Tout le monde va à Paris!

This post is an ongoing tribute to all the people that have made the very wise decision to make a visit to Paris during these months !

MEGAAAN!

Owen and Cath!



































O-Doggy and I and the infamous Circle-of-Life dance.




Steph and Jake!













Emma in front of Sacré Coeur

Lynsey! (with miss Robyn)

Know Your Pastries!

So I’ve taken various photos of all the amazing pâtisseries we’ve/I’ve been eating, and why not throw them all here in one place. Alternate title for this post: If I Start Getting Fat In My Pictures, You Now Know Why.

And here we go:

Opéra

Le Divorce*
What a great name! A divorce between café and chocolat is a divorce I can support.

Crêpe chocolat chantilly

Moelleux amandes

Tarte aux fraises

Tarte Normande (poires, amandes)

Gâteau chocolat

Assorted

Millefeuille*

Réligieuse (café)

Tarte aux pommes

Assorted

Forêt Noire (Black Forest)

Tarte aux framboises

Galette des Rois: This one of the cheesy Pirates of the Caribbean galette I discreetly (or so I hope) just had to take, having spotted it sitting there in the super-ghetto supermarket near Flávia. Around this time of year this huge circular flaky, layered, buttery, delicious cake is cut into slivers and shared among friends or family (I've had it with my host family, real family, and friends - excellent), and whoever finds the little truc inside (it's a little figurine) gets to wear the paper crown and be the king (Roi) or queen (Reine). From the looks of it the one that comes with this one is pretty effing jazzy. We should have bought it.
See my post in late January about my cousin Sophie's party for further info on this topic.

Tarte aux fraises, éclair chocolat

Assorted

* contender for Favorite Pastry

Cultural Differences: Plus/Minus

There are those that I very much appreciate, and those that I find incredibly frustrating. A subjective ongoing list that I’ll keep updating as I go along…

PLUS:

-high value on conserving resources e.g. electricity, water, etc.
-education system: With the BAC, students are forced to have a much better general knowledge base before they enter college; students are left very independent (i.e. no homework – usually just a midterm or oral presentation, and final exam); and of course, university is basically free
-importance of leisure time: you deserve it! 36-hour workweeks and 6 weeks vacation in starting jobs? Yes.
-student discounts everywhere
-resistance to our impending culture of immediacy: you still have to at least sit down at the counter for a few moments if you want a cup of coffee before work, for example. Not a lot is open Sundays and not a lot at night, because people want to devote those hours to themselves rather than to working, and because people manage their affairs so that they don’t need everything all the time, like we do. It’s really nice to stop, take a breath, and learn to enjoy life a little more.
-popular music isn’t all crap
-smaller (i.e. much more realistic) portion sizes
-wine is cheaper than coke… and always good

MINUS:

-everyone smokes, everywhere – the newly enacted ban on smoking indoors has fazed the French perhaps even less than I expected it would.
-education system: all of college is über-specialized with very little electives if any, which also means that you can’t really change your mind without starting all over; since it’s free, facilities and professors are not necessarily as good; classes aren’t posted until the very last minute and often change or are cancelled at the last minute; students don’t care as much or have as much respect for professors (at least in my experience)
-resistance to our impending culture of immediacy: it’s freakin’ frustrating! I want my midnight coffee now and to go, so I can drink it on the run on the way to the library or somewhere to pick up a snack – Oh wait, neither of those things will be open either. We all burst out in laughter when Isabelle (from our program, who was taking us on campus tours) told us that the library at the Sorbonne closes at 7. Oh, Midnight Mug, how we miss you…
-concerts end and bars close early
-showerheads not affixed to anything but a hose
-tiny cups of coffee
-telephone service is hideously expensive
-there does not exist a sandwich without a copious amount of mayonnaise already on it
-tips are included in prices, so waiters don’t care too much about good service, and the idea of substitutions or special requests is unthinkable

Example:
“We’ll have a pitcher of wine…” (pitchers are on the menu)

“No pitchers.”

“Okay, how much is a bottle?”

“No bottles, just glasses.” (a glass costs practically the same as a pitcher)

“Okay… then I’ll just have a mango tea.”

“What?”

“A tea… Mango.”

“I don’t have any of that.”

“Um, alright, can I have a passion fruit tea?”

“No more.” (Um, can’t you just maybe tell me which teas you have?)

“Okay. A café.”

(Nods, goes away.)

Embarrassing moments, translation issues, and other socially awkward situations

1. Saturday 1.20
   

So the first installment of this lovely series of embarrassment and awkwardness comes on my first day in France, when Madame’s daughter and husband (and ADORABLE little son, Thomas) come to visit for the weekend. I was a little groggy and out of it when I met them, since I’d just arrived from my red-eye flight, so when the husband said something and put out his hand for me to shake, I wasn’t exactly sure what he said but I guess I thought it was « Bienvenue » or « Bonne » -something, so I said « Merci ! » and shook his hand, and no wonder he’d looked confused, because he had actually said, as I realized later, « Benoit », which is his name. He was introducing himself and I’d said “Thanks!” and shook his hand. Wow.

