Local on the Metro

I had heard since the beginning that Parisians generally keep to themselves on the metro. They typically are listening to music, reading, or (what I enjoy doing for the five minute ride) zoning out. Especially when you're standing under someone's armpit and against someone's bust, you typically try not to make eye contact with anyone. The other day when I was taking the metro home by myself during rush hour, an older man scurried in and trying to make the crowded seats more accommodating for everyone, I scooted over and across to another seat so the older man wouldn't have to climb over the 7 foot man sitting on the other side. As he sat down, he mentioned something in french to me that sounded like "Do I smell? You don't want to sit next to me?" Now, when I see this written out, it does sound a little creepy, but it was exactly the opposite. He clearly didn't realize that I was trying to make a seat available for him. He then laughed and I smiled and he began asking me where I was from, what I was studying, and how I liked Paris. He then told me he worked for himself and designed labels for alcohol, candy, and other sweets. I told him that I wanted to get into advertising and next thing you know, it was my stop! He was the first Parisian that began a conversation with a stranger on the metro and it was nice being able to get a taste of what a local is really like when they aren't giving you directions or trying to sell you something.

Traveling in Paris!

The number one way I commute is either by foot or car at home and in Boulder. When coming to Paris, I didn't give commuting much thought, I just thought that I'd be doing a lot of walking. Turns out I was right, but also a lot of metroing! (New word) I typically take a train to NYC or drive, but never take the subway, because I always walk and was afraid it would be too difficult to figure out. I was definitely hesitant about taking the metro because firstly it's underground, Paris is a large city and the constant warning I received about pickpocketing. Within the first days I felt that I understood the setup and was very pleased at how simple it really is to use. Nearing the end of the trip I've also realized how convenient the metro is, with a large city like Paris, the metro is a well needed transportation system. But it is not as if I love the metro, there has been some good and not so good experiences. Traveling at rush hour, which seems to be different times a day, is not a fun experience. There were a few times I realized I was going the wrong way and I started to get a bit annoyed taking the metro everywhere, at times I would've rather walked, but I see that it really is the best and most convenient way to get around Paris. I've also realized that taking Taxis in Paris is difficult, especially on a weekend night, finding a place to get one was the easier part at times, but definitely one of my least favorite transportation. I would in this case choose the metro over taxis, but unfortunately the Metro isn't open all the time! There was also one point that I may have gotten pick pocketed, a bunch of loud kids pushed their way onto the compartment I was getting on and two of the kids tried talking to me as they leaned up against my body, I tried to move away, but they got as close as the could, and I instantly knew something was up. I was with Julia at the time and she told me one of the girls had a messenger bag with her hand in it and it was open on the bottom. We later saw that those kids had gotten caught. I've enjoyed experiencing the city life of Paris, which heavily included the metro as a big part of my trip here to Paris, but it was also fun and exciting at times, seeing all the different types of people and musicians. I may miss it, but more than anything I've loved walking and running in Paris.

        Last tuesday I finally took the time to go out and get a new skateboard.  Cruisin around the streets of Paris with my new set of wheels has been awesome.  After growing up seeing Parisian skaters in magazines and videos it has been a dream come true to finally ride amongst them.  At first it was hard for me to find skate friendly spots because the cobble stone side walks and busy streets can make skating difficult.  After searching and riding the metro for what seemed like for ever I finally decided to get of at Republique and to my good fortune I found skaters riding around everywhere.  A new plaza had just opened right outside of the metro stop and it was buzzing with skaters.  There were several ledges, a flat box, a gigantic fountain, and beautiful architecture all around, a true Parisian skate spot.  After skating for several minutes I began to make friends with some fellow skaters.  They told me how the plaza had just opened and how the police are recognizing it as a public skate spot allowing kids from all over to come and skate.  This was shocking to me because I have never seen such a huge place where both the citizens and the police not only welcome but encourage skateboarding.  This is an awesome step for skateboarding and skaters all across the world.  It is also extra awesome for me because since it is so new and since I am one of the first dudes to skate at this plaza I feel as if I am going down in skateboard history.  I plan on going back several more times with the few more days that we have left and one day telling my grandkids how I was one of the first to skate Republique.   

