Health, Fat, and Cigarettes

When I came here I had a delusional idea that I was only going to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes and become unhealthily skinny, and then when I went back to America I would become a model or something. Just kidding to the last part, but I definitely didn’t see myself gaining as much weight as I have here. The food is just too good, and there is absolutely no easy way to work out. After tromping around all day to multiple museums I am left with zero to no energy, my feet hurt, and I don’t have the energy to get back on the metro to go to one of the beautiful parks that seem to be the only place people actually run. Back in Boulder or Tacoma I follow a strict workout regime, running or elliptical-ing almost every day for 30-40 minutes. I also don’t indulge in chocolate ice cream, candy, and large amounts of Brie almost every day. Trust me, this is not an overstatement, I do this almost daily. Ask Charlotte. I tried to go on a run once, which was a very interesting experience. I wore pants and a raincoat to cover myself, and I was sweaty and disgusting, and I thought I would be protected from the men that stand around outside their shops, but apparently not. I got yelled at a lot, then I got lost, and I felt extremely unsafe and vulnerable. I tried to understand how all the French women here have maintained their stick thin physique, and have come to the conclusion that they mainly live off cigarettes, which is somewhat verifiable by the appearance of their teeth and the fact they are all chain smoking. Similarly, all the teeny-tiny women in their 40’s and 50’s who were the stick thin girls in their youth are so wrinkly and unhealthy looking I am forever turned off from a diet of cigarettes. Therefore, I will have to tolerate my too-tight jeans, gluten-filled tummy from the bites of baguette I can’t resist, and wait until I get back to the U.S. where you don’t get looked at like an alien from outer space when you work out and treadmills are abundant and easily accessible.

Music in Paris

One thing I have noticed more and more is the amount of music that I see here in Paris. I have seen all kinds of instruments; guitars, oboes, French horns, saxophones, violins, bass clarinets, accordions, people singing, etc. It is really fun for me to see all of this musical talent and variety of instruments because I was in a concert band for eight years and have spent countless hours around these instruments. I think it is really fun to be able to tell who is talented and who is not, and I thank my mom mentally every time I see or hear a musician for forcing me to be in band all those years and take all those music lessons and practice even when I didn’t want to (almost always). Every Sunday morning Charlotte and I wake up and hear a man up the street in Montmartre playing his accordion. Even though it seems incredibly cliché to open the French doors in our tiny apartment on the sixth floor above a spiral wooden staircase to our miniature balcony and see the terra cotta chimneys scattered along the rooftops and hear a man playing French tunes on his creaky accordion, I absolutely adore it. I love the idea of people who have grown up playing an instrument going out into public and displaying their talents, not because it is the only way to make money but because they love what they do and want to show their talent off while making a few extra coins on the side. And for those homeless people sitting on the floor of the metro playing for money, I think there is no sweeter way to beg then to exchange the efforts and joys of music for a few coins. Everywhere I go, weather it be laying on the grass below Sacre Cur, taking the metro, walking down the street to get to class or a museum, or picnicking under the Eiffel Tower, I feel like I am being serenaded. This is something I am definitely going to miss when I am back in the U.S.

The Baguette and the Braids

The children here scream a lot. I mean they really belly-ache it sometimes, even the older ones. The younger ones will start piping up before 7 am. I talked to my friend Sophie LeClerc and she said that in her opinion, France has kept the same authoritative methods she saw as a child; where children are given no place for opinion and are shoved behind the parent's needs, so they cry a lot.
 I wrote this in a cafe on the second island. 

The Orangerie Restaurant.

The outer crust, resistant as a lobster's shell at first tooth, with a little gnawing soon shattered into crispy fragments of toasted flavor. But the inside was nearly missing - with a few stretched fragments spun like an interior frosting. They were the only reminder of the eager, live dough that was once there. 

  A preschooler wanders by, her dad's arm merely a tagline to keep her on course. Her curved finger points out the marvelous windows. She wears a golf cap whose style would have done her dad well (but in a different color, of course!) askew over her fuzzy brown braids. But it doesn't hide her treasured cheek-splotch, some face painting or sticker tattoo from yesterday. There's no telling if it's a butterfly or a doggie. Its purpose, however, is established. If momma removes it too early there may be tears. 

  I beg of you: let her expression of herself come out until she is satisfied. How else can she ever learn to hear her heart?  

Narrative #4

I have never been able to go to sleep early, as I always find the most sincere silence late at night. Since I have been living in Paris, I walk out onto the balcony usually around 1am when I am having trouble sleeping. It is there that I observe the people and apartments below ours in Montmartre. Most of the windows are black with darkness, some lit up by fluorescent French television, while a single apartment window across from ours commonly shows a woman reading the newspaper in her kitchen.

