Monday I didn’t do much. We had our Civ final and paper due Tuesday, plus a presentation in our Comm class, so everyone was in study mode. We had a group study session in the basement again, but there were fewer people and it had a more serious air about it. We were too panicked for fun, sorting through the millions of hand outs our professor had given us, trying to find something that would help answer one of the questions on the study guide. When Francheska finally started banging her pen on the table and yelling, “All these papers and none of them are USEFUL!” we decided we needed a break. I left shortly after that to start my paper and finish up my presentation, but I still wasn’t feeling very knowledgeable.

My friends were still downstairs in the garden when I went up to my room. I stuck my head out the window to say hi to them and then Iley told me to throw her something. I started throwing pennies out the window, which was probably a really stupid idea, but you know, we’re just silly college kids. It’s less dangerous and stupid than some other things we could be up to. After a penny hit Iley’s arm at the speed of gravity, we decided to switch to Miel Pops. She actually caught one or two.

In Paris, the way we choose to amuse ourselves is by throwing cereal out the window. Go figure.

Tuesday morning we had our second and last field trip for the Civ class. We went to the Opera Garnier and it was amazing. It was just breathtakingly beautiful. I took pictures but they didn’t come out great. With the flash, everything comes out dark, but without the flash, everything comes out blurry. But trust me, it was beautiful and decadent, but somehow not overwhelmingly so. I could picture the men in somber suits and the women in elegant dresses, there more for the society than for the music. I loved the ceiling in the theatre the best. It was done by Chigal and it’s so great, it contrasts fantastically with the traditional style of the rest of the building. The best part is it’s actually painted on canvas and attached to the ceiling, so if Paris decides that it’s ugly and silly one day, they can take it down and the old original painting will be underneath, perfectly intact.

The test Tuesday afternoon was stressful but I don’t think it went awful. I had about the same feeling about it afterwards as I did on the first test, and I got an A on that. I was confident with the section on identifying art but I had a little more trouble answering the concept questions. We’ll see how it turns out.

Afterwards we all went to our favorite crepe and panini place, and then we… shoot what did we do?? We did something, I thought, but maybe not. Maybe we just came back and chilled. I think that is what we did. Well anyways around 9 Matt came and knocked on my door to see what we were doing. I knocked on Steph’s door and she didn’t answer. Then I tried Kristen’s, and she didn’t answer either. I was walking down the hall to try Iley’s door when I heard Darby and Stephanie DuKok talking. I stuck my head in and asked if they knew what was going on. They said there was a basement party at 9 and that we were heading to the Bastille at 10. Stephanie was already wearing her cute clothes and it was already 9, so I ran upstairs to start changing. While I was trying to decide what to wear, Kristen knocked on my door and told me that plans had changed: we were going to get ready all together in Iley’s room and then head out directly after.

Getting ready was my FAVORITE part of the evening. We all brought outfits for consideration, discussed, and made decisions. Everyone was helping out everyone, lending make up and shoes and brushes. Spratt was even giving his opinion, a rare thing for a boy to do. It was hot out, and humid on top of that, so everyone was wearing something light and flirty. Kristen did my make up in deep bronzes that made my eyes look super blue, and everyone complimented my black shirt with a crocheted back. Iley let me borrow her flats, and they were fairly comfortable. It was perfect.

We headed down to the Bastille on the metro, arriving at about 11. We followed Francheska, who had been in the area on a date before. We wandered down a random side street and found a quiet little bar with cheap drinks and a nice bartender. I was having fun, enjoying the fact that we had taken over the back of the bar. But everyone else was apparently getting ansy. I will stay anywhere if I can buy a beer for 5 Euro, but apparently everyone else wants music and atmosphere. All I need is my friends. So anyways we left and found somewhere else, somewhere more trendy and much more expensive. Stephanie DeKok and I tried to go back to our little quiet spot, but it was either closed or we couldn’t find it, so we settled in. It wasn’t so bad, it was just a little boring. For some reason, nothing has ever been as fun as it was on Kristen’s birthday.

We got home late, deciding on taxis instead of the night bus. It’s difficult to figure out the schedule and the right place to wait if you don’t have a local with you, and taxis aren’t so expensive when they are split four ways. Plus the night bus drops you off at Porte d’Orleans and then we have to walk a little ways in the middle of the night, which I don’t really like, even if there are a ton of us and boys with us.

This morning I slept in til 11, feeling exhausted from several days with little sleep. I only woke up at 11 because Kristen came and knocked on my door with some juicy gossip. We talked for a while and then she left so I could shower.

It’s hot out now. My room faces East I guess so the sun pours in every morning and makes the room bake. The showers only have one temperature – BOILING – so I tried to make it as quick as possible. I wore shorts around Paris for the first time today as well.

I grabbed breakfast with Francheska at La Maison, and then we went to class. It was the usual. And then after class, like clockwork, we went to the panini place. They know us now, and the guy always smiles when I ask for my sandwich “sans tomate”.

After lunch we headed back to the Pere Lachaise cemetery, on a mission to see the graves we’d missed. Even with Iley’s little guide book we got lost, and since it was hot out, we decided to forgo some of the graves – Chopin, for example – and head straight to Oscar Wilde after Jim Morison. We found Delacroix on the way.

At Oscar Wilde’s grave I dissolved into childish excitement. Malika had brought BRIGHT red lipstick with her and she lent it to me. I gave my camera to Kristin who took pictures of me putting on the lipstick and kissing the grave. It felt like magic somehow, and when I was done, for some reason, the tiniest little tear leaked out of my eye. I wasn’t even really sad. I guess I was just happy. The pictures are some of my favorite pictures from the whole trip.

