In the spirit of full disclosure, I would like to inform everyone that I made the following errors in reporting the Scottish invasion of Paris:
1. The Rugby World Cup game was not Wednesday as I previously stated, nor was it against France. The Scottish national rugby team played Portugal on Sunday, September 9. The Scots stomped major Portuguese arse, 56 to 10.
2. There was indeed a game on that Wednesday night, and it was indeed Scotland vs. France and Scotland did indeed win (1-0) and France did indeed pitch le hissy fit. It was a football match, however -- football of the European variety, naturally -- and more specifically a qualifying match for the Union of European Football Associations European Cup 2008, a competition played in the even-numbered off-years of the FIFA World Cup. Don't you worry about France, though -- we're still in the running for Euro 2008, as it's known, and I have every confidence les Bleus will prevail.
3. These errors are deeply regretted and extreme measures will be taken to ensure you are not so vilely misinformed in the future. OK, that's a lie, there will be no extreme measures taken. I just felt I had to somehow maintain the journalistic integrity of this publication, scant though it may be.
Also, the promised update on the past two weeks of my life is forthcoming.
On an unrelated note, I am currently trying to memorize La Marseillaise, the French national anthem. It is quite a cute little ditty -- here are the words translated into English:
Arise, children of the fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us, tyranny's
Bloody banner is raised.
The bloody banner is raised!
Do you hear in the fields
The howling of these savage soldiers?
They are coming into your midst
To cut the throats of your sons, your wives!
To arms, citizens!
Form your battalions!
Let us march, let us march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
Charming, non? Let impure blood water our furrows, indeed. Although I guess the Star-Spangled Banner also has some choice phrases (in the third verse especially -- check it out). Hooray for violent nationalism!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I am a terrible blogger ...
... but I'm going to leave you all hanging for one more day before I update you on the past two weeks of my life. Only one more day! Bear with me. Classes started this past week and I also caught a nasty cold, so it's been all kinds of chaos trying to navigate the ridiculous French university system and also my own ridiculous immune system.
I saw a bizarre French play tonight. It's called L'Acte Inconnu, and a kind description of it is "postmodern." It was actually fun because it was just so out there -- I'm talking people in crazy geometric costumes jumping around with random props in their hands (for example, a lemon tree), sometimes stopping to bang something on the floor or to sing a capella or to recite a snippet of dialogue having nothing to do with anything else, and an accordion player and a props manager popping in and out of the madness and often contributing to it. I have a feeling the madness would have been a lot more meaningful if I could have understood more than every third word, but no matter. It was just fun to marvel at the fact that a portly man in a tight orange bodysuit could sing an entire scene from a German opera and act out each individual part, including the dog, and then turn around a second later and rejoin the equally surreal scene behind him (which featured a man wearing a puffy blue sack and holding a giant pencil, a 15-foot tall painting of a landscape, and two women in geometric-print dresses swinging large sticks, among other things).
Ah, French theater. How delightfully eccentric thou art, and how ludicrous you will make my dreams tonight. I'm off to bed now, where visions of postmodernism will dance in my head ... bonne nuit.
I saw a bizarre French play tonight. It's called L'Acte Inconnu, and a kind description of it is "postmodern." It was actually fun because it was just so out there -- I'm talking people in crazy geometric costumes jumping around with random props in their hands (for example, a lemon tree), sometimes stopping to bang something on the floor or to sing a capella or to recite a snippet of dialogue having nothing to do with anything else, and an accordion player and a props manager popping in and out of the madness and often contributing to it. I have a feeling the madness would have been a lot more meaningful if I could have understood more than every third word, but no matter. It was just fun to marvel at the fact that a portly man in a tight orange bodysuit could sing an entire scene from a German opera and act out each individual part, including the dog, and then turn around a second later and rejoin the equally surreal scene behind him (which featured a man wearing a puffy blue sack and holding a giant pencil, a 15-foot tall painting of a landscape, and two women in geometric-print dresses swinging large sticks, among other things).
Ah, French theater. How delightfully eccentric thou art, and how ludicrous you will make my dreams tonight. I'm off to bed now, where visions of postmodernism will dance in my head ... bonne nuit.
Monday, September 17, 2007
What a Scotsman wears under his kilt ...
Nothing.
I have a friend who was flashed on le Métro. Just thought I'd share.
I have a friend who was flashed on le Métro. Just thought I'd share.
Joyeux anniversaire!
Happy birthday to my Aunt Kathy, Aunt Coletta, and also to my dog Miss Muffet. Muffy won't be reading this unless things have changed drastically since I left, but I figured I'd include her anyway.