Down on the street are the movements of intoxicated individuals. What I experience in Paris after midnight is a view from my practically hidden balcony of an unknown Paris to most: a humble, real, unwatched population of Montmartre. I think the reason these "creatures" of the night interest me is because they remind me of this idea of the unknown... I myself can guess where they are coming from or where they are going but I dont really know for sure.

Last night I watched as a hooded man walked towards Rue Lepic in a drunken zig zag, like a kind of snail. He had no air of danger or aggression, he was just happily drunk eating some finger food out of a styrofoam to go box.

Up on my balcony I feel safe, hidden and free to observe the world through my own looking glass. Some walk down the street with purpose - other's merely wander. The top of Sacre Couer peeps up above apartment rooftops like a soft serve vanilla ice cream.

More characters I have observed on 7/1/2013:
A woman walking down the middle of the street, happily pushing her hair back behind her ers, smiling at a friend on the sidewalk, the black tails of her coat flowing weightlessly behind her body.

A drunk man opening the passenger side door of a green car, looking inside for 20 seconds, closing the door and walking calmly back to his friend (I assume) down the street. Now they are talking. Now he is stumbling back towards Rue Lepic, opening the door again, seems to be reaching for something. Before walking back to his friend, looks in the front of his car.

An older man comes out from the back of a large, white delivery truck. Carrying his backpack and a huge pile of folded white sheets, he walks up a side street.

The wetness of the gutter shines a street down, looking as if it's illuminated from something below it, rather, within it.

Narrative #3

After missing our 6:25am train from Paris Nord to Amsterdam Centraal, Elizabeth and I were in low spirits, imagining that our late night of partying with group members at a bar in Montmartre would ruin our long weekend. Fortunately, after buying new train tickets and arriving in Amsterdam later that evening, we felt we had reached the promise land. Wandering through the streets of the Leidspien district was like nothing we had ever seen before. Everyone was laughing, embracing and the clinks of pint glasses toasting could be heard all around. We met a few locals, as well as some police officers from London who said they loved Amsterdam so much they came here almost every weekend. They also told us Amsterdam had an amazing venue where musicians from all around Europe came to play. The next morning we awoke very early to catch breakfast at our hostel and get going. That Saturday was an absolute whirlwind. We started at the Van Gogh museum, which included 4 expansive floors of his sketches, paintings and many of his authentic painting palettes  After spending a few hours there, we visited the Diamond Museum, observing crowns and royal jewels. We then went on the Heineken Brewery tour which felt like a an interactive ride at Disney Land. That night we went on the Leidspien pub crawl and met locals from Amsterdam, Rotterdam and visitors from South Africa. I really appreciated the time we spent in Amsterdam because it was such an outstandingly different experience from Paris. It was extremely interesting being able to observe and interact with a culture that is so close to France, yet so unlike it in it's nature. Though we were sad to leave Amsterdam, it made us both grateful and excited to return to Paris. I was unsure if I felt I belonged in Paris, or that I could consider Paris "my home", but after traveling to Amsterdam I feel it cemented my sense of belonging to this unique, lively city.

A Long Stroll Through Montmartre.

Surprisingly Nicole and I have only been up and down our street for the past 5 weeks we have lived in Montmartre. The occasional walk to the grocery store or Sacre Cœur happens a couple times a week but we have never journey any farther. Sunday was a beautiful day. The sun was out shining for the first time in days. We started on our usually stroll towards the grocery store. On the way we stopped at a couple shops to buy some souvenirs. It was nearly 4 pm by the time we ended our little shopping spree and we decided to explore Montmartre. In no time we were hiking up a hill towards the top of the little town. It was so crazy seeing this side of Montmartre. Less crowded with more character. All of a sudden we see a familiar road and continue up it. In the distance music was playing and two angelic voices were heard. As we approach we realize we are in the famous Montmartre square where all the artist hang out and draw portraits of people walking by. The singing came from a couple dress in traditional french performance gear. The women looked as if she belongs in a cabaret show and the man in striped overalls with a beret on. They sang and sang in a very french way. You could tell they loved to perform together and had a love history together. We continued through the square slowly at the pace of the locals and tourist. About a 100 yards away was Sacre Cœur in the distance and so we decided to walk towards it. Nicole and I have never been in Sacre Cœur so we decided to go in. Luckily it was Sunday mass and we saw the actual priest and nuns singing. I couldn't believe that we were able to catch this experience so unexpectedly. Circling the cathedral we soaked in the atmosphere. It was calm, sacred, surreal, and weight lifting. Exiting the cathedral was sad. It was if we were leaving a sanctuary, our safe haven. Down, down, down the steps we walked. So many steps till we reached our small little fork of streets where our apartment laid. That was the end of our journey. This walk reassure me that I will come back to Paris and stay in Montmartre in the future. I can't wait to return to this place that homed me for weeks.

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.