up quickly, and returned home with my tail between my legs. the final school day of the week, i "slept through" [hid from] my first course but managed to successfully attend my last class. except that was the one for micefa students and it didnt scare me at all. it barely counts as a course.
so this week, i was determined, would be different. yesterday, i woke myself up, convinced myself to go, and actually found the classroom. only to find it it empty with no note or any explanation. i wandered around for another ten minutes, conceded defeat, and went home. so today, i pumped myself up listening to my roommate's hip-hop and arrived at my classroom half an hour early. i even mustered up the courage to ask if i was in the right place, although i couldnt manage much more than that.
however, my fears were unfounded. yes, i couldnt understand a word anybody said, specifically the students. yes, i have absolutely no idea what is required for the course. yes, i am the only english-speaking person in the class. but everyone was nice to me, everyone repeated what they said whenever i asked, people even offered me suggestions and pretended not to notice when i stared blankly but said i understood.
that is not to say class is anything like i was expecting. the professor spoke so quickly, and often not while looking up, so i cant even lip-read. the majority of the class is discussion and presentations, and i understand the students even less, with their rapid speech and tendency to mumble. but i am hoping if i brush up on the subject matter, and pre-read all the necessary articles, i will do well.
i am not so worried anymore. i have told romain that we will only be speaking french from now on. i understand french when i am not nervous. that changes the second i get apprehensive; the amount of my comprehension plummets drastically. hopefully practicing with him, and his friends, will get my comfort level up to the point where i can actually participate in a lecture discussion.
but, even if i fail, i will definitely know french by the end of this year. and that is the whole purpose behind being here!
25.2.10
thankful for...
ravelympics.
dreams in french.
the monoprix.
shakespeare & co.
american breakfast in paris.
secret parties.
[week twelve.]
dreams in french.
the monoprix.
shakespeare & co.
american breakfast in paris.
secret parties.
[week twelve.]
24.2.10
diversions and directions.
paris has been beautiful. it is a tumultuous mix of emotions, a combustion of depression and elation. my days are whirlwinds of lazy, fear-filled, excitement, and i get almost nothing done. i am completely and utterly distracted every second of every day. although i know now that paris is not my city, in the way that london was my city, i am still relishing my time and counting down the days until i know french and have my own group of friends.
i was told the easiest way to learn french is to have a boy who will teach it to you. so i have found my very own frenchie, who spends all day correcting my pronunciation and laughing at my oh-so-formal text messages, responding with 'we would never say that, but i understand.' demands on my time are great, it seems i devote every minute to work, school, or friends, when all i truly want to be doing is writing, knitting, or painting. the desire to be creative is weighty in this city, it constricts my lungs, settles like lead in my stomach, and pulses uneasy adrenaline through my veins. perhaps it is the history, all the great artists that stopped over here. i have come to realize that this is my stop-over, this is the step which leads to my actual life. while in london, i became interested in mixing charcoal drawings, canvas paintings, and photography prints with fiber. i think i am seriously going to explore that idea during my time here. but more of that later.
today i realized that i have been severely lagging in my blogging. i am now two weeks behind in my weekly updates, and countless events have transpired which have yet to be blogged. even further, my 101 in 1001 has been neglected for quite some time. to organize my thoughts, i will now take a page out of my sister's blog. this is what i need to post:
101 in 1001:
completion of goal 12, learn how to needle felt.
progress on goal 22, finish one knitting project a month for a year.
completion of goal 46, study abroad in london.
completion of goal 69, teach in a foreign country.
completion of goal 71, work in a foreign country.
posts:
weekly update for weeks five and six.
first day of work.
first day of classes.
first date in france.
first few days of my venture back into writing.
first three tattoo designs.
i was told the easiest way to learn french is to have a boy who will teach it to you. so i have found my very own frenchie, who spends all day correcting my pronunciation and laughing at my oh-so-formal text messages, responding with 'we would never say that, but i understand.' demands on my time are great, it seems i devote every minute to work, school, or friends, when all i truly want to be doing is writing, knitting, or painting. the desire to be creative is weighty in this city, it constricts my lungs, settles like lead in my stomach, and pulses uneasy adrenaline through my veins. perhaps it is the history, all the great artists that stopped over here. i have come to realize that this is my stop-over, this is the step which leads to my actual life. while in london, i became interested in mixing charcoal drawings, canvas paintings, and photography prints with fiber. i think i am seriously going to explore that idea during my time here. but more of that later.
today i realized that i have been severely lagging in my blogging. i am now two weeks behind in my weekly updates, and countless events have transpired which have yet to be blogged. even further, my 101 in 1001 has been neglected for quite some time. to organize my thoughts, i will now take a page out of my sister's blog. this is what i need to post:
101 in 1001:
completion of goal 12, learn how to needle felt.
progress on goal 22, finish one knitting project a month for a year.
completion of goal 46, study abroad in london.
completion of goal 69, teach in a foreign country.
completion of goal 71, work in a foreign country.
posts:
weekly update for weeks five and six.
first day of work.
first day of classes.
first date in france.
first few days of my venture back into writing.
first three tattoo designs.
