A whirlwind of activity has occurred since we last spoke. My experiences lead me to re-evaluate the perspective I had of this city and its people. I also learned much about my country of origin due to cultural differences. This is also due to the fact that the common French person knows more about American politics than I do. I am not really uninformed, I promise, but in France there is a fascination for all things American. Although I do not share this particular love for American culture, France and I seem to be getting along quite nicely. I find myself doing things that I have only dreamed about, ranging from a gypsy music concert to a protest march.
On the second of this month, I attended an event called Nuit Blanche, a type of all night art festival put on every year in Paris since 2001. The expression "Nuit Blanche" is a play on words, literally meaning white night, it is commonly used to describe a night without any sleep. Each year, museums and galleries across Paris are free to the public all night during one night in October. Invited artists from across the globe display art inside and outside of galleries. From abstract minimalism to straight forward propaganda art, the gamut of contemporary art is visible on this night. I saw obscure sculptures and performance pieces, a blinking chandelier and an intriguing exhibition of black and white flags. My Nuit Blanche came to a successful end as I watched the sun rise over La Notre Dame, and reflect on the river Seine.
I don't know if you knew this, but food is a big deal to French people. They work between hours of eating. There are two isles in the supermarket dedicated to various cheeses, and of course you can pick up your favorite pastry at any corner, where there is sure to be a mom and pop boulangerie. Wine is served with lunch and dinner, and is generally cheaper than a soda at a restaurant. Drinking espresso is necessary in Paris, as Lattés are too expensive. I have developed quite the habit for Orangina these days, its becoming deadly. Picnics are the best way to eat in Paris, one can sit on the bank of the Seine or at Paris' greatest park, Buttes Chaumant. Trying French cuisine is an adventure on it's own, after trying duck, rabbit, mussels and snails you start to get used to tasting new things and enjoying them. I think the biggest obstacle is being able to overcome the norm of what you perceive as "gross" and try to see why other cultures may find it perfectly edible.
Although French food is splendid, I can not bare to abandon my love for spicy food. So as I was walking along République, enticed by the allure of spicy chicken wings, I entered an American restaurant called Buffalo Grill. I felt as if I were in the only American restaurant in Wi'Britain from Arrested Development. I ordered the "All American" meal of Tapas off of the menu which was covered in French flags. It came with chicken wings, onion rings, chicken on a stick and tacitos. God Bless America. I was not surprised when the wings were not spicy as promised, as the french hate spicy food. The array of fried food stuffs helped my homesick hunger subside, then my stomach ache later reminded me why I never ate American food when in America.
I marked an item off my bucket list yesterday, when I participated in a protest march or "manifestation" as the french would say. You may have heard of the strike that is currently happening in France right now, but if not I will give you a very brief overview. Millions are striking all across France to demonstrate their opposition to the raising of the retirement age. In Paris This strike closes gas stations, schools and affects transportation lines, and yesterday it closed streets. A huge protest march ensued (scheduled at 1:30, started around 3:00, very typical of the french to be fashionably late) stretching approximately two miles across Paris.
My friend and I were looking to do some sight-seeing but instead we decided to take part in this moment of history. We were surrounded by people decorated with anti-Sarkozy stickers chanting protest songs. There was music and drinking in the street, clever slogans and leftist propaganda, people selling Tshirts, and people stripping for the cause. We could barely move through the dense crowd, but as we skulked by, we talked to all sorts of French people who gave us their opinions about the issues. Although some more sensible than others, the main thing I noticed was their solidarité. As we marched across Paris, witnessing people from various social standings, I felt like a Parisian. It is truly in the French spirit to strike against injustice, this revolutionary spirit burns like a fire in the heart of French identity. I really feel that this comradeship is something to be admired, it takes something to really stand up for what you believe in.
Thanks for sticking with me my fellow citizens of the world. Until next time, much love from Paris!
-Sara
mercredi 20 octobre 2010
vendredi 1 octobre 2010
week 2.5: The word of the day is gratuit.
So much happened this week (and a half) that I want to tell you about.. I will try to be concise. The free things brought a smile to my face this week! First off, I can't even tell you how many Cincinnati Red's hats I have seen in this week and a half... the number of them is in the double digits. Do you know who is wearing these hats? The gangsters of Paris that follow me around in the boulevard and harass me for my phone number. As I escape them by using my bitchiest face and my power walking skills, I wonder if they have ever seen a baseball game.
The street life in Paris is reminiscent of New York; insert Haussmannian architecture and cheap rental bikes. I have to admit that I was a bit worried about being completely isolated by city life when I moved to Paris alone, but there is an unexpected sense of community here. I also didn't expect to encounter was the word gratuit (this is the french word for free) in the city of lights.
