Danielle Vs. Paris

2011, you may not have made the best first impression, but your bound to be better than the last year that I met.

For those of you who don’t know, 2011 and I met at a New Year’s party in Correze, France after my break from 2010. Despite the best attempts of 2010 on the days leading up to New Years, I knew it was time to break it off. For reasons included in this blog and many not included in this blog, 2010 had proven itself to be a horrible year. And truth be told at midnight January 1st, I was more than ready to say good-bye. However the previous two days had given me a glimpse of the fun and personable side of this year. After all, two days in the French countryside with 7 intelligent and interesting people, particularly people who are willing to put up with my horrible attempts at speaking French and complete cluelessness during a game of psychiatry, are bound to cheer anyone up. Plus of course the refreshing weather and beautiful landscapes didn’t hurt. From our last days together it seemed that 2010 and I worked best in the French countryside. Not that it was always smooth sailing.

Attempts to rent a car and go cross-country skiing didn’t work out quite as planned. The car fiasco resulted in 2 stopped credit cards and a frantic search for transportation, while our skiing attempts were thwarted by a complete lack of snow (a somewhat necessary element).  However, it seems like the key to a good time in life is the people. I for still had fun (thanks to Maxime’s persistence in finding a car, and his mom’s friend in lending it) hiking through woods instead of skiing through them. Although my good mood may also have had also something to do with the fact that I spent this time well nourished (I’ve noticed I’m a happier person when I actually eat meals). If I had to comment on the one major cultural difference between France and America, it would have to be the insistence in France on eating 3 legitimate meals. People here actually prepare a fully cooked meal for lunch. It was wonderful, and slightly blew my mind. Suffice it to say that my fellow housemates appeared quite amused when I thought that our lunch was our dinner. I didn’t even know you could cook twice in a day!

These jovial moments with 2010 were alas fleeting. The evening of January 31st I knew it was time to say goodbye. I even put on a dress for the occasion (gasp!, don’t worry I “fashionably” paired it with my sneakers.). The chosen venue was a community center in a small town about a half-hour away. It may not have been Times Square, but at least there were still plenty of witnesses to offer support and drinks with which to fortify myself. That I did. To the point where I even allowed said witnesses to glimpse my dancing skills. Between not knowing how to dance, and having no rhythm, I imagine the scene looked like an elephant with 4 left feet jumping around hoping that no swans got underfoot for fear of trampling them. It was not pretty. Nevertheless the clock struck 12, I awkwardly kissed the checks of about 20 strangers, and I bid 2010 adieu.

In the excitement, 2011 walked into my life. I was truly pleased. This was the year I had been waiting for. New, fresh, full of promise, for the first time in a long time I was not just telling myself I was having fun, I was actually having fun. However, I’m not the spring chicken I once was, come to think of it I don’t think I have ever been the spring chicken I once was. Parties and drinking, New Year or not, they just make me tired. So my solution to these unfamiliar emotions of excitement and happiness, go back to the house, have a bit of tea and conversation, and go to sleep. Besides I had all year to get to know 2011 and early afternoon train to catch.

The next day 2011 and I had our first incident. This incident unfortunately involved me missing my bus to catch my train to Paris. Mortified at my stupid mistake, I resolved to solve the problem and find another train to Paris irrespective of the cost. Well then of course in keeping with my luck, all the other trains heading to Paris that day were booked and when I finally resigned to calling my host I realized that I had forgotten to ad his number to my phone. I only had the number of one of the other guests, and he happened to be taking a nap when I called. I thought about trying to walk back, but I had no idea where I was in relation to the house. I believe my situation was what some would call, a pickle. For me it just seemed like a return to reality. Eventually my friend saw his phone and texted me the number of my host. I then texted my host, who called me back and asked what had happened. I tried to explain in French, but being flustered wasn’t able to string together a comprehensible explanation. The phone was then passed to another friend who spoke English and French. I explained the situation to him in English, he explained the situation to my host in French, and the two of them set off to come get me at the train station. After walking nearly an hour my friends arrived and we together made the return trip with all my luggage. I felt horrible for having to make them walk such a long way, especially when the both had to make the same trip later for another friend.

