six months abroad.
spring.
anniversaire celebrations.
clean apartments.
techno nights with visiting friends.
getting into clubs free.
making friends from other countries.
[week 16]
25.3.10
21.3.10
le printemps est arrivé!
well, spring has arrived in paris. i am sitting in romains bedroom, trying to navigate his french keyboard, hiding from the thunder storm that is raging outside. he and his friends have been brave enough to go to the social club, while katy and our friends risked the weather for a show in the 20th arrondissement. as i do not like being wet and even opening the windows in this weather results in instantly becoming soaked, i have decided to stay in and pass this saturday night listening to the sounds of the rain mingling with casey dienel, and updating my blog. i will try to finish some long overdue posts, but first the arrival of spring is on the forefront of my mind.
today, as the sun was shining softly from behind white clouds, the breeze was only blowing gently, and the temperature was warm enough to require only a cardigan, ro decided to show me a park that he used to go to as a child. he wouldnt tell me the name of it, or where it was. we went stop-by-stop on the metro, finally riding a smaller line that i had never ridden before, the 7bis. imagine my surprise when we emerged from the metro station at the same park danny had taken katy and me to, during our first few weeks in paris!! i didnt have the heart to tell romain that i had been there before. his excitement is just too catching to ruin. luckily, the park is huge and sections close periodically, so we didnt go anywhere i had been before and i never had to feign surprise.
since spring has hit, everyone in paris seems to be in a much better mood. people have begun to talk to me on the metro, which is something that would have never occurred before. even ro has changed. i wouldnt have thought it possible, but he has gotten even happier. just this morning, he attempted to play spies with me in the kitchen, hands in the shape of a gun, crouching low so we wouldnt be seen by the 'enemy'. he keeps repeating one phrase, be it in conversation or text messages. he simply says, i like this moment.
kids ran rampant all over the park. their tiny voices giggling in french were hard for me to understand, but completely charming. ro instantly became nostalgic, pointing out places his parents and his brother had taken him as a child.
romain took photos of me, in fact, he took all the pictures in this post. at first, i did not appreciate it. in the earlier photos, i am either closing my eyes, scowling, or making some ridiculous face. but as he began to get frustrated with only having a 50mm lens and not having as much creative freedom as he is accustomed to, i relaxed in an attempt to raise his spirits. we wandered the park all afternoon, eating new yorkaise hot dogs, ice cream cones, and large, sticky barbes à papa, known as cotton candy to us americans. the direct translation is 'papas beard'. french cotton candy is much stickier than american cotton candy, or even the british candy floss. it ended up all over my arms, my pants, and i am sure i am going to be finding pink fluffy bits in my hair for the next few days.
i thought paris covered in snow was beautiful, but it is nothing compared to sunshine and the warmer temperatures. velibs are littering the streets now, as people forgo the metro in favor of frances bicycle transit system. i have not yet worked up the courage to ride a bicycle in the busy streets of paris. romain assures me that in the summer bicycles are his sole mode of transportation and i will soon be forced to at least try. i am sure that my tendency for klutziness and parisian traffic will not mix well.
since spring has hit, everyone in paris seems to be in a much better mood. people have begun to talk to me on the metro, which is something that would have never occurred before. even ro has changed. i wouldnt have thought it possible, but he has gotten even happier. just this morning, he attempted to play spies with me in the kitchen, hands in the shape of a gun, crouching low so we wouldnt be seen by the 'enemy'. he keeps repeating one phrase, be it in conversation or text messages. he simply says, i like this moment.
well, i like this moment too. i cannot wait until spring is here in full-force, complete with leaves and flowers, and i can finally wear flowery sundresses, eat gelato, and knit in front of the eiffel tower.
18.3.10
thankful for...
surviving my first lecture class.
curry nights with the girls.
calm nights on the couch.
wild nights on the streets of paris.
date nights with the boy.
my job teaching english to the frenchies.
connecting with old friends.
connecting with new friends.
