I wrote this for the Hatchet; you're lucky I'm giving you a sneak peak...
Oh, Paris. Yes, the bread and pastries are irresistible, the wine is good and cheap, and simply walking down a street leaves you smiling. I find comfort in the winding streets that lead to the Eiffel Tour from school, a slight pang in my heart for the things America does better, but I leave my apartment in the 16th arrondisement every day knowing that change is good.
On one of our first nights here, the student advisors organized a bar crawl in one of the popular neighborhoods, the Latin Quarter. We were led by a handsome, Lebanese, New Yorker, who insisted all night that 18-years-old was not too young for my friend, a 23-year-old graduate student. He also mentioned earlier in the day that French men love to go to tanning booths. My friend and I found this another reason to stay away from French men.
We were all out of our element, and loving it. What is most shocking to Americans here is not necessarily the price of everything (which is shocking enough), but how the rules of attraction are redefined.
The French learned that by merely mentioning Obama they could easily catch the eye of an American girl. As a good GW student through and through, we were up for talking politics while the French men took this as an invitation to aggressively pursue you on the dance floor. After that night, I had to learn how to say “leave me alone” in French, and when I asked my French professor a few days later, everyone erupted in laughter. I hoped they were as eager to know the answer as I was, rather than laughing at my incompetency.
After leaving the third bar, I found myself in a heated debate with three French boys over the quality of musicianship between Jay-Z and 50 Cent. I was outraged at the comparison, and told them that any person who chooses 50 Cent over Jay-Z is no friend of mine. The group was heading to the last bar, but the French boys continued to follow me and my friend, insisting we go to a “funky club” with them. I still don’t know what they were talking about.
A British freshmen, who had coincidentally been kicked out of GW last fall, told us to follow him into a nearby restaurant that the French boys wouldn’t be able to afford, and therefore would go away. We followed our new friend’s lead, and the French boys disappear. My friend and I took note of this new trick for future run-ins with the locals.
These new and unknown customs still come as a shock to me everyday, so I surround myself with familiar reminders of home. Whether that’s watching Grey’s Anatomy online or spending 11 euros (14$) on Oreo’s at an American grocery store, you do what you have to do to make yourself at home.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Les premiere semaines
I love Paris. It's beautiful, its embracing, it leaves you wanting more. The people have been living up to their stereotype unfortunately, but we're manging just fine. Speaking of we, that is
me and my roommate Ellie. Ellie's from Nebraska who i thankfully met through our mutual from Jen. For lack of better words, Ellie is the ying to my yang. Without her this past week, I wouldn't be able to laugh at the phone people who tell us to come back on Tuesday when it is only Thursday, to grimace at the mold on one of the apartments we looked at, or to laugh out loud at the bank teller when she told me today the machine worked this morning and to come back tomorrow, which has been their response to almost everything.
Anyways, after a week long adventure in the housing world (i'll spare you the details, but lets just say you were only supposed to go through 2 rounds of housing and we went through 7; we're legendary. i had many a fight with the housing director, i actually YELLED in her face) we have now settled into our wonderful, newly redone, everything brand new apartment in the 16th arrondisement. it's like living on the upper east side, which is perhaps why i feel so comfortable here.
For the inauguration we went to an american bar where i randomly ran into a friend from GW, which was so nice. We hooped and hollared, cried and screamed of excitement. I was the loud annoying american but i didn't care. when aretha franklin finished her superb rendition of america the beautiful, i had to encourage the rest of the bar to respect the queen of soul. it was a fantastic night, while all we wanted to do was be in washington, dc for that day, we made the best
of the separation. I actually teared up when I heard Wolf Blitzers voice.
Classes are good, not great, and makes me appreciate GW a bit more. My 19th/20th art professor snapped at me when I pointed out a Native American in a painting we were looking at, saying, "actually, they prefer american indian." someone missed a step...
The French do everything 5x slower than at home. I find myself constantly having to remind them that the business day concludes at 5 or 6 NOT 3 or 4. Come back tomorrow, they keep telling me.
BUT even after the unpoliticaly-correct professor, the weird business
style/lack of, and the long search for an apartment, I still am in
love with this city.
Bisous,
Remy
me and my roommate Ellie. Ellie's from Nebraska who i thankfully met through our mutual from Jen. For lack of better words, Ellie is the ying to my yang. Without her this past week, I wouldn't be able to laugh at the phone people who tell us to come back on Tuesday when it is only Thursday, to grimace at the mold on one of the apartments we looked at, or to laugh out loud at the bank teller when she told me today the machine worked this morning and to come back tomorrow, which has been their response to almost everything.
Anyways, after a week long adventure in the housing world (i'll spare you the details, but lets just say you were only supposed to go through 2 rounds of housing and we went through 7; we're legendary. i had many a fight with the housing director, i actually YELLED in her face) we have now settled into our wonderful, newly redone, everything brand new apartment in the 16th arrondisement. it's like living on the upper east side, which is perhaps why i feel so comfortable here.
For the inauguration we went to an american bar where i randomly ran into a friend from GW, which was so nice. We hooped and hollared, cried and screamed of excitement. I was the loud annoying american but i didn't care. when aretha franklin finished her superb rendition of america the beautiful, i had to encourage the rest of the bar to respect the queen of soul. it was a fantastic night, while all we wanted to do was be in washington, dc for that day, we made the best
of the separation. I actually teared up when I heard Wolf Blitzers voice.
Classes are good, not great, and makes me appreciate GW a bit more. My 19th/20th art professor snapped at me when I pointed out a Native American in a painting we were looking at, saying, "actually, they prefer american indian." someone missed a step...
The French do everything 5x slower than at home. I find myself constantly having to remind them that the business day concludes at 5 or 6 NOT 3 or 4. Come back tomorrow, they keep telling me.
BUT even after the unpoliticaly-correct professor, the weird business
style/lack of, and the long search for an apartment, I still am in
love with this city.
Bisous,
Remy
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