Le Marais

This morning, I had a "Somewhere in Time" moment. I was looking through my purse, and I came across a $20 bill. Luckily, traveling to Europe isn't exactly the same as what Christopher Reeve did in that movie, so seeing the American money didn't destroy the French illusion in my mind. That would have been disappointing - to have to go back before seeing the Jewish/gay quarter!

This is a picture of the little kids learning how to ice skate (see the next paragraph)

So, Le Marais. It is one of the oldest areas in Paris. Michel was so knowledgeable that I feel as though it's my duty to share everything he said with whoever reads this blog. We started at La Place de l'Hôtel de Ville, where there’s an ice skating rink. Alexandra and I watched the adorable little kids skating around, trying to touch their instructor, who ended up saying “Me touchez, ne me poussez pas!” (Touch me, don’t push me!) Then, Michel showed up, wasn't the slightest bit surprised at seeing Alexandra (because she had apparently told him already that we knew each other!), and started the tour. Michel started by telling us that the whole area was created when Paris started to expand beyond the two islands in the middle of the Seine. The kings started building huge castles on the banks of the river (like the Louvre and the castle at this place). But, all the land was swampy (the French word for swamp is “marais”) so they took sand and stone to dry the land up so they could build. This type of stone was called “grève” and when the workers would refuse to carry any more, they would “faire la grève” or go on strike. So, the area was originally called La Place de Grève, which some may recognize as the famous spot in Notre-Dame de Paris (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) by Victor Hugo where Esméralda was hanged. Quasimodo and Frollo watched from Notre-Dame, which is right near there, and when Frollo told Quasimodo that he had caught the gypsy girl, Quasimodo pushed him off the top of the tower. Anyway, La Place de Grève was also where nobles were guillotined during the French Revolution (1789). So, that’s why they built the ice skating rink – the kids wear little blades on their feet. After Michel told us that, I definitely didn’t want to ice skate anymore…

This is the ice skating rink again, and the pretty building behind it.

These are houses from the Middle Ages.

Our trip through Le Marais was in chronological order. We started by walking by buildings from the Middle Ages (they’re easy to recognize because they’re not perfectly straight, have a lot of wooden supports on the outside, and are narrow), then moved on to Renaissance houses (which have paved entryways so the horse hooves could announce visitors and then a private outdoor area with geometrically perfect gardens in the spirit of Descartes!), then onto slightly later times with Louis XIII’s square (La Place Royale – renamed La Place des Vosges due to the Revolution) and then, finally, Le Marais.

This is the house from the Renaissance - note the "Cartesian" garden

I forgot to mention the Great Wall of Paris. They don't really call it that, but I think that name captures the essential idea. One of the kings during the Middle Ages had to leave to go on a crusade, and was afraid that Paris might be attacked during his absence. So, he built a wall around the city. The important thing about this wall is that it's not around the islands - it's actually on the banks. So, it was the first time someone thought of Paris as expanding beyond the river. 

The wall that was supposed to protect Paris. 

Le Marais is filled with Jews and gays, but I didn’t see any gays (then again, they aren’t always as obvious as the Jews). They don’t have signs on their buildings proclaiming that they’re gay, whereas the Jews have Hebrew signs everywhere. It was a great area, though. Everything was open on a Sunday, including a place where Alexandra and I got some great falafel (l’As de Falafel or The Ace of Falafel). And, we talked to Michel about the strange movie that he had Alexandra’s class watch for her class. When neither of us would give him a straight answer about how we liked the film, he admitted that, since he was supposed to tell them to see movies in theaters, if there weren’t any good movies out at the time of the class, then he was forced to tell them to see a bad one – so yes, he agreed that the movie was horrible!

The "I'm Jewish" labels were all over Le Marais.

This is enough of an entry for today. I want to go to bed now so I can get a good night’s sleep before my entrance tomorrow into the French educational system, starting with l’ENS, the hardest school here! And, after my course, I’m going to meet Justine in La Cour aux Ernests (the courtyard with the fish) for lunch. Hopefully, I’ll really feel like a French student! Then again, I’m being very French right now – I’m going to bed before the Superbowl even starts. 

Montmartre

Today, we had a walk around Montmartre with Sabrina (the language professor of the Group 2 kids). Montmartre is adorable - with the cobblestones, and the shops, and, of course, Sacré Coeur. The entire area is one of the oldest in Paris, and Sabrina told us a few cute stories. Here's one: the Bistro was invented there. Bistro is a Russian word that means "hurry up," so one day, Russians came in and said "bistro! bistro!" and they got served a very quick meal. Now, Bistro means a restaurant where you can get a quick meal. That's the restaurant: Maison Catherine. 

