Guy Guns

Yesterday, I made a return trip to the Montparnasse Cemetary because that's how I roll. I was searching for Alfred Dreyfus's grave a second time when I was approached by a kindly old french man wearing a nicely knotted scarf. We talked a bit, and he showed me the way to Dreyfus's grave since he was on his morning walk. He told me about how he was from Brittany, and he had a name that was very odd by french standards. After a bit of searching through his pockets, he pulled out his ID Card. On the card, it said "Mr. Guy Guns." I kid you not.

Musee de Quai de Branly

I figured I'd link to this article on Gridskipper, one of my favorite blogs. It's all about the new museum opening in Paris in June focusing on non-European art. The article also has links to the museum's official site. Additionally, the same architect who designed the incredibly cool Fondation Cartier building, Jean Nouvel, is doing this one.

Lifelike sculptures and random walks

Most days here, I try to start with a maximum of one specific thing I'm going to do. Be it an exhibit I want to see, or a restaurant I've been wanting to go to for a while, I've found it makes the day a lot less complicated. As soon as you start building up these lists, and saying "I'll see this museum, then this museum, then walk here and see this monument, then go here for dinner" you kind of cut the whole exploration out of the whole deal, and that's half the fun when you're going around a new city.

Today, it was the Fondation Cartier, a contemporary art museum that has an exhbition of one my favorite sculptors, the hyper-realist Ron Mueck, who started his career in film and then moved to designing incredibily detailed, convincing, and sometimes painful or awkward sculptures. Here are a few examples of his work (caveat - some of his work is nude): Big Man (which I saw at the La Melancolie exhibit), Boy (I also love this closeup of the detail on his feet), and the top section of a woman I saw today who was over 10 feet tall and covered by a large duvet.

After that, it was walking/coffee time . While it's still cold here, at least the sun was out and there was plenty to see. I stopped in to check out the mass at Notre Dame Cathedral, which is quite the experience. Hearing the hymns being sung in latin was actually quite powerful, almost considered converting to Catholicism for .01 seconds.

The tricky part here is avoiding the tourist traps for dinner. Since virtually all of central Paris is also tourist-ville, there's more than enough brasseries full of American and Japanese tourists paying way too much for a sub-par dinner. Searching off the beaten path can be tough too, and yield some restaurants that look less than clean and sparkling.

Les Amants Reguliers

Today, I walked around the Latin Quarter/St. Germain area. I made a stop at the Latin American Institute to take a step away from all the Euro-centric art I've been exposed to lately. There was a small (and free!) exhibit on Brazilian art, which was refreshing, because I'd been getting so used to the more drab older European schools of art. After, Jessie and I did the obligatory sitting in a cafe drinking a cappuccino deal before sitting down for the movie Les Amants Reguliers. This movie is an experience. Clocking in at a solid three hours, we watched more than one audience member leave. While the Times review I linked to is pretty positive, it was basically three hours of intense staring and smoking with almost no dialogue. The main character (played by Louis Garrel, best known in the states for his work in the Bertolucci movie "The Dreamers") would just furiously write down poetry that we, as the audience, were not privileged to see, followed by some longing and depressed looks into his girlfriend's eyes, then more mad scribbling of prose. Anyways, then it was off to a bar for a Stella and an early turn in.

The moral of the story: don't see Les Amants Reguliers. Trust me.

The Cold Snap

Over the last few days, Paris has been in the middle of a cold snap, and it's been blamed on the Russians. Despite the unfortunate Russian winter, I made the most out of yesterday and headed down to the Marais to grab lunch at Ma Bourgogne, a restaurant on the Place de Vosges. There, I ate some hearty fare, including beef sausage and potato salad to insulate me from the cold. Then, Tiffany and I rolled around the Marais for a while.

Our first stop was the Musee Carnavalet, which is a museum on the history of Paris, displaying old knick-knacks, signage, furniture, and art. In addition, there's some cool models of Paris showing the old Ile-de-la-Cite with row houses all along the bridges and old narrow and winding streets. Besides its normal exhibition, the museum had two completely random temporary exhibitions, one was a black and white photographic exhibit of classic Parisian circuses, and the other was a collection of gaudy american jewelry (we're talking diamond encrusted turtle shells here).

Besides the Musee Carnavalet, I picked up a pair of shoes at the Camper Store, some chocolate at Jeff de Bruges, and finally saw the inside of a real American Apparel store. Also, I got to satisfy my craving for The a la Menthe, which I've missed ever since this summer.

