So it is Saturday morning August 30th of 2003 and I treated myself to a 'graisse matinée' until 8h30 because I successfully finished my first month of school at the Sorbonne's langue et civilization program. You would think that by now I would be competely straightened out concerning that powerful little instrument in my mouth and of course entirely civilized now, but alas, I am not. Sometimes the fact that 'the more you know, the less you know' really takes on reality.
Two days ago I had one of those very strange experiences where I was sitting in a little chinese joint on the fringe of the 5th and 6th. I looked out the window and watched the traffic for a minute and was thinking through a fog of grammer and drowsiness. I suddenly realized that those funny looking trucks and little cars and crazy motorcyclists who drive up on the sidewalk as a short-cut were becoming familiar. So I did a quick brain search for what american cars and drivers are like. I remembered but then I was hit with that crazy question that pops up every once in a while, "How in the world did I get here, and what in the world am I doing here?"
The answers are simple: I followed the God I love and my dreams, and I am greatly profiting from my time here. Although I am far from 'rica' where all my family lives and a large part of my closest friends abide, I am equally stoked to be in a city as amazing as Paris. Everyday I see people from what seems like hundreds of nationalities. Last night I ate in the Indian quarter. As Sev and I walked up the sidewalk the city turned into a neon light show and Sarees where being sold in every other store; the markets were transformed on shows hosted by hindi speaking shop-owners. The married women wore little red dots on their foreheads and gold jewelry was abundant.
An hour earlier, I was one of two white people in a métro full of different african-origin people. I live in one of the most multicultural cities in the world.
Today I'm giving myself a break. I slept in and I'm going to talk about ministries in the area with a fellow believer for lunch (in french). I live far from what was most familiar. I now live in a world that is going to stretch me and push me to my extremes-- and its only going to make me a stronger and better person. So today if it is hard, I'm giving myself a break.
8/30/2003
8/20/2003
I've been discovering the neighboring arrondissements to my school. Since the temperatures have cooled down, I've taken to promenading in the 6th and 5th. A day ago, I sat in the place at St. Sulpice and watched the few tourists and the pigeons.
Its a huge square with a magnificant fountain and plenty of benches and too many pigeons. They all waddle over to a suspect and eyeball their lunch with those beady eyes. One woman tossed the rest of her sandwich over her sholder and they all blew in a torrent to it and devoured it. The birds came from every direction. Then another person across the place dropped their sandwich causing a rucus to ensue. Every bird seemed to have seen it and they flew like a herd of turkeys toward the opposite corner of the place. My hair blew with the rush of their wings and I watched as a unsupspecting Parisien got hit in the face by one of the flying missiles. The bird did a few corkscrew flips before it regained its equilibrium. The young man was smiling and laughing as was I.
Pigeons are one of the ugliest birds known to mankind. These grey, homely creatures in the late summer waddle along until they find a good spot on the cement or perch themselves on unknowning cement and bronze statues, fluff up their weathered feathers, even pick at them with their sharp lips. Then they pretend to sleep, feathers sticking up like Alfalfa's hair. Every once in awhile, a jerk can be spotted- as if he had something more than all his forelorn family, he'll dominate, attack and peck the others who may or may not have both claws. That's my analysis of parisien pigeons.
Its a huge square with a magnificant fountain and plenty of benches and too many pigeons. They all waddle over to a suspect and eyeball their lunch with those beady eyes. One woman tossed the rest of her sandwich over her sholder and they all blew in a torrent to it and devoured it. The birds came from every direction. Then another person across the place dropped their sandwich causing a rucus to ensue. Every bird seemed to have seen it and they flew like a herd of turkeys toward the opposite corner of the place. My hair blew with the rush of their wings and I watched as a unsupspecting Parisien got hit in the face by one of the flying missiles. The bird did a few corkscrew flips before it regained its equilibrium. The young man was smiling and laughing as was I.
