This week was methodology class which is less helpful than I thought it would be, mostly because our teacher believes in learning by trial and error. So instead of showing us an example of the various assignments required at Sciences Po and then letting us practice them, she just tells us vaguely about them and has us try to figure it out for ourselves. They are very picky about what is included in each assignment, and even the things that are similar to stuff in America, have different requirements. For example, in a research paper in France, you don’t state your thesis in the introduction. You present the question you are trying to answer, like you would in America, but instead of then saying what answer you are going to prove, you instead just explain how you will examine the question. If you put a thesis statement the professor says you have already reached your conclusion so there is no point for them to read the rest of the paper. And they make you “define the terms” as the first step of basically any assignment. It’s a hard adjustment because you’ve been practicing writing papers the American way for the last ten years, and suddenly you have to change the whole way you go about it. Plus, I’ve always been very good when it comes to writing papers, and now I’m at the bottom of the curve. It’s a little disconcerting. I just hope the professors have a little compassion on the international students, although I’ve heard that usually isn’t the case.
Saturday my internet decided to go out for no apparent reason. Seriously, I had checked my mail and facebook and done a few other things online, I went and washed some dishes, and came back to look something up and...no wireless. The screen of the modem box had lines going around instead of the time, so I knew that meant it was trying to synchronize. It would look like it was fixed for a few minutes and then go out again. I tried rebooting like I had to do the first time. I tried it about 6 times, and no luck. I am so spoiled by having internet access 24/7 that when I have to go without it at home for a bit it seems like the end of the world. In America it would have been annoying and I wouldn’t have been pleased, but here everything is 8 times harder to fix than at home, so I was really not a happy camper. But it did give me a chance to do some stuff I haven’t taken much time for, like writing letters and reading.
I started reading Hemingway’s "A Moveable Feast". Ever since I first heard his quote about Paris many years ago I’ve wanted to read his account of the city, so I bought it before I left to come here. It’s my first Hemingway, and I have to say, so far I’m a fan. He has a very unique writing style and the book is an easy read. I think it’s good I didn’t have any expectations going in, because if you are expecting a story line, or a really cohesive grouping of stories, you’ll probably be disappointed. I’m not sure if I’d like it as much if I didn’t know Paris, but because I know many of the streets and places he mentions and much of the way he describes the city still holds true, I have really enjoyed it. I’ll reserve my final opinion of the book until I finish it.
I don’t feel like I’ve been in Paris at all today. I got up and went to church which is out in the suburbs and is peopled mostly with American expats and other internationals, so being out there you really don’t feel like you’re in Paris, or France for that matter. And then afterwards, Glenn wanted to go to lunch in Chinatown so he could take us to a restaurant there that he likes. It was providential because I had just been thinking during the service that I could really go for some Chinese food. We decided to take the RER (local train system) into the city instead of the bus and the metro because it’s faster. We just missed one train, and so were standing on the platform when they announced on the loud speaker that there was an “interruption of traffic on the line because of a serious incident involving a traveler.” This is a pretty common announcement on the metro, and I guess the RER lines too, and I had never really paid much attention to it. I just always assumed that people were stupid and got hurt or something. I was mentioning how often that happens on the metro, when Bethany explained to me that saying a “serious traveler incident” is their way of saying someone committed suicide without actually saying it. I remembered hearing that many people kill themselves by jumping in front of a metro car or train, but I had just never put two and two together. So that was a pretty disturbing revelation, especially because I’ve heard so many of those announcements. I would hate to be a metro driver because I would always be afraid that someone was going to jump out in front of my train. Anyway, so that was somewhat upsetting, and on the more selfish side, it meant that we ended up waiting for a really long time for a train to come, so it would have been faster to take the bus.
Chinatown in located in the 13th, which is basically on the total opposite side of Paris from where church is. So even once we got into the city it took us a long metro ride to get out there. When we were leaving the metro, Glenn joked “Once you go up those stairs, you will no longer be in Paris.” He really wasn’t kidding. It was like we had taken a bullet train to Asia. That is one area of Paris where I have no hope of blending in. All the signs are in French and Chinese, and I’m suddenly really really tall. I was kind of wishing I hadn’t worn heels. It helped that three of the people in our group were from Singapore and another is an American of Chinese heritage. Ordering at the restaurant was interesting because the waitress was speaking Chinese to those at our table who spoke it, and then she’d switch into French for us, but her French was so heavily accented that I almost couldn’t tell the difference. I ordered some spicy fried chicken and steamed rice which was really good, and pretty cheap. It had taken us so long to get there, and then it took a long time to eat, so it was four in the afternoon before we got done.
Afterwards some went home, but I went with a few others to Tang Freres (Tang Brothers), which is a big Asian supermarket around the corner. Compared to regular grocery stores the prices were pretty good, of course it’s all Asian food which I’m not sure I know enough about to know what to buy. I did get some canned leeche because when Meiwa brought it to Bible study it was really good. I also got some canned mango, sweet rice milk, and bananas. I definitely want to go back and look around more on a day when it is less busy because the place was a zoo, but it’s good to know that basically everything in Chinatown is open on Sundays. It was a pretty cool afternoon, and was certainly a change from the rest of Paris, but I was very grateful for my Asian companions who could explain stuff and make me not feel as much out of place.
It was, however, a long afternoon, and I was quite tired from carrying heavy canned goods all the way across Paris. I had to take 3 metros and then walk home uphill in heels. I need to plan better for all contingencies when I get dressed for church I guess. And when I got home, the internet had not begun to work again, so I read some more Hemingway and took a Sunday evening nap. After which I ran down to the ATM to start withdrawing to pay rent for next month, and stopped by the little market for some essentials, and then made myself a Nutella banana sandwich, which I highly recommend.
Hope you have a blessed day!
Lyndsey
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Course registration, in any language, is still stressful
(written Sept. 17th)
I’m sitting here in my arm chair, looking out of my window at the tip of the Eiffel Tower sticking up above the slanted rooftops. It is raining for the first time since I arrived. Not really raining raining, but dripping. It’s that sort of tentative, tapping drizzle that is so synonymous with winter in Paris. I kept hearing this weird tinking noise but couldn’t figure out what it was even though I was looking out the window, because that’s how small and sporadic the drops are. The somber evening sky seems to melt into the city because it is nearly the same color and the roofs. I had to turn on a light earlier than usual today because of the clouds. Like many Parisians (at least the ones that live around me), I basically just use natural light as long as I can during the day. They’re big fans of natural light here. I don’t know if it is because of the energy costs, or if it just seems more normal for a city that has existed for centuries without electricity. Whatever the reason, I fit in well, not because I’m trying to live like the French, but just because it’s an acquired family trait. At UF my roommates used to come home in the afternoons and ask me why I was sitting in the dark- lol. Fortunately I am blessed with great light up here in my little apartment.
Wow that was a really long digression about light, for which I apologize. And all that just to say that it is raining and I am looking out the window. ANYWAY... today was supposed to be the first day of my methodology course where they are supposed to teach us how to be French students and do schoolwork the French way. However, it was also the day for fall course registration online. So I don’t know why the geniuses at Sciences-Po didn’t say, “Hey, everyone is going to be registering for classes at 10am, why don’t we cancel orientation classes?” But they didn’t, so technically I had to skip class this morning to stay home and register for the fall which is slightly more important. I was nervous about class registration just because it’s challenging enough at home with everything in english and a familiar system that I know how to work and what I need to sign up for. Sciences-Po is notorious for having websites that are less-than-user-friendly, so I was a bit worried about figuring it out. And that meeting we had last week wasn’t very encouraging either. So I got up early and had my list all laid out of my first choice classes and all the back-up choices and was ready to login at 10 on the dot.
I got logged on and entered the registration area and found and enrolled in my first choice class. It’s an elective class in french that meets 2 hours a week and is about the role of NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations) in International Relations. Then I went to enroll in my big lecture class in french. For a main lecture you have to enroll for the lecture class and a discussion section at the same time. So I select the lecture and pick the section I want and click enroll and it comes up with an error message. Next to the lecture class is says I can’t register for it until I pick a discussion section, and next to the discussion section it says I can’t register for it until I pick a lecture class. Huh?! I already did that. IT’S ON THE SAME SCREEN! So I don’t know why it’s being dumb, so I try again... same message. I try again...same message. Now I realize that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But since I figured it had to be a computer problem I was hoping it would magically begin to work. I decided I should waste any more time until I had the rest of the classes I needed, so I went and signed up for my one class in English that is about contemporary French Foreign policy (I’ll save the white flag jokes for another day). And then enrolled in my back-up french lecture class since I couldn’t get the other one to work, after which I tried one final time and...it finally let me enroll in my French lecture on the Middle East. I was relieved to have gotten all three classes that I wanted, and went to sign up for my French language class when I realized that they had me listed for the wrong French level. I didn’t know what to do at first, but I remembered the words of the guy at our meeting last week “No matter what happens, register for a class, and then we can try to fix it later, but there’s not a lot we can do if you don’t sign up for something.” So I registered for a level 2 class which meets twice a week, and then sent an email to the language department about the error because that’s what the FAQs on the website said to do. I assumed they wouldn’t get to it until the next day or two and then they’d fix it after the fact.
An hour or so later I went back on to double check my schedule and I had an email from the language department saying- the problem has been fixed, you are free to enroll now. Well that’s all well and good, except that registration had been open for 3 hours and all the reasonable sections of the classes were already filled. The only level 3 French class was Friday afternoons. I had been so excited to have Friday’s off so that I could use the long weekend to travel, so I was pretty dang annoyed that because of their error my schedule was all messed up. But after much ranting, and some reflection, I decided that I would rather have a class that wasn’t a struggle for me, and have my Friday’s off, than to take the level 3 class on Fridays. Since I am taking other classes in French, it’s not like I won’t be improving my language abilities. So that’s where I left it. I’m sure it’ll all work out fine.
Take care!
Lyndsey
I’m sitting here in my arm chair, looking out of my window at the tip of the Eiffel Tower sticking up above the slanted rooftops. It is raining for the first time since I arrived. Not really raining raining, but dripping. It’s that sort of tentative, tapping drizzle that is so synonymous with winter in Paris. I kept hearing this weird tinking noise but couldn’t figure out what it was even though I was looking out the window, because that’s how small and sporadic the drops are. The somber evening sky seems to melt into the city because it is nearly the same color and the roofs. I had to turn on a light earlier than usual today because of the clouds. Like many Parisians (at least the ones that live around me), I basically just use natural light as long as I can during the day. They’re big fans of natural light here. I don’t know if it is because of the energy costs, or if it just seems more normal for a city that has existed for centuries without electricity. Whatever the reason, I fit in well, not because I’m trying to live like the French, but just because it’s an acquired family trait. At UF my roommates used to come home in the afternoons and ask me why I was sitting in the dark- lol. Fortunately I am blessed with great light up here in my little apartment.
Wow that was a really long digression about light, for which I apologize. And all that just to say that it is raining and I am looking out the window. ANYWAY... today was supposed to be the first day of my methodology course where they are supposed to teach us how to be French students and do schoolwork the French way. However, it was also the day for fall course registration online. So I don’t know why the geniuses at Sciences-Po didn’t say, “Hey, everyone is going to be registering for classes at 10am, why don’t we cancel orientation classes?” But they didn’t, so technically I had to skip class this morning to stay home and register for the fall which is slightly more important. I was nervous about class registration just because it’s challenging enough at home with everything in english and a familiar system that I know how to work and what I need to sign up for. Sciences-Po is notorious for having websites that are less-than-user-friendly, so I was a bit worried about figuring it out. And that meeting we had last week wasn’t very encouraging either. So I got up early and had my list all laid out of my first choice classes and all the back-up choices and was ready to login at 10 on the dot.
I got logged on and entered the registration area and found and enrolled in my first choice class. It’s an elective class in french that meets 2 hours a week and is about the role of NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations) in International Relations. Then I went to enroll in my big lecture class in french. For a main lecture you have to enroll for the lecture class and a discussion section at the same time. So I select the lecture and pick the section I want and click enroll and it comes up with an error message. Next to the lecture class is says I can’t register for it until I pick a discussion section, and next to the discussion section it says I can’t register for it until I pick a lecture class. Huh?! I already did that. IT’S ON THE SAME SCREEN! So I don’t know why it’s being dumb, so I try again... same message. I try again...same message. Now I realize that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But since I figured it had to be a computer problem I was hoping it would magically begin to work. I decided I should waste any more time until I had the rest of the classes I needed, so I went and signed up for my one class in English that is about contemporary French Foreign policy (I’ll save the white flag jokes for another day). And then enrolled in my back-up french lecture class since I couldn’t get the other one to work, after which I tried one final time and...it finally let me enroll in my French lecture on the Middle East. I was relieved to have gotten all three classes that I wanted, and went to sign up for my French language class when I realized that they had me listed for the wrong French level. I didn’t know what to do at first, but I remembered the words of the guy at our meeting last week “No matter what happens, register for a class, and then we can try to fix it later, but there’s not a lot we can do if you don’t sign up for something.” So I registered for a level 2 class which meets twice a week, and then sent an email to the language department about the error because that’s what the FAQs on the website said to do. I assumed they wouldn’t get to it until the next day or two and then they’d fix it after the fact.
An hour or so later I went back on to double check my schedule and I had an email from the language department saying- the problem has been fixed, you are free to enroll now. Well that’s all well and good, except that registration had been open for 3 hours and all the reasonable sections of the classes were already filled. The only level 3 French class was Friday afternoons. I had been so excited to have Friday’s off so that I could use the long weekend to travel, so I was pretty dang annoyed that because of their error my schedule was all messed up. But after much ranting, and some reflection, I decided that I would rather have a class that wasn’t a struggle for me, and have my Friday’s off, than to take the level 3 class on Fridays. Since I am taking other classes in French, it’s not like I won’t be improving my language abilities. So that’s where I left it. I’m sure it’ll all work out fine.
