musings

In high school, I thought of sexual orientation as a set of polar opposites: either one was homosexual or one was heterosexual-north pole and south pole. I've always been supportive of gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual and other sexual orientations--I'm the aberrant in my conservative family, thanks to my liberal American education. In any case, my concept of sexual orientation was rigid and inflexible, and I of course was doubtlessly heterosexual.

Once I came to college, however, I discovered that sexual orientation is not black or white, nor fixed and rigid. Sexual orientation is fluid, located on a wide spectrum. Because we each of us are so different, the composition of our sexual orientation is also individualistic. I have learned to think in relative terms--a homosexual person may have certain hetersexual tendencies and vice versa.

So the point of my post? Yesterday, Maylen and I were discussing this question of sexuality, and I thought of myself. I still think of myself as heterosexual, and I know I am very attracted to men (As my roommates will attest, *chuckles*). But how to explain my penchant for developing "crushes" on girls/women who I admire? Oh yes I've joked about these crushes, both on blog and in person, but in a sense, it's not really a joke...

There are some women that I could spend hours looking at, talking to and experiencing more than just a normal feeling of friendship for. It's not the sexual or romantic love that people of opposite sex have for each other--it's more a pure, platonic, nonsexual emotion based on respect and admiration. There was actually a NY Times article on this last fall, and I wish I'd kept it. It discussed how women do develop "crushes" on other women--it's not sexual, but a mutual attraction that is difficult to define by our prefabricated, rather stiff societal perceptions.

I have felt this "attraction" towards more than a few women-I can't explain it, but every semester, I have at least 1-2 girl crushes, as my roommates will also attest to. Like many people, I'm not at either end of the sexual orientation spectrum--extremes are never good in any case anyway.

It's funny, because I asked myself yesterday while talking to Maylen whether I would consider dating a woman. I think that would be such an interesting experience--certainly I wouldn't do it just for the novelty, but it's fascinating to think about. I definitely feel attracted physically to men, so I'm not sure that would ever work out.

So the purpose of this ramble was just for myself to realize how I've opened up in the realm of tolerating and considering sexual orientations. It's truly a complex and interesting topic.

If only there were as many men out there who were on par with the excellent women I know.

pictures

Regina, me, Monalisa, Saskia and who is that guy I have no idea? Drunk person.
















Regina and I















Regina and I, after I've had a screwdriver















Saskia, Frederique, Regina, me















Me





















International Dinner!

Maylen and Daniela
















The Dinner
















Regina and Carly















Carly, me, Regina, Anna, Maylen, Daniela














Arno, Stephane and I














Stephane, Arno, and I in the kitchen

Lack of Sleep

How am I still alive? *Dramatic gesture*

Saturday night was the Annual HEC (Ecole des Hautes Etudes Commerciales) Gala (HEC being the most elite and best business school in France), and I went along with Frederique, Monalisa, Saskia, Regina and some other girls from the CUPA program. The ball was held at the Hotel Westin, "Absolute luxe" as Monalisa put it. I must admit, although the music was techno and not very good at that, it was worth the 22E just to ogle the conglomeration of the most handsome men under one roof I have every seen in my entire life. Attired in sharp suits, and looking excessively goodlooking. Except...drunk men are the same everywhere, and it was not the exception, even with HEC students. I was accosted by a couple of drunken guys, one of whom attempted to kiss me on the mouth and whom I dodged sucessfully (thank goodness). The other, his friend, came up to me and said "You have the most beautiful eyes" upon which I laughed and rolled my eyes. Please. Don't believe anything a drunken man tells you. And then he proceeded to hit on me with alarming intensity. Drunk men should be only seen and not heard, the terribly stupid things they say! I did have a very good conversation with a master's level student named Nicolas, who studied at UPenn for 1 year as an undergrad, despite having to holler over loud music.

And once again, I managed to get tipsy off of one screwdriver (though the man was quite generous with the vodka)--after polishing off the glass in 1/2 hour, I was bouncing off the walls. Or rather, the dance floor. And the effects lasted for well over 1.5 hours. Oh what a lightweight I am!