Avignon and Arles!

I did so MUCH; it is difficult to know where to begin when talking about my trip to the south of France. First of all it was awesome, so that’s good! But I guess I will start with a little song I learned…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNp1z5mQDSA(watch this, its really corny) 

Anyways, I am much more comfortable with traveling—that’s for sure! Traveling alone in a new country is more difficult then you would think, but I feel like I did pretty well; here are some of my experiences: Buying tickets and getting on the train in Paris was a little terrifying, mostly because I have only ridden a train a handful of times, so I had had a hard time finding my assigned seat—I thought I could just hop on any car and sit down, so I ended up getting on the first class car, and was immediately yelled at in French, so I moved. Also, now I know there are two platforms at Gare de’Lyon, one with letters, and one with numbers. It was confusing, but I figured it out (and not to mention I was still recovering from fete de la music :). Finding a hotel was really pretty easy; all I did was look up hotels on Hostelworld.com before I left, and to my surprise I found a great hotel that was reasonably priced and in the center of Avignon (in fact it was called Hotel Centre). When I arrived in Avignon I took a bus into the main city walls (literally, the city walls, the whole center of town is enclosed in castle walls) and was greeted by a very nice lady working the front desk of my hotel. She told me about the sight seeing, and where to get something to eat—she was very helpful. After that, I simply walked around the quiet willowy streets that snaked around ancient churches and charming shops, until I was good and lost. The cobble stone streets were a beautiful reminder of the city dense history. It felt like I was stepping back to Roman/Medieval times. Pont Avignon (supposedly the most famous bridge in France) was beautiful, and has a really interesting history. It extends out into the powerful Rhone River that has seen many battles in its long European antiquity. After the Pont, I walked through the Pope’s gardens that perch on a large Mediterranean limestone veranda. I got a view of the whole city as well as the distant mountains that rolled across the horizon. On Sunday morning, I got up early and continued my exploration. I toured through the Palais des Papes, which was the Popes’ home from 1309-1377. There were seven Avignon’s popes that lived in the Palais, and they were all corrupt and obsessed with honoring god through luxury and wealth. The papal palace was more like a warlords fortress than a palace, but it was still really beautiful. There was a really strange art exhibition in the main hall of the Palais, where an artist created these grotesque mutilated figures, and put them on steal posts. There was even a decapitated horse hanging from the ceiling (I couldn’t find any information about this exhibition, so it was altogether really creepy). After the Palais des Papes, I took a 20min train ride to Arles. It was another really charming town with a loaded history. I walked around the old Roman Amphitheater and saw Espace Van Gogh, which is the hospital where Van Gogh was treated in 1889. After wondering around all afternoon, I had a really delicious lunch and headed back to Avignon. Both cities were perfectly manageable in the limited time I had. I left for the TGV station feeling very satisfied in the amount that I saw and experienced. However, my train was about and hour-and-half late, so I didn’t get back to Paris until midnight—that wasn’t very fun—but overall the trip was a total success! I had a really great time, and I would highly recommend going if you are ever in southern France! 

Palais des Papes 

 