Pigeons are one of the ugliest birds known to mankind. These grey, homely creatures in the late summer waddle along until they find a good spot on the cement or perch themselves on unknowning cement and bronze statues, fluff up their weathered feathers, even pick at them with their sharp lips. Then they pretend to sleep, feathers sticking up like Alfalfa's hair. Every once in awhile, a jerk can be spotted- as if he had something more than all his forelorn family, he'll dominate, attack and peck the others who may or may not have both claws. That's my analysis of parisien pigeons.
8/12/2003
8/10/2003
Phenomen this morning as I woke up and jumped from the shower into my clothes: It started to rain! I haven't seen rain in what seems like a lifetime of heat wave. So now we have a small luggy breeze flowing through the house and I don't get to stay and enjoy it. Instead, I'm off to fend for a seat on the RER.
So I survived another week, only to be thrust this morning into another. I am actually excited to be busy studying and learning and practicing my french. The only bummer about another week is the predicted heat.
Things I'm learning about myself: 1. If I sleep on my hair wet, it will be curly in the morning. 2. I have very high arches in my feet and must buy comfortable and, unfortunately, expensive shoes. 3. I hate to get the cash register and give up my carefully selected peaches because I don't have enough change.
Things I'm learning about myself: 1. If I sleep on my hair wet, it will be curly in the morning. 2. I have very high arches in my feet and must buy comfortable and, unfortunately, expensive shoes. 3. I hate to get the cash register and give up my carefully selected peaches because I don't have enough change.
8/08/2003
The evening, as the sun boiled down on us Parisiens, I noticed a Kraft style piece of cheese being melted to the sidewalk. I passed by an Indien family and the little baby girl with wide eyes and frizzy black hair stared at me from her stroller. She must have only been about 1. A little gem was planted squarely on her forehead.
Our grammaire prof thought it would more convenient to take our test today rather than tomorrow as planned...so we did. Fortunately there was no passé simple in subjonctif. I don't know what I would have done if there had been. We spent 2 hours in the un-airconditioned phonetics lab while the rest of the world cooked outdoors in the sun.
Today I learned about the goods and bads of Franco. I'm slowly catching up on my spanish and french and german history thanks to my new classmates.
Our grammaire prof thought it would more convenient to take our test today rather than tomorrow as planned...so we did. Fortunately there was no passé simple in subjonctif. I don't know what I would have done if there had been. We spent 2 hours in the un-airconditioned phonetics lab while the rest of the world cooked outdoors in the sun.
Today I learned about the goods and bads of Franco. I'm slowly catching up on my spanish and french and german history thanks to my new classmates.
8/07/2003
The evening, as the sun boiled down on us Parisiens, I noticed a Kraft style piece of cheese being melted to the sidewalk. I passed by an Indien family and the little baby girl with wide eyes and frizzy black hair stared at me from her stroller. She must have only been about 1. A little gem was planted squarely on her forehead.
Our grammaire prof thought it would more convenient to take our test today rather than tomorrow as planned...so we did. Fortunately there was no passé simple in subjonctif. I don't know what I would have done if there had been. We spent 2 hours in the un-airconditioned phonetics lab while the rest of the world cooked outdoors in the sun.
Today I learned about the goods and bads of Franco. I'm slowly catching up on my spanish and french and german history thanks to my new classmates.
Our grammaire prof thought it would more convenient to take our test today rather than tomorrow as planned...so we did. Fortunately there was no passé simple in subjonctif. I don't know what I would have done if there had been. We spent 2 hours in the un-airconditioned phonetics lab while the rest of the world cooked outdoors in the sun.
Today I learned about the goods and bads of Franco. I'm slowly catching up on my spanish and french and german history thanks to my new classmates.
8/06/2003
Its been 7 months or so since I visited the coiffeur. About a week ago, I woke up and noticed a split hair... a long split hair.... with about 20 different splits in it. So I decided to gut it and go to the coiffeur here in France again.
The first time I made this enquête, I felt like a miserable failure and walked out with what the girl wanted to give me instead of what I wanted. It was frustrating and expensive and I gave up and returned to my mom who trimmed my hair for the rest of that séjour in France.
This time I started by hunting around in the little streets around the Sorbonne, my new school. Certain places advertised for student rates and so I began hunting for their prices and watching through the windows to see what kind of work they were producing. I say all this because I am quite attached to a talented hairdresser that I have in Portland- namely Jen at Salon 181. I miss that girl.