[week 15]
curry nights with the girls.
calm nights on the couch.
wild nights on the streets of paris.
date nights with the boy.
my job teaching english to the frenchies.
connecting with old friends.
connecting with new friends.
[week 15]
17.3.10
butterflies, french restaurants, and cobblestone roads.
after looking over my past relationships, i have realized i very rarely go on dates. or even outside for that matter. i tend to stay in a tiny bubble with my significant other and neglect all else. i am in france for only a short time, and have decided to fight that tendency with all my might. i need to make a strong effort to still hang out with friends, which is relatively easy because romain works from eleven until midnight pretty much six days a week.
a few days ago, sunday i believe, i realized that i wanted to go to dinner with romain. not buying food at disnyeland, not going to mcdonalds, not making each other dinner but a real dinner date. the problem is, romain tends to be cheap when it comes to anything but shopping. which is understandable, because he works so often and for so long, but almost every penny of it goes to his photography school. although i understand his thriftiness, it left me with a problem: how was i to broach the subject that i wanted him to take me out to dinner?
he took the problem right out of my hands, however. the very next day i caught him staring at me from across the room. i responded with the involuntary "quoi?" fully expecting him to quip back his usual " stop to say what when i look to you!" i was pleasantly surprised when instead, he crossed the room and said "i want to take you to restaurant." my chest instantly filled with dread. i assumed he meant his restaurant, to meet his work friends that we had recently been talking about. he corrected my assumption, stating that the restaurant didnt matter, he just wanted to go on a date.
i agreed, and he took tuesday night off from work. we went to the saint-michel area, which is very hip but also very stereotypically french. he guided me to his favorite street in paris, which was too narrow for cars, slanting to one side from its ancient age, and paved with uneven cobblestones that made walking in heels almost impossible. the street was lined with french restaurants and funky shops. we stopped at one that sold tiny music boxes with haunting melodies. in the middle of the street, undisturbed by traffic or wandering pedestrians, we saw the perfect restaurant. the weather was the warmest it has been since my arrival in paris, so we sat ourselves on the terrace. i nursed my beer while romain smoked and we decided what to order. to my surprise, every plate was at least 20€. my shocked complaints and suggestions we find elsewhere were met only with "if you want, you have. its not a problem, anna." where had the frugal romain gone? where was the boy who claimed five euro for a kebab was too expensive? we ordered, a seemingly endless three course meal. the waitress was beautiful and unbelieveably nice, speaking english when i couldnt remember how to say "medium-rare" in french and romain ordered my veal bien cuit, or well cooked. she made fun of romains pronunciation of tataki, but left my butchering of ordering a simple beer unnoticed.
the bread, however, was sub-par. romain looked at it with extreme distaste, explaining that in france the bread was the most important part. if the bread was bad, it usually meant the entire meal would be bad. i gave him a severe look, said "its just bread, babe," and took a large, comical, bite. he rolled his eyes at my american foolishness as the entree arrived. it was beautiful, had i not been at a restaurant i would have snapped pictures of the entire meal. it was a beef tatki with ponzu sauce and a pineapple-cucumber salad. i like my beef quite bloody, so i loved it. i think romain might have inhaled it. i turned away for just a few seconds, and half the plate was gone! his appetite always surprises me. we both had ordered the veal, which was perfectly cooked, topped with caramelized onions, and paired with a small bowl of french fries. the dessert was the best part. we ordered a creme brulee and fondant au choclat au coeur courant, which is pretty much a fancy way of saying chocolate lava cake. usually, creme brulee is too custardy for me, but this one was perfect. it had just the right mix of vanilla, and a great consistency. i always order the chocolate cake, in every country i have been to. it is quite interesting to see the differences. america has the sweetest, but france has the richest.
sometime during the course of the night romain said, matter of factly, that this was his first time taking a girl to a restaurant. i couldnt believe it! apparently, things are different in the south. if you dont drive, you go out only in groups, usually taking a drink, making food, or seeing a movie. which is all that we have been doing, his normal dating pattern. that night broke the pattern completely. it was so cute, i could see how excited he was to be at a restaurant. at the very end, he fumbled with the check, becoming extremely disappointed when he realized i saw the bill. flashing one of my reportedly blinding smiles, i assured him it didnt matter. we left the restaurant, arm in arm, me struggling gracelessly to navigate the mine field of cobblestones.
