When in Paris..

Today was Veterans day, so I got the day off. I went from no plans, to an exciting day with two girls from class I've not hung out with before. We met in front of Notre Dame and on a whim went up it! Because when in Paris...why not? We have to at some point! We all got in for free with our student cards. HOLLER. And then we climbed 387 steps. It was sunny and simply put: gorgeous.

Waiting in line took awhile though. We definitely sat in one spot for 20 minutes. But we we were lucky enough to have stomach curdling laughter because this man was going back and forth across the street putting on a mini show. He was dressed in pilot clothes, funny looking goggles and a scarf. He spoke English. He captured our attention cause he would walk behind people and mimic them until they realized! He'd pretend to take photos just like the tourists, and once they realized they were being mimicked, they'd laugh and shake the mans hand and were on their way. Once he shouted, "Ladies and gentleman! This is my wife!" and offered his arm to escort a woman passing by. She went with it and also got a laugh. There was maybe ONE person out of all the people he did these little pranks to who absolutely ignored him, the rest laughed and moved on. He eventually had all of us in line for Notre Dame watching, and laughing, anddddd he even put his goggles down on his face and started directing the traffic!! Or he'd J-walk in front of a taxi and in the most dramatic slow motion steps ever, walk across the street. The car didn't even honk, just waited for him to pass. They were probably dying of laughter as well.  My favorite time was when he knelt down as a cute old lady was slowly walking by, and he shouted "Maman!!" and then she hugged him. Another favorite moment, he was following a pigeon! And he pretended to be walking it on a leash. "Thiis is really my pigeon, I'm not kidding!" And finally he "handed" a woman the "leash" and she pretended to walk it too. A black guy walked by: "Ladies and gentleman! Presenting, President Obama!" Since we were watching for awhile, he repeated some of the same stuff.. And he tried doing the "Maman!" to an old lady again, but she just ignored him and walked by, which made him sad and he said "That's my mom... :( "  He continued on for awhile, leading his choir in birthday song, or other silly things. Then shook hands with those of us in line, and put his hat out saying the money would be for pilot school. You couldn't just not give a guy like that your change for helping time pass in such an entertaining way. Best part of the day. Bravo sir, you get a 10 for creativity. 

The view from the top of Notre Dame was lovely! And you could REALLY see that Sacre Cœur is sitting on Paris' only hilltop. I need to make my way there soon. I decided when I'm rich I'm going to buy a corner of the top bit of Notre Dame so I can read up there with that view.

Afterward we stopped at Shakespeare and Co. and listened to gorgeous piano music upstairs, while pouring over the many books. We then headed to a cafe on the corner and ordered banane avec chocolate crêpes and delicious chocolat chaud that was finished much too quickly. Later the most delicious panini from right by my house was consumed by the Seine River. The Eiffel Tower sparkled on the hour behind us, Bateaux Mouches sparkled in front of us, boats passed by, and the new ferris wheel put up for the holidays to the right beamed with light as well. SO MUCH MAGIC! I'm in love with this place. 

I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me

The evolution of dance covers many different styles, but dance has always been a big part of who we are as humans...until today.

So it seems to me anyway. Unless you're enrolled in a dance school program, competing with the stars on television, traveling the world with a team, or watchingfrom the audience, dance isn't much a part of anybody's life anymore! WHY is that? I was walking along the Seine River one night, expecting a *midnight in paris* kind of romantic feel, and while there was plenty of that coming from dates with picnics and couples dangling their legs off the river edge, there was also a lot of modern stuff that totally distracted from that charm. Mostly people were drinking at bars and listening to loud music. The further you walked from the city, the quieter it got, but still I passed under a bridge to find a "dance" with loud music, flashy lights, a disco ball, and a complete lack of dancing. Either they rocked back and forth on their heels a little bit while shouting over the music to talk to someone next to them with a drink in hand, or they were grinding their booty all over whoever was closest. Why is this the recurring cultural norm?

I LONG for a time when girls wore big skirts and red lipstick, and could just go swing or do the Lindy to a live band to have a good time. Men were gentleman! I'm not saying that chivalry is dead or that men have reformed into apes, but have you noticed how different boys are in black and white films made 70 years ago than they are today? Guys seemed to have more manners back then, cared about protecting women and made sure they got them home at a respectable hour. I don't know, I didn't actually live back then. Maybe boys haven't changed and it was just Hollywood being very convincing. Back to my point, I WANT TO GO DANCE! I dreamt last night that I had a 1950's recreation night and people dressed up to play the roll, and it was awesome! However I know that if I tried that kind of thing in real life, maybe only a handful of people would do it, maybe they'd try and dance like how we used to, but probably not. At both of my sisters weddings, I noted that while there's a time at the reception to dance, people are much too shy to actually go dance unless they're with a S/O during a slow song that they can comfortably sway back and forth to. You know, less is more ...or something. Even at my sister/brother-in-law's reception held in a dance studio that's so much a part of their life, the dance floor was still sparse and only those who have been taught the moves felt comfortable enough to go dance them. 

