I have been away from Chicago for nearly four months.
Four months!
And, by golly, I am *so* ready to come home. Not that Paris hasn't been amazing (I'm still mulling over things that I've learned during my time abroad), but I said my goodbyes to Paris last Thursday - i.e. when my program ended and my friends started disappearing, one by one by one. Additionally, I've had these super intense cravings for Chipotle (guacamole and a margarita), sushi, good Chinese food, Korean bbq, Cedars, good coffee... and, perhaps most strongly, VEGETABLES. For the last 3 weeks, I failed to buy good, fresh produce. I'm kind of hoping that I'm not going through some sort of vitamin deficiency (like scurvy!) and will be hitting up HPP so hard when I get back.
I'm taking a nap before my friend arrives to borrow my shower. I have an incomplete thought stewing in my brain and a tired, aching body full of pre-flighty anxiety and jitters.
xoxo,
D
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Berlin is awesome!
I will never understand Parisian strikes. Granted, I haven't tried very hard to, but this is from what I understand of metro/RER strikes: the strikes last for a fixed amount of time... but it's not *really* a full-out strike - trains and things still run! Just... slower. The good news is that I've only been through two Paris transit strikes. The bad news is that the second one took place yesterday.
As in the day I had to get to the airport.
As in the day that some Parisian airlines also decided to go on strike.
Luckily, I was able to move my flight to earlier in the day (albeit, I had to sit on the runway for an hour and a half)! I just had to take a really circuitous route to get to the damn bus stop so I could get on the damn plane and sit on the damn runway for 1.5 hours.
You can imagine my relief when I popped off the plane and into transit-efficient Berlin! The buses and metros are really easy to navigate, and since almost everyone here speaks English, I don't feel as bad about being an obnoxious American tourist. I met my sister at the old Wilhelm Kaiser Church, one of the few buildings/things to survive the war. Knowing that I was absolutely starving, my sister brought me a berliner (with plum jam filling!), then took me to a stand that's well-known for their doner kebab (think gyros... except made with chicken) and Curry 36, which is well-known for their currywurst (info on both can be found here). I do want to note that the doner kebab - a delicious, hot and crusty bun filled with chicken, fried potatoes, lettuce, onions, peppers, feta cheese, eggplant, and sprinkled with lemon - cost 2.70 euro. 2.70 EURO! In Paris, that would get you, like, two croissants! Gaah.
Afterwards, we trekked over to the Reichstag dome, took a bunch of pictures, and headed over to my sister's host family's apartment. Her host parents seem like really awesome people, especially since they're letting me stay over while they are on vacation (ironically, in New York). It feels really nice to be at home. Granted, someone else's home, but I really miss the feeling of sleeping in a place that feels lived in, a place that actually has history and character. Gosh, I can't wait to set up my room again in Chicago...
Anyway, I slept so very, very soundly yesterday night, and kind of want to crawl back into bed. Instead, I have to get a move on and (1) cook lunch, (2) buy a toothbrush, and (3) get my butt over to the Technik Museum. Not to sound like an uncultured cretin, but because I've been hopping from art museum to art museum over the past 3 months (e.g. the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam; the Louvre, Musee D'Orsay, Musee Maillot, Musee Carnavalet, Pompidou, and Dali Space in Paris; the Picasso museum in Barcelona; the Dali museum in Figueres...), I'm getting a little tired of wandering around and looking at art. The Technik Museum looks so, so incredibly cool; it kind of reminds me of Sony Wonder in NYC, except way bigger and awesomer. Maybe more like the Benjamin Franklin Museum in Philly. Both Sony Wonder and the Ben Franklin Museum were two of my favorite childhood museums, so I'm pretty jazzed about what I'm about to experience!
I'm feeling rumbly in my tumbly - time to cook!
xoxo,
D
As in the day I had to get to the airport.
As in the day that some Parisian airlines also decided to go on strike.
Luckily, I was able to move my flight to earlier in the day (albeit, I had to sit on the runway for an hour and a half)! I just had to take a really circuitous route to get to the damn bus stop so I could get on the damn plane and sit on the damn runway for 1.5 hours.
You can imagine my relief when I popped off the plane and into transit-efficient Berlin! The buses and metros are really easy to navigate, and since almost everyone here speaks English, I don't feel as bad about being an obnoxious American tourist. I met my sister at the old Wilhelm Kaiser Church, one of the few buildings/things to survive the war. Knowing that I was absolutely starving, my sister brought me a berliner (with plum jam filling!), then took me to a stand that's well-known for their doner kebab (think gyros... except made with chicken) and Curry 36, which is well-known for their currywurst (info on both can be found here). I do want to note that the doner kebab - a delicious, hot and crusty bun filled with chicken, fried potatoes, lettuce, onions, peppers, feta cheese, eggplant, and sprinkled with lemon - cost 2.70 euro. 2.70 EURO! In Paris, that would get you, like, two croissants! Gaah.
Afterwards, we trekked over to the Reichstag dome, took a bunch of pictures, and headed over to my sister's host family's apartment. Her host parents seem like really awesome people, especially since they're letting me stay over while they are on vacation (ironically, in New York). It feels really nice to be at home. Granted, someone else's home, but I really miss the feeling of sleeping in a place that feels lived in, a place that actually has history and character. Gosh, I can't wait to set up my room again in Chicago...
Anyway, I slept so very, very soundly yesterday night, and kind of want to crawl back into bed. Instead, I have to get a move on and (1) cook lunch, (2) buy a toothbrush, and (3) get my butt over to the Technik Museum. Not to sound like an uncultured cretin, but because I've been hopping from art museum to art museum over the past 3 months (e.g. the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam; the Louvre, Musee D'Orsay, Musee Maillot, Musee Carnavalet, Pompidou, and Dali Space in Paris; the Picasso museum in Barcelona; the Dali museum in Figueres...), I'm getting a little tired of wandering around and looking at art. The Technik Museum looks so, so incredibly cool; it kind of reminds me of Sony Wonder in NYC, except way bigger and awesomer. Maybe more like the Benjamin Franklin Museum in Philly. Both Sony Wonder and the Ben Franklin Museum were two of my favorite childhood museums, so I'm pretty jazzed about what I'm about to experience!
I'm feeling rumbly in my tumbly - time to cook!
xoxo,
D
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hallo, Berlin & R.I.P., pants!
I am flying out to Berlin today and am DAMN excited!
Also in the news: Parisian Dryers Kill Innocent Clothes!
The horror, the terror - when will the monstrosities stop?!
I have now lost all of my white/light colored clothing to my house's washing machine (ok, this one was my fault - I stuck a really old navy blue towel into the wash. However, I thought that since the towel is older than I am, it wouldn't bleed! It sounded like a safe assumption, but I soon learned otherwise). Additionally, the dryers have absolutely killed/warped a number of my jeans and sweaters.
I mean, I guess it's not so bad, considering that I haven't really gone shopping for jeans in a few years. What saddens me, though, is that I lost my favorite pair of jeans to my house's sorry excuse for laundry. They were my feel-good jeans, my go-to jeans, my you-make-my-ass-look-more-fantastic-than-a-thousand-squats-would jeans... and I found them for $10 from a thrift store.
R.I.P., jeans, R.I.P.
xoxo,
D
Also in the news: Parisian Dryers Kill Innocent Clothes!
The horror, the terror - when will the monstrosities stop?!
I have now lost all of my white/light colored clothing to my house's washing machine (ok, this one was my fault - I stuck a really old navy blue towel into the wash. However, I thought that since the towel is older than I am, it wouldn't bleed! It sounded like a safe assumption, but I soon learned otherwise). Additionally, the dryers have absolutely killed/warped a number of my jeans and sweaters.
I mean, I guess it's not so bad, considering that I haven't really gone shopping for jeans in a few years. What saddens me, though, is that I lost my favorite pair of jeans to my house's sorry excuse for laundry. They were my feel-good jeans, my go-to jeans, my you-make-my-ass-look-more-fantastic-than-a-thousand-squats-would jeans... and I found them for $10 from a thrift store.
R.I.P., jeans, R.I.P.xoxo,
D
Sunday, March 15, 2009
So much to do, so little time!
As predicted, a solid 5 hours of sleep and way too much food later, I'm back in action! As sad as it is to see people go, I'll see them soon enough. The real problem is trying to get my BA and limited time in Paris to play nice...
Yesterday, I went exploring with Alex. The Paris suburbs are across the highway from the building we live in (U of C seriously housed us in the middle of nowhere), and we've been pretty entranced by the really intense church across the way:
As cool as it was to see the church up close, we had no idea how to get *into* the church. I mean, the doors didn't have any handles, and after walking around the perimeter (and almost into the dark and pipe-y bowels of the building), we didn't see any other means of entry. Consequently, we decided to give up and head to the Louvre:
Confession: yesterday was the first time I'd actually wandered AROUND the Louvre. I know, I know, I'm an uncultured cretin! That said, I really wasn't... as impressed with the Louvre as I thought I would be. Perhaps I just like more intimate museums, perhaps I was just spoiled by going to high school ridiculously close to the Met. Who knows? It's a beautiful space, but I just didn't feel particularly connected to it.
Yesterday evening, my friends and I ate dinner at a tiny African restaurant Alex and I found during our morning Parisian suburb adventure. The food was absolutely DELICIOUS and cheap, but because I basically embarrassed all of my friends by whipping out my camera and snapping shots of the place, I refrained from snapping shots a second time. This is what I *was* able to take pictures of:
The evening ended with one, last trip out to the Frog (& Princess this time around). What was great - and absolutely ridiculous - was the fact that the music they played was the exact same music on one of my playlists. I should be a British pub DJ!
I'm not too sure what happened to my Sunday, given that I woke up obscenely early and ended up not doing very much at all. I went to the Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme, which was one of the best-curated museums I have visited in Europe. I was hoping that I'd learn a thing or two that I could use for my BA, but the museum covered Judaism in Europe up until WWII. Also, no photos were allowed (there were tombstones and tons of menorahs inside, so I understand)... but, boy, I wish I could show you how cozy and beautiful the museum is!
I just came back from La Rhumerie, a pretty fantastic lounge/bar that serves rum-based drinks (i.e. I likey. A lot.). Aside from the fantastic (and fantastically girly) drinks, there was a jazz band playing right behind us. I was oh so tempted to join in...
