Just discovered the "comments" feature!

Oh, hey guys! Sorry I didn't respond to various specific questions yet, I only just realized people had commented. So here's some specific responses among other things:

Why the protest?
It's still rather unclear, but what I think I know at this point is that within the French public university system students training to become professors have certain requirements regarding the amount they have to teach and the amount of research they have to do on top of written/examination requirements. If someone fulfills these requirements, they are automatically qualified to become a professor. Someone in the French government is proposing to change these regulations, and most professors (who teach the seminars)/teaching researchers (profs in training who teach the related discussion classes) are against the amendment, I think because it's very specific about how much time is required for each thing and it's a lot of time for each; one of my profs said she hadn't had time for a vacation in 3 years. The professors are striking until the gov't official agrees to toss the bill or whatever, but the other side isn't standing down. If I figure out more, I'll explain later. Oh yeah, and turns out the turnout for the march I went to was 50,000 professors and students, even bigger than I could have imagined...

I just want to learn
Over winter break (heh, guess I'm still there...) I started realizing how many credits I still had to go inin order to be able to graduate on time, and kind of panicked. I felt great when I finally picked out my classes for this semester, but then none were actually happening. This just kind of threw me back into panic mode, especially because I was in an unfamiliar place surrounded by people I barely knew. Also, yeah, I really want to learn about architecture in ancient China and India, and they won't let me. Sometimes I tell people I took AP Psychology, and then I laugh at the inaccuracy of that statement. Strangely enough, though, I use the things I half-learned there in the real world more than almost anything I learned in other classes... Think how much more thoroughly I could interact with the world if we'd done any work in there?? PS: lmao at the subway site. Fuckin' hilarious... I'll keep an eye out for interesting metro people so I can contribute.

Sketches to come once they happen... waiting for the weather to warm up a little :)

Classes?
Classes are supposedly starting this Monday, March 2. March. We had two weeks of strike instead of the first two weeks of class, followed by a week of vacation from...striking, apparently, except that today alone there were 2 demonstrations scheduled. My host family is awesome, I spent the afternoon with my host sister and father at a car part store picking out a bass speaker for her Twingo. BTW, this is a Twingo:


I feel like I get along with my host sister really well, which is nice since I'm still getting adjusted. She's been renting movies in sets of three by director to get to know the styles of those she's unfamiliar with. We watched two (she watched 3) David Lynch films the other day, first Mulholland Drive, which was totally weird. It was interesting the way there seemed to be several stories running parallel to each other, but at the end it felt like they'd realized they were 2 hours in and squished what could have been another 2 hours into 20 minutes, which made the story more confusing rather than clarifying anything... Later that night we watched Twin Peaks which was even weirder and absolutely terrifying. The only thing I had ever seen that remotely approached the level of weird in that film was Blue Velvet, though Twin Peaks definitely won out on the "$%&#@$% ew! " factor. I checked IMDB later to see if the same person had written Mulholland Drive and Twin Peaks or if David Lynch just liked messed up stories, turns out he wrote both of them himself, and also directed Blue Velvet, which is probably why I was reminded of it by watching these other two films. What a weird guy...

More about my actual host sister though and less about movies. Last night she had been invited to a party her elementary school friend (as in, she last saw him in person when she was 12, found each other on facebook, etc)/fashion stylist who was throwing at a local club but it didn't start until midnight and she didn't feel like going on her own, but if I wanted to come... Why not? We drove over to the 8th to Madam and passed the line of people waiting to get in to greet her friend who said hi, we were introduced, and he ushered us into the club but stayed at the door to wait for the others. Some of the invitees had also gone to school with my host sister, so there was a chance she'd know some of them, but it had been a few years, she wasn't sure she'd recognize them. Since we were with her friend's party, we got to skip out on the 20 euro cover charge (score). We stood awkwardly just inside the door for a while until I realized, "oh god, we're both shy and feel uncomfortable in this situation...I have to do something." I suggested we sit.