22.2.10
cowardice and a return to writing: week six.
23 weeks left...
daily updates:
16 february. [tuesday] i had class, but i was too scared to get out of bed..
17 february. [wednesday] i actually tried to go to class, but couldnt, for the life of me, find the building! turns out, its on as separate part of campus, that i didnt know existed.
18 february. [thursday] i had my first day of art history class. it was a course for exchange students, and it went better than i was thinking it would. it actually got me excited to for my real courses.
that night was drinking night with the hashers! lauren and i headed to the banlieues for a house party there. once that died, we all went back to my place to meet katy. romain came over, we got in our most epic fight, and decided to be official. it was an emotional night for all invovled...
19 february. [friday] no idea what i did...
20 february. [saturday] i had my first writing group. i didnt read anything, or contribute much at all, but it felt really good to be back around writers again. i'm going to try to go more often. i used to have a writing group in high school, but i stopped writing completely when i got to college. i figure it's time to get back into it. so ive been writing almost daily now, in my little notebook. i am, when things settle down, eventually going to write a page a day for ninety days, and see how much i progress. i just need to start writing again, it doesnt matter the quality or content.
21 february. [sunday] i honestly have no idea what i did... probably watching movies with katy.
22 february. [monday] i had my first spoken-word night. i am definitely going to read something i wrote. if i can make it ever again, i usually am teaching courses at that exact time...
weekly highlights:
dates: 16-22 february [days 41-47]
sights seen: no sight-seeing this week...
something new: started uni in paris!
someone new: all the writers!
somewhere new: i went to my uni, nanterre!
what i miss: my home university. courses in english.
what i love: writing. english bookstores in paris.
what i'm not so sure of: my french university...
daily updates:
16 february. [tuesday] i had class, but i was too scared to get out of bed..
17 february. [wednesday] i actually tried to go to class, but couldnt, for the life of me, find the building! turns out, its on as separate part of campus, that i didnt know existed.
18 february. [thursday] i had my first day of art history class. it was a course for exchange students, and it went better than i was thinking it would. it actually got me excited to for my real courses.
that night was drinking night with the hashers! lauren and i headed to the banlieues for a house party there. once that died, we all went back to my place to meet katy. romain came over, we got in our most epic fight, and decided to be official. it was an emotional night for all invovled...
19 february. [friday] no idea what i did...
20 february. [saturday] i had my first writing group. i didnt read anything, or contribute much at all, but it felt really good to be back around writers again. i'm going to try to go more often. i used to have a writing group in high school, but i stopped writing completely when i got to college. i figure it's time to get back into it. so ive been writing almost daily now, in my little notebook. i am, when things settle down, eventually going to write a page a day for ninety days, and see how much i progress. i just need to start writing again, it doesnt matter the quality or content.
21 february. [sunday] i honestly have no idea what i did... probably watching movies with katy.
22 february. [monday] i had my first spoken-word night. i am definitely going to read something i wrote. if i can make it ever again, i usually am teaching courses at that exact time...
weekly highlights:
dates: 16-22 february [days 41-47]
sights seen: no sight-seeing this week...
something new: started uni in paris!
someone new: all the writers!
somewhere new: i went to my uni, nanterre!
what i miss: my home university. courses in english.
what i love: writing. english bookstores in paris.
what i'm not so sure of: my french university...
18.2.10
thankful for...
the first day of school.
the first day of work.
late-night walks in the city.
the deep conversations that occur on those walks.
nights spent teaching knitting and drinking wine.
cineconcerts.
[week eleven.]
the first day of work.
late-night walks in the city.
the deep conversations that occur on those walks.
nights spent teaching knitting and drinking wine.
cineconcerts.
[week eleven.]
15.2.10
couch surfing, cooking, and running for beer: week five.
if you can't cook naked by it, don't put your phone near it.
[ian pffeiffer.]
24 weeks left...
daily updates:
8 february [monday] i went on my first date with romain, blogged about here.
9 february [tuesday] i had my first day of english classes, blogged about here. that night, the girls and i tried to go to a spoken word poetry night. we got the days confused, however, so we ended up just getting a couple pints at a nearby punk rock pub. we were the only girls, when we walked in, the smell of sweat assaulted us. but it was actually really fun. it was nice not to be preyed upon and be ignored instead.
