Life Update...kinda sorta...

I should've written last week when I got back from the most incredible vacation ever in Spain/ the Cote d'Azur. Or when I skyped with my parents and saw a new background in the video screen, because they had moved houses now.

I should've written at any time during this week when my host mom's super cute grandkids came to visit for the week, from Israel, and how they were loud and spoke a mixture of French and Hebrew and and I loved them dearly. They left this morning.

Or I should've written when our program's director said it's ok, I don't have to continue 6 classes, 4 of which were at Sweet Briar, just in case the university strikes continue all semester. My two Parisian university classes have still been going on despite the strike, so it's highly unlikely they'll just stop right now.

Or I should've written about 'Orly's crazy adventures with international men, romantic and otherwise' (including the crazy Spanish guys in Valencia who gave Inci and I drinks, then ate half of our dinner, sang songs in Spanish about the facist gov't on the way to the free Franz Ferdinand concert, and somehow broke a pane of glass on the bus and magically disappeared like a puff of smoke).

The point is, I've been up to a LOT lately. Between vacation and schoolwork and life, my parents moving (and getting a DOG, which came with the new house... WTF?! We are not dog people...) and friends visiting, missing the sun and sangria of Spain, babysitting the host-grand-kids, partying all weekend, learning vulgar French phrases (I will explain in just a minute) and playing wine-pong and wine-flip-cup with French people, I have not had much time to relax, let alone post on the blog.

Other bloggers-- does this ever happen to you, where you have a small, ordinarily insignificant experience, but you think about it a lot, and you want to blog about it, to tell the world and be like "Hey world, I just had some great insight into the way the French society/language/culture/people/food/music/films work, and I think you should know about it to"? And then you sit down at your computer... and you can't think about what it is you wanted to say. Is this bloggers' block, or something?

update: Oh, well here's one thing-- I love how INCREDIBLY CHILL my host parents are. Unlike my real parents (who I love dearly but as we all know are super overprotective), mes parents d'accueil encourage me to go out, telling me "profite de ta vie" ("enjoy your life", basically). Last night was a perfect example. I had dinner with friends, and then came home around 9. My host dad goes "what? it's Saturday night! You're not staying in are you?" and I say "No no I'm going to a friend's party in an hour, I was just out to dinner and I'm relaxing for a bit." "Oh, good," he says "I was worried about you there for a moment. I was worried you weren't enjoying your life." Then I came home at 5:45 this morning, went to bed, and when I woke up around noon, my host mom just mildly commented "you came home really early in the morning, didn't you?" No tone of reprimand, no teasing even, just a straight-up comment. "Well, it was a really good party, and we just kinda waited for the metro to start up again" I responded. "Right right, tu as raison, bon, c'est super." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is SUPER to my host parents that I went to a really good party and saved money by waiting to take the metro home.

And this is why I love Paris.

Now, as promised, some great vulgar French phrases--

• If you want to say "he's a player/womanizer/ladies man"-- il est un chaud lapin-- literally, He is a hot rabbit.
• 'I haven't gotten laid in a while'= J'ai traverse le desert-- literally, I have traveled through the desert.
• 'I had a one night stand'--Je suis passe(e) a la casserole--literally, I have passed the casserole
• 'Go fuck yourself up the ass'--Va te faire enculer
• 'fuck buddy'--copain/copine a baise
  

I'll leave it at that, and post a real post soon. Just felt like a random, incoherent update today, that's all.

Semester 2 is a bit crazier

After a really fun (and freezing!) winter break, it was finally time to start up classes again. Parisian university and Sweet Briar College Junior Year in France: round 2. With some changes...

Number one was a change in campus. After giving it much thought, I decided to study at Paris 3-- Sorbonne Nouvelle this semester (instead of Paris 7). I don't need to go into the long story, but the short story is, they have much better cinema classes at Paris 3. It's also located in the Latin Quarter (the 5th, to be precise, right around the corner from the cute Rue Moufftard), and not in the new, modern, ugly quarter of the 13th. I'm also taking two SBC classes this semester-- History of Paris through its Monuments, and Art History (at the Louvre and Musee d'Orsay). Basically I'm learning how to become a professional tour guide of Paris.