Paris, I will miss you. But it's pretty baller that I have so much to look forward to in Chitown =)
xoxo,
D
Yesterday, I went exploring with Alex. The Paris suburbs are across the highway from the building we live in (U of C seriously housed us in the middle of nowhere), and we've been pretty entranced by the really intense church across the way:
As cool as it was to see the church up close, we had no idea how to get *into* the church. I mean, the doors didn't have any handles, and after walking around the perimeter (and almost into the dark and pipe-y bowels of the building), we didn't see any other means of entry. Consequently, we decided to give up and head to the Louvre:Confession: yesterday was the first time I'd actually wandered AROUND the Louvre. I know, I know, I'm an uncultured cretin! That said, I really wasn't... as impressed with the Louvre as I thought I would be. Perhaps I just like more intimate museums, perhaps I was just spoiled by going to high school ridiculously close to the Met. Who knows? It's a beautiful space, but I just didn't feel particularly connected to it.Yesterday evening, my friends and I ate dinner at a tiny African restaurant Alex and I found during our morning Parisian suburb adventure. The food was absolutely DELICIOUS and cheap, but because I basically embarrassed all of my friends by whipping out my camera and snapping shots of the place, I refrained from snapping shots a second time. This is what I *was* able to take pictures of:
The evening ended with one, last trip out to the Frog (& Princess this time around). What was great - and absolutely ridiculous - was the fact that the music they played was the exact same music on one of my playlists. I should be a British pub DJ!I'm not too sure what happened to my Sunday, given that I woke up obscenely early and ended up not doing very much at all. I went to the Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme, which was one of the best-curated museums I have visited in Europe. I was hoping that I'd learn a thing or two that I could use for my BA, but the museum covered Judaism in Europe up until WWII. Also, no photos were allowed (there were tombstones and tons of menorahs inside, so I understand)... but, boy, I wish I could show you how cozy and beautiful the museum is!
I just came back from La Rhumerie, a pretty fantastic lounge/bar that serves rum-based drinks (i.e. I likey. A lot.). Aside from the fantastic (and fantastically girly) drinks, there was a jazz band playing right behind us. I was oh so tempted to join in...
Paris, I will miss you. But it's pretty baller that I have so much to look forward to in Chitown =)
xoxo,
D
Saturday, March 14, 2009
18 pages later...
...and my BA is still pure crap.
I am writing about stasis, paralysis, memory, blood-shadows splattered thick and heavy on the wall.
I am just frustrated because I know that the bulk of what I have written up will not be used. Hours and words waiting to be laid to waste. For the past week, I have been holed up in my room, writing the most poorly-worded sonofabitch ever. EVER.
My current BA rage is indicative of a few things.
First, that I need to start writing/finding my voice again. It's been a while.
Second, that I'm starting to get antsy and existential. I find myself questioning the legitimacy of the work I do, of my major, of my life goals (or lack thereof). Yes, I am interested in how memory works, how we reconfigure events and structure narrative, how trauma plays into memory and undoes the very fabric of our existence. But what is the point of this inquiry? What is the point of saddling yourself with unbearable pain that is not even yours, hell, that is not even real? There's more to this (like the really depressing views I've been hearing all quarter about the job market in the realm of humanities/social sciences-oriented academia), but... well, I guess during moments like these, all I can do is think about "The Giver" and praise the life and importance of the empath. Something to that effect, anyway.
Third, that I am getting very, very sad about people leaving. About the fact that, after tomorrow, I will be the last one (if not the last) in my program hanging around the dorm. Really, I think that is the crux of my current emotional blah-ness (note to self: stop blogging early in the morning after a couple of beers) - I feel like everything and everyone I know is pressed up against the exit doors of my life. I'm having a Holden Caulfield moment (and you know I'm homesick when I start feeling "Catcher in the Rye." I bloody hated the book).
Things really aren't that bad - not in the slightest! There is still so much Paris to see (and I'll be updating my "Things to Do in Paris" page in a bit) and eat! I think that what I am feeling now is anxiety over re-entering real life, of making the most of my leave of absence and making sure that I don't graduate *completely* destitute... Maybe it would be best for me to make a "spring thing" to do list in the near future. Like the end of the night.
Possibly back-populated recaps of the last few days of Paris are forthcoming.
xoxo,
D
I am writing about stasis, paralysis, memory, blood-shadows splattered thick and heavy on the wall.
I am just frustrated because I know that the bulk of what I have written up will not be used. Hours and words waiting to be laid to waste. For the past week, I have been holed up in my room, writing the most poorly-worded sonofabitch ever. EVER.
My current BA rage is indicative of a few things.
First, that I need to start writing/finding my voice again. It's been a while.
Second, that I'm starting to get antsy and existential. I find myself questioning the legitimacy of the work I do, of my major, of my life goals (or lack thereof). Yes, I am interested in how memory works, how we reconfigure events and structure narrative, how trauma plays into memory and undoes the very fabric of our existence. But what is the point of this inquiry? What is the point of saddling yourself with unbearable pain that is not even yours, hell, that is not even real? There's more to this (like the really depressing views I've been hearing all quarter about the job market in the realm of humanities/social sciences-oriented academia), but... well, I guess during moments like these, all I can do is think about "The Giver" and praise the life and importance of the empath. Something to that effect, anyway.
Third, that I am getting very, very sad about people leaving. About the fact that, after tomorrow, I will be the last one (if not the last) in my program hanging around the dorm. Really, I think that is the crux of my current emotional blah-ness (note to self: stop blogging early in the morning after a couple of beers) - I feel like everything and everyone I know is pressed up against the exit doors of my life. I'm having a Holden Caulfield moment (and you know I'm homesick when I start feeling "Catcher in the Rye." I bloody hated the book).
Things really aren't that bad - not in the slightest! There is still so much Paris to see (and I'll be updating my "Things to Do in Paris" page in a bit) and eat! I think that what I am feeling now is anxiety over re-entering real life, of making the most of my leave of absence and making sure that I don't graduate *completely* destitute... Maybe it would be best for me to make a "spring thing" to do list in the near future. Like the end of the night.
Possibly back-populated recaps of the last few days of Paris are forthcoming.
xoxo,
D
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Playing hooky
Today, I am playing hooky. Partially playing hooky, anyway - my French final (that I'm still studying for) is this afternoon. Besides, I'm playing hooky to do a number of things, like:
1. Get my life in order! It's working. Kind of. I'm packing up things and books that I think a friend of a friend might need/want when she's in Paris, and emptying out my fridge. I still need to figure out if I want to take digital or, um, not-digital (does anyone know what non-digital photography is called?) photography classes at HPAC.
2. Write my B.A. I whine about this a lot, I know, but I'm still having trouble penning ideas on a page. There is something gruesome about thinking of thoughts as butterflies; I am some kind of crazed lepidopterist pinning spectral butterflies to my computer screen. I'm also being pickier this time around, so each sentence is taking forever to form.
3. Study French. Right...
4. Sleep - I *finally* got a good 7 hours! YES!
It's amazing how confidence boosts come in the strangest places. I took my cinema final yesterday, which consisted of watching thirteen 5 minute shorts (our DVD of "Visions of Europe" was scratched, so we only watched half the movie. I really, really, really want to watch the rest of it when I get back home!) and writing 3-5 pages about it. Given that I had French that afternoon, I spent 2 hours on the final... and ended up writing 4.5 pages. I suppose that means that, verbosity-wise, I am back! Hopefully, the analysis portion of my writing/thinking will return soon...
I'm also going to hope that I'll be able to fudge my way through this French final the same way I did my midterm. As in... make something completely random up for the essay portion and hope my teacher doesn't notice the amazing amount of filler material on the page.
I need more adventures this weekend. In any event, I'm headed to Berlin next week for some more quality sister-bonding time =)
xoxo,
D
1. Get my life in order! It's working. Kind of. I'm packing up things and books that I think a friend of a friend might need/want when she's in Paris, and emptying out my fridge. I still need to figure out if I want to take digital or, um, not-digital (does anyone know what non-digital photography is called?) photography classes at HPAC.
2. Write my B.A. I whine about this a lot, I know, but I'm still having trouble penning ideas on a page. There is something gruesome about thinking of thoughts as butterflies; I am some kind of crazed lepidopterist pinning spectral butterflies to my computer screen. I'm also being pickier this time around, so each sentence is taking forever to form.
3. Study French. Right...
4. Sleep - I *finally* got a good 7 hours! YES!
It's amazing how confidence boosts come in the strangest places. I took my cinema final yesterday, which consisted of watching thirteen 5 minute shorts (our DVD of "Visions of Europe" was scratched, so we only watched half the movie. I really, really, really want to watch the rest of it when I get back home!) and writing 3-5 pages about it. Given that I had French that afternoon, I spent 2 hours on the final... and ended up writing 4.5 pages. I suppose that means that, verbosity-wise, I am back! Hopefully, the analysis portion of my writing/thinking will return soon...
I'm also going to hope that I'll be able to fudge my way through this French final the same way I did my midterm. As in... make something completely random up for the essay portion and hope my teacher doesn't notice the amazing amount of filler material on the page.
I need more adventures this weekend. In any event, I'm headed to Berlin next week for some more quality sister-bonding time =)
xoxo,
D
Monday, March 9, 2009
Clusterfuck
Lately, this is what I have been feeling like:
I realized that solitude does not exist for us as long as someone we love, even though they be somewhere else well beyond our reach, is feeling alone at the same time.
- Walter Benjamin, "Moscow Diary"
I usually look at this quotation as something lovely and wistfully optimistic. Except... at the moment, I feel as if everyone I love is feeling as distant and emotionally sapped as I am. Sucker-punched. Winded.
My apologies in advance for whining (and if you don't want to hear me whine, please skip this): this was my first bad day in Paris. That said, I guess the fact that my first bad day showed up after 10 weeks of being abroad is pretty lucky, no? And, perhaps, I really shouldn't label today a "bad" day - I am just feeling completely overwhelmed by the culmination and congregation of a dozen little things. I'm feeling better now than I was earlier today... I'm just completely emotionally drained.
I think today started out on the wrong foot and everything just snowballed - I woke up to a kind of depressing email from my adviser, which basically said that the work I've done for my BA so far is less than stellar and that I really need to focus (I was expecting this email. I know that what I wrote up was pretty terrible and, quite frankly, am ashamed that I am responsible for such poor prose). I have 7 pages at the moment, but given his comments and my future edits, I think I will be down to 5 by the end of tonight. By Friday, I need to have 18 pages. Do-able, yes, but I'll need to scale back on sleep. I'm probably going to churn out a REAL outline tonight - complete with cited passages and all that - so that when I skip my screening/class tomorrow, I can actually come up with some GOOD stuff.
