Bruges

Bruges, or Brugge (if you err on the Dutch/Flamand language side of the Belgian language schism) is an amazingly gorgeous historical town about 3 hours by car from Paris (under 2 hours by train). I was lucky enough to stay there with some very good family friends who have a 4-story 15th-century house right in central Bruges. From there, I did lots of walking and bike trips around the town, dubbed the "Venice of the north" for all of its canals.

The city is home to great chocolate, and is also known for its lace (I stuck with chocolate). On the left is a picture of me, Duncan, and Marie at Dumon, a chocolate shop I visited more than once - I have a huge sack of chcolate from there sitting in my room, awaiting disbursement/ consumption. There's also amazing hot chocolate, chocolate fondue, or whatever else your heart desires around the city. The Belgians make most of their chocolate with filling, so it's normally different shapes and types of exterior chocolate filled up with everything from hazelnuts to tiramisu cream. I'd reccomend anything dark chocolate, and stick away from the fruity stuff unless you're into that. I was there for the chocolate.


As you can see by this picture of me (yes, those are sunglass clips) and Duncan on our bikes, Bruges is a great city to get around on bikes as well. There's a lot to see around the small city, and if you have a weekend, it's worth it to rent or steal one. The law in Bruges is that bikes have the right-of-way, so in theory there's care stopping left and right for you. Which is normally the case. Be careful.

I'll try and post more pictures as I get them from Aygline and as I have the time (have to catch up on schoolwork).

Here's some links re: Bruges and one last photo from at the house...

Wikipedia: Bruges (has some good scenery pics/information on Bruges)

Bruges Info

Hier Soir

Yesterday evening was one of those nights (which are becoming more frequent) where I wipe all things homework out of my head and proceed to have a damn good time. For my art history class, we visited the Ecole des Beaux-Arts (art school) to check out the grounds and the current exhibition, a very cool collection of drawings and rare books all collected by a man named Jean Bonna. The drawings ran the gamut from Ingres and Van Dyck to Gauguin and Picasso. The drawings were interesting because they did a good job of showing the artistic process - these weren't huge paintings, but ideas and studies sketched out and occasionally colored (it reminded me of the Jacques-Louis David exhibit that just finished at the Jacquemart-Andre, because one can see a lot of his sketches and smaller "tester" paintings of huge pieces like The Oath of Horace). Also there is an exhibition of student art, which was either exceptional or incomprehensible for me. One of my favorite things was this tactile piece that was a video screen with a sleeping woman. When you touched the screen in a certain way, she'd move. Very realistic, it was almost like I had a real girlfriend.

After, I checked out La Doree, home of the best macaroons in Paris, sans blague. After, I kicked it high-class at Cafe de Flore, which does have amazing hot chocolate, and is right on the Boulevard St. Germain. I'm going to try and organize a breakfast trip there next week.

At 8, I checked out the opening of Videodanse 2006 at the Centre Pompidou, because my host dad had passed along to me an invite. Let's just say I'm not in the habit of leaving movies ( I don't think most of the 20+ people who left as well were either), but it was just really uninteresting and weird for the sake of being weird. Plus, the production values were nonexistent.

After, Tiffany and I took a walk down to the Marais to go to another cafe I've been spending a lot of time at - Cafe Hugo on the Place de Vosges. Despite its prime location, it's not overly touristy, and has damn good coffee, real mint tea, and a decent selection of grown-up drinks ( I had an "Ernesto," which was Jack Daniels, fresh mint, and citron presse), plus good food.

Suitable for framing

Hilarious article by David Sedaris on his art background.
One of my favorite parts:

I was looking for framing ideas one afternoon when I wandered into a little art gallery called the Little Art Gallery. It was a relatively new place, located in the North Hills Mall and owned by a woman named Ruth, who was around my mom’s age, and introduced me to the word “fabulous,” as in: “If you’re interested, I’ve got a fabulous new Matisse that just came in yesterday.”

This was a poster rather than a painting, but still I regarded it the way I thought a connoisseur might, removing my glasses and sucking on the stem as I tilted my head. “I’m just not sure how it will fit in with the rest of my collection,” I said, meaning my Gustav Klimt calendar and the cover of the King Crimson LP tacked above my dresser.

While I was watching figure skating

I found this. Check it out, it puts the Olympics to shame.

