L'arte. Les histoires. La vie.

Have you ever noticed that life, is art?
Paintings, are art; poetry, is art; architecture, is art; furniture, is art; fashion, is art; talking, is art.
People are art!
What is art, other than a story, after all, that is how art began. Not all stories are intentional, and often the most intimate histories are those told after the individual’s time. That seems to be the case because then their stories are not designed for an audience, but are instead told without their consent. Honesty is scary, so listen to what people do not realize that they are saying, if you are interested.

Learn stories, by opening your grandmother’s closet, visiting vintage stores, going to the Louvre to look at ancient Greek coins, or a Egyptian woman's mirror, that looks now like a reflective surface! A saved lock of hair, worn in a locket next to a picture, can more intimately connect you to an individual that you will never meet, than any artist’s calculated composition.

Some, typically less popular, art museums exhibit Chinese common bowls from the Ming Dynasty. Domestic objects, like these were habitually used, not unlike the ones that Americans regularly fill with Coco Pebbles!
Let that marinate, and get back to me.

People tell stories during and after their lives, and their histories take on countless forms. Art is traditionally studied through paintings and sculptures, but why stop there, because those can be just as deceptive as textbooks. “History is written by the winners,” ring any bells?

Art communicates, although its meanings vary, and are never definite. Even if an artist had a particular story in mind, it is not always true. Then again, what is truth, and who ever conceived of such a ridiculous concept? Can we ever “truly,” “know” a “fact”, because I believe that there is no such thing as certainty. Life is ambiguous, despite profound revelations and scientific discoveries, which are constantly “corrected,” by the way.

Art does not have to tell truths, however, if you start to examine art as histories, which we use for truths about the past, then art’s definition, and “purpose” get more complicated. Life is complicated, so art should be, as well, which leaves us at a good place, I suppose.

Art isn’t just about past stories, but it lives within the clothes, tv shows, cell phones, and even water bottles that surround us today.

When it comes to individuals, every one’s story is worth telling, regardless of its length. People are remarkable, and accomplish remarkable things. Diverse individuals make history rich, and worth learning, in the first place. It is all about the human connection, because we all want to feel linked in our humanity.

Families are universal because they contribute to our histories. Families’ differ, even within cultures, and individuals differ, within families. No two people ever have the same experience, in my sense of the word. An “experience” is in internalization of exterior variables, or basically, how individuals react to his or her surroundings. These reactions are another form of story-telling, or art, if you are patient enough to observe.

People tell stories in the most subtle, and unintentional ways. The outfit on the person, standing across from you in the metro is communicating. The way a person looks, or avoids looking; touches, or resists touching; speaks, or remains quiet, is insightful. You can really get to know a person, before they even utter a syllable, and in fact, the language barrier in Paris taught me to notice people. I cannot always understand what a stranger says, so I use alternative sources, like his or her body language. If you really think about it, half of the time that people talk, they are mostly filling up conversations with words. They might not be meaningless, however, they are arranged for your interpretation. When people do not know that you are looking, or learning, about them, that is when you begin to see who they really are, and not who they want to be. I am convinced that no individual is entirely content with himself or herself, and they are constantly “correcting” themselves for others. Conscious self-improvement can be wonderful, however, much it complicates how we understand people, and their stories; and therefore, how we understand art.

Life, or art, thrives on ambiguities, and being examined beyond generic definitions.

(My apologies, if you endured my entire philosophical enemy) = )

Vas-y! Go ahead!

I might have already touched on this subject, but it is so important that I will risk redundancy. The trend, so far, is that every new lesson that I learn in Paris surpasses all of those previous, which makes the latest no exception. For the past two months, I have progressively changed my habits to accommodate a Parisian lifestyle. The slightest alteration to my former routines seemed like radical gestures then, however now I realize how small my steps have been. “Small,” “incrementally,” or “gradually” are actually a wonderful adjectives that enabled me to come as far as I feel today. Ironically, I will look back at this moment in perhaps a week, or two, and similarly feel as if I had not even begun to loosen up yet! Regardless of what I may or may not believe in the future, right now, I am convinced that I am more flexible than I can ever recall being in the past. Then again, I imagine that I was a relatively laid-back infant, as long as I was fed, rested and loved. What an amazing lifestyle that must have been, by the way, although I tragically cannot recall a single detail! Let me re-orient myself, because I seem to have veered off course, so please excuse my nostalgic indulgence.
Sticking to the theme of indulgence, I have envied my friends and family members for the longest time, who are capable of literally taking-care of themselves! What does that mean, exactly, and how have I lived nearly 22 years without this basic survival instinct, well, believe me, it is possible! I am still alive, hence, I have sufficiently survived, and however, I would argue that I wasn’t always exactly living the entire time. Allow me to explain what I mean by “living,” because I now define the term slightly different. Life is not all about pleasure, of course, and yet, it is fundamentally tied to humanity! Put rather bluntly, why habitually deprive yourself of butter and refined sugar, when an occasional croissant aux chocolat will not harm you, and will only make you smile!?
“Selfishness”, despite its egotistical connotations, is fundamentally human, not to mention that it is not actually as evil as it sounds! You do not need a reason to stumble into a boulangerie with a friend because you are craving something sweet, nonetheless, you innately do, because you are a human, or are you not? I would argue that if you do not occasionally permit yourself minor “infractions” to your dietary regime, than you are skipping the “living” bit, typically associated with being a human being!
Food’s universality makes it an easy example to explain the mentality, which is incrementally replacing my formerly rigid one. Yes, there will be times for abstinence and deprivation, but the next occasion when you eye a dessert in a store window, think twice about exactly why you aren’t slowing down. It is possible that your rational stems from similarly self-denial tendencies that could use correction, as well. Besides, if you don’t start to appreciate yourself, then why with others ever follow suit?!

Mes experiences a Paris. My Experiences in Paris.

02/03/11

I am determined to take a positive lesson away from all of my experiences, from now on. There will be no regrets, after all, what is past, is past, so there is no point to dwell over what could or should have been done. Instead, I will learn about myself, and about other people through my mistakes, which will profit me in the future.

Since I arrived in Paris, I have encountered all sorts of interesting situations and people, from which I have only acquired a small pool of knowledge. Together, Paris and I have been a dangerous combination of a busy city, and one of those foreigners who is often in the middle of its mayhem. I have quite the collection of stories after only two months, most of which were not pleasant at the time, however amusing they seem in retrospect. I remember the time, for instance, when the lining of my nice leather boots tore, as I was trying on a dress in a Zara. It would have been unfortunately enough if I had only ruined my boot, but the fact that my heel was trapped inside the hole, which was strategically arranged so that I was unable to either remove or slip it, only added to the adventure. Who else can claim that they had the extraordinary opportunity to hop around a Zara in Paris during the soldes, trying to discreetly remove a boot, other than myself, I would like to know?

After much determination involving a pen and my finger, I dislodged my foot from my boot, only to discover that was only half of the night’s battle. Buying a pair of shoes in Zara seems simple enough, and yet, I have learned never to assume, particularly when I am alone in Paris. The painstaking process involved multiple trips, hobbling up and down the stairs with only one boot, realizing at one point that I had purchased two different size shoes, so it was actually a good thing that I had to wear them out of the store! My struggle to find a pair of shoes was only a slight set-back of the evening, and the final scene consisted of Hayley searching for the belt to her coat that had magically vanished during the shoe-related insanity. Needless to say, the Zara’s staff is most likely still entertaining its co-workers with stories about the silly American, who spent an hour wondering around the store with only one shoe! Just in case that was not enough entertainment for my fellow Parisians, I noticed a guy smirking at my feet on my walk home, which is when I realized the white Zara tag prominently hanging from my new black shoes. I still had at least ten blocks to go before I could crawl into my bed, but at least that terminated the day’s excitement, as far as I am concerned.

This particularly humiliating moment taught me a few things about myself, as well as shaped my new mindset not to expend so much negative energy over petty dilemmas. There was a friendly French couple and a pleasant dinner conversation to greet me when I returned home, so it felt silly to dwell further on my embarrassment. After all, it could have been much worse, and my shoe could have torn late at night on the metro, instead of in a store that sells shoes! I handled the situation relatively well, all things considered, and I eventually left the store unscathed, except for the few marks on my dignity, but nothing irreversible. Plus, now I have a comical story to tell at the next awkward mingling party that I find myself dragged to by family or friends!

Hold tight for more of Hayley’s Parisian adventures because the list goes on..

L'etrangere. The foreigner.