You two birthday humans, I hope you have wonderful days!
You two birthday humans, I hope you have wonderful days!
Friday, September 14, 2007
La Fièvre du Rugby -- a.k.a. Rugby Fever
For the past three days, Paris has been overrun with Scots.
That's right, the kilted, sporraned, bagpiping, slurring, drunken Scots are all over Paris. And why, the inquiring mind may ask, is this so?
Because, the well-informed and insufferably knowledgeable mind may answer, the Rugby World Cup is currently taking place all over France, and the Highlanders strolled straight out of Braveheart and into Paris to support their countrymen in the game Wednesday night. I almost wish I could have attended the all-night bar brawl that followed a Scottish win over France. However, I feel like I have been attending it for the past several days -- in the streets, in broad daylight.
Whenever two or more Scotsmen gather, it seems the only proper activity is to drink, yell loudly, drink and then maybe have a drink or two before yelling loudly again. They seem to take it as their birthright that anywhere in Paris labeled "bar," or heaven forbid, "pub", is theirs to own. The Scots are by nature a ruddy, boisterous race, and their drinking only enhances these qualities. Also, if you have ever attempted to understand a sober Scotsman, you will empathize with me when I tell you the drunken slur does not sit lightly upon their tongues.
However, this Scottish brand of inebriation lends itself to some excellent photo ops and stories. For one, hundreds of Scotsmen gather on the street leading to a building where I have class every day. There was one knot of young Scots singing a rousing chorus of "Hey Baby" to any good-looking female that passed by. Someone was actually playing the bagpipes in the street. And there were masses of them thronging a bar on a side road, where Scottish flags spanned the buildings and drinking songs sounded from hundreds of throats. I encountered a splendidly kilted but extremely drunk man who was trying to get back to his hotel. It seemed all he knew was the name of his hotel -- he had no clue where the hotel was, or really where he was or which way he had walked to get there. As such, I couldn't help him much. When I left class about two hours later, he was still there, wandering around the same corner in a very similar state of inebriation. Somehow he did manage to recognize me and he asked me for directions again, as though I had somehow managed to find his hotel during my absence.
Here are some of the many photos I took of/with the Scots:
My favorite guy, the drunken one who couldn't find his hotel. It's a shame you can't see his kilt here.
This guy was pole-dancing (don't worry, Mom, he still had his kilt on) in a pub at 3:00 in the afternoon. What inspired him to do so? The song "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by the Proclaimers.
The throngs outside a bar. Just look at all those kilts!
The bagpiper (one of several), plus a few of the "Hey Baby" crowd.
We found a few remaining Scots and took our picture with them before they left forever. The other girl is Leah. PS- Check out the hat on the guy on the left.
*EDIT* Since this post was written and somehow never posted, it is now Friday. Most of the kilted hordes have left, but in their place have arrived the South Africans and the English. They are an infinitely better behaved crowd than the Scots, mostly sitting quietly in pubs and cafés and conversing in delightful accents. A girl named Leah in the EDUCO program had a birthday yesterday, and we convinced some South Africans to sing to her in Afrikaans. It was quite cool.
I just remembered that I had previously promised a post containing drunken Scotsmen, Neanderthals and musical harassment. You have heard plenty about the Scots, and the musical harassment bit was the "Hey Baby" chorus, but you haven't heard yet about the Neanderthals. I guess it's really just Neanderthal, considering it was one guy. Last Friday night, I watched the opening match of the Rugby World Cup (France v. Argentina) in the Hôtel de Ville square. The actual game was being played just down the street in the Stade de France, and there were thousands of people gathered in the square to watch on the giant screen. It was amazing to be there with so many crazed fans. There's one French player in particular that everyone went wild for, and he's probably the single scariest-looking man I have ever seen in my life. He looks like he eats babies for breakfast:
You can see why I called him a Neanderthal, or why the French call him "l'Homme des Cavernes" ("The Caveman"). His name is Sébastien Chabal, and he is in fact as ruthless as he looks -- and thus an excellent rugby player. As for the match, we lost to Argentina, but it was an incredible experience regardless. Combine rugby on Friday with watching football (French football, of course) in a pub on Saturday, and you have a very sporty weekend -- not at all like me, but I had a ball (groaaaannnnnnn).
I am packing now to leave for Normandy early in the morning. I will be gone until Sunday night, but I will post then about my hopefully awesome weekend. Au revoir!
MK
That's right, the kilted, sporraned, bagpiping, slurring, drunken Scots are all over Paris. And why, the inquiring mind may ask, is this so?
