Dear Paris,
I know that you are very upset to see me leave after this week. We've shared so many memories over the past year and I understand how you are feeling. Just remember those beautiful days in Belleville and the Gardens of Luxembourg, and all of the trips to the museums and soccer games together. Also, please remember that I will be back at the end of June for a true and proper goodbye.
Now can you please not torment me with the promise of thunderstorms that don't show up, let my clothes dry in your silly humidity, and turn down this godforsaken HEAT.
Love,
Petey
lundi 25 mai 2009
lundi 18 mai 2009
Fairytale, Is It True? Always.
Two nights ago Europe voted for its favorite. 25 countries participated in the final round hosted on Saturday night in Moscow. I had been obsessing over the Norwegian entry ever since I saw Alexander Rybak perform in the semi-final. But I was also intrigued by a few others, namely Moldavia, Ukraine, and the fact that Denmark's entry was singing like he was trying to become to opening act for a Toby Keith tour. I watched it at my friend's apartment where we had another one of Jamie's Dinners and some of those famous Manmosas (1664 and Orangina) before the musical festivities truly began. There was also some face painting where we produced drapeau representations of the countries we were supporting.
France, The UK, Norway, Israel and the Ukraine were all representing with flying colors.
In the end, Norway stole the show with a record 387 points and had basically assured itself victory throughout Europe after the 16th country voted. There were celebratory photos taken, recaps of the geopolitical implications given by certain votes (France: 12 points to Turkey!?) and a mad dash to the metro before it closed.
I didn't make it to Sevres-Babylone before the last 10 train headed westward. Luckily I was not alone. When I first entered the station, before I knew that my train wouldn't be coming, I was greeted by a group of about 10 people my age. One of them had a guitar and they were singing dancing and the like. They saw my face and we all sort of stopped what we were doing. I had elected not to wash off the Norwegian flag covering my face before leaving the apartment. They asked me who had won. I responded with a simple La Norvège and the dancing and singing began again. I was greeted with congratulations, hugs, kisses, and a few demands for some face paint. I wished them a Bonne Soirée and they were gone. So was my metro train.
I ended up taking the most crowded night bus of all time. No one was singing or cheering the Norwegian victory with me as my bus wound its way through the rainy streets of Paris.
I got home, washed my face, and went to bed.
France, The UK, Norway, Israel and the Ukraine were all representing with flying colors.
In the end, Norway stole the show with a record 387 points and had basically assured itself victory throughout Europe after the 16th country voted. There were celebratory photos taken, recaps of the geopolitical implications given by certain votes (France: 12 points to Turkey!?) and a mad dash to the metro before it closed.
I didn't make it to Sevres-Babylone before the last 10 train headed westward. Luckily I was not alone. When I first entered the station, before I knew that my train wouldn't be coming, I was greeted by a group of about 10 people my age. One of them had a guitar and they were singing dancing and the like. They saw my face and we all sort of stopped what we were doing. I had elected not to wash off the Norwegian flag covering my face before leaving the apartment. They asked me who had won. I responded with a simple La Norvège and the dancing and singing began again. I was greeted with congratulations, hugs, kisses, and a few demands for some face paint. I wished them a Bonne Soirée and they were gone. So was my metro train.
I ended up taking the most crowded night bus of all time. No one was singing or cheering the Norwegian victory with me as my bus wound its way through the rainy streets of Paris.
I got home, washed my face, and went to bed.
dimanche 17 mai 2009
mercredi 13 mai 2009
22, 32, 75, 84, 123
Non, these are not my lucky numbers for the upcoming lottory, but rather the buses I have used throughout my séjour here in Paris. The way spring is transforming into summer I find myself ashamed whenever I end up taking the métro, even if it is quicker in getting from here to there. The buses home from the Madelene have become more and more frequent. I'm still no expert on where exactly all of the buses go, but these ratp vehicles have become part of my little parisien niche.
A niche that I will soon be leaving.
Since I've gotten back from my Easter vacation in Strasbourg, which unfortunately I failed to write about, I've been stuck in a world of work as the semester draws to a close. I've been unable to escape from an unending routine. There have been a few adventures, Anne-Sophie's anniversaire, a museum trip to the Jeu de Pomme, a Jamie Oliver dinner of mascarpone and spinnach, but silly exposés on Vichy, papers on Orhan Pamuk and Victor Hugo, and disertations on French republicains have put a damper on my last few weeks of France. There is one more exposé for tomorrow on France libéré (remind me to finish that sooner rather than later) and after that its nothing put finals. There is also round two of the TCF, a French standardized test that I am not completely prepared for taking. I haven't had a French language class since first semester, so we'll see what affect that has on my abilities. I'm not worried about it, but it would be mildly embarrassing if I failed to reproduce my results from September.
September. Goodness I've been here for awhile.
Freiburg and Germany start in less than three weeks and I can't wait for this next adventure.
Other than the upcoming TCF and finals studying I've got a weekend hopefully filled with Eurovision 2009, Kandinsky, Manmosas, and James Tiberius Kirk.
à plus
A niche that I will soon be leaving.
Since I've gotten back from my Easter vacation in Strasbourg, which unfortunately I failed to write about, I've been stuck in a world of work as the semester draws to a close. I've been unable to escape from an unending routine. There have been a few adventures, Anne-Sophie's anniversaire, a museum trip to the Jeu de Pomme, a Jamie Oliver dinner of mascarpone and spinnach, but silly exposés on Vichy, papers on Orhan Pamuk and Victor Hugo, and disertations on French republicains have put a damper on my last few weeks of France. There is one more exposé for tomorrow on France libéré (remind me to finish that sooner rather than later) and after that its nothing put finals. There is also round two of the TCF, a French standardized test that I am not completely prepared for taking. I haven't had a French language class since first semester, so we'll see what affect that has on my abilities. I'm not worried about it, but it would be mildly embarrassing if I failed to reproduce my results from September.
September. Goodness I've been here for awhile.
Freiburg and Germany start in less than three weeks and I can't wait for this next adventure.
Other than the upcoming TCF and finals studying I've got a weekend hopefully filled with Eurovision 2009, Kandinsky, Manmosas, and James Tiberius Kirk.
à plus
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