From sea to shining sea.

It's been awhile since I explained one of my more extensive walking adventures, so I'll start from the beginning.

I confused the day that my friend Erin and her family would be arriving, so yesterday I went to their hotel on the Rue de Courcelles. After the concierge informed me that they wouldn't be checking in until the 29th, I decided to go adventuring.

Started at the Park Monceau which is very close by. Sat there for a bit, then went walking. Headed southwest on the Avenue Hoche until I got to the Arc de Triomphe. Along the way, I saw this. Had to take a picture, it was too good.

Then, because it was a nice day (really sunny, and probably in the 50s), I decided I would only take streets that were sunny. Counter to your skepticism, this did not mean I had to go east or west, because unlike New York, for example, there's no grid, there's chaos and angles and alleys everywhere. I ended up taking the Avenue Marceau, but then promptly cut over to Avenue Iéna because it was empty and looked less tourist-filled. Pretty much going due south, and it was sunny and deserted ... a rarity on both counts, in my opinion, for any part of Paris.

Stumbled upon this statue of George Washington and Lafayette. No doubt they were discussing important things like liberty and brotherhood and revolution and "Dude, you can't IMAGINE what I did last night..."

I realized that the small square I was in was ...

The little park in the middle of the square was dedicated to Thomas Jefferson. Go figure.

I finished out the Avenue Iéna onto the Avenue des Nations-Unies. This brought me around the base of Trocadero, and I ended up alongside the Seine.

Know what the road the runs alongside the Seine right there is called? But of course, how on Earth could I be surprised.

Then I realized, in a somewhat ironic twist of fate, given that I had set out on a mission to explore Paris, that my life is rather like a scavenger hunt where no one bothers to give you the list of items to find, and you stumble upon them with an overwhelming sense that if there were a list, these are the sorts of things that would be on it.

I decided that I needed to get across the river, and since I could tell that my arrival at the Bir Hakeim bridge meant I was already way too far west for my house, I figured this would be a good time to get across and start wandering homeward. It was a great time of day for scenic shots, so I stopped to snap one in the middle, and noticed something, off in the distance on the left-center.

I knew that Paris had the miniature version of the Statue of Liberty, but I'd never really bothered to go looking for it (after all, I got a perfect view of the big one from the Staten Island Ferry when I was in New York getting my visa and visiting). I decided that I may as well finish walking over there, given that I was already mostly there.

Halfway across the Pont Bir Hakeim bridge you can veer off onto something called the "Allée des Cygnes," which takes you the length of the "Ile aux Cygnes." It's cool because you're on a narrow strip of island in the middle of the Seine (it widens a decent amount at this place). I think it's man-made to give more docking space and such.

Passed the nerve center of Radio France. Given my love of their podcasts, I wanted to document the discovery.

In keeping with my American/New York theme, I even found the ugly skyscrapery part of Paris.

View along the Allée des Cygnes ... notice anything at the end of the path?

Just in time for the start of the sun setting into pretty colors ...

Unfortunately this is from the back, but whatever, it wouldn't have looked as cool from the other side anyway.

There you have my afternoon. I'm certainly profiting from my week off :) My soundtrack for all of this walking, incidentally, was a CD collection called "We'll Meet Again" of songs from the 1940s. Seemed relevant, and there's one called "The Last Time I saw Paris" that I especially like.

To get home, I took the Pont de Grenelle to the Rue Linois, and from there hopped on the 10 at Charles Michels back to Mabillon to go grocery shopping. For the record, I didn't pull out a map the entire afternoon, until I got to the Rue de Linois and needed to find a train home.

Fate is sneaky like that.

Joyeuse Fêtes!

As I may have already told you, I was lucky enough to be invited to spend Christmas with the family I'm renting my apartment from at their house in Tours, France. It was really fun to finally meet their son, Benoît, with whom I've spoken pretty extensively online (Julien is his best friend).

