C'est la vie

   

      Over the weekend, our group traveled to Marseille and Arles in southern France. We took the TGV- the train à grande vitesse (high speed train)-from the gare de Lyon early Friday morning and it took less time to travel across the entire country of France than to drive to my cabin in northern Minnesota. I've been wanting to see the Mediterranean for years and it was really cool to be able to finally be there. The weather was so warm that some of the people in our group were wearing shorts, while the Marseillais were dressed like they were in danger of frostbite. We got a nice tour of the old part of town, le panier (literally "the basket") that reminded me a lot of the Italian hilltowns. We had the night off to explore the city, but I got sick at the restaurant, so it stayed pretty low-key. In the morning, we got the chance to see the Château d'If, which is a prison that was made famous by Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. I wish I had read it beforehand, but now I have my very own copy that is basically the size of a shoebox.

Port of Marseille

At the Château d'If

     Marseille felt like a small town- 800,000 people feels small to me now- and it was nice to get out of Paris and feel like I could breathe again, and also in Arles, which actually is quite small with about 70,000 people. Saturday afternoon, we took another train to Arles. I wish we had more time there because I think I would've really enjoyed learning more about the city, but we were definitely rushed. We got to see the Roman ruins and ampitheatre that still exist in the center of town, which looks like a mini-Rome. The mistral, the wind that comes up off the Mediterranean, was absolutely insane. On Saturday night, we walked down to see the Rhône that runs through Arles and the wind was so strong I couldn't walk straight.

     I got to sit in first class on the way back, which would have been great to sleep in, but there was too much conversation going on. It was really great to have everyone together and I'm pretty sure I laughed the entire weekend. After having so much fun, I came home to Paris to find out my grandma had died an hour earlier. She had Alzheimer's for twelve years, so I'm happy she can finally be free. I don't know if there's a worse way out in life. Though I knew this was coming, I still can't really believe that she's gone and that I can't be there. It's really tragic that I never got to know her as an adult since she hasn't recognized me for five years. She was everything that I think really matters in life- to be kind-hearted, modest, determined, loving and always up for a laugh, even till the end. Now when I think about her, I picture her from my older memories instead- in her golfing clothes, her bright pink lipstick, forcing seconds on everyone at the table and giving such good hugs that they hurt.

    This week has been a little off. I'm exhausted and a little sick and I think I might have ordered a sandwich au japon today instead of a sandwich au jambon. I got lost on the way home from my internship today on the line that I take every single day. I could really use a hug from my mom, whose hugs are comparable to Grandma's. Mais c'est la vie, n'est-ce pas?

Rachel

I first came to Paris...one month ago...

     As of today, one month has passed since I arrived in Paris. I feel like I've lived here all my life, but I also feel like  it's all just beginning, which is probably because I started my internship this week at French Travel Partners and my classes at the Catholic Institute of Paris.

    This is how you can tell I've been here a month: 

First week of school- it's so pretty!

      I get recognized at our favorite bars and restaurants. I take the metro most days without even looking at a map. I cook most of my meals at home, with dinner at 8 pm at the earliest. I've figured out how to do laundry (it's awful here). I read books in French during my daily commute (An hour to my internship! Yuck!). I get asked questions everywhere I go about where to find things (But I usually just say je ne sais pas). I'm starting to get picky about my bread and fruit. I sometimes have trouble speaking in English and I certainly can't spell in it anymore (Which is a shame because I was once the 4th place winner in my school spelling bee. I used to really be somebody.)

     My school is so gorgeous and I'm actually really excited that classes have started despite my "not a morning person" attitude I usually have until about noon. My classes are each 3 hours long, but they meet once a week. I'm in class Tuesday and Thursday and at my internship Monday, Wednesday and Friday for a grand total of 12 hours of class time per week and 21 at my internship. I can already tell my French has improved so much in the past month and I can't wait to see how good I'll be at the end of the semester. But actually I can wait, because I don't want this to end.

Off to the south of France tomorrow! 

