Madame la Guillotine

Since I'm getting up ridiculously early tomorrow, I didn't have time to go out like I normally would on a Friday night. I also didn't really feel like it; as I said before, I haven't been in the best of moods. But also as I said, Paris always cheers me up.

Whenever I need my spirits lifted I visit the Place de la Concorde, the center of activity during the French Revolution. All right, it sounds strange that it cheers me up to go visit the place where thousands of people were beheaded...but what can I say, vive la Revolution! Today, sadly, there is no more guillotine. Have I talked about this before? I feel like I have. Anyway, there are fountains and a giant Egyptian obelisk.

My original plan was to go to the Louvre, which is free for students on Friday nights, then walk over to the Bastille opera (which is a long way away). However, I managed to forget all 4 of my student ID cards, having changed both my jacket and purse before going out. So I wandered to the Place de la Concorde instead.

It was raining a tiny bit, a cold rain with big drops, but not many. Few tourists were around, so I got a nice opportunity to enjoy the square in peace. Aside from the major roads running through it, of course. Anyway, I sat under the obelisk facing down the Champs Elysees. It runs straight from the Place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe and beyond; from where I sat I was directly in line with the arch, probably a mile or so away. Street lamps dot the boulevard all the way down, and in the rain their lights glittered on the pavement and passing cars. (Incidentally, the pavement was not shining like silver, but only twinkling.)

So I sat there watching the cars and thinking about how lucky I was to be able to connect to such a public place. I tried to imagine what it might've looked like during the Revolution; there would have been no Arc de Triomphe, no searchlight from the Eiffel Tower which now sits just across the river, no boulevard leading to la Madeleine. I would have been sitting on the blood-stained ground under the guillotine rather than the slightly wet stones around the obelisk. There might have been one of those infamous old crones who cut locks of hair from the victims and braided them together as souvenirs.

This area is where Paris started. Celtic (Frankish) tribes settled that land on either side of the islands, then the Romans built their own city that was later threated by invading Vikings. Finally Ste Genevieve stopped what would be the last attack for a thousand years when she convinced the Huns to turn away from Paris. (She sent them into Normandy, I believe - nice of her.) It was the center of political activity for centuries after that, and is still to this day a symbol of the French Republic.

The Louvre used to be the palace of the French monarchs, and the Concorde is right at the opening of the Tuileries, the gardens of the palace. By the time of the Revolution, the Louvre had been abandoned by the monarchy and was little more than a glorious, dilapidated shell. But it was still indicative of all the abuses the monarchy had heaped upon its people - where else better to put the guillotine than where the eyes of the Louvre palace could watch its followers meet their death?

But I was more reminded of a moment I had in Istanbul two years ago: it was nighttime and a friend and I walked together to the Blue Mosque. At night the building is magnificently lit, and one can still wander the gardens. We stopped right in front of the mosque, under a light canopy of plants, and looked at the moon. It was full and perfectly placed between the two columns of minerettes. The Hagia Sofia rose behind us, not as delicate or overtly beautiful as the Blue Mosque, but more majestic.

That scene and the one I was looking at in the Place de la Concorde seem to me the most peaceful and memorable I have ever witnessed. It all made me want to make the call I shouldn't have made, but I had to talk to somebody.

So I called Kerry, because I love her more. We had a lovely chat and I eventually left the square to walk toward the Bastille. I never made it there, remembering I'm going to Brussels tomorrow and will do plenty of walking, but I still had an amazing night.

also!

I've officially made friends with Brian, the owner of my beloved bookshop. Since I got the OK from Karin to pick any sources for my French Revolution independent study, I've been searching around there and he's set a bunch of books aside for me.

Anyway, I've sort of vaguely been looking for a part-time job around here. I was thinking of babysitter or a conversation job (for people who want to learn English) but I just found out Brian has people work for him a few hours a week. The guy who works there in the afternoons usually leaves at 2, which is when my class ends. I'm thinking about mentioning that I'm looking for something, as it does see Brian doesn't have help after that..we'll see. I'm not sure my French is good enough; it's an English bookstore but it gets a lot of French customers.

free fall

I haven't been doing much the past few days. As you probably surmised from the last post, I was sick. I got sicker that day and continued being sick until about yesterday.

AUP's spring break is next week, but my Sorbonne phonetics course starts then, too. So I trade about 3 hours of class in the afternoon for 5 hours at an ungodly hour of the morning (aka 9:30), and also have my regular Sorbonne class. I'm kind of unnaturally excited for phonetics, though, because I'll be able to just listen to French and practice. Which is my idea of fun - don't judge!

I'm going to Brussels for the day tomorrow, but most people in the program are not going. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing, but I know others are traveling, and Brussels is close enough anyone could really do it on their own time. But when we go with the trip we get passes for museums and such, and good food. So I prefer to go with everyone.