I took the TGV there on Christmas Eve morning. I think that in France, Christmas Eve is the bigger deal as a general rule. Once the kids are older, even the present opening happens around midnight after the meal is finished. Because theirs is a big family (there are six kids - Vincent, Olivier, Benoît, Virginie, Julie and Pierre), present opening is way more intense than my family!

In a stroke of *brilliance,* I somehow managed not to take any pictures of Benoît ... possibly because he took my camera and took all of the pictures for me. Hopefully I'll be able to get all of the pictures from his sister's camera later on, and then my collection will be more complete!

Benoît decided I should pose with the dining room table ... Really, you should thank him, because I would have felt way to silly to take all of these pictures :) Usually Meg and Gennie are the holiday paparazzi!

Boyfriend?Fiance?Husband? of Virginie, Guillaume, Pierre on right

Julie

Me, Mrs. Bergerault, and Virginie

Mr. Bergerault

Grandma!

The Christmas tree and presents (if you look closely, there's a little manger scene in the lower left... my favorite part was the disco ball hanging on the front hahaha).

Artsy champagne shot ...

I snapped a picture of the train station on my way out of town on Sunday. Benoît gave me a brief history of Tours when I first got there, and explained how briefly during WWII Tours became the seat of government, which is why the city was tremendously hard hit during the war. Consequently, much of it has been redone and doesn't have the same old-school feel. The train station you see here is one of the few old buildings that remains intact. The architect is Laloux, and he also designed the original Gare D'Orsay, which has since been adapted into the museum.

I was so lucky to spend Christmas with everyone in Tours, and it was a lot of fun to be caught up in the bustle of a family for the first time in quite a while :) Naturally I missed all of you though, and I hope everyone had a WONDERFUL Christmas!

The Anglophone's Burden

Ok, listen. I know that translation is an art, and that translating word for word is often a mistake, HOWEVER, I would like to suggest that this was an instance in which concise language FAILED.

Foie gras, for those of you that haven't had it, is delicious ... and it certainly isn't a whole duck. No, not only is it not a whole duck, I am fairly confident that the foie gras itself is not served hot. The French signage suggests that this stand is selling foie gras on hot toast.

Apparently someone didn't realize that the word 'toast' is an anglicism, and thus needs no further translation, and that 'foie gras' is a term generally accepted into the English language as well.

... Although the looks on the faces of any anglophones that encountered that sign probably made the crappy translation well worth the loss of potential revenue ...

Incidentally, this was at the famed Christmas market at the Champs Elysées.

FIGHT NIGHT!

Add this to the list of things I want to see: In a throwdown between Parisians and New Yorkers, who would win out?

I guess it would be important to analyze the events that would be held. For all-weather endurance, New Yorkers would clearly triumph over Parisians (the one-inch snowstorm and ensuing panic, not to mention the wimpy Celsius system, make that a no-brainer). On the other hand, in terms of general condescension and hatred of happiness, I'm confident that Parisians would triumph. For most horribly offensive pronunciation of basic words, I think the New York metro accent is much more horrifying than the Paris regional accent.

For general doucheyness, however, it's tough to call. Between the soi-disant "greatest city in the world" and everything that Parisians typify, I'm at a loss. Perhaps they'd wipe each other out in a spectacular draw.

I think this came up in my internal streaming dialogue when I saw the French version of "Lon Guyland" in the métro with me. Except she had to be at least in her forties. Anyway, enormous Louis Vuitton handbag, leggings, puffy boots, long white puffy jacket and two inches of make-up plastered on. She was definitely French though.

"The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same." Never seemed so ... real.

Le Concert

Today, Sarah and I went to see a movie that's out here called "Le Concert," about a former conductor in Russia. The whole thing centers around Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D, which, as you may know, is one of my all-time favorite pieces.

At any rate I don't want to ruin it, but it was really good, and of course I was happy to hear the concerto over and over again. So after Sarah and I hung out for a bit, I came home and did some practicing. At the very least it provided some new inspiration. I borrowed the music for this concerto from my friend Arthur a month or so ago, and promptly gave up because it's IMPOSSIBLY difficult.