Because, the well-informed and insufferably knowledgeable mind may answer, the Rugby World Cup is currently taking place all over France, and the Highlanders strolled straight out of Braveheart and into Paris to support their countrymen in the game Wednesday night. I almost wish I could have attended the all-night bar brawl that followed a Scottish win over France. However, I feel like I have been attending it for the past several days -- in the streets, in broad daylight.
Whenever two or more Scotsmen gather, it seems the only proper activity is to drink, yell loudly, drink and then maybe have a drink or two before yelling loudly again. They seem to take it as their birthright that anywhere in Paris labeled "bar," or heaven forbid, "pub", is theirs to own. The Scots are by nature a ruddy, boisterous race, and their drinking only enhances these qualities. Also, if you have ever attempted to understand a sober Scotsman, you will empathize with me when I tell you the drunken slur does not sit lightly upon their tongues.
However, this Scottish brand of inebriation lends itself to some excellent photo ops and stories. For one, hundreds of Scotsmen gather on the street leading to a building where I have class every day. There was one knot of young Scots singing a rousing chorus of "Hey Baby" to any good-looking female that passed by. Someone was actually playing the bagpipes in the street. And there were masses of them thronging a bar on a side road, where Scottish flags spanned the buildings and drinking songs sounded from hundreds of throats. I encountered a splendidly kilted but extremely drunk man who was trying to get back to his hotel. It seemed all he knew was the name of his hotel -- he had no clue where the hotel was, or really where he was or which way he had walked to get there. As such, I couldn't help him much. When I left class about two hours later, he was still there, wandering around the same corner in a very similar state of inebriation. Somehow he did manage to recognize me and he asked me for directions again, as though I had somehow managed to find his hotel during my absence.
Here are some of the many photos I took of/with the Scots:
My favorite guy, the drunken one who couldn't find his hotel. It's a shame you can't see his kilt here.
This guy was pole-dancing (don't worry, Mom, he still had his kilt on) in a pub at 3:00 in the afternoon. What inspired him to do so? The song "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by the Proclaimers.
The throngs outside a bar. Just look at all those kilts!
The bagpiper (one of several), plus a few of the "Hey Baby" crowd.
We found a few remaining Scots and took our picture with them before they left forever. The other girl is Leah. PS- Check out the hat on the guy on the left.*EDIT* Since this post was written and somehow never posted, it is now Friday. Most of the kilted hordes have left, but in their place have arrived the South Africans and the English. They are an infinitely better behaved crowd than the Scots, mostly sitting quietly in pubs and cafés and conversing in delightful accents. A girl named Leah in the EDUCO program had a birthday yesterday, and we convinced some South Africans to sing to her in Afrikaans. It was quite cool.
I just remembered that I had previously promised a post containing drunken Scotsmen, Neanderthals and musical harassment. You have heard plenty about the Scots, and the musical harassment bit was the "Hey Baby" chorus, but you haven't heard yet about the Neanderthals. I guess it's really just Neanderthal, considering it was one guy. Last Friday night, I watched the opening match of the Rugby World Cup (France v. Argentina) in the Hôtel de Ville square. The actual game was being played just down the street in the Stade de France, and there were thousands of people gathered in the square to watch on the giant screen. It was amazing to be there with so many crazed fans. There's one French player in particular that everyone went wild for, and he's probably the single scariest-looking man I have ever seen in my life. He looks like he eats babies for breakfast:
You can see why I called him a Neanderthal, or why the French call him "l'Homme des Cavernes" ("The Caveman"). His name is Sébastien Chabal, and he is in fact as ruthless as he looks -- and thus an excellent rugby player. As for the match, we lost to Argentina, but it was an incredible experience regardless. Combine rugby on Friday with watching football (French football, of course) in a pub on Saturday, and you have a very sporty weekend -- not at all like me, but I had a ball (groaaaannnnnnn).
I am packing now to leave for Normandy early in the morning. I will be gone until Sunday night, but I will post then about my hopefully awesome weekend. Au revoir!
MK
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Epiphanies
I just realized you can double-click the photos in this blog and they'll enlarge! Very cool.
Not as cool, I realized last night that I have been spelling poor Maud's name wrong -- no 'e' at the end. In my defense, though, the info sheet EDUCO gave me had it spelled wrong and that's the only time I've ever seen it written out.
Watch for a post soon about drunken Scotsmen, Neanderthals and musical harassment.
Not as cool, I realized last night that I have been spelling poor Maud's name wrong -- no 'e' at the end. In my defense, though, the info sheet EDUCO gave me had it spelled wrong and that's the only time I've ever seen it written out.
