Roses, Skateboards, and My First Day at the Sorbonne

IES sponsors a French/English conversation every Wednesday night. This past week, a guy named Farid brought roses to give to all the ladies present as a late Valentine’s Day gift. Talk about French romantic stereotypes…. Unfortunately, due to a subconscious habit of mine, my rose didn’t last through the night. I tore the petals off. I’m sure Freud would have a lot of say about this incident; probably something about deep inner anger. Usually I open/close a pen or my cellphone while talking. Sometimes, if I get extremely agitated, I wave my hands around. This week it so just happened that I destroyed a beautiful flower. ::sigh:: What is becoming of me?

I borrowed a skateboard from a guy at IES this week. It was a great board and I must admit that I had fun. I haven’t skated in years. It brought back memories of my spiky hair, chains, baggy pants and love for social disruption … some things will not pass away with age.

On other happenings, I had my first class at the famed Sorbonne Friday. It was quite scary. I easily found my way to the campus building by following a mass of young people from the Metro. When in doubt, follow the young! For history students, the Sorbonne has a building located in the north of Paris near the Porte de Clignancourt. Walking through the gates, I felt like I was in a teen movie. Crowds of students lined the sidewalk and stairways. I felt like there were one hundred eyes on me. I would imagine that if I had attended an urban high school, it would have been like that. I found the right room and went in. It was a class on Greek history – not my class. Apparently, there had been a room change and IES was left out of the loop. No worries though. I received a nice packet of information of ancient Greece and walked out of the room. I eventually found the right class and made myself at home. The class promises to be interesting. The only thing I’m dreading are mandatory oral presentations! Yeah, that will be fun.

The Winter Olympics

My weekend was utterly disorganized. As my host mother likes to say, I went to Italy for some pillows, a bathtub and a walk down some italian streets. I give her credit, she is basically right.

Despite the ill-preparedness of our trip, it will always be an adventure I shall remember. Saturday we went to the Winter Olympics in Turino, Italy. It's a two hour train ride from Milano. We bought a one way ticket as we weren't sure when we would be coming back. Because the Olympic events are so spread out in Turino, the city decided to employ buses to shuttle eventgoers from place to place. Nicole and I hopped on one and hoped for the best. On the bus we bumped into a group of fat, loud American students complete with baseball caps, hooded sweatshirt and white tennis shoes. Somehow we all started chatting. They were studying in England for the semester and were amazed that we would want to study in rude Paris. Mysteriously, we lost track of them once we disembarked from the bus....

Only went to one Olympic event: speed skating finals. When Nicole and I found the ticket booth for the ice arena events, there were huge signs saying that speed skating was sold out. Nicole, who really wanted to see speed skating, was downtrodden. While I will not go into details which may stir up some discontentment within myself, I finally suggested that we try to get tickets to any event. Afterall, we did forsake sleep and boatloads of money to come to the Olympics. Once in line, we met up with two skydivers from Arizona. They were incredible. I would imagine that they were both in their early 50s with as much spunk and vigor as any teenager. I can only hope that I will be as young hearted and vigorous when I am their age. At the ticket counter, we somehow got speed skating tickets. To celebrate, our new friends invited us to dinner. We had some wine, ate some soup and pizza, and talked about life experiences. They were both single women who had met participating in some massive skydiving formation in Indonesia. Utterly amazing.

The four of us sat together during the event. The speed skating itself was interesting to watch. I don't think I would intentionally pay 70 euros to watch such an event again, but at least I had fun. Our compatriots knew people in the ABC booth and invited us to a bar tour with the TV crew. It would have been fun but I was not about to forsake my tres cher hotel room. We caught the last train back to Milano. I thought we were going to miss it. It was raining and was hard to judge where we were from the bus windows. Upon disembarking, we both ran for the train. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to buy return tickets.

The train was standing room only. For local trains in Italy, your ticket does not guarantee a seat. It's first come first serve. I prayed that the ticket taker wouldn't show up. But of course, he came rambling through to punch tickets. He spent a good 30 minutes with us. I'm sure we made his list of things to complain about to coworker/significant other/domesticated animal. We gave him our ticket - the ticket to come to Milano. The ticket clearly did not suffice. He wanted to see our return ticket. I told him that we gave him all we had. He said it wasn't good enough. I offered to pay the fine for not having a ticket (we accepted that fact that we would probably have to pay a fine). He refused. Instead he preferred to stand there and lecture us on buying tickets. After his lecture he wanted to see our return ticket. We again informed him that we gave him all we had. This cycle continued for numerous minutes - we acquired the help of a Scot to translate for us while the ticket taker commenced turning various shades of red. Eventually, our good ticket taker walked away. We didn't have to pay. Rock on.