The weather this week has been rainy and grey and generally depressing, which nicely enough has gone with my mood. Even so far away I still get sucked into crap that happens back home. I'd probably be in trouble if Paris weren't all around me, but it is so I'm good. (Also some people are pretty awesome, like Devorah who randomly sends pictures of kittens!) I saw an ad for something in the Metro the other day that was sort of comforting: it was something like, "Paris has only one secret, that she knows not those who arrive or leave, but she is always here for them." Of course it was a lot nicer and elegant in French, but I can't remember at the moment exactly what it said. Maybe next time I'll take a picture so I can translate better.

Regarding the title, who knew a TWoP writer could be so insightful?

this entry is dedicated to carol

My ever-loving [former]roommate. For reasons that will become apparent.

I stayed up really late last night for no particular reason other than I felt weird. I still managed to get myself up and to the Metro so I'd only be a couple of minutes late for class, but I didn't eat anything and felt quite shaky. So I'm sure everyone can guess about where this is leading: a dramatic "low blood pressure event"!

The closer I got to class the worse I felt. Even "Hit 'Em Up", which my iPod played at an opportune time, couldn't make me feel better. I continued to feel icky walking through St Mich, to the point where as I walked by St Severin's church I decided to go in and sit. At the point I realized "Hit 'Em Up" is probably the worst possible song to be listening to in a church. So I turned it off, feeling very sacrilegious as there seemed to be a priest gathering offerings, too.

After sitting for a minute I got up to walk around (it is my favorite, after all) and made it to the front alter when I felt I should sit again. I did for about a second before passing out - right before the alter. I'm sure it looked to anyone that I sort of stumbled toward the alter and collapsed; it's a good thing St Severin's is not pentecostal or something or I might've been attacked by The Spirit.

I wasn't out long and saw the priest running over. Of course I had also forgotten that I was in the middle of Paris - you know, where they speak French - and I tried to reassure him in English, which only distressed him more. So then I switched and told him I was just sick, it's all right, and I was going to go home. He seemed uncertain and I think he might've blessed me but I thanked him and left.

I thought about going to class but decided it probably wasn't a good idea. Instead I went to a yummy Libanaise crepe place so get some food before heading home - which was a strange journey in itself.


On the way I got a text message saying my phone kept sending some mysterious other person empty texts. Which is bad because texts are not cheap on my plan. After some discussion I realized it was Holly.

Then I rounded the corner to my apartment and ran smack into Josh, one of the Brits I met the other night. We had the usual conversation of, no I'm pretty sure my phone lies when it sends my number because I really do have a 0 - are you sure? - yes, really, try it - well I'm late - okay, so when you call put in a 0 - are you sure? - YES.

I finally got into the building and found the kitty running around the bottom floor. She's not supposed to do that and she knows it. It took a while for me to catch her, not being the swiftest today. She was mad at me and it was a bit of a challenge to take her in the elevator without being scratched to death.

Then my iPod went back to Hit 'Em Up.

friday's presentation

My Latin American lit professor had been begging us all week to come to a presentation she had put together with a few NYU Tisch professors. She brought them over here to do this talk about each of their fields and was really excited about the whole thing. Unfortunately, she planned it for a Friday night. I thought it looked interesting so I told her I'd go and volunteered to help at the reception after.

The professors were Fred Ritchen, a prof of photography who does an insane amount of things and I believe was nominated for a Pulitzer, Carol Dysinger, a film prof who does big-name editing, and another prof who teaches drama writing and I feel terrible that I can't remember his name.

The dramatist had some actors read from his latest play, which honestly looked pretty good. It was wry and tongue-in-cheek, but clearly set itself up for some major themes: it seems to be about a girl who tries to make it as an actress in NYC (for real!) but fails and gets home by pretending to be the family member escort of a corpse traveling by train. We only heard the opening two scenes but it looks like she ends up on the run with an escapee from a mental institution. Okay, so that sounds played-out, weird, and unpromising. But I think that's the point; even from what we saw it's always very aware of itself as a drama and purposefully keeps to stereotypes. Then he read from a novel he wrote, two short sections that I guess are stories within the story. They were both a similar wry kind of funny, but had deeper themes without hitting you over the head with them.

Prof Dysinger has been putting together a documentary she has been filming in Afghanistan the past couple of years. She said her aim was to try to simply show what everyday life is like for a typical American soldier in Afghanistan, without having a political agenda. While I think, and she later acknowledged, that it is pretty much impossible to make a piece like that from a "neutral" standpoint, the pieces we saw did concentrate on how things actually work there between the American and Afghan military, rather than anything overtly political. It was a very interesting clip, focused on the interaction between the generals of both nations and their relationships.

The last, Prof Ritchen, was also interesting, and perhaps the only actual example of the "new" media my professor was touting. He did point out, though, that putting photography online (most of his presentation) is hardly a new idea; what makes his projects "new" is the perspective they take on the internet and photography. He showed a handful of sites he's involved with that all try to get to the heart of world issues through photography. These could be ones showcasing photos of the lives of children in Rwanda who do not see themselves as victims but just as children, or one that reveals how highly publicized photos have been altered in the media. His main theme was that with the evolution of photography it is simply too hard to use that medium as a source of truth, as we often do. Pictures don't lie, right? He says they do very easily, and although I'm not entirely convinced by his presentation it was engaging and did make me think.

