But why THREE lawyers?!

So my friend Molly came through Paris on Friday, and I picked her up from Gare du Nord and brought her back to my tiny closet. Test one for visitors. It was lots of fun to have her here -- we took French together at Binghamton (and did orchestra, and pit orchestra, etc), and now she's an assistant too (in Abbeville, near Amiens).

SHE BROUGHT ME REESES PEANUT BUTTER CUPS!!! A true Halloween :) She found them while she was in London with friends. I was ecstatic, as you might imagine.



We spent the afternoon wandering around near the Bourse (Sydney had found a market there, but after we checked that out, we wandered). On our way to Montorgeuil, which I have previously mentioned, we saw this store, and both Molly and I could only think of that LaFontaine poem that Coates made us recite.



This isn't the first time I've seen these sorts of political headquarters, but here's the Socialist hangout. I think it might also mark the dividing line between the first and second arrondissements, but that might just be the headquarters for the two, so I'm not positive. At any rate, imagine the reactions if we had these in the US! QUELLE HORREUR haha.



In the windows of one bakery, they had these adorable pigs. MMMMMM. What would PETA say?



Molly and Sydney, with their pig. Which they ate. THEY ATE A WHOLE PIG. Turns out they're filled with chocolate. Who knew?



So perhaps this is because I have so many friends in law school, but avocat can mean lawyer, or avocado. You can imagine my surprise when I realized that they were selling three whole lawyers for 3 euros! THREE WHOLE LAWYERS! I wish I could say that I hadn't thought of lawyer first, but that would be a lie.



The old market at Les Halles. They don't use it anymore (they built a huge underground mall here), but this is much prettier.



As promised [Dave], my new favorite store. I can imagine such a great "Who's on first?" routine with this. "Where'd you get your shirt?" - "Oh, at Pfft." -"Where?!" - "Pfft."

Cracks me up just thinking about it.



Molly's only request for her Paris visit was a falafel sandwich and baklava, which I knew we could find in the Latin quarter (she spent a semester in Morocco, so it makes more sense). Anyway, the restaurant had this posted on the door. Call me crazy, but Sodexho doesn't exactly reassure me.



Pictures from my Halloween adventure to follow!

Autumn Leaves

Needed to investigate a cheap lamp at the Conforama (think Bed Bath and Beyond) near Pont Neuf. On the way, the bouquinistes were opening up little by little as I walked along the Seine. I liked the way the yellow leaves looked with the green trees and boxes.



Mommy, I found Samaritaine. It's right at the end of Pont Neuf ... and definitely closed. Not sure what the story is there. I googled around a bit, and it looks like it's closed indefinitely due to structural instabilities and fire hazards. Apparently even Paris has a fire marshall. Looks like it has been closed for a few years, and doesn't look like it will be opening in the next few either. This is a historically famous department store in the heart of Paris, for those who haven't heard of it.



On my way back, I stayed on the right bank until the Pont du Carrousel, and saw that one of the bouquinistes (little bookseller/tchotchky sellers that operate out of those FM/Binghamton green boxes along the Seine) is sporting some classy old tags. Daddy, don't we have some of yours floating around the garage somewhere? These look to be of a similar vintage make.



Finally, some pretty fall foliage! It's about time. Note the Eiffel Tower off to the left. Love this picture. It's nice and sunny out, so I was thinking about reading outside along the Seine for a bit.

Part-time unemployment

Today, my friend Gabrielle (from orchestra) came over, and we played a ton of violin duets that she has. Everything from Bartok, to themes from Schindler's List and Amélie, to the Bach Double, to Danny Boy - but that's where I stopped her ... too tired!

I was in charge of concocting lunch (damn the French and their multiple courses!), and Gabrielle brought dessert, shown below. SHE MADE MINI APPLE PIES AND CARROT CAKE!!! Fall = partial redemption. Delicious, for the record.



That was pretty much the whole day, with the exception of my first foray into the land of hunting for a second job. It all seemed OK for this café, until the owner asked me when I wanted to work. When I started to explain how my availability varied from day to day, he flipped his lid. I would like to take this moment to point out that he ASKED when I wanted to work, thus implying a CHOICE. I think I was probably smiling in a bemused sort of way right around the part of the lecture that was something to the effect that "You couldn't do this in New York! What would happen if you just couldn't come when I called you and said I want you to be here now? We just wouldn't open?"