Dead Horse Hanging in Palais des Papes

Roman Amphitheater in Arles

Some nice looking flowers in Arles

 (above) Espace Van Gogh

Fête de la Musique

Hawai'i is exactly 7459.9 miles from Paris. Residing in Paris this far away from home has been a real mind blowing experience. When telling people where I am from they are amazed on how far I have traveled to further my education. This weekend I received an email from a friend saying he would be in Paris for the weekend. It was really last minute but we managed to all get together before Fête de la Musique began. We headed to a cafe and had lunch with my roommate Nicole and Lea. As we continued to hang out and walk around Paris after lunch, we realized how crazy it was that they last time we hung out was all the way in Hawai'i in December over the holidays. Now, we were in Paris doing the same thing completely around he world. Being in a different country and acclimating to a new language and culture can be hard when you don't know any very well. Meeting up with my friend reassured me that no matter where I am in the world, their is a huge possibility that someone I know is in the same boat. I later meet up with 3 other friends that I knew from Hawai'i at one of the Fête de la Musique tents. At that point I knew that no matter what something will keep me feeling at home. Seeing a familiar face in a unfamiliar country is so comforting. It is truly a bonding experience.
This weekend was very humbling. Staying in Paris for the weekend to attend the festival was the best decision yet. At one point we walked up to Sacre Cœur and the rest of our study abroad group met up with us. Here we were, sitting on the grass under the Catherdal admiring the beautiful view of Paris all together. We were all just a bunch of American students soaking in Parisian culture. The wind blowing in our faces and the joy amongst every one was contagious. Because of this weekend I feel the group has all become much closer. It was a great bonding experience. There is one more weekend left together then our Parisian journey ends, but this weekend was my favorite time in Paris yet.

Cultural post number 3

This weekend in Paris, I realized how much fin it is to experience the culture with the people around me. We went to many places that I will remember and enjoy for the rest of my life. One of these things was the fête de la musique. I attended the festival with Chantel, Lea, Robin, Carly, Luke and a few of Chantel's friends that were in town. This was an amazing experience as we got to see something that I will never have the chance to see again in my life. For the majority of the day we walked around and listened to the music. I liked watching how the people interacted and seemed genuinely happy to be out, even though it was not that warm. Later in the night on our walk back home through Montmartre, Carly, Lea, Chantel and I saw a plethora of interesting things ranging from people puking on the sidewalk to smashed toilets and TVs in the middle of the street. Even at 2 am there were still hoards of people walking through the streets having a good time even though the music had ended. We went back to Chantel and my apartment and tried to make the French version of Mac 'n' Cheese. To put it lightly it was not what we were expecting. Even though we were exhausted the next morning and slept until 1 pm it was well worth the memories and fun.

Something that I've noticed about Paris is the women. I know it's pretty common for women to judge and observe other women in really any other culture but here I feel like observing them is more educational. This all sounds very pervy but in my defense I just admire the attitude, style and aura that the women here give off. In the US, Boulder specifically, (maybe it's just because of our college age) I don't feel the same sort of confidence and powerfulness that I feel here. I love seeing a girl or woman walk by completely confident in herself and looking very powerful. I'm so glad I'm doing my artist presentation on Gabrielle Chanel because I feel like she was one of the founders of that attitude in French women. All around the world French women seem to have the reputation of being confident and not someone to mess with. Nicole, Chantel and I spoke about those over our lunch in a little cafe and seemed to all agree and feel that aura almost coming off on us. I would recommend to any girl growing up or any time in their life really to come to Paris, even with some of the catcalls and Bonjour's, to learn from the best how to be the best and most confident woman that they can be.

Shopping in Paris!

The most shopping I have done in Paris has been for groceries because I know how expensive eating out everyday can be. So I hadn't really gone shopping for pleasure, not until spontaneously I came across a cute jewelry shop near the Louvre. If I am passionate about anything, it is jewelery, it is something that I plan on pursuing. One thing I made sure to leave at home though, was my jewelry, because I couldn't stand losing anything! As I walked past this store, the jewelry displayed in the window instantly caught my eye and I stopped in my tracks. I was with Julia and she remarked that we should go in, good idea I thought, I'll just browse. But when it comes to jewelry I don't just browse, I forget about everything else that is going on and I become consumed. Knowing how stores work, someone would come up to me instantly, and I wasn't sure if I liked anything yet. I soon found myself trying on rings and bracelets, falling in love with everything I tried on. I hadn't really had a long conversation with someone who speaks French, because I myself don't speak any, but I soon found myself discussing jewelry with the woman at the store. I asked where they made the jewelry and about the business, she told me all of the jewelry is made in Paris, and then she asked me where I'm from, ultimately leading to me gushing about opening up a store and designing my own jewelry. This interaction has been the most fun so far because I felt like I was in my element and just enjoying myself, and I was able to connect to someone about something that I am very passionate about. I've already done some more jewelry browsing this weekend, but I'm just admiring for now, I want to make sure I have enough money to buy groceries!