Another important aspect of living in a foreign country is fully immersing oneself in the culture. Your own cultural habits will only slow you down, if you stubbornly cling to them as a foreigner. The funny thing is that cultural habits are often so subtle that it can take awhile to realize that they are the reason why living continues to be frustrating, in addition to why you continually feel so foreign. When you really think about it, you feel like you fit into a place when your habits generally resemble those of the people around you, and when they easily fit into your daily routine. For instance, in Paris it is not common to bring your own lunch, even to your university, while Americans pack their lunches all the time! Yes, it is possible to make a sandwich at home and bring it with you in a container, but it is not the French thing to do, and therefore, it is a pain in the ass to do here!
To an American, it seems like a perfectly healthy and economically sound alternative to the crap that is available at most cafes, but things in France are different! It is possible to go to McDonalds, and yet, a Big Mac is not exactly on the typical Parisian’s menu. In fact, the popular “fast food” in Paris consists of a fresh baguette and a few slices of ham, and cheese, or eggs, lettuce and tomatoes for a couple euro! Basically, it only makes sense to abandon your American compulsion to pack a lunch, and to embrace the delicious sandwiches that are prepared for you by your local boulangerie! Your uniquely Parisian lunch will bring a smile to your face after only one bite, and you will realize why the French choose this option, instead! Now, you don’t have to fuss in the kitchen, or bring a bigger bag to carry your lunch, and you spend more time walking around the city to find the perfect sandwich! Plus, you don’t feel so strange, as if you are doing something wrong by not acting French in France.
You will never be French, regardless, but if you really want to learn more about another culture, then you must learn how they live by following suit. Eat what they eat, speak what they speak, and do what they do, to better understand why they think and act so differently. That does not mean that you should completely abandon your own traditions, but there is something to be said for actually getting the full experience in another country. You can always go back to your country and easily return to your former habits, but will you want to after a few months, that is the question. If you never try to adapt to another way of life, then how will you ever know which lifestyle works best for you? Culture is important to its members in order to feel a sense of belonging and comfort, and is that not what most individuals inevitably seek, after all? Maybe you have “belonged” to the wrong culture for your entire life, and you are about to discover one that feels more homey than you could ever imagine! Maybe you will eventually return to your origins, but not until after you better understand a different culture, and you learn exactly why you appreciate your own!
That also does not mean that as an individual, you should not be bizarre, weird, or different, but merely that you should consider the things that distinguish you from others. Don’t be weird by obstinately packing your own lunch just because it is what you are used, especially if it only results in unnecessary frustrations! Choose to be weird because of your passions, and or, because your quirks truly set you apart from the ordinary person! =)

Les mots. Words.

One of my most important lessons that I have learned since being a foreigner has been the importance of feeling appreciated. When you arrive in a new country, without any previous ties or relations, it is essential that you make every effort to find some good friends. For some people, it is difficult to admit that they need other people, but that is what makes us human beings. The reason why even the earliest homo sapiens formed civilizations is the same motivation for why we continue to do so today, and the same goes for close relationships. Perhaps the specific incentives vary, and yet, the fundamental concept is that humans thrive on contact with one another. What is the point of knowledge, material goods, or even life, if there is no one to share it with, or whose envy contributes to its value? It is a basic concept that similarly explains why individuals feel lonely, and or seek the companionship of others, because otherwise life has no value. Humans require acceptance from others in the shape of families, friends, lovers, neighbors and co-workers, whether they acknowledge this dependence, or not.
The challenge that I struggled to understand for years is why should one consider it a weakness to need other people, especially since it is part of our nature!? It is not strange or embarrassing to show others that you love or appreciate them, and to desire similar actions in return. You only harm yourself more in the end, by continually isolating yourself out of comfort and fear of being hurt. I have noticed an annoying pattern that the most challenging obstacles in life are the ones that are the most worth pursuing, because they render the most rewarding outcomes.
Another key, is that you can still be independent, while enjoying companionship from others. When it comes to personal relationships, for example, there is a difference between being an independent person, who occasionally enjoys solitude and piece of mind, as opposed to completely distancing others. I have yet to meet such an individual, who is truly content in his or her social seclusion, despite his or her insistence. Besides, the act of bragging about one’s independence is ironic, is it not, after all? If a person were truly un-reliant on the esteem of others, then they would have no need to convince others of their own stability.
The third and often most challenging aspect of relationships is learning how to show others that you care about them, which is a gradual and intimidating process. In my opinion, the first, and probably the most terrifying step, is to be open about your feelings, as well as to be willing to listen to those of others. This is particularly frightening because in the beginning, you have no idea whether the person will accept or reject your feelings, however, you will never learn which individuals are worth sharing your thoughts with, unless you make the effort. Once you have exchanged your sentiments, there is the equally important matter of supporting your words with actions. Even I will admit that words alone do not sufficiently convey certain sentiments, and that there is nothing more powerful than a good hug! Simple gestures like affectionately touching the shoulder of a friend, or even acts as daring as holding hands, say more than any well-intentioned phrase or a well-written letter.
Lately, I found that the more information that my friends have about me, and that I learn about them, then the stronger our relationship becomes. I also realized how amazing and insightful hugs or body language are, and how you will only profit by requesting hugs from friends. In fact, you will instinctively recognize subtle signs of reciprocal affection, or the lack there of, which only physical contact conveys. If you want my advice, then say more when it comes to reservations about yourself, and say less and hug more, when it comes to showing others how you feel about them.

Paris, je t'aime!

Paris has stolen my heart and sole, and that is the only explanation for my recent failure to blog! It is disappointing to myself, as well, but Paris is like a drug and I am officially addicted. I won’t be able to enjoy it for long, which is why I am already reluctantly watching the days float away on the Seine. I feel as If I cannot breathe in enough of the delicious aroma emanating from the boulangeries on each and every street corner, or appreciate the taste of French cheese and baguette enough to fully pay homage its well-earned recognition, and yet, I am suddenly obsessed with Paris and its amazing treasures, as I fall victim to its irresistible seduction!

I am beginning to realize, however, that as much as Paris is a uniquely remarkable city, I cannot attribute all of my recent happiness to the specific location itself. It is true that my taste buds are constantly tingling for more of the most basic Parisian meal of a baguette with a few slices of tomato, lettuce and cheese, and my heart constantly leaps each time that I have a successful conversation in French, while it is equally true, that I am increasingly discovering the warmth behind the typical Parisian’s initial scowl or judgmental look, which is more of a cultural effect than the result of bad temperaments. Then again, I am convinced that the fundamental reason why I am constantly high on life here is Paris revolves around the sole factor that I am no longer in America! Like I alluded to above, the particular Parisian culture is enticing, however it is not actually croissants and stylish pedestrians that are keeping me awake with excitement at night. In fact, at least two-thirds of my enlightenment, if I dare to even compare my sentiments to such a spiritual revelation, is due to my utter dislocation from my previous culture and lifestyle for nearly 22 years! The simple reality that my American routines have been replaced by not necessarily better, but different habits sufficiently liberates me from my former self-destructive tendencies.

At home, it is easy to obsess over silly concerns, and attempt to over-control familiar situations that do not constantly bombard me from unsuspecting faces and languages. Here, it is different because I am living as an exchange student in France for the first time, and therefore, I never really know how to manage, and or even approach situations. I immediately learned that any effort to control a strange circumstance, which I do not even fully understand, is an amusing idea, instead of a possibility. While I am most likely not smiling while I misuse the word for “condoms” in French, it almost always makes a wonderful story after it has been sorted out and or, it is in the past. In the very least, after every time that I have felt lost, frustrated, or generally confused in Paris, I learn something valuable about either myself, or about another perspective on life. Paris has taught me to relax and to enjoy my confusion, so far, because after all, why are the adjectives “chaotic” and or “messy” readily associated with negative thoughts? Uncertainly, fear, loneliness, vulnerability - are all essential to life, and make truth, rapture, love, and strength so uniquely rewarding, and worth stumbling around in the dark to find. Every other day I smile, frown, laugh, cry, fall, or soar and as a result, I am doing what humans were meant to do – I am living – but not just anywhere, because I am living in Paris!

Brain Fart. Pet de l'esprit.

Why are human emotions so irritating and so uncontrollable sometimes? Since I arrived in Paris I have focused almost all of my energy on maintaining positive and not letting myself giving up. If I am lost and don’t know which direction that I should be heading towards, then I am the only person at that moment, who can figure it out! I suppose that I could give up, but then what would I do, freeze to death? I suppose that I could decorate an alley for the rest of my stay here in Paris, but I imagine that alternative would quickly loose its appeal, as it gets progressively darker outside, not to even mention hunger and or fatigue. I’m sure that I would never cease to be entertained, however, because there is always an interesting person, place, and or scene unfolding in the streets here. Plus, I can rely on the constant inner-workings of my brain to amuse me, and which have become more and more problematic with the language barrier.

