Oops.

Mystery solved; apparently my mom had told me NOT TO OPEN the Christmas present she had ordered me.

Fail.

My life is the stuff of bestsellers.

Wednesday's concert was Schubert, Rachmaninov and Strauss. I decided I really like Strauss during the Chevalier à la rose (no clue by what name we know that in English) suite for orchestra, when I got that feeling that only classical music gives me ; The one where the whole universe comes together for just a second.

But first, I should say that yesterday (Wednesday) it snowed like I've never seen it snow in Paris. Ever. It snowed giant flakes from 11am until 6pm. I didn't take it that seriously until we went out again at 3pm, since I presumed that it wouldn't stick. FALSE. This is near the kids' art class ... I MAY have instigated a snowball fight. We had a blast, but we were soaked ... My poor suede boots weren't made for this. Totally worth it, especially with the victory hot chocolate post-battle.

Had to snap a picture of the motorcycles. It made me laugh (I'd like to say on the inside, but I seem to remember a maniacal giggle finding voice just the same).

And finally, street view of Rue des Belles Feuilles as I left at 7pm. I didn't see a single shovel or plow until this morning, when the street cleaners that usually hose the sidewalks were out with small shovels and salt looking rather baffled by the turn of events. I guess a culture that can't handle picking up dog poop is probably not prepared to deal with snow. At any rate, this made for some impressive slush-ice (the WORST) on the sidewalks and in the streets.

A certain someone you know may POSSIBLY have slipped and fallen while attempting to Tweet (I've become one of them, God help us) and walk. Oops. Nothing hurt except my pride. On the other hand, given the quality of the roads and the fact that I didn't come to Paris outfitted for any real winter, I can HARDLY be held responsible. I have instituted a no-phone-while-walking rule though. At least until the sidewalks are more walkable.

Happened to walk by this during my waiting-for-the-laundry-to-finish stroll. Entrance clearly marked for Douches. I know a few, I'll send them along ...

(Public showers. Not nearly as fun as my alternate interpretation, I know.)

Cool gun-dragon-snake graffiti, near the douche entrance.

This morning I did a load of laundry, grocery-shopped (both of those for the first time in almost three weeks, OOPS) and even turned in all of my visa paperwork to the agency I'm paying to handle my Chinese stuff.

Cross your fingers.

As of now I have the afternoon wide open. I'd love to go wander the streets since it's sunny and nice out, but with the sidewalks being icy deathtraps, I probably won't. I'm not ready to meet such an inglorious end. For the time being I'll stay in with coffee and books, WHICH REMINDS ME: What mystery person has had 'The Crimes of Paris' mailed to me from Amazon.fr via a London-based bookstore?!

Baffled. Today has been thoroughly epic.

Laundry Day.

Laundromat, 10am, a Thursday in December.

Alone.

Enter man, gesturing frantically at safety pin and saying something (thick, unintelligible accent) about his pants and not letting anyone come in.

Realization: He's saying the zipper broke (and you pray he isn't asking for your help). Pants situation regulated, man asks where you're from. You tell him you're American. He instantly becomes overjoyed, gives you a big kiss on the cheek, and informs you that his ex-girlfriend is from Mexico. Lived here since 2007.

I swear, I couldn't make this stuff up if I dropped acid.

Let the games begin!

This past weekend my friend Charlotte came to Paris for a visit (she's in Strasbourg now), and she brought us real 'pain d'épices' or 'gingerbread,' as they translated it. It contained none of the ingredients I consider integral to gingerbread, but it was tasty. I killed the bag last night. Oops.

On Sunday, Charlotte and I went to Belleville for ravioli soup. Don't be put off by the name, it's the super Chinese part of town (although typically this isn't where you'd think of), and this was Chinese ravioli soup. Delicious, and CHEAP. Looks like I found my new substitute Chinese-American food ...

This random building had 1984 spraypainted on it ... Reminds me of that mailbox near Chez Prune last year. Another conspiracy?! If so, it's not very subtle.

EMMA WRIGHT, THIS IS DESTINY. They had a giant advertisement in the window for Bubble tea, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Then Charlotte and I stopped in some random store packed with oddities. The top says "Sacred bonds of marriage," and then "Together for life." I'm praying that this is meant ironically. Please, please, tell me this is intended as a gag gift. I wish the packaging made the "joke" more evident.