Take care!
Lyndsey
A 26 Year-Old Polish Woman
Sunday morning I woke up and got dressed and put on my trench coat, but when I got outside it was like the middle of summer. It was clear and warm and by the time I got to the bus (I had to walk really fast because I was running late and didn’t want to miss the 10:50) I was really wishing I hadn’t chosen this particular day to wear my sweater vest. I made the bus with 3 minutes to spare, panting, and ran into my friend Glenn from Singapore who is really involved in the young adults group. We had a nice chat on the way to church in which I learned some interesting things. According to Glenn, I look like a 26 year old Polish girl. Well actually he added that I could probably also pass for German or Italian or something else European but that he never would have guessed that I was American, or that I’m 21. I guess that explains why, when I was talking to the desk clerk at my hotel that first day, I made some comment and he said “You’re Italian right?” I don’t know how you can really look “American”, but evidently it’s possible, and I don’t. I didn’t realize I looked that old, but I asked some Americans later and they agreed, so there ya go. Anyway, Glenn and I also discussed how Asians look so much younger in comparison to westerners, so people always think Glenn is much younger than he is, but Asians can always guess his age.
At church it was their annual ministry fair. Emmanuel isn’t very large, I’m not sure what average attendance is but I would estimate 125-150 split between two services, plus a smaller French congregation of about 30-40. But for a church of its size, it has a ton of ministries and does a lot of outreach. I officially signed up to go on the church retreat the first weekend in October, and to help take care of the kids so I can go for free. Ruth, who helps with the young adults ministry, came over to ask me how well I speak French. It hadn’t occurred to me, but since both the English and French congregations are coming, we’ll possibly have both English and French speaking kids. I think my French is good enough to manage, although it is hard enough to understand little kids when they are speaking your native language, so I can’t make any promises when it comes to understanding little French kids. But I’ve learned that kids are kids no matter what language they speak, so I don’t think it should be too hard.
After church a bunch of the young adults decided to go grab lunch. Some didn’t want to go all the way into the city, so we walked down the street to a little Italian restaurant. There ended up being a pretty large group of us and it was a lot of fun. I just had plain cheese pizza because it was safest. The French put some realllly bizarre things on pizza. Case in point: Bethany, an American who has spent a lot of time in Paris, and is now here for a few months working for an IT company, decided to order the house specialty pizza. The menu said it was pizza with ground beef and fries. When I read the description I asked if she thought that meant the fries came on the pizza or on the side. We decided it must mean on the side because who in their right mind would put french fries on a pizza? The French, that’s who. They brought out her pizza with a pile of french fries in the middle of it. It was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen. I didn’t want to seem like a tourist, but I had to take a picture of it. Go see for yourself. And then order some Dominos and be glad you live in America where people don’t put goat cheese and fried eggs on pizza.
a bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
At church it was their annual ministry fair. Emmanuel isn’t very large, I’m not sure what average attendance is but I would estimate 125-150 split between two services, plus a smaller French congregation of about 30-40. But for a church of its size, it has a ton of ministries and does a lot of outreach. I officially signed up to go on the church retreat the first weekend in October, and to help take care of the kids so I can go for free. Ruth, who helps with the young adults ministry, came over to ask me how well I speak French. It hadn’t occurred to me, but since both the English and French congregations are coming, we’ll possibly have both English and French speaking kids. I think my French is good enough to manage, although it is hard enough to understand little kids when they are speaking your native language, so I can’t make any promises when it comes to understanding little French kids. But I’ve learned that kids are kids no matter what language they speak, so I don’t think it should be too hard.
After church a bunch of the young adults decided to go grab lunch. Some didn’t want to go all the way into the city, so we walked down the street to a little Italian restaurant. There ended up being a pretty large group of us and it was a lot of fun. I just had plain cheese pizza because it was safest. The French put some realllly bizarre things on pizza. Case in point: Bethany, an American who has spent a lot of time in Paris, and is now here for a few months working for an IT company, decided to order the house specialty pizza. The menu said it was pizza with ground beef and fries. When I read the description I asked if she thought that meant the fries came on the pizza or on the side. We decided it must mean on the side because who in their right mind would put french fries on a pizza? The French, that’s who. They brought out her pizza with a pile of french fries in the middle of it. It was one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen. I didn’t want to seem like a tourist, but I had to take a picture of it. Go see for yourself. And then order some Dominos and be glad you live in America where people don’t put goat cheese and fried eggs on pizza.
a bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
We're off to see the Wizard...
I had been putting off going to get my Sciences-Po student card for a week because I heard it was a pain. But Wednesday I finally gave in and decided to get it done with. They’re never real clear about exactly what forms you need, so I was a bit worried that I would have waited in line and then be missing something. That’s the other thing, the office is only open certain hours and they have hundreds of students trying to get their student cards. I went early before the office opened and I still ended up waiting almost an hour and a half. And what’s more, I was forced to sign up and pay for French social security even though I had proof of international health insurance. Evidently if you’re not from another EU country, you are legally obligated to be enrolled in French social security if you are directly enrolled in a French university. Stupid socialist government. Now I have like triple insurance coverage so I guess I don’t need to worry about getting sick or being hit by an insane taxi driver. So after waiting in line for forever, paying a bunch of money for coverage I don’t need, producing copies of all pertinent documents, and an official ID photo, I eventually walked out of the office with my official Sciences Po student card. I’m glad to finally have it because it’s very useful around the city. There are lots of places that give discounts to students, and with the Euro being as strong as it is, that can only help.
Saturday morning I got up and got ready as quickly as I could because it was Journées du Patrimoine. It’s like European Heritage weekend. It’s only once a year when all sorts of government buildings and historical places, etc. are open to the public, most for free. I didn’t realize what a big deal it is even for the French, so I had made a list of about 8 places that I wanted to go (mostly government places) and really thought I’d get to see them all. Number one on my list was the Palais d’Elysée which is the French equivalent of the White House. The differences being that the President doesn’t live there, he just works there, and that it doesn’t have quite the same recognition among the French as the White House does with Americans. Basically anyone off the street in the US can tell you the White House is at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., but when someone asked our French teacher in class where Elysée was, I had to point it out on a map cause she didn’t know. This is the only time during the year that it is open to the public and this year was the first time ever that people were allowed in to see the President’s office (like the Oval Office). I figured I’d have to wait in line for a while, but I had no idea just how long it would end up being.
I went in the morning because I heard that you had to go pretty early if you wanted to get in, and the line was already around the corner, down the street, around another corner, through a park, almost out to the Champs Elysée. I didn’t know how slow it was moving so I got in, although if I had known how long it would end up taking I’m not sure I would have made that same decision. I was glad that I had had the foresight to bring along the course catalogue since I needed to pick out classes for registration on Monday, as well as my new french copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and my iPod. I did not, however, bring a jacket because it was supposed to be up in the 70s and sunny. Evidently that forecast was not for the morning, because it was grey and chilly standing in line. I read course descriptions and highlighted the ones I was interested in for the first hour, and then alternated between reading and alternated between reading my book and people watching for the rest of the time. News crews and journalists came by filming the long lines for their stories about Journée du Patrimoine, and I think every gendarme (police officer) in the greater Paris region was parked along the streets. There were some young guys in line behind me and they provided me with some entertainment listening to their conversations. At one point one of them asked “so has anyone heard if Sarkozy has a mistress yet?” The other one answered that he didn’t think so yet, so far Sarkozy is monogamous, but it wouldn’t be hard since he had heard women are always throwing themselves at him and giving him their phone numbers. It struck me as odd how this is a perfectly normal conversation in France. The personal lives of French Presidents are not really secret, and it is common knowledge that most of them have relationships on the side. They thought it was ridiculous when Americans flipped out about the whole Monica Lewinski thing. If you express shock about someone having an affair, they stare at you blankly, shrug, and say “Mais, c’est normale.” Of course this is a country where Mitterand’s mistress and illegitimate daughter walked behind his casket at the official State funeral, so it’s obvious that their society is much more accepting of infidelity.
For some reason, standing in line for a chance to get into the presidential palace made me think of journeying to the Emerald City hoping to get to see the wizard, so I pretended I was Dorothy and that the three guys behind me were Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion. Give me a break, I was in line for SIX HOURS. I have to say, it would have been a lot more fun with some dancing midgets and some flying monkeys.
The Palais de l’Elysée was built in 1718 for the Comte d’Evreux and has been the official residence of the president of the Republic since 1873. It was redecorated in the early 1800s by Napoleon’s sister Caroline and her husband who lived there for several years. Napoleon himself also resided there for a while, and it was here that he signed his abdication in 1815 after his defeat at Waterloo. After being elected president, Napoleon III stayed at Elysée, and the layout of the current palace dates to his renovation. During the Third Republic the palace became the official home of the French President, but it wasn’t until de Gaulle and the Fifth Republic that it actually became the “political heart of France.” That’s because from the 1800s- 1958 the president of France was basically an honorary position that had no real power. It was only under the new Constitution of the Fifth Republic, led by de Gaulle, that the President of the Republic became an important political actor. And it wasn’t until 1965 that the President was elected by direct universal suffrage.
So I got in line about 10 am and only 6 hours later I finally made it into the Presidential palace. Of course the sun came out and began to warm the day right about the time I was headed inside. We entered through the courtyard, where they had a few of the Presidential cars on display, and into the entry way called the Vestibule of Honor. There is a sculpture that Mitterand had installed in the 80s to commemorate the French revolution. The sculpture is 200 white flags carved from marble. I wonder if the French realize what it looks like to the rest of the world that the first thing you see when you walk into the presidential palace is 200 white flags? Ah well, maybe it’s just an expression of that famous French wit. Walking through Elysée was pretty neat. We saw the room where the President meets with his close advisors every morning, and the room where they have the weekly cabinet meetings, but by far the coolest part was the President’s formal office. It’s very ornate and decorated so fancy that it’s hard to imagine anyone being able to do serious work in there. That may be why there is another personal office for the President to use, although it was still pretty fancy. In every room there was at least one member of the Presidential Guard in full dress uniform. I’m pretty sure Walt Disney copied their uniform when he drew Prince Charming in Cinderella. All in all, it was pretty neat, and it is unlikely that I will again have that opportunity, so I’m glad I did it, even if it took an entire day. Now if only Sarkozy had been in the office...
bisous-
Lyndsey
Saturday morning I got up and got ready as quickly as I could because it was Journées du Patrimoine. It’s like European Heritage weekend. It’s only once a year when all sorts of government buildings and historical places, etc. are open to the public, most for free. I didn’t realize what a big deal it is even for the French, so I had made a list of about 8 places that I wanted to go (mostly government places) and really thought I’d get to see them all. Number one on my list was the Palais d’Elysée which is the French equivalent of the White House. The differences being that the President doesn’t live there, he just works there, and that it doesn’t have quite the same recognition among the French as the White House does with Americans. Basically anyone off the street in the US can tell you the White House is at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., but when someone asked our French teacher in class where Elysée was, I had to point it out on a map cause she didn’t know. This is the only time during the year that it is open to the public and this year was the first time ever that people were allowed in to see the President’s office (like the Oval Office). I figured I’d have to wait in line for a while, but I had no idea just how long it would end up being.
I went in the morning because I heard that you had to go pretty early if you wanted to get in, and the line was already around the corner, down the street, around another corner, through a park, almost out to the Champs Elysée. I didn’t know how slow it was moving so I got in, although if I had known how long it would end up taking I’m not sure I would have made that same decision. I was glad that I had had the foresight to bring along the course catalogue since I needed to pick out classes for registration on Monday, as well as my new french copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and my iPod. I did not, however, bring a jacket because it was supposed to be up in the 70s and sunny. Evidently that forecast was not for the morning, because it was grey and chilly standing in line. I read course descriptions and highlighted the ones I was interested in for the first hour, and then alternated between reading and alternated between reading my book and people watching for the rest of the time. News crews and journalists came by filming the long lines for their stories about Journée du Patrimoine, and I think every gendarme (police officer) in the greater Paris region was parked along the streets. There were some young guys in line behind me and they provided me with some entertainment listening to their conversations. At one point one of them asked “so has anyone heard if Sarkozy has a mistress yet?” The other one answered that he didn’t think so yet, so far Sarkozy is monogamous, but it wouldn’t be hard since he had heard women are always throwing themselves at him and giving him their phone numbers. It struck me as odd how this is a perfectly normal conversation in France. The personal lives of French Presidents are not really secret, and it is common knowledge that most of them have relationships on the side. They thought it was ridiculous when Americans flipped out about the whole Monica Lewinski thing. If you express shock about someone having an affair, they stare at you blankly, shrug, and say “Mais, c’est normale.” Of course this is a country where Mitterand’s mistress and illegitimate daughter walked behind his casket at the official State funeral, so it’s obvious that their society is much more accepting of infidelity.
For some reason, standing in line for a chance to get into the presidential palace made me think of journeying to the Emerald City hoping to get to see the wizard, so I pretended I was Dorothy and that the three guys behind me were Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion. Give me a break, I was in line for SIX HOURS. I have to say, it would have been a lot more fun with some dancing midgets and some flying monkeys.