Last night a few members of the group and I were hanging out on the steps of Sacre Coeur.  Stepping back and looking at the city in its entirety really gave me a greater appreciation for Paris.  I was able to see how intricate the city is.  Trying to navigate through the Paris can be confusing and frustrating but seeing it as a whole made Paris seem so much simpler.  All one had to do was sit back and look.  I could see Notre Dame, which was completed in 1345, next to the Centre Pompidou, which opened in 1977, all in one glance.  It made me realize just how much history lies within Paris.  We later got up and began to walk around the area.  Since it was Fete de la Musique bands were playing everywhere.  One of my favorite groups was a French Funk cover band.  They were wearing hilarious retro outfits and were playing some of my favorite songs.  Seeing Parisians in this absurd manner gave me a different perspective on the cities culture.  They did not fit the strict and quite stereotype at all.  It made me feel a lot better about being a goofy American in a city filled with immense beauty and history.  Last night allowed me to see Paris in a whole new light.  

 

Yesterday at the Fete de la Musique, while wandering the streets in the bastille area, we decided that kebabs were a must. I had a feeling street vendors were going to take over the streets that night, and I wasn't disappointed, because the best kebab I have had in Europe was triumphantly devoured last night. Although the ingredients were alright, it wasn't the flavor that made the kebab taste so good, it was the process. With everyone crowding around, I saunter up and exclaim, "Bonjour monsieur, Je prends une Kebab, poulet, s'il vous plait." He sets me up proper, I hand him my twenty euro bill, and he gives me three euros back...

"Excusez-moi, monsieur? J'ai bezoin a plus." (once again, I can't manage much more than baby talk.)

Here he begins this song and dance of arguing with my insufficient french, and handing me a euro every few sentences to try to shut me up. This situation was getting heated and there were raised voices, but I wasn't going to just let my self get swindled. After seeing that I wasn't going anywhere, his buddy standing right next to him, witnessing the whole situation, asked me what I needed in english. I tell him that I paid with a 20 and he only gave me 3 euros back, for a 5 euro sandwich." I successfully held my ground, because the guy reluctantly pulled out his roll of cash and gave me what I needed. His buddy, my original nemesis, was hiding behind the english speaking man pleading with several "Pardon!"'s. I walked away proud that I can see a swindle and deal with it properly if I need to. I'm gonna need to retain this skill and confidence to deal with Amsterdam and Marrakech.

In the end, I had a kebab garnished in triumph. Victory, and chicken, was mine...

The Costumers for the Folies Bergere

  I got to meet a high schooler, Abib, who lives here just outside Paris, but is staying for 8 weeks in an internship program with the Costumers Caracao. The Atelier (workshop) is downstairs, floors One and Two. (On A side Note, There is also a Jewish Temple here, on another part of Floor Two. The men sing in Hebrew on Friday nights (the Sabbath) Saturday and Wednesdays. It's so wonderful to hear men sing! I love it! My Father used to sing the cheerful strutting songs of China for us when I was little.) Abib is a handsome black boy with medium-short wavy/curly hair. He told me all about his internship, and we struggled with our English as a bridge. He is staying until the 27th of June, and then goes back to his rural area nearby until school starts again.
 The seamstresses are dyeing, cutting, pressing, measuring, sewing, and fitting cloth to make incredibly detailed costumes. The ones I saw included a huge double-breasted black suit jacket that swooped down to two tails that surely swept the floor as the actor sang and danced on stage.
 Every other weekend, the zero level floor space has been reserved for a huge sale. The first one was 'el camino' fabrics from Mexico, words like Mayan and Peruvian thrown in for good measure. A pillowcase is 50 Euros. Lots of money for those imports. The next sale was costumes, and I bought a muslin skirt for 15 Euros (which also came with a lightly dyed muslin tunic and undyed gauze scarf.) The bottom edge of the skirt was like all the others on the rack - it was tie dyed with faint peach and purple to make it look like poor people's stained garments. It was torn to make a bottom edge - no seam - so since it was too long I took it upstairs and tore about a foot off of it. Julia was shocked. "You already shortened it!?" she exclaimed. Some knowledge of the strength of the fabric and how it was sewn helped me to do this. I've been wearing the skirt at home on hot days and it's wonderful, despite how heavy the muslin really is. It still keeps me cool. I wore it to Giverny.
 Abib has continued to find me in the hallway, wave and smile with his big, glowing white teeth. The other seamstresses don't know how to talk to me until I say, "Bonjour!" and then all the worries fade from their face and they quit looking so 'French and shut down.' They smile and like to recognize me. I have to do the greeting most of the time, however.
 At the sale they offer a smoking area (our little shared courtyard) and offer fruit and wine. They also have a marvelous curtained coat room that they separated from the sale area, and also a fitting room. Leave it to a folies seamstress to know about curtains!