Watch for a post soon about drunken Scotsmen, Neanderthals and musical harassment.
Monday, September 10, 2007
This post is entirely too long.
Bonjour!
Now listen, people. I have gotten all sorts of complaints about not updating, but if you note the date you will see this entry is only four days after my last. Thursday to Monday. I am flattered at the clamoring for my online attention, but sheesh. There's plenty of me to go around, and at the rate I'm eating crêpes there will be even more of me as the semester progresses.
That being said, I have indeed been neglectful of my blog. Therefore this will be the mother of all posts, containing more pictures, thoughts, stories, comments, observations and trivia than you can probably handle. Feel free to skim or read in installments. I hereby deny all responsibility for any injury you may incur reading this post in its entirety -- you have been warned.
I left off at the end of my first day here. The next day (Monday), I moved in to my host family's apartment. I have already said a little about them, but as I now have one more week of knowledge I can tell you more about life with the Montsaberts. My French is rapidly improving because they all make it a point to converse with me, and they all correct my grammatical errors. I am really glad they do, because it's nice to know when I'm making a mistake, but sometimes I laugh when I realize that I'm being corrected by a 13 year old. C'est la vie, non?
The differences between daily life here and life in the US are both smaller than you'd think and greater than you'd think. That is, the differences are not big ones, but sometimes it feels like a big adjustment. For example, a popular misconception in the US is that French people don't shower as often as we do, but that's not completely true. Some shower every other day, some every day, and I think some people I smell on the subway shower about once a month. The girls shower (haha, at first I typed "showever") every night, but their showers are much shorter and probably much colder than the typical US shower. This adjustment to shorter, colder showers is one I am frankly struggling with, but I am valiantly trying to cope. After my first shower here, I immediately thought "So THIS is why they don't shower every day!", but it's improved since then and now I'm only in there for about 6 minutes. I am interested in a detached, anthropological sort of way, and also terrified in a personal, dreading sort of way, to see what happens during the winter when I have to shower in a bathroom with the windows thrown wide open.
So the shower situation is a big adjustment for me, but some adjustments are much smaller and others are even improvements. I did a load of laundry this weekend and I wasn't even out of underwear yet, so I consider that an improvement. We hang the laundry to dry because my host family, like many French families, doesn't have a dryer. The drying rack is suspended over the bathtub with a pulley system, so we lower it to hang the clothes and then raise it again for the clothes to dry. Again, probably going to be interesting in the winter to see if my jeans dry at all or just freeze. I guess that's another adjustment -- all the windows are open all the time. I think part of the reason is that my host mother smokes out the window, but it also keeps a healthy breeze blowing through the apartment. At night, this means sweaters and thick socks in the apartment, but it's also nice to have the fresh air and not to be completely dependent on a heating/cooling system. I'm pretty sure there's a heating system for when it gets colder, but I guess I'll find out soon enough!
My room is actually a lot bigger than I thought it would be, although it's not huge. It also has great storage capacity -- even with the amount of stuff I brought, I still have extra space. I guess I'll just have to fill the space with French souvenirs. Here are a few photos I've taken of my room:
The view from the door. I keep most of my clothes in the pull-out drawers under the bed. The white lump you see on the floor at the end of the bed is my laundry bag (now empty!)
To the right of the door. As you can see, I even have a fireplace, but it's blocked off and I use it as a dresser. Also, you can see fresh flowers peeking out over the top of the computer -- I thought that was just something sweet to welcome me when I arrived, but this weekend Madame changed them! I wonder if I'll have fresh flowers every week.
Pictures of my family on the side of my mirror.
It's quite fun to live in a household with the two younger girls. They're very lively and always greet me enthusiastically when we see each other, even if it's the fourth time that day. They lent me their twin stuffed cats to take care of indefinitely, who now sit on my "dresser", a.k.a. blocked-off fireplace mantel:
Their names are Moser and Rex. Every time Maude enters my room, which is about once a day, she takes the cats and demands in a squeaky voice that I feed them sunflower seeds ("mais, Marie, nous avons faim!") Both the girls seem quite taken with the sunflower seeds and also the popcorn that I gave them as part of a host gift to the family. We haven't popped the popcorn yet, but I'm sure that will also be an adventure. Maude hijacked my camera last week and gave me this delightful image, among others:
She's really much cuter than the photo, but it will be difficult to prove. When I tried to take a picture of both girls, this is what I got:
They pretended to be asleep. Ah, well. Maybe one day I will miraculously capture a good picture of both of them without their knowledge.