The ball concluded at 4am, but there were no taxis to be found so we waited out in the cold until almost 5:30 for the metro. I fell into bed at around 6:30AM and crawled up at 10AM to clean the apartment for the dinner.

Anna and Maylen came over to cook their dishes with me--it was so wonderful to be able to be with friends and just cook...I could do it everyday happily! Although there was a little mishap with the stove for a bit, but my roommate Jen fixed it : )

I cooked two types of dumplings (pork and vegetarian), hot and sour soup, and stir fried lotus root. Regina cooked Korean style spicy tofu, Anna cooked rice pudding, Carly baked an apple crisp, Naomi brought an apple tart, Maylen made black beans and rice, and my roommate Alex made a divine pear, goat cheese, walnut and spinach salad!

Once again, it was all American girls and 2 French guys. Arnaud was there again (poor boy, the things I subject him to....), with Stephane, the French boy of Chinese descent who goes to Polytechnique whom I met awhile back. He and Arnaud went to the same class preparatoire.

It was so much fun! I hope my guests enjoyed the food as much as I enjoyed cooking it, but there wasn't too much left over, so I think so : ) I talked to Stephane for almost the entire time, actually I think I monopolized him : ) In any case, I surpised myself with how much we were able to communicate, despite my still rather small French vocabulary. We listened to music too, and the girls and I danced salsa, merengue and swing and hip hop.

And yes, there are pictures and yes even videos of me out there giving a lap dance to Regina, the beautiful birthday girl!!!!!!!! When we came out with the cake, she didn't even realize it was for her, the sweetheart...we had to point to her to indicate that it was to her we were singing "Happy Birthday"! So then I offered to give her a lap dance, to which she acquiesced...and oh lala, I blush with embarrassment to imagine what I looked like (well you can imagine...a lap dance, except I was actually wearing clothes!). It was all in good fun though and I think she enjoyed it (did you Regina???).

I hope the neighbors aren't too upset because of our lively dancing yesterday....it was incredibly fun, and I realized how much fun it is to have friends over!!!!!

mixed bag

it's rainy, cold, gray.

but I talked to my darling Felicia today, and that is the equivalent of making this accursed gray veil of a sky into a mass of blue blue and more blue!

Oh comme je suis "silly". Yesterday, I went to a bar and had a kir, which is kir (a type of fruit alcohol) mixed with white wine. Just a kir, in a regular sized wineglass. In fact, I drank just over 1/2 the kir in 1.5 hours...and promptly turned red as a beet. I started feeling giggly and funny, and oh gosh it was slightly embarrassing.

Classes started on Monday and I've been getting up at 6 or 7am every morning, because I need about 2 hours to get ready, go to the Sorbonne and find the enchanted rooms that have magical staircases a la Harry Potter...

So here's a crash course on the French education system, at least at the very traditional Sorbonne:

Courses are divided into two parts, the Cours Magistral (CM) and the Travaux Dirigés (TD). The CM is the equivalent of lecture and the TD, section. But not exactly.

The CM lasts for an hour or two every week and the TD, 2 hours. The CM is a fully fledged professor who usually reads directly from his/her notes in a rather dry voice (although I had one who used Powerpoint--this is a HUGE deal, because it's very daringly modern) for the entire time. Students rarely speak--everyone is busy taking pages and pages of notes. Questions not encouraged. The TD is on a different day, and a lecturer teaches it.

The first TD, the lecturer assigns oral exposés/commentaire composé to all the students. An oral exposé is a written critical analysis (chronological or thematic) of the article in question, lasting about 20 minutes. It is the core of the TD. Afterwards, the TD lecturer criticizes you in front of the class and goes on further about the article.


This little one signed up for an oral exposé in her Louis XIV TD in a fit of courageousness. Oh goodness.

Anyway, so I've met a few very nice students in my classes. What is strange is that of all the students I've made acquaintances with, none are Parisian. They're from Lyon, Bordeaux, Rouen, but no, not Paris. I even met a student named Juan from Valencia in Spain. I told him how I adore the Spanish accent and how I wanted to practice my Spanish! It's so rusty, alas!!!! Tengo que practicar mi espanol!!!!

