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A Month of Observations

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Living in Paris for over a month has sufficiently allowed me enough time to a) know where to get the cheapest happy hour, b) avoid certain hours on the metro for fear of being a sardine during rush hour, and c) come up with a good summation of thoughts on Parisiens. I cannot wait to share with you.

The first thing I have to say about Paris is it is NOT a myth that everyone smokes. My friends and I frequently discuss this topic, especially when walking around near a high school seeing 13 or 14 year olds outside on their breaks chain-smoking in groups of 10 or 20. Or sitting at cafes we have certainly commented on the fact that we do not believe smoking should be legal when an adolescent is still wearing braces… Many times in my life if someone asked me if I smoke, I would be offended. But here, it’s the opposite. You should most often assume that whomever you’re talking to does smoke, it’s just safer that way.

I’m one of those people who are obsessed with babies. I would be a baby snatcher if I could. Especially well-dressed French-speaking babies. Every day when I walk down the street (I live right next to a school), I smile at all the little children dressed in their pea coats walking hand in hand with a grandparent or in a stroller. Then I forget where I am and that I cannot be smiling at a stranger, let alone a child, ever. It’s not normally something you would think about – someone holds the door open for you, you smile and say thank you. But in Paris, no no no. Smiling at strangers is a serious faux-pas. On the metro, there is no smiling, no talking, no looking, for that matter. If you make eye contact with the person sitting across from you, thou shalt look away as fast as humanly possible. And if a stranger next to you sneezes, do not say bless you. It just embarrasses them.

After Madame got back from the Edward Hopper exhibit the other day, we were going through the exhibition program over a cup of tea and discussing how the American painter differed from many French artists. His representation of American life made me think about the differences I had noticed between these two cultures. While in the American artist’s painting there is normally a figure or two sitting together in a space, they will not be interacting with each other. This reminds me about the fakeness of Americans and while I would generalize and say that we are friendly people, sometimes I associate that friendliness with a fakeness that only Americans truly understand. We could be “BFF” with someone in half a second, but whether that relationship continues and contains any real substance, that hardly ever comes from an instantaneous connection. The French are withheld and individualistic – and that I love and hate about them. Relationships are hard to form, but once they are there, they are much deeper.

Here is a Hopper painting that I found particularly interesting. Most of his subjects look similar. A lot of focus on simplicity, the color, and light. With one or two subjects but without interaction. His commentary on what it is like to have an American life is definitely not what I would have originally thought of, but now that I have looked more at his work, I definitely agree with his somewhat negative commentary.

There’s a million and one things I could say about the Parisiens, but I shall refrain. They are a very particular people to love, but I do love them. I love that they love to hate everything. It’s their passion for everything they do that resonates with me. Their love of food (and not eating it), smoking, their language, themselves, it’s all just too fabulous not to enjoy. I’m ignoring the fact that I have 2 months left here, because in my mind, I’ll be here forever.

Return of the Crazysash

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As I find myself procrastinating writing my first real (and 3-page) essay of the semester, I’m realizing how screwed I am once I get back to school. So far, classes have been easy enough, besides getting past the understanding-everything-the-professors-are-saying thing. But I haven’t had much real work besides a few daily readings and nonsense assignments. Midterms start next week and in at least one class I have NO idea what the test will be on. That class is the history of Paris, which is interesting enough, except my teacher is 80 years old. To further illustrate, we had a 3 hour walking tour around le Marais on Thursday (the equivalent of our Friday), and how the time did NOT pass quickly. It’s an interesting subject but I find myself day dreaming a lot in that class. Wish me luck for my tests next week!

Meanwhile, I’m sufficiently 4 or 5 lbs heavier after returning from a short, but much-needed, trip to Brussels. Some girls and I bought $15 round-trip bus tickets to Brussels for the night on Saturday, pretty much just because we can, (and also we were craving fries.) Lots and lots of fries. I almost didn’t make it on the bus though, due to my reliance on technology… When I got to to the bus to give the driver my reservation number, my email wouldn’t pull up and I couldn’t get WiFi anywhere. I must have good karma though because he believed me that I had bought a ticket and there were extra seats on the bus anyways so he let me on. My friends didn’t have such good luck on the way home, though. Two of them had bought tickets a few days after the rest of us, so our bus on the return had sold out. So they bought one thinking that it was leaving 10 minutes after ours. Only today did they discover that what they thought was 2pm did not translate to 14:00, and their bus had left at 2am that night, so they had long missed it. There was only one open seat on the bus so they didn’t separate and just stayed in Brussels, apparently buying a new bus ride back home leaving at 1:30am. Brussels isn’t a bad place to be stranded though. It’s almost like Willy Wonka land with all the fries, beer, chocolate, and waffles. It was a glorious 24 hours.