Sunday night we missed our flight back to Paris. I won't go into horrific details about how this happened. Being a small airport, there were no other flights to Paris that night. The next flight on Monday morning was booked. We were waitlisted and told that flying to Brussels the next morning followed by a train to Paris would be our best option. Just what I wanted to hear. So this is how we spent the night in an italian airport. About 2:00 in the morning, the military shows up and kicks everyone out. My host mother is convinced they were merely airport security. I'm convinced I don't want to go to Italy again if airport security wears combat boots and carries sub-machine guns. Regardless, everyone was forced into a building across the street for 3 hours. In the morning, our waitlisting paid off as we got seats on the first flight to Paris. I was so happy to be "home!" I just wanted to grab the first french person I saw and kiss him/her - luckily for him/her, I refrained.

Italy has definitely not got anything on France! I will always be a francophile. Amen.

Pillow Service

Our hotel in Milano was the nicest hotel I have ever stayed in. Nice automatically must mean complicated because it took us a while to figure out how things worked ... laugh if you want, but I'm not accustomed to such places. At least I'm learning now.... For example, the lights only worked if a key was put in a key sensor near the door; it took us a good 15 minutes to figure this out. The windows and window shades were automatic!!! There were buttons beside each bed for controlling the windows in addition to a remote control. Imagine! Our room had a bedroom which connected to the living room. There was also a little kitchette and an elevated garbage can without a bottom - I don't know if the garbage can thing was intentional, but it made me laugh. The bathroom was HUGE complete with a toilet, a bidet, marble sink, and a rather large tub. For the price, I decided to enjoy it.

There was a pamphlet beside my bed about the hotel's pillow service. In addition to the provided pillows, one could order special pillows such as a memory form pillow, a body pillow, a hypoallergenic pillow, a pillow filled with wheat, one for around the neck, a super large feather pillow, etc. I discovered a large feather pillow in the closet but I wasn't satisfied. Therefore I went to the front desk to order pillows. A rather shady front desk employee informed me that additional pillows could not be brought to the room because housekeeping was not in. Who ever heard of housekeeping not being in the hotel? Absurd. The shady fellow told me that if I asked in the morning, something could be arranged. Hmph! I was too tired to get my way and so retreated back to the hotel room. I am happy to inform you all that I did sleep wonderfully with the feather pillow that night. My host pillow (at the french host mother's apartment) is a wide, flat pillow that I usually ball up to sleep on. Those of you who have seen my Pennsylvania apartment (or know me well) know that I love pillows ... I regularly sleep with about 8 of them! I digress. The next morning, after eating at the largest breakfast buffet I have ever seen, I inquired about pillows. I asked for two wheat-filled neck pillows to be brought up. Sadly, at the end of the day, there was only one wheat-filled neck pillow awaiting us. I have Nicole first dibs - she tired it and declared it odd. I seized the opportunity for a new pillow experience and promptly utilized the new-fangled pillow. Just imagine this crazy yoho with a pillow around her neck, a feather pillow to snuggle with and a regular pillow for the feet! It was truly bliss.

Olympic adventures to come ... Cheers!

P.S. The hotel also had bubble bath solution!!! I hadn't taken a bubble bath in years. It was so much fun. Plus I could basically swim in this tub, so all the better for me! The only thing I needed was a rubber ducky.

The Alps from the Sky ...

Ok, so where was I ...? Oh yes, the bus. Nicole and I took the bus to an airport about an hour outside of Paris. I don't remember much of the ride because I fell asleep and probably made loud breathing noises while I was at it. The airport itself was more like an airplane hanger with a little restaurant than an actual airport. The doors were made of that thick plastic-like material used between compartments in industrial freezers (if you have never been in one, well, too bad for you). When the wind blew, the doors opened. The wind blew a lot. It was cold.

After checking in our bags, we merged with other sleepy people into the line for the restaurant. Being France, the breakfast selection consisted of croissants, bread with chocolate in the middle and/or breakfast drinks. I love croissants! My breakfast was a delightful meal of croissants and peach nectar. How wonderful!

To board the plane, I had to walk through a metal detector. Simple enough. Nicole had some problems though. After removing every article of metal on her body, she still set off the detector. Oh well. After being thoroughly searched, Nicole was declared as not a terroristic threat and we boarded the plane. I got lucky with a window seat. I love window seats! I can open the little window blind at my leisure and look out at the world below me. It thrills me every time. I digress. I fell asleep as the cabin crew went over the safely instructions. Good thing we didn't crash because I would not have known where my lifejacket was ... not that it would help much.