Battle of the Gare

The second weekend we were here, Carly and I decided to spend a few days down in Aix-en-Provence. I had heard how simple it was to travel by train in Europe and was excited to try it out! Carly and I went to the Accent center to get help buying tickets and booking a hotel online. We had no idea how complicated this was about to be. For one, the train prices kept changing. It was difficult being on two separate computers and both finding the same price for tickets. After my visa was rejected twice, we decided to go to Gare du Lyon and buy them in person. Well, going to the train station on Friday afternoon was just about as bad as asking a French person how many wars they have won. It was so incredibly crowded and of course the only people in Paris that cannot speak English work at the Gare du Lyon. After finally figuring out where to buy train tickets, we waited in line for about an hour and a half. Once it was our turn to buy tickets, the man helped us find a train time from Paris to Aix-en-Provence. We found a time and price that we both agreed on and were ready to pay. Our credit cards were declined. Again. Frustrated and hot, Carly and I went to the ATM to withdraw an unsafe amount of money to buy these tickets. Carly's card only allowed her to withdraw 20 euros. So, we took the metro back home and Carly collected the exact amount of euros needed to buy tickets. We finally were able to purchase tickets to Aix-en-Provence but it was definitely a process. I never wanted to experience that frustration again. Well, just last Sunday, I went to Gare du Nord to buy tickets to Cannes for my sister and I. I had no problem finding the area where they were selling tickets and I was a little disappointed when I saw how long the line was. However, I waited approximately 20 minutes and had the best service I have experienced in France. The woman was very understanding of my choppy french and we found great times and prices for the train ride to Cannes. When she told me the price, she also mentioned a youth discount that my sister and I would both qualify for. Now, this french was getting pretty tricky, and I didn't mind spending the extra 30 euros without the youth discount. When I said I was okay with the more expensive option, she looked at me like I was making a mistake. She said she would be right back and found a worker that could speak english. The english speaking worker explained the youth discount and that it was a no brainer to take advantage of this opportunity. She also explained what I needed to do with my ticket once I got to the station, what time I needed to arrive before the train departed, and how to use my youth discount. Gare du Nord for the win! I told her how nice and helpful she was, and walked away holding my tickets with a smile on.

Nancy.

I remember arriving in Nancy on the bus. I woke up just in time to see the beautiful city. Getting away from Paris and experiencing a different city in France was a breath of fresh air. When thinking of Paris I think of cafe's, cigarette smoking, black entire, and red lipstick. Nancy was different. The air was fresh, the sun was shining, and I felt at home right away. After walking around and visiting the museum that day we went to the Place Stanislas. Immediately I was blown away by how beautiful Place Stanislas was with the tall golden gates, fountain, and statues. I could feel the history in the architecture. Being in Nancy reminded me about how every city you visit has a history. It makes that city what it is. It is an eye opening experience that puts my world more in perspective. Living in America is different because our country is still young compared to other countries. It's not everyday that you get to see a piece of art work or a beautiful sculpture hundreds of years old on your daily stroll to class.

Post #2 !