The Palais de l’Elysée was built in 1718 for the Comte d’Evreux and has been the official residence of the president of the Republic since 1873. It was redecorated in the early 1800s by Napoleon’s sister Caroline and her husband who lived there for several years. Napoleon himself also resided there for a while, and it was here that he signed his abdication in 1815 after his defeat at Waterloo. After being elected president, Napoleon III stayed at Elysée, and the layout of the current palace dates to his renovation. During the Third Republic the palace became the official home of the French President, but it wasn’t until de Gaulle and the Fifth Republic that it actually became the “political heart of France.” That’s because from the 1800s- 1958 the president of France was basically an honorary position that had no real power. It was only under the new Constitution of the Fifth Republic, led by de Gaulle, that the President of the Republic became an important political actor. And it wasn’t until 1965 that the President was elected by direct universal suffrage.
So I got in line about 10 am and only 6 hours later I finally made it into the Presidential palace. Of course the sun came out and began to warm the day right about the time I was headed inside. We entered through the courtyard, where they had a few of the Presidential cars on display, and into the entry way called the Vestibule of Honor. There is a sculpture that Mitterand had installed in the 80s to commemorate the French revolution. The sculpture is 200 white flags carved from marble. I wonder if the French realize what it looks like to the rest of the world that the first thing you see when you walk into the presidential palace is 200 white flags? Ah well, maybe it’s just an expression of that famous French wit. Walking through Elysée was pretty neat. We saw the room where the President meets with his close advisors every morning, and the room where they have the weekly cabinet meetings, but by far the coolest part was the President’s formal office. It’s very ornate and decorated so fancy that it’s hard to imagine anyone being able to do serious work in there. That may be why there is another personal office for the President to use, although it was still pretty fancy. In every room there was at least one member of the Presidential Guard in full dress uniform. I’m pretty sure Walt Disney copied their uniform when he drew Prince Charming in Cinderella. All in all, it was pretty neat, and it is unlikely that I will again have that opportunity, so I’m glad I did it, even if it took an entire day. Now if only Sarkozy had been in the office...
bisous-
Lyndsey
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bring on Week Two
Monday was a day of much confusion. In our schedule it said that we were supposed to have a meeting of all the international students in the amphitheater at 8 am. However there was a sign on the amphitheater saying it had been moved to 10. What’s more, our french class began at 9:30. So we went to class and asked the teacher if we were supposed to go since it was a mandatory meeting. She said it wasn’t mandatory, obviously, since we had class and they wouldn’t schedule a meeting that was obligatory during class. I didn’t tell her, but if she thinks that she doesn’t know a lot about Sciences Po... So She said we could leave if we wanted but that it was really more important for us to be in French class. She said she didn’t care but she made it seem like we would be horrible people if we left. So I stayed and a couple went. I figured it was just a general “hey we’re glad you’ve come to such a wonderful school...blah blah blah.” We met up with the everyone at lunch time and, as it turned out, the meeting lasted 2 hours and was full of important information about classes and grades, etc. etc. etc. Fortunately we knew people who went who could tell us what we missed, but I was a little annoyed that the teacher didn’t know that we had to be there. There was, fortunately, part two of the meeting scheduled for that afternoon, although that wasn’t listed on the schedule.
We hung out until time for the meeting to resume. They took the opportunity to tell us about online class registration, something we’ve all been worried about. And they were less than optimistic. Basically the gist was: you aren’t going to get the classes you want, there’s nothing you can do about it, if you change your mind about a class- too bad, no drop/add, and we’re not going to tell you the times of the classes until the day before registration so that you aren’t picking classes based on time. And on top of that they grade really hard, we’re all going to get bad grades, and the French students aren’t going to like us. Okay so that might be a lose interpretation of what they actually said, but it was very discouraging, and I left the meeting with a less-than-great outlook on life. Plus we had to sit there for two hours while people asked redundant questions that only pertained to one or two people.
Not fun. So after that day it was nice to be able to go home and veg.
Tuesday was a much better day. No depressing meetings, and it was actually a day I had been looking forward to because I had signed up for a tour of the Assemblée Nationale. As part of the welcome program they have extra activities that you can sign up for to experience the city and make more friends. The National Assembly is the lower house of the French parliament and it’s not something you can just walk into and visit, so I was excited to have a chance to tour it. There was a big group of students who wanted to go because well, we’re all a bunch of poli-sci nerds. They gave us the option of using an audi-guide in whatever language you wanted or going with the tour guide in French. I opted for the tour guide. It was pretty neat, like visiting the Capitol building. We were in the main chamber where they meet, and got to go see the rooms where the deputies (Representatives) work and where they hold press conferences, etc. My favorite room in the place was the library. It reminded me of the one in Beauty and the Beast that the Beast gives to Belle as a present. Anyway, we were allowed to take pictures during our tour, though it is normally not allowed, because Parliament isn’t in session so it’s kind of dead around there. However no photography is allowed in the library because there were people working in there, and they probably want to protect the paintings and such too. It was a long tour but very interesting, especially since our guide explained a lot of how the French government works since she knew we probably didn’t know a lot of the details. It’s possible to get a guest pass to go sit in on an assembly meeting, so I may try to do that sometime if I ever have a chance, but she said they basically only work on budget stuff from October-December so it’s not a very exciting time to visit.
a plus tard-
Lyndsey
We hung out until time for the meeting to resume. They took the opportunity to tell us about online class registration, something we’ve all been worried about. And they were less than optimistic. Basically the gist was: you aren’t going to get the classes you want, there’s nothing you can do about it, if you change your mind about a class- too bad, no drop/add, and we’re not going to tell you the times of the classes until the day before registration so that you aren’t picking classes based on time. And on top of that they grade really hard, we’re all going to get bad grades, and the French students aren’t going to like us. Okay so that might be a lose interpretation of what they actually said, but it was very discouraging, and I left the meeting with a less-than-great outlook on life. Plus we had to sit there for two hours while people asked redundant questions that only pertained to one or two people.
Not fun. So after that day it was nice to be able to go home and veg.
Tuesday was a much better day. No depressing meetings, and it was actually a day I had been looking forward to because I had signed up for a tour of the Assemblée Nationale. As part of the welcome program they have extra activities that you can sign up for to experience the city and make more friends. The National Assembly is the lower house of the French parliament and it’s not something you can just walk into and visit, so I was excited to have a chance to tour it. There was a big group of students who wanted to go because well, we’re all a bunch of poli-sci nerds. They gave us the option of using an audi-guide in whatever language you wanted or going with the tour guide in French. I opted for the tour guide. It was pretty neat, like visiting the Capitol building. We were in the main chamber where they meet, and got to go see the rooms where the deputies (Representatives) work and where they hold press conferences, etc. My favorite room in the place was the library. It reminded me of the one in Beauty and the Beast that the Beast gives to Belle as a present. Anyway, we were allowed to take pictures during our tour, though it is normally not allowed, because Parliament isn’t in session so it’s kind of dead around there. However no photography is allowed in the library because there were people working in there, and they probably want to protect the paintings and such too. It was a long tour but very interesting, especially since our guide explained a lot of how the French government works since she knew we probably didn’t know a lot of the details. It’s possible to get a guest pass to go sit in on an assembly meeting, so I may try to do that sometime if I ever have a chance, but she said they basically only work on budget stuff from October-December so it’s not a very exciting time to visit.
a plus tard-
Lyndsey
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Good to be Back
I had been looking forward to Sunday for a while. Honestly since the last time I left Paris I’ve been wanting to go back to Emmanuel International Church (EIC). Emmanuel is an English speaking church in the suburbs of Paris that is affiliated with the International Baptist Convention. I found it online the last time I was here and I really enjoyed it, although I didn’t get to attend as often as I wanted because of the study abroad program. I got up early Sunday because I couldn’t remember exactly how long it took to get out there. It’s quite a long haul because it’s not in the city. I have to take 2 metros to the edge of Paris and then a long bus ride through the Bois de Bologne out to Rueil where the church is. It’s really a rather pleasant trip, but when you are reliant on public transportation you can’t just roll out of bed and go when you want. The bus leaves every 20 mins so if you are counting on catching the last possible one and you miss it...well then you are at least 20 mins late to church. Emmanuel isn’t a big church, either in building size or congregation size, but it is extremely active and welcoming. The service was nice, and I was glad I had been to young adults Bible study because I had some new friends to sit with.
Afterwards, they were talking about the church fall retreat that is coming up in October. Ruth, one of the ladies that helps lead the young adult group, told me that if you volunteer to help with the childcare some during the weekend then you can go for free, so that is exactly what I am going to do. The retreat is the first weekend in October and is to a retreat center in the Loire Valley. I’m excited because it’ll be really nice to get out of the city and into nature some. Plus the Loire Valley is beautiful, and it’ll be a good chance to get to know some of the other church members outside of the young adult group. It’ll also be cool because Emmanuel has a French congregation that meets in the evening and they are coming too, so the retreat will be bilingual.
Sunday afternoon I was sitting at my computer, talking online and watching Friends when, who should come in through my open window but my Parisian kitty friend. He (I call him he but I really don’t know) was a little tentative at first but seemed to warm up to me a bit as he sniffed every single thing in my apartment. Every corner, shelf, under the bed, behind the bed, in the closet, on the chair- it all got a thorough once over. I myself received the inspection, I guess I passed because he didn’t leave, but he was still a little jumpy and wouldn’t let me pet him, although he did entertain me with a tail chasing incident. I figure he must be someone’s pet, but who knows. He wandered around my apartment for a good 45 mins checking everything out, and when he was done he said goodbye and jumped out the window. Well at least I think he said goodbye, he meowed once, and then left, but I speak American cat so maybe he was telling me off, who knows.
A bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
Afterwards, they were talking about the church fall retreat that is coming up in October. Ruth, one of the ladies that helps lead the young adult group, told me that if you volunteer to help with the childcare some during the weekend then you can go for free, so that is exactly what I am going to do. The retreat is the first weekend in October and is to a retreat center in the Loire Valley. I’m excited because it’ll be really nice to get out of the city and into nature some. Plus the Loire Valley is beautiful, and it’ll be a good chance to get to know some of the other church members outside of the young adult group. It’ll also be cool because Emmanuel has a French congregation that meets in the evening and they are coming too, so the retreat will be bilingual.
Sunday afternoon I was sitting at my computer, talking online and watching Friends when, who should come in through my open window but my Parisian kitty friend. He (I call him he but I really don’t know) was a little tentative at first but seemed to warm up to me a bit as he sniffed every single thing in my apartment. Every corner, shelf, under the bed, behind the bed, in the closet, on the chair- it all got a thorough once over. I myself received the inspection, I guess I passed because he didn’t leave, but he was still a little jumpy and wouldn’t let me pet him, although he did entertain me with a tail chasing incident. I figure he must be someone’s pet, but who knows. He wandered around my apartment for a good 45 mins checking everything out, and when he was done he said goodbye and jumped out the window. Well at least I think he said goodbye, he meowed once, and then left, but I speak American cat so maybe he was telling me off, who knows.
A bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
La Sainte Bible and why I wear an iPod
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. It was pleasantly warm with a slight breeze and not a cloud in the sky. You couldn’t ask for a nicer day in Paris. I had some errands I wanted to run and so I decided to do some strolling instead of taking the metro. And because it was so warm out I opted for a skirt, a tank top, and some flats. I was feeling very Parisian wandering along the stores by Hotel de Ville. Out in the square in front of the Hotel de Ville they had a giant television set up and a wide expanse of astro-turf laid down in front of it. It was a special deal set up for the Rugby World Cup where they would replay the previous night's games on the T.V. while people lounged in the sun on the fake grass. There were a ton of people out there sunning and watching rugby. They even had some of the statues in front of the Hotel de Ville dressed up in French rugby shirts.
I headed towards the Pompidou center because a girl at Bible study the night before told me where to find a Christian bookstore there called CLC. I don’t know if it’s the only one in Paris, but close to it anyway. It was pretty neat, similar to one in the U.S. but with a much smaller selection. They had a lot of American music and tons of Gospel because the French love Gospel for some reason. I had been wanting a French Bible ever since the last time I was here, but I could never find one in regular book stores, and the ones I found online were expensive. I was really excited to finally have one. I just think it’s so cool to see how it’s translated and to be able to read it in another language. I also came across a french translation of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so I got that to have some fun reading to practice my French as well.
With that mission accomplished and the sun warming the streets, I started some aimless wandering. I wandered into a sports store to look at the Rugby World Cup gear, and then spotted a cutesy little boutique across the way so went to check that out. It was a fun place, lots of cooky stuff and I was enjoying browsing even though it was plenty full of people. I had my iPod headphones in, as I almost always do when I am on the street or in the metro, or basically anyplace crowded. I do this mainly to discourage people from talking to me. It keeps me from having to respond to random french comments that I may or may not understand, and even if it doesn’t prevent audacious persistent French guys from trying to hit on you, it does make it a lot easier to ignore them. So I was looking at something on a shelf and there was a guy standing next to me, and because the place was crowded I wasn’t on my guard. He was in my way so when I looked up he caught my eye and said “it’s cute, isn’t it?” indicating the store. “Oui.” I said, without thinking. It was a rookie mistake. I realize the instant I opened my mouth that I broke my own rule, which is- ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS ignore guys who try to talk to you. The direction question was difficult to ignore though, especially since I’d already made eye contact. In retrospect I could have pretended not to speak French, or English or any other language he spoke. Ah well, live and learn.
