the metro/reflections

The most entertaining metro excursion s’est passé yesterday night. Anna and I returned from dinner on the 4, unaware that we were to be treated to a Mexican puppet show. [what country are we in?] At about the third or fourth stop, a man came on the car, swiftly put a colorful drape up between two of the poles, turned on some fiesta music, and began to make his three puppets…dance around. Im not sure if I am too ignorant to see his talent, or if he just didn’t have any, but despite that confusion, it was nevertheless anything but boring. We just stared, wondering if this was really going on in front of us [Anna pinched me at one point, so I know it actually did happen]. I had not a single cent in my pockets, or else I would have rewarded the young gentlemen for his…performance?

But the oddness ended not. For Anna and I soon began to wonder if we had somehow unknowingly boarded platform 9 ¾ [one chapter left til I start book 2]. The people on this car, and I don’t mean to be rude but, they were just all freaky looking. Capes and wands would not have been out of place! One girl had jet-black hair that spiraled to a bun right on top of her head, kind of poofing out around her cheeks, and was wearing a big black jacket with tall, laced boots. Another woman had the most piercing eyes Ive ever seen. And she used them to pierce me, that’s for sure. The man behind us had fangs. And his friend was so gaunt you almost didn’t see him from the front. another woman just…well she just looked like she knew how to cast spells! Im sorry but that’s what I saw. And anna agreed. So again, that might have sounded a little harsh, but really. He had fangs.

Finally, there was a really strange bug crawling on the pole in front of us. Okay so that’s not that cool when you just hear about it, but it was a REALLY COOL BUG. Like lime-green and a mix between a grasshopper and preying mantis. And the best part was when we both stood up to stare at it: from the point of view of anyone else, it looked like we were just staring intently at…the pole. If only they could have seen it.

Had a nutella crepe today, nothing new. Also bought tickets to Marseille for fall break. Expensive, but will be worth it. Southern france, anyone?

so i cant stop hearing that line from that advice column, 'advice, like youth, probably wasted on the young,' [better known as 'the sunscreen song' as it became] that is: 'live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.'

and when i substitute 'paris' for 'nyc,' it really makes sense. because i feel myself hardening toward the city's tougher parts. every day i pass the same homeless people on the street, and its just sad, but i have to tell myself to be emotionless, because i cannot help everyone. during class i hear cars honking repeatedly at each other and cant help but wonder, what is the big deal? how much of a rush can one be in? then there is just the general dodging through crowds on the street, in the metro, on the tiny sidewalks, where everyone- with an ipod or not- is just in their own world. its fascinating, its exciting, but its also tiring. im so disconnected from the hundreds of people i see every day. not that ive never been in this position before, but its magnified by a thousand in a city as large as paris. just something ive been thinking about, nothing too deep or earth-changing. i suppose im looking forward to the southern france break- hopefully a slower pace will greet me there.

for the rest of the quote, northern california, i can do without. but travel is an obvious must, as im demonstrating at this very moment.

eléanore

NEVER AGAIN will i be fooled by the angelic smile of a tiny-tot shuffling off to bed. because the next visit will probably reveal a screaming, wailing, bossy, unshowered mess of a french six-year-old. apparently showers are just the worst ordeal ever. nobody told me. and why isnt a bubble bath tempting anymore?? i sure enjoyed them when i was six. it seems that being a brat is much more fun.

after a disaster of a night with eléanore, today was somewhat better. she made a face at me when i greeted her at her school, tried to walk home without holding my hand until i made her wait too long that she gave in, and snuck a glass of orange juice behind my back after i told her that she couldnt eat anything else before her shower. BUT. it was better than the tantrum of a night yesterday. this whole au pair thing is anything but glorious. and the whole language-barrier thing is not exactly helpful.

ive found my book- harry potter et l'école des sorciers- to be a great aid. whenever she doesnt listen to me, either by walking away, not changing her clothes, or generally being annoying- i would proceed to read my book, and eventually she would realize that i could care less how long i need to wait for her and she would come over to see what the heck is so interesting. im pretty proud of that tactic. for fun, we did things like, see-how-small-eléanore-can-write 'maman,' see-how-well-stephanie-can-pronounce 'maman,' 2-square in the living room with a sliding haphazard rug, pretend-eléanore-has-fallen-asleep-and-mock-freak-out, and tie-this-string-into-a-really-big-knot. i know. it was absolutely thrilling. but there were no tears, so i left quite elated. and as a reward, i treated myself to not just a baguette for dinner, but a baguette with an apple and diet caffeine-free coke. what a night.

some other interesting happenings of the week:

-i discovered an interesting french radio program that consists of people calling in and giving personal ads, leaving their phone number and desired type of person to respond. its like match.com. only french. only better.