This is where they invented the term "Bistro" (see the above paragraph)

After walking around forever, we ended up getting to the basilica, Sacré Coeur. Interesting tidbit - it's built out of a special type of white stone (imported from Bretagne) that gets whiter over the years (I may have already known this, but I'm writing it here because it's still interesting). So, unlike the other churches in France (and believe me, there are a ton of them!), this one has only been cleaned twice since it was built (construction started in the 1800's, though the last stone wasn't set until the 1900's). 

These are two views of Sacre Coeur - front and back.

Climbing down from the basilica was annoying. There are guys who try to grab your wrist and put a bracelet on it and won't let you leave until you pay them for the bracelet. Sabrina told us to put our hands in our pockets and guard our purses on the way down because they apparently had a problem on the first group. They noticed that someone had his hand in one girl's pocket, but luckily, they saw him before he stole anything. The bracelet guys are just really annoying because they really come after you. I'm pretty sure everyone made it down sans bracelets. 

The trip ended at Moulin Rouge. Apparently, that area is full of prostitution, but it's not on the street anymore because a recent law made it illegal for prostitutes to be on the street. Sabrina said it's a dumb law, though, because they all just moved inside buildings.

This one is already labeled - Moulin Rouge.

And, that was pretty much it. The walking tour made me so tired, I'm just going to take a French shower (a.k.a. bath), and go to bed. Tomorrow's blog entry should be interesting - we're going to Le Marais, which, as my host father told me, is the Jewish and gay quarter. They're either Jewish or gay, but typically not both, he said. Alexandra's coming too, because Michel (the methodology professor) is also her professor with the BU program. We're thinking he'll be surprised to see her! 

Faire du shopping...but at least I'm in Paris!

This is La Place de la Concorde (a major setting in a short story I wrote last year)

Today, Alexandra and I went shopping since the sale that's going on now (one of the only two a year in Paris) is going to end on Tuesday. I actually bought stuff too - a dress that was originally 180 euros and a shirt that was originally 120 (those prices are approximate - I'm too lazy to check the receipt). But, I got both of them for about 68 euros, I think, which really doesn't seem too bad. I figured this was the only time I'll ever be able to afford European clothes - next, I should buy converse sneakers because that's what college students here wear. All someone here needs to do is look at my sketchers to see that I'm not French. We also walked around by the Champs Élysées just to "faire du lèche-vitrines" (window shopping, or more literally, to lick the windows! I think it's a great expression!). Anyway, I hate shopping, but being in Paris, I figure I have to go shopping at least once. Plus, I rewarded myself with some French onion soup (which they just call onion soup here - go figure! Maybe it's like Buffalo and wings). 

This is French onion soup - really good!

Then, we saw a French movie: Les Complices. It was horrible. It was like CSI Paris, only with a ton more nudity. Alexandra fell asleep, and she's the one who has to write about what happened in this movie for her film class. It was disturbing, but there's a bright side to this too - I understood pretty much all of it! There were some parts that were a little difficult because of all the slang (the prostitution parts...yeah, it was a great movie...), but overall, I think I did a good job!

This is the most expensive street in the whole world

I suppose that's pretty much it for today. Oh, and I want to say that I think La place de l'Étoile is the worst traffic design EVER! No lanes, twelve streets, a big obstruction blocking the view, lousy crosswalks, and tons of cars. It's an accident waiting to happen - that's the last time I'm going back there! 

And that's me, in front of l'Arc de Triomphe.

Le Centre de Georges Pompidou

I have officially changed my mind about Le Centre de Georges Pompidou - it doesn't belong here. It's cool, but with the way all the architecture in Paris looks, I really don't think it should be in the middle of all of those beautiful old buildings. They should pick it up and move it to this arrondissement - it would look okay next to the National Library, I suppose. But at least the National Library is a beautiful modern building that ties in with Paris architecture - it's a rectangle, there are four towers that are supposed to look like open books, and there's a garden in the middle (a lot of buildings here have courtyards inside). So, even though it's really tall and reflective, it at least kind of fits in. The Pompidou Center looks like a mess.

Today was a nice day without anything to do. I practiced my flute, had lunch with Alexandra (pad thai, very French), had some more Berthillon ice cream, called some horseback riding places in French for Alexandra, saw the Pompidou Center, then taught Olivier some English. The Berthillon ice cream was even better today - and the lady who served it gave me the funniest look when Alexandra ordered the salted caramel. She recognizes me now, and thinks it's really funny how I come in so often. The last time I was there, this American wanted coffee ice cream, and she said they didn't have any, so he asked if they had something like coffee, and she didn't quite understand. So, I told him no, but that the caramel was delicious, so he ordered that. I had been speaking French when he walked in, so when I switched to English, he was amazed how good my English was - it was pretty funny! Anyway, teaching English is such easy money! 20 euros for speaking English for an hour and a half? I speak English every single day of my life - no one's ever paid me for it before. He might as well pay me for breathing or eating. But it's fun and interesting to help someone learn English, and also to see what parts of English are problems for the French. Apparently I speak pretty fast and my accent is different from what he's used to, because he's spent a lot of time in London. So, it was a learning experience for me too - but in the same way that everything here is a sort of inadvertent learning experience. I can't wait to teach some more!

