French Television

I don't think this will the be only time I will write on this subject. Once I watch more, I will surely come up with new theories on French TV. For the moment, this is what I've gathered.

1. Les informations

The news are the easiest to follow when watching French TV. The announcers articulate their words, talk at a moderate pace, and there are images accompanying what is being said. Plus it's good to understand what is going on in France and the world. As somewhat of a news nerd, I even read the daily headlines of the Wyoming Tribune Eagle online to see what is happening in my home state. (Today's top story is on recycling: when is it good and when is it a nuisance? http://www.wyomingnews.com/articles/2009/01/26/featured_story/01top_01-26-09.txt)

2. Les jeux

French game shows are also rather comprehensible, when they resemble American ones. I've gotten into the habit of catching À prendre ou à laisser (Deal or No Deal) and La roue de la fortune (Wheel of Fortune) on TF1. However, it seems like both the hosts and the contestants are goofier in France than they are in the states. On La roue de la fortune, there is even a dog on the set who just kind of sits there quietly as the short middle-ages host flirts with the women contestants and jokes with tall skanky French version of Vanna White. Je ne comprends pas.

3. Les séries françaises

These are harder to follow because the dialog passes very quickly between the different characters. And of course these series are French, meaning they're trippier and quirkier than American TV series. A popular show apparently is Plus belle la vie on France 3, which seems more like a soap opera than a primetime drama. My host mother described it as "bête", but still watched it anyway.

4. Les séries américaines

Contrary to popular belief, I find American series dubbed in French as one of the hardest things to watch. Growing up a bit hard of hearing, I've developed a dependence on watching people's mouths when they speak. As a result, I have an ability to read lips. Therefore, when watching Friends or Grey's Anatomy on French TV, I get lost in the mélange of the actor's lips speaking English while hearing French instead spit out. It's like I'm "listening" to it in two different languages at the same time, making it difficult to pay attention to one or the other. It's rather unfortunate, especially since dubbed American shows and movies are so popular here.

Photo Editor

It's my final night in Paris. In the midst of packing and preparing for Rennes, I'm not really in the mood write down anything terribly profound or exciting. Instead I thought I would post a few photos that I edited. For my birthday, I received a new touchscreen camera that comes with a feature that resembles a cheap version of Microsoft paint. Finding this fascinating, here are some results of my finished projects. (I must say, most of these were created on the metro.)

Winter in Paris


Martian invasion


Queen Brittany and her demented mignons


Recreation of La Fontaine's fable "The Fox and Raven"


A cuddly African statue

I hope to regain my sanity when I return to the classroom. However, I doubt the university life in France will be as tame as that at St. Olaf.

American in Paris

As everyone in the world knows, we now have President Barack Obama. It's a refreshing and exciting experience to be an American in Paris right now.

At breakfast this morning we were greeted by Pierre, a worker in the hotel who loves St. Olaf students, wearing an Obama t-shirt. Although I find him slightly creepy, I appreciate his generosity and his odd sense of humor. As a loyal Democrat, I also was wearing my own wicked awesome Obama shirt I bought for the election last November. Pierre was ecstatic to see it, saying "Ma belle fille!" Later we took a picture with Pierre, decked out in Obama gear, to capture this solidarity between us Americans and the Frenchman.

Pierre's excitement for Obama is not exceptional in France. Obamamania is just as crazy in Europe as it is in the US. Walking down the streets in Paris, one can see posters and journals plastered with Obama's face. When presenting news stories in class, someone has always shared one about Obama. So it should not be surprising that one of the 3 French public TV stations was airing the live inauguration. As we gathered together to share this monumental moment in American history, we listened to the French commentators on TF1 talk about the event. We saw important French figures wave to the TV screen, including Miss France who demonstrated that she is indeed more intelligent than Miss South Carolina by quoting (in English!) "Yes we can!"

As the "serment" began, we were first entranced by the commentator who quickly translated the Americans' words to a beautiful French. It was also fun watching the subtitles appear on the bottom of the screen during the oaths. However, when Obama began to speak, we all groaned when that same commentator began to turn the President's words into French. It was not because we couldn't understand it, because we very well could, but we wanted to hear Obama. We wanted to hear his assuring and eloquent voice. We wanted to hear the beautiful speech that is supposed to enlighten the spirits of broken Americans and assure us that the time has finally come for change. We wanted to hear our new 44th President.

Despite Obama's audacious voice being smothered by the words of the French commentator, there was a certain romanticism of watching Obama on a TV screen in a hotel in Paris. As cars, motos, and sirens pass by on the street outside, our tiny group of students from a small Lutheran college in Minnesota were able to share a common pride of being American.