Kate's Critical Decision

All right. I decided that I'll casually date men who smoke. BUT. Yes, there is always a BUT. They must wear delicious cologne/smell good.

It's so strange...but I pass strange men on the street, I do not know who they are, and at times, I do not even see their faces as they brush past me, hidden beneath their collars....and I catch a scent, a knee-wobbling, sense-tickling scent...and I feel the most delicious weakness swimming in my body...as though I might melt any second. It is so sensual, almost sexual, the attraction of scent.

In addition to the basics of intelligence, kindness, decent height, gentlemanliness, etc etc, here is my revised list of the qualities of the perfect bachelor:

Likes rambling walks in cemeteries (or at least isn't creeped out my penchant for cemeteries)
Does not smoke (may be replaced by the following quality)
Smells good
Enjoys long, meandering strolls
Likes people-watching (in a non stalker-ish manner)
Charmingly crooked smile
An enchanting pinch of boyishness mixed with a healthy dose of emotional maturity


Oh and I am so happy because I got an email from YAYA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PBHA has finally regurgitated my beloved roommate, if only temporarily!

And today has been such a happy day, for many reasons ; )

lazy

Me in front of the cutest car! It's shorter than me! Quelle surprise!
















les petites suisses--a charming, un-Paris collection of houses facing a courtyard in the heart of the Buttes-Aux-Cailles
















Yes, le Monde.















At the Sir Winston last Saturday with Naomi, Monalisa and Saskia. I swear, I only had less than half of a margarita. See how lovely Naomi looks? No glaring redness on her! And she had a whole drink!@#$!















It's not the blush, I swear. It's the tequila! Saskia, who kindly finished off my drink. Notice how she's not red???!#!#!

First 3 pictures courtesy of previous visit to the charming neighborhood of the Buttes-Aux-Cailles....

It's raining, oh raining in Paris. And slightly cold. I can't write too much now, because my computer is going to shut down in a few minutes. I obstinately refused to bring a cord because that would prolong my internet access.

I began class yesterday...I'll write about it later this week when my silly self has got her act together and decided on my schedule. But it looks like I'll be waking up at 6am at least once a week.

smoke and demonstrations

it's funny how one thing can pull everything together...and increase the amount of looks I get from strange men...and women...for me, it was the boots.

oh these boots. brown, slightly tinged with auburn, oval toed, heeled, pert, tight, Italian...perhaps it was the Italian-ness that gave it the delicate edge of sexiness...yes, it must have been. I had searched for weeks for the perfect boots, and these darlings just flaunted their come hither look at me as soon as I caught glimpse of them in the window...and without knowing what I was doing, I bought them.

in other words, I think I was checked out by a woman the other day...as I was getting off the metro (sans these boots), a pretty young woman with short cropped hair began staring at me, with a look, a certain flirtatious smile on her lips. For a brief moment, our eyes locked, and I smiled back. Afterwards, I looked behind me to see if she had perhaps been looking at a man. No man. Only me. Or perhaps I flatter myself. But it was one of those moments. Yes, those moments.

Today, Regina and I went to the Sorbonne to verify our schedules. The Sorbonne, being a public university, evidently does not have enough funds/willing people to post the class schedules on the internet, so they are tacked to a small bulletin board at the door of each department. A single typed paper. For the thousands and thousands of students to look at. This is one of the byproducts of the French socialist education system--free, but only excellent and up to modern convinience for those in the Grandes Ecoles. Don't get me started on the Grandes Ecoles and public university system here. You think Harvard and Yale are elite...oh you don't know elite until you've heard about the Grandes Ecoles--they trump any Ivy League university.

Anyway, so we met up with Mathieu (who studies at Ecole Normale Superieur...Normale Sup for short), so he could give us a tour of the environs, because Regina told me that he knew the Sorbonne well. Apparently, he didn't, but it was all right--we embarked on a grand Harry Potter adventure full of vanishing auditoriums, changing staircases and a labyrinth of impossible-to-find classrooms. It took us an hour to find only 2 of the million auditoriums we needed to find.