However, it was nice to spend a last night with everyone, and I throughly enjoyed eating my first galette des rois. One word, delicious! I should have avoided the wine though. It may have led me to mention my feminist tendencies (I have really tried to avoid this topic in France, I have a hard enough time meeting people and a lot of my opinions on this subject usually don’t have the best effect on others). Which of course I could not fully explain because I was still trying to speak in French. My language skills having sufficiently deteriorated I continued to be largely incomprehensible throughout the evening. I’m just going to chalk it up to fatigue.

The next morning everyone once again made the trek to the train station. This time however we were escorted directly onto the train so as to be sure not to miss it. 7 Hours later my New Year’s adventure was over and I was back in Paris. The first few days of my New Year may not have been perfect, but they were definitely memorable. Someone told me that how you start your New Year is an omen for how the next year will be. I’m not sure if this is true. I don’t remember how I started 2010, but I will never forget that year. If the opposite is true this year and I don’t remember anything from 2011, I will at least be glad to know I won’t forget the way I rang it in.

Before I begin to regal you all with magical tales of a New Years in France, I should probably inform you of the end of my epic battle with the Parisian beast. In short, I followed in the recent Michigan tradition and lost…epically. However, what is it that people say, something about the best lessons coming from sound defeats. I would like to think that I’ve learned to relax more when it comes to school and life. Yes, grades are important, but actually living life is important too. I’ve written about this lesson before, to the point where to be sure it has gotten more than it’s fair share of lip service. What I never actually did was put it into practice. For better or for worse I think now have.

The month of December was the real turning point. My knock out month. Literally. It began like any other month for a privileged white kid living in France. A trip to French Alps with a bus load of undergraduate Sciences Po students. For the record, French tour buses are significantly less roomier then their American counterparts and their drivers feel the need to stop every 3 hours along a 9 hour trip. This American was quite confused. He wasn’t even drinking coffee. That was probably because eating and drinking was forbidden on the bus…and there was no movie playing. Yes, imagine it if you can fellow Americans, a road trip where one was not able to cram oneself with fat-filled junk food and entertain an increasingly short attention span with mundane Hollywood plots and stock comedic characters. I know the sheer terror you must be experiencing right now. But, not to worry, I had a fellow North American to keep me company. Believe it or not, long bus rides are actually a great way to improve one’s skills in the disappearing art of actual human interaction.

Some of the buildings in Tignes were quite ugly but the scenery was magnificent (of course what ski town situated in a mountain valley doesn’t have beautiful scenery) The problems began when it came time to actually ski. May I just say that mountains are quite large, and in this case steep. Courtesy of my incredible lack of coordination I had the privilege of hitting my head against the ice not one, not two, but three times. While I actually felt okay for most of the trip, when I got back to Paris it became all to apparent that a closed head injury, complete lack of sleep, and an expose in French on an abstract topic involving history and avant garde, are really not an ideal combination. My memories of the experience involve the words “blinding head pain”. At any rate, it appears to not have been too serious because I’m not dead and I’m pretty sure I can still function normally, well normally for me anyway. So as they say, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and strength or rather a very focused will and concentration was necessary to get through the remainder of my December classes.

Of course as all college students are aware of, this is generally the time for final exams. I however, was lucky enough to get a reprieve from actual exams (these come in January). Instead I just had 4 research papers to write and of course I procrastinated and waited until the last minute (in one case last 30 seconds) to write and turn them in. Honestly who actually does their work in a timely manner. That would just make life way to easy. It can definitely be said that this was not my best work. Oh and did I mention I lost my second phone. Yay me and over a month without a cell phone. Its not good for someone who already has hermit tendencies to lose their vital means of communication with the outside world twice. So if you called me or sent a text any time between November 14 and December 27th i was not ignoring you I promise. I just never received it.  Happily though, I am now with phone and reconnected to the world.

The excitement of phoneless paper writing lasted pretty much until the week of Christmas. Now what I am about to say will probably mark me as an incredibly pathetic person but do keep reading and I promise to provide at least somewhat of an explanation. I basically spent the entire week before and actual Christmas holiday alone. Now I do have a reason for this. First, I really couldn’t justify spending nearly a thousand dollars to fly back home for a week. It just seemed silly, especially when my family had just come in November and I can skype for free. Second, its fun to spend New Years with friends. New Years is more of a party holiday and everyone usually just does some form of drinking anyway. However, at least for me, Christmas is more of a personal and traditional family holiday. It just felt weird to celebrate it while in a hotel or with someone that I didn’t really know. Besides, I used this opportunity to begin doing yoga and to start really running again. It was actually nice to feel fitter rather than fatter during the holidays. However, some things, like my grandfather having to have a quadrupedal bypass surgery two days after Christmas made me wish I had gone back. But seeing as how New York was in the middle of a blizzard, its unlikely I would have made it there anyway. So I stayed and explored Paris on foot sans the hordes of tourists. It really wasn’t all that bad.

