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| biked down a random street and saw this |
30 August 2011
picture of the day
french coke
French coke is more sugary than American coke. Not quite sure if I'm making that up or not...also I've never eaten so many croissants or baguettes with cheese in my life and I couldn't be happier. Today we lounged around the luxembourg gardens for lunch and watched three idiots drinking 2 6-packs of Desperados (beer flavored with tequila). Also met some kid who proceeded to inform me that the American portion size is 2 or 3 10" pizzas and the european portion size is 1/4 of a 10" pizza (plus cigarette)...I was like...um, no. When I mentioned studying economics, he proceeded to ask me who my favorite economist was and was I a Greenspan or a Bernanke. I kindly informed him I wasn't about to waste my breath on a meaningless economic/political debate with someone who doesn't actually listen but just spews whatever random facts he knows and expects to be considered knowledgeable. Then I read some Hemingway and pretended he wasn't there.
Also the dude who handed us the 4 mini-pizza boxes said to me that he wouldn't give me the boxes. "Here in France the women are not trusted with things, it is always the men. You will learn this in a few months". Instead of punching the idiot and being deported or whatever, I contented myself with a withering stare.
Also, my host dad is an incredible baker...and he's a jazz guitarist. One of the 7 best in the world. He was invited to the white house to play for the Clintons, but it was in 1995 and he said that Bill wasn't there because he was probably with Monica Lewinsky somewhere.
The guinea pig is squeaking. I didn't realize guinea pigs could squeak until I got here. How do you say ear-plugs in French? It's also really cold here. Probably should have left some of the summer dresses and brought a jacket instead...nbd
Also the dude who handed us the 4 mini-pizza boxes said to me that he wouldn't give me the boxes. "Here in France the women are not trusted with things, it is always the men. You will learn this in a few months". Instead of punching the idiot and being deported or whatever, I contented myself with a withering stare.
Also, my host dad is an incredible baker...and he's a jazz guitarist. One of the 7 best in the world. He was invited to the white house to play for the Clintons, but it was in 1995 and he said that Bill wasn't there because he was probably with Monica Lewinsky somewhere.
The guinea pig is squeaking. I didn't realize guinea pigs could squeak until I got here. How do you say ear-plugs in French? It's also really cold here. Probably should have left some of the summer dresses and brought a jacket instead...nbd
28 August 2011
26 August 2011
orientations
Orientations have begun. I honestly didn't realize this school was such a huge deal until I got here. My host parents asked me where I'd be studying and I told them and their eyes got all huge and awed...which makes me exceedingly nervous considering I didn't actually have to be accepted here, I just had to fill out the BC form saying where I wanted to go. Considering I was more or less like "yeah whatever I'll go to Paris for the year..." I didn't realize I'd be at a political-genius minting factory. Goodbye decent GPA.
There is an entire weeks worth of courses on the methodology alone and I've been having nightmares about the exposé (oral presentation) since I despise public speaking more than anything in the world except house-pets and wearing heels on cobblestones.
The topics of essays can be "1956" or "Louis-Phillipe, king of Frenchmen" or "Napolean, follower or grave-digger of the Revolution" then I have to come to the problematique (the paradox/question that will be answered in the dissertation). Things to think about: the use of "Frenchmen" instead of "France", 1956 as the turning point in international politics in the context of the Cold War. blah blah blah. I'm going to fail. Sorry mom and dad.
If anyone would care to enlighten me as to how I can write a dissertation on how "being bourgeois" and "living bourgeois" are radically different, I'd be much obliged. Why can't we just call it an essay? That's so much less intimidating.
Each night has been a different bar for Sciences Po international students. Drinks here are just astronomically priced. Paid £4 for a glass of Coke a few nights ago. I need to stop translating everything into dollars. It's depressing.
Things I miss: my (mom's) car, american Coke, pennies, quiet, smiling, my friends.
Things I don't miss: Starbucks, sweatpants, pennies, the Mods on weekend-nights, the T.