When it comes to my English to French translation difficulties, I suffer from an unusual urge to fill every space with my own thoughts, and I have little, if any control over subject matter and frequency. I consequently begin a new thought before I can fully translate my last, and it drives me insane, as I spastically utter clauses, without the correct and corresponding phrases. It can apparently be amusing to watch, and yet it continues to frustrate me, as I genuinely desire, but fail to communicate to my unsuspecting audience with this unusual spectacle! Lets add it to the list of oddities and reasons why it tends to be so difficult for me to socialize with other humans, who aren’t used to my insanity. Family is more inclined to accept and or tolerate one another’s lets say, more “quirky” habits such as this, while friends have the liberty to choose whom they deem friends, and whom they simply ignore. That alone has been another valuable lesson, which has taught me the true value of friends and what qualities to look for in an individual, before I add his or her number to my French cell phone.

This tangent, by the way, is the perfect example of my inability to complete one thought before another, and equally important one comes screaming from behind, and demanding my immediate attention. So you see, that I am constantly fighting multiple battles when I try to speak French, and often times I am exhausted before I have even uttered a phrase in “Franglish”, really, because its not quite French, at the moment! My comprehension has drastically improved, though, which is useful and boosts my comfort level enough to continue my pathetic efforts to actually speak French!

Back to what I was writing before, finally, about remaining positive in my everyday mentally, as well as physically strenuous struggles to adjust to life in Paris. The positive attitude comes with the territory, I believe, because if I have to do something, anyway then I might as well pretend that it is fun, or at least that it will be okay. So far, it has always been okay, and I am usually surprised by how much more than okay it turns out to be! This being the case, then I have continued with my positive attitude because I believe that it yields marvelous results, as opposed to being negative all the time. If I choose to be negative, then I am wasting my time here in Paris, because then none of my efforts, thus far, would have been worth it! Trust me, there have been overwhelming efforts on my part, and many more where that came from, which is all the more reason to stick to my mentality. After all, being happy is more fun than being sad, wouldn’t you agree? But I must say, enthusiasm uses more mental energy than just being sad and pathetic, which takes little to no effort, at all! All you have to do is go outside and encounter a disgruntled pedestrian cut you off in the street, or get in traffic on your way home from work, and in minutes, you too can be angry, and or frustrated! I try to examine exactly why I feel so enraged, though, when a shopkeeper is unpleasant, or when I generally observe people being unkind to one another in public. Usually, I concentrate on the reality that it is pointless to get upset, after all, the situation is over, while my remaining anger only punishes myself, and not the person who I feel like deserves repercussions! The same goes for being lost and or unable to communicate, so I take a breath and relax, go for a walk, if necessary, and suddenly the haze begins to clear, and I am left feeling refreshed and ready with my flashlight.

All of the work is worth the effort, in the end, and I would rather be exhausted, but happy, then perhaps a little more energetic, and grumpy!

partager. to share.

I apologize that I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth, but I have an excuse because I have been busy learning. Over the past few days that I haven’t been blogging, I have learned so much about Paris, my French university, Paris, myself, and about life, in general! So much has happened, in fact, that it is difficult to explain all of the minute details, but basically I have learned that I love to share.

“Sharing” is the perfect word, it seems, to describe what I love to do, and also, what I want to do for the rest of my life! I will change that to “what I will do,” however, because I remember that another thing that I learned was that from now on, it is “I will” and “I can,” instead of “I will try” and that even “I want” is questionable! You have to make things happen yourself, and there is no time to sit around and desire or dream, otherwise it will be too late!

Back to sharing, I choose this word carefully because I am constantly asked as a student, “what do you want to do,” or sometimes worse, “What do you like to do?” As simple as these questions seem, they are extremely important in deciding major life choice, consequently, my answers matter. One of the reasons why I am studying abroad is because I did not have satisfying answers to these questions, because I was searching with specific and exclusive nouns and verbs! The key is that the answer should not limit you, but actually open you up to new possibilities! I haven’t wanted to say, “I love to write,” or “to read,” or even “to cook,” because all of those things are so definitive, and I do not want to be confined to one subject or topic of conversation. My struggle has been finding the right response, or perhaps, the best response that I can imagine, which, at the moment, happens to be, “to share.” The inspiration came to me in bed, when I was failing miserably to fall asleep thinking about all five hundred things that have happened to me just in the past few hours, let alone days! It works for now because it describes why I love to write, to read, and to cook, in addition to a majority of my interests. More and more, I am discovering that in a generally sense, I love to describe things in my own words, and equally as important, to hear others describe things in their terms, as well. Every new perspective enables me to understand myself and those around me, and it makes life that much more enjoyable! This ties into reading and writing, obviously, because I can do the explaining and the listening, but less directly to my other hobbies like cooking. As far as cooking is concerned, eating is another wonderful opportunity to have wonderful conversations, or “to share,” with friends and family, plus delicious food is involved, so what is not to love!?

For a brief digression, and to better explain my lengthy absence from the computer, I was severely ill from a weather-related epidemic, spreading in Paris. It sounds worse than it was, but at the same time it was miserable, and I was in bed for at least 17 hours straight. If you know me at all, then you know that means that I was, in fact, violently ill, because I never sleep in past 9:30AM! It was mostly mucus, gross, and most likely T.M.I.* but the truth, nonetheless, and I believe that I have coughed, blown, and or spit away most of the vile substance by now. It is dreadfully cold out still, and I have to be careful because it is easy to get distracted and to not pay attention to your body, telling you that you are tired, sick, and or generally in need of rest. Who has time to rest in Paris, right!? Three weeks passed with me continually ignoring all of these signals because I was high on life in Paris, and or over-whelmed by all the tasks that I needed to accomplish, and so I easily avoided taking care of myself, which is never the best solution! Now, I have had to begrudgingly slow things down a few notches, hence the lack of blog entries, and the similarly time-consuming activities, and yet I have been able to enjoy things that I haven’t thus far taken advantage of here in Paris. Life is all about balance and that one cannot achieve every single goal at once, and that some things take time and patience. Time, particularly, is more valuable than money ever will be, and therefore, if you must worry about anything, then worry about not having time, and not about being penniless, because after all, money is only an object that determines an object’s value, in the first place! What is a valuable possession if you don’t use it while you have it in front of you?!

*too much information

Faites-le! Do it!

Friday morning I woke up with a sore throat and a bit of a cough so I took it slow in the morning and then left for the international students lunch at ICP!* I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to go, because I didn’t know anyone else who was going, and it was 30 degrees outside! I made myself get out of the apartment, however, because it was already eleven and I was wasting a day in Paris! Plus, why wouldn’t I go to a free lunch, after all, and I had nothing else to do! I was disappointed at first, because it wasn’t a free lunch, but a casual gathering in the cafeteria for international and French students to “se melanger,” or to mix, instead. It was nice though, because I spoke with two French students for an hour, which not only made me feel great about my French, but also because they were nice and gave me inside information about life in Paris and at ICP! We exchanged names and numbers, so hopefully I will meet up with them again. They genuinely seemed interested to speak with me and willingly to see me again in the future, but even if they were just being friendly, it made me feel more confident! Now I am determined to make some French friends while I am here, or at least to engage them in conversation!

I think that the most important result from my chat with the local students was learning that some French students have the patience to speak with non-native speakers, and that it is possible for me to make French friends! Suddenly I am just excited to be here, and to be learning so much every day, regardless of whether I step foot in a classroom! It is entirely possible that I fail this semester, and yet I will never regret this experience! Even if I must donate a kidney to pay off another semester to graduate, and or to come back to France in the future, I will! In my opinion, nothing is more important than perspective, and in only three weeks, I feel like a more open and a more adventurous Hayley. Yes, I still over-analyze situations and worry about insignificant details, and yet, I have become more confident in myself, and equally as important, in other people, than I have ever been. I can almost say that I intuitively feel “c’est la vie,” echoing from within, and that, less and less, it is a contrived phrase that I numbly repeat. I promise to abandon any “I will try’s” and “I hope’s,” because life is too short to sit around and think!

Would the Hayley that you knew in America be sitting by herself and drinking a cup of rum, water and sugar that her homestay mother in France made for her because her throat was sore?! No, she would be wondering how much sugar was in the tea, and about the rum to water ratio, and decide that she would rather not drink it! It is actually extremely delicious and my throat feels a thousand times better! I feel like I will pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow! The only thing keeping me awake is the wonderful feedback that I have received from all of my dear family and friends, who insist that they are enjoying my blog, and the fact that there is so much that I wish to share! The hardest part about being here is that only I am experiencing these new and wonderful opportunities!

