So what is it like exactly to live in Paris? Well, after a week living in a Parisien apartment, using the metro, and dealing with tourists, I have a bit of an idea of what it is like. Living in Paris is like being a tiny bee in a huge, ornate bee hive. There is no such thing as a single-floor building here. Everything is at least 3 stories high in order to be smart about space and cram as many people on one square acre as possible. The appartments can be minute, just big enough, or huge if you're filthy stinking rich. Rarely are there townhouses that have remained towhouses, and the people lucky enough to own a Parisien townhouse are either incredibly rich or its been in the family for generations. A French apartment building works like this: the first floor is either the landlord's abode or a restaurant/store. In fact, I know a girl who lives above two porn shops. In the apartment you have to be smart and conserve as much space as possible. In the apartment where I was staying I noticd many ingenuis ways of storing things. The kitchen was about the size of a larger closet. The kitche also doubles as a dining room, and the dining room stools are stackable and go under the table when no one is eating. For hanging up coats, there is a collapsable/movable armoire. The walls are covered with various shelves and storage units, and the couch in the living room can double as a bed if there are too many guests over at once. Because you also have to keep in mind that you have nieghbors above, below, and right next to you, its important to walk with a lightness in your legs and scold your children quietly. You can have pianos, but you have to play them quietly and not at odd hours of the night if the feeling strikes you so.
The roads of Paris vary. There are grand boulevards with 8 lanes or normal streets with 2, but the majority of the roads of Paris are small lanes where two cars can barely squeeze by eachother. Its things like these that remind that this city has been around for hundreds of years. Originally there were little horse-and-buggys driving through these streets, not Citroens and Volkswagons. This is why scooters are so popular here. When I say scooters, I dont mean the rusting razor scooter in the garage, I mean a bright yellow vintage Vespa that can reach up to 40 miles per hour. There are thousands of these scooters in Paris alone, and thousands more in the rest of France. Scooters in France come in all shapes and sizes, mondern, old, beat-up, brand new, futurustic. I was awed by the selection.
The rumors are true about Parisien food. It truly is the best. The cafes/pastry shops/ bakeries here, though often over-priced and over-hyped (can anyone say La Durée?), they are of the highest quality. I wish I could bring back the pastries of Paris for everyone in America so they can know that the pre-packaged Little Debbie cakes that they are fond of PALE in comparison to the Parisien equivalent.
Speaking if La Durée, I should probably explain exactly what it is and share a little story. La Durée is probably the most well known pastry shop in France. It has been stationed on the Champs Elysées since some random year like 1878 and has gained notoriety for its delicious macarons and flamboyant pastries. I went there to see what it was all about... After waiting 30 minutes in a line I finally got to look at the line-up of treats. At first I was impressed by the number of macaron flavors and the creative designs of the pastries, but then I was doubled-over with the prices. One macaron was almost 2 euros. Macarons are tiny puffy almond cookies with various fillings, something worth half a euro at the most. The cheapest pastry was the equivalent of 7 dollars. The rose-petal flavored cream puff pastry covered in thick cream and filled with homemade red fruit preserves was pretty delicious though, and almost worth 7 bucks.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Le temps passe vite
The time passes fast! Here I am, just a month away from returning to America and boy do I have a lot of things to recount! (I just realized that the verb "recount" sounds a lot like the french verb "raconter" which means the same thing... HMMMMMM)
These past two weeks I have been on vacation. I know coming to France is already like a vacation, so I guess I was in a vacation within a vacation, a DOUBLE vacation! OHMIGOD! IT'S SO INTENSE. And here is when I stop the "Double Rainbow" video references and commence with the interesting stuff. I was in Paris during the second week of vacation. I have a lot to tell, so this is the first part of 3 blogs on this experience. I left for Paris the morning of the 7th day of March. It was a Monday. After a train ride that lasted around 2 and a half hours, I arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in Paris. Perrine and I navigated the metro to Perrine's Aunt's apartment where we dropped off our stuff and said hello to Perrine's aunt. We had sandwhichs for lunch made with the "good bread" of Paris. It really was good bread, better than a lot of bread I've tried. I'm totally at a loss as to how one can make one loaf of bread better than the other. It's just flour, water, and salt. How can different concentrations of such banal ingredients make for a better tasting loaf? Any bakers out there know the secret?