More than cartoons

While I know this is a little off-topic from anything and everything Paris, I've had a few interesting conversations lately with some of my friends from Morocco about the cartoons in Jyllands-Posten. Of course, it's been on all of their minds, so the question I've been getting the most from them lately is what I think about the cartoons/how I feel about them. I thnk just having this dialogue has been incredibly useful, because let's face it, it's a dialogue that's hard to come by, to say the least.

One of my buddies, Naoufel, from the Association Nouvelle Rencontre in Akkari has been posting on his blog in english on this : http://spaces.msn.com/members/naoufallena. I've also been talking to Yassine and few other students and people I worked with last summer. One of the most common sentiments I'm getting is that there's a real mixture of anger and sadness. There's also a tangible powerlessness in what one can do for a reaction. Think about this, you're living in a third-world country trying to make a statement to western european country and the whole western world, what on earth do you do? Do you do nothing and pretend that literally the most important person in your religion, your culture, the very basis for how to lead a perfect life, is not worthy of some sort of reaction?

These reactions, from renaming danish pastries ala "freedom fries" back in some of the more ignorant days of American foreign relations (*cough* ongoing, I mean), to boycotting danish goods and protests and even to riots, have run the gamut. While I stated to my friends in Morocco that violent reactions (often organized and aggravated by a select few) do as much of a disservice, if not more to Islam, I also understand why people are upset. I feel there's a huge disconnect in this regard, because Americans look at this situation and we think instantly of our rights to free speech, and how incredibly sacred that is to our way of life. We're throwing this concept, this western idea that is not universal in this world (not to say I oppose freedom of speech) onto a lot of people that feel incredibly disrespected, and view it as just one part of how westerners view and constantly disrespect Islam.

While I was in Morocco, I had the occasion to meet an Al-Jazeera reporter who was literally asked to leave the country the day after I met him for reporting on the Western Sahara indigenous movement for independence from Morocco. Of course, I was shocked, even though I thought the reporter was a raging anti-semite and I couldn't have a decent conversation with him. Anyways, his dismissal was a function of a system that us Americans are quick to condemn. What we don't realize at the same time is that if there was freedom of press and free elections in Morocco, we'd have a majority Islamist party in power, not a strong western ally as we have in King Mohammed VI. Of course, nobody ever talks about Morocco when we talk about democracy (or the UAE, or Saudi Arabia, I could go on forever). When Bush says "freedom" he has a slightly selective view. What I mean by all of this is that there are elements in the Middle East right now that are very undemocratic and serve our interests, so we don't get upset about them. However, when Muslims react to these cartoons, we get all upset about protecting western values.

Obviously, I'm not Tom Friedman and I don't have a quick and easy solution. If I did, I'm sure I'd be tapping it out on my keyboard right now. I think it's just important in something like this cartoon issue to really try, harder than ever, to see every facet possible. This is not a simple question of liberty of the press. Nothing involving religion and international affairs is ever simple. All I want to do is keep on asking questions and keep on having dialogue. I'll try and post some more some other time after I talk with my friends more.

Le Rock Concert

Last night, I eschewed a traditonal laid-back Sunday to go see three bands play over on Rue Batignole, on the southeast tip of Pere Lachaise cemetary. The reason I went is because my host brother here is a musician and was playing in two of the bands. After taking the 3 line over to Gambetta, we walked in the rain down the length of Pere Lachaise (home of Jim Morrison's grave) to the venue, which was an incredibly cool space, full of french hipsters and the local music scene (looked like a gigantic American Apparel photo shoot). Luckily, the concert was free, so that meant a few more Euros on beer. We showed up just in time to see the end of the first group, with my host brother, Clemens, on the drums (la batterie), just hammering away as the lead singer growled loudly through the last song.

The second group on was actually just two guys, one of Clement's friends on drum and this guy who looked straight out of the movie office space (seriously, he was around 40 years old with a short-sleeved shirt and tie, awful hair and Steven Soderbergh-esque glasses) behind a lot of electronic music gear, including a few keyboards and synthesizers. This group rocked out as well with some semi-experimental electronic music punctuated by some vocals. It avoided the pratfalls of some other electronic "music" though by managing a semblance of a beat every now and then. Was definitely shaking my head along with it.