So anyway, I said a curt yes, and turned and walked away. He followed. I was hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone, but I’m not that naive. The reason it is best to just ignore French guys is that they take any type of response as an invitation to keep trying. They just assume you are playing hard-to-get if you tell them to leave you alone. So I continued shopping and he kept hanging around between me and the exit, so I decided just to leave and as I was heading for the door he stepped in front of me. It was a really narrow store and I couldn’t get around him. “Excuse me...” (at least he was polite) “I would really like to make your acquaintance, do you think that would be possible?” he said, smiling charmingly. Don’t be fooled, it may sound flattering, but most guys who accost you in the street and tell you they want to “make your acquaintance” aren’t really wanting to chat over a cup of tea. That was one of those moments when I really wish that I didn’t just know classroom french. The problem I have is that I was trained to speak french so politely as to never risk insulting someone, so I instinctively use the formal form of “you” and always add “madame” or “Monsieur” and am effusive with the “merci”s. And, I have no idea how to tell someone off in French. So a quick scan of my french vocab produced nothing stronger than “Non.” And then because it is habit... I added “Merci” and proceeded to hurry from the shop. Once I got around the corner I had to laugh at myself because, not only did I not tell the guy off, I actually told him no in the politest way possible. “Non, merci!” Ah well, I guess I should add “learn street french” to my to-do list. And I guess that goes to show that earphones are not sufficient deterrence in all cases.
And to end on a good note, a verse from my French Bible. I picked an easy one so you'll know what it says:
"Car Dieu a tant aimé le monde qu'il a donné son Fils unique, afin que quiconque croit en lui ne périsse pas, mais qu'il ait la vie éternelle." - Jean 3:16
-Take care!- Lyndsey
I headed towards the Pompidou center because a girl at Bible study the night before told me where to find a Christian bookstore there called CLC. I don’t know if it’s the only one in Paris, but close to it anyway. It was pretty neat, similar to one in the U.S. but with a much smaller selection. They had a lot of American music and tons of Gospel because the French love Gospel for some reason. I had been wanting a French Bible ever since the last time I was here, but I could never find one in regular book stores, and the ones I found online were expensive. I was really excited to finally have one. I just think it’s so cool to see how it’s translated and to be able to read it in another language. I also came across a french translation of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so I got that to have some fun reading to practice my French as well.
With that mission accomplished and the sun warming the streets, I started some aimless wandering. I wandered into a sports store to look at the Rugby World Cup gear, and then spotted a cutesy little boutique across the way so went to check that out. It was a fun place, lots of cooky stuff and I was enjoying browsing even though it was plenty full of people. I had my iPod headphones in, as I almost always do when I am on the street or in the metro, or basically anyplace crowded. I do this mainly to discourage people from talking to me. It keeps me from having to respond to random french comments that I may or may not understand, and even if it doesn’t prevent audacious persistent French guys from trying to hit on you, it does make it a lot easier to ignore them. So I was looking at something on a shelf and there was a guy standing next to me, and because the place was crowded I wasn’t on my guard. He was in my way so when I looked up he caught my eye and said “it’s cute, isn’t it?” indicating the store. “Oui.” I said, without thinking. It was a rookie mistake. I realize the instant I opened my mouth that I broke my own rule, which is- ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS ignore guys who try to talk to you. The direction question was difficult to ignore though, especially since I’d already made eye contact. In retrospect I could have pretended not to speak French, or English or any other language he spoke. Ah well, live and learn.
So anyway, I said a curt yes, and turned and walked away. He followed. I was hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone, but I’m not that naive. The reason it is best to just ignore French guys is that they take any type of response as an invitation to keep trying. They just assume you are playing hard-to-get if you tell them to leave you alone. So I continued shopping and he kept hanging around between me and the exit, so I decided just to leave and as I was heading for the door he stepped in front of me. It was a really narrow store and I couldn’t get around him. “Excuse me...” (at least he was polite) “I would really like to make your acquaintance, do you think that would be possible?” he said, smiling charmingly. Don’t be fooled, it may sound flattering, but most guys who accost you in the street and tell you they want to “make your acquaintance” aren’t really wanting to chat over a cup of tea. That was one of those moments when I really wish that I didn’t just know classroom french. The problem I have is that I was trained to speak french so politely as to never risk insulting someone, so I instinctively use the formal form of “you” and always add “madame” or “Monsieur” and am effusive with the “merci”s. And, I have no idea how to tell someone off in French. So a quick scan of my french vocab produced nothing stronger than “Non.” And then because it is habit... I added “Merci” and proceeded to hurry from the shop. Once I got around the corner I had to laugh at myself because, not only did I not tell the guy off, I actually told him no in the politest way possible. “Non, merci!” Ah well, I guess I should add “learn street french” to my to-do list. And I guess that goes to show that earphones are not sufficient deterrence in all cases.
And to end on a good note, a verse from my French Bible. I picked an easy one so you'll know what it says:
"Car Dieu a tant aimé le monde qu'il a donné son Fils unique, afin que quiconque croit en lui ne périsse pas, mais qu'il ait la vie éternelle." - Jean 3:16
-Take care!- Lyndsey
Monday, September 17, 2007
How to say hello in Dutch, the French version of Affirmative Action, and Young Adults Bible Study
*WARNING*- This is a long one and if you don’t care anything about reading about the French higher education system, my school, and their version of affirmative action, then you should skip down to the *****
Friday morning was grey and cool, but it hasn’t begun to get really cold here yet. Class was fairly interesting because we watched a tape of a news show about Sciences-Po. It was talking about the “revolution” that the current director started in 2001. It’s the first program of its kind at any elite school in France and was highly controversial to begin with. It’s a kind of affirmative action, but it’s not at all the same thing as in America so don’t start jumping to conclusions. I guess for you to understand why this is such a big deal in France you need to know a bit about their colleges.
I will take this opportunity to tell you just a tad about higher education in France. I’ll do my best to give you the gist, but to be honest, I don’t even fully understand the nuances of it all so this is just to the best of my understanding. France has a public university system which is good, but not prestigious. Anyone can go to a university as long as they passed the Bac. (Le Baccalaureate is the big test at the end of high school, kind of like the SATs but harder and subject specific and there is a pass/fail standard.) Then they have... Les Grandes Ecoles. In reality these Grandes Ecoles don’t have an equivalent in America. The closest thing to compare them to is the Ivy League, but it’s really a different system. These schools are not part of the rest of the university system. They are smaller (only 4% of students attend a Grande Ecole), they have more money, are generally focused on a single subject area, they are ridiculously competitive, and you are almost guaranteed a job upon graduating. If you graduate from a Grande Ecole you are pretty much set for life. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but seriously, the next generation of the French elite is made up of those who come from a Grande Ecole. Students who graduate from high school and are going to go to a Grande Ecole first go through a couple years of preparatory classes called Prepa and is geared towards the school you hope to attend. (Kind of how some students go to junior college first, but WAY WAY harder) After Prepa you have to sit for a very challenging entrance exam at the Grande Ecole of your choice and then hope you are selected. If not...back to square one.
Technically there is no standard definition or official list of Grandes Ecoles. Higher education establishments which are not part of the university system are legally called “écoles supérieures”. Sciences-Po is not technically a Grande Ecole because there is no Prepa class for it, but because it isn’t part of the university system and has a competitive entrance exam, it is considered an école supérieure. In reality, however, it does get lumped in with the Grandes Ecoles because it is so selective and highly prestigious. Officially it is l’Institut des Etudes Politiques (IEP). Basically all the students at Sciences-Po want to go to ENA- Ecole Nationale d’Administration, which is another Grande Ecole and is the postgraduate school for public administration from which almost all high ranking members of the French government graduate. To get an idea of how truly selective these schools are, the thirteen top Grandes Ecoles (one of which is Sciences Po) combined graduate fewer than 5,000 students a year and account for only 1% of French higher education.
Did you follow that? It’s complicated. All that’s to say that Sciences Po has the reputation for being a very prestigious school which extremely high admission standards that is only accessible by the elite. I knew it was a good university and highly respected but I didn’t realize how much clout it carries in French society. When I’m talking to a French person or someone who has lived in or knows a lot about France, and I tell them I’m studying at Sciences Po, they always raise their eyebrows and say “Really? Congratulations!” But the point of this explanation being that you have to understand the French system and the school’s reputation in order to understand why the recent changes are such a big deal.
Anyway the video was explaining how, since 2001, the director of Sciences Po has been trying to increase socioeconomic diversity in the student body and make the school more accessible to students from lower economic classes. When I was first watching it I basically understood it as affirmative action and it kind of annoyed me and I could understand why students were upset about it. But once I understood it better I changed my mind. Although it’s called a type of affirmative action, it has absolutely nothing to do with race. Of course there is some correlation between economic level and ethnicity, especially in Paris, but the actual process is not based on the color of your skin. Fort he past few years, Science Po has been sending recruiters into some of the high schools of the economically depressed suburbs of Paris to invite the best students to apply. This is important because most of the students from those areas see Sciences Po as an unattainable dream and won’t bother applying. But instead of having to sit the rigorous exam that is based all on writing, these students are admitted based on their school record and a 45- min interview. This is because students from poorer schools, often immigrants, might be as capable as another student, but not express themselves at the same level in written work because that’s usually the area they are most disadvantaged. It has been called a revolution because it is the first policy like this to ever be tried in France, although so far only 189 students have been admitted this way (there are no such things as quotas). There was a lot of controversy initially, but now it has become more accepted and many think other Grandes Ecoles should follow suit. Frankly, I think they’ve actually managed to improve on the American idea of affirmative action, and it’s really a necessary step because of the way the Grandes Ecoles reinforce the class divisions in French society.
**** One of the girls in my french class, Rosemary (that’s the english translation), is from the Netherlands and she’s really sweet. There are quite a few other kids from Holland here and so I sometimes end up in a group with a lot of them. I figure one benefit of being around so many internationals is at least maybe I can pick up a few phrases in other languages. Friday after class, my other English speaking compatriots vanished and I was hanging out with Rose. Suddenly I realized that all of her friends had joined us and I was the only American in a group of 7 Dutch people. They all speak English very well (Universities in the Netherlands are all in English) but when they get around each other they obviously switch to their most comfortable language. I don't blame them, I'd do the same thing. Every now and then they’d stop and translate, but sitting there having no idea what they were saying really made me feel like a foreigner for the first time since being in Europe. Around French people it’s fine cause I speak the language, but with them I definitely felt like an outsider. Surprisingly though I could often tell what they were talking about, if not the exact words. My other friend Claire walked up and started telling a story and I surmised that she was talking about her French teacher wanting to move her to the next level and her not really wanting to go. They didn’t translate it and about 15 mins later we were talking about French class in English and Rose started to explain that “Claire..” and I finished with “was told she can go to level three but she doesn’t want to?” The look on her face was pretty surprised. “How did you know that?!” I told her I heard Claire tell the story and I kind of just guessed that’s what she was talking about. “You speak Dutch!” she said. Not exactly, but I was impressed with my ability to generally know what subject they were talking about. Some words are similar to English words so that helps I’m sure, and being able to read body language and such was also helpful. I told Rose I want to actually learn some Dutch phrases so she told me “hoi” is hi, and “bedankt” is thanks.
I had been looking forward to Friday night all week because it was my church’s first Young Adults Bible Study of the year. It’s a biweekly event at the Pastor’s apartment in Paris, and I really enjoyed going when I was here last time, but I wasn’t able to go often because the study abroad program booked all our weekend. Anyway, it was a good time. Saw a few familiar faces and met a few more. The numbers were a bit lower than usual but it is still that transition time of the year. We had dinner and chatted and then, since the young adults minister is away on vacation, one of the student leaders, a French guy named Amandeo, led it. Since it was their first meeting of the year we were talking about our purpose as a group and what our mission is, kind of the same stuff we had been doing at home before I left. I enjoyed it, but there was definitely a brief moment when I was sitting there thinking that in a few hours everyone in Daytona was going to be doing the same thing, and that made me miss FNBS and everyone at FBC. But it was great to be around other Christians and other young adults since my only chance to make friends so far has been at Sciences Po. And I’m very glad that I get to make my own schedule this time around and get as involved in Emmanuel and the young adults group as I would have liked to have been last time.
Friday morning was grey and cool, but it hasn’t begun to get really cold here yet. Class was fairly interesting because we watched a tape of a news show about Sciences-Po. It was talking about the “revolution” that the current director started in 2001. It’s the first program of its kind at any elite school in France and was highly controversial to begin with. It’s a kind of affirmative action, but it’s not at all the same thing as in America so don’t start jumping to conclusions. I guess for you to understand why this is such a big deal in France you need to know a bit about their colleges.
I will take this opportunity to tell you just a tad about higher education in France. I’ll do my best to give you the gist, but to be honest, I don’t even fully understand the nuances of it all so this is just to the best of my understanding. France has a public university system which is good, but not prestigious. Anyone can go to a university as long as they passed the Bac. (Le Baccalaureate is the big test at the end of high school, kind of like the SATs but harder and subject specific and there is a pass/fail standard.) Then they have... Les Grandes Ecoles. In reality these Grandes Ecoles don’t have an equivalent in America. The closest thing to compare them to is the Ivy League, but it’s really a different system. These schools are not part of the rest of the university system. They are smaller (only 4% of students attend a Grande Ecole), they have more money, are generally focused on a single subject area, they are ridiculously competitive, and you are almost guaranteed a job upon graduating. If you graduate from a Grande Ecole you are pretty much set for life. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but seriously, the next generation of the French elite is made up of those who come from a Grande Ecole. Students who graduate from high school and are going to go to a Grande Ecole first go through a couple years of preparatory classes called Prepa and is geared towards the school you hope to attend. (Kind of how some students go to junior college first, but WAY WAY harder) After Prepa you have to sit for a very challenging entrance exam at the Grande Ecole of your choice and then hope you are selected. If not...back to square one.
