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.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Friday, February 15, 2008
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?!
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?!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, February 11, 2008
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.
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!
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.
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.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
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.)
Ponine8170: when people say i look pale "like death" i will tell them that instead
Well, if one can pull off being a artistic sort of sickly, Paris is the place to do it.
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 |
| 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.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
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!
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
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??
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.
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.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)