My host family's apartment is decorated with interesting photos from their travels as well as paintings by one of Madame's sisters/the girls' aunt. Here is a painting she did of one of the girls (I'm not sure which one):
I think it's a really cool painting. Madame takes all the photographs, which are primarily of girls and women from different South Asian countries in their native dress and environment. Juliette and Maude were adopted from Vietnam, so I suspect that has a lot to do with the family's vacation choices and the photography subject material. They went to Bali this past summer, and apparently they've been to Thailand and other amazing places. One of the girls' many aunts -- I'm not sure if she's the same one who did the painting -- is currently in Thailand for two weeks. There are constantly aunts in the house; Madame has 7 siblings (apparently most of them are sisters, as I've never seen a brother) and they all live nearby. It's an aunt infestation! (groan ...)
Right now Juliette keeps interrupting me -- she's trying to send me text messages on my new French cell phone and for some reason it's not working. I gave her the number earlier today and now I am wondering if that was a mistake. Her mother thinks she is in bed, but instead she keeps talking to me through the wall. Lord only knows what will happen when she gets the text messages to work. I may have to remind her I only have a certain number of texts per month!
This weekend we had the girls' cousin Thibault (pronounced "tee-bo") over. He's only two years old, so his French is about the same level as mine -- it would have been great to chat with someone who wouldn't correct my grammar if he hadn't been insanely afraid of me. Seriously, every time he saw me he started to cry. Maybe I should try a different hairstyle?
After I moved in last week, I started orientation classes. I have two weeks of orientation -- one of them is now over and I'm starting the second -- and then classes start next Monday. In the meantime, we're taking orientation classes. One is a grammar review (tedious, but necessary) and one is a cultural class that consists of a very nice French lady telling us why France is better than any other country. My study abroad program is called EDUCO, which stands for Emory, Duke and Cornell. Students from all three schools attend the orientation, take classes and do activities together, so it's been fun to get to know the Duke and Cornell students. We have a small group this year, only about 35 students. Apparently EDUCO normally has 45 or so, but I'm glad we have a smaller group because we can all get to know each other better and more of us can participate in the weekly activities. The weekly activities are things like museum visits, cooking classes and excursions to other places within France that EDUCO plans and pays for -- this weekend the whole group is going to Normandy, and I think it's going to be awesome. Our other orientation activities have included a bateau mouche tour (one of those open sightseeing boats on the Seine), which I unfortunately missed due to schedule confusion, and several museum visits.
The missed bateau mouche tour on Friday afternoon allowed me to instead wander along the Seine and indulge in a little tourism. I visited the Institut de France, a breathtaking and imposing building:
The dome is gilded on the edges -- it doesn't show up very well in this photo, but it's spectacular.
After that, I wandered to the Pont Neuf, ironically enough the oldest and most historic bridge in Paris ("neuf" means "new"). I got a pretty good shot of the Pont Neuf :
Scenic, non? I then walked across the bridge and explored the western edge of the 1st arrondissment of Paris. This includes the tip of the Louvre (I have photos, but I won't subject you to them) and also Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois, this beautiful cathedral. Incidentally, Eva Longoria got married there earlier this summer. I think she made a good choice:
On Saturday, EDUCO took us to a gorgeous museum called the Musée Jacquemart-André, which was the private residence of an extremely wealthy couple who loved art. The mansion was built in the 19th century by the architect who came in second place to design the Paris Opera House, and he went all out on this project to spite the judges who didn't choose him. It's a beautiful building:
Yes, that's me on the steps. This is actually the back of the building -- the front is partially obscured by trees. I have photos of the front and also of the courtyard surrounding the back, but I'm not going to load them. Suffice to say it's beautiful, and the inside is sumptuously decorated and hung with paintings by artists like Rembrandt, Botticelli, Fragonard, Boucher, David, etc. It was incredible.
I have now been composing this post for two hours. I am sure you have been reading for 20 minutes or more, and if you've read the whole thing I applaud you. Frankly, I need to go recuperate, so I guess the description of my sporty Friday/Saturday nights, mega-touristy Saturday and lazy Sunday will have to wait. I may be wordy but I am also merciful.
Catch you cats on the flip side.
MK
Now listen, people. I have gotten all sorts of complaints about not updating, but if you note the date you will see this entry is only four days after my last. Thursday to Monday. I am flattered at the clamoring for my online attention, but sheesh. There's plenty of me to go around, and at the rate I'm eating crêpes there will be even more of me as the semester progresses.