Enfantillage

I can't remember if I've mentioned French showers yet or not, but I don't like them. You can't even call them showers really - it's a bathtub with a shower head that you have to hold. Now, they might not all be like the one I have here with my host family (though, this one seems to fit the description the housing director gave us), but there isn't even a shower curtain. Since I'm living in someone else's house, I don't want to take really long showers, but lately, I've had no choice - I can barely figure it out. And I certainly can't ask "Excusez-moi, mais comment peut-on prendre une douche en ce pays?" (Excuse me, but how does one take a shower in this country?) Tonight, I found out that the thing is temperamental and sometimes, the shower head doesn't work. Or maybe I'm just doing it wrong. Anyway, I thought that deserved a mention.

Course selection is finally over, and I'm very happy. I'm going to take three courses at Paris VIII-St. Denis (a writing workshop where they teach you to write with constraints like l'OuLiPo, a literature class about Paris and how it's impacted French literature where we'll visit different parts of Paris that are mentioned in novels, and a history class about the reign of Louis XIV), one at Paris IV-La Sorbonne (a basic philosophy course), and finally, a French literature course at l'ENS (that will be impossible, but I can't wait!)!

Then, today, we talked about the differences between French and American universities. First, in American universities, since they cost so much more, they told us students are treated like clients, and as such, we get individualized attention, they make sure we have the guidance we need to graduate, there's one-on-one time with professors, etc. But, in French schools, since they're all public and the entire country pays for students to go to school, the students aren't at the center of the picture. A certain degree of anonymity is always nice, though, so I don't think I'll mind going a semester without being important. They also said that, in American universities, the professors give more homework and are more explicit about what is expected of the students - usually presenting a syllabus and a reading list. However, at French universities, students have more liberties, in a sense. The professor starts by handing out a bibliography for the course, but the students choose which books to use. Maybe the professor will choose one or two as textbooks, but it's up to the student how many extra books he/she reads and why. Then, there are only two or three real graded assignments in French classes (oral presentations, disserations, or a test). I've already talked about the methodology behind the dissertation, but the oral presentations and tests are a little different too. They told us not to be afraid of speaking, even if our French isn't perfect, because the students and the professor will already be impressed at our courage for taking these courses in French, so they'll focus less on how we say things and more on what we say. Then, with the tests, the professor won't say what kind of test it will be. And they told us not to be too afraid about getting bad grades - apparently, all French professors give bad grades. Grades here are out of 20, and the saying goes: "20 is for God, 19 is for the professor, and after that, we'll see." So, I suppose we'll see. CUPA has deemed a 9/20 a passing grade, and since, when you study abroad, it's all pass/fail, all I need is a 9. Woohoo! The final difference is that, in America, college is seen as a transition period between adolescence and adulthood, whereas here, college students are viewed right away as adults. Even though many still live with their parents while they go to college, they are supposedly incredibly independent and, since these schools don't have real campuses, treat Paris as their own personal campus. It was an interesting discussion.

Today, I also went back to l'ENS to see where my course is going to be on Monday. It's right next to La Salle Beckett (because, of course, Samuel Beckett taught there!). I also took another good look at the Ernests, and found an adorable kitty, which I proceeded to pet for a while. He must have been a smart cat to pass the concours to get in. Hopefully, he's there for the education, and not for the Ernests! Then, I got some more Berthillon ice cream (salted caramel, my new favorite flavor!), and on the way back, I had one of those moments. I was walking along the Seine, ice cream cone in hand, passing by Notre-Dame, and suddenly, it hit me all over again that I'm actually in Paris! It's just so incredible - this city is so old, and has inspired millions, and I'm here right now. All of the customs and traditions (academic and otherwise) that I've been observing, are older than anything in the United States, and everyone here is really proud of their culture and language. The opportunity to learn just by living day by day is incredible! My courses haven't even started yet, and I feel as though I've learned more than I could have learned studying French at Hopkins my whole life.

That's it for tonight. I really need to stop staying up so late. I'm putting a picture of the ENS cat here, and I'll put the CUPA party pictures on yesterday's blog.