Later, visiting a crêpe stand for an evening snack, the man serving us took part in our celebration. "Go Ohbama! Jorge Booosh iz ov-eur!"

Paris Life by Number

Un petit résumé de ma vie en Paris.

1. Petit Écolier: The best cookies ever made with LU's "Le Petit Beurre" biscuits and chocolate. Available at the Monoprix, also comes in dark and white chocolate varieties.

2. Kinder Chocolat: The best chocolate ever made...from Germany. Like the Petit Écolier, also found at the Monoprix. Kinder is kind-er!

3. Coca-Cola: As a Coke addict, you cannot go a day without drinking it. But instead of drinking a 12 oz can to quench your thirst, drink a smaller 15 cl can..."Mini cannette pour les mini soifs!"

4. Student ID Card: Essential if you want to get into any musée at the tarif réduit price. Takes the place of the St. Olaf ID, except it doesn't give you flex dollars for French cafés.

5. Passe NavigGO Découverte: Essential if you want to get on any metro stop within the 2 zones in Paris. But it doesn't let you take the RER to La Défense. We learned that the hard way.

6. Guide Vert: Michelin's Paris guide tells you all you need to know about Paris, in French of course. Also necessary reading material for the Paris Interim course.

7. Glasses: Useful to see things very far away. Also makes you look more studious, if you're not already.

8. Grande Cahier: A means of holding rédactions and polycopies for class. Or also serves as a writing surface.

9. Computer: Important part of life. 2nd to oxygen.

10. Petit Cahier: Small and easy to carry in your purse and take notes of things that interest you. Comes very handy in the Louvre.

11. Pen: See 10.

12. Euros: Allows you to purchase things with great ease. When you have some, people are envious and want it. Caution around metros and crowded areas, they might mysteriously disappear.

L'enfer c'est les autres.

I see dead people. Paris is full of them, they're everywhere.

A few days ago the sun was absent, hiding behind masses of dark gray clouds. Rain in its place, the provided atmosphere was the perfect setting for a visit to some cimitières. At first thought, a visit to a graveyard sounds horrifying and uninteresting. But I've always liked them, seeing the rows of different tombstones and sepulchers, pondering what those people were like before they were buried in the cold earth for eternity.

In Montparnasse, we found the grave of two existentialist writers who wouldn't think about living in a cold damp cemetery for the rest of eternity. Yet I wonder what Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, both figures whom I admire, would think if they saw their tomb covered in flowers and letters from die hard fans.


Another grave that is littered by memorabilia from enamored devotees is that of Oscar Wilde in Père Lachaise. Anyone who has seen Paris, je t'aime would recall the scene of the couple who rediscovers love after the struggle to find this grave. I can sympathize with them, finding anything in Père Lachaise is an act from God. Once we finally found the monument, covered in lipstick from women who foolishly kiss the stone, I felt that I too have a strong affiliation with Oscar.

That photo is for you, Lindsey, since you aren't able to see Oscar Wilde in person.
And also for you, Kris. I'm throwing this picture of me instead of the one of Dorian Gray at you.

French friends

I've decided that I spoil my readers, whoever they may be, with photos. And I don't even take that many photos, so in that sense I am really deceiving you. (Tricky, eh?) But from experience, most people prefer photos. They must be easier to view than large blocks of text.

So to satisfy the present needs of the public, I will share a few more select photos that capture a very small part of my stay in Paris thus far.

(Disclaimer: Readers, beware! Photo content will suddenly diminish when in Rennes.)

Food


While here in Paris, we eat out everyday . Cafés and restaurants in every corner, there is an endless number of places we can visit. Yesterday we had lunch at the Café Metro because we were intrigued by its English menu...but no one unfortunately ordered the Steak axe that came with "French friends."

Wine

When you can get decent wine for 2 or 3 euros a bottle, it's hard not to take advantage of it. The cave in at the Monoprix has a decent selection from which we buy several bottles at a time and drink it with bread and a hunk of Brie. They're not kidding when they associate the French with wine and cheese.

Sex
French culture is a lot more open about sex in general than American culture. For example, museums are full of paintings and photos of naked men and women. But if you really want to see sex in Paris, Pigalle is the place to go. Ever since the days of Bohemia in the 19th century, this part of the city embraced nightlife and idolized prostitutes and cancan dancers, who were at the bottom of society. And of course, the Moulin Rouge was the center of all this excitement.