I need to familiarize myself with a classroom, to, in the pop-culture spiritual sense, "get the vibes" from a place, so I'll have to return. Anyway, so I asked Mathieu how to say that in French...and so mignon! One uses the verb "apprivoiser" which means "to tame". Donc, je dois apprivoiser les salles de mes cours!

Afterwards, we encountered the embryonic stages of a demonstration in front of the Sorbonne, where Mathieu ran into one of his friends from lycee, Jean-Baptiste. Let me go on about this name, please. I am in love with this name, Jean-Baptiste, ever since I saw the movie "Indochine" featuring Catherine Deneuve, wherein the main male character was a stunningly handsome man named Jean-Baptiste (played by Vincent Perez). Ever since then, I've associated the name with male beauty and sex appeal. in any case, Mathieu's friend was not Vincent Perez, but he was very sweet and nice, and charming in the intellectual way that is better than sexiness in any case. We went into the nearest cafe and talked for awhile. The cafe waitress, Mathieu and Jean-Baptiste were entertained by the incredulity of Regina and I as we wondered over "chocolat froid" (cold chocolate) and "lait aromatise" (scented/flavored milk). Les Americaines, I am sure they were smiling in their head. Mathieu's Coca Cola arrived in an old fashioned glass bottle with a darling slice of lemon floating in the cup! And Regina's "cold chocolate" arrived in a small bottle too!

I cannot believe Mathieu and Jean-Baptiste put up with Regina and I, our French. We don't speak it badly, but we were definitely not very fluent, and struggled for words at times, but they were so nice (or perhaps they were smiling inside, but were too nice to say anything). We talked about politics (or rather the liberalism of Harvard and Yale students), and Cheney's shooting of his hunting buddy, and how no one in France reads Camus and Sartre anymore (but oh, that's ALL WE EVER READ IN FRENCH! IN HIGH SCHOOL AND UNIVERSITY! I'm surprised I haven't thrown up regurgitated existentialism), and how to say bad words in French, and the nuances of how to say the different types of marijuana.

Speaking of which, I had NO idea that marijuana comes in two types! One in the form of leaves, and the other, in the form of blocks which look like chocolate bars. But then again, I am the girl who when she smelled pot for the first time, thought it was popcorn. Anyway, so the pot (called "cannabis" or "l'herbe") that is in block form is called le shit (shit pronounced the French manner, like sheet).

You see what I learn?? Very unorthodox. But I know how to say broken heart in French ("Coeur brisé") in French. Hopefully, I won't have to use it any time soon : )

Oh and here's a personal ad for your perusal (If you or anyone you know matches the requirements, contact me asap

)20 year old female looking for companion who loves long winding walks in cemetaries and reading tombstones. Preferably male, but a genuine appreciation of cemetaries is required.

Photos

Kate, Cedric and Arno















Front: Kumiko, Lauren, Daniela, Kate, Regina
Middle: Maylen, Monalisa, Naomi, Laurel
Back: Carly, Cedric, Arno















Maylen, Saskia, Monalisa, Kate, Lauren, Naomi

I forgot to mention the little soiree at my apartment last Friday! It was so enjoyable playing hostess to the lovely ladies and 2 gentlemen who came. Obsessive compulsive as I am, I bought 6 types of bottle water, sparkling and regular....and everyone ended up drinking the wine that my guests brought--between the dozen of us, we consumed about 5 bottles of wine and only 1 bottle of water : )

I felt slightly bad for the boys, as there were only 2 French boys and oh lala, so many American girls. But nevertheless, we made quite a lively party--Maylen taught us to dance salsa, and Daniela taught us merengue. I hope my neighbors weren't too upset at our liveliness : )

And goodness, did Cedrid and Arno smoke! Since I wouldn't stand smoking in the living room, they opened the window in the kitchen and smoked there for awhile. Daniela and I joined them there, and we had a pleasant talk, except for the smoke!!! Cedric rolled his own cigarettes and taught Daniela how to properly smoke one...and I must admit here (!) that I was curious, so I took a drag. It was, as I expected, not to my taste.