Technically there is no standard definition or official list of Grandes Ecoles. Higher education establishments which are not part of the university system are legally called “écoles supérieures”. Sciences-Po is not technically a Grande Ecole because there is no Prepa class for it, but because it isn’t part of the university system and has a competitive entrance exam, it is considered an école supérieure. In reality, however, it does get lumped in with the Grandes Ecoles because it is so selective and highly prestigious. Officially it is l’Institut des Etudes Politiques (IEP). Basically all the students at Sciences-Po want to go to ENA- Ecole Nationale d’Administration, which is another Grande Ecole and is the postgraduate school for public administration from which almost all high ranking members of the French government graduate. To get an idea of how truly selective these schools are, the thirteen top Grandes Ecoles (one of which is Sciences Po) combined graduate fewer than 5,000 students a year and account for only 1% of French higher education.
Did you follow that? It’s complicated. All that’s to say that Sciences Po has the reputation for being a very prestigious school which extremely high admission standards that is only accessible by the elite. I knew it was a good university and highly respected but I didn’t realize how much clout it carries in French society. When I’m talking to a French person or someone who has lived in or knows a lot about France, and I tell them I’m studying at Sciences Po, they always raise their eyebrows and say “Really? Congratulations!” But the point of this explanation being that you have to understand the French system and the school’s reputation in order to understand why the recent changes are such a big deal.
Anyway the video was explaining how, since 2001, the director of Sciences Po has been trying to increase socioeconomic diversity in the student body and make the school more accessible to students from lower economic classes. When I was first watching it I basically understood it as affirmative action and it kind of annoyed me and I could understand why students were upset about it. But once I understood it better I changed my mind. Although it’s called a type of affirmative action, it has absolutely nothing to do with race. Of course there is some correlation between economic level and ethnicity, especially in Paris, but the actual process is not based on the color of your skin. Fort he past few years, Science Po has been sending recruiters into some of the high schools of the economically depressed suburbs of Paris to invite the best students to apply. This is important because most of the students from those areas see Sciences Po as an unattainable dream and won’t bother applying. But instead of having to sit the rigorous exam that is based all on writing, these students are admitted based on their school record and a 45- min interview. This is because students from poorer schools, often immigrants, might be as capable as another student, but not express themselves at the same level in written work because that’s usually the area they are most disadvantaged. It has been called a revolution because it is the first policy like this to ever be tried in France, although so far only 189 students have been admitted this way (there are no such things as quotas). There was a lot of controversy initially, but now it has become more accepted and many think other Grandes Ecoles should follow suit. Frankly, I think they’ve actually managed to improve on the American idea of affirmative action, and it’s really a necessary step because of the way the Grandes Ecoles reinforce the class divisions in French society.
**** One of the girls in my french class, Rosemary (that’s the english translation), is from the Netherlands and she’s really sweet. There are quite a few other kids from Holland here and so I sometimes end up in a group with a lot of them. I figure one benefit of being around so many internationals is at least maybe I can pick up a few phrases in other languages. Friday after class, my other English speaking compatriots vanished and I was hanging out with Rose. Suddenly I realized that all of her friends had joined us and I was the only American in a group of 7 Dutch people. They all speak English very well (Universities in the Netherlands are all in English) but when they get around each other they obviously switch to their most comfortable language. I don't blame them, I'd do the same thing. Every now and then they’d stop and translate, but sitting there having no idea what they were saying really made me feel like a foreigner for the first time since being in Europe. Around French people it’s fine cause I speak the language, but with them I definitely felt like an outsider. Surprisingly though I could often tell what they were talking about, if not the exact words. My other friend Claire walked up and started telling a story and I surmised that she was talking about her French teacher wanting to move her to the next level and her not really wanting to go. They didn’t translate it and about 15 mins later we were talking about French class in English and Rose started to explain that “Claire..” and I finished with “was told she can go to level three but she doesn’t want to?” The look on her face was pretty surprised. “How did you know that?!” I told her I heard Claire tell the story and I kind of just guessed that’s what she was talking about. “You speak Dutch!” she said. Not exactly, but I was impressed with my ability to generally know what subject they were talking about. Some words are similar to English words so that helps I’m sure, and being able to read body language and such was also helpful. I told Rose I want to actually learn some Dutch phrases so she told me “hoi” is hi, and “bedankt” is thanks.
I had been looking forward to Friday night all week because it was my church’s first Young Adults Bible Study of the year. It’s a biweekly event at the Pastor’s apartment in Paris, and I really enjoyed going when I was here last time, but I wasn’t able to go often because the study abroad program booked all our weekend. Anyway, it was a good time. Saw a few familiar faces and met a few more. The numbers were a bit lower than usual but it is still that transition time of the year. We had dinner and chatted and then, since the young adults minister is away on vacation, one of the student leaders, a French guy named Amandeo, led it. Since it was their first meeting of the year we were talking about our purpose as a group and what our mission is, kind of the same stuff we had been doing at home before I left. I enjoyed it, but there was definitely a brief moment when I was sitting there thinking that in a few hours everyone in Daytona was going to be doing the same thing, and that made me miss FNBS and everyone at FBC. But it was great to be around other Christians and other young adults since my only chance to make friends so far has been at Sciences Po. And I’m very glad that I get to make my own schedule this time around and get as involved in Emmanuel and the young adults group as I would have liked to have been last time.
Le Shopping
Thursday after class I needed to go by and see Mr. Dressner again to pay the rest of my rent for the month and see if he needed a copy of the insurance paperwork. It wasn’t too far to walk, and since that put me having to go down rue du Renne, I decided to save myself a trip and do some shopping after I took care of business. I can’t afford to shop a lot because of the exchange rate and everything being more expensive here, but there were a few things that I’ll be needing for the fall. Anyway, I know that area of town the best because it was close to where I went to school last time. I went in several stores, but I was mainly looking at Zara, Mango, Etam, and H&M because they are more in my price range and have stuff that I like. I know we have Zara in America but it is so much better in Europe. And, the great thing about Paris is that there are like some 25 Zaras. It doesn’t make any sense to me because a lot of them are within 1/2 a mile of another one. And yet they manage to do fine. I don’t understand, but I do like it, because when you find something you like, if they don’t have the right size, then chances are one of the 24 other stores has it. I found a great little trench coat for the fall since I neglected to plan for the milder months and brought mostly winter stuff.
Trench coats are everywhere right now. I’ve been trying to get a read on fashion for the fall and see what the big trends are going to be, but the weather has been in transition recently so fashion is kind of all over the place right now. Grey is very popular for this fall, as are jewel tones. Skinny jeans and leggings are still popular with ballet flats, kitten heels, or boots. I’ll let you know if I pick up on any incoming trends. Paris fashion is weird to me mainly because I’m from Florida. Someone from New York or something wouldn’t probably notice as many differences. They are definitely less casual, but at the same time very relaxed about fashion. It’s less structured and more...bohemian I guess is how you describe it. They don’t worry too much about colors matching, they don’t wear much makeup, and they don’t spend a long time on their hair, the air-dried look is perfectly acceptable. Of course when I say “they” I am making a gross generalization, but that’s the best job of stereotyping I can do.
And in case you were wondering the French use the english word for shopping, but it is pronounced french (kind of like le show-ping). It’s one of those English influences that the Acadamie Française tries so hard to keep out of the French language. (The French Academy is a group of people who are the official authority on the French language, and they try to get people to use words like “courrier electronique” instead of “e-mail”. Good luck with that...)
Trench coats are everywhere right now. I’ve been trying to get a read on fashion for the fall and see what the big trends are going to be, but the weather has been in transition recently so fashion is kind of all over the place right now. Grey is very popular for this fall, as are jewel tones. Skinny jeans and leggings are still popular with ballet flats, kitten heels, or boots. I’ll let you know if I pick up on any incoming trends. Paris fashion is weird to me mainly because I’m from Florida. Someone from New York or something wouldn’t probably notice as many differences. They are definitely less casual, but at the same time very relaxed about fashion. It’s less structured and more...bohemian I guess is how you describe it. They don’t worry too much about colors matching, they don’t wear much makeup, and they don’t spend a long time on their hair, the air-dried look is perfectly acceptable. Of course when I say “they” I am making a gross generalization, but that’s the best job of stereotyping I can do.
And in case you were wondering the French use the english word for shopping, but it is pronounced french (kind of like le show-ping). It’s one of those English influences that the Acadamie Française tries so hard to keep out of the French language. (The French Academy is a group of people who are the official authority on the French language, and they try to get people to use words like “courrier electronique” instead of “e-mail”. Good luck with that...)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
J'aime BHV
Sorry to leave you with such a cliffhanger. I know you have been biting your nails for a week...did Lyndsey have internet the next day?! And now the exciting conclusion to our story:
So Wednesday morning I woke up and, miracles of miracles, the green line had stopped going around and, after some messing around with passwords and connections...I had internet access. Woohoo! You really don’t realize how dependent you are on the internet until you have to go without it for a few days. I had been able to use it at school, but it is much nicer to have it at home so I can compute in comfort. Especially since all of you are just getting online and ready to talk and such when I am getting ready for bed. So having internet put me in a good mood for the next two days at least.
After class on Wednesday, I had lunch in the little cafe place on campus with some of the other students from my class. They have pretty cheap stuff that’s fairly good. Most of the sandwiches on baguettes are still a little too hard for my current chewing and biting level, but fortunately they also make some really good tuna on pita sandwiches that are nice and soft, so I’ve been enjoying those. The cafe isn’t very big and is already crowded and it’s just the international students on campus. I can’t imagine what it’s like when the rest of the student body is there!
I needed to look for some odds and ends for my apartment, like a power strip, storage boxes, coat hangers, etc. so I figured it was time to venture to one of my favorite stores in Paris. That’s right ladies and gentlemen...BHV. Bazar de l’Hotel de Ville, is a department store but it’s like a department store with every possible department. It’s like Dillards + Home Depot+Toys R Us+ Office Max + Barnes and Nobles + Bed Bath and Beyond. It has clothes, accessories, cosmetics, home decor, office supplies, crafts, home improvement, tools, garden supplies, lighting fixtures, dishes, kitchen gadgets, appliances, toys, electronics, books and movies, custom upholstery, paint, and furniture. Of course it can be pretty pricey, it carries some high-end brands, but you can find fairly reasonably priced items as well. I took my time and wandered through all the departments because they have so many interesting things to see. It's like when I go to Target and go through every department just because they have neat things, but this is 7 floors of cool stuff. I could probably spend a week there.
In the process, I found several things I needed, plus a really cute pencil bag with my favorite part of Le Petit Prince on it. If you don’t know, Le Petit Prince is one of the most well-known french “children's” books (although it’s not really written for kids). It’s been around for a long time and it is very beloved by the French so you see the Little Prince everywhere. My favorite part is at the beginning when the narrator meets the Little Prince and the Little Prince tells him to “draw me a sheep.” And the author does, but the first one has horns and the Little Prince says it’s a ram not a sheep, try again. And so he draws another one, and that one, says the Little Prince, looks old, so he draws another one and that one looks too sick. So he finally gets fed up and draws a box with air holes and tell the Little Prince that the sheep he wanted is inside, and that finally satisfies the Little Prince. Anyway, all that to say that they had a pencil bag with that part of the story on it. And I loved it and had to have it even though I don’t use a pencil bag. But I can learn, since it seems everyone uses them to hold their writing utensils here, even adults.
So that was Wednesday, and I returned home exhausted but happy from the BHV, and spent the rest of the evening reveling in my internet access.
So Wednesday morning I woke up and, miracles of miracles, the green line had stopped going around and, after some messing around with passwords and connections...I had internet access. Woohoo! You really don’t realize how dependent you are on the internet until you have to go without it for a few days. I had been able to use it at school, but it is much nicer to have it at home so I can compute in comfort. Especially since all of you are just getting online and ready to talk and such when I am getting ready for bed. So having internet put me in a good mood for the next two days at least.
After class on Wednesday, I had lunch in the little cafe place on campus with some of the other students from my class. They have pretty cheap stuff that’s fairly good. Most of the sandwiches on baguettes are still a little too hard for my current chewing and biting level, but fortunately they also make some really good tuna on pita sandwiches that are nice and soft, so I’ve been enjoying those. The cafe isn’t very big and is already crowded and it’s just the international students on campus. I can’t imagine what it’s like when the rest of the student body is there!
I needed to look for some odds and ends for my apartment, like a power strip, storage boxes, coat hangers, etc. so I figured it was time to venture to one of my favorite stores in Paris. That’s right ladies and gentlemen...BHV. Bazar de l’Hotel de Ville, is a department store but it’s like a department store with every possible department. It’s like Dillards + Home Depot+Toys R Us+ Office Max + Barnes and Nobles + Bed Bath and Beyond. It has clothes, accessories, cosmetics, home decor, office supplies, crafts, home improvement, tools, garden supplies, lighting fixtures, dishes, kitchen gadgets, appliances, toys, electronics, books and movies, custom upholstery, paint, and furniture. Of course it can be pretty pricey, it carries some high-end brands, but you can find fairly reasonably priced items as well. I took my time and wandered through all the departments because they have so many interesting things to see. It's like when I go to Target and go through every department just because they have neat things, but this is 7 floors of cool stuff. I could probably spend a week there.
In the process, I found several things I needed, plus a really cute pencil bag with my favorite part of Le Petit Prince on it. If you don’t know, Le Petit Prince is one of the most well-known french “children's” books (although it’s not really written for kids). It’s been around for a long time and it is very beloved by the French so you see the Little Prince everywhere. My favorite part is at the beginning when the narrator meets the Little Prince and the Little Prince tells him to “draw me a sheep.” And the author does, but the first one has horns and the Little Prince says it’s a ram not a sheep, try again. And so he draws another one, and that one, says the Little Prince, looks old, so he draws another one and that one looks too sick. So he finally gets fed up and draws a box with air holes and tell the Little Prince that the sheep he wanted is inside, and that finally satisfies the Little Prince. Anyway, all that to say that they had a pencil bag with that part of the story on it. And I loved it and had to have it even though I don’t use a pencil bag. But I can learn, since it seems everyone uses them to hold their writing utensils here, even adults.
