It's getting along to the point in the program where we start to realize that our final program date is rapidly approaching. The two-week mark of classes has been reached, finals have been brought up in every one of our courses, and final papers, presentations, and verb conjugations are looming. It's a weird feeling because my trip has about 6 weeks left, in which I will travel to another continent and then yet another! And while my excursions peek their little heads over the horizon, there are all of these "lasts" to take care of before anything will come of them. It is, of course, the case that at the very end of our time here we would discover the places where we feel the most at home, or at least welcomed. Other than sangria bar Le Dix, there has not been a spot that I have discovered that made me want to return again and again until this weekend when I, with some help and some wonderful companions, found Oberkampf, home of all of the sought-after dive bars and pseudo-sketchy artist neighborhoods where people have non-career jobs and almost everyone is in an ironic band.
Saturday Abby and I hosted a guest, Abby's much-loved roommate from Elon, Thea, visiting from Brighton (right?). We Louvre'd, got caught in the rain, walked under the Eiffel Tower, got sangria at Le Dix, took the metro to Oberkampf and explored, had Tibetan dinner (a new staple, though I can't help but think that I can cook rice better than that), and explored some more. The best time to discover a new bar isn't necessarily on a Saturday night at 23h30, but you might as well try. We found lots of people that spoke English or, my favorite, Franglais, and more even who complimented my septum ring or asked me for a rolling paper...or three, accompanied by a wink. Got drunk-ish, went home and hung out with Mathieu etc., watched Dexter until 4am, fell asleep until the next afternoon. Got up, made tomato salad, Skyped, watched French films for class, emailed (my boots are on their way!; have a host for Morocco!; hopefully will be able to convince that Comm professor to let me into his poetry performance class!).
Kicked some analytical ass in cinema on Monday (finally!) and did a bit of research for my next paper on queer French film since the 1980s, read 100 pages of "The Sportswriter" while eating clementines and listening to electronic music, did well on some French stuff. Then Abby and I bought wine and cheese and baguette and sat near the Park That Always Smells Like Weed near Notre Dame and ate it. Only got harassed once, this time by a cross-eyed fellow eating pistachios and carrying a box of Heineken. We've decided that next time that someone feels the need to stop us to creep on us, we will act like escaped mental patients until they get creeped out and leave. Works for me. Then met Caroline for a Shakespeare & Co reading, some eyeing of English-speaking boys (though my list of single girlfriends is diminishing rapidly), had some wine and then headed off to Oberkampf for another night of drinking beer and not cooking wine.
Got a pitcher at Pop-In, a cool 2-story boothed music venue (pop and "alternative," whatever that means) and chatted for a while until Caroline's two boy friends came to join us. Generally had a wonderful time, and even found a French girl's makeup purse under the table which we perused curiously.
On the way home on Line 9 (my new favorite late-night transit option) I listened to my iPod (LCD Soundsystem) and then after disembarking at Croix de Chavaux I unexpectedly started to cry, realizing that my profound knowledge of the Paris Metro at this point will be largely useless in a couple of months. I really love it here and while I miss home and my friends, it's been a wonderful several (though far too few) weeks. My god damn family being reason #1 on a long list of reasons Paris is fantastic.
A social norm note: My host father has long since asked me to call him by his first name, and therefore to switch from the "vous" form (the more formal French subject) to the "tu" form (subsequently, less formal). My host mother has not said this to me. And I, shockingly unpresumptuously, have not started to call her "tu" regardless, but continue with "Madame." This can be awkward when speaking to my host dad in a group, because I call him Joel and then as soon as Marie asks me a question I have to switch to "vous" and call her Madame. It's hard, and confusing.
Been doing a lot of watching of Lady Gaga music videos, such as "Bad Romace," "Poker Face," and "Just Dance," which has almost 87 million views! She's really something else. What's her deal? And what does she say about us as a youth culture in how we feel about her? If you're curious, I hear Drew Millard has the answers. I, personally, think it's genius. She went to Julliard for Christ's sake. The reason I like her is the same reason I like Kanye West. Pop music rules all.
Got a letter from 1870s France this morning and was very happy about that as well. The final walking tour of the semester is tomorrow, thank the lord. In the meantime, watch Miley Cyrus's "Party in the U.S.A." video and tell me it doesn't make you smile, at least from mirth and irony.
A bientot!
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