I really like the girls who came--among the many others in my program (I shan't deign to comment on them), they are the most friendly, down-to-earth and amiable! Also, Monalisa and her sister Saskia, and Monalisa's Japanese friend Kumiko, were all so sweet. And of course, darling Naomi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Thought

I don't think I could bring myself to seriously date someone who smoked, much less comport myself intimately...smoking is a key turn off for me...which rules out about 99% of the male population in Paris! Helas, c'est triste, mais je retiens mes principes! Ladies, never lower your standards when it comes to men...you'll fall into a one way chute....and hit gritty cement. Ah non, jamais! It's not just a cultural thing--I understand that French men smoke, yes, French women smoke a great deal too. I don't mind having friends who smoke, it's a personal choice that may affect me, but I cannot narrow my friendships by that. But for a relationship with a man, I cannot stomach kisses of smoke, I shan't go back on that!

Parfait

Je pleure pour Narcisse, mais je ne m’étais jamais aperçu que Narcisse était beau. Je pleure pour Narcisse parce que, chaque fois qu’il se penchait sur mes rives, je pouvais voir, au fond de ses yeux, le reflet de ma propre beauté.

Regardez-vous, ces mots. Il n’y a rien à dire.

This feeling, as when I read the first page of Lolita, returned for only the second time these three years, when I read the prologue to L'Alchimiste of Paulo Coelho.

The wonder, the almost magical realization of perfection in prose and image.

I could not stop rereading and repeating this passage all throughout my metro ride to the CUPA office. Some middle school students were staring at me, in my ecstatic literary trance, probably wondering why the hell this crazy Asian girl was talking to herself.

belle.

It's Valentine's Day, having come and half gone without me realizing it. The part of me that has become cynical regards V-day as a silly, commercialized holiday, another excuse for companies to wring more money from the ever-spending, ever-expanding American population. Chocolates, roses, cards, champagne, strawberries...clichés of love that have lost the cachet of romanticism because now you can buy sugar free Russell Stover's chocolate, genetically modified unimpossibly fat roses at Costco, frilly pastel cards at Hallmark, pseudo faded yellow wine masquerading as Champagne and abnormally red, out-of-season strawberries at any random grocery store.

Ah, how cynical, how cynical. Where has your romanticism gone, oh Kate?

I respond: "It exists, stronger than ever, burning low, intense within the thickly padded chamber that is my heart."

You see?

I continue to believe in the perfect love. Perfect, as perfect as Nabokov's prose. As perfect as Sandor Marai's Embers. As perfect as Narcissus' insolent beauty, no more, because it is as beautiful without the insolence.

Museum

I'd always thought myself competent at finding my way, map or not--the natural sense of direction I presumed I inherited from my mother...

Or not, as I walked in circles yesterday, chasing after the wisps of my own coat in front of me...attempting to reach Notre Dame de Paris, that grand cathedral I could see right in front of me, but just could never reach. Sometimes, I feel that it is a metaphor for my own life--I am always looking for something I cannot quite grasp, chasing after my own foolish illusions.

I did finally reach Notre Dame...

Yesterday afternoon was spent at the Musée d'Orsay (Free of charge, thanks to the CUPA student card on which is proclaimed my status as a bona fide art history student). It's such an odd, slightly stomach-turning feeling to see paintings that I've only perused in books, that I know of simply because they are "famous." I wish I had the education to appreciate the paintings for more than the superficial pleasure they give me. I wish I could express in words the feelings, the fitful shivers that certain paintings give me...

Such as this:
















This painting, titled "Comtesse de Keller" (artist Alexandre Cabanel), is the cover of one of my favorite books, "Embers" by Sandor Marai. His elegant, spare prose is like none other I have read, and the painting, representing the character Krisztina, is perfectly reflective of the sombre, shadowed prose.



This post is turning out to be somewhat dark, nostalgic and sad.

There is all this incredible, beautiful lake of culture here, and I feel as though I have done nothing I have learned nothing, to allow me to appreciate everything here. Yes, I know of Proust, of Voltaire, I've read Sartre and Baudelaire and Camus and I've seen the paintings of Manet, Monet...but these really don't mean anything because I really haven't "got" them...haven't understood them and thus I cannot truly appreciate them.