The third group was another one with Clemens, this time he was onstage with his guitar with a pretty decent-sized band. They also rocked out, forming some pretty interesting and occasionally too loud compositions. There wasn't a lot of vocals, which I would've liked to hear. After that, we made it back just in time for the last metro.

I'm definitely coming back to the venue though, I know Calexico will be playing in April, and I'd love to check out. It's always nice to find a venue with nary a loud american in sight.

For reference, the club, which is called La Fleche d'Or, is on 102 Rue Batignole, just east of the intersection with Rue Pyrenee on the southeast tip, easily accessible from the two (if you're brave) or the three. You can easily see it from the intersection. It seems like they have a pretty solid schedule of local french and bigger acts all the time. The scene was great, lots of civil-war era beards, levis, converses and general hipsterness.

L'Institut du Monde Arabe / the Paris Mosque

Yesterday, I took another break from Euro-centric art to go and check out an exhibit at the Arab Institute. Right now, the Jean-Nouvel (who also did the Fondation Cartier and is working on the under-construction Musee de Quai Branly I mentioned before) designed building is hosting an exposition on the Golden Age of Arab Sciences. The actual expo was very interesting, lots of texts on mathematics, astronomy, chemistry, and architecture. There were a few videos and scientific instruments, including some astrolabes and astronomical "globes" which mapped out the constellations. Definitely made me wish I could read Arabic. There's also a pretty comprehensive bookstore and a building next to the Institute that has a "Medina" replete with ridiculously overpriced goods from Morocco to Tunisia, Syria, and Lebanon.

There were two big downsides that ended up working together to make the whole experience not so great. Firstly, it was a sunday, so "le monde" (everyone) was there, and the Institute is a really skinny building, so the small ticket-selling room was overwhelmed with people, as was the claustrophobic exhibition space. I'd reccomend checking out the institute and their bookstore, but go during the week.

After that, I walked past the Jardin des Plantes through the Roman part of the city to the Paris Mosque, which has been around since the 1920s. While I couldn't go inside the mosque, there's a cool cafe on one corner with pastries, mint tea, hooka (shisha/nargila), and some real food such as couscous. It's a cool atmosphere and feels very neighborhoody, with a lot of french families and couples hanging out.

A little bit of meteorology

And the forecast for Paris is OVERCAST with highs in the low 30s F all week. I'll update on the rest of my weekend adventures once I get through this day of classes.

Strictement Interdit

"Interdit," which means forbidden, is a common sight on signage around the city. It's interdit to smoke in metro stations, or interdit to leave behind your dog's business on the street. Interestingly enough, the Parisians keep on doing it. So, I talked to my professor, and he explained to me that there are two levels of interdit in Paris, there's plain-old "interdit," and there's "strictement interdit" which you really don't do. For example, at the Musee Camondo yesterday, it was strictement interdit to use their antique elevator, as indicated on a placard. It's similarly strictement interdit to open the maintenance door in a metro station, or to go down a one-way street (but even that is fair game for the motoscooters). Interdit, on the other hand, is more like someone waving their finger at you, telling you that you probably shouldn't do that, which as we all know by the mountains of dog crap on the streets and the cigarette butts littering the metro stations, just isn't that effective.

Escalators

Or moreover, the lack of functional escalators in Paris. On any given day, 1/3 escalators in Paris are broken. It's funny, because it's Paris, not the third world, and you don't expect such a rampant breakdown in public services, but it just keeps on happening. The louvre, metro stations, or even the musee d'orsay are all prone to these escalator outages. My theory is that there must be a really powerful escalator repairman's union in Paris. Because I don't see how the escalator at the place de clichy metro can be closed so often. Aren't these guys supposed to be "fixing" these escalators? Maybe it's something I don't know about the delicate mechanics of escalators and the Parisian dirt. Anyways, I hate to say this (so much), but this doesn't happen in America. There, I said it. And I'm not taking it back. That goes for the moveable walkways too, which are ALWAYS out of service, especially in Gare Montparnasse. Parisians - get your mechanics unions in line here.

Musee Camondo and Musee Dapper

While Paris keeps up its interminable gray weather and frequent rain, I decided to venture out today and catch up on a few museums since I didn't get around to doing anything last weekend with "le gastro." One of the best parts about my host dad is that since he's an art historian, he knows his museums down pat. For today, he told me to check out the Musee Nissim Camondo and the Musee Dapper.

