Un enfant gâté?

I guess I should have knocked on wood after that last post.

Paris is in plein [full] grève aujourd’hui [today]. Taking action against the current economic climate and various Sarkozy administration movements toward privatization (particularly of the post), tens of thousands of workers in diverse sectors are taking part in a national day of grève [strike]. The RATP had warned against extensive perturbation [disruption] of a number of metro lines – in actuality, the Metro seemed to be running quite smoothly today – and Post Offices and other such establishments were closed across the country. An estimated 40,000 to 50,000 individuals were expected to participate in a demonstration from the Bastille to the Opèra.

Is it the spirit of social movement in action or the obnoxious cries of “un enfant gâté” [a spoiled child]?

The latter is how my host mom characterizes the Parisian penchant for striking – and it is particularly Parisian, she notes. France’s workers have been spoiled and they have a tendency to throw tantrums in the form of grèves [strikes] until they get their way, she argues. What’s more, she contends it’s only those who have secure enough jobs who can even strike in the first place, while empathizing with the small business owners who are equally struggling. Clearly not all Parisians share this view on the grève, but it’s an interesting perspective.

In a completely unrelated grève, the Université of Paris VII is protesting poor wages and working conditions. The movement is somewhat hit-or-miss and each U.F.R. [department] has the right to choose whether or not they will strike. At present, my department (Lettres et cinéma) is on strike through Tuesday at which point they will vote again on whether or not to prolong the movement. If this strike lasts, I will have to find replacements for my two classes at the university which would certainly be dommage [a pity] because I have thoroughly enjoyed my experience with Paris VII and have picked some intriguing courses for the semester.

Alors, on verra…

Des bonnes nouvelles

Ça n’a rien à faire avec Paris ou la France ainsi je vais écrire en français pour que je puisse lier ce « post » à mon expérience parisienne. C’est à la fois un exercice de la langue et une opportunité pour montrer mes capacités françaises et pour vous convaincre que je peux vraiment le parler.

Donc, je vous raconte : je viens de recevoir des très, très bonnes nouvelles.

Jeudi soir était la folie. Après d’avoir eu un jour long et fatiguant de cours, je suis rentrée pour découvrir un mail et un message du Dow Jones Newspaper Fund. J’ai immédiatement dû courir au tabac pour charger mon téléphone portable, qui était épuisé depuis mardi, pour téléphoner aux Etats-Unis.

Le type au téléphone m’a rapidement appris qu’il voulait m’offrir un stage. J’étais très contente. Ensuite, les nouvelles s’amélioraient. Le Dow Jones Newspaper Fund donne des stages à travers les Etats-Unis aux bureaux de « copy editing » chez des dizaines de journaux.

À quel journal travaillerai-je ? Le NEW YORK TIMES, m’a-t-il dit. J’étais en choque. Je ne pouvais rien dire. C’est incroyable. C’est formidable. C’est CHOUETTE ! Le New York Times est le top. Je ne sais pas comment j’avais autant de chance, mais je suis ravie !

En outre, je n’étais jamais à New York. Un été à la ville sera incroyable.

En plus d’une petite danse autour de ma chambre pour célébrer, j’ai contacté ma famille et plusieurs amis par Skype pour partager les bonnes nouvelles. J’étais également contente de raconter l’histoire à ma mère d’accueil qui partageait mon excitation. Hier soir, j’ai fêté les nouvelles avec deux amies de Smith. Nous sommes sorties pour dîner et partager du vin à un resto préféré.

Maintenant, tandis que le choque et l’excitation se calment, il faut que je débrouille tous les détails, y compris comment je vais complètement convaincre M. Bloom que je peux quitter le programme et la France deux semaines en avance…

Des autres bonnes nouvelles : mon frère va arriver demain !

For those of you who are non-Francophone, here is a mild English approximation of the above text rendered by Babel Fish (hilarity may ensue):

That does not have anything to make with Paris or France thus I will write in French so that I can bind this “post” to my Parisian experiment. It is at the same time a exercise of the language and an opportunity to show to convince my French capacities and you that I can really the speech.

Therefore, I tell you: I have just received very, very good news.

Thursday evening was the madness. After to have had one day long and tiring course, I returned to discover an email and a message of Dow Jones Newspaper Fund. I immediately had to run to the tobacco to give the responsibility my cell phone, which was exhausted since Tuesday, to telephone in the United States.

The type on the telephone quickly taught me that he wanted to offer an internship to me. I was very content. Then, the news improved. Dow Jones Newspaper Fund gives internships through the United States to the offices of “Copy editing” at tens of newspapers.

With which newspaper will work I? NEW YORK TIMES, has it says me. I was in shock. I could nothing say. It is incredible. It is formidable. It is OWL! New York Times is the signal. I do not know how I had as much chance, but I am delighted!

Moreover, I was never in New York. A summer at the city will be incredible.

