The Hermetic Closure of Coffins

So for the last week or so I have been obsessing over Napoleon. Yes, it is a constant in my life to love the man, but every once in a while I get a little more focused. Sophomore year it was his exile and time in St. Helena that fascinated me, then I was into his childhood and time at school, and now, his tomb.

I wrote about my first experience at the tomb in August, and since I have been back 3 times. So when we had to pick a topic for our research paper in Paris Monuments and Political Power, I naturally chose Les Invalides. For the last week I have been reading constantly about the tomb, its construction and maybe most importantly, about Napoleon's dead body.

When they retrieved his body from St. Helena, 20 years after his death to bring it back to Paris, he was in almost perfect condition. He was within 4 caskets, like a little Russian nesting doll (oh Russia...sorry to bring it up little guy). I found an article from The British Medical Journal that describes his corpse:

The head of the conqueror rested on a pillow. The large head with the lofty brow was seen covered with a yellowish, hard and very adherant integuments. Under the eyelids could be seen the eyeballs, which had lost little of their volume and shape. Some hairs were still seen at the free edge of the eyelids...The hands showed no change; "the skin seemed to have preserved that particular colour which only belongs to that which has life."

Amazing. The best part about the article is that it starts out "In the lives of saints it is often stated that the body was found incorrupt long after death." They talk about that for a minute then say Napoleon was in great condition. QED, n'est pas? The article tell of a period of history when they used to open up his 6 caskets once a year (August 15-his birthday) and people could take a peek. WHICH IS MY DREAM. Here's a little from M. Jean Richepin:

The General took us down into the crypt...My father took me into his arms, raised me into the air and I saw the Emperor. I have never forgotten that sight. I was eleven years old. What is seen at that age makes a deep impression and nothing can remove from my brain that extraordinary image: the eyes closed, the beard slightly grown, the face of the whiteness of marble, on which spread some yellow spots which seemed bronze. When there mingle in my memory that face of wax, showing some signs of decomposition which I have seen, those eyes which I have seen, I see the Emperor truly as if I had known him. -From a lecture on 25 Janvier 1909

I was poking around some other essays and articles and found descriptions of the kings corpses when they exhumed them from St-Denis during the Revolution (down with the monarchy! get rid of their dead bodies!). It is funny because the better the king, the better he was preserved. Apparently smell has a lot to do with it too. Henry IV was in good condition, Louis XIV was okay, and "Louis XV had blanched skin, a violet nose and buttocks as red as a newborn's."

Lists Are Easy To Read

This is a list of things that I currently miss from NYC (besides the obvious people):

• Dryers (my clothes are hanging off of me)
• Grilled Cheese made with Kraft Singles
• My Blackberry
• Fresh Direct
• Numbered Streets
• Chicago
• The American Dollar
• My Watch Collection
• Mexican Food (Chipotle)
• Making Crafts
• Harlem (Convent & 148th)
• Alta
• NY Pizza

These are things I am assuming I will miss when I leave Paris (besides the obvious beauty, food and wine):

• Outdoor Seating
• Children in Colored Glasses
• Great Street Names
• Navigo
• Everyone in Scarves
• Short Metro Stops (plus they tell you how long until the train comes)
• Twingo
• Professor Christina Von Koehler
• Saying Hello and Goodbye to EVERYONE
• The Eiffel Tower When It Looks Like Liza
• French Limestone
• Taking My Time
• Napoleon
• Ample Use of Fur

Either Way, Cute...

Since I first arrived in Paris in August I have had an ongoing disagreement with the people in my French life. It is all in regard to a Renault advertising campaign that littered the trains and the metro stations through September.

Renault I guess came out with a bunch of new car models and so the campaign was to find babies of the same age and place them on the ads. Effective! Now I know the names of many Renault cars and get excited when I see those cars on the street. Plus the babies were très mignon! but they used the names of the cars for the babies as well. Examples Kangoo, Scènic, Modus, Mègane, Logan, Clio, Laguna and my favorite...

The disagreement lies with the gender of this child, Twingo. What makes it even harder is that were Twingo a real name, it would most definitely be unisex. I would love opinions, right now between people I know it is fairly split.

Secret Pleasure

I have this one hair in my left nostril that grows so fast and after while starts to tickle me. All of my nose hairs are a light color except for this one.

Every two months it grows out enough for me to pluck it out of there, WHICH I LOVE.

Secret revealed. Too much?

I'm Back. And I'm in Marseilles.

I was running, sweating, errand-ing before I left. From class to pick up my newly-fixed computer, home to pack and shower and then I just HAD TO have drinks with a few friends before I hopped on the train.

My information on the computer was somehow not lost, which they told me it would be. I love you .

So now I am here on a trip with my Marseilles and the Mediterranean World class, a little class of 8 plus the teacher and another NYU administrator. It was a nice three hour train ride and an amazing dinner last night, some museums and city walking today. A more detailed description to come later, I have something else on my mind.

Landmarks.