We sat. Awkwardly. The guy next to her tried to make small talk, but it was pretty loud and she seemed less than interested to maintain a conversation. I suggested we try dancing since I'd heard her say she prefers clubs where you can dance over bars where you just drink, etc, but she still seemed reluctant. I tried to be extra goofy so she'd feel less self-conscious maybe (not knowing quite how she was feeling) but it didn't really work. She asked a guy near the door if he knew her friend and he responded, "That's what how you're gonna flirt with me?" and we about-faced to get soda at the bar. She offered to buy me a coke, and I laughed and said no, I could pay, but she insisted. The bartender poured two glasses of coke and Astrid handed her a 10. The woman said something we couldn't hear, and I handed her another 5. Finally I heard her: "20 euro." I begrudingly took back the 5 and handed her another 10. I've gotten bigger cocktails here that were less expensive...

Astrid scanned the club for her friends, but no soap. We saw the first guy again a few times, but each time he passed us with no indication that he even recognized us. Eventually we hit the dance floor again, and both felt a little better because there were more people dancing at that point. A guy came by and offered to get us drinks which we were down with until Astrid realized, Maybe this is a bad idea, there could be drugs... and my brain flipped back on and agreed so we went back to the dance floor. The guy seemed pretty perplexed by our retreat, but w/e. Two other guys ended up dancing next to us and one of them danced with Astrid and then with me and that became weird very quickly. He was facing me holding my hands and we were doing this really weird step-touch, mirroring thing with the occasional surprise spin, but then he kind of grabbed me around the waist and tried to grind on me, so I pushed him away and said, "NO" and he seemed to get it. For a bit, anyway. A minute later, he spun me then was dance-hugging me from behind so I forced another spin and disentangled myself. Dancing solo, all's good... aaaaaaaand he got my hands again. How? I dunno. This time he placed them directly on his ass and held them there. I managed to slide my hands out and push him arms length away from me, hard, this time no friendly, sorry-but-no smile. "What, do you not like men?" "That's not quite the issue, here..." Astrid and I excused ourselves to "check on our coats hsfjmm..." and found another spot to dance.

Two minutes later, Mr Dancypants is back, watching us and slowly dancing his way over. Five minutes later, I couldn't ignore him anymore because he was basically next to my face. I twisted a smile and waved like, oh hi, sorry I didn't notice you there, I was too busy trying to ignore you at all costs... He could not take a friggen hint, or shove, but this time Astrid came to the rescue, "I think we should go, I'm pretty tired." Why yes, I'm exhausted, too. And I was, it was 3 in the morning and I'd only gotten 6 hrs sleep the night before. We joked around on the way back, talked about how weird her friend was that he didn't make any effort to talk to her, how weird Mr Dancypants was, how ridiculously expensive the soda was... and how glad we were that we'd actually gone and actually had a great time regardless.

The night too weird for words, but I'll try...

So we wanted to go dancing, and my friends L, A, C, and G were pretty bent on having something to drink first, so we scoured the area around Club Mix for about a half hour. First, we found this general store-type place, but there were about 3 dirty-looking men hanging around outside. We decided we could find someplace safer than that, plus we weren't sure what the laws are about drinking on the street, but we figured it was a bad idea. G had explored the area a little before the rest of us had gotten there and knew of a bar where they have student Happy Hour every Thursday night, so we went there.

The bar was relatively small and pretty crowded, but there was a live band (well, two guys with earrings and overalls playing American songs on guitar) and the student specials were very reasonably priced. We hung there until about 11:30, figuring we'd have plenty of time to cross the street and make it to the club before midnight.

Haha, wrong. The line was about 300 people long and eventually dissolved into a mass of people pushing their way toward the door. We stuck it out for about half an hour, realized we had missed the midnight deadline, and peaced. As we were walking away, we were hailed by three guys standing apart from the crowd, "Eh! Eh!...Eh!" who we failed to notice, but they were persistent and came up alongside us. It was a pretty typical French-American conversation, "Oh, the US? Where? Conn-ect-ee-kuht? Chicago? Obama!" the only really interesting thing about the conversation was when we left to find our friend who'd gone in search of a bathroom and one of the guys said, "What, you leaving? Come on girl!" with emphasis on every wrong syllable. Nobody really wanted to go home yet, so we went back to the first bar.