Iley and a bunch of other people went to the Pompidou center, but I decided to stay home. I hate modern art and it’s awfully hot outside. Plus I’m exhausted. I think I’m gonna try my best to turn in early tonight.

Les Soldes, the yearly summer sales in Paris, started today. It’s like the biggest deal EVER here. Most of the stores are offering 15 – 50 % off on EVERYTHING. All the Parisians go nuts, because this is their chance to stock up on this season’s best clothes for cheap, and they are all about fashion here. My friends and I are planning on getting up early tomorrow to shop. I feel a little bit guilty about spending more money but I shall justify this by saying that

A)   It is LES SOLDES. It’s like a huge big deal that only happens in Paris and only for three weeks.

B)   It is discounted.

C)   It’s hotter than anything here and there’s no A/C and all I have is clothes that look good layered and with jeans.

D)   It’s Les Soldes. And I’m in Paris. Dang it.

Pictures are here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/TheOpera 

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/NightOutPlusPereLachaise

So, anyways, we left Chartre and fell asleep on the bus again. We woke up at a weird European rest station. There was a big bounce house out front for little kids, and inside the rest station itself there were the usual bathrooms and vending machines, but no souvenir stop, and very few options for lunch. We all decided on a cafeteria style place. I was starving so I took an appetizer (the lady said it was tabuleh? It tasted like couscous with vegetables and Italian dressing, very yummy), an entree (roasted chicken and french fries… I will NEVER eat french fries again!!!), and a dessert (a big piece of fudgey chocolate cake, yum). All that, plus a water, wound up costing me an astronomical 16.50 Euro. I couldn’t believe it. All of my other friends were in shock as well. We thought that the meal included the appetizer and dessert, but it turns out everything was priced individually. I was really upset about it until I tasted it. Everything was delicious!!

Back on the bus we went, all still sleeping, until Chambord. Chambord is a beautiful, unusual chateau designed by King Francis I as a retreat. The area around it was prime for hunting, and a good place for him to sneak off, which the audio guide told me he was fond of doing. If I were a king and I wanted to sneak off somewhere, this would certainly be the place. It made a great contrast to Versailles, which is all bedecked with gold, carved mouldings, heavy oil paintings, elaborately patterned walls and carpets, everything in velvet and silk. This place is cool, light stone, with spacious rooms, laid out in an orderly fashion, with a double helix staircase designed by Leonardo di Vinci. The walls and rooms were simple, kept rather functional instead of made lavish. Iley was a bit disturbed by the constant displays of hunting trophies, including a hall entirely covered in stag horns, and there were a couple rooms that were really odd, with new age displays that didn’t seem to make any sense, but other than that, I loved it.

Roaming around on my own, I finally found Iley and stuck with her as we explored. On the way back, we stopped for ice cream, since it was in the 80′s with a bright summer sun radiating down on us. I put up my umbrella like a little Asian lady as we walked. It was nice to get back to the air conditioned bus.

Our next and last stop of the day was Loche, where we spent the night. Another one of those towns with mideval style houses and coblestone side streets, it was beautiful. We stayed in a nice hotel, the girls all four to a room, with a glass and wood patio and no air conditioning. We ate dinner across the way, and then split up to find something to do for a little while before bed. Francheska, Rachel, Kristen and I found a small garden, checked on a few tabacs (all of which were closed), and then finally settled on a bar with cheap drinks and a friendly waitress. I didn’t know it at the time, but the bar turned out to be directly across the street from our hotel. I was confused about how all of our friends managed to find the place, but excited to see them. We basically took over the bar, dancing while the DJ played our favorite American tunes. It was fun, but I had to head back at 12:30 to shower and hit the hay. We had to be up for breakfast by 7:30.

The lack of A/C began to bother Malika and I. We were sharing a small room with two twin beds that had an A/C unit, but it refused to turn on. We couldn’t open the window because the music from the bar across the street was already coming through and keeping us awake. So we just slept with barely any covers on, and I was so exhausted from the day, it wasn’t so bad. I only woke up once, cold and surprised to hear thunder and rain.

At 7, Malikaand I woke up and got ready to go. Stephanie H and Lauren, our other room mates, were still sleeping when we left. They insisted they’d get up at 8, meaning they would miss breakfast. I thought that was silly but when I walked outside and found it chilly and rainy, I couldn’t blame them.

Breakfast was a croissant, a piece of baguette, jam, coffee or hot chocolate, and orange juice. That’s it. Iley stared at her plate covered in bread, and said, “I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do with this?” It was free though and there was coffee, so no one complained too much.

The rain stopped by the time we made our way back to the hotel. We met in the lobby and waited for the stragglers, who never came. LeRoy was sent up to find them. Their cell phones had died in the middle of the night, leaving them with no alarm. And just our luck, the stragglers were Caitlin and Amanda, two girls not likely to leave no matter what the rush without putting on make-up and selecting an appropriate outfit. We waited a long time for them and people were getting annoyed. But one look at their hung-over faces and we decided to keep our complaints to ourselves.

Our next stop was another beautiful chateau called Chenonceau. It had two sprawling, beautiful gardens out front of it, and a walkway lined with big shady trees. More scenes from a fairy tale. Our tour guide told us as the bus parked that the castle was famous because it was given to a mistress of King Henri II. After his death, his queen Cahterine de Medicis, kicked her out and took it over. One of the bedrooms is painted all black to show her mourning, and the double gardens are a testament to the rivalry between the women. The bigger of the two gardens was designed by the mistress, and shows her expensive tastes. The more intimate garden was designed by the queen.