Warthogs

I stole this picture from Sarah. In a display window in Au Vieux Campeur, a series of outdoor stores right near our hotel, there is a mountain scene with sledders, deer, and of course warthogs. In the very left corner there is one warthog on its side. At first glance, you are horrified because you think it's dead. But once you look at it, it's really giving birth by the presence of smaller warthogs nestled against it. Sure, it makes perfect sense.

Un billet aller-retour, et une autre billet aller pour l'insolite s'il vous plaît

Today we ventured to Versailles. Not quite familiar with the French RER system, it took us about four hours to get to a destination that should have only taken a half hour.

Having already been to Versailles a few times, I didn't think I would find anything new at the château. Unfortunately, I did.


This is a statue of a king. The King of Pop, that is. You guessed it, awkwardly sitting in the Salle de Venus is Michael Jackson and his monkey, Bubbles. Avez-vous peur, non? That didn't nearly upset me as much as the Hoover vacuum display in the queen's antechambre.


As someone who has a deep appreciation for art and history, I was repulsed to find Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun's, an artist I dearly respect, famous portrait of Marie Antoinette in a beautiful room obstructed by 20th-century cleaning machines. My loathing for tourism has only deepened.

On the bright side, I unknowingly took an illegal photo of a list of signatures from the Tennis Court Oath in 1789. It was an amazing sight.


And Emily managed to get a legal picture of Liz and me at les pyramides at the Louvre.

Hypercool.

Comme une vièrge

I referenced Madonna today in class. It was the best (and worst) analogy I could think of at the time. It was too late before I realized what I had done.

There have been a few other instances where I have unintentionally done some pretty funny things. An example: yesterday we went to the Conciergerie, which during the French Revolution housed prisoners awaiting the guillotine. (Marie Antoinette y compris, une femme qui je fait beaucoup de récherche dans mon cours de l'histoire le semestre dernière.) In order to visit the musée, you must enter through the librarie that had a sensor at its entrance. Following the others, I walked through.

Beep!

Merde. I had set off the sensor. The lady at the cashier took my purse, tried to desensitize it, and told me to walk back in and out again. Encore une fois, I had upset the sensor. She shook her head at me, muttering something under her breath, and told me to go ahead. After we finished our tour of the musée, we had to walk back through the same librarie and that same difficult sensor. This time the lady was on the phone when all of my friends walked out the sortie. Knowing that I would again set off the sensor, I waited a few moments for her. Yet impatient, I walked back out through the sensor to capture her attention.

Beep!

Immediately she looked up and saw that it was me. Aggravated, but understanding, she let me pass with a grimace and a nod. But I'm sure that I would have been guillotinée if it were 1789 instead of 2009.

The Big Freeze

It's snowing in Paris.


An incredible sight because it never snows in Paris. In actuality, it's more like sleet so the streets are slushy and cold that gets your jeans wet, making it unpleasant to walk around. Since my luggage has yet to arrive, my only pair are now drying in the bathroom.

Nevertheless, we ventured out into the city. We visited some églises, except their jardins - closed due the snow. (Parisians obviously have never been to Minnesota.) Yet, we were able to see the artist Eugène Delacroix's jardin at his old atelier in the 6eme Arrondissement.


You may recognize some of Delacroix's work, such as La Liberté guidant le peuple, which is found in the Louvre.

Normally I don't like taking photos of famous art. But I wanted to show people that this image as an actual piece of art, as well as an important portrayal of 19th-century French history (les Trois Glorieuses). Not just a rip off for a Coldplay album cover.

But I certainly am ripping off this monkey in Louvre's Egyptian exhibit.

Don't lose your head, Augustus! We wouldn't want anyone to lose that.

Voilà, I'm in Paris.

My flights were long and complicated, it was not a pleasant trip here. Beginning in Denver, my flight to Chicago - where I was supposed to meet the rest of the group - was delayed 3 hours. Having missed that flight in O'Hare, I had to wait in 2-hour long customer service lines to find an alternative route to Paris. I ended up going to London, where I missed my next flight to Paris because again the plane was late. Finally I got to Paris, tired and frustrated. Yet I'm here, luggage elsewhere - c'est la vie!

Long story short: if I were to believe in hell, it would be air travel. If I were to believe in Satan, it would be United Airlines.

Despite travel, what else have I done? (Asks the statue below.)


Well, today I visited the Musée du Cluny, the national museum of the Middle Ages. Amidst all the relics of weapons, dishes, jewelry, stained glass vitrines, pillars, chairs, paintings, and tapestries, I especially enjoyed the sculptures. They have character, such as this guy with the buck teeth!


I also found that even before the guillotine, people lost their heads in the Môyen Age.


Luckily they were able to find them.


Très bien.