Of course, spending a year doing a study abroad program means meeting the new semestriels. In general, I really like the newbies. They're really nice, and adorably enthousiastic. The important shock to me, however, was their level of French. Some of them are quite good, don't get me wrong, but many of them work very hard to put a sentence together. It wasn't until I heard these newbies speak French that I realized how far I have come in my French-speaking abilities. Those new semestriels, they were ME last semester. Terrified to speak French, to make an error, to open my mouth knowing no matter how hard I would try, the Parisians would reply in English. I've been focusing so much on how much I still have to learn (i.e. A LOT!!!!!!) that I never took a moment to look back on how far I've come!

And finally, number three, and this is really the most interesting, is the university strike. There are a few things the French are very well-known for (wine, cheese, the Eiffel Tower, berets, Napoleon...), and going on strike is one of them. A few weeks ago, basically all of France staged a huge manifestation (demonstration) at Bastille, just around the corner from me. I couldn't miss 'le grand manif', so while my host mom watched on TV, I went outside and got myself right in the thick of things. I started joining in chants, marching with whichever group happened to be next to me at the moment. That was all very nice and fun, but now these strikes are getting problematic.

For reasons I won't get into, the universities have decided to go on strike (it has to do with what one has to do to become a professor... but anyway), and are all technically shut down. It's really up to the professors whether or not they want to give class or strike, and sometimes the students will be out demonstrating, and so there's no point for the professors to give class, even if they want to. This is what happened to me last Tuesday. I exited the metro just in time to see a large manif of students carrying banners and chanting. It was fun to watch, but then I ran off to class, only to find one student who was nice enough to stick around and tell anyone who showed up that the professor found it necessary to cancel class today, thanks to the demonstration. Oh, and next week's class in canceled as well. At least I sortof have class, though. Friends at Paris 7 (my university from last semester) just don't have class at all, basically, nor do the students of Paris 4. SBC students are scrambling to sign up for more SBC classes, or Institut Catholique classes-- we need our study abroad credits, dammit!!! And the poor French students need to graduate on time.

Tonight some friends and I are going to a school gala/Discobitch concert at the Aquarium. Our group is going to be one French guy who actually GOES to this school, and 5 American girls. Heh. Pimp much, Pierre? I'm excited to get all dressed up, I'm excited to be at the Aquarium, I'm excited to see Discobitch perform (I know none of you know who Discobitch is, but just know this: she sings the IT song of Fall 2008 in France, 'C'est beau la bourgeoisie.' So this is a big deal!), I'm just THRILLED in general. Fun times ahead!

Video Update Part 2

I really am lazy with these videos, I apologize.
First, a short video of the weekend I spent with Mo in Brussels and Antwerp in November. It's not cool or anything, but, if you've ever wanted to know what to see or do in these two cities, check it out. It's weird, I MUCH preferred Antwerp, but you wouldn't know that in looking at this video. I couldn't capture that je ne sais quoi aspect about the lovely town... but just know that Antwerp is really great, and it shouldn't be overlooked on a journey around Europe.


Now video number two-- this one is a gem. This is almost 10 minutes of clips from the Idan Raichel Project concert in Antwerp that weekend. It was INCREDIBLE. If you are not moved by the group's music, then, well, I just don't think I can respect you anymore. That's harsh, yes, but give it a listen. I think you'll like it. One of the members gets really interesting around 6:20 and 7:00. I REALLY want the group's new CD, but it's only on sale in Israel. Hmmm...


Other than that, things are good here. I had a CRAZY night out with 7 French friends on Saturday. It was a "soiree filles", or girls' night out, and we stayed out all night clubbing. I have also realized that my French friends all look like models, and I really shouldn't take pictures with them.

There's some crazy windstorm going on now, and I hope it passes soon. In the meantime, I should get to sleep. I'll write more about second semester in Paris another time.