At breakfast, before we left this morning, I realized I had never seen the Mediterranean Sea. It's interesting that I had not even considered the fact before today. It is such a central place when it comes to history, the basis of modern civilization, education and thought, that it somehow seemed familiar. I felt like I had been there, like I knew it for some reason. When I realized that I was taking it for granted, I got really excited and nervous about this landmark in my life, seeing this, the Mediterranean Sea for the first time.

So later in the day the point comes in which we climb hundreds of stairs to the highest point in Marseilles, to Notre-Dame de la Garde and I refuse to look behind me as I climb the steep hill. I want to get to the top and turn around and faint or have an seizure or something like that as I stare out at the turquoise water. I know behind me is Chateau d'If where Monte Cristo famously planned his fictional revenge and the amazing Vieux Port with it's fortress rising out of the sea and all this is in my mind.

So I turn around, and of course nothing like that happens. I don't mean to say I was disappointed, because I got out my journal and started to write about the beauty (which of course exists). I wanted to write in that moment words that would be monumental, I was hoping for some moving description that my grandkids would find in the attic someday and frame. But instead I just felt like a schmuck sitting there writing. It was just pretty and that's all I could write. It wasn't a 'landmark' moment in my life. I will always remember it, sure, but I felt nothing sacred.

But wait, there is more.

Later, we went to concert that my teacher found for us. That's what she said, "we are going to a concert." I didn't ask, I had no expectations.

Well, I guess I expected a band to play, which happened and was fine and dandy, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was after about 9 minutes that a man in a tux emerged from the shadows, came onto the slightly foggy stage in front of the red lights and began to dance. Flamenco. He was in the center of the stage with the band behind him and he was dancing. I have never seen anyone dance like that before. Stomping, sweating, spinning tossing his coat this way and that, it was shocking.

I have not been as inspired as I was tonight in a long time. And it was because I wasn't expecting it. It was not what I thought I was getting myself into, and so I could not be disappointed. There was such a sense of passion in that room, it was performer-audience community at it's best and it inspired me. It was at that point that I couldn't STOP writing in my journal, as much as I wanted to watch the band play and dancers dance.

I had never seen the Mediterranean until today. I saw it today when that man came onstage and began to dance. I was a foreigner in a new world. I thought I had a sense of what the Mediterranean was, but I had no idea. We keep talking about it in class, and I just didn't understand it until tonight. The Mediterranean is not a body of water, it's not a group of people, it's not a region, and no one can really agree what makes it what it is. Honestly, I don't know either, but I liked it and I want more.

Wine in Baby Bottles and Fondue

This post is about exactly what it sounds like. A fondue restaurant where the wine is served in baby bottles.

But first a wonderful day at Versailles. We awoke at my house and I had to sing, yell and jump on my friend Cassandra to get her off the couch and so she would come with us. My friend Bailey was staying with me too, and we made our way to the train station where the amazing Professor Christina Von Koehler was waiting with a head full of knowledge about the place and with free train tickets from NYU Paris!

I didn't think I could learn so much about Versailles by not even going in the house, but I should have known anything is possible with Christina. We simply toured the gardens. I learned why certain fountain are in certain places, the mythology behind them and whether or not they were supposed to make for a fertile night in the rooms of the palace that overlooked them (for example). We visited Marie Antionette's little fairytale village, and of course everyone was more amused by the piggies, sheepies and little-guy goats than by the rest of the compound (This is why homeless people with pets always get us too).

I had a cup of hot chocolate that was just chocolate that was hot. If I didn't drink it fast enough the top would solidify and I would have to eat the skin. Yum. Later I saw dragon-man statue with the biggest and pointiest nipples at all of Versailles, but then I thought back to drinking that hot chocolate and came to rival him.

Anyway it was an beautiful day full of education for fun (always an easier way to learn) and about 6:30 we made our way back on the train, with plans of going to the fondue and baby bottle restaurant.

The place was about 10 feet across and not very deep, the ladies had to sit on the inside because the only way to get to the seats against the wall was to climb over the table (and I guess guys are too heavy?). Our waiter hates the stupid young people who frequent the place and he let's you know. He and the other waiter repeatedly made fun of my bow-tie and I just happen to sit in the seat where he put down everything on the table. He would smack me in the head with the bread basket, with the bowl of potatoes, and with his elbows. I loved every minute of it. That guy stuck to his character, and I could tell underneath he was smiling.

The food was not great, I mean it was basic meat and cheese fondue. Fondue is always about the experience anyway, and the baby bottles made the night what it was. I could not think of better way to drink red wine. I am trying to stop chewing my nails, so I needed something to satiate my oral fixation. Though they cut bigger holes in the nipple (!?) and it did make it go down fast, not to mention baby bottles are not tiny. By the time we left we were all in a jovial mood and went off to dance and continue the festivities...

If Ever I Would Leave You...

...It wouldn't be in Autumn.

Here I am sitting in our little mansion that is the NYU in Paris campus on a Saturday. This coming week is midterm week and so our basement library is open today. At this point it is just me and the salty French librarian with her pursed lips and red rectangle frames. As I walked in and saw only empty computers I said "Ah bon!" and she made a grunting noise back. Life without a computer (still haven't quite diagnosed mine) is hard, but kind of good because it forces me to read in my spare time or come here to actually get work done (well now, I am blogging).

