in love...

no no not a French boy.

A French professor.

Who
is
so
lovely.

Yes, I have again developed a female crush. For those of you who know about my other erstwhile female crush last semester...this new one is just as lovely.

Her name is Perrine, and she is from Bogota. She was the professor who conducted my oral French interview and pointed out that I was speaking Spanish. She is incredibly pretty, but in that charming, naturally lively way. She is blond, young (I would say early 30s at most), intellectual, sweet and extremely extremely...oh I don't know, beautiful. I could not stop staring at her during the tour of the Bastille she gave yesterday...she has one of those faces, that you just cannot cannot help looking at and wondering, how does someone have so much prettiness, so much charm, in a single person.

Trust me to develop a crush on a girl before a guy. I wonder if this trend of mine is a backlash to the disappointment towards guys of my age. In any case, Severine is better looking than the equivalent of any male I've seen in Paris.

In other news, I almost developed frostbite on Friday! It was about 0 degrees, and the sort of cold that bites, not nips. Bites, really hard. Foolish me, I decided to wear a dress on our first night out of the week. And ended up walking for almost TWO hours in the cold with only a thin dress on underneath my coat, because we couldn't find a bar that wasn't a) exclusive or b) not alive on a Friday night...and this was near the Champs-Elysees! So much for going out.

We ended up at a McDonald's at the stroke of midnight, a place I haven't eaten in for SIX years. And true to my anti-McDo commitment, I drank only a hot tea as my body slowly thawed in the warm light of McDo, as the French call it. Some sketchy guys approached Jen Kan and asked if she was Korean...what is the trend here????

Yesterday, for Chinese New Year, I went to Dongbo's (a friend from Harvard) friends' apartment in the uppermost north of Paris for dinner. Dongbo and I cooked a huge dinner for 6 people, and all throughout dinner, I again realized how bad my French was when I tried in vain to understand the rapid fire conversation over the dinner table.

This is where a French boyfriend would *really* come in handy. Although I think I'd be violating my dating principles if I dated someone only to use them to improve my French. I wonder what Kant would say to that. Probably wouldn't be too bad, as I wouldn't be objectifying them sexually.

Alas, I have so much French homework, it is slightly ridiculous : / More updates later!

bisous!

brrrr

because it is so cold here. I thought I had left cold weather behind me in cruel Boston, but Paris is a different genre of cold. As my flatmate Alex puts it, it is a cold that chills your bones, as banal as that phrasing is. It's quite insidious, a subtle seeping of coldness into you. Even the weather mirrors the city in its subtlety.

Some interesting things have happened, though not many.

Scenario 1 (At the 3 Ducks Hostel)

Jen Kan (visiting from Harvard) and I are at the hostel accessing the internet. Scene: smoky, steady stream of chatter all about, dimly lit pub-style setting.

Me (typing furiously on gmail).

Random guy at next table (in French, translated): Hey, do you live here?
Me: Yes, I live in this neighborhood.
Guy: What are doing here, blahblahblah
Me: blahblahblah.
...
Guy: So are you Chinese?
Me: Uhm, yes, I was born in China.
Guy: So my friend here and I made a bet. I said you were Chinese, and he said you were Japanese
Me: Uh...ok.
Guy's friend: I thought you were Japanese because Chinese people have yellower skin, and your skin is pretty white.
Me: Er..ok. I think my skin isn't that white, but thanks, I suppose

Uh huh. Very funny.

Scenario 2 (In the middle of an intersection next to my apartment)
Hot French guy in car pulls up to light.
Kate stares intently at hot guy because he is hot (obviously)
Hot guy turns his head, notices Kate staring blatantly at him
Kate continues staring
Guy starts driving past intersection slowly, Kate still staring
Guy STOPS completely in the middle of the intersection, sticks his head out of the window towards my direction.
I burst into laughter along with Jen. Hysterically.
Hot guy keeps on staring.
Jen and I saunter off, clutching our tummies.
Hot guy still craning his head, stopped in the intersection.


You see, these are the such wonderful moments, fleeting chance encounters with random strangers you won't ever meet again. Ineffably poetic.