So that was Wednesday, and I returned home exhausted but happy from the BHV, and spent the rest of the evening reveling in my internet access.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Spanish accents, Irishmen’s legs, and Hitler jokes
Tuesday was good. Class went by quickly, but after that I had errands I needed to do. I had to stop by an insurance agency not far from school to sign the forms for my renters insurance. However, since it was lunch time when class got out, and french businesses usually close for an hour or two at lunch, I had some time to kill once I found the place. And what’s better to do in Paris when you have free time but shop? So I wandered through a few stores and the famous “Au Bon Marche” and made mental notes of things that caught my eye. I then took care of the insurance which, also protects me in case of theft on the street, and headed back to school because I had signed up for a tour later.
It was semi-useful because, like most colleges, there are quite a few buildings, and they don’t always make sense in their layout and such. The girl giving our tour was nice and helpful but scared me when she talked about the french students coming. “Don’t be surprised when the french students arrive in October and they are very cold and don’t want to be your friend. That’s just the way they are, and it is worse at Sciences-Po because it is a prestigious school. The french students who are students here are some of the best in France...and they know it. I’m not saying you can’t become friends with them, but it’s hard. You have to be the one to break the ice, and if you invite them to coffee 3 times and they turn you down, keep inviting them, because eventually they come around.” So that wasn’t real encouraging to my hopes of making friends with french students, but at least I know what to expect.
That afternoon when I got home I had to call my landlady because, if you remember when my phone rang during class the day before, well that was her calling me because Mr. Dressner had called her to ask for the password for the internet for me. So I had to return the call which is always a little nerve-wracking because well, I don’t like talking to strangers on the phone anyway, but doing it in French is even harder. She was very nice, said she and her husband would like to meet me but they would be out of town until Sunday, but they hoped to visit next week if that was alright. (At least I think that’s what she said, sometimes the french pleasantries and propriety make it hard to understand what they are actually asking because it’s all idiomatic) But then she said “you have some questions about the internet I hear, I am going to put my husband on so he can explain that to you.” Fine I think...except that her husband has a spanish accent. French with a Parisian accent on the phone is one thing, french with any other accent on the phone is a different story. Plus he was talking about technology which is words that they don’t usually teach in french class, so it was a challenging conversation. I understood him fine, but I don’t think he believed that i really understood. He asked if I needed him to explain in English, but I insisted I got it. Basically he told me I could use Ethernet or wireless to connect to the internet and that he’d give me the password but he didn’t have it with him so he’d have to look it up and would call me back later in the evening with that information. I asked him if I was allowed to have mail sent to the apartment and he said yes but I needed to put my name on the mailbox so the postman didn’t get confused. I realize that conversation sounds a lot simpler than it really was so you’ll just have to trust me that it was exhausting.
So I had a few minutes before the social activity of the night, and I thought I’d try to connect to the internet with the Ethernet cord. It wasn’t working and he had told me that if it didn’t work I should unplug and replug in the power. So I did that, however, on the little screen of the box where there was supposed to be a clock if the internet is working, there was only a little green line going around and around. Not a good sign, but I had to get to the metro stop to meet everyone for a walk around Montmartre. Conveniently I live just south of Montmartre so it was about a 1 minute walk to meet up with everyone. We all traipsed up the hill, and I learned that I live just down the street from Amelie’s cafe. (If you haven’t seen the movie Amelie, it’s one of the few French films that has become real popular in the U.S. It’s really cute and you can rent it from blockbuster, but keep in mind that like ALL french movies, there are a few scenes of an inappropriate nature. Anyway the cafe where Amelie works in the movie is a real cafe, and the last time I was here I had coffee there with my group, but I didn’t know where it was in location to anything else so I hadn’t realized that I lived so close.) We walked to the top where Sacre Coeur is. It was evening mass which was interesting because nuns coming in all wore regular fleece zip-ups and coats over their habits. Out on the steps some musicians were performing for the crowd of tourists. They were playing everything from U2 to mexican music and a lot of things in between.
From there we walked down to a cluster of cafes and everyone split up into groups to have coffee/dinner/drinks. I ended up in a large group consisting of 3 other Americans, 3 irish girls, Erin from New Zealand, 1 German, 1 Japanese and we were later joined by another guy from New Zealand and one from Brazil. It was a lot of fun just hanging out and chatting, although we looked like tourists because we were talking loudly in english and laughing a lot. Erin is one of the funniest people I’ve met here because she’s short and loud and doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She refers to herself as “the little hobbit” because she’s so short and she’s from NZ where they filmed the Lord of the Rings. Conversations are never dull when she’s there. Anyway, we talked about all sorts of things, from why people in Ireland don’t wear shorts (“Irishmen’s legs really shouldn’t be shown. They’re not much to look at.” said the Irish girls), to whether Germans are offended by Nazi jokes (not the young ones at least, they even make a few themselves) and why law school is like being in Harry Potter (the random latin phrases you shout out sound a lot like the incantations). And in case you were wondering, to say you live out in the boonies, in New Zealand, you say you live out in the whomps.
When I got home, I had received a text message from the landlady with the internet password, so I thought I’d give it a try. No luck, it still wasn’t connecting from when i had unplugged it before i left. So i break out the user manual (in french of course) and it says that if the little green line is going around and around you may need to do a hard reboot. So I find how to reboot and it’s really weird- unplug and replug the power cord 4 times. So i do that and it says, after that it should restart and synchronize itself. When the green line is going around it is trying to connect and synchronize and once it is connected the time will reappear. So I do what it says but the green line just keeps going around and around. I read on a little further in the problem solving part and it says that if you hard reboot and the line doesn’t stop going around you may need to call for service, (oh brother, i’m thinking) but, that before you call, it’s a good idea to give it several hours to, get this, several DAYS to synchronize. Days?! You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought I read it wrong. I pull out my dictionary to make sure that I didn’t misunderstand. Nope, wait hours to days for it to connect before calling for assistance. What kind of instruction is that?! So I figure there’s nothing I can do but pray really hard that it is closer to the several hours end of the spectrum, and go to bed. So that’s exactly what I did.
It was semi-useful because, like most colleges, there are quite a few buildings, and they don’t always make sense in their layout and such. The girl giving our tour was nice and helpful but scared me when she talked about the french students coming. “Don’t be surprised when the french students arrive in October and they are very cold and don’t want to be your friend. That’s just the way they are, and it is worse at Sciences-Po because it is a prestigious school. The french students who are students here are some of the best in France...and they know it. I’m not saying you can’t become friends with them, but it’s hard. You have to be the one to break the ice, and if you invite them to coffee 3 times and they turn you down, keep inviting them, because eventually they come around.” So that wasn’t real encouraging to my hopes of making friends with french students, but at least I know what to expect.
That afternoon when I got home I had to call my landlady because, if you remember when my phone rang during class the day before, well that was her calling me because Mr. Dressner had called her to ask for the password for the internet for me. So I had to return the call which is always a little nerve-wracking because well, I don’t like talking to strangers on the phone anyway, but doing it in French is even harder. She was very nice, said she and her husband would like to meet me but they would be out of town until Sunday, but they hoped to visit next week if that was alright. (At least I think that’s what she said, sometimes the french pleasantries and propriety make it hard to understand what they are actually asking because it’s all idiomatic) But then she said “you have some questions about the internet I hear, I am going to put my husband on so he can explain that to you.” Fine I think...except that her husband has a spanish accent. French with a Parisian accent on the phone is one thing, french with any other accent on the phone is a different story. Plus he was talking about technology which is words that they don’t usually teach in french class, so it was a challenging conversation. I understood him fine, but I don’t think he believed that i really understood. He asked if I needed him to explain in English, but I insisted I got it. Basically he told me I could use Ethernet or wireless to connect to the internet and that he’d give me the password but he didn’t have it with him so he’d have to look it up and would call me back later in the evening with that information. I asked him if I was allowed to have mail sent to the apartment and he said yes but I needed to put my name on the mailbox so the postman didn’t get confused. I realize that conversation sounds a lot simpler than it really was so you’ll just have to trust me that it was exhausting.
So I had a few minutes before the social activity of the night, and I thought I’d try to connect to the internet with the Ethernet cord. It wasn’t working and he had told me that if it didn’t work I should unplug and replug in the power. So I did that, however, on the little screen of the box where there was supposed to be a clock if the internet is working, there was only a little green line going around and around. Not a good sign, but I had to get to the metro stop to meet everyone for a walk around Montmartre. Conveniently I live just south of Montmartre so it was about a 1 minute walk to meet up with everyone. We all traipsed up the hill, and I learned that I live just down the street from Amelie’s cafe. (If you haven’t seen the movie Amelie, it’s one of the few French films that has become real popular in the U.S. It’s really cute and you can rent it from blockbuster, but keep in mind that like ALL french movies, there are a few scenes of an inappropriate nature. Anyway the cafe where Amelie works in the movie is a real cafe, and the last time I was here I had coffee there with my group, but I didn’t know where it was in location to anything else so I hadn’t realized that I lived so close.) We walked to the top where Sacre Coeur is. It was evening mass which was interesting because nuns coming in all wore regular fleece zip-ups and coats over their habits. Out on the steps some musicians were performing for the crowd of tourists. They were playing everything from U2 to mexican music and a lot of things in between.
From there we walked down to a cluster of cafes and everyone split up into groups to have coffee/dinner/drinks. I ended up in a large group consisting of 3 other Americans, 3 irish girls, Erin from New Zealand, 1 German, 1 Japanese and we were later joined by another guy from New Zealand and one from Brazil. It was a lot of fun just hanging out and chatting, although we looked like tourists because we were talking loudly in english and laughing a lot. Erin is one of the funniest people I’ve met here because she’s short and loud and doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. She refers to herself as “the little hobbit” because she’s so short and she’s from NZ where they filmed the Lord of the Rings. Conversations are never dull when she’s there. Anyway, we talked about all sorts of things, from why people in Ireland don’t wear shorts (“Irishmen’s legs really shouldn’t be shown. They’re not much to look at.” said the Irish girls), to whether Germans are offended by Nazi jokes (not the young ones at least, they even make a few themselves) and why law school is like being in Harry Potter (the random latin phrases you shout out sound a lot like the incantations). And in case you were wondering, to say you live out in the boonies, in New Zealand, you say you live out in the whomps.
When I got home, I had received a text message from the landlady with the internet password, so I thought I’d give it a try. No luck, it still wasn’t connecting from when i had unplugged it before i left. So i break out the user manual (in french of course) and it says that if the little green line is going around and around you may need to do a hard reboot. So I find how to reboot and it’s really weird- unplug and replug the power cord 4 times. So i do that and it says, after that it should restart and synchronize itself. When the green line is going around it is trying to connect and synchronize and once it is connected the time will reappear. So I do what it says but the green line just keeps going around and around. I read on a little further in the problem solving part and it says that if you hard reboot and the line doesn’t stop going around you may need to call for service, (oh brother, i’m thinking) but, that before you call, it’s a good idea to give it several hours to, get this, several DAYS to synchronize. Days?! You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought I read it wrong. I pull out my dictionary to make sure that I didn’t misunderstand. Nope, wait hours to days for it to connect before calling for assistance. What kind of instruction is that?! So I figure there’s nothing I can do but pray really hard that it is closer to the several hours end of the spectrum, and go to bed. So that’s exactly what I did.
La Rentree
Monday was a big day in France. “La Rentrée”, the French equivalent of “Back-to-school”. It’s a big deal around here, even if you don’t have school aged children. The French education system is national, not like the state based education system in the U.S., so everyone from l’école maternelle (preschool) up to lycée (high school) goes back to school on the same day. Only college students, comme moi, wait until October to begin class. August is the month most of the French go on vacation and they all leave Paris, so for the last week or so everyone has been coming back in preparation for the first day of school. The stores are stocked up on school supplies and have sales on clothes and backpacks and the media is saturated with stories about education and the changes this year, etc. Education is serious business in France, but more on that later.
So aside from Monday being la rentrée for all the kids in France, it was also in a sense la rentrée for me as well because it was our first day of “orientation”. I was a little nervous, but mostly just excited to be around other students and hopefully make some friends. I’m pretty independent so I don’t mind being on my own. But after 5 days in the city with no one to hang out with and little personal contact, I was starting to crave some social interaction. There was a breakfast for all the international students at 8:30 and that is when I was under the impression the “orientation” program began. So I get to the main building of the school and the common areas are just jam packed with international students, and no one really knows what’s going on or what we’re supposed to do. So I start a conversation with an American girl next to me so that I have someone to hang out with. Her name was Julie from Boston i think, and it was really nice to have another American who also had no clue what was going on to talk with. We all thought that there was going to be some sort of official welcome and speech and directions of some sort, but that was not the case. Everyone just stood around drinking coffee and being confused until it was time for the first rotation of french classes to start. Everyone is divided into classes based on French proficiency on a written test we had to mail in and half of the classes meet in the morning and half meet in the afternoons. My class is from 9:30-12:30 Monday through Friday. I was really surprised by the number of students who are here and speak little or no French. Of course, Sciences-Po recently started offering classes in English so technically you only have to prove proficiency in whichever language you want to take your classes in.