Bisous,

Rachel

"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." -Oscar Wilde

     This weekend was really centered around death. I got to see the Père-Lachaise and Montparnasse cemeteries, of which the first one is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Père-Lachaise is full of mossy tombs, statues and gravestones that date from all different eras and mark so many famous names, it's truly amazing. I made it to the graves of Edith Piaf, Sarah Bernhardt, Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde (which has the tradition of being kissed) and Chopin. Even though it's a 45 minute commute, I really want to go back and find others that I missed, like Gertrude Stein and just read a book there or something. 

Kissing Oscar Wilde

     Today was not a good day. I started my internship at 9 AM, which I tried to be positive about, but it really gets old when you feel like a two-year-old all day long. I wasn't given a lot of work to do, but it was hard to understand and be understood entirely in French, especially with tourism industry-specialized words, like pax, which apparently is internationally recognized as "persons." For lunch, which is from 1-2 pm in France, it was interesting to see all the other working French go out and get their lunch to-go, as in a sandwich at a boulangerie or various hot made-from-scratch meals. What a different experience lunch during work is here. During my summer job, I speed away from work in my car to the nearest fast-food place, throw a burger in my mouth, scatter fries all over the floor while probably driving with a knee or two and then I still show up late. I'm definitely liking the lunch scene better over here. By 6 PM, I was almost nodding off and my boss thankfully let me go home. (I took myself shopping on the Champs-Élysées instead.)

     To continue my fun, I decided to do laundry. Joy! I had heard that the American who lived in my room last semester got her clothes stuck in the washing machine for three days. I put on a brave face tonight, put my coins in and hoped for the best. Guess whose clothes are stuck this semester? This girl.

    Can't wait to get away to Arles and Marseille this weekend.

Rachel

The City of Love

     This week has been particularly challenging. I had two examens this week- one on Tuesday (just a regular test for class) and one today. Today we took the Test d'Evaluation de Français (TEF) which will give us a standardized level of our French competency that we can put on our résumés. We'll be taking the test again at the end of the semester to see our progress. So basically taking the test today was for fun, since we'll (hopefully) score much better in May. It was extremely difficult, that's all I can say. I've also been having a hard time getting to class on time. On Tuesday, I rolled in 45 minutes late to our 2-hour class. It's so hard getting up in the morning when I don't get enough sleep and my room is freezing. I better not be late on Monday to my first day at French Travel Partners!

     On a happier note, the temperature is finally back up to the upper 40s, which feels like summer to me. I broke out my lighter jacket and was about ready to wear flip flops to class, too. Meanwhile, the Parisians are still wearing gloves, hats and scarves. If they think this is cold, no wonder the weather was the top story on the news when it was in the 20s. I've gotten quite a few aren't-you-cold stares since I've been walking around with an unzipped leather jacket all week. But honestly, if I tried to bundle up like everyone else, I'd have a heatstroke. I'm just too Minnesotan to pretend 45 is cold.

   I'm feeling pretty lucky that I haven't gotten sick yet, since almost everyone in our group has gotten sick in the past few weeks. As the level of hand sanitizer in my little bottle that I brought has lowered, my disgust for everything in the métro has gone up. People cough and sneeze on everything and I've seen several piles of vomit dotting the quais, as well as a man staggering around and bleeding all over the place. Since I'm so grossed out, I'm getting quite good at balancing myself on the train without holding on- the one pro of having big feet in a country that laughs when you ask for your shoe size.

     On Tuesday, us single girls (which I think is almost everyone) decided to avoid the ridiculous romance that was probably happening around town (and basically everyday) and have a girls night. We treated ourselves to tiramisù, profiteroles, rigatoni and nice white wine in the Latin Quarter, before holing ourselves for the rest of the night at the foyer with the Eiffel Tower view, trying not to think about how many romantic dates were probably going on there at that moment. C'est la vie !  

Rachel

Tiramisù, because I deserve it! (Even if I had to buy it for myself)

Our Valentine's Day!

