manteau_bleu

I thought it would be a good idea to post something here since the last entry dates back awhile.  Well, what to say about this break?  I don't know if I could say that it went by quickly, or that it was too short, or that I'm not ready to go back to la vraie vie...none of these bittersweetly nostalgic phrases that are so commonly heard in the days following the winter holidays can be said to accurately describe the way I feel now, sitting here warm and content in front of my computer, reflecting on the past two weeks.

The most recent post is dated the 22nd, so I suppose I'll start with the 23rd.  This was a Sunday, I remember, since Christmas eve fell on Monday this year.  I felt some guilt for not doing any work for a full week, which seems silly, I know.  However, you'll remember that I had discussion questions for sociology to do for this Thursday and three exposes for next week.  Every day that had gone by felt like a lost opportunity to get things done, and yet I wasn't motivated.  I was enjoying myself, don't misunderstand - but, as always, there was that nagging voice in the back of my mind reminding me that the three exposes weren't going to go away just because I was on vacation.  We'll call that my  mother's voice.  People from school were leaving to go country-hopping at this point, so I made sure I got to see a couple of them (Eleanor and Ritsuko) before all of that started.  At any rate, I resolved to be more productive on the 24th (Christmas eve) during the day, so that I could go out at night.  Christmas eve morning was a bit of a surprise for me.  I woke up with a hollow, sad feeling in my chest, as I remembered the excitement of the Christmas eves of my childhood.  I'd wake up, early usually, everyone was in a good mood, and we'd all get clean and perked and pretty to go to the Unitarian fellowship that evening. 

But I didn't have any of that to look forward to this year.  It wasn't that i wanted to go to church, or even receive/give presents - it's been a while since we've gone on Christmas eve, anyway.  But I missed my family, I wanted to be with mommy and daddy and my sister.  And I wanted to call them mommy and daddy, and drink hot tea with Christmas pudding and hard sauce, and laugh at silly movies all huddled up together on the couch.  I didn't just miss them, either - for the first time, I missed the United States of America.  I wanted our Christmas traditions, our Christmas music, and my charming, familiar hometown.  Paris is lovely, but it's not home, and nothing can replace the traditions of home.  It wouldn't have mattered where I had grown up - it's spending those years with those people in those places that makes a person the individual that he or she is.  And no matter how long I've lived anywhere else, it will not feel as real, as safe, or as genuine as our dear, cozy family room with the enormous spherical chandelier and the floor-to-ceiling shelves of videos, books, and music.  It was at that point that I realized how important tradition is in our lives and in our childrens' lives.  (Our children...listen to me.  I was worried about verging on the cloyingly sentimental, but now this just sounds like a bad political speech.)  I resolved to involve my hypothetical children in many different kinds of communities (perhaps religious, perhaps not, I haven't really thought about it) and try to incorporate routine gatherings into my life's plan for the future.  Please don't ask what else this plan entails, because frankly I really don't know.