I only hope that my cheesey, however absolutely genuine words inspires a reader to do something that they wouldn’t ordinarily do today, tomorrow, or maybe even every singe day from now on! I encourage at least one reader to eat the carrot cake that that they have been thinking about, but that some inner voice has been dissuading you from digesting the calories. Chances are that if you eat it, and promise yourself that you will not regret it, you will at least learn something valuable about yourself in the process. You are the only person that inevitably controls what and who you choose to be, and only you can make life the beautiful!

P.S. I think that I am a little intoxicated from the rum because I feel funny, and I can barely keep my eyes open! Plus, I am making all sorts of silly typos! Ten points for Hayley because this may be the first time that she has been tipsy, and it was a 60 + year old French woman’s fault! ; )

Bon soiree! =)



*ICP – L’intitut Catholique de Paris

C'est la vie! That's life!

I love how every day in Paris brings a new surprise, and right when you have a routine, your wall tumbles after one pebble shifts a cm to the left! Perhaps a "tumbling wall" is dramatic, however, little comforts are important in a foreign country. By now, I have accepted that my two-week intensive course with MICEFA is finished, and that now I am independently maneuvering my way through the French educational system, which hasn't been easy. My orientation was only slightly comforting because there are at least 40-60 other exchange students like myself, who are equally lost and confused by the French, laissez-faire course-registration process! The realization that my semester in Paris might not yield any AU credits towards my Literature or French studies seems more and more plausible, and yet there is little that I can do but keep returning to l’Institut Catholique. During each visit, I acquire another useful, but not complete, piece of information, and perhaps eventually things will begin to make sense! I will never complain again about the organized and American method, where you sign up for courses months in advance, because this is not good for my nerves! Here, one must truly live with the ideology, “C’est la vie,” because just repeating the phrase is not enough, without feeling its effects like the French!

I came home to another surprise after a long, and slightly discouraging day at my orientation to discover that there will be another exchange “student” living with my family! He is about my age but graduated early and has an internship nearby in Paris. I suppose that was what my homestay mother was explaining to me earlier in the week, but like many things that are said to me in French, I did not fully understand! So when the doorbell rang around 7:45 pm and a nosy, but nice, young man began poking around my bathroom and the room across from mine, I was a bit confused. I saw the wine on the table and that we were eating in the dinning room, so I knew that it was a special occasion, and not to be surprised with the results. He joined us for dinner, which was when I learned that he was looking at our apartment to live here for THIS semester, and not for period AFTER Hayley leaves! Oh, that will be different, I thought to myself!

When I moved in, I realized that I was spoiled for having my own bathroom, and a household without an army of children and shower traffic! Some of my friends have strict bathroom and kitchen use regulations, while I traipse from my shower in my towel whenever I please, but I suppose that will have to change! On a positive note, however, he seems friendly enough, and he might be good for me, because he engaged me in more French conversation at home. I am still hesitant to be too conversational during dinner, after all, I am shy about my French, but he makes some mistakes, as well, which makes me feel better about my constant mis-pronunciations and vocabulary brain-farts! His conviviality might have been more because we were getting to know one another, since after all, we will apparently be living in very close quarters dangerously soon! C’est la vie, I suppose, right?

I would also like to point out that this morning my homestay father greeted me with a cheery, “Bon journée,” as he glided past the kitchen in his PJ bottoms with no shirt. Later, he unsually announced his departure to me before he left for the day, so I felt honored! I am not yet sure if we are making progress, or if that is just because he is French, but either way, I was tickled because he seems to be getting more comfortable around me, as evidence of his surprising lack of attire this morning!

I am off to L’Institut Catholique again today for another perplexing day, filled with fellow exchange students with equally unsettled nerves, so wish me luck, and I will keep you informed of how this wrinkle in my living arrangement turns out!

Les Nageurs. Swimmers.

I finally went swimming this morning and it felt amazing to be in the water, again! I have only been once because the walk to the pool is dreary in the cold and rainy weather, but it was worth it to swim for an hour! At first I thought that the other swimmers would make the experience less enjoyable, but the constant splashes and traffic actually magnifies the pleasure of swimming for me. Each swimmer has his or her own agenda and about every few strokes, an impatient swimmers strokes you in an all too friendly way, but I feel connected to these half-naked strangers by our love of swimming. Plus, the tangled mess of bodies reminds me of high school swimming and I almost feel as if I am back on the team. The gentleman tapping on my toes is oblivious to the fact that I could not have a successful conversation in French, because we communicate with our bodies. You don’t need to study a language to know to move over when another person is about to run into you going the opposite direction!
I feel French for the first time, swimming in the local pool with my neighbors because we all look and act alike in our swimsuits, caps and goggles. It feels nice to know that the French at least swim like Americans, because all of their other habits are so different to those of the only culture that I have ever known. Of course I love learning that the French believe that it is absurd to use toilet paper to blow your nose, unlike Americans, who sit with a roll at their desk, and yet every now and then, I enjoy people who share my habits, as well. My ego also enjoys occasionally passing a French swimmer in his or her own country, after being pushed, shoved and looked at by Parisians for weeks! ; )
After the pool, I went back home and made myself some delicious poached eggs. I don’t know why, however there is something about the rich and vibrant quality of egg yolks that makes me feel like royalty! I haven’t had many chances to cook in Paris, and so it is a special treat to make something as simple as oatmeal! A warm bowl of oatmeal is particularly satisfying here because it is so not French, and I feel like I am cheating. Its strange how I find joy in solidarity, as well as in feeling different, and yet I think the key is the balance between the two, and feeling like I have some control over when I feel one or the other. There have been moments in Paris when no matter what I did, I felt lost and even worse, like everyone knew that I was foreign. When I think about it now, that seems silly because after all, I am only an American in Paris, which is far from strange, compared to my friends studying in more exotic locations in Morocco, India, and in Latin American countries. Then again, perspective is relative and I can’t help but feel like an alien when I can’t recharge my cell-phone minutes, although it is as easy as listening to an interactive voice message, and typing in a few numbers! I just have to remind myself to be patient and that foreign is foreign! Even if two culture’s differences aren’t so obvious in a the big picture, in reality, cultures are unique because of their simple and daily routines and how they vary in tiny, yet significant ways. I should be used to feeling bizarre, after all, because every time I visit Miami it feels less and less familiar, and more like a Latin American country! I am a minority when I order my mom a Cuban coffee at Ruben’s just a few blocks from my house, however it helps to know that I am in America and not a long plane-ride away.

Leave it! Laissez-le!

I don’t know what I would do without my Pilates mat in Paris. I know it sounds neurotic, but every day I need to empty my brain of the gunk, basically that acquires and threatens my sanity. After about thirty minutes, I can once again think clearly and remember that what ever happened is finished, and that it is time to move on. No embarrassing moment or anxiety should detract from the general splendor and beauty that I encounter every day in Paris.

I mention this because the academic aspect of this program has been marinating for a few weeks now, but finally it is really starting to register as the 31st approaches. I am excited to start classes, and yet I can’t help but doubt that I can sit amongst French students in a classroom and understand the teacher because, after all, I often feel lost in my English classes at home! Intellectuals, aka: teachers, tend to go on tangents and it is difficult to follow, even without the language barrier! I picked l’Institut Catholique de Paris, however because I have only heard wonderful things from MICEFA alumni who studied there, and I was impressed when I visited the school. Some part of me knows that it will be okay,after all, I remember when I was unsettled, to say the least, about arriving here and guess what, I’m not dead yet! By a sequence of bizarrely fortuitous circumstances, I have been in Paris for almost three weeks and I have few complaints. I suppose at first, there was so much to conceive of that would change as soon as I arrived that I could only digest a few, like meeting my family, passing the intensive two-week course (which I am not convinced that I accomplished), and feeling safe and comfortable in Paris. The most important step has without a doubt been feeling like I have a home here, and at least one or two people who care about me. My social life is still unstable, understandably, but more and more I have been meeting some wonderful people through MICEFA, who I look forward to spending more time with!

Anyway, that was a lengthy digression to explain that I am progressively settling here, although it is easy to slip and fall. This afternoon, for instance, I believed that I lost my only pair of Coach gloves when we were leaving the museum! I was genuinely upset because for the past few days, it has been so cold and wet outside that my hands go numb and they still ache at night, which has never happened before! I returned to the café, where my friend and I had earlier sought shelter before our scheduled museum visit, and clumsily asked the waiter if they had found a pair of gloves, or at least I tried. I was so ecstatic when he brought them to me that I easily gave him a kiss on the check when he asked! Moments like this remind me not to immediately give up because sometimes your fortune is not nearly as bad as you immediately assumed!