'S Wonderful, 'S Marvelous

 
     I think I've let enough time pass to really admit that I'm in love with Paris. I love the way the bread crackles when it's split apart, the man who plays the accordion in the Duroc station every morning on the way to class, and the way that dressing nicely is just normal here. Everything I've read about Americans coming to live in Paris has been true so far, including the bad- the frustrations, the seeming lack of logic- and the good- just about everything. For my first few weeks, I felt like I was pretending to be a Parisian, like I might as well have been wearing a red beret and striped shirt while gnawing on a baguette (Well, the baguette part is actually true), and now I feel like I can pass as the Real Deal to the untrained eye.    

     I'm starting to have tourists ask me where to find things, even though I want to tell them "It's okay, I'm really just one one of you, too!" I can navigate the city by métro without consulting my city map book every single time. I can go to Franprix (The local grocery store chain where I found peanut butter and salsa! YES!) and bring my own bag for my groceries since they don't offer any. I have yet to figure out how to throw my money back into my wallet and pack my groceries fast enough so I don't slow everyone down and get stared at. I don't know how they do it so fast. To the other shoppers, I probably look like I have oven mitts for hands, dropping coins everywhere and loading yogurts pretty much with two hands into my bag. 

   Yesterday we visited Les Invalides, which is a large Baroque building that was once a hospital (and still partially is, I think) and now houses Napoleon Bonaparte's tomb and the French military museum. It was fascinating to see endless hallways of uniforms and weapons from all different wars and eras. We even saw Napoleon's preserved horse, which is probably one of the weirdest things I've ever seen. 

     Another thing I love about living in Paris is that I can do whatever I want whenever I want to. We went shopping on the Champs-Élysées for a while to find me some warmer clothes (It's still like 25 degrees here) have a coffee and a pastry. Just a typical Saturday, right? I love that I can take line 13 all the way there whenever I have the urge to shop. Yesterday I realized that coming here has been the greatest decision I have made so far in my life, and that feels pretty wonderful and marvelous to say.

Rachel

Les Invalides- that dome is the one that you can see under the Eiffel Tower.

Napoleon

Napoleon's horse- isn't that crazy and gross?

Good times with good people

Anyone Can Cook (Except Me)

     Tonight we had a cooking class at Tours de Cuisine. We were divided into partners and each pair had to make three plates. Diana and I made choux (pastries filled with chocolate), a vegetable tiramisu with layers of black olives, tomatoes, cheese and cucumbers in a small glass, and then bacon-wrapped turkey with a layer of chestnut stuffing inside. It was really difficult because the recipes were in French and we were told to just start. First thing I did was spill half of the ingredients on the hot plate, which set the theme for how the rest of the cooking went. We weren't taught how to do it, so when we made mistakes, it was too late. It was like Top Chef for people who don't cook. We were rushing around with eggs and raw meat all over our hands and had absolutely no idea what we were doing. I also realized how many foods I'm not familiar with when cooking (Most foods). We mostly just laughed through the whole thing and everything turned out sloppy.

Our choux that we made! They were actually really good!

Me with Fiifi, Diana, Anna and Pili- we love cooking, obviously!

    Being the world's pickiest eater, France has made me try so many new things already...black olives, chestnuts, salmon, and now...mushrooms! I ate an entire mushroom- it was HUGE -for the first time in my life! It wasn't bad, but I definitely felt like I was eating a cow eyeball on Fear Factor. Such a baby, I know! It was fun learning how to make such fancy cuisine, but at heart I really just prefer comfort food like a good ol' steak and fries. Anything on the grill and I'm happy! As Gusteau in Ratatouille says, "Anyone can cook." But should they? Probably not. Just go to a restaurant.