So after a few hours of that we all retired to the "Grand Salon" to nibble foie gras, crab, vegetables and drink champagne. Not that I got to do much of that I was serving the champagne, but it was nice to be able to talk to the presenters a little about their ideas.

churches of rouen

Many are probably wondering about the huge omissions in the last entry: where are the churches?! (Well, I know at least one person is thinking that.) I thought they deserved their own entry.

So Rouen is most well-known for burning Jeanne d'Arc (er, Joan of Arc [Ark?! I can't spell anymore!!] if anyone couldn't tell) and having that giant Gothic cathedral. It is indeed enormous and super high Gothic. I wouldn't necessarily call it pretty or elegant, but it's very imposing and fascinating. Sorry, this is the best picture of the front I could get; there's no way to get it all in one shot. The other is a detail of the middle portal.


That Gothic frill is just incredible.

So most of the cathedral dates from the 12th to 13th centuries. The tower on the left is from the 12th, but the right one (you can see it a little, it's more yellowy) is from the 16th, though. The townspeople preferred to pay fines rather than go without butter during Lent and wound up paying for a whole new tower! Lots of fun stuff happened there, but I won't bore you with stories of the Middle Ages. Parts of it were injured during WWII, especially those poor saints on the side. Casts of them are now inside the cathedral so you can see them better.

And, hey, look who's buried there! (Psst - it's Richard the Lionheart)


Except it's only his heart. Other bits of him are in various places. I have soo many other pictures of the cathedral including a cool staircase, stained glass and ridiculously ornate entrance for the bookkeepers. But it's hard to take good pics in a place like that.

Okay next there is the church of St Maclou, also high Gothic though much smaller. Most of my pics of the inside are blurry, as if I had too much coffee or something before taking them. Which I didn't.

Standing on a street between the two, you can see each of their spires, they're so close. It takes maybe 2 minutes to walk. Also situated between them is the traditional residence of the Archbishop of Rouen, and where he still seems to live.



Next in the realm of churches we have the St Ouen abbey, which is nearly as huge as the cathedral. They abbey was founded in the 8th century, and since then the building had been constantly undergoing change until the 19th; it's really interesting to see all the different phases and styles. I don't think the church part is still in use as it is rather empty inside. There are still organ recitals there, though, and it was being tuned while I was wandering around. The abbey is about 4 minutes from St Maclou. Here are views from the back and front:



A couple shots from inside the abbey...I thought it interesting that one of the cross' side windows featured a pentagram.




And finally we have the modern church. It was built in the square where Jeanne d'Arc was burned, and is dedicated to her. I'm not sure if they meant the design to be so ironic or not; you might not be able to see it, but the church is shaped like a witch's hat. It has some nifty stained glass on the other side.

fact: rouen is mind-bendingly awesome

I had a nice train ride to Rouen and got there around noon. Sadly, both of the cheaper places my guidebook suggested for eating were closed until Monday, so I had to take guesses. The town was smaller than I expected, but really pretty. This is a typical street, it's facing the St Ouen Abbey.

Another, in an older part of the town. You can see Gros Horloge (big clock) which is from the 16th century and still works. There was a lot of really good shopping around this area.


The first interesting monument I came across was the Tour Jeanne d'Arc, where she was held and threatened with torture. It's sort of just in the middle of a small business-type area.

I did not get to go in, but I hear each level has an exhibit on Jeanne or Rouen during her time. It was used by the Germans as a bunker during WWII.

Then I went to their amazing Musee des Beaux Arts, which has a great collection. Monet was particularly inspired by the cathedral in Rouen, so they have a few of his works (including my favorite Monet, Fete a Rue St Denis), and a many, many other awesome pieces. Pictures were allowed so I took a million.

Then I journeyed my way to the tourism office, the best-preserved Renaissance building in Rouen. There were no English tours of the cathedral so I got an audio guide for a walking tour of the whole town. It was very interesting but I was disappointed that it did not mention the Aitre St Maclou: today this is a nice little courtyard, but it was actually a mass dumping/burial ground during the plague. You have to go through a tiny passageway then come out to this:


There's nothing saying what this place was used for, but the buildings surrounding it came shortly after the plague and in their decoration bear the only acknowledgment of the aitre's purpose.


Rouen itself is a very friendly, fun town with tons of great shopping. It's cheaper than Paris, too, which was really nice. Nearly every section of the city has interesting and cool shops; I even found a couple of good vintage places. In my wanderings I also came across an amazing patisserie (you can always tell which are the best because they have long lines just before dinnertime) where I got an almond croissant. Yummy.

train woes

I went to Rouen yesterday and it was so great I almost can't explain. It's a little over an hour from Paris on the train, in Normandy, and is a small but beautiful and active town. So my train was at 10:50 from St Lazare and while I got there with a lot of time to spare, I wound up having to say to the ticket worker guy, "The train leaves in two minutes, so can we hurry?"