In addition to one small dance around my room to celebrate, I contacted my family and several friends by Skype to divide the good news. I was also glad to tell the history with my welcome mother which shared my excitation. Yesterday evening, I celebrated the news with two friends of Smith. We left to dine and divide wine with a preferred restaurant.

Now, while shocks it and the excitation are calmed, it is necessary that I clear up all the details, including how I completely will convince Mr. Bloom whom I can leave the program and France two weeks in advance…

Other good news: my brother will arrive tomorrow!

Là où les rêves deviennent la réalité

OK, go ahead and judge me. Just get it out of your system now.

Being closer in my life than I ever have been or than I really ever anticipate being to a Disneyland, I decided, after some convincing from my friend Jamie, to go to Disneyland Paris – as I was informed by Ben, citing Wikipedia, it is no longer called Euro Disney, but officially known as Disneyland Resort Paris – this weekend.

Yes, it’s a very American thing to do, but (1) it’s culturally interesting to consider how the French conceptualize Disney and (2) it’s fun!

Even though it was absolutely freezing yesterday (probably the coldest day since I’ve been here), I still had an amazing time. Thanks to Jamie and Christine, our Disney specialists, we maneuvered expertly through ride after ride, experiencing it all. I am thoroughly impressed by the effort and craftsmanship that appears to have went into the creation of each detail on each ride. And it was impossible not to have a great time. My favorite ride was the old-standby Space Mountain, but I also loved a brand new attraction called Crush’s Coaster with a Finding Nemo theme and enjoyed such classics as the spinning teacups, Peter Pan and the haunted mansion – unfortunately, It’s A Small World was closed for renovations.

I was equally entertained by noting the little details that gave the parks – we visited both the Disneyland Parc and Walt Disney Studios – a unique esprit français [French spirit]. We saw a crêpe stand amongst the Hollywood magic, and they sold French bread alongside Mickey-shaped pizzas and cheeseburgers. Best of all, a mock-up of the boutique from my favorite movie Les Parapluies de Cherbourg had been constructed for picture-taking purposes. This movie is a tragic, nearly operatic French musical from the 1960s, not your typical Disney film.

It’s hard to compare a fictional Sleeping Beauty castle to the live historic artifacts dotting the French countryside, but it’s true that Chenonceau certainly did not have a dragon.

The magique of the weekend continued as a handful of glistening white snowflakes fell from the sky outside me window just before noon this morning. My host mom’s gleeful declarations of “Il neige!” reminded me of how rare the event is here.

As the few flakes transitioned quickly into frigid rain, a mixture of homesickness and pure contentedness washed bittersweetly over me.

Le temps file

Another week of schoolwork and classes quickly passes by and with it another weekend to enjoy. After ending my week on a sour note of a stressful Thursday on which I incorrectly set my alarm and nearly missed my 9 a.m. class at Paris VII – my host mom woke me at 8:30, wondering if I had class, at which point I rushed out the door to catch the metro and ended up only 15 minutes late – and became discouraged by my translation course, the weekend was a welcome escape.

And escape I did, mostly from the French language. I hardly spoke it this weekend, and barely even heard it around me, which would seem difficult considering I am living in the preeminent French-speaking country in the world.

I spent Saturday strolling the designer-store-lined streets around the Champs-Elysées and near the U.S. embassy, where tourists abound, especially on a Saturday. Later, I braved the crowded Champs-Elysées shops with friends. There, we encountered all nationalities, including an adorable German child who applauded Alix’s lip-synched rendition of the Chris Brown song blaring over the United Colors of Beneton sound system and an American tourist, who happened to be a professor at Grand Valley State (small world), with his family. Very minimal amounts of French were spoken and even less was heard.

Sunday was no different as Rachel, Rebecca and I visited Montmartre for a street festival. All nationalities were again represented, including the older British man, who during a particularly log-jammed moment in the crowd remarked rather loudly, “The bloke behind me has a large belly!” The knowing look of the man behind him, who clearly also spoke English, was priceless.

My host mom was even in la campagne for the weekend so I lacked Francophone interactions with her. When you add on my time Skyping to those back home (brother, boyfriend, mom, dad) and my guilty-pleasure screenings of Project Runway and Freaks and Greeks, my “plus-français-que-les-Français [more-French-than-the-French]” program director would be appalled.

Not to say that my weekend was a bust. I had a fabulous time swimming amongst the crowds, profiting from the fantastic and unseasonably warm weather and catching up on American pop culture.

Plus, I tried a new pastry. What could be more French than that?

Mon anniversaire

I always thought my birthday fell at just the wrong time of the year. The beginning of September is always a time of transition – whether it was starting school, moving into my dorm or, in my present situation, getting acclimated to a new and foreign city. But over the years I’ve managed to have some pretty good birthdays; although, I think this year’s tops the list.

My official start of my birthday here at 12:00 a.m. Paris time was marked by my loyal (and wonderful) boyfriend who made sure to send me a message via Facebook chat. But by morning, I was feeling a bit nostalgique [homesick] especially after seeing a few birthday e-mails and e-cards from home. Sauf pour my host mother joyously telling me “ ’Appy Birthday” (the French always drop their H’s) the morning passed as normal.