La Soirée de CUPA

This is going to be a short entry because it's really late. Today was unnecessarily busy. First, we had to be at CUPA at 10:30 to talk about courses, but everything they said they had already told us in our individual meetings. Then, we had a lunch to celebrate the end of orientation. Basically, it was quiche and cake. The top director knew me by name and spent a lot of time talking to me about my flute lessons - I actually have no idea how she knew me by name, since we had never really seen her before. Then, there was a session on methodology specific to taking a history course, which now I'm going to have to do, but the methodology wasn't really all that different. The different parts were how to cite sources, quotations, and just how to think about the questions. Then, I had my last language course (which is good, since that was not my favorite course), in which he basically told us to make an outline for an hour in class after Zach was done with his speech about the newspaper articles. In-class work seemed like a waste of time, especially since it had nothing to do with "la langue" and we had already covered making outlines in methodology.

Then, tonight was the party! They invited tons of French people - the friends and relatives of the two students who teach us, our host brothers and sisters, and more! I spent hours speaking French! It was fantastic - I talked to this one girl named Charline for a long time. She even gave a bunch of us her phone number and told us we should all hang out sometime! Anyway, I'm going to bed so I can wake up early tomorrow morning and pick my last two backup courses. I'll post pictures of the party tomorrow.

La justesse des cours

This morning, I had a minor crisis. The ENS professor whose course I really wanted to take emailed me back and said that he would have been happy to let me take his course, but that he's sick this year and isn't teaching. So, I had to find another ENS course (which the professor said I could take), but this new one conflicts with the CUPA art history course. C'est dommage, but what can I do? At least all the museums here are free, so I can still go see all the paintings by myself, even if I can't really appreciate them like I should. The new ENS course actually seems more interesting anyway.

I went into my first French Starbucks today as well - I was on my way to my first flute lesson and I was really early and had to go to the bathroom. Marie had told us that, since Paris has gradually been getting rid of the public restrooms on the street (because they're not appropriate in such a historical city), we should go in a Starbucks. But, I felt bad about going in without buying something, so I bought a mocha. In two words: NEVER AGAIN. It's so much more expensive here than in the US (4.10, but Euros, not dollars - so more than $5) for a tall mocha. What a waste! On the bright side, I found the cheapest crepes in Paris - a crepe with nutella is only 2 euros, whereas most other places it's 2.50 or even 3 sometimes. A nice Greek guy down the street from CUPA makes them and it tasted the same. Anyway, at least the bathroom in the Starbucks was nice, but the energy conservation was annoying. The lights were motion activated, but they didn't stay on for very long. And, you need to push the button on the hand dryer the whole time you use it, which is dumb and makes the drying process take twice as long.

My flute lesson was great. Bastien Pelat is a really good teacher, and the French wasn't too much of a problem. By that, I mean that I don't have a musical vocabulary, so simple words such as tuning, chord, scale, trick fingering, air support, etc. were beyond my vocabulary. So, every time he said the French words, it took me an extra second or two to understand what he was saying. For example, I played a note a little flat, and he said "gardez la justesse." The French word for being in tune is apparently "justesse." At one point, he called some notes "les noirs" (the blacks) and others "les blancs" (the whites) because half notes are open circles and quarter notes are just black dots. It was an interesting lesson for that reason, but he also had really constructive things to say about my playing. And he said I spoke French really well!

Earlier today at CUPA, we had "galette des rois" which is a cake made to celebrate the epiphany (I'm not sure if it's called that in English, but it's some kind of Catholic holiday, I think). Each cake has a little clay toy inside, and whoever gets that piece after it's cut is crowned the king or queen. I suppose it's interesting that French people bake toys into their food - I thought it was just rings. If you don't understand this, it's a reference to a French fairy tale called Peau d'âne or Donkey Skin. In it, the beautiful princess' father falls in love with her after her mother dies and tells him he has to marry the most beautiful girl in the kingdom, who happens to be his daughter. So, after talking to her fairy godmother, the girl tells her father that she'll marry him if he makes her a dress that's the color of the sky, which he does, then the moon, and then the sun. Then, her fairy godmother realizes that that was a bad suggestion, and tells the girl to tell her father to kill and skin his donkey that poops gold - yeah, French stories can get kind of strange. Of course, he does that too, so the girl has to cover herself with the donkey skin and run away, where she works as a housekeeper, but everyone thinks she's really ugly because of the donkey skin. Then, she meets the prince and he sees her trying on her pretty dresses one day, but no one believes him that she's really beautiful, so she bakes him a cake and drops a ring into the batter so he knows it was her. Then, he demands that she make him another cake, and when she delivers it to him, she takes off the donkey skin and everyone lives happily ever after. And that, my friends, is a French fairy tale! Incest, gold pooping donkeys, insulting ugly people, lousy fairy godmothers, and baking rings into cakes.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. Galette des rois. I didn't get the toy, so I wasn't queen. It's okay, though - the toys were just clay farm animals. We also had "cidre" which is like apple juice wine. I didn't really appreciate that either. But, maybe after four months, I'll like it. The picture on this entry is of Catherine Deneuve, a famous French actress, portraying the princess in "Donkey Skin."