The last few weeks here have had their ups and downs, I had guests for about two and a half weeks straight and therefore didn't get as much as I needed to done, got a little stressed out at times but also had a lot of fun. This city is always a cure when I get worked-up though, I can just take a walk and I feel great. I have a feeling when I get back to New York it is really going to hit me hard. Though I have just as much work here, it doesn't feel like it. New York always has some larger pressing matter, some way of forcing me into submission and beating me down into a robot who relies on his Blackberry to tell him where he needs to be with whom and what he needs to talk about with that person.

Okay I get it, that is called obligation, and I don't have much of it here. But that's not how life works, unless I'm able to always just escape time after time. I've done a pretty good job of it up until now but I think I'm getting a little old for that. Evan's got some decisions to make when he gets back.

But for now: French limestone, brick streets, pasteries, autumn air, new friends, and the bluest sky I have ever seen.

I hope my friend Sasha doesn't mind that I keep using her photos, but this one seems to fit.

My computer is BROKEN

It froze, I restarted it. When I did a circle with a diagnol line came up on that grey start-up screen. That was there for a while, so I restarted it. Next time a folder with a question mark came up, and continues to come up any time I try. This does not seem like a good thing to me.

If you know anything about this kind of thing, let me know. I don't want to go talk to an apple guy about my computer in French.

I will try to update as much as I can, but most of the time I am in the library I am trying to work (like right now...) and though we can change the keyboards here to English if we like, they are very different.

I'll type this sentence two times, once with the English keys and once with the French keyboard!
=
Iùll type this sentence tzo ti,es; once zith the English keys qnd once zith the French keyboqrd1

WISH ME LUCK!

Free Refreshments

Now I am going to tell you something I love. It's those little moments of re-realization in life. Those things that are wonderful but that happen just often enough to forget about them in between experiencing them (and with my memory this happens quite frequently). But these are my latest re-realizations:

I Love Fall

And this is amazing because every year I forget. In the summer, especially those last days, I never want it to end. What could be worse than putting on a jacket and the leaves dying? But then, that first day of cold hits and I re-love it. It smells so good! The air tastes different! I get to sport more clothing and scarfs! So many possibilities! And these dying leaves are so beautiful!

Crisp air, crisp leaves, crisp apples.

That River!

The metro closes early here in Paris, 1am on weekdays and 2am on weekends. So needless to say sometimes I don't make it onboard. So then I end up standing with every other Parisian youth who has had a drink or a few, trying to catch a cab at the taxi stand. I tend to give up and start to trudge home. That is, until I get to the Seine.

Most of the time I have to traverse a bridge to get from the Marais or Bastille to my home, and every time I am reminded that this river is what makes the city. That's not just my opinion, this river and its islands are why Paris was founded and how it has survived.

And it's ridiculously beautiful. Amsterdam also reminded me how calming water can be. I grew up on the water, my wonderful mother made sure it has always been a part of my life. It is on my list of top 5 favorite things. Water, Babies, Old People, Fun and Culinary Delights.

Because I Have No Camera...

So the last few days have been quite nice, low-key but full of learning and camaraderie. Our friend Grayson happened to be staying with us before she heads off to India for a few months. My friend Sasha who is also studying here is a good friend of Grayson's (as well as an amazing photographer). She said I could post some of her pictures, and I think they perfectly capture the simple beauty of the last few days.

Grayson made us a beautiful meal of tomato, mozzarella and basil salad, toasted baguette with goat cheese, honey and raisins and then goat cheese and spinach wrapped with fried eggplant. Amazing.

View of my room from the living room.

The next day started at 11am at my apartment, where I made omelettes for everyone. I've learned how to make the perfect french style omelette and I am very proud of it, I've always found eggs hard to get just right. Sasha and I had our Paris Monuments and Political Power class at 1pm, but Thursdays we visit monuments, and this time it was the Pantheon. The buiding is right around the corner from my house, maybe 5 minutes walk. It's been a church, then secular temple devoted to the great men of France, then a church again, then secular, too many times to count (look up pictures of the building, I'm not going to taint this post with anything other than Sasha's amazing photos). We headed there at about 1pm.

That hand is that of amazing Christina Von Koehler, the smartest professor in all of Paris. And though I can't be sure, she looks as though she has the softest skin in the city as well.

View of our apartment from the courtyard

That night was more of the same, wine and talk and general easy good time. Then Benj, Molly and Grayson headed off to Amsterdam! What fun. And since I know you now want to see more of Sasha's photos of Paris, her blog is 'Hour of Departure' linked there on the right.

Eiffel with an E

Mondays and Tuesdays I have class starting at 9am, then two strange breaks between my three classes of the day. I end up not leaving our beautiful little campus until 7:45pm, after my last class on those evenings.

But I don't mind walking through the Passy neighborhood at night. Each week I've noticed it getting darker and colder, and it's coming out of those classes at that time of day and weather that reminds me that winter is coming. I like winter.