Like I mentioned before, though, there is so much to see in Paris that I am courageously able to continue my efforts to speak a language resembling French for one more day. This afternoon, I walked through Le Marais district, or the fourth arrondissement with my friends and they showed me the glorious department store that humbles IKEA called BHV! I couldn't believe that I bought a nice Samsonite backpack there for only 12.80 euro, because they are typically around 80 dollars! I needed a carry-on for Ryan air because the restrictions are absurdly tiny, and with the soldes everything is so inexpensive! I need to be careful though, that I don't easily spend myself into my own financial crisis, and that’s just considering the necessities like, my phone card, metro passes, and oh right, food!

Then it was time for lunch and I was allured by the familiar “Zaggat-rated” sign on the adorable hole-in-the-wall called, “Chez Marianne.” If it wasn’t the most delicious Mediterranean spread in Paris, then I need to see what is, and I was in culinary bliss! You can order “La Petite,” “La moyenne,” or “La grande,” and the amount of dishes that you get varies accordingly. I ordered the hummus, sautéed eggplant, artichoke salad, and some other pepper, olive oil, and spice glob of mushy goodness! They serve you freshly made bread to eat it with, of course, and all of the flavors blend together in an unforgettable dinning experience! Plus, the service and atmosphere was warm and friendly! After leaving we drooled past the regional Greek and or Jewish bakeries, where they prepare fresh pastries that would tempt any diet-eater from salads! If I hadn’t just finished the most satisfying meal since I had been in Paris, then I would have splurged on any of the giant and squishy delicacies with all sorts of spices, nuts, and butter, so you know that they are divine! Do not be disappointed because I will return with an empty stomach and high hopes! To its credit, Paris has rendered few disappointments so far!

Perservatives. Conservatives.

It is not just in Bread that the French don’t use preservatives. Almost everyday, Parisians buy baguettes for breakfast, lunch and dinner with their family, knowing that it won’t last long. The French wait in lines for their freshly baked loaves of bread from local boulangeries, while they won’t touch a three-day old baguette! Part of the joy of eating fresh bread is knowing that it will only taste this good if you eat it now. If you wait until the next day, than it is toast, quite literally, unless you defiantly muscle your way through it, pretending that it is not day-old bread. I am not going to lie, I have already done that a few times for practical reasons such as to save time and money. Then again, when I find myself eating icky bread because I do not want to spread another 2 euro or I don’t have the time to walk a block to the boulangerie, then I re-evaluate.

It is like the French know and they purposefully design the bread to only last a day or two, because that way, not only do you go out and buy the bread but then you truly enjoy it because you have earned it, and why not? First of all, you walked down the five flights of stairs and the three blocks to the store, and secondly because it is wonderful, and so are you! If you really think about it, our life doesn’t last much longer than the bread’s, so why waste it eating something miserable!? What do you really need the extra few euros for, anyway, to hoard in your bank account?
The catch is, then how do the French eat so much rich food and generally maintain healthy physiques, unlike, lets say, Americans? It is simple, in fact because it generates an entirely different mentality towards food based on respect. In France, you don’t obsess over how many calories are in the loaf of bread, or even label it as an indulgence. Even though it may be more calorically rich that a salad for dinner or lunch, it satisfies you and have no need to creep to the freezer for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s after dinner.

Perhaps it sounds strange, but the French take pride in their quality ingredients and quality lifestyles, so they do not take advantage of them. Every few days, Parisians take in the fresh air on their walk to their favorite baker and their small produce sellers to and from work, or on their daily stroll. They develop relationships with their food, almost like American’s regard their house pets. You love your loaf of bread and it loves you because you take care of one another. All you need to do is respect your meal and relish in its goodness, instead of guiltily inhaling it in front of the tv. No, French bread deserves a table and yes, even a plate. I will go even farther and demand that it has good company, as well. Chances are that if you have all of those things, then you won’t be counting the minutes until the meal is served, because you have been depriving yourself of calories all day! If you never deprive yourself and you respect your good taste, then you never feel the need to over-eat!

Of course, there are always celebrations, or even moments of extreme sadness, causing a French person to anger their stomach with excessive portions of sugar and butter, and yet, they don’t dwell over it the next day. Each day starts with a fresh baguette and you are redeemed for your sins, because, well they aren’t sins. You don’t think twice about buying the baguette today because you technically exceeded your calorie quota the day before! Why wouldn’t you buy they bread, are you Americans absurd!? You have been eating baguettes for your entire life, so why stop now!? Fine, you ate too much, but you are healthy and therefore, you have no complaints. Life is good because you let it be and you don’t let a process as natural as eating cause you any anxiety, after all, its just food!

Buy Buy bank account, hello warm clothes and good company! =)

Dearest readers,

Today was strange and I don't feel like I accomplished much! Days can slip past like bars of soap in the shower, if you aren't careful. I bought a wonderful sweater and a scarf because right now is the big "solde" is France and almost every store has sales. It is funny how regulated France is compared to the U.S., but only about certain things, like education, businesses, medical care, and electricity. Stores here are not allowed to hold sales except during the designated "sale periods" during the year, so right now it is just as bad as America's before and after Christmas rush! Usually clothes are expensive here but during soldes you can buy things for less than ten euros! It rocks but it is also dangerous because it all seems cheap, but it adds up! I needed a warm layer, though because it is so freaking cold right now and I didn't bring much with me. Then I met my friend for a cup of tea and ran to the market to buy food. Everything is closed on Sunday except for the markets, which are over by 2 PM and I didn't want to risk not having food!

People run on such a different schedule here that is one of the many things to get used to here. If I want to have a social life than I need to stay out later than I am used to at home. It is not so much that I am up later but the whole "being out," night life thing is different. It is so common here, however that the bar scene is much less shady than in the States, or at least from my experience. Plus, I love how you can get good wine anywhere! You don't even have to pay much or know anything about which wine to choose because they are all good!

I whimsically bought plane tickets for Carnival in Venice just now, without even knowing my class schedule. I won't have that information until at least January 31st and the weekend of the opening ceremony is the 19 of February! I can't wait that long to buy tickets so I took the plunge and bought them for Thursday night until Sunday, hoping that I don't end up having class on Fridays. I hear that it is supposed to be spectacular, though, but I honestly care more about seeing my friend Kosty! I haven't seen her in about three years and I miss her terribly. Plus, she made me feel so special because she genuinely wants me to come and visit her. Lately its been a game trying to tell if a person genuinely enjoys my company, and I want something real. I don't want to feel like a tag along or an unwanted guest, and she has never made me feel that way. I don't necessary feel that way here all the time but between living with a family with its own schedule and meeting all new friends in a strange place, trying so hard to fit gets old. I can't wait to give her a giant hug!

I am going to markets tomorrow, triple yay, so hopefully I will have some adventures to share later!

Ramblings about chairs and condoms.

Today was the final day of my intensive course and I feel a little lighter. Now I will be able to choose my schedule and not have to be in class five days a week for four hours in the rock-hard midget chairs!I never want to sit again, I type as I sit at the kitchen table, which you would have never known if I hadn't confessed. The irony was inevitable because it is impossible these days to protest sitting in chairs. I can see it now, you go to the bank to request a loan and the banker politely gestures you to a chair, but you decline. I don't think the conversation would go much further because the elephant in the room would grow so large that you would have to leave without your loan. It wouldn't be any better at a job interview and you would certainly couldn't go to the movies! What would you do in a car, stand up?! Perhaps you could lie down, but that wouldn't fly in Europe because everyone drives clown cars. I could think of numerous other situations where chair-sitting is necessary, and yet I believe that you get my point so I will move forward.

Oh, by the way, half of the fun of learning a language is realizing your social blunders! I learned in French class today that you never use the word "Madame" in French unless you are addressing a woman. Apparently, a "Madame" implies certain characteristics that I didn't have in mind when I was speaking about my homestay mother. Instead, I should speak about her in the third person as "la dame," because calling her a "Madame" is a much less respectful term directed towards less modest ladies. Another fun translation issue occurred when I was speaking to la Dame about the differences between French and American bread. I used the word "preservative" in French because it sounds like the English word for "preservative," but in fact, it is not the same word at all. I was looking for the word "conservative" and apparently the world that I used means "condom" in French. Oppsy doodles! I believe that I made her blush, nevertheless she eventually figured out my mistake and politely corrected me. Ha ha. Good times.I guess it could have been worse and I will not make that mistake again.

Well its Friday, and I can tell because my brain has leaked out onto the floor and there is nothing left to entertain you with today, folks. Sorry for the let down because there really is so much to say! I went to a theater piece tonight called, "Padam, Padam" and it was wonderful. Before the show I ate at my new favorite Chinese restaurant in Paris, "Happy Nouilles." It is so FREAKING cold here right now and that bowl of soup and warm noodles warmed my soul. In French, "dumplings" are "ravioles," which I find amusing because that makes me think of Cher Boyardee! These dumplings however, couldn't be further from the food-like substance from the familiar can of my childhood.