In the evening, I had dinner at La Mere Catherine, an admittedly touristy, but good, place right on the Place de Tertre in Montmartre. I continued my adventures in foie gras (yes, I will repeat it again, I am a bad person. Sorry Rachel) with Tagliatelle Foie Gras, a pasta with cream sauce and foie gras, basically the richest thing one can eat ( I think it was actually a little much for my stomach). After that, I went through part of the box of Jeff de Bruges and returned home for a much-needed night of sleep.

When I got back, I was informed in traditional Parisian fashion that no french people shop at Jeff de Bruges, and that it's no good by my host family. So, one step towards Parisian, one step back, it always works that way.

A french dinner party

One of the big parts of the homestay agreement is that every student is entitled to two dinners a week with the family. With Jacques, my dinners have often been my taking part in dinner parties he throws.

For example, last night, Jacques informed me that dinner would be at 9pm with some other friends from the apartment building. I showed up downstairs at 8:45 to meet his friends, and he poured me some of his family's special recipe punch (read: rum with a taste of bitters). I took care sipping the punch in front of the fire he made, because I didn't want to be that American guy who drinks way too much. I soon looked over to find the two sixty-something women sitting next with empty glasses, asking Jacques for a refill, which he happily obliged. After my second glass of punch, and plenty of conversation (mostly punch-related, two of the people there had connections to the Antilles). I uncorked two bottles of red wine for our party of five, and then sat down to some amazing soup that was made using ox tail (more on that later...). After that, Jacques went in to the kitchen and brought out an "aperitif," a plate of what appeared to be large cow bones. I found out, yes, they were large bones. I was supposed to eat the marrow, something I'd heard about doing in France, but had yet to try, thankfully.

The way one eats marrow, at least according to one of my new french friends at the table, is you scoop it ouf of the bone, spread it on some bread, and then sprinkle a bit of salt over it, and voila. All eyes were on me as I stuck my knife into the center of the open bone and took out some marrow. I spread it gingerly on my bread and then put on a lot of salt. For those that haven't eaten marrow before, I won't ruin the surprise. Suffice to say, it's a unique experience. Kind of creamy, but not in a delicious, buttery, foie gras kind of way.

After the marrow, out came the beef, potatoes, peppers, carrots, and several other vegetables, plus plenty of different kinds of mustard and pickles. In addition, off to the side was a metal pot containing another surprise for me. After going through as much beef and potatoes as I could stomach, I found out what the other metal pot contained. Jacques had luckily saved the ox tail he had used to make the soup. These were pieces of tail, cut up in sections. Each piece is circular, with a bone in the middle, a bit of meat, and then the intact skin of the cow around the outside. Did I eat it? Hell yes I did. Ox tail is chewy. I think that's honestly the best word to describe it. After cutting off a piece, and then removing the thick skin, it took me a good amount of time to chew one piece. The taste is basically beef, but not nearly as flavorful as a filet mignon.

After that, there was cheese. Lots of cheese. Two different types of goat cheese, plus plenty of other varieties. This whole time, I was in a race to keep up with wine consumption. After the two glasses of punch, I had four glasses of red wine and two glasses of white. It shouldn't come as a shock to anybody that I am currently nursing off a slight hangover.

Musee d'Orsay/Bandidas

Today was my last day of intensive french at the Institut Catholique, so I celebrated by eating at a student cafeteria (...) and then went to the Musee d'Orsay, one of my most favorite and accessible museums in Paris. The collection is amazing, and runs the gamut from Monet to Seurat to Rodin to Gauguin to Van Gogh to Manet, to name just a few. Despite the random German schoolchildren that seemed to keep on stepping on my heels no matter where I went, it was some of the most reflective time I've been able to have here.

Anyways, given that. I'm off to see the movie "Bandidas" right now starring Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz. Yes, I know it will be bad. Honestly though, after all of these cultural experiences, I need a break to just laugh.

Tomorrow night, I'm off to one of my favorite restaurants in Paris, the admittedly touristy La Mere Catherine, in Montmartre on the Place de Tertre (where all the french artists paint caricatures). However, the place was founded in 1793, and has undeniable charm, and a french lady singing, accompanied by a piano.

Gratuitous Eiffel Tower Pic #1

This was taken by new GWU friend Crystal from the river boat. Gets me every time.