I haven't really gotten used to the train system here. There are 2 types of trains out of Paris: the "suburban" lines and the "big" lines. The stations in Paris are dominated by the suburban lines (commuters, I guess) but these only go a little farther than the RER lines, which are like glorified Metros. The TGV and others like it are "big" lines that go throughout France and into neighboring countries. Although Rouen is not far from Paris none of the suburban (SNCF) lines go there, so it was rather confusing to get tickets. I got them online Thursday and it said I could pick them up in the automatic booths in the station.

First of all, apparently the SNCF and big lines don't use the same machines. The machines are also quite slow (silly me, I was thinking they'd be like the LIRR ones). So I ran around looking for a non-SNCF machine, then waited a while to use it. I had about 15 minutes left at this point. Then it rejected my credit card and I had no idea why - it said it was not a valid card to use even though it said it took Mastercard. So I had to go find actual people to talk to (in French of course) and wait in a long line to get to them. By the time I got to a person I had 4 minutes left. The guy explained you can't use foreign cards in the machines and I in turn explained I had to go really, really fast. He was amused and helped me out, getting the platform while the tickets were printing. 2 minutes. I had to sprint to the platform, almost forgot to composter my ticket - you get a huge fine if you forget to composter. I hopped into the last car as the conductor was locking the doors.

But of course these trains are long; I was seated in car 10 and got into car 17, so I had to walk through the aisles for 7 cars. Then it turned out although my ticket said 2nd class my seat was in 1st and everyone was confused.

It was all okay, though. Why? I got to sit next to a nun.

la madeleine

The concert I was trying to make on Sunday was a chamber choir performing at La Madeleine. I realized I'd never actually been in La Madeleine, so I thought this free concert would be a good opportunity. It turned out to be a small (20 person) select choir from a British college - meaning specialized high school, I believe. Anyway, I'll talk about that later.

La Madeleine is, for those who don't know, one of the newer Parisian monuments: it's a church started during Napoleon's time, but was not actually finished or consecrated until the mid 1800's. There was a lot of arguing about what the building should be, but finally it made its mark as the church for the elite who lived near l'Opera.

Looking at La Madeleine one would hardly know it's a Christian church. It's not set up in the traditional cross layout, it has no windows, but mostly it looks exactly like every Classical pagan temple you've ever seen. It is designed to fit in with the Parthenon and company, and certainly wouldn't look out of place in the neo-Classic-obsessed D.C. area. Inside it is stuffed full of Ionic columns and domes galore. What would normally be chapels look like mini-temples, and the statues of the saints are done in the neo-Classical style so they look like they could easily be Zeus or Aphrodite. The outside walls of the church are lined with statues of saints that one would never be able to recognize unless they read the names under them.

La Madeleine is quite pretty, and has amazing acoustics, but gives the overall impression of trying too hard. It is simply odd to come across this ancient Greek-inspired temple sitting in the middle of the Bouls Grands Magazins - the boulevards laid out in the 19th century to be modern and classy. It is in the same area as l'Opera and other buildings and roads of that nature. Nice, but I find it out of place. Perhaps if it were sitting next to the Pantheon I could pretend I were a snooty 17th century philosophe and marvel at the two.

PUCES!

...meaning fleas! As in markets; as in flea markets, or marches aux puces.

On Sunday I visited the world-famous flea market at St. Ouen, just outside Paris' city limits. It is huge and rather intimidating, but also ridiculously interesting. The first section you go through is a sort of sketchy-looking collection of stalls, mostly populated by people trying to push knock-off items on you. Most of them are not worth inspecting, but a few had tempting nargiles (or hookahs, for all you who have not spent time in Turkey...) with good flavors.

Going farther in you get more lost, but the things get better: the clothes stalls don't just sell cheap last-season fashion, but edgier, vintage items. Other vendors displayed Tibetan prayer flags, Che t-shirts and Tupac banners. They also got less pushy.

But the real change comes when you enter the markets that are housed in the permanent buildings. Most of these are antique markets, some of the best in the world, and I saw some great stuff. Many of these stalls are actually glass cases in the buildings with humidity control. the first one I looked at sold paintings and trinkets from the end of Imperial Russia. There were prints of Nicholas II and Alexandra, copies of proclamations, toys, and decorative items.

Some stalls just had modern reproductions of tackily neo-neo-Classical furniture pieces, but I saw a fair few Louis XIV chaises, original paintings and small boxes. But by far the most interesting and amazing piece I saw was an antique harp, dating from when Lyon and Healy (the biggest harp company in the U.S. and probably the world) was just Lyon - my mother would know better, but I'd say early 1800's? It had two sets of strings that crossed each other about two thirds of the way down to the soundboard and just one pedal. As far as I could tell, everything on the was still original; the strings were limed or rusted or something, and only a few were left. The designs in the molding were barely recognizable, but the guy said it was bronze. I asked him a few questions about it, but he said - and it's very likely - that I probably knew more about it than he did. There weren't enough strings for me to give the instrument a proper test, but those that were there had sufficient pressure to make a tone when I plucked them. I'd never seen a harp with a double set of strings, so that was very exciting.