The metro here is ridiculously efficient (except when the workers are on strike, which will happen at some point while I'm here, I'm told).
There is an entire weeks worth of courses on the methodology alone and I've been having nightmares about the exposé (oral presentation) since I despise public speaking more than anything in the world except house-pets and wearing heels on cobblestones.
The topics of essays can be "1956" or "Louis-Phillipe, king of Frenchmen" or "Napolean, follower or grave-digger of the Revolution" then I have to come to the problematique (the paradox/question that will be answered in the dissertation). Things to think about: the use of "Frenchmen" instead of "France", 1956 as the turning point in international politics in the context of the Cold War. blah blah blah. I'm going to fail. Sorry mom and dad.
If anyone would care to enlighten me as to how I can write a dissertation on how "being bourgeois" and "living bourgeois" are radically different, I'd be much obliged. Why can't we just call it an essay? That's so much less intimidating.
Each night has been a different bar for Sciences Po international students. Drinks here are just astronomically priced. Paid £4 for a glass of Coke a few nights ago. I need to stop translating everything into dollars. It's depressing.
Things I miss: my (mom's) car, american Coke, pennies, quiet, smiling, my friends.
Things I don't miss: Starbucks, sweatpants, pennies, the Mods on weekend-nights, the T.
The metro here is ridiculously efficient (except when the workers are on strike, which will happen at some point while I'm here, I'm told).
25 August 2011
our lady
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| Notre Dame |
23 August 2011
je suis là !
I've been here since Sunday morning and I'm somehow still not over jet-lag. Our bus tour of the tourist hot-spots of Paris was...informative...for the parts I was awake for. Here are the requisite touristy photos. I live about 25 minutes away from all of the tourist jazz of the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe.
Spent the last two hours walking around my neighborhood, which is host to one of the most famous cemeteries in France...so I strolled around and looked at the family tombs of famous dead diplomats. Was a pretty pleasant afternoon. Now I'm back at rue Paul Strauss ready for my afternoon nap before I do some much needed grocery. Apparently it's a French thing to only buy what you're going to use in the next day or two. The fridge is dead empty. So is my stomach. So that leaves me doing grocery 2x a week so that I don't end up having more stuff in the fridge for myself than a family of 5 has for itself.
Isabelle (my host mom) is an actress. She hasn't been around much so I haven't gotten to chat with her too much. But, she does leave me some french food on the stove before she leaves, which as long as the cats don't get to it first, is usually delicious. Her fiancée, Giles, is supposedly a genius in the baking department, which I'm really excited to experience. Isabelle is literally exactly what I was expecting when I was told I'd be living in a house in the 20e (used to be a working class neighborhood, kind of still is) with a single actress mom (sort of), her 3 kids, 4 cats (there are at least 6), dog, (and add in guinea pigs, mice, and fish). The kids are still on vacation chez grand-mère, so I haven't met them or the dog. Hopefully I like them more than I like the cats. Then again I normally hate cats and I can tolerate these. Good sign.
Last night, went to Salsero in le Quartier Latin, right around the corner from the Notre Dame and basically on the Seine. Got entirely lost for about 30 minutes, then found the bar (which sucked). Whoever chose that place to meet up with Sciences Po kids for the first time is not my favorite person. Instead I went to Le Petit Pont (a cafe/bar two doors down), where they served us drinks on fire. Needless to say, I was highly satisfied with the change of location. Unfortunately, the metro stops running at 1:30 while Parisians dine until all odd hours of the night. As I was leaving the bar around 12:30, there were still many people casually strolling in to sit down.
Took the metro back. I was worried since it was so late and my neighborhood is pretty isolated at nighttime. Rule #1: No eye contact with ANYONE. Oops. Made eye contact with a middle-aged man. Apparently that means one of two things, yes, I would like to enter into conversation with you or yes, I would love it if you would blatantly stare at me for minutes at a time. After a certain point I really couldn't help myself so I shot him a death glare and he continued staring. Now worried I'm going to be the first American student in Paris to get kidnapped I got out at the next stop and got back on a few cars back. Other than that, nothing super sketchy. If you even make eye contact with guys here they start cat-calling, which is really disconcerting especially after being able to smile at everyone and chat with strangers back in the American burbs. So now I'm making a conscious effort to look angry and stare at my feet, which is making it really easy to get lost.