Then I found out, for real, that I can't stay in my dorm past the 24th. Since my flight leaves the 26th, I panicked. Rather, I got really really really annoyed and sad - two weeks ago, I talked to my residence hall receptionists about staying until the 26th, and they were totally fine with it. U of C, however, wasn't, and decided to email us today about the last day we're allowed in housing. Given that I hadn't budgeted for a few nights in a hostel (the Center said that 20-40 euro a night is cheap. I don't have an extra 20-40 euro to blow on a hostel for two nights), hadn't FOUND a hostel (Paris hostels can be really hard to book), couldn't figure out what to do with my 90 pounds of luggage (and then some), and couldn't figure out how to get to CDG airport from most of the affordable hostels in Paris (if I can't take the RER, a taxi to CDG will cost another 50 euro), I was feeling pretty miserable about life. The feeling of a well-made plan (and one made well in advance, at that) unraveling is one of the worst feelings in the world. In the end, I guess I stressed all day over nothing, because U of C decided that it was actually ok for me to stay until the 26th... but, by God, I spent all of my class time fruitlessly searching for answers to my panicked questions.
Mentally vacant, I popped over to French... and hardly understood a word of what was going on today. What a confidence boost.
Aside from academics, I spent a large chunk of today replying to lots and lots of little messages and emails. And slowly ordering my life for next quarter (unsuccessful). I still haven't caught up with everything/everyone; I am running behind on life. There were a few other bumps, hitches, and glitches littered throughout the day. I don't really want to go into them; they just made me wonder how I get myself into certain situations in the first place.
I've been slowly working away since returning from class. Although I finished my second paper, it's not that good and it took far too long for me to finish. Completing my French homework and studying for tomorrow's quiz also took up way too much time. And now I'm feeling like a literary retard - once upon a time, writing was easy and words flowed thick and sweet like honey. My writing style has suffered immensely over the course of the past few months, and I am appalled by my inability to properly express myself.
I guess I just need some reassurance. Maybe some real conversation. Maybe this is a sign that I am ready to go home.
xoxo,
D
I realized that solitude does not exist for us as long as someone we love, even though they be somewhere else well beyond our reach, is feeling alone at the same time.
- Walter Benjamin, "Moscow Diary"
I usually look at this quotation as something lovely and wistfully optimistic. Except... at the moment, I feel as if everyone I love is feeling as distant and emotionally sapped as I am. Sucker-punched. Winded.
My apologies in advance for whining (and if you don't want to hear me whine, please skip this): this was my first bad day in Paris. That said, I guess the fact that my first bad day showed up after 10 weeks of being abroad is pretty lucky, no? And, perhaps, I really shouldn't label today a "bad" day - I am just feeling completely overwhelmed by the culmination and congregation of a dozen little things. I'm feeling better now than I was earlier today... I'm just completely emotionally drained.
I think today started out on the wrong foot and everything just snowballed - I woke up to a kind of depressing email from my adviser, which basically said that the work I've done for my BA so far is less than stellar and that I really need to focus (I was expecting this email. I know that what I wrote up was pretty terrible and, quite frankly, am ashamed that I am responsible for such poor prose). I have 7 pages at the moment, but given his comments and my future edits, I think I will be down to 5 by the end of tonight. By Friday, I need to have 18 pages. Do-able, yes, but I'll need to scale back on sleep. I'm probably going to churn out a REAL outline tonight - complete with cited passages and all that - so that when I skip my screening/class tomorrow, I can actually come up with some GOOD stuff.
Then I found out, for real, that I can't stay in my dorm past the 24th. Since my flight leaves the 26th, I panicked. Rather, I got really really really annoyed and sad - two weeks ago, I talked to my residence hall receptionists about staying until the 26th, and they were totally fine with it. U of C, however, wasn't, and decided to email us today about the last day we're allowed in housing. Given that I hadn't budgeted for a few nights in a hostel (the Center said that 20-40 euro a night is cheap. I don't have an extra 20-40 euro to blow on a hostel for two nights), hadn't FOUND a hostel (Paris hostels can be really hard to book), couldn't figure out what to do with my 90 pounds of luggage (and then some), and couldn't figure out how to get to CDG airport from most of the affordable hostels in Paris (if I can't take the RER, a taxi to CDG will cost another 50 euro), I was feeling pretty miserable about life. The feeling of a well-made plan (and one made well in advance, at that) unraveling is one of the worst feelings in the world. In the end, I guess I stressed all day over nothing, because U of C decided that it was actually ok for me to stay until the 26th... but, by God, I spent all of my class time fruitlessly searching for answers to my panicked questions.
Mentally vacant, I popped over to French... and hardly understood a word of what was going on today. What a confidence boost.
Aside from academics, I spent a large chunk of today replying to lots and lots of little messages and emails. And slowly ordering my life for next quarter (unsuccessful). I still haven't caught up with everything/everyone; I am running behind on life. There were a few other bumps, hitches, and glitches littered throughout the day. I don't really want to go into them; they just made me wonder how I get myself into certain situations in the first place.
I've been slowly working away since returning from class. Although I finished my second paper, it's not that good and it took far too long for me to finish. Completing my French homework and studying for tomorrow's quiz also took up way too much time. And now I'm feeling like a literary retard - once upon a time, writing was easy and words flowed thick and sweet like honey. My writing style has suffered immensely over the course of the past few months, and I am appalled by my inability to properly express myself.
I guess I just need some reassurance. Maybe some real conversation. Maybe this is a sign that I am ready to go home.
xoxo,
D
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Justine's Weekend in Paris!
Writing my B.A. is kind of like pulling teeth. I mean, I have a LOT of ideas... but, good god, I'm terrified of penning them! The idea of freezing ideas, of isolating them and forcing them into stasis, is scary. Very scary. Especially with such delicate subject matter and such brilliant thinkers. I feel as if barely-over-two-decades of existence does not give me the license to grapple with such esteemed literary and philosophical minds.
Anyway, given my current sleep deficit, I've decided to finally post an update (with pictures!) until my tea cools off. Once my tea reaches a drink-able temperature, I'm heading to bed and waking up hella early in the morning to get this B.A. churned out!
So, this is my weekend in a very, very smushed recap.
Thursday evening, I went to the opera around the Bastille to watch "Madame Butterfly." I spent a good portion of the opera fidgety and nervous, though, because Justine was flying in (1) at night, (2) from an airport that I can't really locate, and (3) would have to make it to my dorm on her (4) non-existent French. To aid her on her journey to Maison du Cambodge, I gave her pages of directions and sent her plenty of pictures of the RER station and buildings around where I live. Long story short, everything worked out and my sister didn't end up sleeping on Parisian streets. Success!
The next morning, I dragged my sister along to my class trip to the Cinémathèque Française. Photos weren't allowed in the building, but I highly recommend going to the museum - among other really awesome things, we saw Mrs. Bates' head! After the museum, we got some terrific Indian food for lunch:
Afterwards, my sister and I went to Montmartre. We popped into the Sacre Coeur (no pictures because I have too damn many as is), the Espace Dali (awesome in its own right - it was like a little piece of the Figueres Dali Museum in Paris!), and took pictures with the Moulin Rouge. For dinner, we went out to fondue in St. Michel:
On Saturday, we went to Versailles. We saw the palace:
And the Queen's Hamlet:
As someone who went through a Marie Antoinette obsession in high school, the Queen's Hamlet was pretty much the stuff of dreams! I'm going to restrain myself from putting up more photos, but there are PLENTY in my picasa album!
Later that evening, we ate a savory crepe from somewhere in St. Michel... then climbed up the Arc de Triomphe:
It turns out that the view from the Arc de Triomphe is absolutely GORGEOUS at night:
Sunday began with a trip to the Marché aux Fleurs (the bird and flower market):
We discovered that St. Chapelle was very, very close by... and, since it was the first Sunday of the month, very, very free. I was absolutely floored by the beauty of the stained glass inside:
On account of feeling icky and sickly, I went back to Cité and slept while my sister checked out Les Invalides. We re-convened to wander around the Grand Mosquée of Paris:
After a quick and cheap Chinese takeout dinner, I said goodbye to Justine... for now. I am currently plotting a means and time to sneak out to Berlin in the next two weeks. We'll see, we'll see...
xoxo,
D
Anyway, given my current sleep deficit, I've decided to finally post an update (with pictures!) until my tea cools off. Once my tea reaches a drink-able temperature, I'm heading to bed and waking up hella early in the morning to get this B.A. churned out!
So, this is my weekend in a very, very smushed recap.
Thursday evening, I went to the opera around the Bastille to watch "Madame Butterfly." I spent a good portion of the opera fidgety and nervous, though, because Justine was flying in (1) at night, (2) from an airport that I can't really locate, and (3) would have to make it to my dorm on her (4) non-existent French. To aid her on her journey to Maison du Cambodge, I gave her pages of directions and sent her plenty of pictures of the RER station and buildings around where I live. Long story short, everything worked out and my sister didn't end up sleeping on Parisian streets. Success!
The next morning, I dragged my sister along to my class trip to the Cinémathèque Française. Photos weren't allowed in the building, but I highly recommend going to the museum - among other really awesome things, we saw Mrs. Bates' head! After the museum, we got some terrific Indian food for lunch:
Afterwards, my sister and I went to Montmartre. We popped into the Sacre Coeur (no pictures because I have too damn many as is), the Espace Dali (awesome in its own right - it was like a little piece of the Figueres Dali Museum in Paris!), and took pictures with the Moulin Rouge. For dinner, we went out to fondue in St. Michel:
On Saturday, we went to Versailles. We saw the palace:And the Queen's Hamlet:
As someone who went through a Marie Antoinette obsession in high school, the Queen's Hamlet was pretty much the stuff of dreams! I'm going to restrain myself from putting up more photos, but there are PLENTY in my picasa album!Later that evening, we ate a savory crepe from somewhere in St. Michel... then climbed up the Arc de Triomphe:
It turns out that the view from the Arc de Triomphe is absolutely GORGEOUS at night:Sunday began with a trip to the Marché aux Fleurs (the bird and flower market):
We discovered that St. Chapelle was very, very close by... and, since it was the first Sunday of the month, very, very free. I was absolutely floored by the beauty of the stained glass inside:
On account of feeling icky and sickly, I went back to Cité and slept while my sister checked out Les Invalides. We re-convened to wander around the Grand Mosquée of Paris:
After a quick and cheap Chinese takeout dinner, I said goodbye to Justine... for now. I am currently plotting a means and time to sneak out to Berlin in the next two weeks. We'll see, we'll see...
xoxo,
D
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Procrastination
I'm supposed to be revising my B.A. thesis (which is turning into this gigantic, headache-y, quasi-ridiculous mess), writing up an outline, and writing up 6 pages of my final paper. I'm also supposed to be going to class today. However, given my achy muscles, sniffly nose, and feverish skin, I think I'll be staying in my dorm today so that I can recover/rest before going to the Opera tonight. Boo on you, allergies, boo on you.
What I hate most about feeling under the weather is that I lose all ability to hold a cogent conversation with people. Allergies and class also don't go well together - I feel like I spurt half-thoughts and stupid things. And because I sleep a lot when I'm feeling sick, I feel like I have been kept in a terrible form of self-imposed isolation for the past 3 days. Aside from my physical ills, I suppose I'm going through a bout of homesickness. Rather, people-sickness - when abroad, I tend to miss people way more than I do the random comforts/familiarities of home. I just wish I were awake enough so that I could indulge in little things like gchatting, skypeing, or emailing the people I love.