From the Place de Clichy, where I live, I made my way down the rue Batignoles to the Musee Nissim Camondo. The museum is similar to the Musee Jacquemart Andre in that it was a private house and collection bequeathed to the Institiut de France. The Camondos rose to prominence as a wealthy Jewish banking family in Constantinople, before moving to France in the 19th century. Here, in Paris, they quickly integrated into high society and constructed a remarkably modern (for the late 19th century) mansion looking out over the Parc Monceau. The family was incredibly active in collecting 18th century furniture and decorative arts, in addition to plenty of paintings, including a great portrait of one of the older Camondos by Pierre Bonnard (of whom a brand new exhibition just opened up here). So, their three-story mansion, replete with private quarters, receiving and dining rooms, a library, sitting rooms, plus the incredibly cool industrial-capacity kitchen (for dinner parties with more than 50 different plates) and servant's quarters, is full of beautiful things.

One of the most interesting and saddening parts of the museum is its history. The museum is named after Nissim Camondo, the last male heir of the Camondos, who died as a fighter pilot during World War One. After his death, his father retreated inwards, throwing occasional dinner parties, but preferring solitude. Nissim's sister was the only surviving Camondo, who married and had two young children. When the Nazis invaded Paris in 1939, she stayed put with her family, thinking her family's considerable aid to the French state would keep her safe. Unfortunately, her, along with her husband and two young children were taken to Auschwitz, where they all passed away in 1943. Her father, who had passed away in 1935, had already left his mansion, with its considerable amount of french cultural treasures, to the Institut de France.

After the Camondo, I walked down the Boulevard Haussman to the Arc de Triomphe, from there, I took the Avenue Victor Hugo down to the modern-looking Musee Dapper, which specializes in African and African diaspora art. The exhibit right now is on the African heritage of Brazilian art (here's the exhibit site, sorry, french only). The exhibit includes lots of Congolese art and religious and some contemporary art from Brazil. There was everything from rather creepy-looking Congolese idols to slave cuffs to some modern paintings. My favorites were small Brazilian christian shrines, small open chests with various religious objects inside. The museum also has a great vibe in general, and you can go through it in under an hour. Plus, it's one of the few non-European art museums. There's also a very nice-looking cafe, which was inexplicably closed and an African art book centered gift shop.

After all of that walking and standing, I figured it was time for a snack. So, I headed back to Place de Clichy on the metro and picked up some special ham and goat cheese from Monoprix, plus a baguette. I walked back into the apartment with my bag of food, and my host dad looked at me like I had just brought back a roasted ham or turkey. He looked concerned, "you didn't eat lunch, Isaac?"

I explained to him that I was just having a snack because I'd been walking around. I don't really think he understood. (The french really don't snack much between meals.)

This sums up what I don't want to be here

This is an article from the Onion, a parody newspaper.

Experiences

I found this article on experiences linked from one of my favorite blogs, kottke.org.

The article talks a lot about how we're moving more towards experience-based fulfillment than fulfillment through luxury goods. For instance, someone who might have once bought a porsche might now decide to go and hike the Inca trail or explore Thailand. What I liked most was the ending bit:

There’s this emerging idea of ourselves as projects — we are no longer labelled by our education or gender, or born into a social situation that we then play out for the rest of our lives. We can do new things, pick up new skills, learn a new language. Because we’re living longer, we have more time to think about who we really want to be. We are all asking ourselves, ‘How can I get more out of my life?’”

While it might seem slightly hokey, I like the idea. I've always been gung-ho about orienting myself around experiences, from the little coffee shop visits they mention to hopefully more traveling. Having been to a prep school where I saw plenty of rich older people with lots of stuff who weren't especially happy, it gives me a certain satisfaction to see a reorientation around things that I consider much more tangible. Plus, what's cooler than having project: you?

Paris et ses musees

While it continues to be dreary here, with plenty of rain and general gray, I've been having a great time with one of my most interesting classes here, an Art History class based 90% in museums around Paris. The class is basically a chronological look at french art from the origins of the Academy up through modern art. So far, we've been to the Louvre five times, the Musee Jacquemart-Andre, and we just did a class at the Orsay today on Courbet (including a stop at this, this, and a very graphic piece here) early Monet (this piece), and Manet (including Olympia, and one of my favorites, le Balcon with a youngish Berthe Morisot in the painting).