a few days ago, sunday i believe, i realized that i wanted to go to dinner with romain. not buying food at disnyeland, not going to mcdonalds, not making each other dinner but a real dinner date. the problem is, romain tends to be cheap when it comes to anything but shopping. which is understandable, because he works so often and for so long, but almost every penny of it goes to his photography school. although i understand his thriftiness, it left me with a problem: how was i to broach the subject that i wanted him to take me out to dinner?
he took the problem right out of my hands, however. the very next day i caught him staring at me from across the room. i responded with the involuntary "quoi?" fully expecting him to quip back his usual " stop to say what when i look to you!" i was pleasantly surprised when instead, he crossed the room and said "i want to take you to restaurant." my chest instantly filled with dread. i assumed he meant his restaurant, to meet his work friends that we had recently been talking about. he corrected my assumption, stating that the restaurant didnt matter, he just wanted to go on a date.
i agreed, and he took tuesday night off from work. we went to the saint-michel area, which is very hip but also very stereotypically french. he guided me to his favorite street in paris, which was too narrow for cars, slanting to one side from its ancient age, and paved with uneven cobblestones that made walking in heels almost impossible. the street was lined with french restaurants and funky shops. we stopped at one that sold tiny music boxes with haunting melodies. in the middle of the street, undisturbed by traffic or wandering pedestrians, we saw the perfect restaurant. the weather was the warmest it has been since my arrival in paris, so we sat ourselves on the terrace. i nursed my beer while romain smoked and we decided what to order. to my surprise, every plate was at least 20€. my shocked complaints and suggestions we find elsewhere were met only with "if you want, you have. its not a problem, anna." where had the frugal romain gone? where was the boy who claimed five euro for a kebab was too expensive? we ordered, a seemingly endless three course meal. the waitress was beautiful and unbelieveably nice, speaking english when i couldnt remember how to say "medium-rare" in french and romain ordered my veal bien cuit, or well cooked. she made fun of romains pronunciation of tataki, but left my butchering of ordering a simple beer unnoticed.
the bread, however, was sub-par. romain looked at it with extreme distaste, explaining that in france the bread was the most important part. if the bread was bad, it usually meant the entire meal would be bad. i gave him a severe look, said "its just bread, babe," and took a large, comical, bite. he rolled his eyes at my american foolishness as the entree arrived. it was beautiful, had i not been at a restaurant i would have snapped pictures of the entire meal. it was a beef tatki with ponzu sauce and a pineapple-cucumber salad. i like my beef quite bloody, so i loved it. i think romain might have inhaled it. i turned away for just a few seconds, and half the plate was gone! his appetite always surprises me. we both had ordered the veal, which was perfectly cooked, topped with caramelized onions, and paired with a small bowl of french fries. the dessert was the best part. we ordered a creme brulee and fondant au choclat au coeur courant, which is pretty much a fancy way of saying chocolate lava cake. usually, creme brulee is too custardy for me, but this one was perfect. it had just the right mix of vanilla, and a great consistency. i always order the chocolate cake, in every country i have been to. it is quite interesting to see the differences. america has the sweetest, but france has the richest.
sometime during the course of the night romain said, matter of factly, that this was his first time taking a girl to a restaurant. i couldnt believe it! apparently, things are different in the south. if you dont drive, you go out only in groups, usually taking a drink, making food, or seeing a movie. which is all that we have been doing, his normal dating pattern. that night broke the pattern completely. it was so cute, i could see how excited he was to be at a restaurant. at the very end, he fumbled with the check, becoming extremely disappointed when he realized i saw the bill. flashing one of my reportedly blinding smiles, i assured him it didnt matter. we left the restaurant, arm in arm, me struggling gracelessly to navigate the mine field of cobblestones.