It just makes me sad. Dancing used to be a way of forgetting the troubles, having a nice evening, falling in love, being in a good atmosphere with uplifting music. Now, the formal dances that kids grow up knowing are a high school prom where girls dress up in a tight, low cut piece of material they deem appropriate and even beautiful. It's all about getting the boys attention with their body, and not about twirling a pretty skirt and feeling feminine. Classy.

I'll be done now. There's no way to change this problem in this kind of a world. But I'm optimistic about Heaven. I imagine the dances will be beyond compare.

Mercredi 7 Octobre 2014

I used a second blanket on my bed last night. You know what that means! Autumn! I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof (a pleasure not everyone in this building gets to hear, seeing as I'm the only one top floor) and started the day with a steamy shower. Today is Mercredi (Wednesday) which means it's a full day with the kiddos, taking them to and from tennis lessons, so I'm so glad to have had my Hunter rainboots, my little red umbrella, and warm infinity scarf knit by Mesa. The orange leaves are piling up along the sidewalks, and the wind blows your hair crazy. I'm in love.

For dinner tonight I cooked the Hannah soup. (My host mother made up the soup, taught me the recipe, and since I really just dig the autumny smells and goodness that came from making it, she named it after me.) I steamed cauliflower, put this creamy goodness over it (that I couldn't really describe to you cause the package is all in French!) and put tons of cheese on top. It's about to go in the oven and then I can eat that deliciousness with my soup. Cheese is always a side to everything, THANK GOODNESS. One of the boys I watch is playing the piano right now, and he's really good. Next on the agenda is book a flight to Ireland for over my break coming up. 

I just can't help but feel good tonight.

it's not always rainbows and butterflies

Every day is hard. I typically wake up not ready for another day of struggling. Struggling to buy groceries, struggling to have simple conversations, struggling to make food the french way, struggling to understand the metric system, struggling to know the 24 hour clock, struggles, struggles, struggles!

At some point in every day I want to just give up and come home, go to school like everybody else. But there's been something absolutely amazing in every day that I've been here that just takes my breath away, so whenever I have the thought of coming home, I want to slap myself for thinking it. Especially cause I've only been here one small week! It's not even that I'm homesick; It's the language barrier. Everyone speaks so fast that I just can't picture myself ever being able to understand it. 

But the thing I have to remember (this post is really more for me than for you) is that if I gave up and came home, I know I'd hate it. I'd hate being there. I'd hate knowing I was a quitter. I'd hate knowing I wasted a once in a lifetime opportunity full of experienecs and could-have-beens. I'd regret it my whole life long. So I'm not going to do that. No matter how lonely I feel or how unable I am to communicate. In the end, it's only 10 months of my life here, so I'm just going to try and make the most of it.  And if I can make it here, then I'll be able to make it anywhere.  

odeurs

Out of all the technology in the world, there's still no way for me to transport the smells I'm smelling! So hopefully my words will be an adequate source to give you at the very least an idea of what it's like here.

Paris smells of smoke. Everyone smokes, and they smoke everywhere. Even on their motorcycles in traffic! But at night time with the window cracked open, the trees with their orange leaves falling to the ground in the rain, and the smells of dinner coming together, you just have to take a step back and breathe it all in. Malo (one of those boys I'm watching) was practicing his [lovely] piano while I prepared the steamed green beans (using a "cocotte minute" pot which is trés formidable) ravioli, raisins (grapes), and compte cheese. It was so relaxing after a long day full of walking. (Which by the way, you do A LOT of.)

When I walk to pick up Eloi from school, I pass many crêperies, street markets, cafés, and boulangeries. The smells are SENSATIONAL. The French have a special talent of making food look, smell, sound, and feel absolutely delicious before actually having eating it! It's wonderful. And awful.. Who knew I'd pick up a bread addiction so quickly? And ALWAYS be hungry? <<Just kidding. That one isn't really new.>>

As I was saying. I no longer feel that I'll die from second hand smoke, because there are so many more smells than just that one. Like the one I smelled on the Seine River in the midday fog and sun--Ugh, I can't even describe it!  But there's so much to take in and enjoy, and it's just hitting me that this isn't a vacation. I live here, and I get to see Paris in all the seasons. I am simply overwhelmed with happiness.

A doodle I doodled while doodling earlier. :)

   

First Weekend in Paris

I live 75 steps up the staircase in a small studio in Paris, swallowed up by two views  of tall buildings on either side of me. I arrived here by way of airplane, then the TGV train down from Germany, with my big brother. I hope I never forget the moment Ryan told me to look out my taxi window to see the Eiffel Tower poking out of the city. I wanted to cry because it's always been a dream of mine to see it, which is about when I asked Ryan to pinch me incase I was still just dreaming. (He obliged.)