After lunch Perrine and I took the metro to the Montmartre area of Paris. Montmartre was and remains one of the areas of Paris most populated with artists, poets, musicians, and living statues. I say living statues because there are people around the Sacre Coeur who have painted themselves up and starched their clothes until they look like sculptures. They then stand on a little soapbox, also painted to look like a stone, for hours and hours and hours. They take pictures with people and hope that passers-by feel sorry enough for them to toss a coin into the little bowl at their feet. I wonder if the statues run if someone walks by and takes the money out of the bowl. That would defeat the whole 'statue thing' they had going on... I say musicians because there are tons of street musicians singing and playing instruments wherever there is space to perform. When ascended the staircase in front of the Sacre Coeur there was a man with a guitar and a microphone singing Bob Marley songs. He was doing a really good job too, I wanted to sit down with the crowd that was watching him and sing along. Vive la Humboldt! There are artists at every corner and famous poets have lived in Montmartre. Also, the film "Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain" was filmed in Montmartre. "Amelie" is one of my favorite films of all time and I was an over-excited fangirl when Perrine and I went to the cafe where parts of the movie were filmed, as Amelie worked as a waitress in this cafe: Le Cafe des Deux Moulins". I was starstruck as well, because Amelie is played by Audrey Tatou, who is a totally awesome French actress... (Also happens to be my favorite French actress next to Marion Cotillard, who Perrine doesn't like because she's pregnant with Guillaume Canet's baby and Perrine is in love with Guillaume Canet) After my wonderful experience at the Two Windmills I went to a little store where I found a music box that played the theme song of "Amelie"! I bought it, moving on...Another funny thing about the Montmartre area is the serious concentration of sex shops. There is the Sexodrome, Sexy Shop, a shop with separate video-viewing rooms for homosexuals and heterosexuals, and at night there is a large community of prostitutes who prowl the streets. I, disappointingly, had to leave before the ladies of the night came out. I want to see if they're all like Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. There's also the Moulin Rouge in Montmartre as well, the world famous home of scantily-clad girls shows.
The next day Perrine and I walked around Paris a little. We went to the Petite Palais for the little museum there, and across the street from the little palais was the Grand Palais, where Chanel was having their fashion show right as Perrine and I were walking by. The people gathered out front where people of another world. Such fashion, such style, such exuberance and flamboyance...I wanted to stay and watch the people coming in and out of the building but Perrine and I were in a hurry to get our planned schedule in so I could only linger out front for a few moments... but luckily enough we walked by big black tents where fashion shows for other designers were being held and I got to see even more crazy outfits!!! I also walked by models who were being trailed by a pack of paparazzi. It was the first time I've ever experienced the celebrity situation. The poor model was just trying to get from one place to the next and she had to politely pose for a few pictures in order to prevent becoming tabloid fodder as some sort of rude, evil person who attacks paparazzi.
Tuesday was also Mardi Gras! My only Mardi Gras experiences was seeing Shrek on the metro and a group of kids walking by their highschool absolutely covered in flour. Mardi Gras in France is pretty low key, although for some it's an awesome opportunity to dress up and throw eggs filled with flour at their friends. That's what they do here in celebration, Mardi Gras is the only holiday where costumes are worn as there is no Halloween in France. (GASP) Otherwise you have to be invited to themed parties, which do happen often so the French have good outlets for the costume-wearing jitters that strike all humans at one time or another.