BUT HERE IS MY FAVORITE PART. The bridge that I either ride my bike or take the metro over crosses the Seine very close to la Tour Eiffel. And at 8pm when I am crossing, they light her up, and it is a spectacular show. It is flashy (literally blinking) and tacky and JUST RIGHT. It also happens to be my favorite part of that tower.

You know who it reminds me of?

Which is why I love it.

Sister, Sister, He's Just a Play-Thing, We Wanna Make Him Stay Up All Night

Above are lyrics from one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, and here's I love it and it is relevant:

First of all, because it is about babies. I love 'em and I want one. And let me tell you, they do babies well here in Paris. Actually, kids in general. They dress them well and if they need glasses when they are four or five, they don't mess around. Little round red frames. Imagine the American Girl Doll Molly's glasses, but in red. So cute!

Secondly, I miss my family so it is a shout out to my sis, Annie.

Thirdly, because I like to stay up late. Which brings me to last Saturday evening, Nuit Blanche in Paris. It translates literally to "white night," but in French that is the term for an all-nighter, for a sleepless night. Don't know why. *PAUSE* Just did some research and I think it might be in reference to 'white nights' in places of high latitude where the sun is out all night. But anyway, the french Nuit Blanche:

It is a huge arts festival meant for community building here in Paris. Museums stay open until 7am, they have exhibitions all around the city and the young and old of Paris take to the streets for the fête, for the soirée, for the festival, for the party. Right in my neighborhood there was a bunch of stuff, I live right around the corner from a fine arts college. Plus in the park by house they had a 25 foot disco ball (what?!) hanging from a crane above the fountain.

After a little pre-party in my courtyard, my friends and I decided to go to a few bars and make our way to another neighborhood that had stuff going on. We did make it to the bar, then to another, then beautiful Erin and I decided to split off and go with her two french friends while the other 3 went another way. Our time at the next place (a club) lasted about 2 minutes, Erin and I split.

What to do? FRENCH ONION SOUP of course. Erin and I sat down and watched the crowds. This would seem like the end, as everyone was wearing out. Our other friends ended up having Metro troubles and ended up going home, as did Erin. But on my way walking home, I figured, why not just keep going?

My first impromptu stop was the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg with the HUGE disco ball. It was absolutely dazzling and lit up the entire surrounding neighborhood. By the time I got there, about 4am, there was no line to get into the park, but it was still full enough to enjoy the atmosphere and the many people hanging out.

There was also a huge dream carousel, like those things one might put next to a child's bed. I sat in those wonderful moveable chairs in the garden for a while and watched that. But then I went home.

And as I was walking up the stairs, I said to myself WHY NOW? I poured myself some more wine, then went around the corner where I proceeded to watch a woman strategically command 6 record players playing bird calls, changing the timing and record to make the sound into music in the courtyard of the school. She had a rack of clothes on the back of the platform which I thought was a little curious, but for some reason completed her scenic design.

I sat there on the edge of a fountain listening to and watching her for about 45 minutes. Every once in a while she would look at me or another person nearby after making sure a record was playing right at the moment she wanted. Her face said 'that is the right spot, no argument.' She was a stern and focused woman of 50, and had her character for the performance down.

After that 45 minutes she grabbed a dress of the rack, having never acknowledged them until that point. Absolutely thrilling. She reset two more records and left the stage. There was no way I could leave now. Would she come back having changed from her cream colored Chanel-esque suit into the long black silk dress with the large flower on her breast?

I could only wait, which I did. For twenty minutes. I gave her five more minutes to return. After that five, I granted her five more. Then I did it again. After 35 minutes she returned to her work, no differently than before, except for the black dress. I loved it.

I had an amazing Saturday night both with my friends, then roaming alone until 7am. But of course that lead to a very short Sunday for Evan.

My Dream Job is Gone

Condé Nast has decided to cease to publish Gourmet Magazine, the favorite of all my bathroom reading material and the publication that was going to start my very secret career plan. The last issue will be November.

This post is dedicated to Alexis Touchet (touché!). I do not know her personally, but she is the wife of an amazing teacher I had freshman year and was Senior Food Editor for the magazine. Every month when I picked up my copy, I would first turn to the contributors page to view that amazing name of hers and then I would proceed to read the recipes and travel the gastronomical world with them. I promise to follow Alexis and Ruth Reichl wherever they go.

I joined the group on Twitter to save the magazine (you could too, for me), but I am coming to terms with it.

This cover from June 2009 has been the background to my American cell phone since I recieved it in the mail. It makes me so hungry whenever I call anyone!

At least we got the recipe for the peach and champagne popsicles before it all ended, Mom.

This Proves My Terrible Memory

I don't know how this happened, but I forgot my password to this blog for the last week. I changed it somehow, but I still have no idea what it might have been. Thank god for security questions (though I am surprised I remembered the answers for those).

The event that I have been most excited about since my time in France was this last Friday. It was a free trip through NYU (only cost me 3 1/2 years of tuition to finally get something free) to Vaux-le-Vicomte. This is the palace that Versailles was based on. We took buses in the morning, enjoyed the château, had a free 3 course meal, then enjoyed the gardens for a while before being shipped back to Paris.