Newfound determination to get through it (I didn't say to play it WELL, just to get through it. Parts of it?). Oh, and I should learn how to play the Waves in the Vaughan Williams. No shortage of tricky music to get through!

Also, I'm like 99 percent sure that a woman from my orchestra was one of the cellists in the movie's orchestra. Awesome!

In other random news, I'm taking note of the various idioms and expressions in French that reference a baguette. The conductor's baton is the "baguette du chef," and a magic wand is a "baguette magique."

I won't even wish for snow (LIE)...

YESTERDAY IT SNOWED FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! No joke, I was as giddy as someone that has never seen snow in their life. I'm usually pretty excited for the first snow, but I think this year was even MORE exciting because I was afraid there would never be any.

I hadn't even realized it was snowing until I was standing at the inside door, and the mailman was coming in from the outside and I saw it behind him! Had to resist the urge to dance around and cackle maniacally. It has been colder the last few days (meaning I think it has been in the mid-20s to upper-20s, so not even that bad), and everyone looks miserable. Not to enjoy others' misery or anything, but back in MY day, we didn't get snowdays until the windchill dropped us below -30°F, so it's hard to get worked up about 0°C. Suckers.

It's not cold until your snot freezes.

View from M° Trocadero, on my way to babysit yesterday.

The métro looks so festive with a touch of snow! Speaking of the métros, "en raison de divers incidents, la ligne 2 est perturbée," or because of LIFE in general, THE PUBLIC TRANSIT NO LONGER WORKS. Apparently there were strikes on some métro lines (in addition to the usual RER A and B strikes which make everything more crowded), suicides, power outages, and who knows what else. Oh right, and snow makes France incompetent. I guess, coming from snow country, I have a hard time understanding that those who aren't used to getting dumped on regularly have a more difficult time. It's like getting a dusting in Florida. Cars off the road, traffic out of control, mass chaos, cranky people. Meanwhile I'm dancing around eating the snowflakes as they fall like I'm in the Nutcracker.

To each his/her own.

Finally, that same florist's shop with the weird colorful trees (ps, they expanded their collection- last time they had purple and radioactive vomit green and a few others). Got a nice shot of some normal trees covered in snow, and it was almost like being back in New York :)

Threw my first snowball of the year at the door behind which my friend Nicolas was standing during orchestra. Worth it. May or may not instigate massive snowball fight at school Friday... Because I'm the responsible adult!

As Time Goes By

Yes, I know, I have been incredibly deliquent the last few weeks BUT I CAN EXPLAIN! Last week my internet was down (for all intents and purposes useless), and this week, being the last week before break, has been ridiculously busy.

So let me pick up the epic saga where I left off.

Last Friday, Nadia (another assistant), and I went exploring in Aubervilliers. Stopped in at the 1€50 store, wandered a bit more, and went into the Asian market next to two of my schools that has always sort of intrigued me.

THE FISH ARE ALIVE!!! Well, were. I mean, not that it's THAT weird, but they did look pretty exotic. Syracuse is, well, landlocked, so what do I know? Hahahaha.

Get an eyeful of the bottom center, and please someone tell me what those are. This picture doesn't do their strangeness justice -- they're huge, strangely lumpy, and somewhat spiky. I can't even begin to GUESS what they're called, but I'm confident I haven't seen them before.

This weekend I was also DELIGHTED to finish my grad school applications. Since my internet had crapped out, I called Anna up and invaded her apartment. I happened to notice that someone's flask of vodka was next to the computer, along with my GRE scores and files, lending this a sort of post-modern still life feel. Cracked me up. Then again, I think I was delirious from my cold at that point.

I might add that my GRE scores were mailed 'direct,' because apparently the most direct route from the center in Paris is to mail them from AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND, to PARIS, FRANCE and then put a return address on them of PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY, USA. Seriously? No WONDER it took so long, someone flunked geography!

