Winter Break Sampler

Seeing as I haven't written for a while, I must explain that last week was winter break. Instead of updating my blog, I decided to head back to Paris with a few friends. We also ventured to Geneva to see what the Swiss were like. In sum, the trip was great. But not having the desire nor patience to type out every single detail, I've decided to give those who are curious a taste of what happened. Alas, in photos to make life easier.

The first day in Paris was Valentine's Day. So what do 3 single ladies do on this special day in the City of Love?

We take photos with random Italian men in front of the Eiffel Tower with roses in our hands.


Then we visit the Catacombs, where thousands of unwanted bones of innocent people rest under the streets of Paris. Translation of the inscription above the portal: "Stop! This here is the empire of the dead."


Afterwards we hop Geneva to play on a playground in the Old Town.


And build a snowman, named Jacques, in the lawn in front of the musée de l'art et l'histoire.


So that small children can admire...and terrorize him.


But they don't terrorize the great Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a man I ought to owe my life to, on his little island on the lake.


Back in Paris, we renew our interest in the dead and return to Père Lachaise. In quest of finding graves of Proust, Molière, and Sarah Berhardt, we learn that map of the cemetary is completely wrong in the Guide Vert.


Yet we found a cat lurking around Ingrès tomb. Bad luck?

Des Mots & Des Mots

As I was sitting at the salon de beauté today, getting all my hair chopped off, a song that has irritated me since Paris came on. Even the coiffeuse was singing along to it, although she didn't know the words. Whether it is popular in the states, "I Hate This Part" by the Pussycat Dolls is ridiculously loved in France. I hear it everyday. On TV, in the metro, coming from my host sister's bedroom... One afternoon, I counted it playing 3 times on the radio. I think I will never escape that song, no matter how hard I try.

Along with the Pussycat Dolls, there are several other American artists that are quite the hit in France at the moment. Britney Spears has regained her fame, but not her sanity, with "Womanizer and "Circus." Beyoncé Knowles is also hot with her "Single Ladies" (Liz, have you learned the dance yet?) and "If I Were a Boy." Akon's "Right Now (Na Na Na)" and Lady GaGa's "Poker Face" are also on the top hits list. Yet personally, I prefer the French artists.

For a mix of classical and rock, Mikelangelo Loconte's "Tatoue-moi" is a premier choice. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USZ7-Hcnuko

For a terrible music video but decent song, Stanislas and Calogero's "La Débâcle des sentiments" is perfect. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdWLqzv0sS4

For something cute in time for Valentine's Day, but in Bobby Barjasteh's words a "chick song", Grégoire's "Toi+Moi" is a winner. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOru9ITtVIg&feature=related

For something that will just scare you, Bebe Lilly's "Viens avec moi" will suffice. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_dDxkDTkvQ

Schizophrenia

The weather in Rennes has a mind of its own. One minute, the sun is shining and the world is beautiful. The next minute, dark clouds appear from nowhere up above and rain suddenly falls over your head. My host mother keeps telling me it's unusually cold for the season, explaining the negative temperatures (in Celsius) in the morning and the need for me to wear a sweater both inside and outside the house. Because of the cold, yesterday a few of us witnessed a freak snowstorm of about 10 minutes in the center of town.

When I stepped off the metro, the sun was out and I was fooled into believing that it would a beautiful day. Once I met my friends, the few flakes of snow began to fall. Amused by this change in atmosphere, we were initially excited.


The snow started falling harder. In France, to protect yourself from the snow, you take out your umbrella.


Then it started falling even harder. And we started to lose control.


Again, the snow kept falling harder and harder.


All of the sudden, the snow stopped! The sun came back out as well as our sanity. All within a matter of seconds.


After this phenomenon, we decided to enjoy the beautiful weather before the next snowstorm. Naturally, we went to the park to feed the birds clementines.

I love Rennes.