Other stalls were interesting, too, and I think I'll go back and look around at some of the vintage clothes. I only had about two hours there because I was trying to make a concert, but I will let you know when I've explored more thoroughly.

ow.

I'd like to announce that I've found a substance able to stand up to my legendary fingernails: frozen bananas. Yeah. I was rushing around this morning because I was late (it has to do with Batman...don't ask) and figured I'd grab a banana to eat quickly. Fruit is kept on the outside terrace, and Paris has been very cold lately, around 30 in the mornings - this makes very cold fruit.

Well, peeling bananas for me falls into the same category as my almost-as-legendary inability to open things. I tried to tear off a banana from the bunch quickly, but it disagreed. In retaliation for my brutal act of parting it from its fellows, the banana bent back my thumbnail about halfway down, ripping it from the skin underneath. Now, my nail did not break (of course) but it was pretty darn bloody.

And if you've never seen a bloody banana, you might want to try it sometime. It's an interesting sight.

a bunch of random stuff because my life's been boring lately

Some of my habits have changed quite a bit since living in Paris. I make my bed every day. (YES, that is NOT a lie!) I tidy my room every morning. Both of those because I never know when Catherine or Aurelien will be in there.

I'm addicted to Nutella. I eat it at home sometimes, but I've already gone through multiple jars here. By myself.

I eat oranges and clementines. Most people at home know I don't really eat citrus fruits - especially oranges. I have no idea why I eat them so much here. But they are a good snack and really delicious. And fun to peel. My right thumbnail is perpetually orange and smells like oranges.

I actually stop to talk to those people on the street who try to sell you things/tell you about stuff/make you donate money. Mostly to practice my French. I even told one of them the only reason I was talking to him was to practice my French. Interestingly, he was not offended.


I've been keeping a mental tally of strange people I've seen in Metros and such. First, let's go with hair: there was a white lady with a GIANT fro in a church the other day. It was like 80's perm sort of frizzy curly and I'd say at least 3 times as big as her head. She was also tiny. Then yesterday on the RER I saw a mullet. A real, live, French mullet! It was on a guy and not terribly long. I'm rather amazed he hasn't been stoned or something by now.

Finally: why don't French Chinese places call their food by Chinese names?!

j'ai commencé mon cours à la sorbonne !

Right, so that pretty much is it. For all you non-French speakers, I started my class at the Sorbonne.

It's two hours long every day, and every other week I also have an hour of phonetics every day. It's pretty intense, but I've already learned a lot in just 3 days. The professor is very smiley and nice and always speaks clearly, which is helpful. It's a class for all foreign students, so we all have to speak French to each other. There are around 12 people, one of whom is in my program - Dmitry, who is the type of guy no one really likes but they cling to him because he puts himself in the middle of everything. He's sort of loud and acts very confident and cool at all times.

It's sort of funny because seeing him in class is really different from how he is outside of class; he constantly will answer questions in English, then realize how dumb that is, then get really red and cover his face. He likes to answer questions but is very hesitant about it and gets embarrassed when he screws up. The contrast between class and outside of class amuses me.

The building I have class in is right by the river on the Left Bank, in the Latin Quarter, next to St. Julien le Pauvre. It's just a block or so down from my favorite spot, where St. Severin's church and the Abbey Bookshop are. I usually get falafel or a crepe after class and sit in the park by St. Severin's to eat and read. It's the best location I could've hoped to have for my class, as it's close to that stuff, close to a bunch of Metros, good shopping, and mostly anything else I might need. There's also enough time so that I can walk from my French class to my AUP class when I have it, and it's a nice walk along the river across from the Louvre, past the Musee d'Orsay and the Eiffel Tower. It would take me a while to walk there from home, but on a nice day I could do it.

I have class at AUP this Saturday, which is annoying. I think we get like 2 Mondays off during the semester so they decided to have a make-up class on Saturday. Boo.

st malo

Sunday morning we drove a very sleepy bus load of students back to St. Malo, where we had a very interesting walking tour. St. Malo is now mostly known as a seaside resort, but it played a large role in pirate wars of the 17th century. It has always had a very strong regional identity; it's motto is, "Malois, always; Breton, maybe; French, if there's anything left." (Malois = being from St. Malo; Breton = being from Brittany) It was granted the right to be an independent city in the 17th century by Henry IV, the "Protestant King", because the Malois successfully revolted against having a non-Catholic king. St. Malo (my pictures now):



It is an old, walled city that like Mont St. Michel used to be an island at high tide. It was very rich from its sea-related industry and was often raided by English pirates/privateers. As a result many castles were built in the ocean around the city. One is fairly close, and you can walk there during low tide. Here is the difference between high and low tide (33 ft the day we were there!):


During low tide I climbed up those rocks on the side to get to the castle. It's privately owned, though, and you can't go in. The beach was gorgeous and the sand had a pretty pattern because the tide went out so quickly.