We didn’t have an audio guidethis time, but we did have a little brochure giving a brief history of each room. Kristen was complaining about the situation and I offered to play tour guide. I stood in the busy hallway and read the introductory information about the castle to Kristin in a pretty decent fake British accent. She laughed, and I was getting a big kick out of it, so we decided to keep going. We entered the first room to the right, and I began to read again. I wasn’t shouting out every sentence or anything, but nor was I whispering. I didn’t think it was necessary. We weren’t in a church, or a library, but a chateau, filled with people taking pictures and talking and little children running around with excitement. Unfortunately, there weren’t many people in the room we had first entered, and apparently, for some reason, my reading got on people’s nerves. Some guy actually came up to me with a sour face and said, “Shut your mouth!” Kristen and I were completely stunned and unable to protest this injustice, made worse by the fact that another sour faced French woman thanked him loudly and harshly. When I finally regained my composure, I said loudly, still in my fake British accent, “Well if they don’t want me to read, I shan’t,” and I put the brochure in my purse and stalked out, nose high. Kristen was giggling at me and we made fun of the uptight man the rest of the way. The castle was so noisy in some other rooms, he must’ve had a horrible time, if he came expecting silence. We came up with many things to say in retort after the fact, but it’s probably best that we didn’t say anything. It was amusing though that whenever Kristen asked me where we were, I could say, “I don’t know. If only SOME PEOPLE would let me tell you.”

After touring the many rooms, Kristen and I found Spratt, who took us through the gardens and then through the woods to a hedge maze. Then we headed back to the bus.

Next stop was lunch in a cave. It was a fairly nice restaurant, which made us all feel out of place in our regular t-shirts and jeans. It was a really neat place though, the ceilings and walls all left rock, but with some wood supports giving the rooms a more geometrical feel. The big debacle at lunch was that some people had pre-ordered a vegetarian meal, and then upon finding out what the vegetarian meal was going to be, decided they weren’t so vegetarian after all. The kitchen had pre-made a certain number of each plate, and everyone knew that, but selfishly one of the vegetarians told the waiter she was supposed to get the chicken. This resulted in Malika, poor Malika, not getting her plate for quite some time. I was sitting at her table and all of us, in solidarity and protest, decided not to eat until she was served. We also sent waves of shame towards the girl who had stolen her meal, and waves of sympathy for the waiters who were frantic at their “mistake”. The wait was well worth it – the food was delicious. And the staff made sure that Malika was served her dessert first.

After dinner it was time to visit the winery. The wine was kept in caves to keep it cool and dry, and one of the 9 family employees described to us the fermentation, aging, and bottling processes. Of course, through it all, Alyx and Sarah made fun of someone, God only knows who, giggling and being obnoxious. I heard some of the other girls complaining about them. And they went ahead and repeated to Spratt that someone in the other tour group had said he was gay, which I think was unnecessary. But whatever.

We also did a wine tasting, two reds, one rose, two whites, and a champagne (or as they legally have to call it, “sparkling wine”. Champagne is copy righted by the Champagne region.) The wine was delicious and it was so neat learning how to check the color and the taste. I always thought that stuff was a bunch of crap but I learned a couple interesting things. For example, if you check the color on a red and it’s more purple, it’s an older and stronger wine. And there is actually a REASON people swirl their wine. We smelled it, swirled it, and smelled it again and surprisingly, there was a difference! You have to stick your whole nose in the glass, too. You should only swirl and smell three times before you taste. When you taste, you should swish the wine around a bit in your mouth because each part of your mouth registers a different taste: sour, sweet, salty, etc. It was really interesting, and almost everyone wound up buying a bottle (or three!). I bought the rose for myself and stood for a while in a conundrum about what to do for my parents and family. I don’t really know what anyone likes. So despite the excellent quality and the cheap price I just headed home with my rose. I wouldn’t know how to get that kind of thing home without smashing it into a bazillion pieces anyways. Keep your eyes out for some Touraine wine though. It’s amazing!!

And then home again, home again, after a three hour drive. And there, we’re all caught up!

Here are the pictures…. There are 275 of them. Feel free to skip around.

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/LoireValleyWeekend

P.S. Picasa decided to not let me add any more captions after a certain point so I’m sorry. I’ll try again later. But I think you can mostly figure out what things are on your own…

I’ve just showered, so I’m clean and warm. The window’s open so I can hear the light traffic whizzing by, and feel the cool breeze, welcome after a weekend with highs in the 80′s. And I figure, if I’m awake, I may as well try and explain the weekend that produced over 300 pictures. Yes. Three hundred.

Saturday morning we were all grouchy and tired, except for Stephanie U, an unfailing morning person. Francheska was in a crisis over her inability to fit all of her things into her bag. The rest of us were turning circles in our rooms trying to decide what we’d forgotten, or getting coffee from the machine in the lobby. It took a while to get us all together, Madame Spina counting and recounting several times before allowing the bus driver to pull away from the dorms.

We met our tour guide, another tired looking French woman speaking poor English. And then, despite good intentions to see the countryside, we all promptly fell asleep.

We arrived ahead of schedule at 9 AM in Chartre. We used our extra time to explore the town a bit and find a post-breakfast pre-lunch snack. Then we met yet another tour guide, a young local woman, who would show us the ancient cathedral and the “old town” surrounding it.

The cathedral was a place for pilgrimage, very old and very beautiful, but also very dark. Parts of it had been burned and rebuilt, and the tour guide explained to us the strange mix of architecture. The windows and certain parts of the facade dated back to the 11th century, and it was considered a sort of miracle that so many of the stained glass panels had survived. The veil of Mary, the relic bequeathed to the church by the King of France and the source of Chartre’srevenue in the old days, had also been preserved for years. We listened to the tour guide through strange ear phones witha chunky part that we didn’t quite know what to do with. I put it on top of my head for a while and everyone laughed at me.