That said, I think the worst of my allergies is almost over. One of my friends in my program brought a bunch of Claritin with her... even though she doesn't have allergies. Lucky girl for not having allergies; extraordinarily lucky me that she brought Claritin to Paris! This is an especially fortuitous event because the French are waaaay more stringent about selling over-the-counter drugs.
As in... they don't.
So if I wanted any sort of allergy medicine, I'd have to pay about 25 euro to see a doctor (not terrible, but I'd like to hold onto my euro) so that I could get a prescription for Claritin/Zyrtec/some other allergy medicine I'd be able to buy in bulk from Costco. Meh!
Also, my sister is coming to visit this weekend! We have vague, action-packed plans for the next few days, so I'm pretty darn excited. Speaking of which, I'll need to plan this weekend right after posting this...
Krakow re-cap to come later today. Expect plenty of snowy pictures and a lot of beer =)
xoxo,
D
3:44 PM Update: I just named my B.A. "Collecting, Space, and the Dialectics of Memory in W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz and Walter Benjamin’s Berlin Childhood around 1900." Good God, can I sound any more pretentious? More importantly, I need a *way* catchier title...
What I hate most about feeling under the weather is that I lose all ability to hold a cogent conversation with people. Allergies and class also don't go well together - I feel like I spurt half-thoughts and stupid things. And because I sleep a lot when I'm feeling sick, I feel like I have been kept in a terrible form of self-imposed isolation for the past 3 days. Aside from my physical ills, I suppose I'm going through a bout of homesickness. Rather, people-sickness - when abroad, I tend to miss people way more than I do the random comforts/familiarities of home. I just wish I were awake enough so that I could indulge in little things like gchatting, skypeing, or emailing the people I love.
That said, I think the worst of my allergies is almost over. One of my friends in my program brought a bunch of Claritin with her... even though she doesn't have allergies. Lucky girl for not having allergies; extraordinarily lucky me that she brought Claritin to Paris! This is an especially fortuitous event because the French are waaaay more stringent about selling over-the-counter drugs.
As in... they don't.
So if I wanted any sort of allergy medicine, I'd have to pay about 25 euro to see a doctor (not terrible, but I'd like to hold onto my euro) so that I could get a prescription for Claritin/Zyrtec/some other allergy medicine I'd be able to buy in bulk from Costco. Meh!
Also, my sister is coming to visit this weekend! We have vague, action-packed plans for the next few days, so I'm pretty darn excited. Speaking of which, I'll need to plan this weekend right after posting this...
Krakow re-cap to come later today. Expect plenty of snowy pictures and a lot of beer =)
xoxo,
D
3:44 PM Update: I just named my B.A. "Collecting, Space, and the Dialectics of Memory in W.G. Sebald’s Austerlitz and Walter Benjamin’s Berlin Childhood around 1900." Good God, can I sound any more pretentious? More importantly, I need a *way* catchier title...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Achoo!
I have SO MUCH to write about - Krakow adventures, Girona strolls, Barcelona roamings - and *will* write/post pretty pictures in the near future.
However, I am feeling devastatingly light-headed and sneezy at the moment on account of allergies. My allergies are pretty severe - not only do I develop post-nasal drip and sneeze like a mofo, but I run really high temperatures. My personal record is 103.5. Sigh.
Time to pop pills and sleep!
Times like this I really wish I had someone taking care of me. Not going to lie - I would absolutely love a big bowl of chicken noodle soup right now... and someone to tuck me into bed.
xoxo,
D
However, I am feeling devastatingly light-headed and sneezy at the moment on account of allergies. My allergies are pretty severe - not only do I develop post-nasal drip and sneeze like a mofo, but I run really high temperatures. My personal record is 103.5. Sigh.
Time to pop pills and sleep!
Times like this I really wish I had someone taking care of me. Not going to lie - I would absolutely love a big bowl of chicken noodle soup right now... and someone to tuck me into bed.
xoxo,
D
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Getting fat in Girona!
Girona is absolutely fantastic. I just bought a really comfortable & cute black Italian dress for 12 euro and am thrilled by the prospect of further shopping tomorrow. I am also sitting in a food coma induced by a 3 course meal + bottle of wine, a dinner that cost 10 euro (that´s the cost of, like, a savory crepe and drink in Paris!).
I have fallen in love with Girona... and Girona is a wonderful place to fall in love. Way to give Paris a run for its money, Girona!
xoxo,
D
I have fallen in love with Girona... and Girona is a wonderful place to fall in love. Way to give Paris a run for its money, Girona!
xoxo,
D
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Hardcore travel ahead!
I seem to be absolutely terrible at actually updating; lately, when I *do* have something to say, it seems to be a message about taking off for somewhere else. Unfortunately, this post is no exception - my class is leaving for Krakow tomorrow morning (like, really really really early in the morning. I think I'm going to get up at 3am just to make sure I make the flight) and will be returning on Monday. On Tuesday, I'm flying out to Girona, then will eventually make my way to Barcelona for Carnivale.
What scares me is that I have spent about 6 weeks in Paris... and there is still so much I have yet to explore! Perhaps I can convince my conversation group to explore the Grand Mosque today... ironically, we would be exploring a mosque right before heading to a bar. Hmm...
xoxo,
Danica
What scares me is that I have spent about 6 weeks in Paris... and there is still so much I have yet to explore! Perhaps I can convince my conversation group to explore the Grand Mosque today... ironically, we would be exploring a mosque right before heading to a bar. Hmm...
xoxo,
Danica
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Chapter 4: The Eiffel Tower
Chapter 3 was boring - there was too much pish-posh pseudo-academic speech in it.
I marvel at Sebald's ability to write beautifully, sentimentally, despite the high theory steeped into every penned word.
xxx
La Tour Eiffel.
Meaning?
The Eiffel Tower.
Meaning?
A tower built by Gustave Eiffel.
Meaning?
Unknown.
The Eiffel Tower is Paris’ everything and nothing, a beacon of light in the darkness that ultimately leads nowhere. She seems Paris’ pretty bauble – a glittering jewel in the night, an iron spire to the heavens by day. She has no other function than to stand tall and straight and cast-iron pretty among the Parisian clouds.
But without the Tower, what is Paris? The Tower marks Paris, watches Paris, caresses Paris. Without her, the city has no soul. The Parisian panorama is not real without her iron skeleton pressed against the sky. Poets, painters, and artists – all have made, are making, and will make works praising her metal sinews. Lovers cling to her rigid bones as the world shifts in romantic tumult beneath their feet. Entire livings are made through the sale of Tower paraphernalia – the gristle-faced men who hawk miniature replicas of the Tower around Montmartre and St. Michel, the dark-eyed women who sell scarves stamped with the Tower’s image in their shops. To some, she is more than an idea. The simulacrum has become more real than reality.
The Tower is sign, signifier, signified – she answers to no one but herself. It is precisely because she has no meaning that she has come to mean so much. Her emptiness has been filled with the invisible weight of history; time immemorial is held in the hollows of her frame, the iron net of her bones. She is a keeper of the past and, from her heavenly vantage point, a seer of the future. Shadows of memory and nostalgia for the future turn her into a symbol for progress and the capacity to change.
The first time I saw the Eiffel Tower, the city was wet and slick and getting over the rain. She emerged from the mists like the Lady of the Lake: ethereal, ephemeral, splendid. Her swan neck cloaked in the cotton of fog, her legs proud and firmly planted in the ground, she was every inch more majestic than I could have imagined. Only by gazing upon her did I finally feel that, yes, I had arrived in Paris. Here was the tower of dreams, the structure captured time and time again in watercolors, cartoons, film.
Climbing the steps of the Tower sent a shiver through the warm animal of my body. I was a small, nondescript creature making my way through the most intimate parts of her frame. The thrill of the voyeur. My hands touched everything, my flesh sharing in the secrets of history and time and air that had passed through her bones. My eyes reveled in the sight from underneath her iron petticoat. She was an exhibitionist in the truest form. Lavishing in her interior, I realized that, for the first time in Paris, I could put my camera away and drink in the sights without a care in the world. My body no longer had to move like a lateral viewfinder; with all eyes on the Tower, the world had left its defenses down.
At the top of the Tower, I looked down at the Grand Palais, the Arc de Triomphe, the Seine.
At the top of the Tower, I breathed deep and free.
I marvel at Sebald's ability to write beautifully, sentimentally, despite the high theory steeped into every penned word.
xxx
La Tour Eiffel.
Meaning?
The Eiffel Tower.
Meaning?
A tower built by Gustave Eiffel.
Meaning?
Unknown.
The Eiffel Tower is Paris’ everything and nothing, a beacon of light in the darkness that ultimately leads nowhere. She seems Paris’ pretty bauble – a glittering jewel in the night, an iron spire to the heavens by day. She has no other function than to stand tall and straight and cast-iron pretty among the Parisian clouds.
But without the Tower, what is Paris? The Tower marks Paris, watches Paris, caresses Paris. Without her, the city has no soul. The Parisian panorama is not real without her iron skeleton pressed against the sky. Poets, painters, and artists – all have made, are making, and will make works praising her metal sinews. Lovers cling to her rigid bones as the world shifts in romantic tumult beneath their feet. Entire livings are made through the sale of Tower paraphernalia – the gristle-faced men who hawk miniature replicas of the Tower around Montmartre and St. Michel, the dark-eyed women who sell scarves stamped with the Tower’s image in their shops. To some, she is more than an idea. The simulacrum has become more real than reality.
The Tower is sign, signifier, signified – she answers to no one but herself. It is precisely because she has no meaning that she has come to mean so much. Her emptiness has been filled with the invisible weight of history; time immemorial is held in the hollows of her frame, the iron net of her bones. She is a keeper of the past and, from her heavenly vantage point, a seer of the future. Shadows of memory and nostalgia for the future turn her into a symbol for progress and the capacity to change.
The first time I saw the Eiffel Tower, the city was wet and slick and getting over the rain. She emerged from the mists like the Lady of the Lake: ethereal, ephemeral, splendid. Her swan neck cloaked in the cotton of fog, her legs proud and firmly planted in the ground, she was every inch more majestic than I could have imagined. Only by gazing upon her did I finally feel that, yes, I had arrived in Paris. Here was the tower of dreams, the structure captured time and time again in watercolors, cartoons, film.
Climbing the steps of the Tower sent a shiver through the warm animal of my body. I was a small, nondescript creature making my way through the most intimate parts of her frame. The thrill of the voyeur. My hands touched everything, my flesh sharing in the secrets of history and time and air that had passed through her bones. My eyes reveled in the sight from underneath her iron petticoat. She was an exhibitionist in the truest form. Lavishing in her interior, I realized that, for the first time in Paris, I could put my camera away and drink in the sights without a care in the world. My body no longer had to move like a lateral viewfinder; with all eyes on the Tower, the world had left its defenses down.