After sleeping for some time, I awake to an attendant offering coffee. I decline the offer and open the window. The plane was above the cloud line but as I find clouds amazing, I gazed at the cloud formations. Suddenly I saw a jagged white something sticking out of the clouds. It was a snow-covered peak!!! I got so excited that I woke up Nicole. As we flew, I continued to see white peaks. As the plane began it's descent, blue/gray mountains appeared. Ah, the beauty!



We landed in a small italian town in the Alps called Bergamo. Bergamo is about a 1.5 hour train ride from Milano. I had researched online and found that Bergamo had been a fortress city - with the fortified parts now called the old town. The old town was built on a mountain and still retains its original design complete with cobblestone streets. Since we were in Bergamo anyway, we took the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon to explore the old town. It was my favorite part of the trip. We ate gelato and walked the narrow streets. I would imagine that living there requires physical leg strength because the hills are quite large. In other words, my legs were extremely tired. I'm glad I was not wearing heels and that it was not raining as one or both might have been disastrous. Photos coming soon. Until next time ... much love.

Viewing the Alps from the Sky

I walked out of the apartment in the middle of the night. I know doing such things implies "shadyness", but I just couldn't tell the cake eating monster that I wouldn't be there over the weekend. I wanted her to be disappointed that she couldn't order me around any longer ... in the apartment I am paying 650 euros a month for!!! ::moment of silence for regaining of composure::

So my friend Nicole wanted to go to the Winter Olympics this weekend. I was hesitant but decided to go along with the idea. It sounded cheap, so why not. Airplane tickets were supposed to be around 50 euros. However, Nicole forgot to factor in taxes. So tickets ended up being 150 euros which is still not a bad price. Then comes the hotel horror. Nicole was convinced that there would be plenty of hotels available for our stay if we stayed in Milan rather than in Turin (where the Olympics are being held). What I didn't know is that she did not check any of this out. Much to our dismay, there were no cheap hotels remaining in Milan. And by cheap, I'm talking under 100 euros a night. The only ones left were these fancy 4 and 5 star hotels which cost a bundle. I wanted to back out. I figured that forfeiting 150 euros on plane tickets is much better than spending an additional whole lot more on a hotel. (Word to the wise, NEVER book a flight before booking a hotel, or at least before making sure there is enough room at various inns. Hotels are much easier to cancel if the flight doesn't work out.) Nicole really wanted me to come as she did not want to go to Italy by herself. Understandable. She knows I am not made of diamonds. Therefore, because her parents were understandably concerned for her welfare and were aware of my monetary situation, they offered to pay for a nice hotel. Rock on if they really want to do such a thing.

**Random side note to anyone reading this: If your parents paid for your college education, I hope you know how incredibly blessed you are. At my program, I am surrounded by kids who think nothing of putting their 300 euro shoe purchases on their parents' credit cards. These are also the same kids who complain about not having enough money. My question: Enough money for what? So you can buy the Taj Malhal? Might I remind us all, including myself, that there is an enormous about of people in this world who live on less than $2 a day.

I booked the cheapest hotel I could find in Milan. I won't disclose how much, but let's just say it was over 250. So now we had a flight and a hotel. Things are great. The flight is with RyanAir. A cheap service that gets you where you need to go. However, as we found out, the airport is an hour outside of Paris. grr. Three hours before all flights, the airport runs a bus service from Paris to the Paris-Beauvais airport. This means our bus departs at 5:30.

The Metro doesn’t start until 5 and it would have been impossible to get to the bus stop before 5:30. So Nicole and I took the night bus. It took us three hours!!! So VERY long story short, that is why I left the apartment in the middle of the night. The rest of the adventures to come ….

The Bloody Cake Eating Lady

For Valentine's Day, my friend Nicole made dinner. I bought a yummy heart shaped cake for dessert. We had a good time and all was well with the world. I bought half of the cake home and planned on eating it later.