Another interesting feature of the church I forgot to mention. In the 18th century, someone decided to poke a little hole in one of the windows, and put a nail in the floor. Every year on June 21st at a certain time, the sun comes through the hole and lights the nail. It’s supposed to help set the clocks, and a bunch of people were in Chartre to see it. Although we WERE there on June 21st, we weren’t able to see the nail light up.

The old town was beautiful too, full of remarkably old buildings with a fairy tale feel. We saw the International Stained Glass Museum, although we didn’t go in. We also saw the outside of the old bishop’s house, and a market place that marked where the old duke’s castle used to be. There was another place where an ancient gate to the city used to stand. A ruined wall is all that’s left, from the Second World War when German soldiers bombed it. Everyone was charmed by the town, but soon it was time to go.

And speaking of time to go, I’m tired now. The breeze and my music is easing all that adrenaline right out of me. I’ll write more tomorrow, although it’s going to get tricky to keep up now, withit being my last week of classes/being with my friends. I can’t decide if I’m more excited to see everyone back home, or if I’m more upset about having to leave. It’s so beautiful here, there’s nothing like it in America. And I’ll miss my friends so much. It’ll never be exactly the same as it is now, all of us brought together by this unique experience, seeing something exciting together everyday, united by our common language and our common struggles. Oh well. Life’s gotta keep on moving.  

I do NOT, however, want to keep my adoring audience totally deprived, so I thought I’d just give you a TINY taste and I’ll fill in the details later. I will not be writing this weekend though, please be advised. I’m heading out first thing tomorrow for the Loire Valley on a group trip.

Just so I’ll remember what to tell you later, and also so you can identify the pictures:

I went to the Musee d’Orsay on Thursday, got in for free because it was Thursday, went on my own because I was really annoyed with some of my friends and everyone I wasn’t annoyed with was at Euro Disney, LeRoy fixed my camera

Today I went to the Catacombs in the morning, after class I went to St. Michel again to buy batteries, got some ice cream, tripped on the metro stairs twice, Iley told me I was one of the top 5 funniest people on the trip which was awesome, saw Jim Morrison’s grave but NOT Oscar Wilde’s due to an angry, anti-American guard guy, discovered a very funny British comedian.

And I am VERY excited about my trip tomorrow, but I am also very tired, I haven’t packed, I haven’t showered, and I have to get up VERY early tomorrow, and it’s already 11:30.

Much love to everyone!! Hope pictures and brief descriptions tide you all over!!!

Pictures:

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/CatacombesAndCemetary

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/OrsayAndALittleVersailles

Last night was another France football (sorry I got into the habit of calling it that… I mean SOCCER) game. We headed out pretty early (after a quick stop at the Monoprix – it’s hard to buy everything at once here and carry it all around!). We decided to go to our usual pub, Bombardiers, and got there early enough that space wasn’t such a big problem. We also caught the end of Happy Hour, which helped to take the edge off of the drink prices. Unfortunately, France LOST again. That means they are officially out of the Euro Cup. Beaten by Italy. There were a surprising number of Italy fans in the crowd, actually, which I found annoying. It would’ve been really nice if France had progressed and we could keep going to games. I’ve really been enjoying them.

Most of us went home directly after the game because this morning we had to wake up early. At 9:30 we had to meet our professor on the other side of down for a field trip. We met in front of the metro and went on a quick tour of the surrounding area. The professor explained everything in French, and I caught most of it, which was nice. He showed us the old Trinity church and told us how it was one of the first buildings to be built in Paris with a steel frame beneath the stone. We went inside for a minute and it was gorgeous. He told us about the architecture and the engineering of the building, but I was too absorbed in the beauty of the high vaulted ceiling, the stained glass, and the classical paintings to pay much attention to any sort of mathematical lecture. He led us down old side streets, reminding us that Napoleon the Third built up this area in his Nouveau Vision. We saw one house that had been there since before Napoleon, which was pretty impressive, since most of the city was overhauled.

The museum itself wasn’t that great. I actually hated the painter and completely forget his name. He used lots of dark colors and his subjects were all somber or somewhat gothic looking to me. I prefer the lightness and vibrancy of the impressionists. I listened to the lectures though and tried to focus on the amazing detail and the stories behind each painting, but I still can’t say I appreciate the art. The museum itself was neat, however. It was actually the artist’s house, which had been turned into a museum by a friend after the artist’s death. They kept the downstairs rooms furnished as they would have been during his life, and turned his art studio into a galery. I like seeing how people used to live, so that part was interesting.

Afterwards we grabbed a snack at a bakery near the metro and headed back. We got off the metro a few blocks of where school was, with plenty of time to spare. We saw a Starbucks, and we couldn’t resist. I know, shameful. We did our homework there as we enjoyed the benefits of ice coffee, an invention France seems to have not yet discovered. (Well, I had a hot chocolate, but you know.)

Class was class. And after class, I was so tired from staying out late and getting up early I didn’t want to do much except head back. So I did. I’ve been making phone calls and doing other mundane activities ever since. But I promised myself I’d go to the Musee d’Orsay tomorrow, to see all of my favorite impressionist artists. And if the weather is nice and there’s still time, I’ll go to the Tuilleries gardens again, or maybe the garden at Luxembourg. I’ll have more energy to sight see tomorrow if I rest tonight.

As a side note, please congradulate me on my decision to NOT go to Euro Disney with some of my friends. I don’t understand why you’d waste a day in another country visiting something that’s right in your backyard for the whole school year!! SILLY.

Oh and p.s…. After reading over the comment I left as a reply to some other comments, PLEASE excuse the many typos!! Awful!

