Paris and Then Some
My Room
Cite Universitaire
Paris, France
21:12
Monday, October 3, 2005
Paris and Then Some
So, I’m in Paris and it’s amazing beyond belief. The people, the lights, the wine, the cute French boys, the cafes, the French. Everything. It’s all amazing and I’m so happy to be here. It’s such a satisfying feeling when life long dreams come true. First college, then Paris. Maybe there is hope that I’m not destined to be forever alone.
Lauren picked me up at the airport like the good husband she is, and after schleeping my shit halfway across the continent we slept off some jet lag. The room I have is nice, spacious by U of C standards with French windows that overlook a park. It’s gorgeous as long as you ignore the construction/destruction of the street below. The floors are tile and very cold. Every morning I have to convince myself to get out of bed to find my shoes, hopping and squealing. I have a sink in my room, which is sweet but other then that it’s your generic student room. Jesse told me how barren it is and suggested I take tapestries. Such a good call Jesse! Thank you!
After sleep and unpacking, Lauren and I decided to go out on the town. It was la Nuit Blanche – White Night. This is when everything is open from 8:00 pm – 8:00 am and all of Paris become a big, giant party. After many bottles of wine, getting seduced by creepy French men, ditching them to go back the café and have more wine, stumbling upon an outdoor disco and many other fantastic, random events, we decided that 4:00 am was a decent hour to call it a night. We stumbled to the train station only to learn that by “everything is open” they mean everything but the Trains. They stopped running, and didn’t start up again until 5:00. So here we are drunk, in a train station, stranded. We did the obvious: took a nap. Lauren didn’t actually sleep, but I passed smooth out, spooning with my husband on the floor. Yea, it was sweet.
However, other then that, it’s been a lot of drinking, Hookah bars, and telling sleazy French men politely that no, I won’t go home with them. But generally speaking, I love the French. They’re so gregarious and loving. I still hope to fall magically in love here to eventually return and have many beautiful French babies. My mom’s entirely convinced it’s going to happen and I’ll never return to the states. As she put it, “Oh darn, I’d have to visit my grandkids in Paris.”
For some reason I volunteered to give the first presentation over our reading, which I haven’t done yet. I should probably get on that. Being back in school is weird, as it commuting to get there – I’d gotten quite used to the closeness of Hyde Park. But then again, getting on the train is always another chance to meet people, learn more about the city etc.
Wednesday I’m planning on going to St. Jacques *** and convincing them to teach me French sign language. I hope it works. I could teach them the little ASL I learn and in exchange, they could enable me to eventually save all the deaf children everywhere.
My French is getting better and better by the day. There are a total of three of us who actually speak French with a decent degree of fluency, and four other with some French. Everyone else is lost. It’s rewarding to translate for everyone, but more exciting to talk to everyone I see in French. Really, I talk to strangers a lot more, partially because that’s the way it is here, but also because I thrill every time I’m understood, every pleasant exchange, every true won smile. We have these “conversation groups” which I realized, with the help of Kett, is really where the U of C pays some local French people to be our friends. Kett, Eili and I (the three French speakers) met Arthur (r-Tur in francais) and he took us to the Latin Quarter and pointed out the sites. Then we went to a café, split a bottle of wine and spoke lots of French. I’m glad for the opportunity to meet a true Parisian and milk him for knowledge of the city, and I know that he doesn’t look at this as a job. Yet, at the same time there’s still a bit of weirdness, at least theoretically speaking. Don’t worry: I’m over it.
The thing I’ve realized about Paris is that it has presence. You can feel the history, the beauty, the art, the revolutions, the ideas, the parties, the wine, the culture, the love everywhere you go. You can see it in the architecture, you can hear it in the language, you can see if flow by as you walk along the Seine. (Oh, side note: there’s a really attractive guy in my program, so obviously, I stand near him while we’re waiting to take a tour of the Cite and I accidentally hear him say, “Oh is that by the Sin, or whatever it is.” Yea, that’s when I decided that he’s a douche and if it were up to me, I’d of kicked him out of France.) Paris never lets you forget how amazing it is to be alive and how much joy there is in life, something I think Chicago hopes you’d forget. Texas is my homeland, mais Paris est la terre de ma coeur.