Now as to my raising of the white flag, perhaps I’ve been in France to long because normally I am not particularly inclined to admit defeat. My family can attest to hours of inane arguments that have gone on simply because I was determined to have the last word. That is why it has been so difficult for me to admit that I can’t win against this force that is Paris. But I think I have come to the realization that Paris will never be Ann Arbor. There are not nearly enough Ugg boots, Blimpy Burgers or horrible football teams in this city. I will probably never be as comfortable here as I am in the U.S. It only makes sense, I’ve lived in Paris for 4 months, I spent 21 years in America (just enough time to adopt a true American elitist attitude). I can however, learn to relax more here. Hence the running and yoga. The next step should probably be making more of an effort to have a social life but in the words of Bill Murray as Bob Wiley, “Baby Steps”. 

You know that scene in a movie where the main character is in some awkward position doing a voice over asking how it is they got to be there, then the character begins to narrate the events leading up to that awkward moment through a giant flashback that is the film. That is what is happening now. Except my narration is going to have to include the awkward position because unfortunately for you, but quite fortunately for me, no one thought to capture my introductory embarrassment. It’s been quite a while since I last updated the world on my daily struggle against the monolith that is living in France. For the record though I did begin this blog by saying that I am horrible at keeping up with these things. If i didn’t attribute it to my commitment issues, i am now. Actually, I have no idea if I have commitment issues, honestly it just sounds like a better excuse then I was to lazy to write. There is a lot of pressure when someone decides to write these things. I for one at least don’t want it to sound like absolute crap ( I am defining crap as something that is merely a boring recount of what someone did during their day. Boring being the key word, if you can make your mundane life sound interesting, I envy you. If you cannot, please do not try.) Hence the pressure. But like I said, commitment issues are easier to explain.

Now that I have sufficiently digressed from my actual point, let me try to get back to my life/ongoing epic battle with Paris. I was happy to have another little break in November when my family decided to take a trip to Europe. Mom and Kelsey braved a brief foray into France, while Dad stayed a safe distance away in Germany. I think the two 1/2 days in the city of love, magnificent architecture, and chain-smokers was enough to teach them several important things, I walk very fast, Michigan might not actually have the worst drivers in the world, English really is taking over the world, and elevators are not something to be taken for granted. Their trip also gave me the opportunity to escape the city for the weekend as we spent some time with my Dad in Germany. If I ever sufficiently recover from the financial trauma this experience is having on my bank account, I know at least one country I would like to go to again. We spent the day in Munich, walking around the town and having lunch in a little Bavarian restaurant near our hotel. Apparently I can somewhat understand German. Or at least I am getting better at understanding what people mean when I don’t have a clue what the actual words coming out of their mouths mean. It’s a talent I have had a lot of time to perfect. At any rate the food was both delicious and strangely familiar. Apparently typical American fare is much closer to traditional German cuisine then I realized. Also for fellow clueless American travellers, a frankfurter sausage plate is really just a plate of hotdogs. I wouldn’t recommend getting this if you want to try authentic German food…it is quite anti-climatic. At any rate after Munich and a trip to the Cinderella castle, we drove to Austria to spend the night in Innsbruck ( I think that is how you spell it). Again another beautiful town. The mountains and my dad’s driving were breathtaking. The first being a bit more pleasant than the latter. Windy roads up very large mountains, at night, with fast speeds, and an incredible urge to backseat drive, do not always make for the most pleasant of experiences. However we did arrive without carreening off a cliff so I consider it a successful trip. My German experience even ended quite well. I arrived at the Stuttgart airport to fly back to Paris a bit earlier then necessary and ended up getting a free plane ticket and the chance to fly back on Lufthansa rather then Air France (a trade up in my opinion). They had overbooked my flight and seeing as how I would still get into Paris that night, I took the offer to take a connecting flight rather then a direct one. It was definitely worth the 150 euros. The only actually bad thing about the trip was that I didn’t get to see my friend Becca. She has been living in Germany for nearly a year now and is expecting her first baby in January. I’m still hoping to get there before then. Not that I don’t want to see her baby, but from what I understand about babies, I don’t think she will want to see me. Apparently children are quite demanding during their first few weeks of life.