Anyway, so my French methodology class is really hard. I don't know why they thought from my tests that I was remotely good at speaking/writing French, but we are moving so fast. We spent 4 hours discussing a short prose poem titled "The Oyster" (in French of course), and had to write an introduction, and now a detailed plan for a composition. It's so different from what I'm used to in the US, but extremely fascinating. I admire French students for being able to deconstruct so thoroughly and critically and systematically.

Imagine the poem as a plump roast chicken. We picked the bones clean. Although I'm sure French students would suck the marrow out too.

I went shopping too, along the Rue de Rennes shoe shops and at the Galeries Lafayette (imagine Macy's on quadruple dose steroids, yes!), and bought some sweaters, because I am FREEZING. Our apartment is charmingly French. Which means charmingly cold, especially in the bathroom. I can't believe I didn't even bring a sweatshirt!

Jen and I are going to Rue de Rivoli and la Samaritaine for some more shopping, and if all works out, I will ACTUALLY go out today. I've been threatening to all week, but have been so busy.

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, so happy new year everyone! I'll be having dinner with Dongbo (from Harvard) at his French friends' apartment, so yay for celebrating!

bisous to all!

completely done...

with mes examens!!!!!

Justice, go stick yourself in a mousehole. Je rigole!! I actually quite enjoyed writing the essays, even taking time to write in a neat, slanting calligraphic hand sneakily reminiscent of the font on this blog...subtle influence?

It's turned suddenly so cold here, even though the sky is as crisp as a Rome Beauty (make that a Jonagold). And on the day I bravely ventured out in a skirt...brrrrr....brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Today, we received the rundown of cautions from Cecile, pour les petites americaines...

1. Girls in short skirts and tight clothing WILL get catcalled and stared at. Maybe even groped.

2. (And the best one!) Many of you will want to go out. If a French guy approaches you at a bar and says "Oh you are so pretty! Do you want to go home with me?", SAY NO!

I promise I won't do that, really! Say no to drugs. And by drugs I mean good looking French men who try to seduce me.


(side note: I am talking to my dad via Skype messaging, and it is SO weird. It's like talking to Jimmy or something...except without the youthful slang)

I realized that when I am alone and in a store, especially in a boulangerie, I don't get any strange looks or people thinking I am American, but when I am with other students, we get that look "Ah, les Americaines!"

I like exploring by myself--today, I'm going to sit down and plan all the visits this Orientation, there's so much I want to see. Especially la Cimitiere Pere Lachaise...I absolutely adore cemeteries...they are wistfully, enchantingly romantic. One cannot approach cemeteries with a scientific eye, only a romantic, literary, historical and/or cultural perspective will do. I've half a mind to do gravestone rubbings, some of the tombstones are so elegaic and lovely. Abelard and Heloise suffered during their lives, but look how they are revered in memory. But does eternal (or at least for as long as humans live on this earth) glory outweigh pain in existence?

Oh, but cemeteries! I would consider a stroll in the cemetery a perfect date......

But no cemeteries tonight. Tonight, to reward ourselves for finishing our exams, we are going out : )

Expect an entry tomorrow my dears!

orientation

Today was the first "official" day of the CUPA program.

I debated walking or taking the metro, but because my laptop was extremely heavy (oh those Dells, trusty but so stolid), I decided to hop on the metro and use my Carte Orange (long-term metro pass) for the first time.

After the first stop, we stopped for 10 minutes at Volontaires, while a soothing and apologetic male voice garbled something in French that took me 4 repetitions to understand. Apparently, there was an accident on line 12 towards Porte la Chapelle, which is my line. Accident! I was about to get off and make the walk to CUPA when the train rumbled to life again. Only to stop again at the next stop, Falguiere. I just lept off the metro and walked the rest of the way down rue de Vaugirard.

There are so many students in CUPA, almost 50! Double the fall number! There are I think 7 or 8 of us from Harvard, and there are a lot of Georgetown students, as well as some Yalies. We Harvardians sort of stuck together, which is not quite so good, but it was so overwhelming, to be let loose in a tiny room with 50 people you don't know!

They had lychees, can you believe? They reminded me of my grandparents and my extended family, who are all in China right now, celebrating the coming of the New Year. Imagine, lychees in France! I chattered with some new students and then made the moves on a platter of delicious, pastel colored macaroons, chatting with Monalisa, the French student intern, about food. And boys.