Sunday Anna and I had storytelling time over delicious hot chocolates in a café with pretty Christmas decorations. Then we wandered down to the Bon Marché to look at the pretty windows and marvel at the insanity that is the Grand Epicerie. In addition to a million other things, we were intrigued by the existence of "Bling" water. Yes, water. Move over, Evian.

Sunday night we had a soirée raclette at Raphaële's house. If you don't know what raclette means, google it right this second. It's a delicious wintery tradition, and it leaves you comatose. I got to see an old friend from orchestra, Anne-Gabrielle for the first time in ages, so that was extra excellent!

Monday and Tuesday morning however, I woke up, LATE, with my phone in my hand and completely disoriented. Monday I missed my first class, so instead I'm doing it tomorrow, Friday (the kids were so upset that I wasn't there I had to talk to their teacher and make it up to them)!!! Tuesday I was on time, but I was also probably slightly discomposed. I spent all day in Aubervilliers, and that night was the school Christmas party for the teachers. It was a lot of fun, and since I'm the youngest, I had to crawl under the table and assign gifts to everyone (everyone brings a gift and puts in on the table, then someone goes under the table while another person picks each gift up - the person under the table says who the gift is for).

Wednesday night was movie night with Betsey. She made squash soup, but because we are BRILLIANT, we covered it up and wandered off with our bottle of wine to watch Love Actually (which I had never seen). Of course, it didn't simmer so much as explode all over her burner, so we paused the movie and had a quick recovery plan. In spite of any doubts this might cast on our competence, it was delicious! In spite of myself, I really liked Love Actually, it's a cute Christmas movie. But as far as Christmas-themed movies go, nothing beats the Diehard movies, or Santa's Slay ;)

I need to rein/reign/rain in my thoughts.

As you might expect, the harder I try not to crack a smile or giggle to myself in public the more impossible it becomes. This morning on my way out to work, I was thinking about a few things ... like what Saint Denis might possibly be the patron saint of. Ghettos? IS there a patron saint of the ghetto? Just wondering.

Then I started thinking about stereotypes in the US of different regions, or even what I know of the different boroughs in NYC. I think Marseille might be the Staten Island of France. Still working out my justification, right now it's more of an intuitive understanding.

Then I kept having this weird desire during my classes to explain the difference in pronunciation between Mai, in French, and May, in English, using phonetic symbols. I just remember learning about the ij sound or whatever with Coates I think, and I desperately wanted to share this tidbit of wisdom with someone ... but somehow a bunch of 8-year-olds didn't seem like the right crowd.

Best moment of the day, however, was when I was having my first class of the day (CE2, 2nd grade) write out sentences for each month ... 'The first month is January. The second month is February, etc.' I got to December, stared at the board, and realized, for one of the RARE times in my life as a spelling nazi, that I couldn't remember how to spell 'twelfth' to save my LIFE. I swear, my mind went totally blank. I started laughing, and had to whip out my mini French to English dictionary to check it, so as not to teach a hundred or so children the incorrect spelling today.

Annnnnnnd there goes my competency in English.

Behold... THE SEAAAAAAAAAAA

We're playing Vaughan Williams' "A Sea Symphony" in orchestra, and it's really rather fun. It is SO epic. That link is just the first movement, and I recommend listening to all of them. I really like this piece, and once you get it under your fingers it's not as ungodly as it initially seems (the beauty of Vaughan Williams pieces, in my experience).

Don't get me wrong, it's still a beast. A BEAST. But it's doable!

Anyway, the important reason discovery that I needed to share this morning is that ...

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

If you brush your teeth and then eat a petit écolier cookie, it will taste like a thin mint.

That is all :)

L'école de conduite française.

So, as the title might suggest, there's something that has been nagging at me. A few days ago on the way to babysit, I noticed a driving school that has the same name as the title of this post.

I have since spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time pondering its meaning. I can't decide whether the adjective (French) is being accorded to the school (feminine noun) or the driving. Because it is at the end of the sentence, and normally adjectives follow the word they modify, I believe this translates as the School of French Driving. Meaning they teach you to drive like French people.