All in all, my brief reprieve from the arena was refreshing (literally, I was in the mountains after all). It makes me wonder why it is that every other city I visit in Europe has been an enjoyable experience, but when I’m in Paris I seem to have a huge sign on my head that says a variation of the following, “Please make my life difficult” and/or “I hate it when things go right, so please add another step to this already complicated process so that I can mess it up” (I have a big head). Oh well, that can be a source of contemplation for the next post. This has been scene 2, the introduction within the flashback. Next should be the build-up. However, I feel that I have sufficiently committed myself today, so I will leave that as the pull to entice you all to brave my next post and find out what happens next on Danielle V. Paris. ( Just so you know that last sentance is supposed to be read with a deep, cheesy announcer voice)

I decided that I was not done ranting (Cathartic release people, work with me here)

The end of round 2 was rough. I’m not going to say it was a knock out round. But I’m pretty sure I heard the ref counting once, maybe twice. Even in this new round, I haven’t been able to completely shake the daze from the end of round 2. While I hope November gets better, I know nothing is going to happen until I finally get my head into this fight once and for all. As is evident by the day I just had, that has not yet happened.

For starters, I believe my French has actually gotten worse. My short lived optimism has regressed into full-blown pessimism. As I said earlier, I haven’t really been socializing with anyone, but if I do socialize, it is nearly always with English speakers. Mostly because when one is depressed, at least when I an depressed, I become lazy. Unfortunately for me, speaking French is hard. I can’t express myself as easily or as articulately as I can in English. So I don’t. Usually not a problem in the States, however, bit of a problem in France. Particularly when trying to explain to a frustrated salesperson that I want to bundle my cell and my internet together. The result, me literally saying “fuck it” and walking out. Probably not the best way to handle the situation. I blame my rude American tendencies. Its not my fault, blame my socialization in a culture that promotes irresponsibility and American superiority over the rest of the world. That was really only the tip of the iceberg. Several days of frustration and procrastination came to a head today. 

My day began at 6 pm yesterday. It was then that I decided it was really time to buckle down and finish and expose that was do at 8 am today. The topic, or rather La problematique: Can a comparison between the foreign policies of the United States and the European Union be used to create a comprehensive and effective framework for dealing with Belarus? My stated answer, yes. My real opinion, who cares. Belarus is geopolitically irrelavent with a population that largely identifies with Russia and for that matter is largely ethnically Russian. Why not just let the Russians have influence? Frankly I think there are more pressing matters in the world, like hmm, i don’t know, a significant number of crazy people with vast resources who want to blow me up for my secular liberal values. Yes, Alexander Lukashenko is for all intensive purposes a dictator. But honestly, he is no Kim Jung-il, he is not even a Putin for that matter. The U.S. will do what it always does, throw money at the problem, the EU will do what it always does, talk a lot and at the end offer some type of conditionality agreement, that will not result in any real change because Belarus has not incentive to conform to any conditions of the European Union. The world will continue to revolve, people will continue to accuse the governments of the west of being imperialist. Life goes on. My expose did not say this. Maybe I should of though. The goal is to start a discussion right, I think people might have had something to say about that. Instead I just rambled on like an idiot for way to long listing tons of facts because I failed to properly consolidate my research. Not to mention the fact that I’m fairly sure half the class did not understand me because their English is not that great and I was rambling. It is a bad habit.