Yesterday I got my grade on my quiz back in Civ. When class first started, the professor didn’t mention the quiz at all, but jumped right in to lecturing on an opera called Samson and Delila. I figured maybe he would wait until the end of class, like some professors do, to pass back grades. That way wouldn’t be all depressed or curious about our friends’ grades during class. But right after the opera lecture, he took up his stack of papers, and began calling out names.

Now I am a girl that is used to doing fairly well with a considerable amount of confidence. But there have been instances when grades have concerned me. These instances are made all the worse by my usual confidence. Instead of sitting smugly awaiting my A, my heart starts to pound faster and faster with every paper passed back. My hands sweat, and I start to feel trapped, like I just want to run out of the room screaming. Francheska got her paper right in front of me. She smiled and gave high-fives to Alyx. A good grade. LeRoy got his back next to me. He sheepishly slid his underneath his folder. Bad grade. I tried to analyze everyone’s faces, see what my odds were. But most people were surprisingly hard to read. Not a good sign.

Then the heart stopping moment. “Lesley,” my professor said in his French accent. It seemed like seconds passed between him holding the paper out to me and my hand actually reaching for it. I cringed but like a train-wreck I couldn’t help but look.

19/20. A.

“YES!” I said loudly.

The professor proceeded to explain that in Europe, a B is a fantastic grade, and that teachers rarely give out A’s. I am not so foolish as to think that my paper actually merited an A. It’s more likely that the grade was curved. But still, it’s an A. Whew.

After class we got paninis and began discussing what we should do with our few remaining hours of daylight. Kristen decided she wanted to get her nose pierced, and some other people wanted to go get tickets to a group called Paramore, that’s playing in Paris soon. I had to go to Franprix (again!). So we decided that we’d go back to the dorm, research a piercing place, I’d go to Franprix, and then we’d meet up and all go together. And that’s just what we did.

We decided that before heading out we should go to the cafeteria for some cheap dinner. It was pretty good food for only about 3 Euros. We also heard all about RJ’s trip to the hospital. He apparently has a sinus infection. We were all mildly jealous that he got to skip class (and has a note to get him out of today’s class as well!!) but also rather worried. In such close quarters, we might all have sinus infections soon.

The RER, our usual train, is closed due to a strike. So getting to the Champs-Elysee was more difficult than normal, and involved a couple of metro connections. To pass the time we traded iPods and discussed various bands. Stephanie and Francheska kept singing Spanish songs, and I kept singing Katy Perry.

Finally we made it, and after a short hike with a beautiful view of the sun setting behind the Arc de Triumphe, we were at Fnac, a huge record store. We marched straight up to the ticket counter, only to be told that Paramore tickets were sold out. RJ briefly considered telling the lady that he had almost died that day, in order to garner sympathy, but instead we decided to run around looking at all the French films and the world music. We set up little dance parties around the headphone stations, and noticed differences in European titles versus American titles (ex: Nacho Libre = Super Nacho).

After a while we figured we should find Kristen’s piercing place of choice, so we rode the metro back to Chatlet and got off there. We found the parlor thanks to Spratt, our new fearless leader. He’s in the army, so he reads maps like no one’s business, and he has all these great hand movements to help keep us organized. Every once in a while he taps the top of his head with his palm and that means “Head Count”. We usually only do this if we suspect someone is lost. Poking the flat of his palm means “Map Check”. And then there are all of these complicated signals for other things, but when he does those, we just stare at him blankly and he translates for us.

Anyway, despite our excelent leadership, the parlor was closed. In order to cheer everyone else up, I suggested the ice cream/crepe place next door. We also found a neat vintage shop. And on the way back home, we stumbled upon a group of American violinists, playing amazingly on the street corner. They had just given a recital, and since the train they needed had stopped running, they had to organize a shuttle system to get home. One car took 3 or 4 at a time, to reunite a group of over 30. They were still missing some people, and they thought that maybe if they played, the others would find them. The music was lively and so strange and magical on that busy street corner. People clustered around to listen, and we made small talk with their guardian. They were all American, from all over the country, and it’s always nice to run into some Americans. RJ even gave them a Euro, placing it tentatively at the feet of one of the most talented girls, only 11 years old. The crowd laughed good naturedly at his donation.

So even though all of our initial goals were left unmet, it was still a fun time. And the view of the Arc with the sunset… GORGEOUS! I wish my camera wasn’t broken!!!

First announcement: I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy lately. I have no abandonned you all, I promise. I really liked hearing that you all missed me, though! =D

Second announcement: I enjoy getting your comments. Just so all of you know, if you’re a first-time commenter, I have to approve you first. So your comment will not show up immediately. But it will once I approve it!

Third announcement: Happy Father’s Day!!

Fourth: I am going to BACK DATE the next entries. That means I didn’t ACTUALLY write them on the day it says, but I thought it’d be easier to do it that way. Pictures will be included. Celebration!!

And a special note to my dear Uncle Clete: I have FOUND the Sorbonne t-shirts. None that say “My niece went to…” but at least some that say Sorbonne on them.

Okay, Today’s Adventures.

Today we all went to Versailles. We woke up early and met downstairs at 9:30, where Mme Spina was waiting. The trip to Versailles involves three trains and just a couple blocks of walking, so Mme Spina decided she would lead us out there and then leave after we knew our surroundings.

We were all looking pretty tired, but thanks to the coffee machine in the lobby, we all rallied and rediscovered our excitement. The third train ride was rather long and crowded, so we had to stand for twenty minutes. We were standing next to some British girls, whom we proceeded to eavesdrop on. They said all sorts of strange things like, “I like tea when I’m feeling poorly”.