The band was taking a break, but there was music playing over the speakers and we had another round of vodka and caramel (who knew so good?). This time we were able to actually secure a seat -- a whole couch, in fact -- and made a pile of our coats, then stood/sat around the couch but not on it. G was soon chatting up a young (?) Austrian guy, O, who then came to sit with us for a bit, leaving his coat atop our own mass of outerwear when he disappeared twenty minutes later. Everyone was kinda bummed he'd left, but we figured he had to come back eventually if he wanted his coat.

In the meantime, we tried to avoid eyecontact with the group seated on the couch across from us. There two girls and a few guys, one of which was slightly disfigured and kept asking to take pictures with us, pictures of his friends with us... but they didn't really talk to us except the little man who G had agreed to dance with earlier and then felt forced to talk to. At this point I was cornered against the wall by their conversation but I couldn't excuse myself and leave G there so I stuck it out until it was over.

At this point, O had reappeared and whisked Claire onto the dance floor. It was super cute until he started leading her around the bar where we had trouble seeing them to make sure everything was ok. We kept trying to gesture to Claire, "OK?" but she would just give this smile/laugh/awkward face so we weren't sure exactly... A few times we made excuses to check on her and she seemed content to stay, so we let her be.

Until we had to leave, anyway. It took several tries to convince her we were really going and that the bar was, in fact, closing. C was pulled aside to make sure everything was still ok, and the rest of us headed outside. O met us out there and came up to me to ask, "Are you all like her, no sex before marriage?" The warning bells had been ringing for about an hour now, but the siren started blaring at this point. "Um... not necessarily." "You are like her?" No. I don't think so, really, but for the sake of this conversation right here, "Yes, in many ways." He then tried to schedule another night where we would all meet up, "Maybe tomorrow, I'm having a party, maybe 20 people? What days during the week are you free?" "Well, ya see, we're hoping to have class next week... Ya know, I think we'll have to wait and see on that."

In the span of my conversation with O, A and L had managed to befriend 2 French guys and one of their girlfriends who invited us to go get food with them down the street at Hippopotamus. We were all set to go when we realized O had gone back inside the bar to get his coat and C had followed. About 10 minutes later they reemerged and made out most of the way to the restaurant, which was closing in 15 and therefore not taking any tables of 9 at 2:45 in the morning. They pointed us across the street to a place that was open to 5, but more expensive. We crossed the street in 3 minutes but it took 10 to encourage C and O to do likewise.

At the restaurant, L and I first headed to the bathroom where we were seperately greeted by a very drunken man who asked, "This is the one for men?" Yes. "And that's the one for ladies?" Yes. L came out of the women's stall and I went in, rinse repeat. G appeared on our way out and we went back to the table together. C had moved next to O and he was all up on her face. She was embarassed because everyone was right there and kept telling him to stop, my friends are uncomfortable, and we verified that yes, it was weird to be sitting directly across from two people kissing. C talked to L and me while O talked to the French guy next to him in our group while tried to eavesdrop. It was hard in French, but I heard something about "All the girls there..." and "This one's difficult..." so I figured it couldn't be good. I think he also asked the French guy's opinion on how to invite C back to his place, which he did a bit later. O ordered two glasses of white wine for him and C who had 0 interest in drinking it and asked if it was champagne.

The French guy next to me was as drunk as the one next to O but tried to speak to me very carefully in English, offering to take me around Paris,or we could just go to a museum if I didn't "want to get involved," had I been to Versailles. Yes, I've been there before. Should he take his American girlfriend there? Omg hilarious he has an American girlfriend? Yes, of course, you should, but the gardens are closed until June, I think. He asked for my number but luckily I didn't have my phone on me, it was trapped in my coat behind C and O. I told sorry, I didn't know my number by heart and he said, Oh, you speak French? Yes (I've been responding to you in French, you didn't notice?) You speak very well... Then I got to try and understand him slurring away in French... He got up to use the restroom when suddenly creepy bathroom guy reappeared and tried to sit in his place, but i held the chair with my foot just long enough for the French girl with us to insist, "No, someone is sitting there." Behind him, I shouted to G, "Meet creepy bathroom guy." "Oh, we met, in the bathroom." L and I almost peed ourselves.

