Privileged to be in Paris

Life is so sweet right now. Literally. I have had so many sucre et beurre ou nutella crepes, I swear my pants are getting tighter. Just when I thought I’d go to France and become a tiny little Parisian girl eating baguettes all day, I start manging on three course homemade meals every night. At my home stay, I am fed four nights a week Monday through Thursday and breakfast every morning. It’s a good deal. Each night I have the opportunity to practice my French with my host mom and eat her delicious home cooked meals. Oh la la. Before I left les Etats-Unis, I was curious to find out exactly what the French eat for meals. All you ever hear is talk about baguettes and fromage and croissants and crepes and wine. Well, there is so much more than that here in Paris! Sure, it’s pretty common  (and lives up to your expectations, unlike China. Apparently there is no chicken fried rice. The horror!) to find crepes on nearly every block and a boulangerie on every corner. However, I’m happy to note that dinner is a little more… diverse and unoriginal. Well, it’s not as shocking or disgusting as Passport to Paris might make you think. That movie certainly brainwashed me into thinking many things about Paris (what a surprise to find that most aren’t true!). Every night I have water (lots of my friends have wine and their host families pour their glass (with multiple refills!) ) with dinner and a baguette. Each meal is loaded with mouth-watering deliciousness. I’ve had tomato curly noodles with chicken, piaya, vegetables and fruits (your norm), flat pizza, and the most interesting to note: ESCARGOT. For my next sentence, I would like you to sit down when you read this. I liked it. I say this with all smiles because I am so proud of myself. I even asked my host mom to take a photo of me for proof to show my parents and for times when I feel stupid at French to make me feel like a winner because at least I ate escargot and liked it. I’m never told what we’re having for dinner. So on Valentine’s Day, she called out my name to come to the table. When I saw snails on the table, I did panic a bit. To put salt in my wounds I noticed that they were green. As if eating normal snails were bad enough, they had to be green too. Well, luckily that green taste (which I believe was garlic) covered most of the original taste of snails. Since I’m not a total texture freak, I could get by. She put 15 snails on my plate to start. Once I finished those in minutes, she put ten more on. Then when it got down to like twenty, she gave me ten more.  Add that up. That’s 35 snails. And there was more! We had cheese, the piaya, and pineapple, peut-etre? It was a night to remember.

escargots

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, it was probably one of the best days I’ve had. My friends and I decided to head off to the Marais district. This district is known for some special attitudes. It’s the Jewish, gay, and fashion boutique district. Basically it’s the best one around. The streets are too narrow for cars really to pass through a lot of the time, the shops are mostly unrecognizable to us Americans, and apparently it’s where fabulously and ridiculously remarkable people go to just, like, stroll. I’m talking about MICHELLE WILLIAMS. I’ll break it down for you in a scene:

-Sigrid is sitting outside of a soap store on some sort of hump that’s not meant for sitting, but for refusing cars to pass through. She is a little exhausted at this point because she chose to skip out on ordering a falafel, which was a terrible mistake because the bite she had of her friend’s was so delicious. She waits for four of her friends inside, while her and Elise are gazing around absentmindedly.

-On this slightly overcast day, Sigrid looks up at the sky to weigh the possibility of rain, but decided the sun would break the spell of the clouds.

-Sigrid glances back down to spot a recognizable figure approaching her. Sigrid only had to measure the reality of the situation for a split second to come to the conclusion she was staring into the face of the famous Michelle Williams. Michelle walks by, arms hooked around a man of no consequence because he is not Heath Ledger so what’s the point of paying attention.

-The figure passes, and Sigrid stands up gaping, a little disorientated and stumbles inside the soap store. “GUYSITHINKIJUSTSAWMICHELLEWILLIAMS” she slurs out.

-The five girls suddenly forget that they were in a middle of receiving a hand washing demonstration and rush out.

-And it was she, all six agreed.

the couple walking down a street

Excellent story, am I right? I should probably take a pill that could allow me to chill after seeing someone famous. I should explain that seeing someone famous for me is like the thing I would one day be telling my grandchildren about. Even if they had no idea who they were by that time. There are scars on my eyes from seeing the famous. Annnnywayyyssss… the rest of the day was just as good. We stumbled upon a chocolate shop-perfectly fit for a day like V-day and window-shopped the rest.  At night we took a romantic outing for us friends to the Eiffel tower for some late night crepes. The day could not have been sweeter. I’m happy I could spend it with people I enjoy having around. I hope my family and friends had an equally remarkable day. I love you all so much!

eiffel tower with six girls

On a separate note, I have had all my classes by now. I am taking the bare minimum, plus an internship. I landed into Intermediate 1 for my language class, which seemed like a comfortable spot as of this morning. Most people are in Elementary 3, Intermediate 1, or Intermediate 2. Classes for me are three hours at a time, twice a week. After today, it seemed all right. I really like my class (of 12!) and my professor who reminds me of so many actors-I’m a little obsessed with him in a non-creepy and non-weird way. I hope this doesn’t get me in trouble for saying or for him even to find out! But he reminds me of Jack from Lost mixed with the Sherriff of Rottingham from Men in Tights (and a dash of Don Draper). Class did seem a bit on the longer side, no wonder. Afterwards, I had l’histoire d’art. I like my teacher once again, but the topic was pretty uninteresting being it’s the Baroque and Classique and Rococo periods that I’m not really enthralled in. But who am I to complain?! Our other classroom is the Louvre, for god’s sake. The Louvre! On Thursdays, I’m also taking a class about literature written in France (mainly Paris je pense) about the culture, the people, the everything. For this class, our classrooms are all over Paris-meaning museums, conciergerie, among other places. Total, I have just over 12 hours a week of class (c’est tres bon!) and an internship teaching English to adorable French children that are cuter than any child in a J Crew catalogue which starts next week for just 30 hours over the entire semester.

Alright, well it’s time for me to try out another French meal and I’m starving so much I might eat the keyboard. There’s bound to be more in a week-because life in Paris moves so fast-you need to sit down each week to reflect on everything that’s occurred! J’aime ma vie en France beaucoup beaucoup beaucoup.

the roses around a table

Pardon moi for the Franglais. Some day I’ll have them separate from each other.

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