-at the france/austria game [which was awesome], i ate french 'fast food' --those donuts with nutella and carmel by far outdid any super pretzel ive ever downed. and part two of that night, i learned that the worst job in the world by far would have to be the people who sit right next to the field the entire time, but stare at the crowd, never the field, as if theyre searching for the Golden Snitch [ive been reading too much HP]. they will do this until someone- or two people- actually gets rowdy and then they have to get up and chase them down. WORST JOB EVER.

-when i said 'oui' to someone on the metro, im pretty sure they didnt immediately know that i am not french. it was a pretty proud moment, considering most people know im not french before i even open my mouth.

-somehow, ive yet to figure out how, one must always hide the fact that one is going to or from exercising of any sort. i did see one woman wearing a wool coat and scarf over her leggings and tennis shoes [i felt like i caught her in the act of exercising itself!] but i cant pull that off because i would have nowhere to put my wool coat and scarf since i run outside in public spaces. i even saw someone going into the doors of a legitimate gym and... i would have never guessed they were about to do anything more active than walking. ill just have to suck it up, being the sweaty american on the metro, returning from an awkward run around the city streets.

-a text love-message from an unknown sender caused me to be more overwhelmed than one might expect, as it was written in french AND bad spanish, making my language neurons basically throw up their hands in exasperation. as if one foreign language isnt enough, thanks.

-if you dont smoke, you must be holding your breath 24/7. and therefore are dead. so you do smoke. you cannot not smoke here. because everyone does, and whether you like it or not, you will inhale, first-hand or second-hand, some sweet sweet nicotine. [breathing through your sleeve surprisingly does absolutely nothing to filter the air.]


and some pictures from the past couple weeks...
vineyards at nitray:
st malo/mt st michel
annnnnnd FOOD

the 4 step program and other follies

French phonetics class sounds unnervingly similar to a barn. Which made the first hour of three very entertaining. Then it was just annoying.

More lessons learned- it is not okay to text and walk while on the streets of Paris. There are too many opportunities for a car/bike/rollerblader/small child/motorcycle/pigeon to run into you in half a second, making the danger of this action even graver than texting and driving in the states [a sure death request on the streets of paris]. I learned this somewhat-obvious lesson today when i went up Rue D'Alesia the wrong way, went back the right way, passed my destination, and walked back, nearly running into several [some immobile] obstacles during both excursions.

And what is it with the bold pigeons here? And how come they never fly into the faces of the Parisians? Do even the pigeons know I'm foreign, therefore choosing to take advantage of my exaggerated reactions of surprise by taking flight into my face?

Yesterday tops at least 2/3 of my days here so far, which is saying a lot, because it has definitely been more fun than not since my arrival on September 15. The highlight of yesterday was opening a bank account. But before losing all faith in my sense of what is fun, hear me out. There were three of us who went in on this adventure together. We learned, with many laughs, how to open a bank account in France. There are four steps:

1. Open first door

2. Fit into space between first and second door

3. Open second door

4. Make appointment with the banker

The first three steps were by far the most difficult, but also the most hilarious. They started with figuring out which button to press to alert the teller that the Americans have arrived, then progressed to trying to fit three of us [and our purses] into a space meant for one skinny French adult, and finally, wondering how hard someone is currently laughing at our confusion. [The teller was laughing pretty hard, as he told us once we actually made it inside.]

The actual opening of an account was fabulous with a super-friendly French woman who just delighted us right and left with diagrams and second-explanations when 'nous n'avons pas compris.' No big deal.

The second most exciting event was obtaining a library card, the third most exciting, buying a pack of gum for under 2Euro. Isn't Paris thrilling?! I swear I actually like to have fun. But if only others could know how hard we were laughing the whole day...

Tonight is quite memorable because not only did I NOT have a baguette's-worth of bread with dinner, but I had french fries -des frites- with ketchup. Who would have thunk.

Mont St. Michel and St. Malo tomorrow/Sunday!