I am happy to be able to understand French and read/write/speak it not horribly, but I have never been a French language enthusiast, especially considering my horrific grades in the classes at UNC and my weekly crying spells as a stress outlet after I fail yet another French quiz. I am not really a school enthusiast either. A supporter, yes. An attendee, yes, always. But I can't say that school is really "my thing." I don't enjoy highlighting my notes, I don't enjoy studying verb tenses and making flashcards. It doesn't fulfill me. And, CCF, frankly your class time makes it difficult for me to do many of the things here in Paris that I would like to. So, between you being in French and, in fact, a class, I am tired of going to you every day and now that I have experienced the realization that no matter what, French will never ever be the language in which I write poetry or a blog post or a series of autobiographical essays. I am an English-speaker, through and through. For this, I am grateful and also very very lucky.
So, France, I love you. I really do. But as of now if an old bartender wants to flirt with me in English when I order in French, and if the man selling the baguette corrects my pronunciation and then asks me how I'm liking visiting Paris, I will not be irritated. I will, in fact, be flattered that he is nice enough to ask and impressed that he is so capable in English! I have tried, I will continue to try, but French is not the language of T.S. Eliot or Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Spanish - a whole other can of worms!) or even of Hemingway (a Parisian nonetheless!), nor is it the mother tongue of Jesse Rice-Evans. It's alright.
Saw "La Boheme" at the Opera Bastille this evening. It was wonderful. They sang in Italian (help!!!) but the show had French subtitles which I largely understood. When we first got there it was very crowded and there was some sort of constant ringing in the lobby which was giving me a migraine, which wasn't helped by the vertigo induced by the unbelievable height of our seats nor of the dreaded "group excursion." I shudder. However, it was our next-to-last group excursion and I will be going to the final one drunk because otherwise I won't be able to sit through a dinner with a group of people who I will probably never see again in my life. Much more fun after a bit of whiskey.
Abby and I explored Rue Mouffetard and Rue Monge a bit before the Opera in accordance with my Lonely Planet guidebook (merci Alejandro!). Discovered a cute pub with the aforementioned old bartender where we ordered an Irish coffee (my new favorite winter drink) and a French coffee (like the former, but with cognac - yummm). Delish.
Came home to my family watching football, so I put in a load of laundry and joined them. Now I will be reheating my dinner from last night (sausage and tomato sauce with herbs de Provence with shells), which will be especially good since it is raining again and also very cold.
Been thinking a lot about Morocco and Amsterdam. So excited to see a snake charmer, some acrobats, and a veritable shitton of delicious Mediterranean food in Marrakesh! Still need a CS host, but have high hopes.
Love you all, hope things are well in the States. I am very happy.
A bientot!
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