This interests me, because it is clear that there is a style to driving in France. I, personally, would call it suicidal, but to each his own. The reckless driving of motorcycles on sidewalks makes me want to go around laying strips of sharpened nails on the curbs, and yesterday a minivan almost drove into the side of the bus I was on (the side I was standing on, THANKYOUVERYMUCH).

It makes Mario Kart look downright civilized.

The 'best of' my teaching career (part I)

Just a taste of the daily dose of hilarity from school (and these are only the parts I can remember)! This is why I love kids.

1. " You're American? So you eat hamburgers all the time?" Yes. Only hamburgers. Instead of kitchens, Americans actually have pipes that run directly to the nearest MacDonalds.
2. " Did you come in a boat?" No, I would call it more of a raft. I was also accompanied by my best friend, a volleyball.
3. The time half a class started singing "I like to move it move it" to me and dancing (yes, the Jock Jams one). Then they asked what it meant. I almost died laughing, because I was picturing something halfway between a club and a sporting event, filled with a few hundred seven-year-olds.
4. The fact that I regularly inform my classes that I don't speak or understand French, in French, and no one casts a doubt on that logic.
5. Constant questions about the stars of the WWE? WWF? Whatever it is now, it's called Catch here, and I couldn't care less in ANY language. This leads to a subcategory, in which I am asked to define a wide variety of words pertaining to death, pain, and injury. Thank you, travesties of American culture.
6. While drawing a person to label the body parts, widespread crisis regarding whether they should draw a boy or a girl, culminating in "Well what's the word for penis?" Add that to the list of things I'm NOT teaching. Note: This is not the first time I've been asked.
7. Yelling in English, which induces a shocked and awe-filled silence. I wish that worked in the US, too. Unfortunately, as Pipe Dream illustrated, all my screaming still won't even get me out of a numeric seven in a headline.
8. Dancing around the teachers' room on my breaks to stay awake, because everyone is in class and thus can't see me. Every morning I have my own epic dance party to minimize the effects of four hours of sleep. Classy.
9. " Do you know of Barack Obama?" Yeah, you know, the same sounds familiar ... "Michael Jackson?" Ohhhh, you know, I don't really pay attention to basketball.
10. "These are your feet." "FRITES!" Best part? I don't think they know that we call frites French fries.

Don't worry, those snappy comebacks are the things that I WISH I could say, which has no correlation with what I actually did say :)

DUFUS!

For those of you that aren't familiar, Dufus is a band that I've known for quite some time - the lead singer/guitarist is the son of my high school orchestra conductor/extra grandpa, Hebes. Anyway, Seth told me this summer that they'd be doing a European tour; lo and behold, they arrived in Paris this past Monday!

It was a great show, and my friend Charlotte really liked it too :) It was really fun to catch up with Seth a bit - he's the first person from home I've seen since I got here!



After two nights of adventuring at night and getting up really early to teach, I really thought I was going to lose it by Tuesday night. I went to a dance class/soirée du rock thing at Cité U (first time I've been there since everyone lived there two years ago ... oh, Fondi!) with Charlotte and another friend. I didn't dance, because I was falling asleep standing up, and I'm sure I would have been even more useless than usual. Anyway, it was fun to see, and Monday night I might go back with them to learn salsa and who knows what else.

Adventures.

So the last few days have been something of a blur. Sunday afternoon I went to the COUPs chorale concert (Choeur et Orchestre des Universités de Paris). Musique en Sorbonne is a part of it (and that's my orchestra). They were great, and they sang Poulenc "Litanies à la vièrge noire" with an organ that made my blood run cold. I think the organ often has that effect on me. They also sang the Kodaly "Missa Brevis," which I rather liked.

After that, Gabrielle mentioned that she was heading to the Comédie Française to try and get last minute 5€ tickets for L'Avare (Molière). Charlotte and I decided to join the fun, and we were all really REALLY glad that we had. The actor playing Harpagon (Denis Podalydès) was superb, and the whole play was hilarious. Honestly, it's the Comédie Française. I'd be willing to bet most things they do are superb.