16.3.10
reflections on two months spent in paris.
i have recently become quite active on facebook. i am realizing it is an intergral part of the global society, not just the americans, the british, or the french. we all rely on it to communicate. texting has become obsolete, chat has replaced it. words are no longer even exchanged. a simple click of the thumbs-up button portrays all that your words of praise could hope to, and more. the vagueness can be interpreted in so many ways, as a friend simply liking a photo, or as a potential boyfriend saying to all the world that he likes your face. it is very foreign to me, and though i am not quite sure i understand it, i am enjoying it.
it was through this recent return to the world of the internet, that i came into contact with a very old friend. and though our worlds have taken very different turns, she is getting married in the fall and i am traveling with no end in sight, we are still connected. we have been sporadically messaging for a few days now, and she recently said to me that she hated paris. she loved france, but hated paris.
it was then that it hit me: a few weeks ago, i would have said the same thing. "no offense to the french, but paris is just not for me." in fact, i think i have said that very thing. now, that is no longer true.sometime, between awkward moments ordering a coffee and fumbling leaps to avoid a pile of dog shit, i have fallen in love. i have fallen in love with the smells i so detested upon arrival, with the night so sparse with stars but heavy with emotion, and with the language i fail so often to understand.
i think paris takes getting used to. the beauty must be searched for, coerced out, and courted before it will allow you to love it. london was the opposite, the beauty was there for all to see. as soon as i stepped off the plane in heathrow, i felt it. the smiling people, the general mood of laid-back alcoholism, the pompous architecture, and the overwhelming love for the queen all combined to make one incredibly enjoyable place, one where i wouldnt mind spending the rest of my life. but upon further, deeper searches, the flaws began to peek through. one begins to take everything with a grain of salt, knowing there might be a hidden underbelly you will not like.
paris is nothing like that. the people are cold, and standoffish. the streets are littered with cigarette butts, spit, dog shit, and trash. the language is hard to figure out, and people are constantly correcting you. pronunciation is labored over, and grammar almost completely ignored. everything seems backwards, even the doors open the wrong way. but if you accept it, accept the bad and just let it flow through you, you will quickly begin to see the good. paris is just like a french woman. there is a hard, self-constructed veil across herself, almost impossible to pass through. but once you do, you find underneath there is all woman, soft and loving, and above all gorgeous. now these are all gross generalizations, of course, based on my limited experience and limited comprehension. as much as i love paris, and french culture, i really do despise their university system. i am having a very hard time with it.
there seems to be so many cultural differences between the french and us americans. but, ive found, if i try to understand their culture first, i can understand them. so many fights have arisen between me and romain, simply because i was stubborn and refused to see anything besides my american ways. and ive found that is the way with the french. if you greet them with arrogance and self-defence, they will respond in kind. only the french have perfected arrogance, have protected self-defence, more so than any other culture. you will lose that encounter, undoubtedly, and be left hating everything even more. however, if you are open when you meet them, if you dont take offence to their honesty, and give it back in return, you will be greeted with respect and you will see a side of them they keep hidden.
for example, pronunciation. at first, it seems like the french are making fun of you when they correct it. there couldnt possibly be that much of a difference between what i am saying and what they are forcibly repeating into my face. it seems unimaginably rude that a stranger at the bakery would correct my pronunciation. but they do: the postman, the newspaper man, the woman working the box office, and even the mcdonalds attendant all correct pronunciation. but not as badly as friends, people you meet at parties, people who are your own age. but ive found that its not rude, its not malicious, they want to help you learn, they want to help you be better understood. they expect you to do the same for them when they speak english. even further, they get mad when you dont. in their minds, if mistakes go uncorrected, nothing is learned. if you dont correct someone, not only are you hurting them, but you are showing them you dont care at all. it took me months to comprehend this. but that moment when the baker saw me coming in, instantly grabbed two baguettes a l'ancienne and stated, matter of factly, that my french was getting better, made all the embarrassment worth it.