Resisted the temptation to buy this. For the time being anyway ... I can always go back.

Before meeting up with friends in an Irish pub for hot chocolates (I know, it blew my mind too), we did a run-through of H&M. Found this "creation" (their word, not mine, but I find it surprisingly accurate). Know what that pricetag says?

199€.

No, I did not accidentally type a second 9. You read it correctly. 199€, for a dress that looks like the one the fairies make in Sleeping Beauty, before they decide that they're too incompetent to do anything without magic. I would love to see the cashier ring someone up with one. How could ANYONE keep a straight face?

I went to two different concerts at the Salle Pleyel this week (Monday and Wednesday nights). Monday was the Tchaikovsky Symphony Orchestra, and I fell in love with a second violinist. Unfortunately I was in the third row, and I think he saw me staring at him. FORGOT THEY CAN SEE YOU IN THE THIRD ROW. Oh right, and he's Russian. SEE YA.

On the way home I peered down the Champs Elysées. Not sure why I went home this way, in a moment of disorientation I chose the incorrect 'fastest route home.' The blaze of light in the middle-ish is the giant ferris wheel at the other end (Concorde). The lights on the trees look really pretty.

Going negative.

Temperature, that is. In Celsius. Not as cold as Fahrenheit, but I've got to tell you, -2°C still feels pretty freaking cold.

Yesterday morning I was pleased to discover this on the street as I left ...

And went up to the COUPs (Choeur et Orchestre de l'Université de Paris) office at Porte de Clignancourt.

It was super slippery (something like skidding up and down that killer hill to Hillside in the winter, for those of you that can appreciate the analogy).

This looked pretty legit, but I assure you that it has probably all melted by now. Nevertheless, we've had flurries on and off all week, and it has been staying right around 0°C or lower. Today's high is -3 and the low is -6. I miss the nuance of Fahrenheit.

Last night I got to see the final dress rehearsal of La Fiancée Vendue, an opera by Smetana. At the the Opéra Garnier. Holy CRAP it is fancy. Loved it, even though I was exhausted.

November 30th: Bruch, Mendelssohn and Schumann

Our concert Tuesday night went fairly well ... Not our best work in my opinion, but it was a long and difficult program, so at some point you just have to be happy that you survived! We played Romance for Viola by Bruch, Ouverture and Incidental Music from Mendelssohn's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' (If you didn't know, one of the numbers is The Wedding March) and finally Ballade der Königssohn (not sure what that one is in English, something about the King's son).

I tried to be proactive about getting lots of pictures ... Semi-success, the bulk of them are on Facebook :)

My friend Sibylle is a violist, the second violins and the violas are pretty much partners in crime at this point ...

Somebody had a friend in the audience with a good camera, because guess who we can see QUITE clearly: Front row, all the way to the left. Oh hi.

Bigger shot, although it's during the Mendelssohn, and that's only the women's choir (and it's a bit cut off; you can't even see the basses).

Naturally the bulk of us relocated to L'Ecritoire as per tradition -- That's a café/bar in the Place de la Sorbonne just a little ways up the street. I caught pretty much the last trains to get home. Turns out that the downside to my new location is an inability to go home on foot whenever I so desire. Drat.

Molière was a funny guy

Last night Betsey hit the Petit Bureau line at the Comédie Française in order to get us last-minute, limited visibility tickets (for 5€, limit away!) to see L'avare. I may have already blogged about this, because I saw the exact same thing with friends last spring ... But you can never go wrong with a) Molière or b)La Comédie Française .

Just my BFF, Molière. No big deal. He's not nearly as bored as he's making himself out to be, he was just trying to outclass me for the picture (jealous because Molly is better than Molière).

Betsey and I were liberal with our picture taking -- I don't think I ever bothered to get any before, so it's a good thing we went for it :)

I should mention that it snowed (lightly, small flakes) all afternoon and into the evening, so metal surfaces had a nice little dusted look to them. I was loving it. Look at this car, I could practically be back in Manlius! Except evidently you guys are experiencing a monsoon. Flooding in NY, snow in Paris? Somebody missed the memo.

Apparently some of the snow even stuck to the street! It's pretty cold out, it's been in the 20s (aka low negatives in Celsius, everyone is frozen).