Right, so, he then explicitly stated that I should be available at any time so if he wanted me to come in, I could. What planet is this dude from? Everyone wants a native anglophone to work for them, and to have working papers already -- but you can't get working papers without having a job sponsor you. Vicious cycle. Lots of dumb people. SOS.

This is the job that I found on the board at the American Church. Let's review: American Church implies whom? Oh right, Americans. What won't Americans have, unless they've already received sponsorship from some sort of job? Working papers. What does that mean for availability? They will have other obligations -- like, the ones that went to the trouble to get them work visas.

Lucky for him, my sarcasm is limited in French.

That left me a bit cranky, so I stopped at the grocery store and bought the 750g jar of nutella. Whoops. My mood, however, improved drastically.

Therefore I am?

Today Anna and I had vowed to indulge our need for chocolat chaud. We started at the Café Mabillon, and it was delicious.

After that we began our wanderings, and ended up in what I can only imagine is the South Pole, if Santa moved there. I don't understand this tree, but it must be related to your standard Christmas tree.



I'm sorry, did I say the South Pole? I meant South Beach. PALM TREES?! Really? I seem to recall that Paris is further north than Syracuse ... I'm confused.



We wandered a bit beyond this park (and I can't seem to find a name for it anywhere), and stumbled upon the Bon Marché. We didn't go in the fancy department store part, but rather investigated the Grand Epicerie. That means real grocery store, in case you wondered; it's pretty much the French version of Wegmans (if slightly pricier). There was a cheese girl (KELLY!) and various meat and fish and bakery counters, and lots of aisles full of bizarre assortments of other things. Pretty cool.



On the way back to Rue de Grenelle, happened to notice this sign. It's one of those "I love my neighborhood, so I pick up my dog's poop instead of leaving it to fester on the sidewalks, even though picking up poop is very much not in line with my classy French tendancies"-esque signs ... Except someone has, shall we say, edited. Now the bottom reads "I poop [ahem, they were more vulgar, if you know what I mean], therefore I am." Beneath that, it seems like someone then added "Nothing." All together, "I poop, therefore I am -- nothing."

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, France is one enormous poop joke waiting to be told.



After lunch and some violin time, I decided I'd go investigate the job postings at the American Church. On the way there, I passed the "Congress," aka the Assemblée Nationale.



After I checked out the postings, I was pretty worn out, so I turned around to head home. Came around the corner, and saw this. Moments like this serve as reminders of where I am and what I'm doing, I think.



Walked past Invalides again ... I'll be playing my orchestra concert in that spire-topped cathedral in just a few weeks. *Choke*



Decided to stroll through the Latin Quarter on the way home, and caught sight of Saint Severin. I love how it looks all lit up. Just moments later I was to discover the home of the BEST baklava I have ever eaten. Little pastry shop right in the heart of ethnic food land. They have two other types (one that looked particularly liquidy, one with pistachio that I tried, and one with hazlenut, which I'm not sure about).



One of the little gift shops had a well-stocked selection of minibooze bottles, and Eiffel Tower shaped booze bottles.



Finally on my way home (via Rue Danton), happened to notice a Hallowen theme in this medical supply store's window. LOVED it. One of the few acknowledgements of Halloween in France, really. I miss Halloween at home!

Historical quest, of sorts.

Because of a certain someone (cough Dave cough), I read quite a bit of Hemingway this past summer. Or tried to at least. Of course my favorite was certainly The Moveable Feast, due, no doubt, to the subject matter (Hemingway recounts a bunch of memoirs from his time in Paris).

Prominently featured is a bookstore frequented by American expats of the interwar period, called "Shakespeare and Company." I've been meaning to hunt for it, but it rather slipped my mind until yesterday. It was located at 12 Rue de L'Odéon during the period in question, but has since relocated to the 5th arrondissement - so I went hunting for the old building, and for the new one.

Now, in spite of my investigation, a question remains. I know that in the copies of The Moveable Feast they include some black and white photos, one of which is in front of the bookstore, so you'll have to check for yourself. When I got to number 12, there was this part of the building, which to me looks the most promising and bookstore-like.



But there was also this plaque over the area immediately next door (although I must explain that I think both are part of number 12, so therein lies my uncertainty). It says that "In 1922, in this house, Sylvia Beach published Ulysses, by James Joyce."



Here's the zoomed out version. So if it isn't the blue thing in the first picture, perhaps they've just since redone the facade of the building, and I can't really expect something from the middle of last century to look the same ... oh wait, yes I can [in France].