She asked: "So do you see any cute ones in the program?"
Me: "Erhm, one, that one. But he's not my style. I like boys who are erhmmnm (trying to think of the work for scrawny and nerdy)...mince (thin) et intellectuel?
M: "aha, you mean intellec? we call people who are intellectuals "intellecs""
Me: "Yes, that's it. I don't like big guys."
M: (giggles) "Neither do I! Those sporty times I don't find very attractive."
Me:"Yes! Especially those who look like football players (sorry football players...)! They look like they take steroids."
M: "Haha, you should ask them if they take steroids."

And then I had an interview with a very nice professor of methodology (the French way of academics). She was very sweet.

And I am so tiiiiiiiiired!!!! I want to dormir, but I've slept plenty.

I can't wait till after Justice finishes tomorrow. Goodness.

kate the klutz

officially had her first accident in Paris. Before I launch into an account of my silliness, let me describe the Paris metro stations.

You buy a ticket. You insert the ticket into this little machine that spits it out, imprinted with the indelible stamp of usage. You grasp the ticket and shove yourself against the turnstile, and against two horse-stall like doors that are metal and heavy.

Yesterday, one of those metal doors claimed a nice chunk of my lower lip. Well, perhaps that's a bit much, but yes, it slammed against my lower lip and tore away a piece of skin+more right where my upper and lower lips meet. It bled. My blood is, as confirmed empirically, salty.

I was so mortified, as Parisians seem to gracefully dodge swinging metal doors, and sucked my lip on the metro ride back home, trying not to look stupid. The people on the metro probably thought I had an abusive husband or other hurtful domestic partner.

So much for Paris instilling more grace in me. At least I haven't managed to fall down the narrow winding wooden staircase of my apartment (which is yet again located on the 3ieme etage, 4 floor US). Yay.

Ok, back to studying for my second final (just had my first). Boo.

a proper update

mesdames et messieurs...

i am officially the worst procrastinator...I have two insanely beyond insane finals tomorrow, and of course, i am writing on this blog : )

i do not think this feels real yet. do you know, i have wanted to come to Paris since before i even began learning French? then, i desired to come because of the idealized image i read about in books, the Paris of the past, the Paris who is at once both denigrated and envied across the world.

now, Paris is still a symbol for me, a symbol of a culture that is intensely complex and fascinating, the symbol of France, a country that I love the ideal of and that I believe I will come to love the actuality of.

i can understand why Parisians are so proud of this city, to the point of snobbery and superiority. they have every reason to. even the dog droppings in this city lend it an atmosphere that makes me quiver. A city like this should not even exist, but Paris does.

This actual Paris seems still unreal, as if I've been plucked from reality and thrown into a dream. The only moments that feel real are when I open my mouth at the boulangerie-patisserie to order a sandwich...

I am almost afraid to breathe here, oddly. On the subway, I hold my breath, I am afraid that if I exhale, the subway will dissolve around me, and I will find myself back in Cambridge.

I have not yet encountered the Parisian "meanness" that some speak about, except perhaps the chastising of the metro ticket-seller for not having adequate change. Or any sketchiness.

I met a quintessential little old man at the entrance of my apartment building today, and he was so adorable (I know I am risking stereotypes by reducing him to a symbol). What really got to me was when he remarked, "Vous etes belle, mademoiselle," which in America would be construed as a perhaps inappropriate, sketchy comment, but for me represents what is so lovely about France. The French appreciate women of all ages.

Who knows, perhaps I'm still seeing Paris through rosy glasses, and I will surely have complaints in a few days or weeks, but I'm already trying to find ways to stay here for the summer...

and yes, the bread is incredibly good. i cannot wait till i have time to actually cook and not have to live off of sandwiches and prepackaged pasta.

vous me manquez.

j'suis à Paris!

safe and relatively happy...and struggling with the different French keyboard where keys are located in new positions...so i'm not writing much, just so everyone knows I am safe. More updates after my finals next week!

Bonjour tout le monde!

Or shall I say, au revoir tout le monde et bonjour Paris!

And so it begins...