Once we got off the train, we remembered our trail guide from the day before had recommended a market just up the street from the Chateau, and we were all eager to go there to explore. Mme Spina asked directions, and led us up the street. Soon we could smell the unique blend of flowers, roasting meets, and fresh fruits and vegetables. Vendorsfilled a square, withan endless bounty spread out underneath tents. Spratt and RJ quickly took leadership positions, and decided that we should all split up and locate some brunch, and then meet back at the original spot at 12:30 to head to the Chateau. This sort of leadership was extremely appreciated, because most of our group tends to be very indecisive.

At first I wasn’t sure I wanted anything, because I had eaten my usual Miel Pop breakfast not long before. But temptation was soon to overwhelm me. From one place my friends bought little bags of dried strawberries and dried apples. It’s amazing, they taste exactly like candy, but they have NO added sugar! It’s just natural sweetness. I was allowed to try and they are completely delicious. Then we bought this sort of paste made out of olives. Iley bought one type and Kristen bought another. I didn’t like Kristen’s, it tasted too much like olives, but Iley’stasted more like hummus. They both bought small baguettes to eat the paste on. Then four people bought two roasted chickens, which were also perfectly delicious – still hot, juicy, and flavorful. By this time, I realized I needed my own food. So I headed to an actual bakery, and got a ham-and-cheese toasted sandwich, and a REAL French eclair. We ate sitting on the side of the road, kind of like ragamuffins, but boy did we feast. We even bought a bag of little chocolates and some strawberries for dessert. With everyone sharing everything, it was as sumptuous as any 18th century Versailles meal.

After our make-shift picnic, we headed back down the road to Versailles. Lines almost as imposing as the building itself stretched out across the gravel courtyard. RJ and Spratt went to find the correct line for us, and then we wasted time taking pictures and practicing our French and Spanish.

We got the audio guides, which were at first a little tricky. They don’t really tell you where to start the tour, so we wound up starting at the end and having to go back and find the beginning. The audio guides were also voiced by British people, so we kept cracking ourselves up impersonating them and repeating things. Eventually we settled down and joined the huge crowds milling through the elaborately decorated rooms.

Unfortunately, my camera is a bit on the broke side. But to please my enamored readers, I have taken some pictures from some of my friends. When you see them, you may think we took too many, or you may not really appreciate the complete… What word can I use to describe it? Decadence. The complete decadence that we were surrounded with. The pictures do it no justice. We all tried to take pictures of everything, absolutely every little detail, and I cut some of the less impressive pictures out, but it’s still quite a few. So just a warning.

After we were done touring the inside, which took quite a while, we headed out to the gardens. The dark clouds had finally begun to produce a light drizzle, but we were prepared to continue on. Most unfortunately, we were told at the gate to the gardens that our tickets did not include said gardens. After a moment of rage and disappointment, we decided to just leave, due to the rain. We took a couple of pictures from the railing and from the windows of the Chateau, so that was nice, but the gardens were my favorite part on my last visit. I was also really hoping to see the Petit Trianon this time. It costs less than 20 Euro to get back out there and get a ticket for the garden, so maybe I’ll go another day, or maybe when my parents come to visit. We’ll see. I’m sure I’ll see the Petit Trianon one day.

On the way back to the train we browsed through a souvenir store, but it was overpriced. The train ride home, I was so sleepy, and I resolved to do nothing once I got home. I just took Stephanie and Kristen’s memory cards, uploaded pictures, and began a load of wash. But then Kristen invited me to go watch another soccer game at the pub. I declined on the soccer game, since my laundry’s still going and the room locks at 10, but I did go down to the Luxembourg area with them and showed them a really great Lebanese restaurant where we all got dinner. They make the most delicious wraps and baklava.

Well that’s where I’m at right now… I’ll write more when there is more to say!!

Here’s the link to the pictures, with many thanks to Kristen and Stephanie for their contributions:

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/Versailles

Well, ye disbelievers, I survived!!

We woke up a bit early and met Mme Spina downstairs at 10:20. She led us on a series of metro trains to the big train stain, St. Lazare. There we waited a while for our tour guide, excited to find a small bakery stand nearby, which provided us with breakfast. After a long while, a girl in a red t-shirt and a boy in a white t-shirt rolled mountain bikes up to us and introduced themselves, both blessedly American. The girl, dark complexioned and bright-eyed, said her name was Eliza and she was our guide for the day. The boy was introduced as Dimitri, and Eliza explained that he was just along for the day. This information as well as his undeniable good looks left us girls to speculate about him. Amanda seemed to voice a popular sentiment when she quietly said, “He’s hot. And I’m sick of French boys.”

Eliza proved to be laid back and sensible, having us wait until the mad rush onto the train had slowed down before leading us to one of the last cars – more likely to be open. I sat in the aisle across from Stephanie and Kristen. No one sat next to me, thank goodness. Dimitri sat right in front of Stephanie. During the train ride, we got to talking. Kristen was extremely intrigued by the possibility of landing a job here. Her major is hospitality, and she’s loving our time here. We interviewed him and Eliza during the ride about how they got the job (an application and a successful interview), how many tours they give (about 5 different types), how much money they made (they break even), and how much information they had to memorize (a LOT, in only a week). It made the 45 minute train ride seem like a short trip.

Once off the train and in the town, Eliza led us to an open air market, which was also conveniently located next to a Monoprix. We were instructed to buy supplies for a picnic, and then meet back up to head out. Although I am positively charmed by the IDEA of an open air market, I prefer one shop where everything is kept properly cold, the aisles are labeled, and I can buy the brands I like. I know, I am a dirty, demanding, picky American.