For me, if I could have all the time in the world and not care a whit about anything else...I would retreat to a little house by the sea with a garden...and just read, read, read...forever.

a moment

to acknowledge my former advisor and most deeply esteemed professor at Harvard, Professor of Psychology Philip Stone.

Tina sent me an article that informed me of his passing away last Friday, and I am in deep shock, and sadness. While I do not wish to depress everyone, I feel like I must acknowledge the role of a professor who I admired most profoundly.

I took Professor Stone's freshman seminar, and it was my first close contact with a Harvard professor. I was timid, nervous, and more than a bit intimidated by his vast knowledge, experience and intellect. Yet this sweet, unassuming professor made every effort to get to know me, to know my thoughts, to understand my background. He asked me many questions, initiated more discussions with me than I did with him. He interested himself in my family, my studies, my personal life, and my feelings. He embodied everything that I had hoped to find in a Harvard professor, and never ever displayed any of the arrogance, superiority and inaccessibility that some other professors displayed.

It was knowing him that even allowed me to consider psychology as a major, because I had had such a delightful experience being in his class...without him, I do not think I would be a psychology concentrator, at all.

I remember the time he looked at my freshman ID picture, then at me, and remarked humorously, "My goodness, that doesn't look like you at all! I wouldn't have recognized you."

I remember the time I ran into him on the street, and he gave me an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek.

I remember the time I had dinner with him and his lady friend in Annenberg, an almost unreal experience--I was having dinner with a world famous professor and his lady friend!!!!!

I remember the time he took me to dinner at a Chinese restaurant, ordered Tsingtao beer for himself, and, when I began having the hiccups, conspiratorially whispered, "Well, I could get fired for doing this, but do you want a sip of my beer?"

I will miss him so much...I had written him an email just 2 weeks ago telling him I was going to Paris, and he had written back, "best of luck"....

I will miss him very very much indeed......


Thank you.

Les chateaux de la Loire

side facade of Chenonceau, chateau of Diane de Poitiers and Catherine de Medici, mistress and queen of King Henri II, respectively. No, they did not share the chateau. It was originally given as a gift to Diane by Henri, and after his death, Catherine "exchanged" another chateau to obtain Chenonceau from Diane (basically ousting her from the lovely chateau).




















One of the most well-known portraits of Louis XIV.




















Chambre of Diane de Poitiers















The kitchen! Note the profusion of copper pots hanging on the walls. I could die of envy.















Chateau de Clos Luce, last residence of Leonardo da Vinci, one of the greatest geniuses of our human history.















Chateau Azay-le-Rideau, built by rich financier Gilles Berthelot at the height of favor (though he later fell out of that royal favor, and hence the chateau is not complete).





















Chateau Langeais, dating from the Middle Ages, built by Louis IX. The politically key marriage of Anne de Bretagne and Charles VIII was held here (there is a pic of a slightly creepy wax model reenactment that I decided not to post.)


This weekend, the students on the CUPA program (I included, of course!) went to visit a few of the magnificent Chateaux de la Loire, what I like to call the "valley of the Kings" a la Ancient Egypt except there are no tombs, only chateaus.

It was terribly terribly cold, and I, poor fool that I am, did not think of to bring my long wool coat. Despite the leggings I wore under my jeans, my pauvre derriere spent most of the weekend half frozen.

How can I begin to describe the chateaux? I cannot, words are too trite. It is not the apparence of the chateaux, as they begin to meld together after you've seen a few...but the history behind them. Each chateau is a living microcosm of history, culture, of intrigue, of rise and fall.

At Chenonceau, you must close your eyes and tread along the path that Diane de Poitiers walked.

At Azay-le-Rideau, you must imagine the arrogant wealth of its creator, of his immense pride in his own fortune.

At Langeais, you must let yourself feel the excitement and furtiveness of a secret marriage that changed the history of France forever.

Only thus can you truly appreciate each chateau...


It is feeling these emotions, living history through closed eyes and imagination before the artifact of historical memory...that is so beautiful.