Having realized all of this and feeling that renewal of energy that always follows the making of resolutions for the future, I spent the rest of the day on the Ile St Louis with Allie, drinking the richest and most decadent hot chocolate I've ever tasted.  They served it with water to cleanse the palate after each sip.  Mmmmm.  It's called Charlotte de Lille, folks.  And it's absolutely wonderful.  We walked around for a while and Allie bought a buche de noel for Christmas dessert, after which we headed back to her apartment and passed out on the bed for a few hours.  I went home and cooked a quick dinner of salmon, pasta, and salad (which turned out quite well given my limited cooking skills) and headed down to Notre Dame to meet Allie and some Reid Hall girls for midnight mass.  There was a mile-long line outside at 10:30 when I got there, but I ended up meeting them inside around 10:50 and stood in the crowded cathedral until 1 am, as there was no prayer (bad pun unintentional) of getting a seat.  It was the first time I'd seen a mass, and it was quite impressive.  Allie knew a lot of the benedictions and prayers since she was raised Catholic.  There was one I particularly liked, with a very majestic, triumphant-sounding refrain : "Aujourd'hui un seigneur nous est ne; C'est le Christ, notre Seigneur!"  We ran for the last trains of the night and I made it back snug and warm around 2:30.  I called home to wish everyone a merry Christmas eve and found out that my mother's father had passed away the night before.  I was surprised and sad, of course, but mostly I felt uncomfortable because I wanted to to do or say something consoling and didn't know how.  I had never known him, and I could tell that my mother was trying to be strong and wanted to recount all of the events impartially, but it was so sudden and so....well, the circumstances also made it difficult.  She hadn't seen him in 20 years and just recently (this November) went back home to Greece.  I think we're all glad she got to see him one more time before he died, but she had plans to go back this spring, and...well, how to feel when you realize that you will never meet someone you hoped one day to meet?  It made be think about the finality of death, the idea that things can just end one day, just like that, and when it happens it's really the end.  I just told her I loved her, and lit a candle for him the following morning at the Eglise St Julien Le Pauvre where I met Laura and her family for the morning service.  We were some of the first ones there, so I got to put the candle right in front of the icon.  It was an interesting service, also a mass, but greek/arab-inspired.  The priest shook incense from the front of the sanctuary, and it smelled....strong.  I could only understand the parts of the service that were in French, and I was sleepy from having gone to bed at 4 that morning, but it was nice to be with a large community of people on Christmas morning.  Laura and I had hot chocolate at a cafe with a splendid view of Notre Dame, and I told her about my ideas regarding the holidays and tradition in general.  She agreed.  I went over to Allie's that afternoon wearing the short black dress that I absolutely love (the "young" one) and her family was there.  They were all warm and funny and talkative, and Allie prepared a terrific meal (pea/potato soup and turkey breast with delicious sauce and garnishes) that got rave reviews all around.  Elena from Reid Hall was there and we stayed to talk for hours.  Then we left around 8, and I was going to meet Amelia at Montparnasse to see what was open on Christams day; Elena decided to come, so we all went to see The Golden Compass, which was really not bad at all.   

I'll fastforward through the next few days, because from Boxing Day to the 28th I didn't leave the apartment except to go grocery shopping (well, and to see Love in the Time of Cholera with Elena, which was just awful.  Bad acting, bad dialogue, bad music.  Bad. Bad. Bad.)  However, I finally mustered the courage to open a book (several, even) and start plowing through my voluminous tundra of presentations and readings and whatnot.  This was all with a plan in mind, of course.  I do not spend 8 hours in front of a computer screen without some kind of  well-deserved reward in view, and since I'd been planning a small birthday celebration on the 29th (my twentieth, or halfway-to-fortieth, as not being a teenager strikes me in different ways at different moments), I figured I could grin and bear it.  It was a grim three days, to be sure, but I finished an expose and a half and was overall quite satisfied with myself.  The 29th was spent cleaning the apartment from top to bottom, buying a large and colorful berry tart for dessert (which turned out to be quite the success), ice cream, chocolate, and things of that ilk.  It was a change of pace from research, certainly, but was equally exhausting.  I took a quick nap and left to meet friends at the metro at 7.  It was a great evening, and being surrounded by people I cared about made it perfect.  Ritsuko, Allie, Laura, Amelia, and her friend Courtney all came to the Italian restaurant with us (I'll admit the food was less than spectacular, but the prices were reasonable and the atmosphere was quite nice), and then we all trekked up the hill to my apartment for dessert.  It was wonderful just watching people interact, and I was reminded how nice it is to introduce warm, open people to one another.  Through our mixed English and French, everyone was able to communicate with everyone, and it made me happy.  I also received some lovely gifts that evening - a beautiful rose bouquet from Allie, which is still blooming in a vase on the dining table, Jeff de Bruges chocolates from Ritsuko, yummy hazlenut coffee and chocolate sticks from Amelia, and Les Mille et Une Nuits (which I can't wait to start) from Laura.  I went to sleep beaming, and didn't want the day to end.  Mostly, I didn't want to work the next day.