All the french class groups are named after Metro stops. Mine is Republique. Anyway so we get to class and are all sitting down and the teacher is starting her introduction when...my cell phone starts ringing because I hadn’t figured how to put it on silent yet and I didn’t think I needed to because who is going to call me on it?! So I got a stern “pas de portables s’il vous plait” but the teacher didn’t make a big deal since we had just sat down and it was the first day. So I was surprised but the french teacher seemed really nice. She did explain though that this class is not a model for what our french classes will be like during the semester. This one is much more informal and based on speaking, where usually it is mostly grammar and writing. I don’t know if I just stink at written french or what, because obviously they placed me in this level, but it isn’t as much of a challenge to me as it seems to be for most of the others in the class, but it is still a good review and I like all the students. We started off with the typical introductions so everyone could build up their courage speaking. My particular class is comprised of 5 Americans, 2 Germans, 1 Turk, 1 New Zealander, 1 Dutch, 1 Danish, 1 Czech, 1 Japanese, and 1 Taiwanese.
It has been really easy to make friends because everyone is in the same situation, thrown into a foreign country with no, or only a few, people that they know, so everyone is pretty accepting and open. Of course people tend to lean towards people who share the same cultural or lingual background. The two default languages are french and english, but not everyone speaks both, and not everyone speaks them at the same level, so when you meet someone you often have to ask what language they’d rather speak. For the most part it is english, but there are some who are more comfortable in french. Conversations can get crazy when you have a mixed group because they often cover about 4 or 5 languages. You’ll be speaking english half the time and then people will randomly switch into french, and then if there are more than one person from the same country they’ll start talking to each other in their native language. It’s really awesome, but sometimes it gets confusing because I forget which language I am supposed to be speaking. I’ll forget and start speaking french to an American and they look at me weird until I realize it. But there are seriously people from all over the world, and it is really cool to meet them and get to learn about their cultures and such. It’s also nice to have other Americans to hang out with, although for some reason almost everyone that I’ve met is from the northeast or midwest, practically no one from the south.
Anyway, three hours of french class passed fairly quickly. The Welcome Program has all these social activities planned, but you are supposed to sign up for most of them because there are limits on how many can they can accommodate and some of them cost extra, but to sign up you had to stand in three different lines depending on the kind of activity and there were hundreds of students trying to do this all at once. Anyway it was a really bad system but we had to do it. However the lines didn’t reopen til the afternoon so some of the other students from class decided to go grab lunch in the meantime. We got sandwiches from a little bakery and then we needed a place to eat. Erin, the girl from New Zealand, lives around the corner from the school so she suggested we go eat in her courtyard. We had just sat down, about five of us, when her concierge appears. (Most apartment buildings have a concierge who is like the superintendent/ caretaker person who takes out the trash, signs for deliveries, etc. ) Anyway, he concierge appears and doesn’t look happy. Erin goes over to introduce herself because the concierge had refused to answer the door when she and her landlady went to make the introductions. But the concierge is angry and I can hear her indignantly demanding what we are doing there. Erin tried to explain that she lived there and we were just around the corner from school. “Well, if you want to eat with your friends you can take them to your apartment! One eats in a restaurant, not a courtyard!” We sheepishly left and went back to school.
There we proceeded to wait in line for a long time to sign up for activities. It wasn’t too boring because it gave us time to get to know each other and to discuss the complications of too many kinds of english.
Erin: and do you know what “lollies” is?
Me: do i know what what is?
Erin: Lollies. Like fizzies.
Brian: fuzzy? You mean fleece?
Erin: What?
Brian: We call them sweatshirts.
Erin: Huh?
Brian: You know, those things (points to kid in sweatshirt)
Erin: What are you talking about?
Brian: What are you talking about?
Erin: Lollies, sweeties
Brian: You call sweatshirts lollies?
Erin: Nooo, lollies! You know, that little kids eat!
During this conversation I was laughing hysterically because they were speaking the same language and had no idea what they were talking about. Erin was trying to explain that in New Zealand they use the term lollies to refer to any kind of candy, but the combination of different word usage and her accent (which is awesome, but should not be confused with an Australian accent because as I’ve been told numerous times “THEY’RE NOT THE SAME THING!”), anyway Brian who is from Seattle was having a hard time understanding. This scene repeats itself at least once a day with someone from another country because sometimes language causes more problems than it solves, but it is always entertaining.
The activity that evening was a picnic on the Seine. I was on my way out of the school and walking through the entryway when I hear someone say my name I think. But then I’m like, I only know about 10 people so who can it be. But there is a guy sitting on the bench and when I look his way he waves. I smile and say hey, but I have no idea who he is or why he knows who I am. He starts to have a conversation with me and so I just go ahead and ask him how I know him. He smiles and then does the Gator chomp. It was Ryan, the one other UF student at Sciences-Po this semester, who I’d never actually met before. We had messaged on facebook a bit months ago when we were both trying to figure out the paperwork, but just based on that I never would have been able to pick him out of a crowd. But it was nice to finally meet my fellow Gator at Sciences-Po. So at least I’ll have one other person to share my love of Orange and Blue.
So I ran home to ditch my heavy laptop bag and change into a warmer sweater for the evening and then met back at the school. A lot of students came and we all walked to the Seine and then sat down and ate on a bridge. I should mention that all the welcome activities are led my welcome programme leaders who are Science-Po students. I feel like I am back in high school with Link Crew leaders. They wear matching bright T-shirts so you can find them and try to be energetic and make sure we don’t get lost. I never would have imagined a french university would do it the same way. The picnic was nice, evening falling on the Seine and meeting more new people. We stayed until it got dark and we all got cold and then I headed home to collapse into bed. It was a long day, but lots of fun to be around other international students.
So aside from Monday being la rentrée for all the kids in France, it was also in a sense la rentrée for me as well because it was our first day of “orientation”. I was a little nervous, but mostly just excited to be around other students and hopefully make some friends. I’m pretty independent so I don’t mind being on my own. But after 5 days in the city with no one to hang out with and little personal contact, I was starting to crave some social interaction. There was a breakfast for all the international students at 8:30 and that is when I was under the impression the “orientation” program began. So I get to the main building of the school and the common areas are just jam packed with international students, and no one really knows what’s going on or what we’re supposed to do. So I start a conversation with an American girl next to me so that I have someone to hang out with. Her name was Julie from Boston i think, and it was really nice to have another American who also had no clue what was going on to talk with. We all thought that there was going to be some sort of official welcome and speech and directions of some sort, but that was not the case. Everyone just stood around drinking coffee and being confused until it was time for the first rotation of french classes to start. Everyone is divided into classes based on French proficiency on a written test we had to mail in and half of the classes meet in the morning and half meet in the afternoons. My class is from 9:30-12:30 Monday through Friday. I was really surprised by the number of students who are here and speak little or no French. Of course, Sciences-Po recently started offering classes in English so technically you only have to prove proficiency in whichever language you want to take your classes in.
All the french class groups are named after Metro stops. Mine is Republique. Anyway so we get to class and are all sitting down and the teacher is starting her introduction when...my cell phone starts ringing because I hadn’t figured how to put it on silent yet and I didn’t think I needed to because who is going to call me on it?! So I got a stern “pas de portables s’il vous plait” but the teacher didn’t make a big deal since we had just sat down and it was the first day. So I was surprised but the french teacher seemed really nice. She did explain though that this class is not a model for what our french classes will be like during the semester. This one is much more informal and based on speaking, where usually it is mostly grammar and writing. I don’t know if I just stink at written french or what, because obviously they placed me in this level, but it isn’t as much of a challenge to me as it seems to be for most of the others in the class, but it is still a good review and I like all the students. We started off with the typical introductions so everyone could build up their courage speaking. My particular class is comprised of 5 Americans, 2 Germans, 1 Turk, 1 New Zealander, 1 Dutch, 1 Danish, 1 Czech, 1 Japanese, and 1 Taiwanese.
It has been really easy to make friends because everyone is in the same situation, thrown into a foreign country with no, or only a few, people that they know, so everyone is pretty accepting and open. Of course people tend to lean towards people who share the same cultural or lingual background. The two default languages are french and english, but not everyone speaks both, and not everyone speaks them at the same level, so when you meet someone you often have to ask what language they’d rather speak. For the most part it is english, but there are some who are more comfortable in french. Conversations can get crazy when you have a mixed group because they often cover about 4 or 5 languages. You’ll be speaking english half the time and then people will randomly switch into french, and then if there are more than one person from the same country they’ll start talking to each other in their native language. It’s really awesome, but sometimes it gets confusing because I forget which language I am supposed to be speaking. I’ll forget and start speaking french to an American and they look at me weird until I realize it. But there are seriously people from all over the world, and it is really cool to meet them and get to learn about their cultures and such. It’s also nice to have other Americans to hang out with, although for some reason almost everyone that I’ve met is from the northeast or midwest, practically no one from the south.
Anyway, three hours of french class passed fairly quickly. The Welcome Program has all these social activities planned, but you are supposed to sign up for most of them because there are limits on how many can they can accommodate and some of them cost extra, but to sign up you had to stand in three different lines depending on the kind of activity and there were hundreds of students trying to do this all at once. Anyway it was a really bad system but we had to do it. However the lines didn’t reopen til the afternoon so some of the other students from class decided to go grab lunch in the meantime. We got sandwiches from a little bakery and then we needed a place to eat. Erin, the girl from New Zealand, lives around the corner from the school so she suggested we go eat in her courtyard. We had just sat down, about five of us, when her concierge appears. (Most apartment buildings have a concierge who is like the superintendent/ caretaker person who takes out the trash, signs for deliveries, etc. ) Anyway, he concierge appears and doesn’t look happy. Erin goes over to introduce herself because the concierge had refused to answer the door when she and her landlady went to make the introductions. But the concierge is angry and I can hear her indignantly demanding what we are doing there. Erin tried to explain that she lived there and we were just around the corner from school. “Well, if you want to eat with your friends you can take them to your apartment! One eats in a restaurant, not a courtyard!” We sheepishly left and went back to school.
There we proceeded to wait in line for a long time to sign up for activities. It wasn’t too boring because it gave us time to get to know each other and to discuss the complications of too many kinds of english.
Erin: and do you know what “lollies” is?
Me: do i know what what is?
Erin: Lollies. Like fizzies.
Brian: fuzzy? You mean fleece?
Erin: What?
Brian: We call them sweatshirts.
Erin: Huh?
Brian: You know, those things (points to kid in sweatshirt)
Erin: What are you talking about?
Brian: What are you talking about?
Erin: Lollies, sweeties
Brian: You call sweatshirts lollies?
Erin: Nooo, lollies! You know, that little kids eat!
During this conversation I was laughing hysterically because they were speaking the same language and had no idea what they were talking about. Erin was trying to explain that in New Zealand they use the term lollies to refer to any kind of candy, but the combination of different word usage and her accent (which is awesome, but should not be confused with an Australian accent because as I’ve been told numerous times “THEY’RE NOT THE SAME THING!”), anyway Brian who is from Seattle was having a hard time understanding. This scene repeats itself at least once a day with someone from another country because sometimes language causes more problems than it solves, but it is always entertaining.
The activity that evening was a picnic on the Seine. I was on my way out of the school and walking through the entryway when I hear someone say my name I think. But then I’m like, I only know about 10 people so who can it be. But there is a guy sitting on the bench and when I look his way he waves. I smile and say hey, but I have no idea who he is or why he knows who I am. He starts to have a conversation with me and so I just go ahead and ask him how I know him. He smiles and then does the Gator chomp. It was Ryan, the one other UF student at Sciences-Po this semester, who I’d never actually met before. We had messaged on facebook a bit months ago when we were both trying to figure out the paperwork, but just based on that I never would have been able to pick him out of a crowd. But it was nice to finally meet my fellow Gator at Sciences-Po. So at least I’ll have one other person to share my love of Orange and Blue.
So I ran home to ditch my heavy laptop bag and change into a warmer sweater for the evening and then met back at the school. A lot of students came and we all walked to the Seine and then sat down and ate on a bridge. I should mention that all the welcome activities are led my welcome programme leaders who are Science-Po students. I feel like I am back in high school with Link Crew leaders. They wear matching bright T-shirts so you can find them and try to be energetic and make sure we don’t get lost. I never would have imagined a french university would do it the same way. The picnic was nice, evening falling on the Seine and meeting more new people. We stayed until it got dark and we all got cold and then I headed home to collapse into bed. It was a long day, but lots of fun to be around other international students.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
To catch up...
Ok so it’s the weekend again here now, so maybe I’ll have a chance to catch you up on this past week because it’s been long. I can’t believe it’s only been a little over a week since I arrived because so much has happened. So lets back up so I can tell you things I forgot to mention.
Well first of all I forgot to tell you that I was in Paris on the anniversary of Princess Diana’s death (although if you looked at my pictures you already know) so I went down to the Liberty Flame monument that is the unofficial memorial to Diana. The monument had existed there long before the accident, but because it is situated right above the tunnel, people adopted it as a monument to her. There were lots of people down there, and news crews. Flowers, candles, and messages in every imaginable language around. Hard to believe it’s already been 10 years.