Finally, at 4 in the morning it was time to head out. We said good-bye to our French company and told C one more time, "We're going, come with us." She refused, but said she'd call once she bought more credit for her phone. I said, "Ok," and then, "Wait, you don't have a phone?" I handed her my phone in case of emergency and we asked again if she wanted to come. She said no, we left.

I took the nightbus home and was asleep by 5:05, 25 minutes before the first metro starts running. I woke up this morning at 10.

It's more like a stab to your gut...

Wow so the whole homesick is kicking in today. I think it has something to do with the weird dream I had last night that woke myself up from crying and I was still tired when I got up. We went to the Carnival parade which was cool, but was also cold and crowded which took away from me be happy to be there. Afterwards, though we went to a little cafe place and had some warm drinks which was nice and relaxing. I called my parents (or tried) when I got back, got to talk to my brother for a bit while they were on their way home. He forewarned me that my mom was considering traveling with me to Italy when I go over spring break, but my dad talked her out of it (she mentioned something about it to me, too, but I said, "Yeah, but that would be more expensive...and I don't speak any Italian...") I think she got it. But it was nice to talk to them.

I think it's been harder than I anticipated just because nothing's really going on right now. I have no work, classes, etc to distract me from the fact that I'm here and not there, and I really felt fine until today and it was just like BAM have some sad time. Hopefully I'll get creative this week and start actually planning things ahead of time instead of waiting to see what's up. I'm hoping to visit Versailles sometime this week with some of the other girls and figure out some more day trips since we're supposed to be on vacation. Anything to distract me from my own thoughts for an hour or two.

On a lighter note, I visited a museum the other day with my host sister and mother and enjoyed it more than I've enjoyed any other museum in my life, which surprised me. We went museuming because my host sister had offered to go with me earlier and then was feeling really bummed about a guy so I figured it would help cheer her up if we got out of the house. We went to the Musee Gustave Moreau which is just two floors, three large rooms, of Moreau's work. It was really amazing to see an entire room (well, 3+ rooms) of one artist's work together. Every wall was covered in large tableaus, smaller series, and in the middle of each room were cases with pull-out frames of more of his work. In two rooms, there were displays of all of his sketches, as well, which I really like, to be able to see the whole process right there... The works themselves were really inspiring, too. He was really into detail, so many of his paintings have ink outlines of things he was going to add later, especially bedazzled jewelry and embroidery. Mostly his work was realistic, well, the people looked realistic, the subjects or scenes themselves were mostly mythical or biblical, which I tend to prefer over abstract art, tho he had some of that, too. Mostly, I liked the intricacy of his details and his scenes (one painting was probably 10' x 6' and had over 50 different women and 3 different cities intermingled) and the colors were very bright. Looking at Moreau's work - the sketches in particular - kind of made me go, "What am I doing with my life that I'm not doing this?" I'll more than likely break out the sketchbook this week.

EE-KAY-AH (Ikea)

With no classes to speak of, I spent the last two days helping my host sister assemble a small rolling drawer set, a glass-door bookshelf, and a glass-door armoire. As a person who enjoys manual labor (a "what-should-you-be-when-you-grow-up" quiz once advised me to go into contruction...), I enjoyed myself, and I got to practice, "I think we need this/that thing over there," a lot. When we finished, we were rewarded with cake that my host mom had made earlier.

So yeah, still no class to speak of. I went showed up this morning just in case, but there were all of 6 other people in the ampitheater and, after waiting for an hour just in case, I headed out at about 9:55. At least this campus isn't closed. Yet. Instead, I went for a walk through the Jardin du Luxembourg, which was gorgeous and sunny:

I just got an e-mail from my program director saying she wants to organize a translation class and a comparative literature class for us after we get back from next week's vacation. I'm already registered for a translation class, but it hasn't started yet... therefore, I feel like the program director may be losing hope that classes will ever start... which is making me pessimistic as well...

