Le Picnic

1 : an excursion or outing with food usually provided by members of the group and eaten in the open

2  : a pleasant or amusingly carefree experience

The sun is out in Paris and I am celebrating by eating outdoors. 

 After writing a 4 hour midterm on French political history, we celebrated with wine and chocolate tarts in Luxembourg. Luxury at its best. 

Fresh baguette tastes best when it is eating with camembert and strawberry jam, preferably in Place de Vosges on a lazy Sunday.

Hiding from the sun in the 20th after a long day of flea market hunting  and getting lost on bikes.

Strawberries and Cream

My roommate and I are starting to rub off on each other. She is drinking tea and quoting mean girls, and I am reading climate change articles while eating strawberries the Norwegian way (with cream and sugar). While I am certainly not speaking enough French, I feel like this cultural osmosis is not so bad.

There is something I have been noticing about the general parisien mentality, which I would sum up as "if you don't see it it doesnt exist". I feel like this is most obvious when someone is inconspicuously unaware when their dog is pooping in the middle of the sidewalk, but extends to France's social policies. I'm not criticizing France's policies (except for the complete ban on gay marriage and adoption), but it is very different from Canada. While we are more of an "lets embrace our diversity!!!!" kind of country, France is more of "what diversity? we are all french" kind of country. This difference is also apparent in my acute awareness of what is Politically correct, something which does not quite exist here.

Maybe this is one of the reasons I so often feel like the French are being rude - if I bump into someone, my Canadian upbringing is to apologize profusly. If you get knocked over by a French madame? She "didn't notice". I also realized that I have unknowingly become much better at ignoring then I ever thought possible. While I probably get asked for money at least one a day be it by a child, a drunk playing the trumpet or a teenager with a puppy on their lap, I have probably emptied my pockets into their awaiting cup around 5 times.

I am not sure if the tendency to turn a blind eye is a terribly detrimental to my emotional development of if it is a necessary survival skill of this city. However, sometimes whether you want to or not you are thrust into the middle of what you have been trying to ignore. Yesterday when I was walking to a coffee shop to study, I got overwhelmed with pepper spray as I hurried by 4 police officers forcefully arresting a group of guys. Suddenly "the mean streets of paris" were painfully apparent (and burning my nose and throat).

zoot alors

zoot suit: A man's suit popular during the early 1940s, characterized by full-legged, tight-cuffed trousers and a long coat with wide lapels and heavily padded, wide shoulders.

zut alors!: shucks, dang, shoot.

This is the first time I have had to write an entire essay in one night (very unusual given the fact that its my 3rd year as an arts student). I am writing about the social significance of the zoot suit, and while it is an interesting topic, I would rather be celebrating the fact that today i delivered a 15 minute oral presentation in French arguing that Fascism does indeed have an ideological basis. And then was interrogated on the topic in front of the class.

This song makes it better: reminds me of something familiar in a way that I can't quite explain.

The sky is falling

The sky hates me. Evidence:

Today I walked to school early, pretty chipper about my work motivation, when I felt something SPLATTER on my backpack and sweater. Yes, a bird had pooped all over me. There is something cosmically unjust about getting suddenly hit  from above.

Later on in the day I decided to take a jog to celebrate the amazing weather when out of nowhere the skies erupted into a torrential downpour. Twenty minutes after I had skipped out my door I was trudging back past the whistling men, this time completely soaked.

Tonight I will be dancing to this and forgetting about the falling sky:



I am also currently on a facebook strike, so I have been reading the news much more then I normally do. Health care, yay, Sarkozy dropping his climate plans, definite nay.

Evenings and Weekends

Sometimes you want to check out a trendy new restaurant. Sometimes you want to stay up late drinking red wine and smoking hand rolled cigarettes (if you smoked that is). Sometimes want to take long meandering walks around Paris, stopping to eat flaky pastries in a garden or by the river. Or sometimes, you want to watch movies, get your homework done, and eat lots and lots of pancakes.

This weekend was pancake weekend. We made ours from scratch thanks to good Old Canadian living recipe book and ate them with lots of real maple syrup and good company. It was lovely.