Mal au pied

At the end of last August, I dropped a box on my foot as I was moving out of St. Olaf summer housing. As a result, an ugly bruise appeared underneath my big toenail. As the months passed by, my toenail has grown and I have watched the bruise slowly creep up my toe. This evening, five months later, I finally have touched the top of the bruise when clipping my nails. For some reason, this sliver of my toenail fascinated me. It was something pleasant about my feet, which have not been too happy with me lately.

Since I've been in France, I've been walking a lot more than I have done back home. And it's not just walking on sidewalks and smooth pavement, but also on older streets and plazas of cobblestone. I was everywhere in Paris, visiting the 50 some odd monuments for credit in our interim course. Now in Rennes, I have a 10 minute walk to and from the metro stop everyday in addition to my various promenades around the centre ville and the campus. On my feet, I've been more concerned about what shoes they look like as opposed to how practical they really are. I have not been foolish enough to wear heels everyday. (Although I did make the mistake of wearing some one night in Paris when we got lost finding the Rue Mouffetard...which is nearly right behind our hotel.) But I've been wearing shoes with little support. And boots.

Boots are a requirement in France. Everyone wears boots. They don't let you even get you through customs if you don't own a pair of boots. Okay, that's a bit hyperbolic. But in order to really fit in the crowd, you must have a pair of boots on your feet. Black, of course. I waited until I got to Rennes to buy a pair of boots. I had an ideal pair in mind, no heels, not too tall, and not too expensive. Because of the soldes, I got lucky and found a pair of simple black ones for 17 euros. I even traveled through the crowds of demonstraters during a state-wide strike (which is practically a national sport here) in order to enter the boutique. I was excited, and wore the boots with pride for the next few days. But to my dismay, immediately after wearing the boots, a sharp pain developed in my right foot. Looking at my boots, I discovered had really done a good job finding a pair of flat ones. So flat that there are no arches at all. None.

Quickly returning back to shoes I already had with me, the last few days were spent limping from store to store in search for something to make my boots bearable. I've checked pharmacies and department stores for something that would resemble a Dr. Scholl's arch support pad that you insert into your shoe. Nothing. Convinced they don't exist in France, I shed a tear when I look at my new boots sitting in my closet instead of sitting on my feet. I even have to admit that I even asked my dad to send me arch support from the US...so that I can wear those boots.


In the meantime, to convince my feet that I still indeed do love them, I gave myself a pedicure my clipping and filing my nails. This brings me back to my toenail and the joyful clipping of the top of the bruise. Considering that the bruise takes up about 40% of my toe, I'm guessing it will be another 4 months before it completely grows out. When it does, it will be time for me to leave France and go back home where I will see people and places I have not seen in a long time. Of course, it will be summer again...and at that time I will not want to wear those boots.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec est vrai.

It's Sunday afternoon and I have nothing important to do. So naturally I turn to Facebook.

A couple of years ago, I created a page for my hero, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Again, I probably created it on another Sunday afternoon when I had nothing important to do. As a member of the France network as well as the St. Olaf staff, Henri has collected many friends from all over the world. Today, as I was confirming a list of his friend requests, someone started a Facebook chat.

Olivia: hi

Henri: Hello.

Olivia: where are u from?

Henri: France.

Olivia: i'm from italy, nicve to meet yuou, yopu, you

Henri: Nice to meet you too.

Olivia: i'm olivia bytheways. and you are...?

Henri: Henri.

Olivia: of course....age??

Henri: Old.

Olivia: i thought you were dead?! :)

Henri: Maybe.

Olivia: of course...

Henri: It's the truth.

Olivia: he was my favourite artist too. that's why i added you:)

Henri: Why thank you.

Olivia: :) are you going to keep faking...all conversation long or are u actually also going to ask me something?'?

Olivia: u there?? i'm very pretty you could paint me!

Henri: Sorry, it was nice talking to you, but I have to run off...I have an appointment at the Chat Noir.

Olivia: ciqao, ciao


I should never have Henri signed in online.