Other than the creepy men, this city is incredible. Can't believe I'm actually here.
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| the Louvre |
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| Arc de Triomphe |
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| Le Tour Eiffel |
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| Arc de Triomphe - Champs Elysées |
Spent the last two hours walking around my neighborhood, which is host to one of the most famous cemeteries in France...so I strolled around and looked at the family tombs of famous dead diplomats. Was a pretty pleasant afternoon. Now I'm back at rue Paul Strauss ready for my afternoon nap before I do some much needed grocery. Apparently it's a French thing to only buy what you're going to use in the next day or two. The fridge is dead empty. So is my stomach. So that leaves me doing grocery 2x a week so that I don't end up having more stuff in the fridge for myself than a family of 5 has for itself.
Isabelle (my host mom) is an actress. She hasn't been around much so I haven't gotten to chat with her too much. But, she does leave me some french food on the stove before she leaves, which as long as the cats don't get to it first, is usually delicious. Her fiancée, Giles, is supposedly a genius in the baking department, which I'm really excited to experience. Isabelle is literally exactly what I was expecting when I was told I'd be living in a house in the 20e (used to be a working class neighborhood, kind of still is) with a single actress mom (sort of), her 3 kids, 4 cats (there are at least 6), dog, (and add in guinea pigs, mice, and fish). The kids are still on vacation chez grand-mère, so I haven't met them or the dog. Hopefully I like them more than I like the cats. Then again I normally hate cats and I can tolerate these. Good sign.
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| Living room at rue Paul Strauss at night |
Last night, went to Salsero in le Quartier Latin, right around the corner from the Notre Dame and basically on the Seine. Got entirely lost for about 30 minutes, then found the bar (which sucked). Whoever chose that place to meet up with Sciences Po kids for the first time is not my favorite person. Instead I went to Le Petit Pont (a cafe/bar two doors down), where they served us drinks on fire. Needless to say, I was highly satisfied with the change of location. Unfortunately, the metro stops running at 1:30 while Parisians dine until all odd hours of the night. As I was leaving the bar around 12:30, there were still many people casually strolling in to sit down.
Took the metro back. I was worried since it was so late and my neighborhood is pretty isolated at nighttime. Rule #1: No eye contact with ANYONE. Oops. Made eye contact with a middle-aged man. Apparently that means one of two things, yes, I would like to enter into conversation with you or yes, I would love it if you would blatantly stare at me for minutes at a time. After a certain point I really couldn't help myself so I shot him a death glare and he continued staring. Now worried I'm going to be the first American student in Paris to get kidnapped I got out at the next stop and got back on a few cars back. Other than that, nothing super sketchy. If you even make eye contact with guys here they start cat-calling, which is really disconcerting especially after being able to smile at everyone and chat with strangers back in the American burbs. So now I'm making a conscious effort to look angry and stare at my feet, which is making it really easy to get lost.
Other than the creepy men, this city is incredible. Can't believe I'm actually here.
17 August 2011
3 days
Let the stomachache begin. My flight is in a little over 3 days. I still need to finish packing and tying up loose ends here but I'm more or less ready. This was an awesome summer, but I'm ready to go try new things and meet new people.
I need to figure out how to squeeze all my stuff into 2 suitcases and a backpack. Shoot! I have to go buy a backpack. I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.
Also have to plan September visits and trips to Morocco and Spain and England and Italy...
Already can't wait for Christmas-time...
Also wish this headache would go away.
I need to figure out how to squeeze all my stuff into 2 suitcases and a backpack. Shoot! I have to go buy a backpack. I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.
Also have to plan September visits and trips to Morocco and Spain and England and Italy...