That being said, I have indeed been neglectful of my blog. Therefore this will be the mother of all posts, containing more pictures, thoughts, stories, comments, observations and trivia than you can probably handle. Feel free to skim or read in installments. I hereby deny all responsibility for any injury you may incur reading this post in its entirety -- you have been warned.
I left off at the end of my first day here. The next day (Monday), I moved in to my host family's apartment. I have already said a little about them, but as I now have one more week of knowledge I can tell you more about life with the Montsaberts. My French is rapidly improving because they all make it a point to converse with me, and they all correct my grammatical errors. I am really glad they do, because it's nice to know when I'm making a mistake, but sometimes I laugh when I realize that I'm being corrected by a 13 year old. C'est la vie, non?
The differences between daily life here and life in the US are both smaller than you'd think and greater than you'd think. That is, the differences are not big ones, but sometimes it feels like a big adjustment. For example, a popular misconception in the US is that French people don't shower as often as we do, but that's not completely true. Some shower every other day, some every day, and I think some people I smell on the subway shower about once a month. The girls shower (haha, at first I typed "showever") every night, but their showers are much shorter and probably much colder than the typical US shower. This adjustment to shorter, colder showers is one I am frankly struggling with, but I am valiantly trying to cope. After my first shower here, I immediately thought "So THIS is why they don't shower every day!", but it's improved since then and now I'm only in there for about 6 minutes. I am interested in a detached, anthropological sort of way, and also terrified in a personal, dreading sort of way, to see what happens during the winter when I have to shower in a bathroom with the windows thrown wide open.
So the shower situation is a big adjustment for me, but some adjustments are much smaller and others are even improvements. I did a load of laundry this weekend and I wasn't even out of underwear yet, so I consider that an improvement. We hang the laundry to dry because my host family, like many French families, doesn't have a dryer. The drying rack is suspended over the bathtub with a pulley system, so we lower it to hang the clothes and then raise it again for the clothes to dry. Again, probably going to be interesting in the winter to see if my jeans dry at all or just freeze. I guess that's another adjustment -- all the windows are open all the time. I think part of the reason is that my host mother smokes out the window, but it also keeps a healthy breeze blowing through the apartment. At night, this means sweaters and thick socks in the apartment, but it's also nice to have the fresh air and not to be completely dependent on a heating/cooling system. I'm pretty sure there's a heating system for when it gets colder, but I guess I'll find out soon enough!
My room is actually a lot bigger than I thought it would be, although it's not huge. It also has great storage capacity -- even with the amount of stuff I brought, I still have extra space. I guess I'll just have to fill the space with French souvenirs. Here are a few photos I've taken of my room:
The view from the door. I keep most of my clothes in the pull-out drawers under the bed. The white lump you see on the floor at the end of the bed is my laundry bag (now empty!)
To the right of the door. As you can see, I even have a fireplace, but it's blocked off and I use it as a dresser. Also, you can see fresh flowers peeking out over the top of the computer -- I thought that was just something sweet to welcome me when I arrived, but this weekend Madame changed them! I wonder if I'll have fresh flowers every week.
Pictures of my family on the side of my mirror.It's quite fun to live in a household with the two younger girls. They're very lively and always greet me enthusiastically when we see each other, even if it's the fourth time that day. They lent me their twin stuffed cats to take care of indefinitely, who now sit on my "dresser", a.k.a. blocked-off fireplace mantel:
Their names are Moser and Rex. Every time Maude enters my room, which is about once a day, she takes the cats and demands in a squeaky voice that I feed them sunflower seeds ("mais, Marie, nous avons faim!") Both the girls seem quite taken with the sunflower seeds and also the popcorn that I gave them as part of a host gift to the family. We haven't popped the popcorn yet, but I'm sure that will also be an adventure. Maude hijacked my camera last week and gave me this delightful image, among others:
She's really much cuter than the photo, but it will be difficult to prove. When I tried to take a picture of both girls, this is what I got:
They pretended to be asleep. Ah, well. Maybe one day I will miraculously capture a good picture of both of them without their knowledge.My host family's apartment is decorated with interesting photos from their travels as well as paintings by one of Madame's sisters/the girls' aunt. Here is a painting she did of one of the girls (I'm not sure which one):
I think it's a really cool painting. Madame takes all the photographs, which are primarily of girls and women from different South Asian countries in their native dress and environment. Juliette and Maude were adopted from Vietnam, so I suspect that has a lot to do with the family's vacation choices and the photography subject material. They went to Bali this past summer, and apparently they've been to Thailand and other amazing places. One of the girls' many aunts -- I'm not sure if she's the same one who did the painting -- is currently in Thailand for two weeks. There are constantly aunts in the house; Madame has 7 siblings (apparently most of them are sisters, as I've never seen a brother) and they all live nearby. It's an aunt infestation! (groan ...)Right now Juliette keeps interrupting me -- she's trying to send me text messages on my new French cell phone and for some reason it's not working. I gave her the number earlier today and now I am wondering if that was a mistake. Her mother thinks she is in bed, but instead she keeps talking to me through the wall. Lord only knows what will happen when she gets the text messages to work. I may have to remind her I only have a certain number of texts per month!