At the top of the Tower, I looked down at the Grand Palais, the Arc de Triomphe, the Seine.
At the top of the Tower, I breathed deep and free.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Chapter 2: Lovers
In New York City, lovers hold hands through Central Park. Kissing is a daring game – pecks on a frostbitten face to the tune of rattling subway cars, a poorly hidden bout of footsie underneath the tiny tables of Max Brenner’s chocolate shop. Yet, complaints about lovers seem more common than the act of loving; in Starbucks across the city, jaded twenty-somethings declare that “love is dead!” over cups of burnt coffee. A boy once told me that New York’s obsession with flashing lights and adrenaline movements have made it impossible for her people to recognize love. Love is too slow for the Big Apple; love is a well-guarded secret from the people who call NYC home.
Paris may be the City of Lights, but she moves in seductive, deliberate movements across the threshold of space and time. Lovers in the metro do not suffer from frostbitten faces – they kiss openly and defiantly, needing no prompting from the blanket of metro music. Café tables in Paris are even smaller than those in Max Brenner’s chocolate shop; there is no room for footsie, only space to knock knees and bow heads in quiet conversation.
Paris moves easy and slow. She, in fact, cannot move without love – her history is studded with stories of passion, her monuments are markers of first kisses, first loves, first heartbreaks. In history: the tumultuous love of Napoleon and Josephine, the modern day romance of Yvan Attal and Charlotte Gainsbourg that transcends both reality and movie screen. In monuments: markers of first meetings and the passage of love and time.
It begins, perhaps, at the steps of Sacre Coeur. A man with guitar sings Beatles songs about the flutters and thrills of love, drawing crowds of eager hearts to the stairs, to his stage. A boy and girl meet, walk down the steps, wander the streets of Montmartre with nothing but art and passion on their minds. They arrange a meeting for a cold day at the Eiffel Tower and, under the Tower’s gaze, huddle for warmth. The Tower may see huddled infatuation day in and day out, but she never tires of winking at lovers as they leave her grounds and stroll, arm in arm, down cobblestone streets.
Monuments serve as markers of memory, of time, of history, of love - the boy and girl flock to monuments to make their own memories, time, history, love. Each time the boy and girl walk down the stairs from the Sacre Coeur, they pass by an old couple climbing up to the cathedral. Boy and girl, man and woman, young and old – they lock eyes and nod, understanding that in Paris, time has collapsed and that the past and future of love is most easily recognized in the present.
Paris may be the City of Lights, but she moves in seductive, deliberate movements across the threshold of space and time. Lovers in the metro do not suffer from frostbitten faces – they kiss openly and defiantly, needing no prompting from the blanket of metro music. Café tables in Paris are even smaller than those in Max Brenner’s chocolate shop; there is no room for footsie, only space to knock knees and bow heads in quiet conversation.
Paris moves easy and slow. She, in fact, cannot move without love – her history is studded with stories of passion, her monuments are markers of first kisses, first loves, first heartbreaks. In history: the tumultuous love of Napoleon and Josephine, the modern day romance of Yvan Attal and Charlotte Gainsbourg that transcends both reality and movie screen. In monuments: markers of first meetings and the passage of love and time.
It begins, perhaps, at the steps of Sacre Coeur. A man with guitar sings Beatles songs about the flutters and thrills of love, drawing crowds of eager hearts to the stairs, to his stage. A boy and girl meet, walk down the steps, wander the streets of Montmartre with nothing but art and passion on their minds. They arrange a meeting for a cold day at the Eiffel Tower and, under the Tower’s gaze, huddle for warmth. The Tower may see huddled infatuation day in and day out, but she never tires of winking at lovers as they leave her grounds and stroll, arm in arm, down cobblestone streets.
Monuments serve as markers of memory, of time, of history, of love - the boy and girl flock to monuments to make their own memories, time, history, love. Each time the boy and girl walk down the stairs from the Sacre Coeur, they pass by an old couple climbing up to the cathedral. Boy and girl, man and woman, young and old – they lock eyes and nod, understanding that in Paris, time has collapsed and that the past and future of love is most easily recognized in the present.
Monday, February 9, 2009
My Paris
Today, I will start monitoring what I eat - apparently I really *am* getting fat in Paris. Oh dear.
I am too lazy to charge my camera/upload pictures at the moment, so I'm posting part 1 of my photo essay for my last class. Apt timing - I am feeling reflective & nostalgic & sentimental in this city of lights and love. The text gets unwieldy, I know, but the photos are fun.
xxx
My Paris
Chapter One: The Lateral Viewfinder
A girl knows that to see, she must not be seen. Black-kohled eyes are seen as suggestion, as invitation, as invasion – the world changes when it feels a set of pupils running along the curves of its steel-frame body. In fact, the world will not lie still when it knows it is being watched; it deploys the sharp words of old women with angular faces and the forward advances of men in tattered jackets to ward off the threat of the girl’s gaze. Instead, the girl learns to see through black-glass reflections and the zoom function of her camera. It is only when she is perched upon crumbling walls or crouched below the eyes of the crowd that the world lowers its defenses and allows itself to be photographed. Her movements mimic the lateral viewfinder because it is the only way to live in this city.
I am too lazy to charge my camera/upload pictures at the moment, so I'm posting part 1 of my photo essay for my last class. Apt timing - I am feeling reflective & nostalgic & sentimental in this city of lights and love. The text gets unwieldy, I know, but the photos are fun.
xxx
My Paris
Chapter One: The Lateral Viewfinder
A girl knows that to see, she must not be seen. Black-kohled eyes are seen as suggestion, as invitation, as invasion – the world changes when it feels a set of pupils running along the curves of its steel-frame body. In fact, the world will not lie still when it knows it is being watched; it deploys the sharp words of old women with angular faces and the forward advances of men in tattered jackets to ward off the threat of the girl’s gaze. Instead, the girl learns to see through black-glass reflections and the zoom function of her camera. It is only when she is perched upon crumbling walls or crouched below the eyes of the crowd that the world lowers its defenses and allows itself to be photographed. Her movements mimic the lateral viewfinder because it is the only way to live in this city.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
I Miss You. Yes, You.
I’ve recently come to realize how much I value “me” time. Lack of “me” time makes me cranky and awkward and unapologetic, which was precisely why yesterday was an emotional roller coaster for me. Once I got some space to think about why I was in such a bad mood, I also realized that I’m missing all of you very, very, very much. I know that a lot of the people that I’m missing are never going to read this, but it feels good just to get it out there.
So, ironically, “me” time makes me realize how awesome my friends are and how badly I wish that you were here with me.
I’m heading out for sangria later, which means I’m in the process of frantically writing up homework and attempting to nap. My body has decided that not sleeping is fun; after getting back from Footsie (a “stock market” bar. The basic concept is that drink prices increase as drink demand increases. Great concept, but the little screens at the bar = they totally could have executed it better) at 5am this morning, I was up and about at 9:30. Oy.
xoxo & lots of fond memories,
D
So, ironically, “me” time makes me realize how awesome my friends are and how badly I wish that you were here with me.
I’m heading out for sangria later, which means I’m in the process of frantically writing up homework and attempting to nap. My body has decided that not sleeping is fun; after getting back from Footsie (a “stock market” bar. The basic concept is that drink prices increase as drink demand increases. Great concept, but the little screens at the bar = they totally could have executed it better) at 5am this morning, I was up and about at 9:30. Oy.
xoxo & lots of fond memories,
D
Friday, February 6, 2009
Bliss, beer, & books
Paris weather has hit a beautiful 50 degrees. Despite the fact that I am still trying not to hack up a lung (and probably aggravated my lungs by taking a nice, long, much-needed drag yesterday night), I’m feeling a sense of calm and happiness that I haven’t felt in a very, very long time. It’s enough to inspire me to write again; good God, it’s been years since I’ve felt this way. Expect some clumsy pseudo-literary attempts in the near future – I think I’ll be posting my photo essay up over the course of the next few days.
A little incident happened yesterday that could have made yesterday a pretty shoddy day, but everything in Paris has a way of working itself out. Namely, I was supposed to meet my friend, Jordan, for hot chocolate during his one week stay in Paris… and, well, I waited outside the restaurant for 45 minutes, panicking about his well-being, while Jordan was chilling inside the restaurant for 1.5 hours, wondering where in the hell I could be. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to enjoy hot chocolate with Jordan, but decided that since I’d finally dragged myself to Angelina, I wouldn’t let the opportunity for hot chocolate and delicious dessert pass me by. Therefore, I made a call to a certain lovely lady (who goes by the name of Maranda =) ), and did some exploring as I waited for her to make her way to the tearoom. I dropped by Galignani, “the first English book store established on the continent,” and found out that they carry every W.G. Sebald book… except for the one I need for my B.A. Then, around the corner, I found this beautiful church:
By the time Maranda got to Angelina, I was starving and in desperate need of chocolate. We quelled my thirst for chocolate with this beautiful spread:
From Angelina, I went straight to the Académie de la Bière to celebrate a beer-loving friend’s birthday. I had a delicious Hoegaarden Grand Cru, Kriek Saint Louis (a little too much cherry for my taste), and some beer-boiled mussels (so amazing. SO amazing). I don't really have a good picture of the place/us, so just use your imagination =)
I’m about to head out to roam around some bookstores around St. Michel/along the Seine, FINALLY get my Louvre pass, and visit the Alexander Nevski Cathedral. At some point, I’ll need to write up an Amsterdam recap…
xoxo,
D
A little incident happened yesterday that could have made yesterday a pretty shoddy day, but everything in Paris has a way of working itself out. Namely, I was supposed to meet my friend, Jordan, for hot chocolate during his one week stay in Paris… and, well, I waited outside the restaurant for 45 minutes, panicking about his well-being, while Jordan was chilling inside the restaurant for 1.5 hours, wondering where in the hell I could be. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to enjoy hot chocolate with Jordan, but decided that since I’d finally dragged myself to Angelina, I wouldn’t let the opportunity for hot chocolate and delicious dessert pass me by. Therefore, I made a call to a certain lovely lady (who goes by the name of Maranda =) ), and did some exploring as I waited for her to make her way to the tearoom. I dropped by Galignani, “the first English book store established on the continent,” and found out that they carry every W.G. Sebald book… except for the one I need for my B.A. Then, around the corner, I found this beautiful church:
By the time Maranda got to Angelina, I was starving and in desperate need of chocolate. We quelled my thirst for chocolate with this beautiful spread:From Angelina, I went straight to the Académie de la Bière to celebrate a beer-loving friend’s birthday. I had a delicious Hoegaarden Grand Cru, Kriek Saint Louis (a little too much cherry for my taste), and some beer-boiled mussels (so amazing. SO amazing). I don't really have a good picture of the place/us, so just use your imagination =)
I’m about to head out to roam around some bookstores around St. Michel/along the Seine, FINALLY get my Louvre pass, and visit the Alexander Nevski Cathedral. At some point, I’ll need to write up an Amsterdam recap…
xoxo,
D
Monday, February 2, 2009
In need of a hug and an oversized sweatshirt
The combination of another Parisian snow, my current class, and my B.A. are kind of bringing me down. Don't get me wrong - I think my current class (on language, identity, and politics) is amazing and I love my B.A. topics/the critical theory I need to get through, but talking about the Holocaust makes me depressed. Makes anyone depressed, really.