I just ate foie gras...

for the very first time. And I really liked it. Is that awful? Seriously, it's like butter. Anyways, it was part of a plated dinner we had on a boat on the Seine, sponsored by my study abroad program (a meal which also included veal. I am an awful human being now.). Hopefully I'll be able to get some new pictures up from the surprisingly decent restaurant/boat.

France Inter

A few says ago, I was sitting down for breakfast (aka: tea and bread... every morning) when I heard Antony and the Johnsons on the radio. The singer, Antony, is androgynous, with a Nina Simone-esque voice. My surprise was more because this was one of the big French radio stations, not some local college radio in the US. After Antony and the Johnsons, Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah came on. Within that space of time, I got hooked on France Inter, basically what American radio should be (in my world). Two nights ago, as Jacques (my host dad) and I were chowing down on his couscous and lamb, France Inter had a live set from Cat Power. This morning, as I woke up and got the tea started downstairs, the Flaming Lips came on. So, despite all my distaste with Johnny Hallyday and the french people's obsession with Black Eyed Peas, it seems like there might be something here for me as well.

Les Soldes

The sales all over Paris are in full swing, having started the 10th of January, and running up to the 10th of February. Today, I finally caved in and checked out the Paul Smith and Etro stores. I tried to fit my normally-sized American feet into the skinny Paul Smith shoes, but no luck. Next stop was the only Etro store in France, located on the Blvd St. Germain. Finally picked up a very blue scarf and officially initiated myself into the cult of les Soldes.

The deal is, sales in Paris are strictly regulated. Sales occur twice a year, around July, and in January after the holiday season. Both times allow stores to liquidate old stock for new collections. Other than that, it's "strictement interdit" to have a sale unless you are literally going out of business, creditors repossessing your store, etc. So, basically, it's a big deal when they're around. As I found out at Paul Smith today, the early bird gets the worm. Although prices continue to fall every week, a lot of the choice items get snatched up right away, like pointy black laceups in a European size 45 for example. So, if anybody happens to be around Paris during a Solde, don't wait. Make up a list of higher-tiered stores and more accessible stuff and get moving, trust me. Plus, with the more expensive stuff, the prices drop by comparatively more $$. For example, one can find 400 Euro shoes for 200, etc.

Le temps passe

Yesterday, I stopped by the Cafe de Flore, where I spent 7 euros on some of the best hot chocolate I've ever had in my life. The Cafe de Flore is right on Boulevard St. Germain, right next to another famous french Cafe, Les Deux Magots, known for celebrity clientele in the past such as Jean-Paul Sartre (yes, I will be constantly referencing Sartre). Both have the obligatory tux-clad waiters and $5 single shots of Espresso. Essentially, you go there for the whole experience. Sitting on the Boulevard St. Germanin, sipping an espresso, is a sublime Paris experience. All I need to do now is take up smoking (just kidding Mom).

I named this post "le temps passe" because it's the title of the latest Johnny Hallyday song, on which he collaborates with a french rap group. I saw him perform it live on the NRJ music awards (in french, the letter "J" is actually pronounced as the letter "G")... Frankly, it's a pretty ridiculous song, and about 10 years too late on the rap-fusion bandwagon.

Other things... Well, I've found that after almost two weeks here, time still flies by. I've somehow ended up popular enough to have dinner stuff all the way through saturday, and despite the sheer amount of things I'm doing (as if I'd have it any other way), le temps passe.

Musee Maillol

Today I visited the Musee Maillol and ran around the St. Germain/Sorbonne area. I went over the Maillol to see an exhibition called "Le feu sous les sendres" (basically: the fire under the ashes... yeah, I know, "La Melancolie" and now this). The exhibition was subtitled "From Picasso to Basquiat" and included a sizable collection of Basquiat. His pieces were the big draw for me, and it definitely wasn't a letdown. The most moving were a collection by a Croatian artist named Zoran Music (sorry, he's only on French Wikipedia) who had survived Dachau. His paintings were very dark, depicting piles of bodies and ethereal forms. The Picassos were a lot of fun, and while not the most uplifting in the world, they weren't abjectly depressing like some of the others. Despite all of that, it was a very interesting museum. Take note that it's not very well-known by tourists. Yet.

My new resolution is to find uplifting art in Paris. I came close today with a photo exhibition at the Jardin de Luxembourg I checked out, but I'm searching for genuinely happy art now. I'll update people if that actually happens...