10 february. [wednesday]
it snowed really heavily in the morning, it was beautiful to watch, but i definitely did not want to get out of bed. unfortunately, i had my second english course, so i couldnt play in the snow with the excited parisians who were building snowmen and throwing snowballs. reluctantly, i boarded the tram and made my way to the school. upon arrival, i was immediately presented with a problem. there had been a mix-up, my class had been scheduled at the same time as another. that teacher ended up with my student, and i ended up with hers. i was forced to tell my boss, who reacted with characteristic anger and yelling. but we got it sorted out, and the student and i went to a cafe. i had a cafe au lait, and he took a coke. we discussed the differences between the states and france. he was the first actual frenchie i have met that rejects american things, like movies and music. excluding, of course, our beverages and our contribution to the computing world.
that night, romain came over, and as it was still snowing heavily, we decided to go on a walk. we went to see l'arc de triomphe and the eiffel tower. in the snow, they were magical. the snow improved the things that hadnt impressed me before, and i felt so lucky to be experiencing paris this way.
11 february. [thursday] our couch surfer came to stay with us! his name was ian, we met him in the american bookstore. he was taking a year off school to travel the world, after having his heart broken. romain came over that night too, and we all drank and went out together.
12 february. [friday] we slept in, and lauren made us breakfast. i had to teach an english course, my first one at a bar! romain came over with a few of his friends, so we had six people in our apartment! the situation got a little tense, katy was cooking and in edge, mentioned in this post. so we went our separate ways for the rest of the night.
13 february. [saturday] more sleeping in, more drunken debauchery.
14 february. [sunday] valentine's day! we went on a valentines day hash run, on the outskirts of paris. i was dressed rather inappropriately... everyone had on jogging/running clothes. i wore a miniskirt, tights, and my oxford flats. definitely not prepared. but it was great fun. if you havent been on a hash run, i suggest you go!
that night, katy downloaded 'when harry met sally'. romain came over and we all watched it. i had never seen it before, and it was soo good. only this was the first time i realized romain and i dont speak the same langauge. we forgot to download it with french subtitles, so he couldnt understand the movie! instead of watching it, he just played with his iphone. now, we know that our movies must always be subtitled, either for him or for me.
ian got food poisoning, so he spent his last night with us huddled against the heater. it was so sad.
15 february. [monday] i taught an english course during the day, and at night romain came over and i made him enchiladas, his first taste of mexican food. luckily, they were delicious. i'd never made them before, so i was a bit worried!
weekly highlights:
dates: 8-15 february [days 33-40]
sights seen: l'arc de triomphe :D
something new: i taught a class!!!
someone new: countless :) [i love how many people i meet and converse with!]
somewhere new: l'arc de triomphe!
what i love: drinking. the corner bakery. baking. speaking french.
what i miss: home. my university. sleeping.
what i am not so sure of: starting classes.
[ian pffeiffer.]
daily updates:
8 february [monday] i went on my first date with romain, blogged about here.
9 february [tuesday] i had my first day of english classes, blogged about here. that night, the girls and i tried to go to a spoken word poetry night. we got the days confused, however, so we ended up just getting a couple pints at a nearby punk rock pub. we were the only girls, when we walked in, the smell of sweat assaulted us. but it was actually really fun. it was nice not to be preyed upon and be ignored instead.
10 february. [wednesday]
it snowed really heavily in the morning, it was beautiful to watch, but i definitely did not want to get out of bed. unfortunately, i had my second english course, so i couldnt play in the snow with the excited parisians who were building snowmen and throwing snowballs. reluctantly, i boarded the tram and made my way to the school. upon arrival, i was immediately presented with a problem. there had been a mix-up, my class had been scheduled at the same time as another. that teacher ended up with my student, and i ended up with hers. i was forced to tell my boss, who reacted with characteristic anger and yelling. but we got it sorted out, and the student and i went to a cafe. i had a cafe au lait, and he took a coke. we discussed the differences between the states and france. he was the first actual frenchie i have met that rejects american things, like movies and music. excluding, of course, our beverages and our contribution to the computing world.
that night, romain came over, and as it was still snowing heavily, we decided to go on a walk. we went to see l'arc de triomphe and the eiffel tower. in the snow, they were magical. the snow improved the things that hadnt impressed me before, and i felt so lucky to be experiencing paris this way.
11 february. [thursday] our couch surfer came to stay with us! his name was ian, we met him in the american bookstore. he was taking a year off school to travel the world, after having his heart broken. romain came over that night too, and we all drank and went out together.
12 february. [friday] we slept in, and lauren made us breakfast. i had to teach an english course, my first one at a bar! romain came over with a few of his friends, so we had six people in our apartment! the situation got a little tense, katy was cooking and in edge, mentioned in this post. so we went our separate ways for the rest of the night.
13 february. [saturday] more sleeping in, more drunken debauchery.