Rachel

“How sad the world is, so beautiful yet so absurd...” ― Irène Némirovsky, Suite Française

     Today I had my entretien de stage (internship interview) at French Travel Partners on the rue Amelot in the 11th arrondissement. The company organizes group stays in France and books accommodations and tours for incoming tourists. So did I prepare at all? Of course not. I rushed over there after realizing I didn't have as much time as I thought after my class, so I ran out of the Chemin Vert station and found the building just in time (The area is so beautiful!) I was given a code to enter the courtyard, but no one told me where to go inside the courtyard. After five minutes of walking in circles trying to find a way in, I buzzed myself in and went up to meet my maître de stage (boss), Béatrice. She was so kind and the interview was easier and more laid-back than any I've ever had. She told me that I speak really good French and that she'll see me soon, which is a huge compliment since she could've just hired a French intern, and not had to deal with an American. She introduced me to the others in the office, and they were all very friendly, too. I'm interning February 20th to April 13th, which falls into a really intense period of work, so I will be helping to book accommodations by phone, email and fax and help out with translation. Ten minutes after getting there, I was headed back out! Success! I feel like L.C. now with my very own fancy Paris internship. Too bad it's not for a magazine or a fashion house!

Interview outfit!

      To treat myself, I went on an adventure instead of going home. I found Shakespeare & Co., the famous English bookstore previously run by Sylvia Beach in another location. It reminded me of Diagon Alley and I also kind of felt like Jo from Funny Face in her Greenwich Village bookstore. The upstairs has a piano and places to read and lounge, which is so cool. It was so bizarre to hear everyone in the store speaking English and hearing "Oh, sorry!" when I got bumped around (It's pretty cramped). I bought The Last Time I Saw Paris by Lynn Sheene, The Most Beautiful Walk in the World: A Pedestrian in Paris by John Baxter (Who was at the store last night to promote it, but I didn't make it!) and a SIGNED copy of A Secret Kept by Tatiana de Rosnay, the author of Sarah's Key. 

     

Inside Shakespeare & Co.

Signed by Tatiana de Rosnay! (I know, it was written for someone else. Whatever.)

    

     Since I was thinking about Sarah's Key (Which is a book/movie about the Holocaust in Paris), I decided to go find the Vel' d'Hiv' near the Bir-Hakeim station right by the Eiffel Tower. The Vel' d'Hiv' was a bicycle racing stadium that the French government had used to detain 28,000 arrested Jews for a few days before they were sent to Auschwitz in 1942. The building is gone now and is replaced by lots of industrial buildings, but there is a memorial to apologize for the government's actions in a small area by the river, the Place des Martyrs-Juifs-du-Velodrome-d'Hiver. It was so cold, but at least that meant I was the only one there. I'm going to find the rue de Saintonge some other day, which is the street in the book where Sarah's family was taken from their apartment in the Marais. It's so strange to think that the Holocaust touched Paris. You'd never know what happened by just looking around and snapping pictures of the Eiffel Tower, which is only about a block away.

Rachel

"N'oublions jamais" (Never forget)

The Devil Wears Zara

     This weekend I was dying to have my first real Parisian shopping experience and I definitely got it. Right now, it's les soldes, which are the sales that happen twice a year- once after Christmas and once in the summer- and are put in place by the government. Apparently shops can't have sales whenever they want to, like at home. We went to Galeries Lafayette, which is like an extremely ritzy Macy's that makes the Mall of America look like a dump. I also got my first taste of Zara and I, right away, wanted to buy everything in the store, but settled on a nice cardigan for my internship.

The ceiling of Galeries Lafayette- gorgeous!

    Shopping made me feel like a dump. For the past while, I've felt like I can dress pretty well in this town, but I was wrong. I was in an H&M and some girl just had this giant Miu Miu handbag and Louboutin heels. No big deal. Women in Paris look amazing without even trying. I work on my hair every morning and still don't look half as good as the parisiennes who don't even touch theirs. And they all wear high heels all the time, which I've started doing too. There are very few escalators and close to zero elevators, yet everyone just prances up the steps in their teetering heels. No big deal. One of these days I'm going to tumble down the cement stairs and that Jean Dujardin poster will just be smiling at me, as usual. Psh.

On the chilly terrace- look it's the Eiffel Tower!

It was just too cold outside! (Note: That's my new Zara cardigan)

     It's been ridiculously cold here, like -5 celsius, yet last night we cracked open some bottles of wine out on Mary Kate's terrace at Foyer International, which has a perfect view of everything in Paris. It reminded me of the view when Remy first gets to the rooftops of Paris in Ratatouille. Paris really is merveilleux!

Rachel