Both of these things are combined by my greatest resource when it comes to searching for the happs: couchsurfing.com. On this free website young travelers and locals meet up for a drink, or meet to find/provide a place to sleep, gratuit! They have parties almost every night and there are always people posting events ranging from museum visits to salsa lessons. The people I have met are so friendly and they welcome me to Paris with a smile. I witnessed a DJ event and also a fashion show in the street this week due to this website. This weekend I plan to meet some new CS friends for another free event called Nuit Blanche, but you have to wait until next week to hear about this one. I have a feeling it will be epic.
I guess I was lucky when I stumbled onto a bar with free couscous and lamb on Saturday night. Here I grabbed a cheap Stella (ok 4 Euros for a tap beer is cheap in central Paris) and sat down. I was lucky enough to have a tour guide and a film director join me for a drink, and they told me about the dinner gratuit. They were extremely pleasant company, we wittingly talked of politics, of stereotypes and of the intricate symbolism of Terminator 2. I will soon take them up on their offer to show me more of the city.
You may know that I am the kind of person that likes to defy stereotypes, but while walking home, I was flabbergasted to see the personified cliché of a Frenchman. This was a priceless moment, the best pleasures are gratuit, I tell you! With a cigarette in hand, he donned a black and white horizontal striped shirt with a scarf tied around his neck and (of course) a beret atop his mustachioed face. I am happy to say that this man was at the café next to my flat on Rue Dauphin. Later that day I found out that this street translates to Dolphin Street, how ridiculous... needless to say the combination of these two free events ended my case of the Mondays.
A few days later I was lucky enough to be able to check out Monet's home and garden gratuit! Here I met a contact from Cincinnati named Mark Fox who is in artist's residence at Monet's Giverny Gardens, where he is creating out of this world video art inspired by the artist and the water garden. He merrily gave me a free tour of the place he has been living and working for the past two months, the landscape was straight out of a painting, literally.
All of these happenings are brought to you by the word gratuit. Well, minus alcohol consuption and transportation costs.
Until next time, much love from Paris!
-Sara
The street life in Paris is reminiscent of New York; insert Haussmannian architecture and cheap rental bikes. I have to admit that I was a bit worried about being completely isolated by city life when I moved to Paris alone, but there is an unexpected sense of community here. I also didn't expect to encounter was the word gratuit (this is the french word for free) in the city of lights.
Both of these things are combined by my greatest resource when it comes to searching for the happs: couchsurfing.com. On this free website young travelers and locals meet up for a drink, or meet to find/provide a place to sleep, gratuit! They have parties almost every night and there are always people posting events ranging from museum visits to salsa lessons. The people I have met are so friendly and they welcome me to Paris with a smile. I witnessed a DJ event and also a fashion show in the street this week due to this website. This weekend I plan to meet some new CS friends for another free event called Nuit Blanche, but you have to wait until next week to hear about this one. I have a feeling it will be epic.
I guess I was lucky when I stumbled onto a bar with free couscous and lamb on Saturday night. Here I grabbed a cheap Stella (ok 4 Euros for a tap beer is cheap in central Paris) and sat down. I was lucky enough to have a tour guide and a film director join me for a drink, and they told me about the dinner gratuit. They were extremely pleasant company, we wittingly talked of politics, of stereotypes and of the intricate symbolism of Terminator 2. I will soon take them up on their offer to show me more of the city.
You may know that I am the kind of person that likes to defy stereotypes, but while walking home, I was flabbergasted to see the personified cliché of a Frenchman. This was a priceless moment, the best pleasures are gratuit, I tell you! With a cigarette in hand, he donned a black and white horizontal striped shirt with a scarf tied around his neck and (of course) a beret atop his mustachioed face. I am happy to say that this man was at the café next to my flat on Rue Dauphin. Later that day I found out that this street translates to Dolphin Street, how ridiculous... needless to say the combination of these two free events ended my case of the Mondays.
A few days later I was lucky enough to be able to check out Monet's home and garden gratuit! Here I met a contact from Cincinnati named Mark Fox who is in artist's residence at Monet's Giverny Gardens, where he is creating out of this world video art inspired by the artist and the water garden. He merrily gave me a free tour of the place he has been living and working for the past two months, the landscape was straight out of a painting, literally.
All of these happenings are brought to you by the word gratuit. Well, minus alcohol consuption and transportation costs.
Until next time, much love from Paris!
-Sara
mardi 21 septembre 2010
week 1: Are you speaking french?