In any case, going home is not really an option at this point. One girl from the group already talked to her/my advisor who said it's too far into their semester to try and catch up. I never even really considered leaving, but it bums me out that other people here are so miserable. I mean, the greve sucks big time and I'm worried about credits and requirements and so on, too, but not enough to make me want to leave.

That said, I want to leave Paris next week. I have a week vacation and I need to do something with it. A few of the girls are going to London and they sort of invited people to go with them and sort of did not, so I dunno. Another girl wants to travel around France, a new town every day, not sure if she's looking for company, but I need to figure out by... tomorrow what I want to do and how I'm gonna go about it. Since my parents want to be here for more of my Spring Break, this may be my only chance to have my own adventure and I don't want to miss it because I was too timid to follow through.

A Touch of the Inappropriate (Kind)

Up until two days ago, i was creepy person-free. Had been since...well, a really long time. I kept hearing stories from other people here about people being too friendly, to forward, or just plain too close; one girl's butt was grabbed by a pre-pubescent metro-goer, and another was invited to personally tutor a spanish-speaking man, and the stories abound. I wasn't able to relate until yesterday, when an elderly gentleman seated himself across from me on the metro, put his coat in his lap, and proceeded to slowly slouch further and further down, adjusting his coat for better visability, so that he could slowly rub his knees against mine. At first I thought I was overreacting, but my repeated failed attempts to sufficiently rearrange my knees and his weird glances up at me, then to his coat/knees, then back up to me signaled that something was wrong here... I tried to just wait it out, but I still had five stops to go when I pushed my way through about 15 people to get off and wait for the next train.

That was over, done, watch out for weirdos on the metro, lesson learned, right?

Wrong. Not everybody tries to touch you, but that doesn't make them ANY less creepy. I took the metro home, a short ride, four stops, off. Most of the seats were taken when I got on so I stood toward the back, knowing it would only get more crowded. I got off at my stop and was headed toward the exit when somebody next to me asked, "Parlez vous francais?" I kept walking until this guy was right next to me, looking down at me, asking, "Ca va? Parlez vous francais?" I half smiled and ignored him. He tried to keep talking to me, but the crowd prevented him, and he gave up and went up the escalator a ways ahead of me. I was relieved.

Until I got to the top of the escalator and saw him looking for someone. He started walking right, so I went left, but he saw me and ran to catch up. He kept talking and I tried to ignore him and keep walking but he wouldn't leave me alone, so I kept walking. If he asked a question, I tried to ignore him or say, "Sorry, I don't understand," but then he'd just respond, "Yes, you do," and keep following. "My name is Abdul, I just want to be your friend, I have other American friends, You are too beautiful..." I kept going all the way to my house, at this point he knew my name (stupid!), that I was American (stupid!) and that I had no ohone number (he held out his phone and I kept saying no, no, no, no but he kept holding it out to me anyway, asking for at least my US number which I also declined to give) and no e-mail address (2 brain cells worked that time), but I couldn't stop at the house because I didn't want him to know where I lived and come back... Especially since I'd already told him I would be here a week (at least I didn't say more). I wanted to call the house and tell them I was going to be home so they could come outside and make him leave me alone/scare him off, but I'd already said I didn't have a phone and I didn't want to get caught in THAT lie... He followed me around 4 blocks until I circled one, and he finally said, "Vous voulez que je vous laisse? (Do you want me to leave you alone?") and I said, "Oui, s'il vous plait," and he crossed the street and ran down to the next block and out of sight. I checked to the side and behind me every 3 paces on my way back home...