The 30th was another journee de galere, but I made it through.  I got a lot of research done for my French politics expose on intellectual engagement from 1945 to 1981.  It was interesting but very time-consuming, and I put in many hours just trying to weed out the pertinent information.  Pleased with the day's work, I determined to break on the 31st for New Year's eve, and Laura called and proposed going to the Champs Elysees to see fireworks.  In the morning, I got some Christmas shopping done for relatives (and yes, a shirt for myself, just one, really) at Galeries Lafayette, and then I came home and ate lunch.  Allie called and I met her family on the Ile St Louis that afternoon at yet another brasserie for gourmet hot chocolate - this time, the chocolate was melted in small pitchers and you poured the steaming milk over it.  Quite decadent, and a meal in itself, really.  Feeling guilty about the ratio calories consumed to calories burned in general over this vacation, I went home, took a shower, and made a salad for dinner to compensate for the hot chocolate.  Then over to the Champs Elysees for champagne and cocktails with Laura, a brief walk, and a small tete-a-tete in my apartment over ice cream.  My spirits renewed, I got to work in the early afternoon on New Year's Day and finished my expose just in time for a late dinner with Amy, Molly (just arrived in Paris!!!) and Allie.  The service was awful and the waiter didn't even bother to let us know that the restaurant was out of the assiette vegetarienne, so we were all pretty mad, but the walk back made things better.  Allie's apartment felt nice with just us four - intimate, cozy, and friendly - like a scene from "Friends." I wanted to stay and sleep over, but decided I'd better get home so I could do some things the next day.  So I caught a cab back and came back here to sleep after another long yet satisfying day. 

Which just about brings us to the present.  Today was calm and quiet.  Took a long walk from my apartment to St Germain and listened to some new music I downloaded - I've decided Carla Bruni's English album isn't nearly as good as the French, but "Those Dancing Days are Gone" is admittedly quite catchy.  Got a ham and fig sandwich for lunch and came back on the train.  Spent probably around 45 minutes washing dishes (I don't know how I managed to go four days without cleaning up after the party, don't judge), then tidied up, washed sheets, dryed them at the laundromat around the corner.  Made dinner, and decided I needed to write all of this down at some point, so I would remember this feeling in the future in case I need to.  It might come in handy.  I haven't felt this accomplished in a while, and it's not because of any one thing or even everything together.  It's really just the knowledge that I was able to do so many different kinds of things (research, writing, cooking, cleaning, party-planning, socializing, navigating, museum-and-church-going) during a period of time that I thought would be spent mostly alone in my apartment poring over books.  This is why I really can't say that I'm sad to go back.  I did everything I could ever hope to have done over this vacation, and have nothing left to desire from it.  I guess this is one of the few times I feel that I've taken full advantage of a period of time in my life.  It's a good feeling.      

in about ten minutes from now for the first time today, unless you count this afternoon's trip to Monoprix.  It's around 8:00 pm and this is going to be a lonely vacation, I can feel it.  In some ways I wish being social were less important to me, it certainly didn't matter last year, but since I've been here and had things to occupy the majority of my time I begin to feel restless when I don't have somewhere to go or something to do.  But of course I have things to do.  I have three exposes and discussion questions for sociology due next week.  I think it's time to start.

Anyway, I did have plans today, I really did, with Benjamin and Allie, but they didn't end up materializing.  So all I've done today is take a shower, go grocery shopping, watch TV with camembert and baguette, and call the family.  Texted the only people who were still here and made tentative plans to go to the Defense Christmas market tomorrow morning with Allie and a coffee date with Ritsuko in the afternoon.  Sometimes I get annoyed when people have to cancel things on short notice - I know I do it, too, and sometimes without a good reason - so I know I'm not justified in my annoyance. 

Well, off to the Champs Elysees to see Eleanor for a chat and then off to work.  Maybe.  No, don't think it'll happen tonight either...

and I'm tired, so this'll be brief.  Was awakened by a phone call from Richard at 11, and I really didn't have the patience or attention to make any real conversation, so we hung up quickly and I got the feeling that he was annoyed.  I have gotten this feeling more and more frequently when talking to him, and something inside me wishes there were a tactful way to call our friendship quits before things really start to go sour.  I feel as though, even with the limited experience I've had with close friends, I've learned over the years to see certain tell-tale warning signs that forebode the imminent death of a friendship.  Little everyday annoyances, small differences of opinion that lead to catfights, who moved whose cheese, etc.  Which are usually symptomatic of a greater divergence between two people, a splitting-of-the-ways that will happen regardless of what either person does to prevent it.  At the same time, I've never really broken up with a friend before, and wouldn't know how to start.  At this point, not answering phone and msn messages just seems childish and cowardly.