Anyway, after that embarrassing experience, I proceeded to continue to make a fool of myself in French class. Nothing new there. Its really my own fault. Perhaps one day I will actually sit down and learn the grammar rules of this language. Maybe I should learn the official grammar rules of my own language while I’m at it. Maybe. One day. Anyway, all this would not have been so bad had I not been late to both classes after having to run through a torrential downpour before each class (they are in different buildings), in the cold, in my new coat, without an umbrella. Then of course there was the incident with my French bank cheques. After going through the usual beaurcratic nonsense to get the cheques, then going through it again after having to send them back because they spelled my name wrong. (The French usually spell Danielle with one L- Daniele. That however, is not my legal name) I was finally able to give the student sports association the check to reserve my place in an upcoming ski trip. However, a few hours later I received a call saying my check needed to be rewritten. The idiot I am, I wrote the amount in dollars instead of euros. Not only is that invalid for a French cheque, but it also would have jipped them out of about 80 dollars. Whoops. Freudian slip I guess. I hate spending money and the horrible exchange rate really gets to me. Anyway, another trip back through the rain. Oh by the way did I mention that the library is closed for the entire week. Yes, for all you people familiar with the University of Michigan, imagine the Grad, the Ugli and every other library on campus being closed for a week because the staff has a workshop to attend. Oh yes, I love studying in this country. Especially when I have a paper due this week on the French Revolution and a vast majority of the books in English on the French Revolution that I need to use are in a library that is once again closed during the middle of the school year. I will never take American Universities and their liberal hours of operation for granted again. (Yes, I could go to a French library, however the books are all in French and the topic I am writing about is the English perspective of the French Revolution. There are not many books in French about the English perspective of the French Revolution. The French seem to prefer their own perspective. Not that I blame them, how many Americans read books on the French perspective of the American Revolution.)

At any rate, discouraged and slightly pissed at the fermeture of the library, I went home to take a nap before my next class at 7 pm. First I stopped off at the grocery store where I finally found cookie dough. Right on par with chocolate for cheering me up. I was very excited, only to find out that it does not taste anywhere as good as the stuff in the U.S. It is actually quite dry and the chocolate chips were horrible. 6 hours later, at 6:55 I woke up. So not only could I not finish work on my paper, but I also missed my most difficult class and have still not found any real comfort food. As my mother is fond of saying, CRAP! I have no idea how I am going to get through the rest of this semester. On the plus side, Coco Pops were buy one get one half off. Of course I got two, but even these little delicious bits of rice cereal and chocolate remind me more of cardboard then of home. 

This is not to say that every day has been quite as bad as this one. November 1st was probably the best day that I have had in Europe to date. This was the day that I attended the largest Chocolate expo in the world. Selon du Chocolate! It was wonderful. 12 euros to spend the day eating free samples of chocolate. If only everyday could be a chocolate expo day, I think I would be a much happier person. Not only that, but it is much easier for me to make a fool of myself in French when I am nibbling world class desserts. By the way, a small tip that has changed my life, don’t just order regular hot chocolate, always order chocolate ancien. It is literally just melted chocolate with some sort of cream and it is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. On that happy memory, I will conclude. Even when losing a fight, your bound to get a good hit in now and then.

Look out, its gonna be another long one. I’m just warning all in advance.

Round 2 ended decently enough. A brief commercial break in the middle of October gave me much needed time to get out of Paris for awhile. I headed to Barcelona with a couple of other girls. Insert cheesy commercial music here. “If you are looking for pleasant beaches with clinically insane yet hilariously odd fat half-naked men, imaginative architecture, friendly citizens, color in people’s wardrobe, clean metro stations that do not smell like any form of human waste, food with lots of sugar, SANGRIA, flamenco dancers, cheap nightclubs, cheap everything….then come to Barcelona and see what we have in store for you!” It was really a great time. I particularly enjoyed the Gaudi architecture. His cathedral and apartments were amazing. I definitely need to go back to see his garden. Who knows, I might even just decide to learn Spanish and transfer to Barcelona. They did host the World Equestrian Games in 2002 (I think it was 2002), so that obviously means the city is a world class destination. At any rate I loved my little weekend vacation, but returning to the real world was not quite as pleasant. For anyone who has seen Pans Labyrinth, its a similar feeling to being in the world of Pan. It is a bit bizarre, a bit scary, yet nevertheless exciting and wonderful. Then  you crawl back out of the weird door in the wall, or disembark a plane onto a cold and rainy tarmac. The real world is harsh, cold, boring and draining all at the same time, and you haven’t even made it out of the airport yet. You want to return to the dream world but the door is sealed, or ticket prices have just jumped exponentially and you will have just wasted $10,000 if you just leave for another city. You are trapped in “the real world” and “the real world” takes no time in reminding you who is boss. “Ding!” the commercial break is over and “pow” I’m back against the ropes.