This weekend we had the girls' cousin Thibault (pronounced "tee-bo") over. He's only two years old, so his French is about the same level as mine -- it would have been great to chat with someone who wouldn't correct my grammar if he hadn't been insanely afraid of me. Seriously, every time he saw me he started to cry. Maybe I should try a different hairstyle?
After I moved in last week, I started orientation classes. I have two weeks of orientation -- one of them is now over and I'm starting the second -- and then classes start next Monday. In the meantime, we're taking orientation classes. One is a grammar review (tedious, but necessary) and one is a cultural class that consists of a very nice French lady telling us why France is better than any other country. My study abroad program is called EDUCO, which stands for Emory, Duke and Cornell. Students from all three schools attend the orientation, take classes and do activities together, so it's been fun to get to know the Duke and Cornell students. We have a small group this year, only about 35 students. Apparently EDUCO normally has 45 or so, but I'm glad we have a smaller group because we can all get to know each other better and more of us can participate in the weekly activities. The weekly activities are things like museum visits, cooking classes and excursions to other places within France that EDUCO plans and pays for -- this weekend the whole group is going to Normandy, and I think it's going to be awesome. Our other orientation activities have included a bateau mouche tour (one of those open sightseeing boats on the Seine), which I unfortunately missed due to schedule confusion, and several museum visits.
The missed bateau mouche tour on Friday afternoon allowed me to instead wander along the Seine and indulge in a little tourism. I visited the Institut de France, a breathtaking and imposing building:
The dome is gilded on the edges -- it doesn't show up very well in this photo, but it's spectacular.After that, I wandered to the Pont Neuf, ironically enough the oldest and most historic bridge in Paris ("neuf" means "new"). I got a pretty good shot of the Pont Neuf :
Scenic, non? I then walked across the bridge and explored the western edge of the 1st arrondissment of Paris. This includes the tip of the Louvre (I have photos, but I won't subject you to them) and also Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois, this beautiful cathedral. Incidentally, Eva Longoria got married there earlier this summer. I think she made a good choice:
On Saturday, EDUCO took us to a gorgeous museum called the Musée Jacquemart-André, which was the private residence of an extremely wealthy couple who loved art. The mansion was built in the 19th century by the architect who came in second place to design the Paris Opera House, and he went all out on this project to spite the judges who didn't choose him. It's a beautiful building:
Yes, that's me on the steps. This is actually the back of the building -- the front is partially obscured by trees. I have photos of the front and also of the courtyard surrounding the back, but I'm not going to load them. Suffice to say it's beautiful, and the inside is sumptuously decorated and hung with paintings by artists like Rembrandt, Botticelli, Fragonard, Boucher, David, etc. It was incredible.I have now been composing this post for two hours. I am sure you have been reading for 20 minutes or more, and if you've read the whole thing I applaud you. Frankly, I need to go recuperate, so I guess the description of my sporty Friday/Saturday nights, mega-touristy Saturday and lazy Sunday will have to wait. I may be wordy but I am also merciful.
Catch you cats on the flip side.
MK
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Zut alors!
Hello everyone!
You know, I promised a nice long blog right now with lots of photos and captions and everything, and I don't think I'm going to be able to follow through completely on that promise until later tonight. I am leaving soon to go to dinner with fellow study abroad friends -- the first dinner I will have with friends instead of with my host family.
Speaking of my host family, they are SO nice. It is a mom (Mme de Montsabert) and twin 13-year-old girls (Juliette et Maude). The mother is very warm and welcoming; she keeps telling me "Chez moi, c'est comme chez toi," which is the French equivalent of "mi casa es su casa." The girls are quite chatty and often speak entirely too quickly for me to follow exactly what they are saying -- Juliette is good about slowing down, but she often has to "translate" for mile-a-minute Maude. They are much more childlike than 13-year-olds in the US, which I think is true of many French children. They are into playing and making really goofy jokes, which is way more fun than them being sulky and trying to act "mature."