i have always had an odd infatuation with english culture, it has been in me for years, ever since my english cousin first visited an eight year old me. but i must say, i am slowly falling in love with french culture the more i am exposed to it. i cannot wait for the day when i am speaking to an english speaker and become at a loss for words, unable to remember the english term for a french word so commonly used. i have been changed by the introduction to romains friends, and the introduction of me to romains family promises to change me even more.
it was through this recent return to the world of the internet, that i came into contact with a very old friend. and though our worlds have taken very different turns, she is getting married in the fall and i am traveling with no end in sight, we are still connected. we have been sporadically messaging for a few days now, and she recently said to me that she hated paris. she loved france, but hated paris.
it was then that it hit me: a few weeks ago, i would have said the same thing. "no offense to the french, but paris is just not for me." in fact, i think i have said that very thing. now, that is no longer true.sometime, between awkward moments ordering a coffee and fumbling leaps to avoid a pile of dog shit, i have fallen in love. i have fallen in love with the smells i so detested upon arrival, with the night so sparse with stars but heavy with emotion, and with the language i fail so often to understand.
i think paris takes getting used to. the beauty must be searched for, coerced out, and courted before it will allow you to love it. london was the opposite, the beauty was there for all to see. as soon as i stepped off the plane in heathrow, i felt it. the smiling people, the general mood of laid-back alcoholism, the pompous architecture, and the overwhelming love for the queen all combined to make one incredibly enjoyable place, one where i wouldnt mind spending the rest of my life. but upon further, deeper searches, the flaws began to peek through. one begins to take everything with a grain of salt, knowing there might be a hidden underbelly you will not like.
paris is nothing like that. the people are cold, and standoffish. the streets are littered with cigarette butts, spit, dog shit, and trash. the language is hard to figure out, and people are constantly correcting you. pronunciation is labored over, and grammar almost completely ignored. everything seems backwards, even the doors open the wrong way. but if you accept it, accept the bad and just let it flow through you, you will quickly begin to see the good. paris is just like a french woman. there is a hard, self-constructed veil across herself, almost impossible to pass through. but once you do, you find underneath there is all woman, soft and loving, and above all gorgeous. now these are all gross generalizations, of course, based on my limited experience and limited comprehension. as much as i love paris, and french culture, i really do despise their university system. i am having a very hard time with it.
there seems to be so many cultural differences between the french and us americans. but, ive found, if i try to understand their culture first, i can understand them. so many fights have arisen between me and romain, simply because i was stubborn and refused to see anything besides my american ways. and ive found that is the way with the french. if you greet them with arrogance and self-defence, they will respond in kind. only the french have perfected arrogance, have protected self-defence, more so than any other culture. you will lose that encounter, undoubtedly, and be left hating everything even more. however, if you are open when you meet them, if you dont take offence to their honesty, and give it back in return, you will be greeted with respect and you will see a side of them they keep hidden.
for example, pronunciation. at first, it seems like the french are making fun of you when they correct it. there couldnt possibly be that much of a difference between what i am saying and what they are forcibly repeating into my face. it seems unimaginably rude that a stranger at the bakery would correct my pronunciation. but they do: the postman, the newspaper man, the woman working the box office, and even the mcdonalds attendant all correct pronunciation. but not as badly as friends, people you meet at parties, people who are your own age. but ive found that its not rude, its not malicious, they want to help you learn, they want to help you be better understood. they expect you to do the same for them when they speak english. even further, they get mad when you dont. in their minds, if mistakes go uncorrected, nothing is learned. if you dont correct someone, not only are you hurting them, but you are showing them you dont care at all. it took me months to comprehend this. but that moment when the baker saw me coming in, instantly grabbed two baguettes a l'ancienne and stated, matter of factly, that my french was getting better, made all the embarrassment worth it.
i have always had an odd infatuation with english culture, it has been in me for years, ever since my english cousin first visited an eight year old me. but i must say, i am slowly falling in love with french culture the more i am exposed to it. i cannot wait for the day when i am speaking to an english speaker and become at a loss for words, unable to remember the english term for a french word so commonly used. i have been changed by the introduction to romains friends, and the introduction of me to romains family promises to change me even more.