So much for keeping those hands up, I was not expecting such a low blow. Of course immediately after returning from Barcelona I lost my French bank card. As much as I would like to preserve what little of my pride is left, I probably lost it somewhere (and no I have no idea where, if I did I would not be saying this right now). Just when I though I had all my ducks lined up, one has to be a smarty pants and go swim in the lake instead of sitting on the bank with all the other ducks. Damn individuality. At any rate, this meant another trip to the bank to cancel the card, another two weeks waiting to get a new card, another two weeks of carrying around cash (with my luck I hate carrying around cash…who knows when another duck will fly away) (side note to my side note- that was supposed to be a joke but I know no one will get it so I’m just going to explain it. Male ducks sometimes have green heads, the American dollar is green, and the word for theft in French is the same as to fly….get it…hahaha. Lame, I know, oh well.), another two weeks high conversion rates and extra credit card fees. Ah Paris, how I missed you. That was okay though. I kept myself occupied watching internet T.V. as yes, you guessed it, the big bright spot of October, France Telecom arrived! I finally have internet. Of course I have the bill to go with it, but at this point I would have payed anything for at home contact with the outside world. The gentleman from France Telecom were actually very nice. One has a brother who lives in Arizona. I had to explain to him that Michigan and Arizona are quite faraway. I asked him if his brother enjoyed speaking Spanish. He didn’t understand. I guess his brother didn’t fill him in on the controversy surrounding American linguistic politics. Or maybe he just lives in a gated community? Although the French track record of using walls to keep others out is not all that great. Oh well maybe he took some hard learned lessons from the past and built a wall completely surrounding his enclave, because you just can’t trust natural barriers like you used to. 

So now that I have the internet I have been able to skype my dog (for the record Stitch wants nothing to do with a talking computer…I guess in his case out of sight out of mind…he would rather watch the squirrels out the window…they are more interesting), pretend to do homework, and catch up on all the American T.V. shows that I have missed out on. It has also provided me with an excellent excuse to resume my hermit-like lifestyle. Its an addiction really. I have an addiction. Actually I should do this the right way (at least its how they did it on Dexter), “Hello, my name is Danielle and I am an addict. Rather then use my time productively to work, study, or even interact with other human beings, I waste hours watching mind-numbing TV shows and movies that instead of contribute to the quality of my life, contribute to the drop of my overall IQ.” Okay, I’ve identified the problem. Perhaps I should think about getting a sponsor? Hmm, that might actually require talking to people. I’m sure I can find a movie that addresses this topic.

Okay all you overly judgmental people, I know, its sad, its pathetic really. Here I am in PARIS, and I’m sitting in my tiny apartment doing nothing. I don’t blame you for judging me. I would judge me. I do judge me. But I also know me. This is a coping mechanism for me. Despite my optimism at the end of my last post, things are still a bit difficult to handle. Especially now, at the end of October. I wrote before that I lost my horse Buddy at the end of September. I already said how important he was to me so I won’t go into all that again. The end of October and Halloween has always been my favorite time of year because not do I love dressing up on Halloween, and seeing the leaves change, but this was the time that I first got Buddy. I brought him home on October 25, 2000. Our first trail ride was on Halloween, it was a beautiful Indian summer day. The leaves were changing, there were so many colors, it was a wonderful experience even despite the fact he nearly dumped me as he jumped out of the way of I still don’t know what. Good times. While memories like these make me laugh, they also make me want to cry. I don’t, usually. Mostly because its a bit awkward trying to explain to people I just met why I am still so depressed a month after my horse died. Its easier to just stay home and watch some mind-numbing romcom while consuming massive amounts of cereal. The path of least resistance my friends.

At any rate I did go to at least one party. Kind of. I had the great idea to make caramel apples and rice crispy treats to bring. At least I wanted to try and make it taste like an American Halloween. That did not turn out as well as I would have liked. I burned the rice crispy treats (don’t ask) and caramel here does not taste like the caramel at home. By the time I finished the food was somewhat edible and I was running late. The party was short, slightly awkward for me (for future reference to anyone who might actually still be reading this, absolutely no normal person sounds good singing the American national anthem, especially someone who tends to forget lyrics when completely embarrassed), but fun. The other guests were troopers and actually ate my food. They even said they liked it, although I suspect they were just being nice. At any rate, I feel like its time to wrap up this post as I just realized how long and largely incoherent this rant has become. So to conclude. Paris is back to kicking my ass and frankly at the moment I’m too dazed to even care.

Round 2. Ding.