This past week Lea, Doug, Luke and I went to the bookstore Shakespeare and Company. Right before we went to Shakespeare and Company we went to a vintage bookstore where basically all the books were in French and the employees spoke broken English. When we arrived at Shakespeare and Company, there was a line of people out the door waiting to go in. After standing in line for a few seconds we realized that everyone around us was speaking English. Not only that but the majority of people seemed to be American. After entering the bookstore it was hard to remember that we were even in Paris. It reminded me of how easy and comforting it is to be an area where everyone is speaking the same language as me. I didn't have to form sentences in my head before speaking them. Probably the most reassuring aspect of the trip was the fact that the people were dressed like Americans. Meaning no one was unbearable chic, and I felt as though my jeans and vans were acceptable to be wearing in public. The experience made me realize how different the Parisian and American cultures are.

Charlotte and I always go to this little store on our street that has really yummy salads that you can get to go. My favorite is the caprese salad or the shrimp/tomato/artichoke heart salad. Charlotte likes to get the caprese salad and pesto pasta which looks insanely good and makes me very jealous when I watch her eat it. We try to eat around, but this place is definitely our most frequented spot, so much so the people who work there all know our faces now! It is comforting to walk by it on the street and see one of them who is standing outside smoking a cigarette and watch their face light up and say "Oh, bonjour!", like "Hey, there go those girls who ALWAYS come here at giggle at their own awful attempts at ordering in French!" So anyway, I had a very disconcerting experience in that store a few days ago. I had just ordered my salad and was on the way to the cash register to pay when I felt someone tapping my shoulder. I turned around right into the tall dark man that was looming over me. I said "Oh, hi!" because for a second I thought it was our friend Muhammad we had met on the steps of Sacre Cur. It turned out he really was a homeless man who wanted money. I was really flustered because the store is so narrow and he was so close to me, literally pushing against me with his chest. I didn't have any change at the time so I couldn't give him money to get him off my case, but when he saw me reaching in my purse for bills to pay for my salad he continued to stand really close to me and demand I give him money, even though I had repeatedly said no and had my hand up in the the universal 'back off/get away' gesture. I was trying to walk past him to get to the cash register and he literally blocked me from going around him, pushing me and asking for money as I continued to say no. Finally I got past him and was at the cash register, looking at the lady behind the counter and the waiter desperately pleading with my eyes for them to help me or say something. I was really shocked they didn't say anything to him or yell at him to get out of their store because I remember store owners/restaurants being very good about making people who were begging leave and this man was openly harassing me. Maybe they were scared of him too, but they were behind the counter and I feel that I am somewhat innocent/helpless looking enough to have others help me out in situations like these. It was incredibly tense and uncomfortable. It took until after the exchange of money and him going to three other patrons, pushing on their shoulders and demanding money before the waiter timidly said "Monsieur, sil vous plait...?" It seemed like a weak attempt to me. The man finally figured out he wasn't going to get what he wanted and threw up his hands, yelling angrily and aggressively in french. He continued to yell as he walked out, and everyone kind of sighed with shaken relief. I understand people are poor and hungry but when things like this happen it is hard to feel safe. This experience reminded me that I have to always be aware of my surroundings and on my guard when I am in a foreign country, and that I cant always rely on or expect others to help me when things turn sour.

Narrative #2

Even after closing the curtains so not a glimmer of sunlight could wake us up Saturday morning, Elizabeth and I awoke to the sound of beating drums, accordions and loud singing at 11am. At first we thought it was just the usual crazy street performers who loiter outside our apartment, but once we wandered onto our balcony we saw a stream of color flowing at the top of Rue Lepic. I quickly ran inside to grab my camera because I felt whatever we were about to see needed to be photographed. We followed the sounds of drums and singing up our street. There was rainbow colored confetti EVERYWHERE and a stream of weirdly dressed people dancing as they marched behind the source of music. We quickly joined our fellow Montmartre neighbors in what felt like the annual Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco.  I fastened my walk into a jog because I needed to see where this music was coming from. After about 3 blocks of dodging kids, dogs and photographers we reached a drum line of electric blue dressed men who were stomping in place, as their women counter parts performed a dance in front of them. The women displayed large head-dresses, flowing blue skirts and plump tummies with belly-button rings. Elizabeth and I decided to continue on with this parade/band/festival (we were still unsure of what exactly we were apart of) for the next hour. I took over 200 pictures and we saw a demographic of the Parisians that I never expected to see. Fun-loving, smiling, excited and screaming people. We even saw a man dressed head to toe in a bright pink Marie Antionette-esque dress that really complimented his chest. After being handed a pamphlet for the event, we soon learned what we were a part of: Carnaval De Montmartre, a party that has been held in the streets of Montmartre every year since 1896. I thoroughly enjoyed feeling like I was finally a part of French culture; no one noticed we were American because all that was exchanged between everyone was smiles and laughter.