A few more photos...

Meredith, once again being incredibly on top of stuff, has updated her photos from Jan 20 & 21. I was only around for the first part in the Montparnasse cemetary of the photos, but they're definitely worth a look. All of the graves/tombs were quite the sight. This would also be where you'd see me finally flashing my west side at Sartre's grave. I was frantically searching for paper to leave him a note... l'enfer, c'est les autres. Cheers Sartre.
Pictures (Montparnasse Cemetary, etc).

Random French TV Moment #1

I'm currently watching the much-hyped NRJ Music Awards, straight out of Cannes. Anyways, I just tuned in to a french man wearing a Darth Vader costume singing of the french version "are you going to go my way" my Lenny Kravitz. That is all.

Pictures from the 1st weekend

My friend Meredith took some pictures of me/other people/sights this weekend.
Get 'em while they're hot: Pictures

Includes Montmartre and the Egyptian Shisha Cafe...

Musee Jacquemart Andre

Today I spent the afternoon at one of my favorite museums in Paris, the Musee Jacquemart Andre. The museum, on the Boulevard Haussman, is a stone's throw from the Arc de Triomphe. Originally, it was a private residence of Edouard Andre and his wife Nelie Jacquemart. They had a taste for art and for traveling, and thanks to an impressive banking fortune, they were able to amass an amazing collection of art, including Botticelli, Tiepolo, Rembrandt, Fragonard, and van Dyck. There's also lots of beautiful architectural aspects, including a specially-designed marble staircase (it's the middle thumbnail on the right).

Another big reason that I went there was to see the temporary exhibits from one of my favorite artists - Jacques-Louis David who's famous for a lot of his neoclassical paintings, his Napoleon paintings, and one of my favorite (and admittedly not uplifting) paintings, The Death of Marat. My friend Zeke Williams would also be happy to know that David did the Oath of the Horatii - I was able to see a small version of it there.

In a city that's filled with prestigious museums like the Louvre, Pompidou, and Orsay, it's nice to find something a little less hectic and a little less touristy.

En effet

For the last week, I've been attending intensive french classes at the Institut Catholique de Paris. These courses, called propedeutique, have actually turned out to be very interesting. Since I was placed in a somewhat advanced-level course, we've spent most of our time on colloquial spoken french, basically what is of the mode (fashion) right now. For instance, today our professor took delight with the english expression "il y a les autres poissoins dans la mer" (there are other fish in the sea), which he'd never heard before, but did admit made a lot of sense. Our professor, who wears criminally tight Levis and various euro-sneakers, has made a point of getting us in gear for oral communication.
One thing that stands out are certain french transitory words, like donc (so), franchement (frankly), and most importantly, en effet (basically in effect, but pronounced as one word to sound like "enfete). It is not unusual to hear en effet every sentence, our professor used it twice in one today. While americans are most accustomed to saying phrases, something doesn't seem complete in oral french unless you have some sort of filler word in it. Often, you'll draw out the "c" on donc as you search for your response, turning donc into donc-uhhh.
This partially plays into larger issues of communication. Conversation, when it turns to abstract issues or politics can get suitably contentious quickly. Often, it will turn into one person stating their point, and then another jumping in and stating their point, ad nauseum. The exhibit I saw recently (and mentioned in an earlier post), La Melancolie, is a prime example of that. During the exhibit, which was beyond packed since it was of the mode, I saw many people taking notes on certain paintings. A lot of this, as I was informed, is for conversational purposes. You write down what you like/don't like to prepare yourself for discussions about the exhibit - which could be a topic at a dinner party (don't you dare discuss the weather, trust me).
For example, I tried recently to discuss La Melancolie with Jacques, my host father here, who is, for lack of a better expression, kind of a big deal in the art world in Paris. He had his favorites, but he also had his least favorites. When I mentioned a work, there was one of two responses - enthusiasm or dismissal. Something was either amazing and well-realized, or a gaspiage (waste) of gallery space.

Le climat

Adjusting to the climate here in Paris has been a little difficult. Days are basically "gris." Sometimes it rains, once in a blue moon the sun shows, and most of the time it's just overcast. This has definitely had an effect on the mentality of me and my fellow american students. It's hard to get psyched up about a walk through Marais/Montmarte/wherever when things are so dreary. Luckily, it did somewhat lend to the ambience of visiting the Montparnasse Cemetary. We saw the graves of Albert Dreyfus (from the Dreyfus Affair), Jean-Paul Sartre, Charles Baudelaire, Samuel Becket, and that Larousse guy who started the dictionary company here... (if anyone wants to see a picture of me flashing the west side in front of Sartre's grave, let me know.)