However with that said, I did go to Yeasayer on Friday which was AWESOME despite missing the first half of the set.(Parisian concerts begin awfully early)I tried to post a video of it and failed, but there was lots of bouncing around and the band was giving their all in neon patterned jumpsuits.

Next weekend I have fun arriving on a train from Germany - I am pretty darn excited.

It's a Fresh Spring so Let's Sing...

Spring has arrived in Paris. I have never been someone who really lets the weather affect their mood, but now I realize that is  because I have never lived in Paris. I had forgotten how different the city is when everyone switches to bikes and drinks their expresso outside. Within a matter of 3 days, the city has transformed itself and I love it.

In other news, I have been very busy lately. I spent my "winter break" going around central Europe which was a really amazing experience. Too much to say to sum it all up, but some of the highlights were the outdoor  mineral baths in Budapest and  going ice skating in sunny Vienna.  I was initially worried about traveling with with 6 people but it ended up working out better that I could have imagined. We also managed to pick up a straggler or two in every city, so we switched up the group dynamic a bit.

The following weekend was a visit to Lyon to stay with a real french girl and to go to the Florence and the Machine Concert. Hightlights - getting on stage and dancing with Florence, and biking around beautiful calm Lyon.

Now I am back in Paris, and while I have to finally deal with all the school work that has been pilling up its not so bad because I can study outside. I have also realized how many visiters I will be getting in the next couple months and I can't wait.

Warning: this is a rant.

To fully explain my day, a short backstory is necessary. I am in the process of getting my "carte de sejours", which is basically a long stay visa which says I am studying in France and not going to leach  off of  french social benefits. I have been in the process of attaining this magical passport stamp for quite some time, and the last step in my journey is a doctors appointment which will approve me healthy and able. However, I moved apartments over the holidays and my address change got lost in the hubub, meaning that the governement had no way of notifying me of the appointment. Long story short - I am going to Prague on thursday, and the only documentation of my status in France is an expired temporary visa. Not the best. So, I decided to call my father - his suggestion, which seemed like a good one, was to go to the Canadian embassy and plead my cause. Which begins my day:

10.00 - ride metro to the 8th arroundissement to the embassy (with high hopes may i add)

10.45 - after getting a little lost at the biggest roundabout in Paris, find the embassy, go through a series of security devices and xray machines and get my number. 

11.30 -  told by an not so welcoming embassy personal that Canada can't help me, I need french immigration servies

12.00 - realize that in my flustered state i rode the metro 4 stops in the wrong direction.  

13.00 - waiting in line at the French Immigration office back in the 11th arroundissement

13.20 - told that I have no reason to be here and should be at the Police Precinct in the first

13.40 - on the metro to the 1rst arroundissement, notice that the what i thought was friendly homeless men squished next to me is holding a KNIFE. Hop off metro and get into a different car (strangely enough my reason for moving was not my own safety but the thought that if the guy made a pass at my bag I would lose all documents and be 10 steps behind in the terrible cat and mouse game that is french bureacracy)

14.10 - go through many a security check point to be let into the visa office at the precinct. Met by an even angrier women then the Canadian and told that the student visa office has branched out - to the 18th.

14.20 - short crying jag by the river.

14.35 - back on the metro, this time to the very last stop up north.

15.00 - lost in the 18th.

15.30 - Go through metal detectors, find the right door, grab a number.

16.00 - for the first time, finally get to sit down face to face with someone in a cubicle. Start to tear up in gratitude.

16.30 - am giving the magical doctors appointment, on a Thursday, the day before i leave for prague. This may have been partially dear to to the fact that i was a) soaking wet form the rain b) on the verge of tears  c) the most gracious (and pathetic) person in the world

17.00 - In bed with a jar of nutella.

Today I went to 4 different offices, rode the metro 7 times (and transfered 4 times), went through 3 xray machines, got whistled at 2 times, and ate 1 pick-me-up pain of chocolate. 

Lesson learned - persist, persist, persist. And French bureaucracy is a terrible unavoidable thing.