14 february. [sunday] valentine's day! we went on a valentines day hash run, on the outskirts of paris. i was dressed rather inappropriately... everyone had on jogging/running clothes. i wore a miniskirt, tights, and my oxford flats. definitely not prepared. but it was great fun. if you havent been on a hash run, i suggest you go!
that night, katy downloaded 'when harry met sally'. romain came over and we all watched it. i had never seen it before, and it was soo good. only this was the first time i realized romain and i dont speak the same langauge. we forgot to download it with french subtitles, so he couldnt understand the movie! instead of watching it, he just played with his iphone. now, we know that our movies must always be subtitled, either for him or for me.
ian got food poisoning, so he spent his last night with us huddled against the heater. it was so sad.
15 february. [monday] i taught an english course during the day, and at night romain came over and i made him enchiladas, his first taste of mexican food. luckily, they were delicious. i'd never made them before, so i was a bit worried!
weekly highlights:
dates: 8-15 february [days 33-40]
sights seen: l'arc de triomphe :D
something new: i taught a class!!!
someone new: countless :) [i love how many people i meet and converse with!]
somewhere new: l'arc de triomphe!
what i love: drinking. the corner bakery. baking. speaking french.
what i miss: home. my university. sleeping.
what i am not so sure of: starting classes.
12.2.10
good morning gaga, montparnasty, and spankrock: week four.
25 weeks left...
daily updates:
1 february. errands...
2 february. errands...
3 february. katy and i are going to separate schools. it'll be great so we can meet totally different people and not rely on each other so much. but her school offered a walking tour of montmarte, so she invited me along. we met some erasmus kids, and saw the sights from amelie.
after the tour, a few of us went and got some very cheap champagne called "montparnasse", which we have affectionately termed "montparnasty". we each drank our own bottle, split a bottle of wine, and had some vodka. we then went to the eiffel tower and started singing songs. it was the first time i had seen it, and it really is quite impressive when lit up.
4 february. lauren, katy, and i went to a greek restaurant. we got an appetizer, an entree, a dessert, and a glass of wine for only ten euro! it was amazing food! afterwards, we went to a canadian bookstore and shakespeare & co. we bought some books, went back to laurens, drank some wine, and read short stories out loud.
5 february. katy and i headed over to tara's, to drink some in belleville. we invited some other micefa and erasmus kids, packing tara's ridiculously large one bedroom flat with an inordinate amount of people. we drank our fill of monparnasty, and got a bit bellig. i argued with katy's boy, ben, for a bit over race. he had already insulted me once, the weekend before, by telling me that the last thing black people suffered through was slavery and the civil rights movement was simply an overreaction. he also stated that i was ignorant for not using the n-word. because of his level of intoxication, i had decided to forgive him, for katy's sake. but that night, he had decided to debate that race was 'cultural', and since his godmother was black, that he [this white upper-middle-class male] was thus actually black and 'understood the struggle better' than the four minority women with whom he was arguing. needless to say, shit got real, so we swept it under the rug and decided to go out around belleville. we went to a bar, got some really cheap drinks, and met a couple of frenchies! didnt get home until the sun was up, after a four mile long walk home.
ben, however, is no longer welcome in my house.
6 february. the irish girls came over to our flat, as well as tara and leslie. we pregamed a bit before going out to 'le social club', for an electro-hip-hop show. it was actually really good, i missed the fist-pumping i had done in england. aoifa, being irish, knew just what i wanted and we danced the whole night! it was great! we didnt get home until the metros opened up again!
7 february. i had my first day of work. well, night rather. i now teach english to french computer programmers. our work had a superbowl party. it was an epic game, so exciting to watch and even more fun to explain. however, there were no commercials! i missed them.
weekly highlights:
dates: 1-7 february [days 26-32]
sights seen: paris!
someone new: countless!! :)
somewhere new: still exploring paris! this time, it was monmarte.
something new: i started work, i got paid to drink beer, eat crepes, and watch american football. in paris.
what i love: baguette à l'ancienne. montparnasty. the underground clubs. paris.
what i miss: almost nothing this week.
what i am not so sure about: starting work. starting classes.
11.2.10
thankful for...
nights spent procrastinating.
the legal ability to work.
friends to play in the snow with.
friends to stay up all night with.
friends to make breakfast with.
friends to speak french with.
couch surfers.
[week ten.]
8.2.10
4.2.10
thankful for...
montparnasty.
people met at american bookstores.
drunken trips to the eiffel tower.
student pubs.
baby tights and little girl skirts bought at h&m.
drinking champagne out of a plastic bag.
nights spent fist-pumping to techno hip-hop.
getting into shows for free.
text messages sent in frenglish.
[week nine.]
people met at american bookstores.
drunken trips to the eiffel tower.
student pubs.
baby tights and little girl skirts bought at h&m.
drinking champagne out of a plastic bag.
nights spent fist-pumping to techno hip-hop.
getting into shows for free.
text messages sent in frenglish.
[week nine.]
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