Another issue has been the humidity. Even though it doesn't really get under 20 deg fahrenheit here, it gets you in the bones. If I hear my host dad say "il reste encore chaud aujourd'hui!" (it's warm again today) I might have to flip out. Just a little bit.

The Metro and Popular Humor

Parisians freely admit that they just don't smile very often in public. The M.O. on the Metro is a perfect representation of that - it is borderline funereal - avoid eye contact, avoid looking like you don't know what's going on (aka getting off on the wrong stop... like me), and above all don't attempt to start up spontaneous conversation. I've learned to adjust by avoiding counting the number of stops I have left on my "Streetwise Paris" map, pretending to stare out the window, or just visually doublechecking to make sure I double-knotted my Converse high tops (the Parisians love converses and levis).

So, you can only imagine my continued amazement at the state of french popular comedy. Two nights ago I had the misfortune of tuning in to "Asterix et Obelix contre Cesar." This was a movie that had not only Gerard Depardieu as Obelix, but also Roberto Benigni as a foppish Roman General named "Detritus" who has a powdered face and wears lavender robes. (To be fair, my host dad said it was complete trash.) Unfortunately, it doesn't stop at Asterix live-action movies. This is a country that idolizes Jerry Lewis. There are plenty of toilet jokes on french television, and movies such as the new "Un Ticket a l'Espace," some sort of astronaut comedy, are no better. Another movie on the way here is a spanish movie that's been getting a lot of press is called "Bandidas," starring Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz. They were recently interviewed on a french show I was watching. Both barely speak a lick of french, so as they were trying to follow along with the questions, the interviewer asks them "do you eat your boogers?" Everybody, but poor Salma and Penelope burst out laughing, who didn't understand the word. The interviewer repeats the word, saying "wait, you don't know what boogers are?" while the whole audience is in hysterics.

Anyways, I'm definitely going to have to see more before I delve into cultural anthropology, but I find it interesting that people who can be so serious in one medium can be so ridiculous in another (without making sweeping generalizations).

Sonic Inconveniences

As I've mentioned before, eating in Paris is often a pretty expensive proposition. Even with a "Menu Formule," (essentially a salad, main course, and dessert/drink) it adds up quickly. One of the ways that students circumvent the priciness of meals is through the numerous student cafeterias located around Paris. These cafes are subsidized by the government and offer cheap hot food for 2.70 Euros per meal with a student ID. For example, today I went to one not too far from the Institut Catholique and got "steak," french fries, a salad, and some yogurt. None of the food was amazing, but after sitting in my "propedeutique" (intensive language sessions) for 3 hours, anything was fine.

The tricky part in these student cafes is jostling in line and to get a seat. Everybody packs in, with barely enough room to maneuver a tray, and you have to use a combination of "pardons" and elbows to get your point across. The students so value their lunch time that today, as Meredith, Steven and I were sitting having lunch amid a sea of brightly-colored scarves and rapidly moving silverware, the fire alarm went off. Everybody looked up, annoyed, and continued eating. Two people in the back, in this cafeteria full of over 150 people, got up and left. After 5 minutes, the alarm finally turned off, to no great fanfare or acknowledgement besides a few exasperated sighs from the young ladies sitting next to us. All of it brought me back to the days of high school and college at GWU, where a fire alarm isn't just a sonic inconvenience.

Apres quelques jours...

One of the most intimidating things about Paris is the sheer amount of things to do. Be it museums, cafes, shopping, tourist sights, whatever, there is no lack of options here. Coming into Paris for a week or so the past two times, I’ve always found myself conducting some type of triage – deciding which sights are really worth it, which neighborhoods are the most Parisian, etc. This time, I’m faced with the opposite problem – there’s very little selection I have to do at this point. Since I’m so early in my trip, I can still hop on the Metro and get off at some random station, explore, and feel like I’ve spent a day doing something worthwhile. Random things, such as the Musee du Vin, or actually exploring the somewhat seedy neighborhood of Pigalle have become a lot more possible. So, while I’m constantly being inundated with a million new things to do, it’s great to know there’s a chunk of time always ahead of me.

