Since you’re reading this, I assume you know a few things about me. Namely I’m easily amused, sometimes by things that wouldn’t be considered funny in polite company. Let’s get that right out in the open. I can find humor in almost anything, even if it comes at the expense of somebody else, and Paris (Parisians) is (are) no exception. One thing that strikes me every time I leave the house is the variety of clothing that people wear here, especially considering their age and work. On the métro every morning I take a few minutes out of my thirty minute ride to just look around and see what people are wearing to work. Men wear jackets and ties and other boring things, but it appears that ladies can wear almost anything they want.
Ranging from very conservative outfits to incredibly provocative, I guess it all works here. Luckily, their high heels are like an alarm clock to make sure I don’t miss one as she struts by. You can hear them from about a mile away, so there is ample time to judge and make presumptions about this complete stranger.
On the airplane ride here I read an article detailing the arrival of “la mode prep” in Paris. I always thought that Parisians wore black clothes whenever possible, and the thought of skittle-colored Parisians almost struck me as comic. Berets and Vineyard Vines belts? Luckily the prep culture hasn’t attacked Paris like an unwanted STD, but every once in a while somebody pays homage to New England’s Breton reds and blue seersucker. I’ve walked by a couple of stores trying to sell the concept, but to date I’ve only seen a few true examples in the flesh. Interestingly, boat shoes are massively popular in Paris right now. They don’t have Sperrys (yet), but lots of wannabes walk around the city’s cobbled streets. It’s an odd contrast between men in pointy leather shoes, wannabe Americans in boat shoes, and ladies in high heels.
Parisians are also not afraid to flaunt it if they’ve got it. What is ‘it,’ you ask? Well, it can be just about anything. One great example was a lady of about 60 years on Boulevarde St Germain de Pres earlier in the week. She was cruising down the street in her heels and jeans, with a white tank top on. Well, I wouldn’t have taken such notice if I hadn’t noticed somebody’s face as the two passed one another. I looked up and quickly realized the reason for the strange face. This Parisienne had decided to forgo a bra for the day. I guess more power to her if that’s how she wants to roll (or bounce), but the story doesn’t end there. No, in fact it gets better. Through her white tank top one could clearly see the outline of her two nipple piercings. I guess I it’s sort of cruel to be chastising this style; if a 60 year old woman can still catch the attention of every man who sees her, propz to her!
As far as my life goes, ça va bien. I’ve survived one week of SciencesPo methodology courses, and now we’re working in smaller classes groups of about 15 to really get the details of the SciencesPo style. The professeur for my group is a very fun French woman who speaks very fast and who reminds me of my own French prof in High School. She looks just the same and has the same mannerisms. I’ll try to get a picture at some point, but there is no doubt that you have doppelgänger in France, Lori!
At home things are also amusing. My host brother, Alexis, who has Down syndrome is very funny and makes occasional visits to my room to fill me in on little tidbits. After I got out of the shower on Saturday morning, I could hear him knocking on my bedroom door, but I decided to ignore it and see what happened. Since I have my own shower and sink room, I figured it could almost be justified that I didn’t hear him. Well, he’s very persistent, and the next thing I knew he was in my room. Oh well, I thought, I’ll go out and see what he wants. He wanted to be sure that I would open the shutters on my windows because the sun was out. <<Ah, oui, bien sur!>> (Many windows in France have shutters that they close every night and then open every morning.) Alexis’ room is next to mine, and he can pretty much see who’s coming and going in the house from his room. He can see the toilet room from his room, and whenever I leave it, he always asks “ça va?” (is everything going okay?). I’m glad somebody cares about my bodily functions.
Since last writing, I’ve been touristy and have made the most of the nice days for walking around the city. Friday night we ate what appeared to me to be Shepard’s Pie, sans veggies. It was hamburger and potatoes cooked into a casserole. We also had salad, and cheese for dessert (my favorite part). It’s important to note the French dinner hour: 8 o’clock or later. To make matters worse, you’re not supposed to snack between lunch and dinner. Well, that’s not exactly easy, but I’m trying my damndest. The SciencesPo soirée that night was in Montmartre, an “artistic” (aka sketchier) area of Paris. Although it’s famous for the stunning Basillique du Sacré Coeur, the district is also home to the Moulin Rouge and countless sex shops and clubs. All in all, it was a fun time, but I’m not going to rush back to hang out there in the wee hours of the morning.
Saturday morning I spent wandering from my house to the Champs Elysées. I came across an enormous market where I got a quiche saumon for breakfast. I also moseyed by the American Cathedral in Paris as well as statues of Ben Franklin and George Washington before arriving aux Champs Elysées. After a quick lunch of a curry chicken sandwich, I met up with Maggie and Tori, and together we explored around the Arc de Triomphe, and the area. Since the day was beautiful we intended on making the most of it. Well, that all went to Hell when the skies opened up and ten gallon rain drops started to fall. During the storms we’d run into stores to look around and escape the rain, and in the sunny sections we’d walk around some more. One place we escaped into was a car dealership thingy. It was five floors tall, with a total of 4 cars for sale. On the top floors were antique cars and on the bottom floors were the modern versions of the cars. It was really kinda cool to see the comparisons between modernity and antiquity (yes, the 1950s are considered antiquity to me).
After that, we went back to Montmartre (just didn’t get enough of the sex shops last night!) to see the Sacré Coeur and the city from Paris’ highest point of land. We spent a great deal of time there, looking around and avoiding the rain. An early dinner (7:30) was much appreciated. The funniest thing about the restaurant was that beer was 3.5 euros while water was 4. I love being a cheapskate. After dinner we dispersed to go home and shower before another bar soirée. This one was in the 1st, and was definitely the best so far. Finally there was almost enough space and a good time was had by all as we chatted, spread lies about ourselves, and spent more money than we should. Luckily, some guy named Mike who claimed to be a chemist decided to buy a lot of people many drinks, so we didn’t even have to spend as much money as we thought we did.
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