Fast forward to Wednesday evening. As I wrote in a previous post, Madame is vacationing in the south of France this week. A few days before she left, Madame had mentioned a friend was coming over and spending the night. I assumed the friend would be coming before Madame left for the south. I hadn't seen anyone before she left and at this point, I just assumed that I had merely missed seeing the friend or the person decided not to come. So because Madame has been away, I have been my usual slightly messy self. There were some dishes piled up in the sink and I had spread my homework over the dining room table. There I was, sitting happily with my books and pizza (yes, I eat pizza in France) at the dining room table. I receive a telephone call from Madame at 8:32 asking if all was well. My first thought was "Madame is calling to check up on me." Then the bomb hit: "My friend is at the door, she just phoned, could you let her up?" WHAT! I hang up with Madame. It's now 8:36 and the door buzzer rings. Couldn't you have given me more time person? Firstly I don't quite know how to operate the door buzzer thingie. Secondly, I have items strewn about the apartment. Thirdly, there is a person about to invade my space. I honestly ran in a circle as I wasn't sure which item to attend to first. I decided dishes were the most important, so I shoved them in the dishwasher. After which I ran to let the person in the apartment - I told the person that I couldn't figure out the buzzer. So that is how I let a bubbly French women with lots of luggage into the apartment.

Let me tell you all a little story about me and "bubbliness." I love all sorts of people and can get along with just about anyone. That being said, when I study - I study intensely. I do not want to be bothered. I like my independence and my solitude in my study space. Cat took one look at this lady and fled to the living room. After listening to her for a half hour, I did about the same - I said goodnight and went to my room. Too bad my room is beside this lady's new headquarters. She talked on the phone until 3:00 in the morning. I know this because I was writing papers all night. When she wasn't on the phone, she was walking around the apartment (mainly the kitchen). When I went to the kitchen around 2:30 for some water, I found her in there with the fridge door open and lots of food spread out on the counter. She smiled at me. I thought it was weird, but went back to bed.

Thursday morning. I get up for school and get ready. I go to the kitchen for a yummy breakfast of cake (I'm a college student - I eat what I want). It is gone! We are talking about a huge half of a cake. I look in the garbage can and the empty cake box is in there. The bloody lady ate my Valentine's Day Cake! I mean this wasn't like some cookies or an ordinary cake. It was a beautiful, ornate cake filled with strawberry mousse and decorated with berries. It was expensive. It was beautiful. It was huge. It was clearly not some random thing in the fridge. It was gone. I wouldn't have minded her taking a piece, but the whole thing!!! I am extremely ticked off at this point. I then look for my "real" breakfast items in the fridge. All my yogurt and fruit was gone as well. Plus the cake that I made over the weekend. ARGH. She ate ALL my breakfast food and my junk food!

Throughout the course of the day, I made peace with the fact that my food was gone and not returning in any form I would like to deal with. I hoped the lady would be gone when I returned. Not only was she there upon my return, but there was a small child running around the apartment! It was a long day, I had not eaten. I was hungry. I was not amused at the fact that not only had the lady not left, but that there was also a child running about. When I go to the fridge for food, the lady hollers at me. She tells me that all the food on the first two shelves is for her and the little kid. I smiled, said ok, then took whatever I wanted.

Bad Wine and Pumpkin Soup

Madame has left me alone for another week. She is vacationing in the South of France. ::sigh:: So my dinner options are limited as I don't know how to cook well. Plus you can never really tell how old something is in Madame's fridge. I found green bread the other day. I really don't want to know how long it has been in there. In true Madame fashion, she forgets about the food she has. Tonight's selection was pumpkin soup and red wine. I should have known not to drink wine that smelled exactly like rubbing alcohol. It burned going down. I just hope I don't get sick. The pumpkin soup was bought last week, therefore I have no doubts about its goodness.

It was a rather slow weekend. Slow is good sometimes. Despite my better judgment, I slept in Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. If I would get to bed before 2 AM, perhaps I would have a better chance at waking up. The most adventurous thing happened Friday morning. I awoke to Cat peeing on my bed. I don't know why he did it. Perhaps it was some sort of Feline revenge. I guess I'll never know. Anyway, it took me most of the morning and afternoon to clean everything up. If you're wondering why this is so, let me tell you a few things about French washers/dryers. They are TINY. When washing/drying the comforter, I would have stop the machine every 10 min. in order to turn the fabric so it would be evenly washed/dried. Another ::sigh::.

Class Survival

I survived 6 hours of classes today. Six hours doesn’t seem like a lot, but consider that I only had one 15 minute break. I originally only had 4.5 hours on Tuesdays/Thursdays, but I dropped my feminine literature class for a European Cinema class (which I love). I’ve never taken a film class and am all excitement. This semester will probably be the most artsy semester ever as I also have a theatre class and an aesthetics class. In addition, I’m taking classes in Political Science (the European Union), History (modern history since 1990), and French (grammar). I think this would also be an easy semester if everything weren’t in French! ::sigh::

Madame is now home. We had dinner together tonight (Sausage Quiche). I helped her load pictures onto her computer. All is well with life in Levallois.