For class, I am reading a book called "The Language of the Third Reich" by Victor Klemperer, a philologist who survived the Holocaust and maintained a diary/academic work about how the Nazi language infiltrated every crevice of German language. I think it is one of the most beautiful and most melancholic things I have ever read; he reminds me a lot of Walter Benjamin (not surprising. Same time, same emotions, same hurt over a poisoned Europe).
I leave for Krakow at the end of next week, which I am looking forward to and absolutely dreading: we will be visiting Auschwitz on February 13 (day before Valentine's day. That's some dark, terrible humor for you), and I'm not really sure how my class will handle it. I feel like visiting sites of tragedy is an intensely personal thing; I'm not sure how traveling in a group will pan out.
My B.A. has turned into a study of how Benjamin's "Berlin Childhood Around 1900" is echoed/is not echoed by W.G. Sebald's "Austerlitz." They are both beautifully written and stained with the black bile of horror and broken dreams. Benjamin was forced to flee Berlin when Hitler came to power (before then, really). Austerlitz, the protagonist of "Austerlitz," is a man who slowly pieces together a scarred and terrible past; he survived the Holocaust because of the kindertransport, his parents did not.
I need to study for my French midterm now, but I can't shake the dull ache in my chest after reading so much depressing literature. What I need: a hug (a real, good hug) and a warm, oversized sweatshirt. Maybe some hot chocolate.
For class, I am reading a book called "The Language of the Third Reich" by Victor Klemperer, a philologist who survived the Holocaust and maintained a diary/academic work about how the Nazi language infiltrated every crevice of German language. I think it is one of the most beautiful and most melancholic things I have ever read; he reminds me a lot of Walter Benjamin (not surprising. Same time, same emotions, same hurt over a poisoned Europe).
I leave for Krakow at the end of next week, which I am looking forward to and absolutely dreading: we will be visiting Auschwitz on February 13 (day before Valentine's day. That's some dark, terrible humor for you), and I'm not really sure how my class will handle it. I feel like visiting sites of tragedy is an intensely personal thing; I'm not sure how traveling in a group will pan out.
My B.A. has turned into a study of how Benjamin's "Berlin Childhood Around 1900" is echoed/is not echoed by W.G. Sebald's "Austerlitz." They are both beautifully written and stained with the black bile of horror and broken dreams. Benjamin was forced to flee Berlin when Hitler came to power (before then, really). Austerlitz, the protagonist of "Austerlitz," is a man who slowly pieces together a scarred and terrible past; he survived the Holocaust because of the kindertransport, his parents did not.
I need to study for my French midterm now, but I can't shake the dull ache in my chest after reading so much depressing literature. What I need: a hug (a real, good hug) and a warm, oversized sweatshirt. Maybe some hot chocolate.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Aaaamsterdam!
I just finished 2 papers, a long chalk post, part of my French homework, and a huuuuuge email about life decisions/academia.
This means I'm reading an entire book, coming up with a B.A. thesis, and finishing the REST of my French homework during my weekend in AMSTERDAM.
SO MUCH TO DO, SO LITTLE TIME!
And, yes, I'm still sort of recovering from being sick.
This means I'm reading an entire book, coming up with a B.A. thesis, and finishing the REST of my French homework during my weekend in AMSTERDAM.
SO MUCH TO DO, SO LITTLE TIME!
And, yes, I'm still sort of recovering from being sick.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tendonitis, cha-cha-cha!
A lot has happened.
I have not blogged.
This silence is partially due to the fact that I have a ton of B.A. work ahead, am writing a photo essay for class, and, oh yes, am sick.
Sickness in Paris? SACRE BLEU! I'd just like to point out that I managed to spend 2 months in Beijing and NOT get sick (well, until the very end... when I was 99% sure that I'd contracted SARS). However, one month of Paris and my body has begun to give out. Yeeesh.
To be more precise, I managed to irritate a tendon in my left foot while I was IN BRUGES (God, that's never going to get old), so I've been limping around Paris like the suave temptress I am. My newly acquired nicknames from the weekend are "hop-along" and "gimpy." On top of that, I started coming down with something in the middle of class today, which seems to consist of a fever, chills, aching muscles, a sore throat, and nonstop hunger. To counter my bodily breakdown, I made a massive vat of napa cabbage/mushroom/spinach/egg soup and am consuming said vat as I type. With any luck, I'll be up and running tomorrow... so I can walk to the center on account of a massive transit strike!
As much as it sounds like Paris is sucking right now, it really isn't. My faith in humanity has been more or less restored in the past few days - I think there is something about being in Paris that brings out the best in people. Rather, something about not being super-stressed out in Chicago that brings out the best in people. I mean, people have been really, really awesome about helping me carry things, finding an English speaking foot doctor, locating a foot/ankle brace, giving me drugs (of the anti-inflammatory kind!), buying me hot chocolate, offering to help me get home... I've only known most of these people for a month, but I'm really touched that I've been offered this much help. That said, I hate being dependent on people (or, rather, feeling dependent), so I guess I've learned that I'm still made of the tough stuff that got me through some really brutal times (e.g. fencing bouts with a bum knee, a messed up ankle, a couple of arm slashes, and 3 hours of sleep).
Time to turn my current verbosity into something more productive... and finish up that photo essay. I might end up posting my essay on this blog - it's been a while since I've written something creative, and I think my final product will best demonstrate how I feel about Paris. Maybe. Perhaps. At least it will have pretty pictures!
xoxo,
D
I have not blogged.
This silence is partially due to the fact that I have a ton of B.A. work ahead, am writing a photo essay for class, and, oh yes, am sick.
Sickness in Paris? SACRE BLEU! I'd just like to point out that I managed to spend 2 months in Beijing and NOT get sick (well, until the very end... when I was 99% sure that I'd contracted SARS). However, one month of Paris and my body has begun to give out. Yeeesh.
To be more precise, I managed to irritate a tendon in my left foot while I was IN BRUGES (God, that's never going to get old), so I've been limping around Paris like the suave temptress I am. My newly acquired nicknames from the weekend are "hop-along" and "gimpy." On top of that, I started coming down with something in the middle of class today, which seems to consist of a fever, chills, aching muscles, a sore throat, and nonstop hunger. To counter my bodily breakdown, I made a massive vat of napa cabbage/mushroom/spinach/egg soup and am consuming said vat as I type. With any luck, I'll be up and running tomorrow... so I can walk to the center on account of a massive transit strike!
As much as it sounds like Paris is sucking right now, it really isn't. My faith in humanity has been more or less restored in the past few days - I think there is something about being in Paris that brings out the best in people. Rather, something about not being super-stressed out in Chicago that brings out the best in people. I mean, people have been really, really awesome about helping me carry things, finding an English speaking foot doctor, locating a foot/ankle brace, giving me drugs (of the anti-inflammatory kind!), buying me hot chocolate, offering to help me get home... I've only known most of these people for a month, but I'm really touched that I've been offered this much help. That said, I hate being dependent on people (or, rather, feeling dependent), so I guess I've learned that I'm still made of the tough stuff that got me through some really brutal times (e.g. fencing bouts with a bum knee, a messed up ankle, a couple of arm slashes, and 3 hours of sleep).
Time to turn my current verbosity into something more productive... and finish up that photo essay. I might end up posting my essay on this blog - it's been a while since I've written something creative, and I think my final product will best demonstrate how I feel about Paris. Maybe. Perhaps. At least it will have pretty pictures!
xoxo,
D
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Mmmm!
I just made a batch of this stuff: http://www.ciao.fr/Tipiak_Meli_Melo_gourmand__1080391
and it is SO DAMN TASTY! Not to mention cheap. I think I have found a new staple food!
Speaking of delicious things, I'm heading to Belgium tomorrow. I still need to figure out how to get to Bruges (and, um, watch "In Bruges"), but I'm looking forward to a weekend of waffles, chocolate, and beer!
xoxo,
D
and it is SO DAMN TASTY! Not to mention cheap. I think I have found a new staple food!
Speaking of delicious things, I'm heading to Belgium tomorrow. I still need to figure out how to get to Bruges (and, um, watch "In Bruges"), but I'm looking forward to a weekend of waffles, chocolate, and beer!
xoxo,
D
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Things I want to do in Paris!
Before I left for Paris, I asked many of you for Paris-must-do recommendations - thank you! I am so excited to follow your suggestions... though I have to admit that, since there are so many of them, I've been having a lot of trouble keeping things in mind. Which brings me to this post.
Although, I've just spent 2 weeks in Paris, I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of all that the city has to offer. My classes don't start until 1pm, which is fantastic in terms of sleeping in (if I ever slept in) but not-so-great in terms of being able to wander. The fact that I also need to post for class DAILY is also severely cramping my style. I'm going to have to start planning way ahead in order to get everything I want to do into my short time here... which is what this list is for!
Please feel free to leave comments if there is anything else you think I should do and/or if you want to come with!
Monuments & Historic sites
xoxo,
D
p.s. Because Blogger doesn't really allow you create static pages, I've decided to quasi-mess with the system and kind of test this page as a static one. Check out the link on the right side for easy access to this post =)
Although, I've just spent 2 weeks in Paris, I feel like I've barely scratched the surface of all that the city has to offer. My classes don't start until 1pm, which is fantastic in terms of sleeping in (if I ever slept in) but not-so-great in terms of being able to wander. The fact that I also need to post for class DAILY is also severely cramping my style. I'm going to have to start planning way ahead in order to get everything I want to do into my short time here... which is what this list is for!
Please feel free to leave comments if there is anything else you think I should do and/or if you want to come with!