So I think we are caught up to last weekend. I figured I needed to make good use out of my time off since orientation started the next day. I needed to buy my monthly transportation pass for the public transport system since it’s the beginning of September. So I go to the closest metro stop to buy my Carte d’Orange, only there isn’t a ticket window, only an information window, and the lady tells me that I can only buy one from the automatic ticket machine. That’s all well and good except that the machine only takes coins and bank cards. A monthly pass is a little less than 55 euros, so I certainly don’t have that much in coins, and American credit cards are not the same thing as a french bank card so you can’t just go sticking them into any card machine and expect them to work. What’s more, you have to have an identity photo on your card, and to get one of those you have to go in one of those automatic photo booths. They used to be in almost every stop, but evidently they’ve taken a lot of them out, so i ask the lady where I can find one and she’s not sure but suggests another stop. So I have to walk all the way down to Opera which is a larger terminal, and I go in the first photo booth and there is a coin stuck in the slot. And I’m thinking I’m in trouble cause I don’t want to go traipsing all over the city looking for another photo booth and I can’t use my card without a picture because if they catch you you have to pay a 30 euro fine on the spot or they can take you to jail immediately. But as it turned out there was another booth at the other end of the stop and I got the picture I needed, although I look scared in it. The reason being is that for french I.D. photos to be legitimate you can’t smile in them. I’m not even kidding. On the outside of the photo booth there’s a picture of this serious lady and a big sign saying “you musn’t laugh in your I.D. photos”. Someone should tell them that that really isn’t helping the stereotype of the snotty French. Of course this is the home of the Mona Lisa, so maybe they are just following her example. Thus, I was trying to have the recommended "neutral" face, but instead I look slightly terrified. Oh well, if I'm getting in trouble with the metro police that's probably the face I'll have anyway.
After all that, I thought maybe I could get some errands done, but I guess I had forgotten more about French life than I thought because I failed to remember that most stores aren’t open on Sunday. It’s kind of funny because France is a very secular nation, so before you go thinking that it’s a religious thing, it’s really just a fewer hours of work thing. The ones that are open are only open for a few hours, usually in the morning. So since the stores I needed were all closed I ended up just wandering about the city. I strolled back to my old neighborhood to check out my former street and such and it was nice to reminisce. I used to live in the Marais which is one of the oldest sections of the city and home to the Jewish neighborhood and is now a trendy place for shops and galleries and bars. I loved living there because of the history and all. My apartment on rue Vieille du Temple was built in the 1700s and still had the original floors and windows. It was always so crazy to me that my apartment was as old as the U.S.A. I was once talking to a young french person about America and he made some comment about "I think America is a young country with a very bright future." I remember thinking that it was such a werid statement because America seemed so old to me. But when you realize how long the French have existed, in one form or another, and how many hundreds of years of national history they have, America does seem pretty young.
I should probably explain for those of you who don’t know, I spent a semester doing UF’s Honors in Paris study abroad program back in Spring 2005 when I was a freshman. It was great, especially for a first experience living abroad, because they took care of everything for you. Housing, tours, excursions, classes, etc. etc. And you had a built in support group because all the other students were UF students and the professors were UF professors. But as good as it was, I’m looking forward to being more autonomous this second time around, and being more immersed in French life. I don't think I would have been ready for an exchange program the first time around, but I'm older and probably wiser now, and so far things are going fine.
Well first of all I forgot to tell you that I was in Paris on the anniversary of Princess Diana’s death (although if you looked at my pictures you already know) so I went down to the Liberty Flame monument that is the unofficial memorial to Diana. The monument had existed there long before the accident, but because it is situated right above the tunnel, people adopted it as a monument to her. There were lots of people down there, and news crews. Flowers, candles, and messages in every imaginable language around. Hard to believe it’s already been 10 years.
So I think we are caught up to last weekend. I figured I needed to make good use out of my time off since orientation started the next day. I needed to buy my monthly transportation pass for the public transport system since it’s the beginning of September. So I go to the closest metro stop to buy my Carte d’Orange, only there isn’t a ticket window, only an information window, and the lady tells me that I can only buy one from the automatic ticket machine. That’s all well and good except that the machine only takes coins and bank cards. A monthly pass is a little less than 55 euros, so I certainly don’t have that much in coins, and American credit cards are not the same thing as a french bank card so you can’t just go sticking them into any card machine and expect them to work. What’s more, you have to have an identity photo on your card, and to get one of those you have to go in one of those automatic photo booths. They used to be in almost every stop, but evidently they’ve taken a lot of them out, so i ask the lady where I can find one and she’s not sure but suggests another stop. So I have to walk all the way down to Opera which is a larger terminal, and I go in the first photo booth and there is a coin stuck in the slot. And I’m thinking I’m in trouble cause I don’t want to go traipsing all over the city looking for another photo booth and I can’t use my card without a picture because if they catch you you have to pay a 30 euro fine on the spot or they can take you to jail immediately. But as it turned out there was another booth at the other end of the stop and I got the picture I needed, although I look scared in it. The reason being is that for french I.D. photos to be legitimate you can’t smile in them. I’m not even kidding. On the outside of the photo booth there’s a picture of this serious lady and a big sign saying “you musn’t laugh in your I.D. photos”. Someone should tell them that that really isn’t helping the stereotype of the snotty French. Of course this is the home of the Mona Lisa, so maybe they are just following her example. Thus, I was trying to have the recommended "neutral" face, but instead I look slightly terrified. Oh well, if I'm getting in trouble with the metro police that's probably the face I'll have anyway.
After all that, I thought maybe I could get some errands done, but I guess I had forgotten more about French life than I thought because I failed to remember that most stores aren’t open on Sunday. It’s kind of funny because France is a very secular nation, so before you go thinking that it’s a religious thing, it’s really just a fewer hours of work thing. The ones that are open are only open for a few hours, usually in the morning. So since the stores I needed were all closed I ended up just wandering about the city. I strolled back to my old neighborhood to check out my former street and such and it was nice to reminisce. I used to live in the Marais which is one of the oldest sections of the city and home to the Jewish neighborhood and is now a trendy place for shops and galleries and bars. I loved living there because of the history and all. My apartment on rue Vieille du Temple was built in the 1700s and still had the original floors and windows. It was always so crazy to me that my apartment was as old as the U.S.A. I was once talking to a young french person about America and he made some comment about "I think America is a young country with a very bright future." I remember thinking that it was such a werid statement because America seemed so old to me. But when you realize how long the French have existed, in one form or another, and how many hundreds of years of national history they have, America does seem pretty young.
I should probably explain for those of you who don’t know, I spent a semester doing UF’s Honors in Paris study abroad program back in Spring 2005 when I was a freshman. It was great, especially for a first experience living abroad, because they took care of everything for you. Housing, tours, excursions, classes, etc. etc. And you had a built in support group because all the other students were UF students and the professors were UF professors. But as good as it was, I’m looking forward to being more autonomous this second time around, and being more immersed in French life. I don't think I would have been ready for an exchange program the first time around, but I'm older and probably wiser now, and so far things are going fine.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
The Dangers of Open Windows
So let’s see where I left off last time. Sorry it’s been a while since the last update. I don’t have the internet quite figured out in my apartment so I am limited to using it at school, and I haven’t had much free time in the last few days to do anything significant online other than check my facebook and email quickly. So Saturday morning I went in to Mr. Dressner’s office and signed the paperwork and paid the security deposit and picked up the keys and code to my apartment. Then I went back to the hotel, got my luggage and took a taxi to my new place. The taxi driver laughed a little when he lifted my suitcases. He said they were heavy. I said, no kidding, when you pack for 6 months it weighs a lot. When we got to my building he said, I hope you have an elevator. I told him not to worry, I am very strong. But at the same time I was thinking that 6 flights of stairs was not going to be a lot of fun with suitcases that weighed as much as mine.
The problem is that, not only is it 6 flights of stairs, but they aren’t stairs like you are probably imagining right now, they aren’t typical American stairs. Stairs in Parisian apartment buildings are quasi-spiral stairs, and since most buildings date back at least a hundred years, the stairs are equally as old. They are steep, narrow and unlevel. So imagine how much trouble getting two large heavy suitcases up 6 flights of regular stairs and multiply that by like, 50, and you can start to get an idea of what I had to go through. I had forgotten that the last time I was in Paris, I had a roommate and we helped each other up the stairs with our bags which was much easier than going it alone. But anyway, I took all my carry-on luggage up first. That was, in and of itself tiring, since I get winded simply walking up that many stairs. So then the real fun began. Trying to get the big boys up the stairs. I thought the best idea was to move them up one floor at a time. That worked, but boy was it slow going. I’m lifting these very heavy and cumbersome bags and trying to go up the uneven stairs very quickly so I don’t have to hold the bag longer than necessary. Considering how many flights I had to climb I think it is pretty impressive that I only almost died two or three times. My heart was already pounding so hard from exertion that I don’t think it could speed up any more when my foot slipped off one of the narrow stairs and I came very close to ending up at the bottom with my giant suitcase on top of me. By the time I made it to the 7th floor I was shaking and about to throw up. Altitude sickness I think. The air is much thinner this high up. It was either that or possibly my lack of cardio stamina...
In the end, after much struggling and sweating, I arrived “chez moi”. I really like my little flat. It’s not large by American standards, but then, almost nothing in Paris is large by American standards. We Americans are very spoiled because we have so much land to spread out on. Europeans are much more used to close quarters. On a side note, I apologize if my sentences or wording is weird sometimes. I am thinking in french so much of the time that when I am writing in english I sometimes end up translating something from how the french would say it, and that usually isn’t the same way I normally would. So back to the apartment. Anyway it’s not big, but it is much nicer than a studio, which is mostly what is available for individual students. It’s plenty of space for me and has basically everything that I need to be comfortable (assuming that I can get the internet figured out). There are a few things that I need, like regular sized bowls and glasses, some coat hangers, etc. but those are easy enough to come by at a Monoprix or BHV, one of the most amazing stores ever that I will have to tell you about in detail later.
Saturday afternoon I spent getting unpacked and organized. I basically dumped everything into a pile in the floor and went from there. I had whittled the pile down to just a few odds and ends and decided I deserved a break since I was exhausted. Now I had opened up all the windows to air the place out because it smelled a little like fresh paint, and because it was a sunny afternoon and a bit warm. I lay down to take a brief rest with the afternoon sun slanting in and the breeze blowing through. I had been laying there for a few minutes and I went to roll over, and as I did I opened my eyes a bit. It took a minute to register what I was seeing, because there in the middle of my room, sniffing the remaining items in the pile, was a big black cat. When I moved he looked up, with his huge green eyes, but he didn’t leave, just continued to check everything out. I got up to get my camera because it was so ridiculous I wanted to show you, but as soon as I did he jumped easily out the window and back onto the roof where I suppose he came from. So that is when I learned not to leave your windows open when you are sleeping if you live on the top floor of the building. It'll take me a few posts to get you all up to date, but this is so long I figure I better stop before you all fall asleep. A bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
The problem is that, not only is it 6 flights of stairs, but they aren’t stairs like you are probably imagining right now, they aren’t typical American stairs. Stairs in Parisian apartment buildings are quasi-spiral stairs, and since most buildings date back at least a hundred years, the stairs are equally as old. They are steep, narrow and unlevel. So imagine how much trouble getting two large heavy suitcases up 6 flights of regular stairs and multiply that by like, 50, and you can start to get an idea of what I had to go through. I had forgotten that the last time I was in Paris, I had a roommate and we helped each other up the stairs with our bags which was much easier than going it alone. But anyway, I took all my carry-on luggage up first. That was, in and of itself tiring, since I get winded simply walking up that many stairs. So then the real fun began. Trying to get the big boys up the stairs. I thought the best idea was to move them up one floor at a time. That worked, but boy was it slow going. I’m lifting these very heavy and cumbersome bags and trying to go up the uneven stairs very quickly so I don’t have to hold the bag longer than necessary. Considering how many flights I had to climb I think it is pretty impressive that I only almost died two or three times. My heart was already pounding so hard from exertion that I don’t think it could speed up any more when my foot slipped off one of the narrow stairs and I came very close to ending up at the bottom with my giant suitcase on top of me. By the time I made it to the 7th floor I was shaking and about to throw up. Altitude sickness I think. The air is much thinner this high up. It was either that or possibly my lack of cardio stamina...
In the end, after much struggling and sweating, I arrived “chez moi”. I really like my little flat. It’s not large by American standards, but then, almost nothing in Paris is large by American standards. We Americans are very spoiled because we have so much land to spread out on. Europeans are much more used to close quarters. On a side note, I apologize if my sentences or wording is weird sometimes. I am thinking in french so much of the time that when I am writing in english I sometimes end up translating something from how the french would say it, and that usually isn’t the same way I normally would. So back to the apartment. Anyway it’s not big, but it is much nicer than a studio, which is mostly what is available for individual students. It’s plenty of space for me and has basically everything that I need to be comfortable (assuming that I can get the internet figured out). There are a few things that I need, like regular sized bowls and glasses, some coat hangers, etc. but those are easy enough to come by at a Monoprix or BHV, one of the most amazing stores ever that I will have to tell you about in detail later.
Saturday afternoon I spent getting unpacked and organized. I basically dumped everything into a pile in the floor and went from there. I had whittled the pile down to just a few odds and ends and decided I deserved a break since I was exhausted. Now I had opened up all the windows to air the place out because it smelled a little like fresh paint, and because it was a sunny afternoon and a bit warm. I lay down to take a brief rest with the afternoon sun slanting in and the breeze blowing through. I had been laying there for a few minutes and I went to roll over, and as I did I opened my eyes a bit. It took a minute to register what I was seeing, because there in the middle of my room, sniffing the remaining items in the pile, was a big black cat. When I moved he looked up, with his huge green eyes, but he didn’t leave, just continued to check everything out. I got up to get my camera because it was so ridiculous I wanted to show you, but as soon as I did he jumped easily out the window and back onto the roof where I suppose he came from. So that is when I learned not to leave your windows open when you are sleeping if you live on the top floor of the building. It'll take me a few posts to get you all up to date, but this is so long I figure I better stop before you all fall asleep. A bientot mes amies-
Lyndsey
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