Since I haven’t updated, well, since I got here, I figured I’d just write down some highlights and observations, since nobody wants to hear “I went here, then I went there and it was really cool, etc.”

Highlights:

- As always, the view from Sacre Coeur.

- Eating cheese and drinking wine by the Bon Marche today

- Realizing that my IES program is literally 90-odd percent female. Score.

- Having a Middle-Eastern night on Saturday, replete with Tunisian food and an Egyptian hookah bar.

- Spending 2 hours on Sunday just sitting in the Parc du Champ De Mars, staring out at the Seine and the Eiffel Tower

- My killer host family/location/apartment. The dad is high up at the Centre Pompidou, and gets all these art opening invitations and has special access to museums. The son is a musician/DJ, and I went to see him spin on Friday at a bar off the touristy part in Montmartre. The apartment is right on the Place de Clichy, so I’m a few minutes walk from Montmartre, but definitely not more than ½ an hour by metro from most of Paris, in addition to being 50 meters from a metro stop. The apartment is this really French 2-story place with a private terrace (which I have a prime view of), cool art, and a lot of charm

- The food in general – while everything is VERY expensive, I’ve been able to eat some decent food. They even serve Espresso at McDonalds (I only know that because all the McDonalds have WiFi).

- Seeing the art exhibit “La Melancolie” (how French) at the Grand Palais. It is the fashionable art exhibit now, and just finished on Sunday.

Observations:

- Less electricity. Parts of this apartment, such as the bathroom, are not heated (this makes for some very cold morning showers, despite the hot water). You also turn off lights/everything if you’re not in the room.

- Saying “bonjour” when you enter a place (ie: café or store) gets you a long way. Just acknowledging that you’re entering someone else’s space is key.

- Smiling here when you don’t know someone is seen as fake / disingenuous.

- Honestly, French people are very nice and accommodating, you just can’t expect good service by talking to someone in a foreign language.

- The women are so put together it’s ridiculous. Besides the fact that so many are just beautiful, they are always wearing a full outfit – sweatpants do not exist on the streets for them.

Soyez Bienvenue

So, I'm currently leeching off of someone's wireless connection in my new room in Paris, right off the Place de Clichy in the 17th Arrondisement. I'm all unpacked and destressed and rehydrated after a long plane ride from Chicago, ready to hit the streets. My living situation is amazing - it's basically a two-story apartment overlooking a terrace (from which I have a huge window). Both of the guys (the father and son) are very easy to get along with, and I've already been invited to one of the son's concerts on friday. The father, who works at the Centre Pompidou, showed me his library, and I'm taken aback - it's walls of Art History books (something I've always wished I studied more of), which he gave me free rein over.

I've just figured out the metro route from Place de Clichy to Place de la Bastille, and I'm on my way now to pick up a Carte SIM for my pied noir arabic mobile phone so I can call some french friends and set up a rendezvous. Of course, I have to be back by 10pm for dinner (so much for getting some rest tonight!). I'll post some more coherent thoughts when I actually become lucid enough to compose myself a bit more. Suffice to say that first impressions are all very positive, and I'm so excited to be here. I was just looking out the window onto our little terrace/park thing, and I realized I'm fucking in Paris!

Le Monde Francophone

I spent the past week out in the charming and cosmopolitan city of Dayton, Ohio at a conference for AIESEC, the international student org that I'm involved with in DC (I also went to Morocco on an AIESEC Program). In Dayton, since one trip outside the hotel more than sufficed, I spent the time attending sessions and meeting as many people as I could. The international flavor was amazing - there were people from Japan, Macau, The UK, The Netherlands, and even Canada (!) among others.
While there, I made a point of corralling any person who spoke a modicum of French into conversation. I talked to people from Haiti, Cote d'Ivoire, France, and other Americans who love the language as much as I do. One night, as I took a break from cutting a rug on the dance floor (be glad you weren't there, I'm a woman-repeller when I get my groove on), we managed to gather a few people for an impromptu session - which I quickly termed "le monde Francophone" (the french-speaking world). While it didn't last that long, and I was as anxious as ever to continue my wooden dancing to Madonna, it was a great opportunity to get myself even more excited for Paris - I'll head out on the 10th of Jan.

On a side note, I just got my homestay assignment. While all the details aren't totally clear, I'm living with a guy who works at the Centre Pompidou, and his son who is an electronic music composer - I'm very happy about the living arrangements.