Damp Squib

Sunday was great. I slept in after a girls' night out (Happy Birthday Lucy!), went for a walk with my host mother in the "woods" where we took this dirt path to a small man-made lake/waterfall (and thus felt like disney, somehow) and came back for some lunch. Then, my host mother said she usually bakes a cake on Sunday, would I like to help? I had a lot of fun learning how to measure by mass, about different kinds of flower, general cuisine vocabulary, with more than a dash of culinary insight... We made a lemon pie from scratch and it was delicious. Later, when my host mother's English friend dropped in for a visit, she, my host mother and sister, and I had (some more of the) pie and talked about movies, family, England, America, France, the like, and she introduced me to the phrase "damp squib," essentially the wick of a firework that fails to ignite.

That's about how the French university system feels to me now, mid-greve. I'm supposed to have 2 lecture classes, four small group classes, and 1 film class. Last week I had class only long enough each time for the professor to say we would not be having class, with the exception of my History of France: 20th Cent. class which proceeded as scheduled, and this week was worse:

Monday one class was canceled by a teacher who was appalled that no one responded to her e-mail suggesting we do something else with the time (had no idea she was waiting to hear back on that...), followed by a group class that said nothing about the lecture it's supposed to apply to, but did talk about two other courses... i guess the architecture of India/China class is canceled completely(?), today one of my group classes met, but only for half the time because they were shutting down the campus for a general assembly. My afternoon class for today had been canceled since the weekend, so no surprise there. My history class is supposed to meet at 12 tomorrow, it's my only class tomorrow, and I just got an e-mail from one of my profs saying that campus will be closed until they have another meeting on MARCH 2.

This is bad news in so many ways... for one, I can't even go to the class that would actually be happening, which would have brought me up to *7* credits for this semester... now I'm back down to *3* Second, my profs have been reassuring us that classes will recommence after vacation (next week, i.e. there would be class the first week of March). However, if they're having another meeting March 2, there still won't be classes. And Paris is an expensive place to hang out when you're not getting any credit for it.

The GREVE

The signs and graffiti that greeted us our first day of... no class
















Amanda and Sarah practice their protest faces




Claire and the sign, "They rarely have reason alone against everything," significance of this statement unknown











The Sorbonne or other important-looking building a block away from the mass of "grevists..."
*haha, that's the Pantheon...I TOTALLY knew that...*

The gendarmarie on one street... they were also monitoring about 8 others...

Week 2 of Paris, week 0 of class...

Still waiting for classes to start. Because of the strike, every class but one that I've gone to has had a professor who comes in and announces that there will be no class this week, maybe not next week... maybe we'll have class after February vacation. Just what I need, more unstructured down-time. At this point, I hope I can scrounge up enough classes to meet the 12 credit, full-time student requirement for my college and my loans... A bunch of people from my group and I went to the student march the other day -- 5,000 ppl, it seemed like, professors and students from public universities all over France on Boulevard St. Michel and Boulevard Montparnasse. The turnout was really incredible, but unfortunately for us study abroad kids it means that classes won't be starting any time soon.

Luckily, I like my host family and don't mind spending the extra time here with them. They're a family of 4 with a daughter a few years older than me and a son my brother's age (who mysteriously appears and disappears for days at a time...?) and they're super nice and laid back. The daughter is working toward her doctorate in film/theater and the family loves to watch old movies, so it's become a sort of tradition (or it was and has been continuing since my arrival) to have dinner and then watch an old movie before going to bed. So far we've seen A bout de Souffle, La beaute du diable, Safety Last, Psycho, Psycho the remake, Deathrace (lolled and threw up in my mouth a little), In the Dead of Night... and there'll be more to come. I also played Monopoly France with her once and she totally kicked my ass because I bought up half the board and she waited and pub hotels on the "Boardwalk." I lost as soon as I landed on it 'cuz I didn't have the 15 million euro to pay the rent. I finally got to use my phrase from French In Action, "15M euro? Qu'est-ce-que c'est que cette histoire?!" She laughed, apparently nobody really says that.