After visiting the beach I went back to town to check out the cathedral. Most of St. Malo was destroyed during WWII because the Allies bombed it during the Liberation, but many stones remained intact. They rebuilt the city using the original materials and based off of original designs. The cathedral was half-destroyed, so a lot of it is modern. The stained glass is all new and very colorful; the sun was setting while I was there so the colors shone very strongly in the cathedral itself.


Jacques Cartier was from St. Malo and is buried in the cathedral (although most of his skeleton was lost during the bombing and only his skull is in there now).

The city itself was very friendly and interesting. There were also the castle of the town itself, which we could not go in, and a carnival going on outside the city walls when the tide went down. Now there is an artificial harbor and the city is never completely disconnected from the mainland, but all the social life there revolves around the tides. The streets also have fun names like "Rue de la Chat qui Danse" (Dancing Cat St) or Fat Calf St. They're big on incorporating historic quotes into everyday life. Actually, the whole atmosphere there is based on being independent; the Malois, and really Bretons in general, don't really consider themselves French as other French people do. They are loyal to France, and don't go along with any other nation, but they are most distinctly Breton.

mont st. michel!

After leaving Cancale, we took a bus back down the coast a bit to the Mont St. Michel, which lies right on the border of Brittany and Normandy. As I said before, Mont St. Michel is an old monastery set up on a sometimes island/sometimes peninsula. It is absolutely gorgeous:

And it's full of interesting history, which we all know is important for me. There is a small walled medieval town around the church, now mostly living off of the tourist industry. To get to the church you have to walk through the windy, steep streets, and on the way there are many tourist traps but also a bunch of genuinely interesting shops. We didn't have a ton on time there and a few of us really wanted to get a good look at the church and surrounding area, so we did not stop at many of these. We did see, though, a store full of Le Petit Prince postcards (!!) and a shop with cool gargoyles (sorry, Mom, I couldn't buy any).

We walked along the walls of the church grounds and climbed various parapets and such and generally amused ourselves with the group. But a lot of people preferred to go play in the mud/"quicksand" that surrounds the peninsula when it's low tide, so didn't want to go through the whole church. Alex, Martha and I - the same ones who ran up the mountain in Cancale - wanted to do both and figured we'd have enough time. However we got rather distracted by the views while going to the top of the church and lost track of time.

The church for the moment is kind of empty. Most of the statues, reliefs and paintings have been removed and copies are being made. So it was a bit weird to see such a huge church with nothing much (except a menorah?) in it. We got to see parts of the monastery, all from different periods. One chapel was begun in the 11th century, for example, and another in the 15th. There was a beautiful little courtyard inside, and we stayed there for a while. I gave a lesson on stained glass when Alex was sure the windows couldn't possibly be original, but he liked my version better.

We realized (again) that we only had about 15 minutes until we met up with the group, but thought we'd still have time to make it down the mountain to play in the mud. We would have, too, if we didn't get stuck behind a tour and the exit route wasn't so indirect. It's understandable; they want you to see all parts of the grounds, so direct you through them, rather than the fastest way down. We had to push our way through a large tour group before running down the many steps back to the bus, and again just made it in time. No mud for us.

We stayed that night outside of Mont St. Michel, and it was the first time the whole group had met up and socialized together. There was a big party in the hotel, and we became a more cohesive whole, which was nice. I know a bunch of people a lot better, but others I dislike probably more. Oh, well, at least there are a fair number who are cool. I even found a few history people, yay!

train and cancale

The trip to Normandy and Brittany this weekend was really great! That part of the country is beautiful, and has interesting history. It was also gorgeous out all weekend, which made our beach trips far more enjoyable. We left Paris at 8am on the TGV (train à grande vitesse, or very high-speed train) and arrived in St. Malo around 11. The TGV goes above 200 mph, but we had a bunch of stops.

I actually enjoyed the train ride a lot because we got to see the French countryside all the way from Paris, which is central, to Brittany, which is on the coast. Immediately outside Paris the land was very green and pretty, with lots of farmland. A little farther from Paris the land turned to marsh and there was steam rising from the ground in the cool morning air. As we got deeper into the countryside you could see the land becoming rockier and more mountainous, with fewer farms and more lonely houses.

Through most of the countryside, however, one thing that struck me most was the absence of individual, isolated farms or houses; that is, houses that were not obviously connected to one town or another, just sort of in the middle of uninhabited land. One sees this a lot in the States, but the residents of the French countryside are almost exclusively settled in small towns that are self-contained and surrounded by the farmland, rather than a home sitting on a large area of land. These are for the most part very old towns, and each had its parish church, many had ancient walls, and they all had examples of old-style cottages, barns and animal keeps. Even with the few examples of isolated houses, they usually had a fence or wall surrounding the area around the house, though it was clear the house and the land around it belonged to the same people. The French really cherish their privacy.