Back in DC, I whenever I get the chance, I try to make a trip to the Phillip's Collection, the National Gallery, or any of the other great museums in DC. I've done the Audio Guide thing and even read that book you find in lots of museum gift shops called The Annotated Mona Lisa (actually worth a read). Here, I've really had the opportunity to throw myself more into art, and it's been worth it. Art's one of those things you can see and appreciate, but the more you put into it, the more you get. Every piece has its nuances and history, and it makes the whole experience a lot more enjoyable if you get the background. So, while I know everyone can't take an art class before they head to Paris, read up a bit at least. Coming here excited to see pieces, even if they are some god-awful Renoir paintings, makes the experience a lot more rewarding.

Eurotrip?

One of the big questions one faces while studying abroad is how much to travel. Especially in a location like Europe, where there's so many amazing cities and historical sites, it can prove to be a difficult response. My mentality so far is that I have two long, two-week breaks where I'm going to revisit Morocco, go to Spain and Portugal, and possibly go to Poland or Tunisia. The weekends in between, however, are pretty much set aside for France. While I have some friends who've already been to Munich, Amsterdam, Switzerland, or even the Olympics in Turin, I've been holding back. I feel like this opportunity to live in Paris is too unique to spend the majority of it outside of the country. On the weekends, when I finally have a break from all five of my courses, I can do museums, longer walks, take day trips out to places like Chartres, Vaux-le-Vicomte, Chantilly, Versailles, or any number of places that dot the landscape around Paris. Plus, I get a better taste of the Paris nightlife - I'm more apt to go out to Oberkampf and check out the bar scene on a saturday than a wednesday, or to go out to a concert such as the one my host brother is playing in this Sunday night.

Europe is one of these amazing places that's going to be here when I'm 30, 40, and 50. And hopefully, I'll be making many return trips if I have any say in the matter (and finances permitting, of course). Next weekend, I will be heading up to Bruges, in Belgium with some French family friends, and I'm definitely looking forward to it. I just know that while I'm here, I should be as close to "here" as possible.

Of course, if anyone has any suggestions or thinks I'm completely crazy to squander my time in France without doing a gigantic Eurotrip, feel free to let me know - I changed the comments so that now anyone can post, not just those with a blogger ID. Keep in mind I've done the England, Italy, and Czech Republic thing. Also, I'm always down for reccomendations on where to go to over break, etc, as long as it's on a somewhat reasonably budget (ie: hostels, cheap flights, etc). Of course, I, like anybody, might have the tendency to splurge every now and then if something's really worth it.

I <3 Smecta

Smecta, for those of you that are curious, is an algae-based "oral suspension agent" that I've been mixing with water these last few days to fight off a pretty debilitating and nasty stomach virus. (That's part of the reason I haven't been posting much lately.) Let's just say there's a certain Indian restaurant right off St. Michel that I'm not going back to anytime soon. It turns out this virus has been going around Paris, my host brother had it last week, and all of the people in attendance at our dinner party last night (where I ate small spoonfuls of couscous) knew people who had it as well. Unfortunately, it hasn't exactly instilled in me a spirit of camraderie over our shared suffering, rather just me being upset at spending a beautiful weekend far away from the rather elusive Parisian sun.

On a more fun note, I did have dinner last night with the man who invented the water bed. (I don't make this stuff up.) Very interesting British guy who's clearly been places. He lives in Paris now and is with one of my host dad's colleagues at the Centre Pompidou. Anyways, we had some interesting discussions about Uganda (which our local AIESEC DC chapter has been active in) and some of his more random travels.

A lunch break

Yesterday, after eating a quick lunch at a student cafeteria, I looked at my watch and realized I had 2.5 hours to burn before my France and Francophone Africa class at IES. I ended up hopping on the RER train up to Chatelet, then I took the line 1 metro over to the Louvre to check out their collection of Islamic art. Right now, the Louvre has on loan the collection from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC.