The mother is really friendly and softspoken, the father is friendly, but much more aggressive in conversation. My first dinner with the family, I sat across from him and I don't know how he had time to eat, he was so eager to tell me all about the history of France which led to the history of his wife's family, the history of his wife's education (mind you, she's sitting right there...) the French educational system... I made the mistake of saying I was going to take a history course (because it's required by my major) and he went into the attic/library to find me a number of textbooks that had been his daughter's... Later I got to hear about his experiences as a gynecologist (hello!), etc... He seems really smart and eager to share his knowledge, but I wish it came a little slower, a little softer, and a little less often.

I have been trying to get out of the house and see the city, too. Today we went to the Museum of Modern Art and walked under the Eiffel Tower, the other day I had a reconnaissance mission around the Paris Opera house, I'm hoping to go to the Museum of Fashion and Costumes sometime this week, and the week after that, and maybe the week after that...

Speaking of fashion, I found out recently that my host mother used to be a fashion photographer. She had some German friends over for dinner and they asked to see her photographs so we all went upstairs and she started pulling out frame after frame, saying, "Ah yes, this was Dior, this was Chanel..." I almost peed myself. She stopped working at the beginning of the 90s because the designers thought her work was too personal and drew too much attention away from the clothes, apparently. But they were gorgeous, and had to be a hundred of them, one beautiful image after another, it was amazing...

Study abroad may be a misnomer...

So there's a constant struggle in the public education...sector(?) in France. Currently, there's a huge strike going on with professors, students, etc., such that the school I'm supposed to be attending this semester may not have classes. Our program director, however, encouraged us to attend regardless. Our grammar teacher agreed but said we may not be able to push through the picketing students next week. Worst comes to worst, I won't be able to take a full courseload this semester and probably lose my loans...and then need to make up for lost time when I get back to Bard.

That aside, I've been enjoying myself for the most part. Last night our group went to see "Feu la mere de Madame" about this dysfunctional couple who find out at four in the morning that the wife's mother has passed away. It sounds like it'd be sad, but it was fucking hilarious. It was in this black box theater type place and it was incredibly funny. I understood a lot of what was going on, but luckily a lot of the humor was action- rather than dialogue-based, anyway.

Afterwards we went out for drinks which turned into a 45 minute walk through Paris because we got off at the wrong metro stop and finally we arrived at "La Perle." Once we found a table, we went up to order at the bar and the guy in our group was served just about right away, but it took the bartender about 5 minutes to remark the other two girls standing beside him waiting their turn. I ended up paying 10euro for a white russian, not knowing what to order, and the guy said something to me in English about going up for more. The people at my table and I had no idea what this meant, we figured he must have put so much ice in my glass that he was offering me a free refill, to which I felt I was entitled. In any case, I finished the drink and went up again to ask him...for more, I guess, and he listened to the first couple words I said, noted my empty glass, nodded, and poured about two shots of straight-up-Kaluah (Kaluhah?) over the remaining ice. It's really much easier when they just speak French.

Now I have to go find someplace to recharge my cellphone because I used up all my time trying to call Bank of America internationally. I tried all day yesterday to call so they wouldn't cancel my debit card if I tried to use it here, but didn't have time (in the day or on my phone) to wait on hold for 6 minutes. I finally got through today, but all the calls I made yesterday to numbers that were "no longer in service" meant that my phone ended the call when I was in the middle of talking to the representative and so... I have to go spend more money so that I can call BACK and try AGAIN. Technology is not my friend this week.

Why did I bring the yellow duck boots?

I got to Paris with approx 3x the luggage of my fellow travelers, and about 4x the quantity of pink clothing. I tried to pack light, but apparently I suck at it. One week and 8 flights of stairs later, I'm finally unpacked and settled chez my host family. I've only had to use my umbrella once when it was sprinkling, and my yellow rubber duck boots are watching me from the corner. Even on the plane, I didn't want to wear them because I thought they'd stand out to much. On a plane, where nobody sees your feet, even you. Instead, I threw them in one of my 3 rolling bags, and retreated to the security of my converses. Maybe one day I'll feel kick-ass enough to whip 'em out and blind the Parisian population with their lemon-daffodil-sunshiney goodness. Just not this week. And probably not the next.