My most memorable and gratifying experience during my stay in Paris occurred the day of my presentation (last Thursday). While I was on the Metro to the Louvre, feverishly scribbling notes, I was oblivious to my surroundings and utterly consumed in thought. A middle-aged woman was sitting across from me with her elderly mother, and as they carried on their conversation, I succumbed deeper to my butterfly driven speech-repeating (which I am pretty sure included mouthing words to myself). Interrupting my personal moment of extreme introversion was the middle aged lady, whose name I later learned was Marie. Maybe she mistook me for a French student with my incredible focus and study skills? Part of me took this as a compliment. Or many she was just concerned with how quickly I was writing. Either or, Marie started speaking to me in French, which I now know I made obvious I did not understand with my deer in headlights reaction. She laughed along with her mother, and after the two of them composed themselves, Marie told me in broken English that she really loved my necklace and that it was beautiful. To Marie this was probably a very small part of her day, but to me this moment took me out of my own world and abruptly placed me back in France. Not the France I had previously experienced, but one where the people were more welcoming and cheerful than I had prior assumed. Marie and I had a brief conversation with each other, where she asked me to repeat certain English words for her and she in exchange, God bless her, tried to teach me some French. Our encounter was short, and ended with a heartfelt handshake and a  “Good-luck!”, but for myself I will never forget meeting Marie and how comfortable and at home she made me feel. It was the first time I had spoken to someone while in Paris that wasn’t forced (a waiter etc.), and it was absolutely wonderful.

Lea and I made dinner all the time!!! Had the perfect outdoor patio for it.

Finding your town on the Map

I found some people pointing and talking a great deal about a spot on an artwork at the Pompidou Metz. It was a draftsman's idea of what a new, futuristic city would look like and he was from an architectural school in Rotterdam. But the couple had found their street and told me it was TorDrecht, not Rotterdam! The areas that are wild lands were covered with bronze square-cutout patterns along river-like forms, which they found unimpressive.
https://www.facebook.com/AmyHelenChu/posts/526802930688643:1

Michel Desvigne Paysagiste, 2005, Development Urbain ety paysager de Biesbosch Stad, Pays-Bas.
Wood with metal.

Running in Paris!

One of my hobbies is running, and it's something I couldn't give up coming to Paris, even though it is a few short weeks. So within the first week I found myself searching for a place to run, but I soon realized, it's not the easiest to find places to run in a city. Parks around here are small, and you can enjoy a small walk at best, but I soon found out about the Plantee Promenade. I ran there twice and realized it was too short for my kind of run. My second run there, the park was closing without knowing it, and I had a guard yell at me in French, I politely stopped, and tried my French, but soon gave in because I was confused at what he was saying. This would not be my first time being stopped, I soon found another great place to run, along the Seine, a long enough run to keep me interested. The first run there was fantastic, I felt like myself again and was finally enjoying Paris my way! The second time, I thought I'd switch it up and run on the other side, bad idea! As soon as the path got smaller, a man, security, came straight up to me waving his arms. I politely stopped again and I was a bit more flustered this time, he started speaking to me in French, and I basically knew what he was saying, that I couldn't run there! Yet I told him I don't speak French well and he still took 5 minutes trying to explain to me that I couldn't run there, like I didn't get it the first time! I'd seen many people running on one side, so I continued to follow their lead. I think most of the runners I've seen must be American, can't be sure, but running isn't something big in France from what I've seen. There are definitely some beautiful places to see here and I want to run all over Paris! For the last 3 weeks here, I'm going to try to run in as many different places as I can, because I've found even if I get yelled at, I'm exploring Paris in a new, fun way!