I apologize for the babbling tonight but the hamster is turning without results! I will get it checked out tomorrow, then again, maybe not because I can't even imagine going to a French doctor!

Au revoir! =)

Donnez-moi les oeufs! Give me eggs!

I know that I frequently talk about food, and yet it is such an appealing topic, so why not start there for today's entry?

Lately I feel like Madame has been reading my mind because another delicacy that I have been dreaming of since I arrived in Paris has been eggs! I love that the French eat eggs often, but not for breakfast, or course, because that would too closely resemble an American tradition. More and more I find that “American” means not “French”, and vice versa. I will not complain however because that is why studying abroad is so valuable!

When I opened my door this evening, I was struck by the familiar smell of caramelizing onions and my heart skipped a few beats! All that I needed to know is that there were onions and I was already sold! When I was called for dinner, I tried not to drool when I saw the crepes on the table! I have never had something so delicious in my life, or if I have it has been replaced! A simple crepe of onions, fromage, "lardons" (bacon), and an egg sunny side up seduced me at first bite! I love cooking dinner at home but it is magnificent to find heavenly surprise four nights a week at the dinner table that I would have probably never prepared for myself, and for which I didn't lift a finger. Many fingers were lifted, however, as soon as I sat at the table! Even though it means that it is almost the weekend, I am a little sad that after tomorrow I must wait until Monday to eat with them again! Yes, I am well aware of how strange that sounds, especially since I finish my intensive two-week class this week finally!

Now I hesitantly change the topic to academics, which seems a little less friendly these days. I was disappointed to learn that my current professor is leaving after Friday, and that she won't be teaching classes for MICEFA once the semester starts. She returns to her University in California, but I selfishly want her to stay. My teacher has become a friendly face, and like the Madame and Monsieur, I will never forget her. She taught us so much more than French grammar for the first two weeks since I arrived in Paris! Each day she welcomes me to Paris and French culture with open arms, and she has emotionally prepared me for what is to come. I do not know if I am ready for her to leave so soon! I feel like even knowing that she was staying in France would be better than if I knew that she was heading back to the United States. It is not like I wish that I was going back with her, but at the same time, I do not want her to leave. I guess that is one of the many steps in this program, however and I am just emotional because everything is so new here still.

I am starting to feel at home here and today I didn't even hesitate on my metro commute to class. I have to change lines three times and yet it only takes thirty minutes because the Paris metro system is that efficient! Normally I doubt myself or double-check just because I am anal and typically do the same with my alarm clock at night. This morning, however, I just knew not to worry. It made me feel fancy and almost French for a minute until I remembered that I still couldn’t understand casual conversations around me, which will complete my initiation into French culture. I will relish in this moment, nonetheless, because after next week I will once again be a lost pup in the city starting at a French University! No exclamatory remarks can possibly capture my horror at this thought so I will simply choose, “Holy moley,” and leave it at that! Baby steps, I figure, baby steps.

Wish me luck on my exam Friday, because I might not write again until after then!

J'ai mange une quiche pour diner! I had quiche for dinner!

18/1/11

Today was pretty magical because I went to the Musee D’Orsay after class! I find it amazing that I can stumble over to the Musee D’Orsay any time that I please, because it is so close. I have a student pass, as well, and I can get in for free to make it even more surreal! I went with some friends and only stayed for about an hour and a half because it was already 5 PM, and I unfortunately had work to do at home. I woke up feeling a little icky this morning and my nose is a bit congested at the moment, TMI, perhaps so I apologize, but I hate being sick. The only thing worse than being sick in general, is being sick in a foreign country! I am doing my best to not let that happen by thinking positive and healthy thoughts! More and more, I find that my mental attitude controls more than one could possibly imagine.
I also visited Catholic University today, but unfortunately the exchange student office was closed. I m almost positive that is where I will go and I find it extremely terrifying that classes start in two weeks! I am so NOT ready to go to French university classes and what was I thinking?! Part of me wishes that I just came here to live and not necessarily to study, but then again, I probably wouldn’t be learning nearly as much. I just wish that the grades didn’t matter because I can’t help but be concerned about maintaining my scholarship abroad. Oh, well. I feel the same every semester and it works out just fine! I’ll just pretend that I don’t happen to be in France and that things aren’t completely different this semester! Ha ha. The university is quite endearing, on a positive note, and there is a campus, however tiny, which is rare for Parisian schools. I will go back and take a tour soon because as a student at another University, I realize how much they can actually be quite informative.
Of course, D’Orsay was amazing and I barely had the time to glance through the exhibition, however I saw enough to inspire me and move me to almost tears. I forgot how much it meant to me to stand before Degas’ ballerinas and Toulouse’s whimsical sketches of Monmartre. Plus, now I can go to these cafes and bridges to see what Monet and Renoir saw years ago, and who knows, maybe I will even break out a sketchbook. I was watching an artist sketch in the museum today and it made me want to stop everything and sit beside him. It feels like it has been years since me fingers have applied oil pastels to paper, which seems less and less acceptable as I live here in Paris. The city is too beautiful to not try and capture it, and digital photos can only do so much. I can’t wait to go back to the museum because I was pretty tired when I got there after an entire day of class. Generally, I prefer to go fresh and ready to admire.
Strangely enough, I was eyeing a quiche in a store window on my way home, while wondering when I would eat my first one in Paris. It was almost too creepy when it was dinnertime and Madame had made a quiche, and a salmon and leek one, no less. Those are two of my favorite things in the world and it was delicious! It wasn’t only my first quiche in Paris, but it was also my first one made from scratch! Then we had a salad of just lettuce and some salad dressing that she had made with some oil, vinegar and some herbs, which was surprisingly outstanding! I love this multiple course ritual, by the way, and our final course was some remarkably ripe pineapple! I thought of Christian while I was eating, of course because it is his favorite!
Monsieur wasn’t back yet from his meeting in time for dinner, so it was just Madame and I for a change. It was nice because even though I enjoy Monsieur’s company, he is quiet and sometimes the silence feels heavy because Madame and I do most of the talking. I wish I knew what he was thinking, and yet it is hard enough for me to understand his thick accent when he actually speaks!

Les fruits et les legumes. Fruits and Vegetables.

I could spend the rest of my life here in Paris at markets. I swear. I can’t tell you how much fun I have watching the people- the vendors, the buyers, the tourists, the Parisians, the French from the country, and the other Europeans. That is just one aspect, however because then there is what they are selling, being endless and endless fresh produce of all shapes, sizes, smells and tastes! I can hardly help but pick the fruit right off the stands and taking a bit, then again I can because I feel like a vendor would literally attack me!

Going to the markets strangely doesn’t make me hungry, because everything is so beautiful that I almost forget that it is food and instead, it is art. The vibrant colors of the local apples grown without chemicals make those in American seem like children’s toys, and the taste, oh, the taste in indescribable. When you crunch on some fresh lettuce in your salad that you bought only hours before, it bites back. You can taste the plant’s antioxidants as you digest them and you feel stronger after just eating a tomato. It sounds ridiculous, and yet it is true, and in fact, not only does it taste better but it also is more fun to work with in the kitchen! Today I made a salad with my goodies and never before has an avocado invited me to eat it. This avocado basically cut itself, popped out its seed, and scooped itself out of the flesh, while I held it and watched. Normally avocados stubbornly resist preparation, and by the time you are finished with it, it looks like green mush. Not this time, however because the farmer probably just miles away picked the ripe fruit himself for me. Or at least that it what it felt like and I felt like the avocado was enjoying being eaten more than I was, if that is even possible!

I also bought eggs to hard-boil and was dazed in amazement as it as well, one eagerly undressed itself before me, and I didn’t even have to ask. Peeling a hard-boiled egg has never been more fun and I won’t even attempt to describe its deliciously buttery taste, or its brilliantly yellow yoke.

Tonight was the first night that I was left alone in the kitchen for long because Madame and Monsieur had a party that lasted all day. As much as I enjoyed the time alone in the kitchen tonight to make both lunch and dinner, I missed hearing Madame and Monsieur’s rustlings in the background. Around eleven in the morning they left for lunch and I was a little worried that they weren’t back by after 8 PM. I know that the French love to draw meals out into days, however I couldn’t help but fret when I noticed the time. After all, they are older, even though they are quite active and getting around Paris isn’t exactly a piece of cake. Taking the metro is more of a work out than most Americans get in a day, and even I will occasionally pant up the stairs! I was so relieved when they finally walked in the door around 8:30 that I contained myself from running up to the door. I almost feel like a puppy anxious for attention when it comes to Madame and Monsieur and I get excited every night for dinner. It has already been a week but they have me hooked. The French can be so adorable!