It was so sad to leave my friends and family back in Ohio, but I know that they will always be apart of my life no matter what, because no matter where I am, I know they are right there! Despite my apprehensions, I jumped on the plane at 9:05 AM and my adventures began...
My first week in Paris was a riot.
As soon as I arrived (at 6:50 AM which is 12:50 AM in Ohio) i dropped off my bags to visit my first prospective apartment. The first one I visited was on the seventh floor with no elevator, that's seven floors plus the ground level, for all of you Americans! So.... I did not get that one, my only disappointment that it had a view of the Eiffel Tower. Its ok, try to imagine me carrying my 105 lb luggage up those stairs..not happening. I immediately knew that the next place was not for me when I entered the house and saw a stuffed fox on display in the foyer. To add to the unfortunate circumstance, there was a faded Harry Potter comforter on the bed that I was to rent.. sorry wizards I don't want to sleep with you on top of me tonight. After seeing two more places without any luck, I found a nice little room near the metro line 7, close to my work. It is in a suburb outside of Paris called Villejuif, which literally means Jew-town in English (you're welcome, Anna). I arrived, saw the kitty, and knew I was home!
While the apartment hunt was underway, I stayed at a very very nice hostel called St. Christopher's Inn, if you ever go to Paris on a budget, stay there. Everyone speaks English, I met so many Aussies and Kiwis and even some Ohioans! I drank with some cool Aussies and we bonded over Summer Heights High. After spending four nights in a hostel and paying for six, I was done playing nice with all of my english speaking comrades. I ventured from the microcosm of my native language on Friday to get drunk with some really nice french bloaks. Although I probably embarrassed myself because they fed me too many drinks, they were great, and even helped me find my wallet the next day. Well who really helped me was some girl that found it in a cab and contacted me via facebook... I have faith in humanity! I know, I know, bad start on being a responsible adult, but hey, I learned my lesson!
So I wanted to be speaking french as much as possible after arriving, but that is easier said than done. I was soon to realize that the french that I was speaking was at the level of a six year old. I spent many conversations just smiling and nodding while people ramble on in french at me while I understood about half of their dialogue. But as it turns out, you really don't need to know the other half, you just need to act like you do. I am getting better though, the more I hear spoken french the more I adjust to the abbreviated vernacular. Now I know when I am getting hollered at and exactly what they are saying.. Apparently only old french dudes want to be my friend (don't worry mom, I know the expression for leave me alone).
until next time... much love from Paris!
-Sara
My first week in Paris was a riot.
As soon as I arrived (at 6:50 AM which is 12:50 AM in Ohio) i dropped off my bags to visit my first prospective apartment. The first one I visited was on the seventh floor with no elevator, that's seven floors plus the ground level, for all of you Americans! So.... I did not get that one, my only disappointment that it had a view of the Eiffel Tower. Its ok, try to imagine me carrying my 105 lb luggage up those stairs..not happening. I immediately knew that the next place was not for me when I entered the house and saw a stuffed fox on display in the foyer. To add to the unfortunate circumstance, there was a faded Harry Potter comforter on the bed that I was to rent.. sorry wizards I don't want to sleep with you on top of me tonight. After seeing two more places without any luck, I found a nice little room near the metro line 7, close to my work. It is in a suburb outside of Paris called Villejuif, which literally means Jew-town in English (you're welcome, Anna). I arrived, saw the kitty, and knew I was home!
While the apartment hunt was underway, I stayed at a very very nice hostel called St. Christopher's Inn, if you ever go to Paris on a budget, stay there. Everyone speaks English, I met so many Aussies and Kiwis and even some Ohioans! I drank with some cool Aussies and we bonded over Summer Heights High. After spending four nights in a hostel and paying for six, I was done playing nice with all of my english speaking comrades. I ventured from the microcosm of my native language on Friday to get drunk with some really nice french bloaks. Although I probably embarrassed myself because they fed me too many drinks, they were great, and even helped me find my wallet the next day. Well who really helped me was some girl that found it in a cab and contacted me via facebook... I have faith in humanity! I know, I know, bad start on being a responsible adult, but hey, I learned my lesson!
So I wanted to be speaking french as much as possible after arriving, but that is easier said than done. I was soon to realize that the french that I was speaking was at the level of a six year old. I spent many conversations just smiling and nodding while people ramble on in french at me while I understood about half of their dialogue. But as it turns out, you really don't need to know the other half, you just need to act like you do. I am getting better though, the more I hear spoken french the more I adjust to the abbreviated vernacular. Now I know when I am getting hollered at and exactly what they are saying.. Apparently only old french dudes want to be my friend (don't worry mom, I know the expression for leave me alone).
until next time... much love from Paris!
-Sara
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