15.3.10
skins party and chat roulette: week nine.
20 weeks left...
daily updates:
9 march. [tuesday] a very routine day, school and work.
10 march. [wednesday] another routine day.
11 march. [thursday] a not so routine day. i went to my first lecture class. it was... hard, to say the least. i am used to sitting in the back, so i can knit without the teachers noticing. that was a big mistake. the professor refused to use the microphone. i was left trying to simultaneously hear him and decipher the foreign language. it did not work. but now i know to sit closer!
that night, we hung out with danny. we hadnt seen him in ages, not since we both got frenchie significant others. we tried to go to the social club, but that failed miserably. we did, however, successfully figure out the night buses!!
12 march. [friday] i worked, we got italian food and went to see shutter island. it feels like im dating these kids. i love meeting the people, i now have three groups who constantly repeat in my courses. but sometimes, when im watching the movie, or playing billiards, i cant help but think that id rather be doing those things with romain. well, at least im getting paid.
that night, we went to a skins party! romain was very iffy about me going, due to the fiasco that was the bloody party. we eventually convinced him. i have been told numerous times that color is mandatory at a skins party. unfortunately, katy and lauren got dressed while i was at work. they arent stupid enough to make friday night courses, unlike me. there are three pairs of bright tights in our house; a black spandex pair, a sheer red pair, and a yellow knitted pair. katy donned the black pair, lauren snatched the red pair, and i was left with the yellow pair. now i despise wearing yellow. it makes me appear sallow, but i sucked it up.
this time, the party was inside paris, but still at a hidden location. we got off the twelve line, almost at the end, and started to queue at an unmarked building on the corner. lauren grew impatient within seconds. she walked up to the bouncers, said something along the lines of "nous sommes avec romain clerc. [we're with romain clerc.]" and they let us right through. not only did we skip the queue, but we didnt pay! i felt so important. we later got our four irish friends in that way. to top it off, our drinks were free for the rest of the night. not only did romain get free drinks, thanks to the STAFF written across his wrist in bold letters, we also met someone who knew the bartender. the night was supposed to be a forty euro night, and we spent nothing.
the party was great, but not as wild as the others have been, despite the bounty of interracial, bisexual kissing that was going on on the mattresses in the corner. i refused to partake, those mattresses were crawling with herpes. the party was in a legitimate venue this time, complete with a screen on which to view the newest episode of skins. we passed a great night, just dancing and enjoying being the ricaines again. people recognized us from last time, and katy even got a facebook recognition. katy fell in love again! i think, this time, it might actually be legitimate!! hes a beautiful mixed boy from morocco. my parents would be so proud.
laurens photos:
my photos:
romains photos:
and my personal favorites, they make a sort of slideshow:
as i said, both interracial and bisexual make-out sessions occurred at that party. i found out later that skins parties are also known as erotic parties. i am not surprised, i am just questioning what i have gotten myself into.
13 march. [saturday] we spent the day with katys love. then at night, we headed over to taras for an exciting night... playing chat roulette! im not sure if you know what chat roulette is, i certainly didnt before this night. it is where you log onto a sight, and video chat with random strangers all across the world. sometimes you meet really cool people, sometimes you see penises. thats why it called roulette. as katy always says, im getting into debt for this.
14 march. [sunday] tara made yellow chicken curry with an amount of vegetables i wouldnt have thought possible. it was delicious. we also watched the l-word, which i am getting addicted to.
15 march. [monday] classes at work all day. we played billiards and watched some american tv. then i made romain turkey enchiladas for dinner. he bought turkey on accident, but they were actually really good
weekly highlights:
dates: 9-15 march [days 63-69]
sights seen: i dont believe i saw any sights...
something new: chat roulette.
someone new: countless.
somewhere new: nowhere new this week! i need to start adventuring more!
what i'm not so sure of: my french university. i know studying is what i came here to do, im just having some major problems with it. my fear of it has taken me aback. i felt nothing akin to this in london. i was nervous, yes, but nothing this debilitating. and fear is a cycle, it feeds on itself and just gets worse and worse.
what i miss: my own university.
what i love: paris. it grows on you, it takes getting used to, but now i cant imagine leaving...