I had heard one of my wonderful professors, Christina Von Koehler, who knows everything about everything history, was going to give a tour. So as we walked in, I asked her. She said "No, but I will be around if you have any questions." She then proceded to walk with me and tell me all about every room until it became an unofficial NYU tour. When we got to the bell tower, she admitted her fear of heights and could not continue. But lo and behold, when I descended 10 minutes later, she was there waiting, and we recommenced the tour.

At our 10 person table at lunch there was an extra seat next to me, which she eventually occupied. We drank wine and talked. She is one of the best story tellers I have ever encountered, and funny. And she knows her dates.

The château itself was built by Nicholas Fouquet, who was a minister of finance. He got these great designers and artists and gardeners and built himself this amazing place. It is funny too because in some old french dialect his last name meant squirrel, so they put them all over the house. When it was just about finished he had party to show it off, which turned out to be a mistake.

Louis XIV was young and new at the king thing and of course dint wanna git dun like dat. So 3 weeks later they arrested Fouquet and didn't allow him council or a pen the entire time before his trial, so he pretty much had to represent himself and all his financial dealings for France by himself from memory. He died in jail 19 years later. Meanwhile Louis XIV took all his builders, gardeners and artists and pretty much said 'same thing but bigger and better and closer to Paris.' Thus, Versailles was born.

My other favorite part was a little tidbit of info about the landscape designer André Le Nôtre eventually went from a gardener to a noble because of his work. So when your family is marked as nobility, you must have a crest. He chose his crest to be a head of a cabbage and 3 snails. He was funny for a gardener.

In the garden I snuck into an overgrown garden with broken greenhouses and an old well, which was cool, but I had to walk for a bit. When I finally reached another gate I saw some friends on the other side, realized I was trapped because it was locked and had to walk all the way back...

I really liked the place, and though I have not been inside the Palace of Versailles, I would say this is a great alternative. We were practically the only people there (never the case at Versailles) and the story of the building is interesting and it was designed by the same people. Plus the staff is relaxed and wouldn't mind if I had set down a picnic just about anywhere. I also like the fact that some of it remains unfinished, it gave me a better sense of the immense amount of work it takes.

Oh also, Tony Parker and Eva Longoria got married there. Cassandra and I thought about it, but decided to just take this picture instead.

Assortments

In my craving for candy two days ago, I realized something while standing there heavily weighing my options in the aisle. I do not want to tie myself down to one candy. It does not matter how much I love that candy, I want variety. It is, in fact, the spice of life. I decided to go with the Haribo 'World Mix' which is a varied assortment of many of their products in one bag.

There were candies that I liked okay, some that I loved and some that I hated. But that's the fun of it. And I'm gonna be really frank here, but if you don't save your favorite flavor for last, then you are just an idiot. Because even when there is a piece of candy you don't like, there is always the opportunity for redemption. Renewed excitement. The bag of candy is not some monotonous sit-down, it is an exciting story, up on it's feet, and it's wearing rocket shoes.

This is the same when it comes to meals for me. My plate better have at least 3 things on it, all edible separately, but better when I get to construct my bite. Let's say the sun-dried potato out-shined the salmon on that last bite. Okay, so this time maybe we just go with salmon, part of that grilled tomato and a little acidity from the sauce. Tasting menus are my favorite, and if I could always, I would alway.

Maybe this inability to sit there and shovel mashed potatoes in my mouth bite after bite says something more general about me as a person. Who knows? I don't care, I'm not doing it.

Peanuts five ways by Grant Achatz (James Beard Best Chef in America 2008) at Alinea in Chicago.

Something to Punder

So I love puns and I never miss an opportunity to make one, even in French, like I did yesterday in class. And in case you don't know, I even have an entire Twitter account dedicated to punny boat names:

http://twitter.com/LetsNameBoats

Anyway, today in class during the break right before our test we were talking about this bar Pop-In which is near Popincourt. Pun, okay, fine. After talking about this particular pun in more detail, someone posed this question: Do puns exist in nature, even when not recognized?That is just the kind of question I love to ponder and discuss, so I tried to keep the conversation going.

Most agreed that puns exist in nature, I was the only one who eventually disagreed, and so I eventually gave up because I couldn't deal with what was growing to be not discussion, but argument. In thinking about it more today (and getting a little worked up about it during my test), I am positive I am correct.

Puns do not exist in nature if not recognized by humans.

A pun must have intention. Most of the time puns are supposed to be funny or to make one ponder. A pun is literally a play on words and 'to play' is an action. That means there is inherently intention behind it. A pun is a concept, an idea, something entirely created. The same can be said of written language in general, and without language, alas, no puns.

Someone very aggressively asked me if before humans discovered the liver, if it meant we did not have a liver. This is when I decided to concede, because the argument is entirely different. A liver is physical, a pun is conceptual.

We could get really messy and start to talk about metaphysics, but do we really want to in a blog post? I sure don't.

The Opera

Tonight was my first opera. I have a wonderful roommate Molly, whose grandfather was in town for a few days and refers to opera as "the highest form of art." He treated us to The Barber of Seville at the Opéra Bastille. It was a totally new experience for me, for many reasons. The pressure of being a part of such an audience is immense. First of all, we were Americans in France seeing an Italian opera that is set in Spain.I understand none of those things, except mainly how to be American. Luckily I read a plot synopsis before I went.

