Last Paris video...for now

I finally made myself sit down and create my last monthly video of my thirteen months in Paris. Normally I would have them finished and posted on the first of the month, but this time I just couldn't get myself to put it together knowing this was the last of my footage and the last memories I'll have of Paris...until next time.

Love,

Rachel

You Are Just A Little Speck

"Americans always think Europe is perfect. But such beauty and history can be really oppressive. It reduces the individual to nothing. It just reminds you all the time you are just a little speck in a long history."

-Before Sunrise, 1995

--------------

     If I was stupid enough to have a swear jar in Paris, I'd probably have enough funds to get a bigger apartment. So much of my time during this weird, getting-back-into-the-swing-of-Paris-life period consists of me muttering not very quietly under my breath and making Jim Halpert faces to no one in particular. The Paris you see in movies is from an imaginary, sunny world when little fairies move the crowds out and the sun in. The real Paris, the other ninety-eight percent of the time, kind of makes you feel a little more violent inside than is probably socially acceptable.

     But no, I don't hate Paris. Obviously. I'm just confused and have a lot of burning questions.

1. How sanitary are baguettes? Am I just a huge American germophobe who wouldn't dream of buying food that isn't vacuum-sealed, or is it actually just a little bit questionable how, when you buy bread in France, half the baguette is out of the bag and they usually chuck it right on the counter while you're paying? People walk around everywhere with unwrapped baguettes just poking out of their bags. Call me crazy, but that has always unsettled me. Food poisoning isn't a route I'd like to travel down for a second time, merci.

2. Why does Monoprix sell nail polish and nail files, but no nail clippers? I didn't pack any because the airport would probably confiscate them just because I'm Rachel and always get stopped, so my nails were starting to turn into talons before I just went into a tourist shop and bought a pair with a big purple Eiffel Tower on it (It also doubles as a beer opener). Monoprix, the closest thing France has to Target, also sells adult-sized towels for thirty euros. I instead bought one for half the price and thus half the size. Again, maybe I'm just a huge person. The mirrors certainly seem to think so, since I have to bend down in front of every single one.

3. Why are business hours so limited? I'm down with stores being closed on Sundays. I get it. I truly do. But how are you supposed to get anything accomplished during the other six days when many businesses are closed from 1 to 2 P.M. and close at 5 or 6? This isn't small town America, I don't think. If you work full-time, how do you ever get to the bank? Thinking it was open until 5:30, I walked confidently into my bank on avenue Bosquet and said to the teller, Bonjour, je voudrais retirer de l'argent, s'il vous plaît. I had been repeating that phrase in my head all the way down the street from the métro. He looked blankly at me and said they closed at 5. It was 5:02. Why in the hell didn't they lock the door then? And here's a concept, how about not being a douchebag and just quickly getting my money?

4. Why does the RER suck so much? Now that I have to take it every day, I kind of want to start beating my head on the seat in front of me. That is, if I even get a seat (I usually don't).

5. Why do I feel ashamed eating while walking around but French people pick their noses? Almost every time I've bought a croissant (I'm keeping a tally for the year- I'm at thirteen so far), I feel every single Parisian turn their eyes in disgust towards me. Like I'm the one picking my nose. Or I'm the one sneezing without covering my face. I usually hit up a boulangerie and head for a side street where I can devour my bread away from their judgment.

6. Why do people in Paris think it's cold outside? Last time I checked, it was about sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Please stop judging me for not wearing a parka and scarf. I really don't want my Minnesota body to heat-stroke out in order to pretend this is really cold and wear what you all are wearing.

     I think a lot of my frustration is coming from the readjustment into really-big city life. Sure, I lived in Minneapolis for my four years of college, but Paris has twelve million people. That's four times the population of my metro area at home. So no, my Minneapolitan friends, you do not live in a big city despite all the bike lanes and hipsters and moderate traffic flow. In Paris, we are all crammed into these Haussmann buildings like sardines, so once people get out onto the boulevards, I guess they don't really give a shit about each other. For all the times I've been bumped into, coughed on, Oh, bonjour mademoiselle!-ed by homeless men and desperate waiters looking to fill tables in the Latin Quarter or nearly getting sliced in the eye by a passerby's umbrella, I need to remember that no one is trying to inconvenience me on purpose; it's just a side effect of survival in Paris. There are far too many people in this town to be overly considerate to any specific person. This city has had a long history before me, and will have a long history after me; my time here is less than a blink on its timeline. I just need to shut up, accept the culture and probably eat my damn bread in private.

Rachel

P.S. Check out my two-week video at https://vimeo.com/74541100. Not a lot happens, but I don't know, maybe you're into that.

I Know Places

"How I wish my friends could be with me for a moment to enjoy the view which lies before me."