I could see myself in Paris, in the future. Everything I love, admire, and would like to become is here. Every day, I notice things that make me smile to myself--the elegant poems written on the subway, the lean intellectuals who peruse Marx and Proust, propping themselves precariously on the doors of the metro. The little child, red cheeked, staring solemnly at you staring curiously at him. The chic older woman clicking her heels rapidly against the cobblestone as she dashes into a boutique. The affectionate husband who bickers at his wife to avoid the dangerous side of the sidewalk. The straw shopping baskets filled to the brim with peeping turnip leaves, dill and pots of rillettes. The white haired man humming a patriotic song.

Oh the love of books, the love of study, of perusal, of intellectualism, of discretion and manners and understatements and hidden meanings.


The pride of Parisians in this city that is beyond comparison and beyond extraordinary.

I am on the precipice of becoming a flaming, incurable Francophile.

Perfect

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."-Fydor Dostoevsky

Unabashedly lifted from Ilisia's facebook profile

This is a perfect quote. This is what I believe to be so very true, what makes a day mysteriously wonderful, beautiful--the chance encounter with someone, someone who perhaps you shall never see again, perhaps someone who will be a part of your life--

no words, only eyes, a look. beautiful, ephemeral...

Soiree, oh soiree

Yesterday night was quite an *interesting* night, shall I say?

Monalisa and Frederique, who are the interns at CUPA, organized a lovely soiree in the program office. Monalisa, who is quite sweet and funny, whispered to me beforehand that there would be "several boys from the very good schools" as she has unofficially appointed herself my matchmaker...go figure : )

Insert note on French university system: After you graduate from lycee (equivalent of high school), you either directly matriculate into the University of Paris system after taking a test, or you do two years of preparatory courses to prepare you to take the test to enter the Grandes Ecoles, which are the most elite institutions in France. Very very few people pass the entrance test, the rate is in the low single digits, about 3% for Ecole Polytechnique, the most prestigious and selective school. And keep in mind this is 3% of people who have gone thru prepa, and are already very talented.

I met this third year student from Ecole Normale Superieur who apparently was a TF at Harvard last year, and knows my French TFs.

I also met this very sweet, very nice and terribly good looking boy from Ecole Polytechnique, and I actually managed to speak French to him for almost two hours. I cannot believe I sustained a conversation with my questionable French for that long. It was such an enjoyable evening, and I really really enjoyed meeting the students, who were mostly very nice (although there were some who were dreadful!). I would really like to meet more French students...It's funny because former study abroad students said that it's hard to make French student friends, but a few French students told me they felt like it was easier to make French student friends than American student friends. Although I will now definitely stay in touch with the students I met, they are all quite friendly.

Afterwards, I went to this rather famous bar, called Buddha bar near les Invalides (Madonna likes to frequent it), with some students from Yale, who knew JiaJia Liu, who is a Harvard grad, who also happens to be DJ Lee's special other. I think this was the first and perhaps last time I will pay 10 Euros for a glass of juice. The ambience was quite something though--artistically sombre, dark, with flickering, amber lights. In the middle of the tastefully vaguely eastern decor was a gigantic buddha (hence the name) who sat beatifically overlooking the rather crowded bar/restaurant, bathed in a very soft, burnished glow. Very shrine-like. I wonder how they managed to move the buddha in.

Anywho, I went to the Sorbonne today and looked up my class times. Here is my probable schedule:

La France de Louis XIV

Histoire de l'art XIX-XXe siecles--La Peinture en France de David a Courbet

Choose 2 of:
Histoire de l'art du monde occidental contemporain: Initiation a l'art contemporain de l'impressionisme a l'expressionisme

Histoire de la Construction Europeene

Histoire sociale et culturelle

Histoire de la Revolution et de l'Empire de l'Europe a 'lepoque napoleonienne 1799-1815


Yes, I am taking all history and art history courses. I am incredibly excited for my history courses, because I adore French history, well history in general, but really French history (aside from Chinese history and English history, my other favorites!). I've never taken an art history class, and am much looking forward to that as well! I am SO happy to be taking non Core non Psych classes!

Bien, I have to do my homework (Write an intro, detailed outline and conclusion, French dissertation style).

Bisous!