I attended an haute couture show

To-do list for January 26:
- send check for me and my friends to attend the Ball de l'ecole polytechnique at the Opera Garnier. Check.
- pick up final papers from stupid class last semester. Check.
- Attend my first class at my new university, Paris 3. Check.
- Stalk haute couture fashion shows. Check.
---- get into one of the haute couture fashion shows. Checkity check check check. Someone up there likes me.

Today, my friend Taylor and I decided to start the haute couture fashion show week stalking by passing by the Ecole de Beaux-Arts and seeing if we could get into the show of a smaller haute couture designer, Christophe Josse. Taylor had miraculously gotten into the show of a smaller designer in this exact same venue during fall pret-a-porter fashion week, but we didn't think it would really work this time, during haute couture week. But whatever, it was worth a try. If they didn't let us in, it didn't matter, because we didn't know anyone, and we'd never see them again. (although actually, i've recently discovered, several times, that Paris is a lot smaller than one thinks, and you run into people you know all the time. But that's another story...)

So we go to the standing line, where definitely everyone but us is holding invites. I really don't think this is going to work, but, lo and behold, 45 minutes later (they ALWAYS start 45 minutes late), the bouncers just start letting people in. Taylor and I join in the chic frenzy, and, voila. WE'RE IN! A magazine is shoved in our face, a smiling woman is pointing us in the direction of where we can sit, which is RIGHT BY THE END OF THE CATWALK!, and we get to look over elegant programs as we wait.

The show starts, and the clothes this man presents are magnificent. He doesn't do crazy over the top haute couture, but instead more simplified designs with bold colors and lots of wings or billows or other things (I have a limited fashion vocabulary). Then, at the end, the music changed, the lights dimmed, and a model in a GORGEOUS white 'wedding dress' (much skimpier than your normal dress, but gorgeous nonetheless) steps onto the runway. She has attitude. She's like "I know I'm wearing the hottest dress on the runway, betches." People start clapping. Eventually the entire collection comes out, followed by the (attractive) designer himself. And, voila, after about 10 minutes, the whole show is over. I keep playing it over and over in my head. It was like a dream sequence. It was every american girl in Paris's dream. And it was fantastic. And I'm too tired to say more. I start karate tomorrow... in French... wish me luck!

appreciating my neighborhood and french traditions

First of all, just got back from Italy yesterday, which was spectacular! Went to Florence and Rome with my good Wellesley friend Mohona. We had some crazy adventures, some involving some VERY attractive men (*swoon*), and saw some of the most incredible sights of my life (RUINS! haha)... but I'll put up a video eventually. That's not what this post is about. Let's get back to Parisian life...

I had to go pick up something from my dad's best friend's sister-in-law at a place just 10 minutes from my house today. 10 minutes from my house, but in an area I had never been to. The whole time walking there, I was fascinated-- there's SO MUCH in my quartier (neighborhood) that I had never noticed before. I passed two hookah bars, an awesome looking cafe (au chat noir. 'in the black cat.' I think this is going to be my new favorite cafe. seriously.), ethnic restaurants, boutiques, a mosque, workshops, everything! It's a pity that it took me until January to discover more of my neighborhood, because quite frankly, IT'S AWESOME! I love the 11th arrondissement. I love Oberkampf (my street), with its boutiques and bars and clubs that are well-known throughout Paris. And now I sit here and ask myself, why is it that I will gladly get lost in the Marais or the Latin Quarter and discover what those ancient streets have to hold, but I never took a moment to get lost in my own freaking neighborhood? If it weren't for the projected rain this weekend, I would totally go wandering. I guess I'll have to wait till next week...