9 march. [tuesday] a very routine day, school and work.
10 march. [wednesday] another routine day.
11 march. [thursday] a not so routine day. i went to my first lecture class. it was... hard, to say the least. i am used to sitting in the back, so i can knit without the teachers noticing. that was a big mistake. the professor refused to use the microphone. i was left trying to simultaneously hear him and decipher the foreign language. it did not work. but now i know to sit closer!
lauren, katy; and i ran some errands. i finally succeeded in opening my french bank account. i now have a carte bleu and everything. since my bank is literally right next door to phildar, i popped in and bought some yarn. im making romain a scarf, since he has stolen katys and it is easily duplicated. but shhh, its a surprise. luckily, he cant read english!
that night, we hung out with danny. we hadnt seen him in ages, not since we both got frenchie significant others. we tried to go to the social club, but that failed miserably. we did, however, successfully figure out the night buses!!
12 march. [friday] i worked, we got italian food and went to see shutter island. it feels like im dating these kids. i love meeting the people, i now have three groups who constantly repeat in my courses. but sometimes, when im watching the movie, or playing billiards, i cant help but think that id rather be doing those things with romain. well, at least im getting paid.
that night, we went to a skins party! romain was very iffy about me going, due to the fiasco that was the bloody party. we eventually convinced him. i have been told numerous times that color is mandatory at a skins party. unfortunately, katy and lauren got dressed while i was at work. they arent stupid enough to make friday night courses, unlike me. there are three pairs of bright tights in our house; a black spandex pair, a sheer red pair, and a yellow knitted pair. katy donned the black pair, lauren snatched the red pair, and i was left with the yellow pair. now i despise wearing yellow. it makes me appear sallow, but i sucked it up.
the party was great, but not as wild as the others have been, despite the bounty of interracial, bisexual kissing that was going on on the mattresses in the corner. i refused to partake, those mattresses were crawling with herpes. the party was in a legitimate venue this time, complete with a screen on which to view the newest episode of skins. we passed a great night, just dancing and enjoying being the ricaines again. people recognized us from last time, and katy even got a facebook recognition. katy fell in love again! i think, this time, it might actually be legitimate!! hes a beautiful mixed boy from morocco. my parents would be so proud.
laurens photos:
my photos:
romains photos:
and my personal favorites, they make a sort of slideshow:
as i said, both interracial and bisexual make-out sessions occurred at that party. i found out later that skins parties are also known as erotic parties. i am not surprised, i am just questioning what i have gotten myself into.
13 march. [saturday] we spent the day with katys love. then at night, we headed over to taras for an exciting night... playing chat roulette! im not sure if you know what chat roulette is, i certainly didnt before this night. it is where you log onto a sight, and video chat with random strangers all across the world. sometimes you meet really cool people, sometimes you see penises. thats why it called roulette. as katy always says, im getting into debt for this.
14 march. [sunday] tara made yellow chicken curry with an amount of vegetables i wouldnt have thought possible. it was delicious. we also watched the l-word, which i am getting addicted to.
15 march. [monday] classes at work all day. we played billiards and watched some american tv. then i made romain turkey enchiladas for dinner. he bought turkey on accident, but they were actually really good
weekly highlights:
dates: 9-15 march [days 63-69]
sights seen: i dont believe i saw any sights...
something new: chat roulette.
someone new: countless.
somewhere new: nowhere new this week! i need to start adventuring more!
what i'm not so sure of: my french university. i know studying is what i came here to do, im just having some major problems with it. my fear of it has taken me aback. i felt nothing akin to this in london. i was nervous, yes, but nothing this debilitating. and fear is a cycle, it feeds on itself and just gets worse and worse.
what i miss: my own university.
what i love: paris. it grows on you, it takes getting used to, but now i cant imagine leaving...
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