Already can't wait for Christmas-time...
Also wish this headache would go away.
05 August 2011
01 August 2011
insight
Do you think the porter and the cook have no anecdotes, no experiences, no wonders for you? The walls of their minds are scrawled all over with thoughts.
They shall one day bring a lantern and read the inscriptions.
Emerson.
They shall one day bring a lantern and read the inscriptions.
Emerson.
last hurrah
This was such a good BC weekend. Everybody who is still in the States came up to stay at Dans/in 66. It was hot as balls but we all managed just fine. This weekend was a classic example of decision-making on the margin. Usually, I would skip work in a heartbeat to do...well almost anything, but I'm in desperate need of money to pay for my Parisian adventures and I can no longer put off the saving of the money. So every cent I can save in the next two weeks will be saved. I'm working one last catering shift, then Dzen's for 2 days.
Ended up doing the Schlesinger study. Some dude came to 66 and videotaped me studying for 30 minutes. Then he asked me questions about my study habits to figure out what the likelihood of my using a tablet for school would be (zero). I get 50 bucks for not even an hour of doing what I would normally be doing anyways. Success.
The wedding I catered yesterday was absolutely stunning. The bride and groom were both simple and down-to-earth. There were maybe 50 people, and everybody knew everybody else. It was in a beautiful garden, with ivory tablecloths and simple, white with turquoise and gold trim Tiffany plates. For guest-bags, we just put out to-go containers and people packed away the desserts (Toscanini's Mango Sorbet). Instead of having 7 different glasses for champagne, white, red, and water, and 7 thousand forks she chose to have just a fork and knife and family-style plating (which is super annoying, but makes sense when one of the three dinner options is an entire seared Snapper...like literally they caught the fish and didn't filet anything, just seasoned it and thew it on the grill). Delicious. Even if I didn't get paid it would probably still be worth it since the food is so consistently stupid good.
Tonight's event was a entirely vegan (down to the coffee creamer and apple-butter). Now I feel really healthy...but I kinda really want a fried egg.
It's such a simple concept: be nice to the people who work for you and they'll be nice to the people they're serving and everybody's happy in the end. Most other companies don't get it, but it makes total sense. If the servers are fed and watered, then we're able to last the entire 10 hour shift and the guests notice that we're happy. Then STT gets a good reputation and oh look everyone wins. Such an awesome job. Such an awesome company.
Ended up doing the Schlesinger study. Some dude came to 66 and videotaped me studying for 30 minutes. Then he asked me questions about my study habits to figure out what the likelihood of my using a tablet for school would be (zero). I get 50 bucks for not even an hour of doing what I would normally be doing anyways. Success.
The wedding I catered yesterday was absolutely stunning. The bride and groom were both simple and down-to-earth. There were maybe 50 people, and everybody knew everybody else. It was in a beautiful garden, with ivory tablecloths and simple, white with turquoise and gold trim Tiffany plates. For guest-bags, we just put out to-go containers and people packed away the desserts (Toscanini's Mango Sorbet). Instead of having 7 different glasses for champagne, white, red, and water, and 7 thousand forks she chose to have just a fork and knife and family-style plating (which is super annoying, but makes sense when one of the three dinner options is an entire seared Snapper...like literally they caught the fish and didn't filet anything, just seasoned it and thew it on the grill). Delicious. Even if I didn't get paid it would probably still be worth it since the food is so consistently stupid good.
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| Audubon Society site for the wedding, kind of reminded me of the Secret Garden. |
Tonight's event was a entirely vegan (down to the coffee creamer and apple-butter). Now I feel really healthy...but I kinda really want a fried egg.
It's such a simple concept: be nice to the people who work for you and they'll be nice to the people they're serving and everybody's happy in the end. Most other companies don't get it, but it makes total sense. If the servers are fed and watered, then we're able to last the entire 10 hour shift and the guests notice that we're happy. Then STT gets a good reputation and oh look everyone wins. Such an awesome job. Such an awesome company.
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