In my opinion opera culture is a different world. I am not going to say it is a lost art, but it most definitely one which has it's niche market. As much as theatre is not an art form for the masses anymore, opera is even more so. I hear about little new opera, everything seems to be classics in repertoire. Not to say that is a bad thing. When that famous overture started tonight I got chills. The amazing recognition I have for these pieces, never even having seen any is amazing. But as I was sitting there watching this piece of art from 1816, I wondered what makes an opera popular and lasting.

I think the opulence of the art form has a great deal to do with its reputation. Even at the point where I gave up trying to read the french subtitles and abandoned the story, I was amazed by the sets and costumes and grandeur (confidence?) of the actors. When Rosina tore apart her guardian's room in a fit of fury, it was too long, felt to calculated and just seemed absolutely ridiculous. But what made me lean forward was this performer's total devotion and non-doubting attitude that it just HAD to be done.

I will say, I think that this production tried to do some different

things, even though we didn't understand it. Though it was set in 1400 moorish Spain, at the end the main character tore off his jacket and had on a modern soccer jersey. He was tossed a ball by a chorus person and fumbled with his opera singer feet to try handle it. Funny and I am guessing referential. If only us Americans new anything about all of Spanish history, especially current 'football' news.

I have class early tomorrow, but there is more about the night that I must get to! Goodnight!

My Life in France

I just started My Life in France by Julia Child. I took my bike and book to the Luxembourg Gardens, because it is a beautiful day.

I thank my good friend for giving me this book, it is exactly what I want to read right now. But not when I am hungry. So far it is her move to Paris with her husband from the US, and her quickly falling in love with the city. She is so optimistic and has a great sense of humor, and truly wants to learn about this new culture. So romantic. Also, her love for her husband is beautiful. This is why she wanted to learn to cook at start, so she could feed her husband all the wonderful foods he enjoyed.

This is the description of her first meal in France:

I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a fork full of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter. I chewed slowly and swallowed.

And it is reminding me so much of my dream to cook, to learn true French cooking. Man, I feel like Julie Powell right now. But I think I must put off seeing Julie/Julia until I am done reading this.

The new plan is a to get a good reputation as a food writer and then eventually get my own Alton Brown style cooking show. I love that man. These are my dreams people, these are my dreams.

My First Time Wasn't Great

I wasn't going to admit this, but I might as well since it turned out pretty well.

So I bought this bike, you see. I got it from a little second hand store right up the street. They aren't a bike shop or anything, so I wasn't expecting anything really fine tuned. Well there was a cute little one bike that I liked and that was one of the best there, so I bought it. The back brakes weren't great and it made some noises, but hey, it's a pretty simple machine, I can work out the kinks.

I rode to school on Tuesday with my new bike and a lot of courage. I mapped out a route that was quick and had bike paths and I was set. Please understand that the campus of NYU Paris is in the 16th arrondissement on the top of a pretty large hill. Not even a hill, but highlands. So once I cross the Seine (yeah the Eiffel Tower is just to my right), it is that final burst before the finish line. Well I stopped at maybe the steepest part of my journey to look at the map. I must turn left, uphill. So with all my might I SLAM down on the pedal to get started again...

My bike breaks, because that is happen when you are close to a destination and have a certain time you must be there. I take a quick look and I notice the chain is off. No big deal, I fix it and try to proceed. Then I notice the wheel is crooked and rubbing and very strangely off, but I don't know why. Well I was in a time crunch, so I walked my bike to school (while holding the back wheel off the ground) another 12 minutes.

The last two days I have left it at school, wondering how much it would be to get it fixed and where I would go. And hoping and hating it and wishing and sometimes regretting ever buying it.

Well today I took control. I folded my bike in half (yeah it does that) and took it to my friend's house who has a big tool box. I know how a bike works and once I went on a bike trip from the top to the bottom of Michigan in 9 days, so I can get the wheel off myself! Again, a bike is a simple machine and I am good with tools and I refuse to pay any more money.

Well, SUCCESS! I fixed my bike. My hands were dirty, I was sweaty, and I'm sure the bolts weren't happy, but it is done. I even tightened my back brakes, fixed my lights and a part of the petal that was making a strange noise. All I needed was a little elbow grease.

So then I rode home on my bike from my friend's house.

On another note, biking is tiring.

Nights Out

So I have been going out a fair amount at night, trying to find those places that suit me but won't force me to eat ramen for a week. There is talk about French people being mean or hating Americans, but that is simply not true. I have met SO many great Parisians while out at night. The only people who I find to be bitchy or seem entitled are other Americans who have been here for while. Isn't that funny? Are they trying to take on the stereotypical French attitude since they now live here?

Some of my favorite activities so far have been a boat party on the Seine, I wore a bow-tie and it was a hit. The French really love my bow-ties or "noeud-papillon" which translates to butterfly knot. There was an open air bar on the top and then two floors down a DJ and a hoppin' club.