The going rate for students in spendy Paris is still 3 times what I payed Jen, but I took the dive today and met my new coiffeuse Marie. I chose a little place a block from my new school and across from a little park where they once beheaded people and just two steps from the café where Jonathan and Karen secretly met all of 4 years ago.
I took a photo along, trembling as I pulled it from my shorty's backpack as she said she couldn't "see the coiffe". Mince! I let her talk and tried as hard as possible to assimilate all the new vocab, but since I had been up since 6:30 when the glass recycler came by, and I had spent a good 3 hours in french class and the phonetics lab, my best was to follow what she said. She gave my head a good washing and quickly whisked it forward into a ponytail and wacked it off. I was a bit scared but I relaxed as I watched her mold it into a nice cut, layered around my face. The head wash was done in cold water which was quite refreshing considering its about 40 degrees Celsius, but she had to insist on styling my new head and swiftly applied her hairdryer to my rebellious hair. I thought my scalp would broil.
Voila! I have a new doo! still quite long but with all the possiblilities of "chic" to "rebel" and a new coiffeuse.
The first time I made this enquête, I felt like a miserable failure and walked out with what the girl wanted to give me instead of what I wanted. It was frustrating and expensive and I gave up and returned to my mom who trimmed my hair for the rest of that séjour in France.
This time I started by hunting around in the little streets around the Sorbonne, my new school. Certain places advertised for student rates and so I began hunting for their prices and watching through the windows to see what kind of work they were producing. I say all this because I am quite attached to a talented hairdresser that I have in Portland- namely Jen at Salon 181. I miss that girl.
The going rate for students in spendy Paris is still 3 times what I payed Jen, but I took the dive today and met my new coiffeuse Marie. I chose a little place a block from my new school and across from a little park where they once beheaded people and just two steps from the café where Jonathan and Karen secretly met all of 4 years ago.
I took a photo along, trembling as I pulled it from my shorty's backpack as she said she couldn't "see the coiffe". Mince! I let her talk and tried as hard as possible to assimilate all the new vocab, but since I had been up since 6:30 when the glass recycler came by, and I had spent a good 3 hours in french class and the phonetics lab, my best was to follow what she said. She gave my head a good washing and quickly whisked it forward into a ponytail and wacked it off. I was a bit scared but I relaxed as I watched her mold it into a nice cut, layered around my face. The head wash was done in cold water which was quite refreshing considering its about 40 degrees Celsius, but she had to insist on styling my new head and swiftly applied her hairdryer to my rebellious hair. I thought my scalp would broil.
Voila! I have a new doo! still quite long but with all the possiblilities of "chic" to "rebel" and a new coiffeuse.
8/03/2003
Well, the plan was to go to bed 30 minutes ago; that's changed. My homework took longer that I wanted it to- it always does, but I feel I did my best for the first time round. Tomorrow I have to be at class by 8:30 and I will spend a third hour in phonetics. When I untie my head from the headphones, I'll eat lunch and study and wait for the afternoon conference. I want to get a feel for these lectures.
I can say that after my hour of digging through the dictionary for a one-page exerpt from Maupassant, my brain is dripping with new words that I tried to "redige" back into my little notebook in complete sentence form for my new professor, Mme Vrillaud. I'll let you know what she thought of my few lines. I have a feeling that I will spend quite a bit of time digging through the dictionary, and I'm not talking about one of those French/English ones- I'm talkin' the real thing- french all the way through; so that when I don't know what a word in the definition is, I have to go and dig up its definition.
I can say that after my hour of digging through the dictionary for a one-page exerpt from Maupassant, my brain is dripping with new words that I tried to "redige" back into my little notebook in complete sentence form for my new professor, Mme Vrillaud. I'll let you know what she thought of my few lines. I have a feeling that I will spend quite a bit of time digging through the dictionary, and I'm not talking about one of those French/English ones- I'm talkin' the real thing- french all the way through; so that when I don't know what a word in the definition is, I have to go and dig up its definition.
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