One battle after the next.

I couldn't possibly sum up today in a few paragraphs but I wish you were there. At the same time, it was important that you, who is reading this because you must be either family or a friend, were not there only because I needed to accomplish today alone. Well, not alone, but only with the resources that I have in Paris. To begin, I found a french pool and for an hour, the world stood still. It was amazing and I forgot how wonderful swimming can be. Like an addict,I can't wait until the next time that I go again.

Then, I did my laundry and I took photographic proof of how ridiculous French washing machines are! My cloths are still hanging and probably will be for awhile because French people don't use dryers! As much as I love how energy efficient the French are, I do miss certain American comforts like endless napkins at food places,simple but wasteful washing machines, going up and down dark stairways without fumbling for the light switches, and heaters that actually warm you up, to name just a few! Overall, I understand why they are so stingy about our natural resources, but unfortunately I am spoiled, and so it will take time to adjust.

I had to buy another "mobicarte "for my cell phone because apparently I cannot use the minutes that I already bought. I didn't know what to look for when I bought it and the numbers that I needed to call were rubbed out! What a waste of 25 Euros, which is quite a lot these days. Anyway, you live you learn. I found a Tobac to try again because this time I knew to make sure that I could read all 14 digits on the flimsy receipt. Yay. I figured how hard can it be to recharge your phone?! Right, well I couldn't understand the French voice options and I didn't even know which options to choose when I did, so I went back home to ask the Monsieur if he could help. When I got back I almost died because I put my key in a different place and I was warned that loosing your key is terrible in Paris because of the insurance companies! Basically, loosing a key costs thousands of Euros because they have to replace the lock, otherwise the insurance company for the house will not cover them if they get broken in to. I am not sure exactly how it works but regardless, I did not want to be "that girl!" Luckily, I found my key and clumsily asked for help in French. Of course, he had no idea how to do it but tried desperately for at least 40 minutes until he decided that there was something wrong with my phone. He told me to go to the store where I got it and ask them. IT was already pretty late in the afternoon so I had to hurry! Most stores close around 7 and aren't open Sundays or Mondays! Yikes! Another French thing to get used to! Great, Hayley gets to speak more french.

Luckily, when I got there the lady helped me and in about 3 seconds she figured it out. Wow! How many times have I felt like an idiot today, well it gets worse.

I finally was able to call my friends and find out what they were up to because I didn't want to be alone on a Saturday night. Of course, they were in one of the shadier districts to be in at night, Monmartre, but I was determined to meet them. It took awhile on the metro and I had to go to the bathroom, big surprise, but I eventually got to the metro stop and sneakily peed in the Mc Donalds, which is now my official bathroom hit-up spot. They are too big and generic to notice that you aren't a customer!

My friend said to take the bus to the top, which seemed easy enough until I realized that there were a ton and I had no idea which one! So I hopped on a bus that was jam -packed and it took me back where I had came from in the first place. IT took me about five minutes and I probably smacked thirty people trying to get off the bus, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to.
Now I had to walk further in the "red light district," where my natural instincts had already warned me that it was not the safest place for a young girl at night. I realized that the only way that I was going to get to the top was to walk, since there is an obvious incline and there was no obvious bus to take. I generally love walking, but once again, not the best neighborhood and tons of narrow, dark streets. I probably shouldn't be admitting to this, but I denied my instincts and made myself walk up, as long I felt comfortable and there were people and lights close by. I promise, however, that if there was not a man, wife and childlike group within eye-sight I would have stopped, but luckily I was able to follow people and stay in well-lit areas. I knew I was going the right way because I had been there before and there is a HUGE incline!At so many points I thought of just grabbing dinner by myself because it would be easier and I didn't even know if my friends were still there. That is what I feel like I would have done in the past, however, I am working on being more open to new things. Plus, I had already come so far and I felt safe. I was amongst a crowd of tourists and restaurants so I knew that I was as safe as I will ever be alone. No, I had to keep going, at least to the top. Like the public pool, the washing machine, and the cell phone, I would conquer Montmontre, and I did.

Finally I made it to the top and found my friends. The view was gorgeous and they were listening to a man singing a Jason Mraz song. It made me think of Julie and I felt like she was there with me.I am proud of myself because so many times I wanted to cry and give up, but I didn't. If I learn one thing in Paris it is that I am not stupid, even though I feel like it almost every other second here in Paris and that I am perfectly capable of handling any situation. I am coyote.

Le temps. Time.

I find it difficult to believe that tomorrow I will have been here a week! I am not certain yet if time is flying by or if it is going in slow motion. So much has happened in such a short period of days and I almost feel as if it has been years since I left home. I am already extremely more settled than just a few days ago, when I did not have a home or a school. Then again, it has already been a week and I feel like I just arrived yesterday!
Lately it seems as if I left time behind and, I am floating in a measureless space. Time has never felt more trivial because hours pass before I am ready and they don’t mean much at all. In Paris, I leave home around 8:30 AM and I often don’t return until 6 PM. At the end of each day I feel like time has stolen my day and I watch as its dust gathers in the distance. I rarely consult my watch because not a single minute seems long, including during my two-hour language courses and my metro commutes. As soon as one item is checked off the schedule, it is immediately replaced without hesitation, however it doesn’t feel obligatory, but instead, it is merely the next step. There are only answers and no questions with what to do with the hours each day. Occasionally unanticipated changes in the schedule occur due to exterior factors, and yet it matters not because the list continues. Even the mundane trip for contact solution is an adventure because I never know exactly where it will be sold or along with what other strange products. Paying at the cash register never fails to amuse me between the “handicap” lines at the Monoprix and the random “credit card only” lines, which I stumbled into accidentally. Plus, I never know what the cashier will say and I most likely will not know how to respond. The social blunder stories that I will have will amuse any dinner guest!
The only strict alarms that I follow refer to when I wake up for class and when I need to be home for dinner. If I have learned anything so far it is to adapt to my surroundings, for example, I have to be in class from 9:30 to 5:30 some days, and I have dinner with my family at 7:30. Anything else is subject to change because I must stick to those two constants. My alarm in the morning and my dinner at night are the beginning and end to my day and without them I would feel lost. Sometimes my alarm sounds too early and or dinnertime seems too late, but they remain regardless, and I simply get up and or wait. Going and waiting, waiting and going, that is what time is all about, these days. More going than waiting, then again, because even though I may be hungry or eager, the present is always filled with distractions. GO! to the store and buy tomatoes for your lunch tomorrow, GO! to the MICEFA office to sign up for your appointment, GO! to the store to buy your books, Go! to the metro because it is already 5:00 O’clock, and before I know it, it is almost 7:30! In Paris, I don’t hesitate to run to the store on a school day because firstly, I need and or want something, and secondly, because I am already out. In Paris, you are always “out” and you are never “in!” I don’t even feel “in” at home until it is after dinner and I am settled down for the night. Blocks, metro stops, and stairs are like air and they are easily over-looked. Unlike at home, I don’t ever feel rushed, except to get to class and to dinner on time, because nothing else needs to be done that day! There is so much to do and only so many hours in the day, and everything will eventually be done, but perhaps not today. Pas problem!
Things are different in Paris because I mostly enjoy every minute of every day and I get to wake up the next day and start all over again. Besides, whereas I don’t necessarily look forward to sleeping at night like I sometimes will in the states, with the exception of my jet-laggy days, of course, it is always a welcome friend. For the first time in my life, I am not just waiting for the next part of my day and instead, I go one step at a time so I savor each step. No matter what, I have a delicious surprise waiting for dinner and another exciting day in Paris to look forward too, so it seems foolish to complain.

le francais.