Then there is La Pop-In. First of all, I think that name is hilarious, since it is in the neighborhood of Popincourt. Secondly, it's kind of a hip, cheap, dive bar. For my friend in New York, like Blue Gold Bar but twice the split into 4 levels, one being a downstairs dance club. And much more social.

I also end up at La Perle a lot, which is more a of a cafe/bar that spills out onto the street and has cool crowd, but a little older around 25-30. The other night when I was there a guy came up to me and told me he liked my look (another bow-tie) and asked me to be in scene that takes place in an art gallery in his movie. He said it is the last day of shooting, so there will be a wrap party after. I mean, it's not like I have too many commitments here in Paris, so yeah, I'll stand around and drink wine and look at art and then go to a party after. I just better remember what I wore that night and then wear the same thing, because I don't trust my sense of style that much...

Le Lardon Flu

I call it Lardon (Bacon) Flu because I forgot what pig is in french and I just haven't looked it up. Plus I see a lot more bacon throughout my week than live pigs.

H1N1 is serious business here at New York University Paris. In every one of our orientation meetings they have talked about it. I don't know how true this is, but I heard that the hype is kind of dying down in the US, but apparently that specualtion has made it to France. In every classroom inside the door there is antibacterial hand sanitizer. There are different trash cans with lids for gloves and masks. So is it still big in America? Honestly comment, want know.

And I wish this were a joke but the first day of french class the first word my teacher taught us was sneeze (éntenuer), followed by cough (tousser). Then she told us to not even think about coming to class if we did either of those things.

Then yesterday as I took a little nap, I found it really hard to take a sleep because I was sure I coming down with the symptoms. Every time I cough I worry.

The point of this post is to let you know that NYU Paris is good at making their students feel cared about, academically capable, and turning them into hypochondriacs.

Group Bath

So my camera has not been able to charge the entire time I have been here. I think it has something to do with the converter or I just broke the charger. So that sucks, I have been stealing pictures or taking them with my computer for the blog so far.

So this evening as I sat down in the bath with my computer playing music on the counter, I thought it might be nice if you would join me!

Also, I have tried the lavender scented purple toilet paper and it is actually a good texture. It makes the bathroom smell very much like a baby.

Happiness

Happiness because I love my apartment. Happiness because I got a bike. Baguette tradition happiness. Maybe a little to much wine happiness too often.

So pretty much we walk through two doors with codes to get into the courtyard, it is very well protected. Not to mention, the courtyard is almost entirely ours. We walk in our door pictured above, and up our private staircase to those second story windows you see.

There is one other door that might be residential in the courtyard, and another bike, but we have not really seen anyone. I have decided to believe that the other doors in the courtyard are some sort of racing auto parts supplier, but that is also maybe entirely my imagination. On the weekdays there are men in uniforms and they sometimes cart things out. They don't seem like drug dealers, but if they were this would be the perfect safe house.

The other night my roommates and I had about 6 friends over, they all brought a little something to eat or wine, we made pasta and just sat there at our little table in the courtyard for hours. Truly perfect. I hope it happens very often.

Yesterday I wanted to get my glasses fixed and buy a bike, so I got out my old French book and made sure I knew everything I would need for those interactions. Then when I got to the glasses store, he wanted to speak English! So i learned "petit tournevis" (little screwdriver) for nothing...

Then there is my bike! Right around the corner is a second-hand store that had a bunch outside. I tested a lot out, and this one was not only in the best condition, but I think it is cute. The seat is white = double cute. I actually have not ridden it yet, I need to get a lock and a helmet before that can happen. Safety first for Mr. Evan!

That is the bell, it is a froggy bell.

That is cute Evy that has nothing to do with this post. See her drool!?

Jardin du Luxembourg

As I was ordering my noix de coco (coconut) scoop of ice cream, 2 little boys were tormenting the 3 girls also buying snacks. They were all laughing and yelling in French and running around and loving every minute. When I started to walk back towards the fountain I was the happiest guy in Paris. The sun was out, the perfect temperature, there was laughter and happiness and general contentedness everywhere around me.

The Luxembourg Gardens is one of my favorite places in Paris. It is perfectly manicured with beautiful flowers, a palace and potted palm trees (?!). The park is pretty large, with so many activities. It is what a park should be: pony rides, playgrounds, carousel, old men playing boules, tennis courts, statues, fountains and flowers.

It seems so very friendly, and it allows for you to sit among the trees if you like, go to the children's play areas, or sit down at a little cafe in the park. Something for everyone. The park is filled with these olive green chairs that anyone can take to their preferred place to sit and read or talk or people watch. Absolutely perfect. See these people enjoying them above?

I made a friend who was a duck by feeding her a little bit of my ice cream cone. And as I tossed more in, I noticed fish swimming up from the bottom! Strange to have so many fish in a man made fountain, especially when one can't really see them most of the time. Carp, but fish nonetheless.

And this place is a 5 minute walk from my house. I HAVE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS WEATHER WHILE I STILL HAVE IT.