Now that I think of it, I spent almost all of my weekend eating, which is just how it should be. Thursday after my field trip that lasted a century, I got the long-awaited L’as du Falafel for a little taste of the Middle East. Divine. That night was two girl’s 21st birthdays so we celebrated properly by dancing the night way in a club near l’Arc. Friday we spent all day at the Montmartre wine festival called “Fete des Vendanges” and I consumed 2 of the best mulled wines I have ever tasted, part of a sausage and sauteed onion sandwich, some potatoes and cheese, more wine tasting, and more cheese. That night we went all the way back up to Montmartre to a famous fondue place and gorged once more, before becoming too annoyed with the angry French waiter and the pissed-drunk American girls in the corner before going to bed early before Saturday’s bus ride.

Upon returning back to Paris, it seems like it suddenly turned to winter. I’m not one for the cold, hence my dislike for skiing and my relocation to California to go to school, but it is nice to actually have distinct seasons for once. When showing an SCU friend around this weekend, she kept commenting on how beautiful it was to see fall for once, since she has been studying in Barcelona, and I definitely agreed.

I do actually have a couple classes I’m particularly enjoying. One is phonetics, where we’re actively learning how to sound like true Parisiens, awesome, and the other is history of photography. For that class, I’m excited to do a photo project of our choice, mine being “Fall in Paris,” with my partner Katherine modeling the shots for me. It’s mostly fun because I get to boss her around and take pictures of her, but it’s also fantastic because it’s a really wide-open project and I’m excited that I get graded for taking pictures – something that I love to do.

I made a lot of new friends this week, as per usual Crazysash behavior, both in Paris and in Brussels, but for now I am sure I will never be seeing them again. That’s the beauty of being somewhere new – you never know who you’re going to meet and who you’re going to see again, so why be afraid of putting yourself out there? It has normally always worked out for me and I wish more people felt comfortable doing the same with me. It’s too fun not to!

I have many new pictures to show you all but I suppose I actually have to finish that essay now… Meanwhile, I’m depleting my bank account at a rapid rate and am now accepting donations to my cultural abroad (food) fund! (Only joking).

Bisous!

Some Musings…

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There’s nothing quite like hearing about the sadness of another person’s situation that makes you want to re-evaluate your own. Regardless of whether or not you know an individual who has personally been affected by a terrible event in their life, it makes you wonder about the precious time we all have left here with each other. And that really is the bottom line after all, spending the time we have with the people that we love.

This reality has become all that more clear to me while living halfway across the world from the people I care most about. To think that anything tragic could happen to one of these people at any given point in time scares me, but I know there’s nothing I can do about it. The one thing I can do from my place here is to let you all know that I care and that I’m thinking about you, and even if I don’t manage to send you a postcard or text message, know that you’re still in the back of my mind.

I’m not into “YOLO” or “Carpe diem” so much as I am about doing what I love to do. For me, that means just as much as “seizing the day.” I love to have fun and I can be spontaneous and crazy at times, but that kind of attitude has taken on a new meaning for me here. Some people’s abroad experience is about drinking in a foreign country – legality at it’s finest – and that’s just fine with me. But I came to the realization that I’m not going to remember partying anyways, so what’s really the point? The point is, have fun with your friends and experience the culture in a way that you can’t at home. I’m all about that. But I don’t feel the need to be extreme about it, jeopardize my health and wallet, and be known for something that I’m really not.

I think about the book “Tuesdays With Morrie” a lot. This is a book a first read in 7th or 8th grade, came back to at the end of senior year when I was coming to terms with a death in my own life, and now again, just to gain some perspective. The words of Morrie Schwartz spoke to me a long time ago as they still do now: accepting the things you cannot change, learning to die so you can learn to live, and giving out love so you can let it come in.

We could all take a moment in our day when we put things into perspective. With birthdays coming up, instead of dreading the fact that we may be growing another year older, we could be thankful to have the opportunity. When life gets ahead of us, it’s important to know we’re actually present on the earth and that we have the chance to try again the next day. The things we sometimes get wrapped up in are pretty insignificant on the whole. I think we could all use a reminder of that.

On that note – enjoy the rain, clouds, sunshine, moonlight, or whatever it is you see outside your window today.

All my love.