Everyone met back at a pre-ordained time with their picnic supplies in hand (or in bag, as the case may be). Then we walked down the road for a little while. On the left hand side beneath a little archway, there were rows of long, white storage sheds. From them, Eliza and Dimitri pulled our bikes, each one with a special name and in either blue or red. I got a red one named Serendipity. It was way too high for me, which was annoying, and the handles seemed set oddly far back. Everyone giggled as they struggled to adjust to the tricky situation. And then we were off, straight into traffic, wobbling and joking and yelling, getting honked at by tiny European cars, following our Mother Duck Eliza.

Once over a bridge, we reached the bike path, and a nice grassy bank of the Seine. We had our picnic there, enjoying simple lunches of bread, cheese, meats, and a few fresh strawberries. The view was lovely, and we learned about the ruins of a 12th century bridge, destroyed in WW2. The remnants, a large stone support, rose out of the clear water and allowed you to imagine days gone by.

Eventually clouds began to move in and the wind picked up, so Eliza decided it was time to head out. Thankfully the weather seemed to pass almost as soon as we hit the bike trail. We rode along a wide, smooth path. It ran between a thick Forrest and the back of people’s houses. I was still tottering along, but I hadn’t fallen yet. We also stopped several times to take some pictures.

Eventually we rode into the town where Monet was staying. We left our bikes across the street from the Bawdy hotel, and regrouped. Eliza told us that the Bawdy hotel was originally just a residence and a cafe, owned by the Bawdy family. An American artist came to stay, and the Bawdy’swere kind enough to give up their room to him for the evening. They also told him that Monet lived down the street, which of course excited the American artist quite a bit, and he went and had a nice chat withMr. Monet. He then returned to Paris, to tell all of his American artist friends about this great hotel and this great little town withMonet in it. So of course the quiet village was flooded with American artists who expected room and board. The Bawdy’s wound up adding on to their house to cater to the American artists, and thus, the Bawdy hotel exists today. Next to it is a museum of American art, due to the fact that sometimes the artists were too poor to pay the hotel’s bill, and traded a painting instead.

The Monet house is a stroll down a picturesque street. The group entrance opens right up to the exquiste gardens, which we spent some time walking through. We took tons of pictures and admired the complexity and richness of the place. Monet himself began the garden, despite his neighbor’s protests about his plant importation. It’s positively beautiful, and positively huge. But it’s amazing to see the actual place that Monet painted. His waterlilies live on, both in reality and on canvas.

The house is odd, with several rooms all in one color. There’s a blue room, a yellow room, a green room. It was crowded too, so we soon left, to bike up the street and pay a short visit to Monet’s grave.

Then we biked all the way back into town. It was actually quite a long way, but it was sunny and cool and most of us had gotten used to bike riding by that point. And then the train ride back.

I was so tired I didn’t do much at night except head down to the basement to hang out with my friends for a little bit. The ping-pong table saw the rise of a new champion: Spratt. He’s a really nice army boy, and we all love him because he finally ended RJ’s winning streak. Illey’s a little disappointed though. She wanted to be the one to finally beat him. Now I suppose she’ll have to work on beating Spratt.

Pictures of the Monet Gardens (and some other pictures from Thursday and Friday as well) are located here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/PixieSticker/MonetGardensPlusSome

After class on Thursday the weather was gorgeous. Dad calls them “manna days”. We were happy to be out of class at 3:30, and we headed to our favorite panini place to take advantage of the lunch special, as usual. We ate as we walked towards the subway, and I, like a little kid just out of elementary school, kept asking everyone what we were going to do. I just wanted to be OUTSIDE. Unfortunately, despite a few exciting plans, everyone pretty much separated to run mundane errands or to relax for a bit after a hectic week of school. I managed to enlist Iley and Matt for a trip to the Notre Dame area, however. We left a bit late, around 7 I suppose, and we “souvenired the shops”, as Iley likes to say. Since it’s gotten cold again and my old blue scarf as been worn to death, I got two more scarfs on an excellent deal. Matt bought a silly hat, and both him and Iley bought France soccer jerseys for the upcoming games. We also noted with some delight that all of the souvenir shops are run by people from India and play very loud Indian music, which we danced to a bit. We took pictures of Notre Dame from the Seine, and tried out a crepe place that Iley highly recommended. It was delicious.

After we headed back, we hung out in the basement for a little while, but we all wanted to go to bed early.

Friday, I don’t really remember what I did in the beginning of the afternoon. Maybe I didn’t do much. I think that was the day I had to find batteries and walked down to the quickie mart, and I also did a quick Monoprix trip at Saint Sulpice with Stephanie. I think that’s what I did. But anyways, at night, we had all planned to go watch the France vs. Holland soccer game at a little English pub called Bombadiers. Since everyone had separated, though, it wound up being just me and Kristen leaving from la Fondation, which I didn’t mind at all. Kristen reminds me a lot of Mandy Justice, and we get along well.

Bombadiers was overflowing with people, and we couldn’t find our friends in the crowd. I sort of didn’t want to stay, but Kristen seemed too excited to leave. And what I came for was the atmosphere, and this place certainly had atmosphere. So we stayed. We found a place in the middle, grabbed some cider beers, and started cheering on our team. I used to hate soccer, but it was easy to feed off the energy of the crowd, and whenever I didn’t understand, Kristen would explain. I sound found myself screaming “Allez Bleu!” with the best of the French fans.

Around half time, we took advantage of the fact that half the bar had gone outside to smoke, and found a place nearer to the back windows, where it was cooler and there was more space. We also spotted Matt walking down the street, and I ran outside to greet him. We got more beer.