Since paintings and representations of people/animals are not common in Islamic Art, the majority of the works were decorative plates, stone/ivory work, carpets, and clothing. The calligraphy was absolutely amazing as well on everything. My previous exposure to Islamic Art is pretty much limited to what I saw in Morocco, such as the tomb of Moulay Ismail in Meknes (one of the iconic images of Moroccan architecture is its doorway, even used in Marvine Howe's recent book, titled Morocco), or the decorative arts on mosques such as the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca (never has a monument to someone so awful been so beautiful).

One of the most interesting parts was the exhibition of several painted portraits of Persian leaders, all dressed up in 19th-century western military clothing. As I mentioned before, earlier Islamic art did not include many representations of people - it was seen as idolatry, and most animals and humans would be depicted in a slightly round or odd style as to not imitate God's creation. Obviously, over time, something changed. I know very few Muslims, outside of orthodox ones, who are against pictures of themselves these days.

SIDA and Baskets

Last weekend, I bought a pair of shoes that needed a waterproofing spray, so my first stop was naturally Monoprix, vendor of all things French and useful. Since Jacques, my host father, was headed up to Monoprix for some grocery shopping, I decided to tag along. When we got there, he directed my towards the lower level with all of the clothing and home supplies, and I went down there, searching through all the aisles for my shoe spray. After about ten minutes of fruitless searching, I found a woman doing some stocking, and I asked her (english version), "I have new leather shoes that I need protection for against water, do you know where I can find a spray?"

She looks at me quizzically, and says "for condoms to protect against AIDS (le SIDA in french), you have to go upstairs."

Flustered, I look around and then lift one of my feet up and point at it. "Shoes. I need protection for my shoes."

She looks at me. "Sir, as I said, condoms are upstairs."

After that, I gave up. I went up and told Jacques, who continued to laugh for a few minutes. He explained to me there were a few new employees from North Africa who didn't speak perfect french, and it was just an issue with comprehension.

The other incident occured on my next visit to Monoprix two days later. That night, I was cooking for myself, so I picked up a bottle of Badoit, my favorite sparkling water, some pork pate, bread, and some potatoes and sausage. Being constantly on guard since I always happen to not do things in the french way, I searched in my checkout line for a place to put down my shopping basket. Finding no baskets around me, I put my food down on the counter and stood there, basket in hand. The clerk looked up at me and started laughing. Loudly. She pointed at my basket, and asked me, "do you want to buy that too?!" Of course, it didn't stop there. She continued, "how much are you willing to pay?"

She then told me to just leave the basket before the checkout counter on the floor. Once she stopped laughing (admittedly, it was more good-natured than mean-spirited), I was able to pay for my food and get out of there.

I told Jacques about the basket incident, and he told me that you just set the basket down before the checkout counter. Now I know.

Monoprix and Picard

Over the past week or so, I've been slowly discovering the other side of Parisian gastronomy, far away from the pricey brasseries and restaurants dotting every street in Paris. These are the food shops, everything from Ed and Franprix on the lower end, to Monoprix, Picard, and Le Bon Marche at the top. Most of my shopping has taken place at Monoprix, which is ubiquitous in Paris, in addition to stops at Picard and Franprix.

Chris Rock has this bit where he talks about the joys of white supermarkets, and how heaven is the frozen foods section in a white supermarket. Chris Rock was wrong, heaven is Monoprix. Specifically the cheese and sausage/pate sections. Thanks to Monoprix, which also sells everything one would expect at a Target back in the states, I've gotten back into french food, after a few harrowing tourist trap restaurant experiences.

For example, yesterday, I met up with my friend Kitty down by St. Michel, and we went to the Museum of the Middle Ages (lots of Christ. Lots and lots of dead Christ.). After, we wandered around, got some ridiculously cheap chinese food for lunch, and then saw the movie "The King" with Gael Garcia Bernal (great movie, but not for the faint of heart... very disturbing). After that, plus a stop at "le smoothie shop," we decided to head back uptown towards my area and make dinner ourselves. After an obligatory stop at Indiana for their happy hour specials (3.40 Euro for a pint of Stella Artois!), we finally made it, bladders full, to our first stop, Picard.

Picard is the newest thing in french food stores, it only sells frozen food. Lame, you say? On the other hand, Picard, with its rows of freezers, actually sells amazing food, everything from amazing Salmon to desserts, produce, and even bread. Kitty and I picked up a thing of truffle mashed potatoes and then headed on over to Monoprix. There, we got a loaf of fresh bread, a block of goat cheese, 2 "bifsteaks," a 2.50E bottle of wine, and some Chocolate Mousse, all for 11E.