Monuments & Historic sites
Arc de TriompheSuccess!!: February 28, 2009- Actually take a tour of the Garnier Opera House
The CatacombesSuccess!!: March 6, 2009Spend a day at VersaillesSuccess!!: February 28, 2009Spend an afternoon at the Cimetière de Montparnasse (and figure out where Baudelaire and Maupaussant are buried!)Success!!: March 6, 2009Visit Victor Hugo's home =)Success!!: March 17, 2009
Wander around the LouvreSuccess!!: March 14, 2009- Spend more time at the Musée D'Orsay
- Musée Picasso
- Musée de l'Erotisme (I still haven't checked out the Museum of Sex back home)
- Musée Rodin (recommended by Jessie)
Musée CarnavaletSuccess!!: March 17, 2009Museum of Jewish Art and HistorySuccess!!: March 15, 2009Les InvalidesSuccess!!: March 16, 2009
- Check out the really huge produce market in Belleville
- Head to Le Marché des Enfants Rouges
Eat a savory crepe, preferably around the Latin Quarter, where the food seems more plentiful and cheapSuccess!!: Multiple times. Muuultiple times.Mint tea, baklava, and Turkish delight at La Grand Mosquée (recommended by Elspeth)Success!!: March 1, 2009 (Kind of. Tea and food is yet to happen)Eat at the Flora Danica (Ah, narcissism! Also, recommended by Shashi)Success!!: In lieu of spending money I don't have, I took a picture with the restaurant on February 28, 2009Cookies, cake, and hot chocolate at Angelina's Tearoom (recommended by Sydney)Success!!: February 5, 2009- Ice cream at Chez Berthillon
Marcarons at La Durée (recommended by Elspeth)Success!!: March 16, 2009Have tea at Mariage FrèresSuccess!!: February 6, 2009
The Frog & British Library (recommended by Jessie)Success!!: February 4, 2009 (I might want to check out the other branches of the Frog, though...)- Drink absinthe... somewhere (Els, I can't seem to find the absinthe place you went to online!)
- Culture-Biere (recommended by Kate)
- Ladies night (Wednesday) at Le Queen
- Ladies night (Friday) at La Loco
- Go aboard Le Batofar
- Take advantage of being an international student to head to Six Seven sans cover
- Head to Rex and enjoy, um, minimalist electronica
- Figure out when Cab is pushing no cover
The Bootlegger - home of lots and lots of beerSuccess!!: January 22, 2009Shakespeare & Company - otherwise known as bookstore porn. Oh boy!Success!!: January 19, 2009Snap a shot of the Moulin Rouge... but not pay the exorbitant fees to get insideSuccess!!: February 27, 2009Head to Chinatown for the parade on New Year (January 31)Fail? I was in Amsterdam that weekend... which makes January 31st itself a SUCCESS!!- Watch a movie in La Pagode (recommended by Elspeth)
xoxo,
D
p.s. Because Blogger doesn't really allow you create static pages, I've decided to quasi-mess with the system and kind of test this page as a static one. Check out the link on the right side for easy access to this post =)
Friday, January 16, 2009
The day of the museum death march and other stories
I'm pretty much failing at blogging regularly, largely due to the fact that my professor is crazy and assigns 200-250 pages of reading a night. That said, there is just way too much to do and explore in Paris – even without my professor's crazy amounts of work (and the additional fun of writing a B.A.), I'd probably be in the same boat.. I constantly feel overwhelmed (in a good way!); the downside to this inundation of sense and sound is that I feel like I have no time to process what is going on around me.
Before coming to Paris, I meant to create an experimental-writing-type blog to, well, mimic or ventriloquize Walter Benjamin. By writing like Benjamin, I hoped to parse out my thoughts about childhood/nostalgia/modernity/Paris/urban environments... but, well, I started said blog a few days ago, and the first entry is a poorly written Benjamin biography. With any luck, I'll actually get this second blog off the ground (easily accessible through my profile page; I'll plug it when I have more interesting stuff written. That is, if you feel like you can put up with my Benjamin-obsession and my not-so-lucid writing).
Anyway, I'm going to attempt to summarize my past week in pictures!
Last week, my friend and I went to L'as du Fallafel.
Located in Marais, L'as du Fallafel is Lenny Kravitz's favorite falafel place. The first time I went, I wasn't all that hungry; besides, I thought that French falafel probably couldn't stack up to some good ol' New York falafel. Boy, was I wrong! The falafel from L'as du Fallafel is way different than the falafel I'm used to – the falafel themselves are made of more finely ground ingredients, and the sandwich version of the falafel is filled with fried eggplant and lightly pickled cabbage – and is absolutely delightful! I think, perhaps, because I have an unhealthy love of eggplant. I went back to Marais on Tuesday morning in an attempt to buy 8 euro boots (would have worked too, if not for my huge calves. Four years of fencing make it pretty impossible to buy well-fitted boots), and ended up with this:
The Maccabee beer sold at the restaurant is also absolutely DELICIOUS. According to wikipedia, Maccabee is also sold in the States. You have no idea how happy this makes me.
On Wednesday, we headed over to a pub... so that I could complete my homework assignment. Yes, that's right. For French this Tuesday, I have to give a presentation on a bar and, uh, what could be more French than a British pub? Righto. I missed (and still miss) beer. We ended up at the Frog in Bercy Village, a lovely little (ok, not so little) establishment that was once a wine cellar. The Frog is actually a chain of pubs located around France, and each branch of the Frog chain has a different character (largely due to the different locales and architecture of each branch):
I think that I'll be making a trip out to a different bar every Wednesday... except for this Wednesday, when I'll need to be huddled in my room, reading and preparing for a class presentation-thing. I'd also like to add that Bercy Village is so very, very charming. Things seem a bit overpriced and touristy, but given how quaint and adorable the area is, I'm pretty sure I'll be spending a lot more time in Bercy Village. Besides, happy hour makes the impact a wee bit lighter on the wallet!
Thursday afternoon involved some school-sponsored drinking, otherwise known as the “cheese and wine reception.” Reception my ass. We were basically fed some AMAZING cheese and some very, very yummy wine. Rather, we nibbled on cheese and drank about 5 glasses of wine each. I finished off some of my friend's glasses because, well, you just can't let good wine go to waste!
I walked out of the tasting with a few new cheesy favorites. My favorite of the afternoon was the Corsica cheese, which is apparently called Fleur du Maquis (or Brindamour or Brin d'Amour. I spent a lot of time figuring this out). During the course of writing this entry, I have also discovered the existence of an online cheese encyclopedia. Again, indescribable happiness!
Thursday night involved another night at Mix. We missed the midnight no cover deadline by 2 seconds (we were the first people who had to pay the stupid cover. Ugh. This means I'll be eating hella ramen for a while), but despite the unexpected need to pay (girls shouldn't have to pay for anything at a club!), we had fun. Granted, a bunch of skeevy European men tried to hit on me (see previous post) and I had to, uh, resort to giving one a fake name so I could get him to stop talking to me. Anyway, I need to figure out when/where other international students or ladies nights take place...
After getting back from the club at 4am, I woke up at 8 because I just couldn't sleep. My professor decided to take us to the Musée Maillol AND the Pompidou today, resulting in a 7 hour museum death march. I love museums but really, really hate going to more than one museum a day AND feeling rushed about it – I think that the point of museums is to observe and contemplate, which really doesn't happen when you're being herded from one room to the next/your feet are KILLING you.
We were supposed to go out to Le Queen tonight (hooray for gay clubs!), but due to extreme fatigue (otherwise known as I don't sleep. Like, ever), I ended up staying in. Besides, we just found out that La Loco doesn't charge ladies a cover fee on Friday nights; I guess we'll pop over to Queen during one of their ladies nights to save on cash. Tomorrow will involve some sort of fun deal after a full day of reading, writing, and shopping. Again, Paris, you are awesome!
xoxo,
D
Before coming to Paris, I meant to create an experimental-writing-type blog to, well, mimic or ventriloquize Walter Benjamin. By writing like Benjamin, I hoped to parse out my thoughts about childhood/nostalgia/modernity/Paris/urban environments... but, well, I started said blog a few days ago, and the first entry is a poorly written Benjamin biography. With any luck, I'll actually get this second blog off the ground (easily accessible through my profile page; I'll plug it when I have more interesting stuff written. That is, if you feel like you can put up with my Benjamin-obsession and my not-so-lucid writing).
Anyway, I'm going to attempt to summarize my past week in pictures!
Last week, my friend and I went to L'as du Fallafel.
Located in Marais, L'as du Fallafel is Lenny Kravitz's favorite falafel place. The first time I went, I wasn't all that hungry; besides, I thought that French falafel probably couldn't stack up to some good ol' New York falafel. Boy, was I wrong! The falafel from L'as du Fallafel is way different than the falafel I'm used to – the falafel themselves are made of more finely ground ingredients, and the sandwich version of the falafel is filled with fried eggplant and lightly pickled cabbage – and is absolutely delightful! I think, perhaps, because I have an unhealthy love of eggplant. I went back to Marais on Tuesday morning in an attempt to buy 8 euro boots (would have worked too, if not for my huge calves. Four years of fencing make it pretty impossible to buy well-fitted boots), and ended up with this:The Maccabee beer sold at the restaurant is also absolutely DELICIOUS. According to wikipedia, Maccabee is also sold in the States. You have no idea how happy this makes me.On Wednesday, we headed over to a pub... so that I could complete my homework assignment. Yes, that's right. For French this Tuesday, I have to give a presentation on a bar and, uh, what could be more French than a British pub? Righto. I missed (and still miss) beer. We ended up at the Frog in Bercy Village, a lovely little (ok, not so little) establishment that was once a wine cellar. The Frog is actually a chain of pubs located around France, and each branch of the Frog chain has a different character (largely due to the different locales and architecture of each branch):
I think that I'll be making a trip out to a different bar every Wednesday... except for this Wednesday, when I'll need to be huddled in my room, reading and preparing for a class presentation-thing. I'd also like to add that Bercy Village is so very, very charming. Things seem a bit overpriced and touristy, but given how quaint and adorable the area is, I'm pretty sure I'll be spending a lot more time in Bercy Village. Besides, happy hour makes the impact a wee bit lighter on the wallet!
Thursday afternoon involved some school-sponsored drinking, otherwise known as the “cheese and wine reception.” Reception my ass. We were basically fed some AMAZING cheese and some very, very yummy wine. Rather, we nibbled on cheese and drank about 5 glasses of wine each. I finished off some of my friend's glasses because, well, you just can't let good wine go to waste!
I walked out of the tasting with a few new cheesy favorites. My favorite of the afternoon was the Corsica cheese, which is apparently called Fleur du Maquis (or Brindamour or Brin d'Amour. I spent a lot of time figuring this out). During the course of writing this entry, I have also discovered the existence of an online cheese encyclopedia. Again, indescribable happiness!Thursday night involved another night at Mix. We missed the midnight no cover deadline by 2 seconds (we were the first people who had to pay the stupid cover. Ugh. This means I'll be eating hella ramen for a while), but despite the unexpected need to pay (girls shouldn't have to pay for anything at a club!), we had fun. Granted, a bunch of skeevy European men tried to hit on me (see previous post) and I had to, uh, resort to giving one a fake name so I could get him to stop talking to me. Anyway, I need to figure out when/where other international students or ladies nights take place...