          -Goethe, 12 September 1786

------------------

    "I'm going to push you to have more confidence in knowing what you want," my advisor said to me this week during our meeting. He's right. I probably should, in a lot of areas. What he was getting at is that I need to figure out what I want to work on for my directed study this semester and ultimately, my thesis. It's hard for me to grasp that I'm at the academic level of having to do a thesis or that I could even be capable of it. I have the mindset of the underdog and to be really successful at this, I'll need to drop that. My school has a lot of Ivy League-ers and once again, I've been thrown down among the youngest and least accomplished. I have a lot to prove, but I still don't know what I want, in my program or in my life.

     Orientation week is now over and I'm looking forward to classes starting tomorrow. I'm taking five classes: Communications and the Global Public Sphere, What is Cultural Translation?, Translation Workshop, Historical Systems of Cultural Translation and a directed study. I'm also going to try and audit a French course, if possible since it's free for grad students. I felt like it'd be weird to be in Paris and not be taking a French course. I've been continuously enrolled in French courses since I was fifteen. I think it'd be good for me, since my classes are all in English and everyone at school speaks English. I'm actually surprised to find I'm a rare breed in that I speak French pretty well. I can't imagine coming here to live and not knowing a lick of French, but there are plenty of people in that boat. They'll learn.

      On Friday, the cultural translation (CT) program had an eight-hour meeting to introduce ourselves and for the faculty to introduce themselves. I tried with every speck of energy in me to not fall asleep. I haven't had coffee yet in Paris and oh boy, do I need it. To top it off, we sat in a circle, so I'm sure all my new, impressive and distinguished professors thought I was narcoleptic or hungover.

My campus

      That night, we had a cocktail hour and Bateaux-Mouches night for the graduates, which was awesome considering we got free dinner, wine and a ride on the Seine (Not technically free, since our orientation fee was five hundred euros). For the rest of the weekend, when I wasn't attending optional orientation activities or trying to clean my slightly dirty apartment (I opened the fridge today and almost gagged. The American dollar doesn't take you far in terms of getting a spacious, clean place to live, let me tell you.), I've been reacquainting myself with my favorite Paris haunts. Yesterday, I spent my day on the Ile Saint-Louis and in the Latin Quarter, eating Berthillon sorbet, browsing the bouquinistes and sitting in the sun with my eyes closed in parks. This week has been so hard, so it was nice to walk around by myself and not have report to anyone or have any sense of time. I don't yet have a phone and I didn't bring a map, either. That is freedom if I've ever known it.

Bateaux-Mouches- it wasn't freezing like last time in January 2012!

In the park behind Notre-Dame, creeping on children and enjoying the sunshine

Berthillon sorbet. I dare you to find better sorbet/ice cream.

     I joined a few other grad students on a tour of the Latin Quarter and we passed so many memories, particularly the steps at St-Etienne-du-Mont, which were featured in Midnight in Paris and where I last spent time with my favorite Paris friends. If you're reading this, I miss you and think of you guys all the time. Come back to me!

     If I had to say one really great thing about my new school, it's how diverse its population is. I made a friend who's from Athens and her and I had a great dinner and conversation outside on the rue de Buci on Saturday night. These are the kinds of people I probably would never encounter at home and what an awesome experience it is to have.

Dinner on the rue de Buci

    Today, I put on my photographer cap and ventured into the Jardin du Luxembourg to take photos. Just as I was settled against a tree, basking in the sun, listening to a jazz band play in one of the pavilions, and thinking, This truly is the most beautiful city on Earth, a bird took a shit on my pants. That's Paris for you. You can never be too content for too long, or it shits on you.

I forgot that I'm a GIANT in France and always need to bend down for mirrors

Jardin du Luxembourg

Jardin du Luxembourg

Jardin du Luxembourg

Bird merde right on my new pants

My street

St-Sulpice, my favorite church in Paris

The Highlander. I need to recruit new team members for pub quiz night.

Jared & Taylor's lock

Enjoying the sunset from home

   
     I walked to the Institut Catholique de Paris and The Highlander, two of my past hangouts and then on to the Pont des Arts to affix Taylor and Jared's lock that I gave them at their wedding in prime real estate on the bridge, which has gotten so much fuller since the last time I saw it. I then spoiled myself with speculoos gelato from Amorino on rue de la Huchette. In Shakespeare & Co., I found the screenplay for Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, the latter of which starts in the bookshop. I got into the Before series this summer and I'm completely hooked. The other day, a few people were telling me I remind them of Julie Delpy and that they'll need to find me a Jesse in Paris. I thought that was funny and cute to say. But I hope I'm not that neurotic.

Extremely excited about this.

     Anyway, the Eiffel Tower is sparkling for four more minutes, so I think I'll go and enjoy that on my balcony before I have to be professional and go to sleep at a reasonable time. Bonne nuit, mes chéries.

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!