Suffice to say, it all made for a killer dinner. Luckily, I had some leftover pork pate, so we tore up the bread and I went through all of my pork pate (a little too fast...) and the chevre. After, we cooked the steaks and tossed the mashed potatoes in the microwave. Fortunately for me, she didn't like the wine, so there was more than enough (once again, I have to learn moderation here) for me. The dessert was ridiculous. Although it was just little chocolate mousses in plastic cups, they were unbelievable. Afterwards, totally full, and with Euros left to spare, I hit the sack early, a belly full of wine and steak.

Another time, I'll tell some of my stories from my first trips into Monoprix, where I definitely made myself stand out more than once.

Photos

Or moreover, the lack of photos. Honestly, I haven't taken my (mother's) Konica out for a spin here yet (all of the photos posted so far are from Meredith). I was kind of galvanized tonight (ps, yes, by tonight I mean me eating foie gras and goat cheese while drinking wine and reading frantz fanon. I can't stop myself.) by this article on photography. While I'm probably the last American college student who doesn't own a digital camera for crazy party/ keg stand pictures, this gave me a bit of a kick in the rear to get out there and start taking some good ol' fashioned photos of Paris without the aid of a LCD screen.

La Medina

After three lunches in a row at the admittedly decent student cafeterias this week, I took today off and went to a Moroccan place called "La Medina" right on the Rue Daguerre by the IES Center. I had a craving for moroccan mint tea (gunpowder green tea - I'd always buy "saddam hussein brand" in morocco - plus fresh mint and LOTS of sugar) and tajine. I walked in the door to see a huge collection of pastries, plus plenty of couscous and kebabs laid out behind the glass. At first I just intended to stop in to grab something "a emporter" (to-go), but, after hearing an arabic song I recognized, I figured it was worth it to sit down and have the full experience.

I flipped right away to the tajine page, and found my favorite type - the tajine citron with chicken and olives. The waitress came around, and I introduced myself, and we talked for a bit, it turned out she was from Rabat (where I worked this summer), so we bonded a bit. Luckily, 80% of my meager moroccan arabic is food-centered (since when I was over at people's houses, I needed to know how to go through a meal and be appreciative of the food), so I think I might have been able to finangle a double helping of chicken, and I definitely got extra bread. Anyways, the food was great, I ate it with bread, no fork/knife, moroccan-style, much to the delight of the waitress and to the chagrin of my napkin (tajines can be really oily).

On the way out, I remembered to say "schpeti" which basically means "happily full" and earn a sweet and sticky pastry. I know where I'll be going back next week with friends.

Additionally, I know for me sometimes it's difficult to feel that one can really tangibly hold onto experiences. As recent as Morocco was, it's also very far away from DC, and a little less so from France. Just being able to reconnect with my summer a bit was a great experience. I'm really looking forward to going back over spring break.

3 Months after the riots

I found this interesting article on BBC News today: article.

It seems that in at least one of my classes everyday, be it my France and Francophone Africa class, or my Business French class today, the riots are mentioned. The typical reaction one gets from a french person is that they "weren't that bad." In fact, upon mentioning the riots to several french people, they all brought up the same thing - that CNN, during its coverage of the riots, mislabeled french cities, as if to indicate how little Americans know about France (which may sometimes be true). Most people will swear they didn't see anything, any type of violence.

The end of the article mentions the police-relations issues in France, and that's something that's commonly talked about in class as well. In french, there are basically two ways to address people directly, the "tu" or "vous" forms. Tu is informal, used around friends and peers. Vous, on the other hand, is how one addresses parents, superiors, and people in any type of formal setting. For example, if one is talked to by a police officer, you sure as hell use "vous." And, reciprocally, the police officer uses it with you, this is not a casual conversation. The issue has also been that police (without being too general) will use the vous form with whites, and the tu form with arabs and blacks - a large mark of disrespect. As is often the case, the police point fingers back at the minorities, claiming that originated from a lack of respect shown to police officers. Whatever the case is, it's easy to see here in everyday conversations that France, Europe, and the World still have a long way to go in race relations.