It wasn’t until déjeuner [lunch] that my first day to no longer be a teenager truly revealed itself as special. My friend Hannah suggested that we head to this bagel place she had seen earlier for lunch (I would soon learn that, although she undoubtedly loves my company, this was intended as a distraction). We ate our bagels (quite good for bagels being practically unheard of in France) happily, and then Hannah suggested we return to Reid Hall. We returned only to find a horde of smiling Smithies in the salle à manger [dinning room] ready to sing “Joyeux anniversaire!” and present me with chocolate cake and Tiramisu. It was fabulous to be able to celebrate with everyone.

Later that afternoon, while shopping at a nearby H&M (three stories, mind you), I bought myself a très jolie [very pretty] scarf as a birthday present à moi [to me].

For dinner, Madame had asked me to invite two friends pour fêter [to celebrate] my birthday so Hannah and Jamie gladly joined us for a veritable feast beginning with an aperitif (champagne, of course pour fêter) and ending with a fruit-topped cheesecake. The whole meal was excellent! Parfait [perfect]!

Afterwards, Hannah, Jamie and I went to a cinéma just next to Hannah’s apartment and only a couple blocks from mine. It’s an art-house-type cinéma (meaning no French-dubbed Kung Fu Panda or Zohan) and after surveying the numerous tempting choices we settled on Metropolis, a German Expressionist movie from the 1920s – again, excellent!


In all, I’m happy to be 20, and although I couldn’t share the day with the people with whom I am truly the closest, I had the best birthday imaginable.

Mes premiers jours

As of tomorrow, I will have been in Paris for exactly a week. Thus, an entry here is more than overdue, but as you can guess, my first few days have been a little hectic and I wanted to get settled before I wrote.

My flight here was fairly uneventful, sauf [except for] an hour delay caused by backups on the runway at the Philadelphia International Airport. There were a number of other Smith students on the same plane, and we met a couple of others at Charles De Gaulle so there was a small army of us traveling together on the bus into Paris. It was reassuring to be surrounded by people I knew, and it made arriving in a new country with a new language (well, not new, but different…and although I’ve studied it for many years, I hadn’t spoken or listened to much French for the entirety of the summer) much less terrifying.

We were put up in a very nice, big, Americanized hotel in Montparnasse for the first night. I was understandably exhausted from the travel, but we were able to find a little boulangerie at which to eat lunch – my first real French experience. I also got a chance to walk around the neighborhood a little bit and at each turn I was reminded that I was in Paris: the streets are narrow, the apartments beautiful, and les motos [motorcycles, mopeds, etc.] numerous.

After our first meeting as a group with our program director and assistant director, our host families were to meet us back at the hotel. Unfortunately, my hostess was out of town attending a niece’s wedding so I would not yet get to meet her. I was instead whisked away by my friend Jamie’s host family who were some of the nicest, warmest people I have ever met. Dominique and Catherine and there 10-year-old daughter Elyse welcomed us openly into their home, and it made for a fabulous first impression of Parisian life and Parisians themselves. Plus, their apartment was beautiful and but a few minutes walk from the Arc de Triomphe, where Jamie and I were able to stroll Sunday morning and again Sunday afternoon when we met a friend at a café near the Champs-Elysées.

Sunday was to be my last day with Dominique, Catherine and Elyse, and my time spent with them ended on a high note. For dinner Sunday night (the other meals had been equally fabulous in their own respects due to Catherine’s superb cooking), Catherine, Elyse, Jamie and I took a bus to the Champs de Mars, the park area in front of the Eiffel Tower, were we had a pique-nique [picnic] of excellent sandwiches prepared by Catherine. Afterwards, we played Frisbee in the park, then bought ice cream by the Seine and strolled for the best view of the Eiffel Tower as it lit up at 9 p.m – in all, an absolutely magnificent night.

Monday morning I woke up full of anticipation and a bit of anxiety, ready to meet my hostess who came to the apartment to pick me up at 8 a.m. before my orientation courses. From my first impression, I could tell that she was sweet and kind and that is, of course, true. She’s very maternal and grandmotherly with me (she has 11 grandchildren of her own) and so far I’ve appreciated the guidance and care that she’s given me. Her apartment is on the small side and is historic (she would just say old), dating from the 1880s, but it is very cozy and located in an extremely central location at the coeur de [heart of] Paris. In fact, it’s only a 2 minute walk from the center Smith has at Reid Hall (where all my orientation classes take place) and just as close in the other direction to the famed Jardin du Luxembourg.

This week has been a blur of classes (ranging from phonetics to French history to how to navigate Paris), pleasant lunches eaten with friends and strolls throughout the city. Unfortunately, the weather has turned a bit sour these past few days and Paris is gris [grey] comme d’habitude [as usual]. Thankfully, the cold and the rain have not dampened my spirits or multiplied my stress, and all is well in the City of Light.

J’y arrive.