The reason I haven't been able to blog nearly as much as I've wanted to is that the last few days have been an absolute whirlwind of jet lag combined with a bunch of new experiences. I arrived on Sunday at 8:00 a.m., which as you know is an absolutely ungodly hour for me in the first place. Combine that with very little sleep the night before I left, an entire day spent flying to Philly/hanging out in the Philly airport/boarding my flight to France, and an entire night on a cramped airplane with a screaming infant on board (no exaggeration, he screamed all night), et voila -- le jet lag! It's a good thing there was a fellow EDUCO student sitting right in front of me (Erica), as well as another Emory EDUCO person on the plane (Julia) to help me flag down a taxi and get to the hotel in one piece.
After the taxi ride, we arrived at the hotel and brought our luggage upstairs -- I was very happy to see Julia schlepping at least as much baggage as I was, although apparently she didn't have to pay the $50 overage charges I did (ouch) even though her bag was 10 lbs heavier. Then we browsed one of the many Paris street markets and had a very leisurely lunch at a cafe, which was partly due to soaking in the Paris atmosphere and partly because all of us were so jet-lagged we didn't want to move. After that, my new friend Erica and I explored the area for a little while. We were in the Marais neighborhood, right by the Opera Bastille and Place des Vosges -- lots of cool art galleries and unique, upscale shops. Then we returned to the hotel and Erica and I napped for about 2 hours before our orientation meeting. This is the size of our hotel room (with Erica):
Imagine that plus one bed squeezed into the other side, plus two girls' luggage for four months and you get the idea. However, the view was tres charmant:
And here is Julia demonstrating how all of us gathered to log in to the Internet and send messages to our families and friends letting them know we're still alive.
Anyway, that's all I have time for, but at least that gets you through the first day. More later!
Bises,
MK
You know, I promised a nice long blog right now with lots of photos and captions and everything, and I don't think I'm going to be able to follow through completely on that promise until later tonight. I am leaving soon to go to dinner with fellow study abroad friends -- the first dinner I will have with friends instead of with my host family.
Speaking of my host family, they are SO nice. It is a mom (Mme de Montsabert) and twin 13-year-old girls (Juliette et Maude). The mother is very warm and welcoming; she keeps telling me "Chez moi, c'est comme chez toi," which is the French equivalent of "mi casa es su casa." The girls are quite chatty and often speak entirely too quickly for me to follow exactly what they are saying -- Juliette is good about slowing down, but she often has to "translate" for mile-a-minute Maude. They are much more childlike than 13-year-olds in the US, which I think is true of many French children. They are into playing and making really goofy jokes, which is way more fun than them being sulky and trying to act "mature."
The reason I haven't been able to blog nearly as much as I've wanted to is that the last few days have been an absolute whirlwind of jet lag combined with a bunch of new experiences. I arrived on Sunday at 8:00 a.m., which as you know is an absolutely ungodly hour for me in the first place. Combine that with very little sleep the night before I left, an entire day spent flying to Philly/hanging out in the Philly airport/boarding my flight to France, and an entire night on a cramped airplane with a screaming infant on board (no exaggeration, he screamed all night), et voila -- le jet lag! It's a good thing there was a fellow EDUCO student sitting right in front of me (Erica), as well as another Emory EDUCO person on the plane (Julia) to help me flag down a taxi and get to the hotel in one piece.
After the taxi ride, we arrived at the hotel and brought our luggage upstairs -- I was very happy to see Julia schlepping at least as much baggage as I was, although apparently she didn't have to pay the $50 overage charges I did (ouch) even though her bag was 10 lbs heavier. Then we browsed one of the many Paris street markets and had a very leisurely lunch at a cafe, which was partly due to soaking in the Paris atmosphere and partly because all of us were so jet-lagged we didn't want to move. After that, my new friend Erica and I explored the area for a little while. We were in the Marais neighborhood, right by the Opera Bastille and Place des Vosges -- lots of cool art galleries and unique, upscale shops. Then we returned to the hotel and Erica and I napped for about 2 hours before our orientation meeting. This is the size of our hotel room (with Erica):
Imagine that plus one bed squeezed into the other side, plus two girls' luggage for four months and you get the idea. However, the view was tres charmant:
And here is Julia demonstrating how all of us gathered to log in to the Internet and send messages to our families and friends letting them know we're still alive.
Anyway, that's all I have time for, but at least that gets you through the first day. More later!
Bises,
MK
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
More to come ...
Gah, it took me years to log on here. Now that I am finally on, I must go, but I wanted to let everyone know that I am alive and doing well and a full update will follow later this afternoon, complete with photos and a full description of my first few days en France.
A bientôt!
A bientôt!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