I commend you if you have actually returned to read more after the torrential rant that was my first post. I will try to be briefer this time. My second month in Paris, or round 2 as I have called it, has happily been an improvement over round 1. An improvement in the sense that Nikita Khruschev was an improvement over Stalin.
Mass murders are no longer taking place, but your still living in Soviet Russia. ( Yes, I am making a capitalist assumption that Soviet Russia was not a nice place to live…sorry if your one of the elite Russian communists who enjoyed this era, this analogy does obviously not work for you.) Things in Paris have gotten easier now that my opponent is slowly tiring and I have finally learned to keep my hands up. In other words, most of my administrative paperwork is finished and I have just accepted that for everything that has not been finished, it will be before I leave. I’m rolling with the punches as they say.

For example, yesterday I patiently spent the afternoon waiting for a technician from France Telecom to arrive to activate my phone line. A seemingly trivial task, however it is the keystone in my epic quest to get internet service in my apartment. Needless to say the technician never arrived and I missed a class and wasted an entire afternoon. Which would not have even been that bad if Sciences Po did not have a strict attendance policy that expels you from a course if you have three absences. Lets just say I will not be missing anymore French classes for the rest of the semester. Perhaps missing class last week to help an old American couple in the laundry mat was not the best decision. However, I really feel like that was a zero-sum situation. There was no way I could have won that game. Miss class or be a horrible person. I decided I already have enough bad luck and I don’t need karma against me too! At any rate my fingers are crossed that I will be online by Monday night. 

As for coming to France to improve my French, it has not been the immersion experience that I imagined. I have come to view the French language and those who speak it well, as an exclusive club. Like in elementary school when all the “popular” kids would make clubs that no one else was allowed to join. You felt so excluded, but what could you do, you couldn’t force them to let you in. The usual response, at least in my school, was for everyone else to form their own clubs. Things have not changed. All the “popular” kids are speaking French and the rest of us are stuck with our native languages. Especially speaking English, my language club is not exclusive at all. It seems like everyone belongs. Rather then listen to me butcher their language, most people would just rather speak to me in English. While this definitely easier for me, it does not help me at all. Selfish American that I am, I really want to improve my French at the expense of the auditory aesthetics of the French people. What is worse is that this is not even my only selfish reason for wanting to speak French. I really hate being a hypocrite.

Pardon my politics

A few weeks ago I was having a conversation with some French students about the U.S., in English of course. They had traveled around the U.S. a bit and they were asking me about some of the major issues in the U.S. One question that came up was immigration. What did I think about Mexican immigrants. I gave my usual answer, I am not against immigration as long as they pay for the governmental services that they receive and so long as they learn English. I firmly believe that the foundation of America is the integration of many different peoples and cultures into one American body and that in order to do this you need to learn English. I am not advocating forgetting your family’s native tongue. In fact I think everyone should be bilingual or at least able to speak a second language. I just believe that the national language of America should be English. The example I always use is that if I go to another country I will speak their language, so if someone comes to my country they should speak the language of the land. Okay, there are about a million other issues and opinions on this subject that I cannot go into now. My view is actually more nuanced then this but to explain it would take way more time then I have right now. Anyway, the point being, I realized I am not doing this. I have come to another country and I am not speaking their language. Case in point, I was having this conversation in France in English. How much more arrogant could I have been? However, as usual it was not until afterward that I really thought about that. Suffice it to say I now have a much better perspective on how difficult it is to learn another language, even if your in a country that speaks that language.

So now I feel like Turkey. I really want to fit in with everyone, but no matter how hard I try I just can’t seem to do it. I keep getting reassurances, French people keep telling me that I will get it, I will be fluent by the end of the year. I will get that exclusive membership. However negotiations seemed to have stalled. I am trying to make the necessary changes, I try to speak in French, to study the language. In someways I have improved. My comprehension has gotten better, I can understand when people speak and I finally feel confident reading the newspaper. However when it I have to actually use the language, when I have to create something. Lets just say I have always been better at destroying things then creating them.

BUT…I am not giving up hope. (sometimes telling myself this is one of the only ways I can be sure that I don’t get on the next plane home) When I was a kid I never really cared if I was in the cool kids group or not because I usually thought the “cool” kids were idiots. (Usually I was right, they were idiots. I saw their report cards). However regardless of my occasional frustrations with France, the French language, and French people, it really is a club I would love to join. Hopefully if I knock enough, eventually they will let me in.

Round 2 is not yet over, while it may not be considered a complete win for me, so far it has not been a complete loss either. I think I am learning how to hold my own. Until then I am clinging to some very wise advice, you may know them as the 5 D’s… dodge, dive, dip, duck and..dodge.