We arrived in the "city" of St. Malo, in Brittany, took a short bus tour through it and went on up the coast to Cancale. Cancale is a small, very pretty seaside town with nothing outstanding in the way of history, but very good food. I don't think it's well-known for anything, but we visited it as a typical town of the area. We were there for lunch and an hour or so to explore. I have shamelessly stolen pictures from other students, because I didn't get any batteries until the next day. Here's Cancale:



I went off with a small group of students, most of whom I do actually like. We walked around for a bit before choosing where to have lunch, as that was the serious business of the visit. Holly had highly recommended a region specialty, moules frites, and we looked for a place with locals to ensure our moules frites (mussels with fries) were authentic. We found a place with a 3 course menu for 11.50 euros, and the food we ordered surely would've been at least twice that price in the U.S. I had some tasty fish soup, the moules frites, then a friend and I split two region desserts - meringue in a caramel custard and a prune cake/pie type thing. It was probably the best meal I'd had in France so far and there was so much food! I've had mussels before and they've been nothing too special, but these were delicious. They gave us each an enormous plate of them and we all ate everything, which just goes to show how good it was.

Our meal also took a while because the one poor waitress had to deal with about 16 of us (another group went to the same place) and the regular lunch crowd. By the time we were done, we only had about 15 minutes left to run up the mountain above the town (where the above picture was taken) and only three of us agreed to go. We ran down to the outskirts of the town, up many, many steps to see this memorial below and the gorgeous views.


We just barely made it back on time, but the running, sore legs, and breathlessness were worth it.

first trip outside the city

I'm leaving bright and early tomorrow to visit Mont St. Michel with the program people. Everyone is finally here - some aren't taking AUP classes so didn't need to come until this week - so there are a whole bunch of new people to meet. Mont St. Michel, for those who might not know, is a very small island in Normandy that was fortified from ancient times, and now has a village and a huge, old monastery. At high tide you can't cross to the island because the road to it gets washed out. From pictures I've seen it's gorgeous and quaint - I can't wait to see it. We'll see what happens with my camera, but for now here's its Wikipedia site:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont_Saint-Michel

I haven't done much exciting the past few days, just roamed around, did homework, and ate a bunch of panini. I must be getting really good at looking French, because people stop me constantly on the streets to ask about things. They're not pickpocketing or anything, they're mostly lost people. I don't know if this happens to most Parisians, but really, it's about every time I go out. David offered an explanation (and I know you're going to read this, so hello! Aren't you glad I name-checked you again? It's because you're awesome. Evidence below.)

d9k22:	i mean, you do look very european
d9k22:	what with your pale "i was raised behind silk curtains in a palace upon a great hill above the peasant village" skin

Ponine8170: when people say i look pale "like death" i will tell them that instead

d9k22:	you do not look like death
d9k22:	just a misunderstood but beautiful tb-ridden child of a grand duke

Well, if one can pull off being a artistic sort of sickly, Paris is the place to do it.

the wonder of freezing to death at st. denis

All churches are colder than they should be, and many are colder than the outside temperature. Some also contain cleverly disguised heating vents in the floors that are on about 2% of the time. I was walking around St. Ambroise this weekend during a concert intermission and paused to look at a painting. Little did I know I paused right on top of one of these vents. After a moment of standing there, the heat suddenly came on, right underneath me; did I mention I was wearing a skirt? Yeah, well you can imagine how quickly I ran away. (It's a good thing I've taken to wearing tights under practically all of my clothes.)

Yesterday I ventured to the foreboding district of St. Denis, on the outskirts of the city. Why, one might ask, would I want to go to a neighborhood that is well-known for its violent immigration riots and high crime rate, especially when that is the only place I've ever been pickpocketed? Well, I would answer, it is this district that holds the glorious St. Denis Basilica, the resting place of nearly all French monarchs from Charlemagne's daddy to the last Bourbons. Much of the basilica is taken up by a lovely but slightly creepy necropolis surrounding the alter. It sits on top of a large crypt that houses such illustrious personages as Marie Antoinette (now with her head!), her husband Louis XVI and her son Louis (the other Petit Prince) and various Charles, Henris, and Louis (or parts of them - Louis XIV's heart!) that I won't get into but trust me they're really cool.

Anyway, I didn't spend as much time as I wanted in the basilica. It stayed around 52 degrees outside all day and I left the apartment with my lighter coat, a skirt and t-shirt. I had a scarf and boots, just to make sure. It was rather pleasant to finally walk around without thinking where I could stop in to warm up. However! I did not count on the basilica being a good, oh, twenty degrees or so colder than outside. I could see my breath when I walked in, and it only got colder. By the time I came out of the crypt the tips of my fingers were faintly blue. So I left a little sooner than expected.