Not only did I get to see it, but I started out this whole new adventure of living in a foreign country by being as touristy as it gets and going to the top! You betcha I hugged that tower. But before we did all that, we had stopped at a café for a bite to eat. As we ate, thick dark clouds rolled in and thunder and lightning flashed. I could HARDLY contain my excitement (Ryan will vouch for that). Audrey Hepburn in one of her movies said that the first thing you do in Paris is find yourself an honest to goodness rain. I was lucky enough to get that the first day! Thanks Audrey.

Before bed, Ryan and I put on a Lush face mask. My brother is awesome in that way. My first morning we took the métro to the Champs Élysées and ate at Ladurée. They're famous first for their tea, and also their french toast. I also enjoyed my first pain du chocolat. For lack of a better word, it all was amazeballs. Ryan took the next train back to his home, and I took the métro back to where I needed to be, ALL BY MYSELF. Later I discovered my first Parisian chocolat et fraise glace on one of those sweet double scoop cones you see in the movies. Then I was introduced by my au pair host to the man in the flower shop who spoke some English, and was very nice to me. Afterward, I was told she was surprised he was so nice to me because he's usually a grouch to everyone. I was called special. I hope so!

French is beautiful. I've barely studied it over the years, but I can look at things and remember the name for it. (e.g. "bee" is "abeille") Or as I hear conversations, sentences sort've make sense. I'm even dreaming in some French! So it's a start. Back home, I'd have French flashcards and only think of those words as I saw them, but here my brain replays words I've heard and I'm constantly trying to pronounce them correctly in my brain. It's pretty cool. Paris is pretty cool. I am so lucky to be here.

"What are your plans this Fall?"

Hearing this question endlessly makes me realize I have more friends than just my dog. Though it's always fun to talk with people, I for whatever reason freeze up when asked about my future. Not that it's going downhill or anything, but future means growing up and moving on from the comfortable life I've been living. So if I've directed you here, read on my friend.

No, I'm not going to school. But before you give that judging what-in-the-world-is-she-thinking-she's-throwing-her-learning-years-away look, let me finish. I'm not going to school yet. When I was little I wanted to grow up and be Neil Armstrong; I wanted to be the first astronaut to walk on the moon. I also wanted to be taught to figureskate by Kristi Yamaguchi, and in my spare time, serenade people with my musical talents of the harp and flute. Oh yeah, and there was the dream of owning a corner flower shop. I've accomplished NONE of the above, and I certainly don't even know how to arrange store bought flowers in a vase. My interests have bounced all over the place and I don't even know what my 5-year plan looks like. All I know is that right now, I want to travel. I want to live away from home in a completely new place for awhile. Explore on my own before being strapped down by books at a university. 

When I was in Australia, I learned it's common to take a "gap year" which is just that, a year to do SOMETHING inbetween your high school and college careers. So whether it's the "norm" to do that here or not, that's my plan. To make it happen and fulfill my own desires I'm going to go abroad and be an au pair. I've babysat and nannied over the years, I haven't had a kid that's truly hated me, and I still feel like a kid so children and I get along pretty well. So why not?! I'm in the process of finding a family in France to go live with and in exchange of watching their children, I will experience a new culture, a new language, new foods, new sights, a place to call home, and some travel. Am I nervous? Oh I'm scared outta my skin! But at the same time I'm so very anxious-excited that I don't even care about the nerves. I'm hoping that learning the French language so in depth would help me out with getting a minor in French for when I do go to school.

Long story short, It's not the normal. But who cares? I'm ready for some awesome memories! Feel free to stick around and see where I wind up. :)

"I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I'm gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I'm comin' back here to go to college and see what they know. And then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields, I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I'm gonna build bridges a mile long..." -George Bailey 

A Bedtime Story

Somewhere in the library of Hannah is a small red notebook. If you've arrived at the Nicholas Sparks section, you've gone too far. This book lies somewhere between Pride and Prejudice and Harold and the Purple Crayon. Found it yet? Good! Our story starts here.

It was just like any other typical weekend for Hannah—planless. She was much too tired to go to sleep, and much too bored staying awake! She needed something to do. So she flipped to page 3 and found a recipe for "Boyfriend Brownies". She called them that only because she thinks these would be the quick, easiest, and tastiest to make if she happened to have her [imaginary] beau over. 

People (myself included) often resort to gooey brownie mixes. So don't be alarmed when this homemade batter looks thicker than usual. I promise it will be delicious in the oven.

Hannah melted in the sounds of her favorite music, and dreamed of wearing that perfect dress she'd found to a ball. Soon enough, the beeping timer brought her back to reality, and since there's no sense in waiting for brownies to cool (does anyone actually do that?) she served them up with Tahitian vanilla gelato. Nothing fixes a craving like the way hot chocolate and cold vanilla in your mouth does.

And there we have it. Hannah once again slays boredom, and saves her weekend. Pheewww, that was a close one. The End.