Next I hunted down the new Shakespeare and Company. It's on Rue de la Bûcherie, a small street more or less at the end of Rue Saint Jacques (across from Notre Dâme; next to Le Petit Pont, as a matter of fact). It's what I would turn my bedroom into if anyone would let me -- just books, EVERYWHERE. Packed with them. Unfortunately, it was also packed with people, which made me want out, fast. Wish I could investigate it without all the other people! But I'm also not really planning to buy any books in English, since I can do that for far less cost when I get home. They specialize in English language books, happened upon an old-looking copy of The Beggar's Opera and T.S. Eliot in the poetry corner!



Proceeded to go wandering along Rue Réaumur in search of Auchan, which is evidently a huge grocery store. Couldn't find it, but instead discovered a neat street, and the overhead sign said something about "Montorgeuil." Didn't get to explore too much since I was meeting Giacinta shortly after I came across it, but I'll definitely have to go back. I don't think I've ever been there before.

I met Giacinta at St Eustache, the large church that's practically within the old Les Halles open market. It no longer is an open market, but rather houses an underground shopping mall that is HUGE. I forgot that with no school this week, going to the mall around 3pm means that you're in for a host of teeny boppers, no matter what language they're speaking. We were trying to get to the François Truffault Bibliothèque du Cinéma, but we forgot that Paris museums and such (anything run by the Mairie de Paris) are closed on Mondays, while national things (like the Louvre) are closed on Tuesdays. So we wandered instead.



I love the way things glow when the sun is shining on them but they're up against some ominous looking clouds in the background.



Could anybody explain what this is? It almost seems like a clock, or a sun dial, but the numerals seem all out of whack, and I don't see anything that could cast a shadow ... I don't really have any idea what it is. Perhaps it's for marking something else.

Why, yes, I will have some cheese with my w[h]ine.

Friday night was a blast, because two other assistants came over for wine and cheese and detox time. After surviving the last of our training sessions, and making it all the way to our first break (this coming week is off for Toussaint, or All Saints' Day), I think it was well-deserved.

After we'd chattered away at my place for a few hours, Julien invited us to join in a poker night he was having with his friends. We hung out with them until the wee hours, and it was a great night all around.

The next day I had orchestra in the morning, and spend the remainder of the afternoon avoiding laundry, before finally coming to grips with it and heading to a laundromat.

Having never gone to a laundromat in the US, I'm a bit unqualified to make a comparative study of the experience. The instructions are printed on the wall ... you pick empty machines, load them up, and head to the machine to pay. 4€ per load of 6kg. What was most annoying, in terms of cost, was that to dry things, it's 1€ per 10 minutes of dryer time.

Uh, what? No.

So I gave the important things like towels and jeans and pyjamas a ten minute spin in the dryer (I'll give them credit though, the dryers are pretty forceful) and came back to my apartment to hang my clothes from every available space in the apartment. It looked like my laundry threw up on my apartment, but hey, it worked.

I've begun to reflect, at great length, on costumes I would wear if I were home. I've set the bar pretty high in previous years, as Carmen Sandiego and then Sarah Palin, most recently. So far my ideas include:

1. Une francaise -- This would necessitate a striped shirt, a beret, and carrying around a baguette. Additionally, I would need a designer hangbag to carry my candy (Longchamp?) and I would consider taking up smoking for the evening.

2. The [traditional] American in Paris -- I would drape myself in an American flag and don Uggs, and carry a large city map. I would also speak in high volumes and mispronounce everything with a deliciously non-continental accent (PAR-lezze vouses le fr-anne-say?). Oh, and I'd be carrying a hamburger.

Neither of these has resonated in that critical way though, so alas, I'm still pondering the matter. Suggestions are welcome.

Oh, and ...

Happy one-month anniversary to me!!! I just realized it is a month to the day since I came crashing into the city of Paris (again)!

It reminds me of that line in TS Eliot's poem, "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock:"

For I have known them all already, known them all: --
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

However, in my particular case, one might consider substituting "baguettes" for "coffee spoons."

Also worth noting that the French Embassy liaison got back to me already, and I AM allowed to work, but I have to have permission from the principals of the schools where I work, it can't interfere with my teaching, and I can't make more than 30% of my current salary (which means not much, that's for sure). Better than nothing!

And as if to celebrate my one-month anniversary, today I discovered CHEAP PEANUT BUTTER! They have it in one of the many Middle Eastern food markets of Aubervilliers. WIN! It's made in Holland, which means if I ever go there, I will thank them profusely. Apparently all it takes to win my undying love is peanut butter.