I also want to write about the galette du rois, a cute French cake/tradition that doesn't exist in the States. For Epiphany, which is on my birthday, the 6th, French people traditionally eat this 'cake of kings.' It has something to do with the three kings and Jesus (that's why you eat in on Epiphany), but every French person, no matter their religion, enjoyes and eats this cake (which is usually an almond cake, but some other varities exist) throughout the month. There is a whole process to eating this cake, hence why I refer to it as a cake/tradition. First of all, the youngest person in the room randomly assigns the pieces of cake to the people in the room. This is because the youngst is considred the most innocent, or the most naive, and therefore won't be biased in dolling out the pieces. Hidden inside the cake is a tiny little figurine thing (really tiny. I'm surprised people don't swallow it), often a piece of the nativity scene (the first time I ate it, there was a little cow inside...), but it could be anything really. Whoever finds the little thing (cow, king, whatever) as they're eating the cake become the king or queen, and gets to wear a little crown that comes with the cake. Sometimes, two crowns come with the cake, so that the king gets to pick a queen (or vice versa). And... that's about it, you win the satisfaction of wearing a crown and being lucky! But the French love it. Some French friends commented on how sad they were that they never succeeded in become king or queen-- not once in their life. Quel dommage! The galette du rois is eaten all during the month of January, and you basically can't find it any other month of the year. So, obviously, I'm enjoying it while I can... yum...

joy

I just had a wonderful birthday. Why? Because the friends I celebrated with were great people. Truly magnificent people. They're not my back home friends, but at this moment, I didn't care, because they made my birthday spectacular. My host parents even cooked my a special dinner and bought cake and Berthillon ice cream, and got me flowers, and my parents sent me flowers (wow! not typical for them), and my friends treated me to everything... I was so touched. These people I was with today, they were all spectacular and fun and made me so happy. I don't care about my sickness, the cold, the fact that EVERYONE was sick or on vacation or studying for finals. All I care about was that in the end, I was truly blessed, and happy, and I will now go to sleep at 3am with happy happy thoughts of strawberry shots, meeting more random French guys, falafel, cake, chilling with friends, discussing boys, a-sexuality, wearing the pants, asses, boobs, and all that's in between...

really, that's all. i just wanted to confess to the world how content i am at this moment. thank you everyone for calls and emails and facebooking and hanging out. je vous aime vraiment. ahhhhhhhh ok je suis fatiguee, je dois dormir! (i love you all truly. ahhh ok i'm tired, i should sleep!)

i'm 21, wooooooooah

hold on cuz the world will turn if you're ready or not

Yesterday I woke up sick. Today it's snowing in Paris (it rarely snows in Paris). Tomorrow is my 21st birthday. It is projected to be 25 degrees in Paris tomorrow. It usually doesn't go below 30.

what does this all mean? I don't know. Yesterday I thought it meant that the world was out to get me. Who gets sick 2 days before their 21st? That sounds like some kind of punishment, like the grown-up version of getting coal from Santa in your stocking. "Orly, you've been a bad girl this year. No wild debauchery for you come your 21st!" Ouch Santa. Wait, wtf, I don't even believe in you...

I was also annoyed because of this whole cold birthday thing. Well, not just that. Cold birthday during vacation for half my friends and finals for the other half. That means barely anyone can come celebrate my bday with me--either they're home or they're studying. That, however, would be the same case in the States, where my bday falls before the large majority of my friends, and I would have been chilling at a bar or a club with only those who had fake IDs. However, it would not be 25 degrees in LA. 25 degrees is COLD ladies and gentlemen. That's below freezing. That means that any body part not covered in about 4 layers will freeze. Oh how joyous this will be... not.

But then I woke up today and two amazing things happened: 1) I'm feeling a lot better! Not perfect, but better. So I decided NOT to call up the doctor this morning, continue my regime of napping and hot water with lemon and honey (for my poor throat), and hope for the best for tomorrow. and 2) DID I MENTION IT'S SNOWING IN PARIS?!?!?! not like 5 minutes of powder like last time, no no, real snow! And there's NOTHING, NOTHING that makes me happier than snow (ok, that's a lie, but I forget about anything else that could make me happier when I see snow).

Snow + feeling better= optimism. So what if I'll be cold? So what if I won't be in tip-top shape? January 6 is just a day. It's the first day of my 21st year, and I'll have 364 other days to make 21 special.

I'll still try and see how long I can last at a bar and club until I pass out from exhaustion, or coughing, however...

(video updates coming up soon, I promise. I'm lazy.)