Tuesday afternoon I went to the famous Parisien cemetery: La Cemetiere du Pere Lachaise. There I saw the graves of Edith Piaf, a legendary French singer, Oscar Wilde, Moliere, and Chopin. It was sunny and warm and the cemetery wasn't morbid, but a beautiful homage to those who have transformed into something beyond us, be it simply dirt or a being of pure energy, who knows!
These past two weeks I have been on vacation. I know coming to France is already like a vacation, so I guess I was in a vacation within a vacation, a DOUBLE vacation! OHMIGOD! IT'S SO INTENSE. And here is when I stop the "Double Rainbow" video references and commence with the interesting stuff. I was in Paris during the second week of vacation. I have a lot to tell, so this is the first part of 3 blogs on this experience. I left for Paris the morning of the 7th day of March. It was a Monday. After a train ride that lasted around 2 and a half hours, I arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in Paris. Perrine and I navigated the metro to Perrine's Aunt's apartment where we dropped off our stuff and said hello to Perrine's aunt. We had sandwhichs for lunch made with the "good bread" of Paris. It really was good bread, better than a lot of bread I've tried. I'm totally at a loss as to how one can make one loaf of bread better than the other. It's just flour, water, and salt. How can different concentrations of such banal ingredients make for a better tasting loaf? Any bakers out there know the secret?
After lunch Perrine and I took the metro to the Montmartre area of Paris. Montmartre was and remains one of the areas of Paris most populated with artists, poets, musicians, and living statues. I say living statues because there are people around the Sacre Coeur who have painted themselves up and starched their clothes until they look like sculptures. They then stand on a little soapbox, also painted to look like a stone, for hours and hours and hours. They take pictures with people and hope that passers-by feel sorry enough for them to toss a coin into the little bowl at their feet. I wonder if the statues run if someone walks by and takes the money out of the bowl. That would defeat the whole 'statue thing' they had going on... I say musicians because there are tons of street musicians singing and playing instruments wherever there is space to perform. When ascended the staircase in front of the Sacre Coeur there was a man with a guitar and a microphone singing Bob Marley songs. He was doing a really good job too, I wanted to sit down with the crowd that was watching him and sing along. Vive la Humboldt! There are artists at every corner and famous poets have lived in Montmartre. Also, the film "Le fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain" was filmed in Montmartre. "Amelie" is one of my favorite films of all time and I was an over-excited fangirl when Perrine and I went to the cafe where parts of the movie were filmed, as Amelie worked as a waitress in this cafe: Le Cafe des Deux Moulins". I was starstruck as well, because Amelie is played by Audrey Tatou, who is a totally awesome French actress... (Also happens to be my favorite French actress next to Marion Cotillard, who Perrine doesn't like because she's pregnant with Guillaume Canet's baby and Perrine is in love with Guillaume Canet) After my wonderful experience at the Two Windmills I went to a little store where I found a music box that played the theme song of "Amelie"! I bought it, moving on...Another funny thing about the Montmartre area is the serious concentration of sex shops. There is the Sexodrome, Sexy Shop, a shop with separate video-viewing rooms for homosexuals and heterosexuals, and at night there is a large community of prostitutes who prowl the streets. I, disappointingly, had to leave before the ladies of the night came out. I want to see if they're all like Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. There's also the Moulin Rouge in Montmartre as well, the world famous home of scantily-clad girls shows.
The next day Perrine and I walked around Paris a little. We went to the Petite Palais for the little museum there, and across the street from the little palais was the Grand Palais, where Chanel was having their fashion show right as Perrine and I were walking by. The people gathered out front where people of another world. Such fashion, such style, such exuberance and flamboyance...I wanted to stay and watch the people coming in and out of the building but Perrine and I were in a hurry to get our planned schedule in so I could only linger out front for a few moments... but luckily enough we walked by big black tents where fashion shows for other designers were being held and I got to see even more crazy outfits!!! I also walked by models who were being trailed by a pack of paparazzi. It was the first time I've ever experienced the celebrity situation. The poor model was just trying to get from one place to the next and she had to politely pose for a few pictures in order to prevent becoming tabloid fodder as some sort of rude, evil person who attacks paparazzi.