2. Monday 1.22

Embarrassing moment #2 happens chez Starbucks, which I hate to admit I went to here in Paris – but in my defense, it was my third day here and I was going through major coffee withdrawal, and besides, it was interesting to go and take note of the differences between the two countries’ Starbucks. And I haven’t been back since and as of now don’t plan to. Anyway, I got to the cashier ready to order my drink, with the right French words for ordering my latté that I’d repeated in my head fresh in my mind and ready to use, so I was a little taken aback when one of the two young guys at the register said « Ça va ? » (“how are you”), and in my daze and flabbergastedness I once again reverted to « Merci » : apparently when I find myself in peril I give thanks, and this strategy really hasn’t worked well so far. The cashier turned to the guy next to him (there were kind of two people at the same register) and smiled, knowing now that I was a foreigner – who else would say “Thanks” to someone who asks you how it’s going? He probably thought I didn’t know any French but was pretending to understand. I then laughed at myself and admitted my French wasn’t great yet, to try to smooth over the situation a little, and then moved on and ordered my drink, while they continued smiling.

3. Monday 1.22
   The crêpe man signals for my hand, after I took a picture of Flav and Betsy with crêpes, and I give him my camera thinking he’s volunteering to take one of all of us and enthusiastically say « Oh, Merci!! », but then realize, as I try to give it to him and he doesn’t take it, that my camera is in the same hand as my money, and what he actually wants is the 5€ bill to pay for my crêpe. Everyone got to see that one… it was pretty funny.
4. Tuesday, 1.23
   Walking out of the supermarché, Susannah says: « Il faut marcher vite » I say: « Fromage vite?!? Quoi ?!? » (“We have to walk fast” / “Fast cheese? What?”)
5. Tuesday 1.23
   On the metro, there were three of us sitting in one of the booth-like sections for four, Susannah, Flavia and I, and next to me was a tall, somewhat older, kind of sketchy looking guy who definitely seemed like he was listening to our conversation, which had been mostly in bad French. Then he started talking to us, I think addressing Susannah, and I’d been impressed and jealous that she’d understood what he’d said, as she laughed after he spoke. He went on and on, and turned to me, and made little gestures, and on… and Flavia and Susannah smiled and laughed and I eventually said apologetically, when he addressed me, that my French wasn’t too good and he said to them, « Ah, elle n’est pas française? », and continued and they laughed, and I caught a few words (« rigoler/des femmes/laide/belles ») and Susannah was signaling to me, pointing to her cheeks on her face, and so I thought he was saying something about how beautiful women smile, and ugly women are women who don’t ever smile, so I thought they were all trying to get me to smile, and I did, and said I thought I understood… anyway, when we got off the train and I asked what the crap he was talking about, it was revealed that neither Susannah nor Flavia had understood barely a single word he’d said either, but had just ever so smoothly gone along and laughed at everything anyway, and were trying to get me to do the same. I’m… such an idiot.
6. 1.25.07 Susannah was telling me what cigarette packs say in France: she said « Fumer Tue », but I heard « Fumer Tout ». So I was like, “What? Wow, ‘smoke everything?’”, when in reality, it was “smoking kills.”
   

7. 1.28.07
   Note to future grocery shoppers while on vacation in France, weigh your fruit in the fruit department before you leave it. That is to say, before you wait in line at the register, get to the cashier and start to realize what you’ve done when she turns your bag of pears over in her hand, sheepishly say “no” when she can’t find the price sticker and asks if you’ve weighed them while staring at you skeptically wondering what kind of idiot you are, head back to the fruit department with your bag of pears, have them weighed and price-stickered, wait in line again, and re-hand your fruit over to the cashier who then lowers her head and raises her eyebrows a bit, remembering you from a few minutes earlier and still wondering what’s wrong with you. Stupid foreigners…
8. 2.6.07
   Not really an embarrassing moment but so could have been: I was trying to describe “boyfriend” to my host mother, and I asked, does one say “petit ami”? That’s what I’d been taught in french class but I figured it might be the case, as it often is, that what they teach you comes right out of those 1980s textbooks and videos (gotta love Robert et Mireille…) and doesn’t really work with today’s world. That was indeed the case, as she told me that a « petit ami » is « quelqu’un qui on emmène à son lit » , meaning literally, someone you bring to your bed. She said if you use « ami », it’s a bit more ambiguous, that is, it could of course refer to a friend, but you’re not really saying what type of relationship it is. When you say « petit ami », however, you are blatantly indicating that this is someone you “take to your bed”. Therefore we laughed and I continued my story with « mon ami »… anyway, c’était marrant (it was funny), and definitely could have made for an awkward situation in front of a different audience.

Another pic from the "fumer tue" night, at "Le 10" at Odeon, otherwise known as Sangria Bar.