Cite Universitaire
Paris, France
21:12
Monday, October 3, 2005
Paris and Then Some
So, I’m in Paris and it’s amazing beyond belief. The people, the lights, the wine, the cute French boys, the cafes, the French. Everything. It’s all amazing and I’m so happy to be here. It’s such a satisfying feeling when life long dreams come true. First college, then Paris. Maybe there is hope that I’m not destined to be forever alone.
Lauren picked me up at the airport like the good husband she is, and after schleeping my shit halfway across the continent we slept off some jet lag. The room I have is nice, spacious by U of C standards with French windows that overlook a park. It’s gorgeous as long as you ignore the construction/destruction of the street below. The floors are tile and very cold. Every morning I have to convince myself to get out of bed to find my shoes, hopping and squealing. I have a sink in my room, which is sweet but other then that it’s your generic student room. Jesse told me how barren it is and suggested I take tapestries. Such a good call Jesse! Thank you!
After sleep and unpacking, Lauren and I decided to go out on the town. It was la Nuit Blanche – White Night. This is when everything is open from 8:00 pm – 8:00 am and all of Paris become a big, giant party. After many bottles of wine, getting seduced by creepy French men, ditching them to go back the café and have more wine, stumbling upon an outdoor disco and many other fantastic, random events, we decided that 4:00 am was a decent hour to call it a night. We stumbled to the train station only to learn that by “everything is open” they mean everything but the Trains. They stopped running, and didn’t start up again until 5:00. So here we are drunk, in a train station, stranded. We did the obvious: took a nap. Lauren didn’t actually sleep, but I passed smooth out, spooning with my husband on the floor. Yea, it was sweet.
However, other then that, it’s been a lot of drinking, Hookah bars, and telling sleazy French men politely that no, I won’t go home with them. But generally speaking, I love the French. They’re so gregarious and loving. I still hope to fall magically in love here to eventually return and have many beautiful French babies. My mom’s entirely convinced it’s going to happen and I’ll never return to the states. As she put it, “Oh darn, I’d have to visit my grandkids in Paris.”
For some reason I volunteered to give the first presentation over our reading, which I haven’t done yet. I should probably get on that. Being back in school is weird, as it commuting to get there – I’d gotten quite used to the closeness of Hyde Park. But then again, getting on the train is always another chance to meet people, learn more about the city etc.
Wednesday I’m planning on going to St. Jacques *** and convincing them to teach me French sign language. I hope it works. I could teach them the little ASL I learn and in exchange, they could enable me to eventually save all the deaf children everywhere.
My French is getting better and better by the day. There are a total of three of us who actually speak French with a decent degree of fluency, and four other with some French. Everyone else is lost. It’s rewarding to translate for everyone, but more exciting to talk to everyone I see in French. Really, I talk to strangers a lot more, partially because that’s the way it is here, but also because I thrill every time I’m understood, every pleasant exchange, every true won smile. We have these “conversation groups” which I realized, with the help of Kett, is really where the U of C pays some local French people to be our friends. Kett, Eili and I (the three French speakers) met Arthur (r-Tur in francais) and he took us to the Latin Quarter and pointed out the sites. Then we went to a café, split a bottle of wine and spoke lots of French. I’m glad for the opportunity to meet a true Parisian and milk him for knowledge of the city, and I know that he doesn’t look at this as a job. Yet, at the same time there’s still a bit of weirdness, at least theoretically speaking. Don’t worry: I’m over it.
The thing I’ve realized about Paris is that it has presence. You can feel the history, the beauty, the art, the revolutions, the ideas, the parties, the wine, the culture, the love everywhere you go. You can see it in the architecture, you can hear it in the language, you can see if flow by as you walk along the Seine. (Oh, side note: there’s a really attractive guy in my program, so obviously, I stand near him while we’re waiting to take a tour of the Cite and I accidentally hear him say, “Oh is that by the Sin, or whatever it is.” Yea, that’s when I decided that he’s a douche and if it were up to me, I’d of kicked him out of France.) Paris never lets you forget how amazing it is to be alive and how much joy there is in life, something I think Chicago hopes you’d forget. Texas is my homeland, mais Paris est la terre de ma coeur.
posted by Mia at 9:12 PM
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