Once the game started, I realized our move might not have been as fortunate as I thought. A girl with thick, blond hair was standing in front of me. After one too many drinks, she was bouncing around and cheering loudly – for Holland. I couldn’t see because of her jumping and moving, and her hair was starting to fall into my beer. I was getting so annoyed that my complaints to my friends soon got louder and louder. I was actually hoping she’d hear me and realize that her behavior was inconsiderate and annoying, but she didn’t seem to understand English. So finally I pretty much shouted something along the lines of, “I can’t see the STUPID game because of all this stupid bouncing, and that’s what I came here for, the game.”

The girl whipped around and smiled at me. “You can’t see?” she asked sweetly.

“Uh… no… no I can’t…” I was still annoyed with her, but embarrassment and guilt was beginning to temper that.

“Here, you should stand in front of me,” she said in accented English. “I’m taller than you, no? So that’s fair. And if you jump, I jump too! Who you cheer for, please?”

“France!” I said firmly as I accepted her gracious offer.

“Oh no no no, wrong team.”

I felt a little guilty for the rest of the game about that whole exchange, but I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson. I tend to assume people are annoying out of selfishness, but I think if I had just nicely asked this girl if she could stop jumping or let me stand in front of her, she would’ve, and then I wouldn’t have felt like such a complete jerk.

Anyways, France lost. The bar emptied out quickly afterwards, but we stayed to drink another couple beers. We met some really nice French people, our age, who talked to us about politics and the relationship between France and the U.S. They said they knew we weren’t all like Bush, and that we didn’t all like the president or our own policies, but that they didn’t like the ignorance they sometimes encountered in Americans. They freely admitted however that they don’t like their own government, that French girls are rude even to their own kind, and that France is one of the worst countries to learn another language in. They have trouble learning English, and told us the teachers were pretty inept. They said what they didn’t like about America is how our brands take over the world. All the movies here are American, all of the popular clothing is too. They just wish for a more mixed sense of culture, which I understand and agree with. It was hard to disagree with them, when they were being so fair and complimenting our French. The girl gushed over how nice we were. When we told her that her English was just fine, she squealed, “You’re so cute! American girls are so nice!!” We were all so interested in the conversation that the time got away from us, and at 12:20 I realized the metro would stop running soon. We raced off, with instructions and reassurances from our new French friends.

We made it home just fine, although a little late. I was tired when I got up the next morning, but it was an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. I learned a lot about French culture, and I also had really nice political and philosophical conversations with Kristen and Matt, which I think brought us closer. So all in all, a great night, even if France did lose.

This may seem extremely unhealthy, but I assure you, all the walking I’m doing more than makes up for any slight dietary indiscretions. Also Toblerone bars are cheaper and tastier here. I ate mine with my head sticking out my window. This guy across the way was leaning out his window too. He said “Hi” to me and I waved cuz my mouth was full.

So let’s Tarentino it, as Melanie says. (That means go backwards in time.) Last night was pretty awesome. Consumed with anxiety about our upcoming quiz, my friends and I decided to study down in the basement. Studying quickly deteriorated into dancing, talking, laughing, and playing ping pong. We found this song that is really, really awful, and we love it. We kept playing it and dancing to it, and referencing it all the time. I can’t remember exactly what else was so hysterical, but all I can remember is laughing a LOT. Eventually we all had to really hit the books though. We split up to increase productivity and agreed to meet downstairs again in the morning.

Which we did, but it was much less fun. The stress of the quiz seemed to swallow up all that fun we were having before. I ate Miel Pop after Miel Pop while intently staring at a chart outlining the many governmental changes in France until it was time to leave for class.

Nothing really worth mentioning happened in class, except that it turns out that this quiz we’ve been freaking out over was something of a “practice”. If we do well on it, he’ll keep the grade. If not, he’ll discuss it with us, drop the grade, and hope that we do better next time. It wasn’t ridiculously hard, but I do need to study more specifics next time – names, dates, that sort of thing. I’m sure my grammar was pretty poor as well.

Some of us headed down the street to get paninis from this great little stand down the street from school. They gave us the lunch special even though it was past 6. I didn’t get a sandwhich cuz I wasn’t hungry, but I did have a bite, and it was delicious. It’s definitely going to be my lunch for tomorrow.

When we got back to the dorm, there was a sign on the door that said Free Concert 18:30. And we realized that this guy who had been playing the saxophone – very badly – was having said concert, and that it was in fact 18:30. We decided to go, which turned out to be a bad idea. According to the program handed to us when we walked in by a scruffy, artsy looking boy, this saxophone player is the next big thing. He’s on a Fulbright scholarship, and studying under some of the best sax players in the world. Unfortunately, he is the next big thing in contemporary music. Which means that his first song sounded like two walruses fighting a moose, followed by the moose’s slow, painful, LOUD death. Our giggles were largely contained until the very end of his first…. song….? It ended with spaced out, long, deep notes. In between notes, an old man began to unwrap a candy. The noise of the wrapping paper filled the completely silent auditorium. Everyone turned to look at the old man. When I say everyone, I mean the 7 other people in the room. And Kristin and I just lost it. It wasn’t the full blown giggles, but the silent, wheezing, irrepressible giggles, which we managed to rein in after a sharp look from an old woman in the front. When the song (?) was over, we clapped politely, and quietly made our way out.

After joking around quite a bit on the stairs, we went our separate ways – me to Franprix, Stephanie to make phone calls, Iley and Kristin to meet a friend and go to the Louvre. We are all supposed to meet downstairs in 10 minutes though, for another Eiffel Tower evening. Kristin and Iley’s out of town friend is coming too. Afterwards, I think everyone’s going out bar hopping (again), but I’m too tired. I’ve already warned everyone that I can be quite beastly when I haven’t slept.

Please no one think badly of me for laughing during the recital! I tried my best not to!!