I wasn’t certain at first what it was that makes the French so fundamentally different from Americans but now I believe that it is confidence. They are not necessarily self-confident like we Americans think of the term, but they share a confidence in life. The French expression, “c’est la vie,” although cliché, is true in more ways than I had ever imagined. The concept of “positivity” comes to mind but that is not it exactly, either. A French person would not necessarily jump off a cliff sooner than an American would, and yet they wouldn’t be phased by the cliff and they would go around it, instead. On the other hand, an American would frantically consider leaping over the cliff because they would be so hesitant to veer off course. My personal anxiety, for instance, has lessened considerably since by being surrounded by a community that, if it does worry, it is infrequent and over something important. I understand that an unexpected cliff is a significant concern in any case, however it is how we define a “cliff” versus merely a gap between stepping-stones. That has been my experience, so far, regardless of the reality here in Paris. I do, however, believe that it is a fact that American society is generally more anxious than other nations and that fact alone is worth considering. Discussions of poor health and of chronic stress aren’t nearly as frequent as they are on the other side of the ocean, as far as I am concerned and I am eager to know why.
Philosophical moment aside, I had another lovely day wandering in Paris. The French confidence that I was referring to earlier rubbed off on me this morning for my oral exam to determine my language level, and I actually enjoyed talking to the teacher about my goals in Paris. Then I went to Notre Dame with some fellow students and was so happy to see blue skies and sun! I foolishly believed that I was saying goodbye to the sun when I left Miami, but Paris never fails to amaze me with little marvels like these. The dark interior of the cathedral concealed my teary reaction to its general beauty and the sound of the choir. Just being inside such a powerful place evokes feelings of hope, tinged with sadness that ordinarily lie beneath the surface. Notre Dame is just one of the many places where I can find quiet in Paris, and I am eager to discover more.

Le dimanche soir. Sunday Night.

If I didn’t already have the best mother in the entire world than I would have asked Madame to adopt me so that I could live with her in Paris! She continues to be warm and thoughtful, even though she has already housed multiple exchange students and I am just the next one! When I was introduced to the family it was funny because I could tell that they were used to quiet and random strangers at their family rendez-vous! Imagine, the only thing more awkward than the annual family gathering is having an exchange student, standing there and trying to be invisible, well, not exactly. I tried to talk with the family as much as possible, but hey, I just got here and they speak quickly and with colloquialisms! They were all friendly, however, and even the little children deigned to speak to the “tard” once! It was like a duty at some point for everyone to exchange a few brief sentences with me until my face was bright rouge and I just smiled. Occasionally they would feel so bad that they would say, “in English?” but to my credit, I only said what I absolutely couldn’t and continued in French.
It is funny how not understanding much dialogue at a social event creates a whole new experience! I tried to follow conversations and to ask questions if possible, but my general confusion enabled me to sit back a bit and to watch. I can only take in so much French at a time, after all, before my brain is overwhelmed and I can’t focus anymore. Classes at the university will be fun, won’t they? Oh, my, well let’s not even go there yet! A student hasn’t ever failed a semester abroad, have they? Ha Ha. Well, even if I do get straight D’s, I have already learned so much in less than a week to make it worth it! I am wondering when my positivity will wane however, because lately I have been uncharacteristically positive! “Lows” are inevitable in a change this extreme, so don’t be shocked if soon some of my entries lack “happy bunny” feelings in the future. For instance, when I gain five hundred pounds after days like today, where all I did was eat sugary foods!
Starting where I left off in my last entry, I was pleasantly surprised to be fed a delicious lunch, but I was once again confused when I saw Madame adding leaves to the dinner table. I thought it was strange that she prepared so many cakes for just the six of us, but now little surprises me! After our aperitifs of a marvelous champagne, our lunch of a roast with onions and warm prunes, I promise it was amazing, and haricots verts, the cheese and bread course, of course, AND the chocolate mousse cake, there was more! Oh, my goddess. I was also surprised that we were celebrating the Monsieur’s birthday, which is this Wednesday, I believe, in addition to the Catholic holiday with the traditional galette du rois! So many fetes, so little time! It really is a mystery that the French are generally thin when it seems that all they do is sit and eat! Okay, they do walk a lot and don’t use elevators!
A few hours after our lunch the doorbell rang and didn’t stop until the tiny French apartment was full of strangers, many of which were small children! It was a bit overwhelming, at first, but eventually I settled in and I had a nice time. She served us all a GIANT piece of the galette du rois, of course, and I ate it all because I couldn’t help myself. Dessert for dinner is not the worst way to end my first Sunday in Paris, I suppose.
I was not an entirely worthless interloper, actually, because one of the couples was asking for vacationing advice in Miami! Surprise, surprise. Their first time in the states and they pick Miami! Do I have to keep telling people that it is not exactly like CSI Miami down there or should I let them figure it out themselves? Not like I am the best travel guide but I recommended South Beach, original, I know, and I told them that Key West is mostly tourists and there is not much beach! It probably won’t matter to them because Europeans think anywhere near Miami is “it on a stick,” and they can’t get enough of the sun. The more time that I spend in chillier parts of the world, however I understand the fascination with a place that is always sunny and warm. I miss the sun, and yet Paris has plenty of other marvels in its place.
Although today was atypical for an American exchange student’s first Sunday in Paris, it was a very special evening that I would have otherwise never experienced without a homestay. To think that families like this open their home to students that they don’t even know, is remarkable and it makes you feel special to be a part of it. Even if Madame and Monsieur consider me just another friendly American from ACCENT, they will always be important to me as the family who introduced me to Paris, as well as to a perspective entirely different than my own. To anyone who has never done such a thing, I recommend stepping back from your life now and again, and trying to understand another perspective. Even if it is as simple as a democrat considering a republican’s opinions for once, or vice versa, it is worth the effort. It is tried and true that communities benefit from openness to new ideas, after all, so what harm could it do to listen?
I don’t mean to sound like Gandhi, however and I realize that tomorrow I will likely be grumping because of something that the French do and that I don’t understand. Once again, that is why it is so important to be aware of moments like these and to try to understand why we are so afraid of the unfamiliar. Different is usually not bad, it is just surprising, and more and more I find that surprises are often lovely, indeed!

Le Dimanche. Sunday.

Today was pretty magical.
If it didn’t happen to me, then I probably wouldn’t believe that I stumbled into a GIANT market this Sunday morning. Madame told me about a few of the Sunday markets but, like with everything that the French say to me, I only hear bits and pieces so I didn’t remember the names. This morning I wanted to go exploring, however I forgot that the French actually shut down on Sunday. Nothing was open so instead I decided to go to Père La chaise cimetiere, until I realized that I was expected back only hours later for a late lunch with the Madame, Monsieur and their three children. I wasn’t disappointed, just confused when I asked her what time I should be back and she said any time in between 12h30 and 1h. I know enough to understand that the French DO NOT eat dinner that early, ever! Restaurants aren't even open until 7 and even then it is early! I apparently misunderstood her the other day when she asked me if I would like to join them. I assumed that she meant dinner because the French do everything later, however I was mistaken! Pas problem, but I had to change my plans for the next few hours. I got on the metro and I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going, since it was already 11h! I whimsically got off a few stops later when I saw people, which is strange for a Sunday (apparently). It only took me a few steps after exiting the metro before I thought that I was imagining things, and that I was Julia Child in Paris!
Talk about surreal.
Wow.
Les Legumes, les Fruits, les viandes, et les produits fraiches for miles, or meters.
I tried to discretely take some photos but I didn’t want to disturb the sacred rhythm of the sellers and buyers, as they exchanged Euros for soon-to-be delicious and home-cooked meals! J’adore le francais because they take pride in their food and they always have their own bags! It was kind of like a bunch of Hayley's running around and planning their weekly meals. Okay, well not exactly but the closest that I will ever come to such a moment! Ha ha.
There was all sorts of strange things that I had never seen before, along with wonderfully familiar items, bringing smiles to my face, like the American “brownies.” The only reason that I didn’t buy everything that I saw was because I only have 10 E and a 50 E, and one learns early on that the French NEVER have change. By never, I mean never, and by change, I mean that they absolutely never have ANY change. There is an expectations that you will magically have the exact amount in your wallet, otherwise you would not buy it. It is not worth upsetting the seller with a large bill! Seriously!
The irony is that ATM only distributes 50 Euros and larger bills, which are practically useless anywhere other than the Monoprix, and even there they will give dirty looks! So were does the cycle of riding of large bills begin and how do the French ALWAYS HAVE THE EXACT AMOUNT, I wonder? Well, I suppose it is one of the endless mysteries in Paris, which I have yet to understand!
I must say, though, that Europeans actually USE their coins because they have VALUE, unlike in American, which I programmed to forget! After awhile, you get used to it and you learn to live without the coffee if you don’t have the 1 E 10! Ca c’est la vie!
My single bills humbled me to some freshly baked bread, some arugula, two tomatoes, and some hummus, which were all reasonably priced! The fact that I had to speak in French for items that I didn’t even know what to call, lessened my spendings, as well. It was neat, though and I plan to go return next Sunday, but then again, there are so many markets in Paris, and maybe I will look for another! When I got back it was time for lunch and the day's festivities began, much to my surprise, which is a story for another entry! Later I will write about my lovely afternoon and evening, which concluded my magical Sunday!
Tomorrow is my oral placement exam, and it will take three metro transfers to get there! I basically practiced for it all day with their family, not like it will really help my pathetic French much, anyway. Wish me good luck and look for more soon, I promise!
Au revoir! =)