Tuesday was also Mardi Gras! My only Mardi Gras experiences was seeing Shrek on the metro and a group of kids walking by their highschool absolutely covered in flour. Mardi Gras in France is pretty low key, although for some it's an awesome opportunity to dress up and throw eggs filled with flour at their friends. That's what they do here in celebration, Mardi Gras is the only holiday where costumes are worn as there is no Halloween in France. (GASP) Otherwise you have to be invited to themed parties, which do happen often so the French have good outlets for the costume-wearing jitters that strike all humans at one time or another.
Tuesday afternoon I went to the famous Parisien cemetery: La Cemetiere du Pere Lachaise. There I saw the graves of Edith Piaf, a legendary French singer, Oscar Wilde, Moliere, and Chopin. It was sunny and warm and the cemetery wasn't morbid, but a beautiful homage to those who have transformed into something beyond us, be it simply dirt or a being of pure energy, who knows!
 |
| So famous their sign is in English and French! |
 |
| The Cemetary |
 |
| Edith's Tomb |
 |
| Just an example of some of the wonderful graffiti in the streets of France. Montmarte has the best graffiti. |
 |
| Geisha. By the way, help Japan readers! Help all who were affected by the earthquake! Even Crescent City. |
 |
| A wall in Montmartre where "I love you" is written in x number of languages. Can you find the english, french, and hand language I love yous? |
 |
| Moliere! |
 |
| Moulin Rouge |
 |
| I think he's more popular dead than alive. Huh! |
 |
| RESIST EVERYTHING BUT TEMPTATION |
 |
| Le Sacre Coeur... the pinnacle of Montmartre. |
 |
| Now I'm not a very religious person, but this message made me tear up and get all blubbery nevertheless: It reads: "God reunites those who love each other." Edith Piaf's very words. Sigh! |
 |
| This is me, in the cafe. And to the upper left you can see the Amelie character smiling her little smile! |
 |
| Shrek, I had to be very discreet given he was two inches away from me and we were all packed like sardines into a metro tram.. |
 |
| Spring is starting in France!! |
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Pardonnez-moi, mais est-ce que vous avez une cigarette?
The other night I was walking past a tram station with some other French teenagers. There was one lone person sitting on the bench and as we passed, he politely asked us with a strained, shaky voice if we had a cigarette. As he stood up to take a cigarette from the token chain smoker of the group, I noticed that his hands were covered in bloody and oozing cuts, his face was pale, and he had dark circles under his sunken eyes. The white stripes on his dirty blue track suit glowed slightly in the light coming from the street lamps... This haunting figure has now become someone I find myself thinking of often. I wonder why he was there, why his hands were cut, and what ever became of him afterward. Did he enjoy his cigarette? Did he stumble down to the Loire, fall in and drown? (This fate is pretty common in Nantes and at least one body is pulled from the river per year) I've also wondered if he was he a ghost... When we walked away from this man, no one said anything but everyone knew that he was having a rough night... At least he got a cigarette to keep him company in his upsetting condition.
You may be asking yourself now, what is the point of this bizarre little story? Well, it's the prologue to my blog about smoking in France.
Smoking in France! When one pictures the stereotypical French person, what does one see? Well, when I picture this person, I see a skinny man with a bushy mustache, black beret, striped sweater, black pants, a baguette under his left arm, and in his right hand: a cigarette. Oh! There are is also a stain of snail juice on his shoe from the escargot he ate earlier that day. I'm sure that what you were all picturing was more or less the same. It turns out that this stereotype, while being horribly wrong, is at the same time a little right. A lot of French people smoke, somewhere around 20% of the population, and everyone eats baguettes. I've also noticed a lot of striped shirts as well... I've only seen one person wearing a beret since being here, and it was purple.