After getting back from the club at 4am, I woke up at 8 because I just couldn't sleep. My professor decided to take us to the Musée Maillol AND the Pompidou today, resulting in a 7 hour museum death march. I love museums but really, really hate going to more than one museum a day AND feeling rushed about it – I think that the point of museums is to observe and contemplate, which really doesn't happen when you're being herded from one room to the next/your feet are KILLING you.
We were supposed to go out to Le Queen tonight (hooray for gay clubs!), but due to extreme fatigue (otherwise known as I don't sleep. Like, ever), I ended up staying in. Besides, we just found out that La Loco doesn't charge ladies a cover fee on Friday nights; I guess we'll pop over to Queen during one of their ladies nights to save on cash. Tomorrow will involve some sort of fun deal after a full day of reading, writing, and shopping. Again, Paris, you are awesome!
xoxo,
D
Eurotrashy
I promise an actual post in the near future, though I'm getting the feeling that I might have to back-populate given the massive amount of pictures I've taken. I meant for this blog to be a near-daily chronicle, but as it turns out, blog-able things tend to happen in sporadic spurts.
One thing I will say: European men are SO, SO, SO forward. A quick glance or, well, a pretty obvious attempt to ignore them is a green light in their eyes. Whether a 30-year-old men trying to, uh, take me on a tour of cité/have dinner with me/invite to me his home in Marseilles... or a skeevy, skeevy law student asking for my number (he asked for my facebook after I told him I didn't have a phone. Then I gave him a fake name)... well, I bet I'll have some interesting stories by the time I get back to the states. Perhaps my professor summed it up best:
"I was wandering through the arcades and took a wrong turn into some small alley. This guy came up to me - I couldn't tell if he was asking me if I wanted a husband or if I wanted hashish."
One thing I will say: European men are SO, SO, SO forward. A quick glance or, well, a pretty obvious attempt to ignore them is a green light in their eyes. Whether a 30-year-old men trying to, uh, take me on a tour of cité/have dinner with me/invite to me his home in Marseilles... or a skeevy, skeevy law student asking for my number (he asked for my facebook after I told him I didn't have a phone. Then I gave him a fake name)... well, I bet I'll have some interesting stories by the time I get back to the states. Perhaps my professor summed it up best:
"I was wandering through the arcades and took a wrong turn into some small alley. This guy came up to me - I couldn't tell if he was asking me if I wanted a husband or if I wanted hashish."
Saturday, January 10, 2009
I can sleep when I'm dead!
Today I went to Montmartre. And it was amazing.
But first, let me back this story up.
As it turns out, my ability to run on little-to-no sleep is pretty darn useful when it comes to making time to explore other countries. After a kind of ridiculous night involving one normal bottle of wine, one economy-sized bottle of wine, pudding glasses, and Club Mix (otherwise known as "Jackie is incredibly popular among French men"), I got back to my room at about 4:30am.
At 10:00am, I woke up to the heavy beats of terrible Euro-techno.
My next door neighbor must have brought a subwoofer to Cité - I have no idea how else his music gets that LOUD. Unfortunately, I don't really know how to tell him to turn it down, given that my grasp of French is pretty poor. I'm thinking of launching my own aural assault to counter his music, but we'll see how that goes.
But despite the lack of sleep, Montmartre was AMAZING from the moment we stepped out of the metro. I wish I had a picture of this, but I bought a ridiculously long ham/egg/tomato baguette/sandwich for 3 euro. Granted, the sandwich didn't sit too well with the many, many steps we climbed to get to the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur:
However, a wonderful surprise was waiting at the top of the stairs:
I'm 99% sure that those funny little tiled things are SPACE INVADERS, which fills me with so very much glee! A little to the left of the space invaders was Sacre-Coeur itself:
And on the steps of Sacre-Coeur was a HUGE crowd listening to a very talented singer/guitarist play Beatles songs. No joke, this guy was good:
We wandered around Montmartre and saw artists in action:
And lots of charming shops:
We attempted to find the Moulin Rouge afterwards, but ended up doing some heavy-duty shopping instead. Montmartre, it turns out, is filled with small shops that offer more-than-reasonable prices. For instance, one of my friends bought a pair of boots for 15 euro, while another bought a pair of boots (that look almost identical to my $60 Chinese Laundry boots) for 20 euro. Hours of shopping - and not wanting to wander the red light district in the dark - made us abandon the Moulin Rouge quest for now, but believe me, we will be firmly planted in front of the Moulin Rouge within the month!
For dinner, we headed over to Chinatown. And, let me tell you, Chinatown is HUGE and rife with HUGE supermarkets! Ah, it reminds me of home =) I had an epic amount of pho tonight at this little restaurant:
And have been chilling out in my building - swathed in fleece and comfort - since coming back home. The only thing I regret is not buying a bottle of wine for tonight, but given yesterday night's activities, I suppose it's a good thing that my liver is getting a break!
With that, I'm finally going to bed. Bonne nuit!
xoxo,
Danica
But first, let me back this story up.
As it turns out, my ability to run on little-to-no sleep is pretty darn useful when it comes to making time to explore other countries. After a kind of ridiculous night involving one normal bottle of wine, one economy-sized bottle of wine, pudding glasses, and Club Mix (otherwise known as "Jackie is incredibly popular among French men"), I got back to my room at about 4:30am.
At 10:00am, I woke up to the heavy beats of terrible Euro-techno.
My next door neighbor must have brought a subwoofer to Cité - I have no idea how else his music gets that LOUD. Unfortunately, I don't really know how to tell him to turn it down, given that my grasp of French is pretty poor. I'm thinking of launching my own aural assault to counter his music, but we'll see how that goes.
But despite the lack of sleep, Montmartre was AMAZING from the moment we stepped out of the metro. I wish I had a picture of this, but I bought a ridiculously long ham/egg/tomato baguette/sandwich for 3 euro. Granted, the sandwich didn't sit too well with the many, many steps we climbed to get to the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur:
However, a wonderful surprise was waiting at the top of the stairs:
I'm 99% sure that those funny little tiled things are SPACE INVADERS, which fills me with so very much glee! A little to the left of the space invaders was Sacre-Coeur itself:
And on the steps of Sacre-Coeur was a HUGE crowd listening to a very talented singer/guitarist play Beatles songs. No joke, this guy was good:We wandered around Montmartre and saw artists in action:
And lots of charming shops:We attempted to find the Moulin Rouge afterwards, but ended up doing some heavy-duty shopping instead. Montmartre, it turns out, is filled with small shops that offer more-than-reasonable prices. For instance, one of my friends bought a pair of boots for 15 euro, while another bought a pair of boots (that look almost identical to my $60 Chinese Laundry boots) for 20 euro. Hours of shopping - and not wanting to wander the red light district in the dark - made us abandon the Moulin Rouge quest for now, but believe me, we will be firmly planted in front of the Moulin Rouge within the month!For dinner, we headed over to Chinatown. And, let me tell you, Chinatown is HUGE and rife with HUGE supermarkets! Ah, it reminds me of home =) I had an epic amount of pho tonight at this little restaurant:
And have been chilling out in my building - swathed in fleece and comfort - since coming back home. The only thing I regret is not buying a bottle of wine for tonight, but given yesterday night's activities, I suppose it's a good thing that my liver is getting a break!With that, I'm finally going to bed. Bonne nuit!
xoxo,
Danica
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
A little taste of home
Today, the sales - les soldes - began. There are two huge sales in Paris: one in the summer (not too helpful) and one in the winter (SCORE!). Seeing as I am in desperate need of sweaters and a pair of normal walking shoes, I think I'll be hitting up some stores in the very, very near future.
A short-ish post for a small adventure:
I think my entire class has completely abandoned any hope of finishing our nightly readings. I mean, if I wanted to sit and read 200 pages a night in my room, I could have just stayed in Chicago, right? In order to see more of Paris AND attempt to do work, I decided to scope out neat study spaces; this afternoon, I wanted to check out the Pompidou's public reference library to see if it was an acceptable reading space. However, my stomach - rather, our stomachs = got the best of us and we ended up searching for food.
And we found... McDonald's!
The inside was actually ridiculously chic - the McDonald's that I have seen in Paris look kind of like Apple stores (i.e. huge glass windows and sparkly white insides). I absolutely LOVE figuring out what's on the "dollar menu" at McD's around the world. For instance, in the Philippines, McD's features 8 peso (or was it 64? I forget the conversion rate from 4 years ago) garlic rice, as well as hard-shell ube and cheese ice cream. In China, there were these awesome taro-filled pie sticks. It appears that the French 0.95 euro menu is kind of sparse:
However, there is an ENTIRE DESSERT MENU:
I ordered the thing on the bottom row, second from the right. It turned out to be an apple/pear/chocolate crumble, and although it was probably oozing chemicals (oh McD's), it was absolutely delicious:
My sister finally posted her pictures, so I'm going to retroactively post at some point so I can put up pretty pictures of Paris on New Year's Eve! Until then, I'm going to experiment to see if I can pull photos from my sister's Picasa account (apparently, I can!)...
...here's lookin' at you, kid =)
xoxo (from the Paris metro),
D
A short-ish post for a small adventure:
I think my entire class has completely abandoned any hope of finishing our nightly readings. I mean, if I wanted to sit and read 200 pages a night in my room, I could have just stayed in Chicago, right? In order to see more of Paris AND attempt to do work, I decided to scope out neat study spaces; this afternoon, I wanted to check out the Pompidou's public reference library to see if it was an acceptable reading space. However, my stomach - rather, our stomachs = got the best of us and we ended up searching for food.
And we found... McDonald's!
The inside was actually ridiculously chic - the McDonald's that I have seen in Paris look kind of like Apple stores (i.e. huge glass windows and sparkly white insides). I absolutely LOVE figuring out what's on the "dollar menu" at McD's around the world. For instance, in the Philippines, McD's features 8 peso (or was it 64? I forget the conversion rate from 4 years ago) garlic rice, as well as hard-shell ube and cheese ice cream. In China, there were these awesome taro-filled pie sticks. It appears that the French 0.95 euro menu is kind of sparse:However, there is an ENTIRE DESSERT MENU:I ordered the thing on the bottom row, second from the right. It turned out to be an apple/pear/chocolate crumble, and although it was probably oozing chemicals (oh McD's), it was absolutely delicious:My sister finally posted her pictures, so I'm going to retroactively post at some point so I can put up pretty pictures of Paris on New Year's Eve! Until then, I'm going to experiment to see if I can pull photos from my sister's Picasa account (apparently, I can!)......here's lookin' at you, kid =)
xoxo (from the Paris metro),D
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