Oh, well, at least I knew that if I froze to death I'd be in good company. I'd probably get a nice effigy of me piously clutching my hands in prayer with my feet resting on some innocent dogs. Maybe I'd even get one of those "unknown princess" epitaphs!

tidbits

Okay so maybe I lied a little bit about a bunch of new posts. So here's some random observations about my current life in Paris:

There are 8 different types of cheese in the apartment refrigerator at this moment. That's right, 8. And they are all delicious. One of them is mine but I can't figure out which. In fact, I only know what two are for sure (the Brie and Roquefort), so I just eat bits of all of them when I can. I've been living by the sage advice of my dear former roommate: unless the mold is pink or red, you can eat it!

Aurelien scared the crap out of me today while I was at home by myself innocently writing my paper and petting the cat, who likes to hide under my covers. The walls are pretty thin here, you can often hear other doors opening and closing around the hall. I heard one open and didn't think anything of it, then all of a sudden a voice is speaking to me in French right next to me. I nearly chucked my book across the room. I didn't recognize him immediately, either, because he now has a full beard as opposed to the scruffiness of last time I saw him (he's been in London for a few days). He was quite amused by my kind of ridiculous reaction - but I was really into the Borges! Hmph.

Other fun things, let's see...oh, so I mentioned I'm reading Harry Potter in French? Well, I haven't gotten too far yet, but have found some amusing things. Professor Snape is Professeur Rogue. A little more revealing than his original name, hm? The other professors have remained the same, but many other names have changed (ex, Draco Malfoy -> Drago Malefoy). Magic wands are "sticks of magic". But by far my favorite is the Sorting Hat: in French choix means "choice" and chapeau is hat. What is the Sorting Hat in French? The Choixpeau!

a lazy day

Today might wind up being the first time I stay home all day. It is starting to get nicer out, but I have to prepare a paper for my midterm tomorrow. Also, I stayed up until about 4:30 checking the results of the primaries, so didn't wake up until noon. My original plan for today was go wander the Latin Quarter (again) and go to my new favorite place, a bookshop near St. Severin's church. I wanted to go see if my one book had come in and ask about some others, and also to take pictures of the shop for certain people who only wish they had a super-awesome, medieval-vaulted , bilingual, Canadian-run Abbey Bookshop near them but don't! Alas, I found out yesterday that all the batteries I have for my new camera will only last about 10 seconds. Sad.

Unless I go out with program people late I probably will stay here all day, doing homework, brushing up on my French (aka reading Harry Potter in French) and writing up some cathedral and concerts reviews. Hooray! I would like to do this while sitting on my balcony but I think it's still a bit cold for that. Anyway, that means you guys are in for a bunch of new posts today. Aren't you excited??

reason #7,218 i love the french people

One of my biggest pet peeves in life is when people clap at the wrong times at a concert. I'm even in a Facebook group called "Don't clap between movements or before the song is over, moron". If one cannot be bothered to look at their program to see how many movements a piece is, or does not pay enough attention to know which movement they are on, what are they doing at a classical concert?! How hard it is to watch for when the conductor and performers put their arms down for real?! Ack, it upsets me.

Anyway! The French don't do this! Really! Ever! I've been to a whole bunch of concerts now and have been astounded every time. I have never heard someone clap between movements. AND the clapping at appropriate moments is never hesitant - they always know when to clap! I'm a little baffled at this phenomenon, though...do they teach it in school? Is it required that the French go to a certain amount of concerts so that they develop a clapping intuition? Intriguing.

first pictures!

Okay, bear with me here as I'm not sure how pics work on blogs. I took some of my room and the view from my balcony.





Here are a couple of my room, decorated courtesy of Aurelien. I think he does art-type stuff too (note the easel). He has a lot of good books - there's another bookshelf on the other side.








And like I said, he has lots of airplanes hanging from the ceiling. Here are a few:




This is the school courtyard my balcony overlooks and where the kids have recess and such. The other is the school itself.



















And then these are some other views. You can see the Tour Montparnasse (the tall building) in one.

jour de crêpes

Catherine told me today is the Jour de Crêpes (crêpe day!), and she showed me how to make batter for them! Yum. So before I forget: gently mix a quart farine (a kind of flour - I know quarts are for liquid but I can't remember the conversion) and 3 eggs until well blended and there aren't any lumps; a few dashes of salt for crêpes salées; mix with a quart of milk, adding about 1/3 at a time and a little water; let the batter sit for about 4 hours.

I'm not sure why there is a Jour de Crêpes, but I like it.

Today - and this weekend - are also for me the Jours de Tocqueville, as I'm somewhat behind on my reading of him. There are two concerts I want to go to tonight, and like seven that I want tomorrow. I might get to both tonight provided the first isn't too long: a vocal ensemble with organ at the Val-de-Grâce (will I finally get in there?!) performing Bach, Rameau and Holst, then an alto and piano at Chapelle St-Bernard performing Brahms, Chopin, Ravel, others. Sounds good to me.

I finally got my camera! I'm going to try to post some pictures next.