At high schools in France, it is illegal to smoke cigarettes on campus. But once you're off campus you can smoke to your heart's content. (No pun intended, given that hearts don't want their owner's to smoke as it kills them) The high school that I go to is split up into two separate buildings on each side of a road. The road and sidewalk in between the buildings is considered off-campus. Therefore between classes and during breaks there are hoards of teenagers out on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes. I would say that a little over half of people at my high school smoke, despite the school's valiant effort to curb it. (When I say valiant I mean paltry. I've seen two posters at the high school that talk about negative effects of smoking on the body. That's one poster for every 400 students there.) When I have to walk in between buildings I always hold my breath because the air reeks of tobacco, and if you're unlucky enough to accidentally inhale you get a nice blast of second-hand smoke. The ground is also covered in the leftover butts; there is a little puddle where I think people have a subconscious agreement to throw all of their butts. Poor puddle.
I've already mentioned as well how I discovered two French boys smoking pot in the girl's bathroom, so marijuana is around too. In fact, a boy who goes to Perrine's school smokes pot between every class while all of his other friends are smoking tobacco. This is the chain-smoker I was talking about. Over the course of a night he smoked about a pack and a half of cigarettes. I was impressed and grossed out at the same time. I wonder what shade of black or brown his lungs are.
When I've asked around as to what the specific age is for smoking cigarettes here, no one really knows. Sometimes I hear "oh anyone can buy cigarettes" and other times I hear "it's definitely 16". I don't think it matters as I've seen people aged 13 and up smoking cigarettes.I'm lucky because no one in my host family smokes cigarettes but they certainly do love cheese!
Cheese > cigarettes.
You may be asking yourself now, what is the point of this bizarre little story? Well, it's the prologue to my blog about smoking in France.
Smoking in France! When one pictures the stereotypical French person, what does one see? Well, when I picture this person, I see a skinny man with a bushy mustache, black beret, striped sweater, black pants, a baguette under his left arm, and in his right hand: a cigarette. Oh! There are is also a stain of snail juice on his shoe from the escargot he ate earlier that day. I'm sure that what you were all picturing was more or less the same. It turns out that this stereotype, while being horribly wrong, is at the same time a little right. A lot of French people smoke, somewhere around 20% of the population, and everyone eats baguettes. I've also noticed a lot of striped shirts as well... I've only seen one person wearing a beret since being here, and it was purple.
At high schools in France, it is illegal to smoke cigarettes on campus. But once you're off campus you can smoke to your heart's content. (No pun intended, given that hearts don't want their owner's to smoke as it kills them) The high school that I go to is split up into two separate buildings on each side of a road. The road and sidewalk in between the buildings is considered off-campus. Therefore between classes and during breaks there are hoards of teenagers out on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes. I would say that a little over half of people at my high school smoke, despite the school's valiant effort to curb it. (When I say valiant I mean paltry. I've seen two posters at the high school that talk about negative effects of smoking on the body. That's one poster for every 400 students there.) When I have to walk in between buildings I always hold my breath because the air reeks of tobacco, and if you're unlucky enough to accidentally inhale you get a nice blast of second-hand smoke. The ground is also covered in the leftover butts; there is a little puddle where I think people have a subconscious agreement to throw all of their butts. Poor puddle.
I've already mentioned as well how I discovered two French boys smoking pot in the girl's bathroom, so marijuana is around too. In fact, a boy who goes to Perrine's school smokes pot between every class while all of his other friends are smoking tobacco. This is the chain-smoker I was talking about. Over the course of a night he smoked about a pack and a half of cigarettes. I was impressed and grossed out at the same time. I wonder what shade of black or brown his lungs are.
When I've asked around as to what the specific age is for smoking cigarettes here, no one really knows. Sometimes I hear "oh anyone can buy cigarettes" and other times I hear "it's definitely 16". I don't think it matters as I've seen people aged 13 and up smoking cigarettes.I'm lucky because no one in my host family smokes cigarettes but they certainly do love cheese!
Cheese > cigarettes.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)