Today was also our placement exams for our preliminary French course for the next two weeks. At the metro station on the way there this morning I was running a little behind and then I had no change to buy a ticket. I had to run into a pharmacy and buy the cheapest thing so I could break a ten euro bill. So now I have a new toothbrush. The end has a funny toothpick thing on it. Like a rubber cone with a very pointy end.

Anyway, I knew I was either going to be devastated or surprise myself on the test, and luckily it was the latter. I found the listening portion incredibly easy, but only because the woman spoke slowly and repeated it all again and again. Grammar was harder, I forget the little things (les, des, aux, leur, de, du) that are so important. I was able to sort of figure out the answers even if I couldn't always understand what they were saying, so then for one section I kind of gave up because I didn't want to be in a French class that was above my level. I need to review and relearn these first two weeks. For an essay question, which was "How did you feel about the points of view in the article you just read?" I wrote in French "I didn't understand the article enough to have an opinion."

In other news, I bought lavendar scented toilet paper on accident. It is my own fault for wanting purple TP, I should have figured color was not the only selling point. I have not yet used it, but I am a little skeptical for many reasons. One being that I hate those tissues with lotion in them and I am fearful of the paper having a similar texture. Plus I think using scented toilet paper implies that I am trying to cover up a stinky butt. I just want to say that I am in no way self-conscience of my bum, it is in no way smellier than any other average Joe. I see no need for scented toilet paper because something weird is going on anyway if there is a nose close enough to my butt to enjoy the perfume. So that's that folks. Bon weekend!

NYU Paris

Yesterday was our first day of "school." It included picking up a packet with our ID at the place everyone is being temporarily housed, getting a schedule of meetings this week, and the faculty telling us to be careful of swine flu and getting drunk in public, first in French and then in English.

This morning we had to meet at 10am at the school (cute, pictured here), the meeting was very similar, but smaller and with two very entertaining and funny young ladies showing us a powerpoint. They did give us wine tips and we were able to ask all those questions we have had for so long. Like if we can receive packages at our school mailboxes, which we can. So send them to me! Evan Watkins - NYU Paris, 56 Rue de Passy, Paris 75016 France!

I have never been so excited to start school (that may not be true, I just have a terrible memory), but it is still like we are skirting around it. Friday we take a language placement test, then the next two weeks is only French class for 2 weeks and activities/tours at night. After that we start real classes. Strange, but obviously structured like that for good reason and I trust it.

And to be honest, outside of Playwrights Horizons Theater School, I have never felt really cared about so much at NYU. They do a good job here, I think it has to do with the small group and their hope for a pleasant and full experience for us all. I already signed up for a free day-trip to Vaux-le-Vicomte with a 4 course meal included, and a ghost story tour of Montmarte. I am a big fan of planned communal events!

So I found independent housing with my roommates and moved in yesterday. I UNPACKED immediately. I have been in a suitcase for 4 weeks! Truly terrible and not a way that I can live. I like my apartment, it is very cute and in a really great area. The only thing is that I still have to fashion myself up a desk so I can be super studious this semester!

Musée Rodin

Yesterday, my boss from last summer was in town for the day. She is a commercial airline pilot, so visits Paris quite a bit, but had never been to the Rodin Museum and said she had always wanted to go. I met her there.

I really love that museum, not only for his work, but because of the general feel of the place. It is a large mansion that has been cleared out and which houses work of his as well as a few of his contemporaries and students, including his muse of 10 years, Camille Claudel. It has a beautiful walled garden behind with his sculptures scattered throughout. The inside of the house is amazing, it has a broken grandeur about it. The paint is chipping, some doors are half-painted and then there will randomly be an old wardrobe amongst the art.

I love his work in the same way as I love the mansion. The craftsmanship is astounding, but at the same time it is not necessarily smooth, manicured, tranquil or calming. Plus he has some sexy, sexy stuff which is always nice.

While walking with my friend, we started to talk about the eyes of the sculptures, her noticing how kind of strange it was that most of his work just has holes where they should be. She said it is the stuff horror movies are made of. But it made me so much more aware of their faces and the emotion behind the piece.

So I went looking for sculptures around the museum with eyes, and I came to the conclusion that this was exactly the perfect touch to his scultures. Adding eyes makes them look lifeless, but giving you a space to look into makes each person a little more full of life. Example:

Rodin sculpture of Gustav Mahler (no eyeballs)

Old statue of Julius Caesar (with eyeballs)

From now during a Sculptorades challenge when I play Cranium, I will dig out the eyes...

Nous Sommes Très Forts!

Two nights ago, we were talking about the art of fort-making that is so often developed as a child. Will, Cassandra and I all were proud of our fort-making capabilities. Last night Cassandra decided that she wanted to make tacos.

Tonight is my last night staying here, my roommates arrive and we move into our apartment tomorrow. So we decided to put the two ideas together and build a structure we have deemed "¡Fort Fiesta!"

We are lucky because the lady who owns their apartment left them about 100 linens. The fort is now built, it about 5pm. Before the festivities begin we are going to go buy more wine and then make dinner.

PLANNED ACTIVITIES:

Dinner

Playing Cards

Six Feet Under

Cuddling

Slumber Party