In any case, after hanging up I got dressed, quickly ate two magnesium fiber biscuits and chased them down with some coffee to mask the taste, and then spent the afternoon at the Musee national Picasso.  It's quite small, really, but the Cubism exhibit was interesting and contained all of the requisite brown/grayscale abstract works from the 1920s (La Femme aux Poires, Maisons sur une Colline, etc.).  And then upstairs were some war photographs of wounded civilians in Rwanda and Bosnia, which I guess were intended to tie into the theme of artistic representation of conflict that you see in Guernica and in other of Picasso's Spanish Civil War paintings.  Nothing particularly stood out to me, though I did like the Cubist rendering of Sacre Coeur, my favorite monument in Paris.

Afterwards I walked around the Marais for a bit, took a couple of streetcorner photos and attempted to enter the Bagel Store on the Rue de Turenne, only to be greeted with a "Desolee, Mademoiselle, il est 3h et on ferme."  Of course.  Why SHOULD I expect something to open at 3 pm on a weekday?  I was clearly just being unreasonable.  I wonder after how many times of being refused service "because we're closing in half an hour," or being forced by the silly formalities of the bureaucracy to come up with ID photos for everything I'll be able to just shrug my shoulders and not feel this flash of annoyance and frustration that comes every time I can't just DO something smoothly and efficiently as anticipated.  That was a long and ungrammatical sentence, but you get the idea.

Home in the cold and then spaghetti with tomato sauce, news, nap, and a few stretches of purely wasted time that I could have spent getting started on work but didn't, which didn't really bother me.  Allie and I were going to go out and paint the town red tonight after her paper was done, but since she hadn't finished it yet I stayed in for dinner and made saucisses de volaille with sauteed green pepper and onions and potatoes, which turned out quite well.  I went over to her place for a bit and it turned out she had a guest staying for the night, so we all sat around and talked and it was nice.  Relaxing, at any rate.  I enjoy late night conversations over cups of tea, safe and warm in the intimacy of an apartment living room.  It felt very homey and quite comfortable.

Well, I tend to have a difficult time with brevity, and I guess this just proves it.  1:30 am and bed is calling me. 

I've realized over these past few weeks what a shame it is  a) that I haven't recorded any of my Paris escapades in writing since the beginning of my sejour, b) that it has been literally months since I've written a coherent expository paragraph in English on a theme unrelated to political history or sociological theory, and c) that I am going to need something absorbing and time-consuming to distract me from the three exposés I have to do during this so-called vacation.

Mostly I just needed a semi-private, semi-public place to record my passing reflections at the end of each day before I lose them...that is if I ever really posess them in the first place.  Sometimes I feel as though thoughts are so transient that we never really own them unless we make them ours, and perhaps writing is one way to do this.  Of course, being at the apogée of my salad days and thus, for better or worse, as narcissistic and acquisitive as I will likely ever be, the idea of being able to make my thoughts uniquely mine by expressing them here appealed to me.

On a more practical note, I am interested in making these last six months in Europe as fulfilling as possible, and would appreciate any and all suggestions related to cultural events, museums, concert venues, etc.  I am student at a private American university (read : I am poor),  but am equally in need of diversions and maybe even some fun.  If you comment (non-anonymously, of course) I will respond, because, well, I always do, and because it's nice to hear advice/feedback from people one doesn't personally know...seeing as I don't plan on giving this link to anyone with whom I AM personally acquainted.  Anonymous comments are fine, too, of course, though two-sided communication is always preferable in my view.

Well, seeing as it's 1 am and I've neither the energy nor the mental resources to give a complete life history, this will have to suffice for now.  The rest will come au fur et à mesure de la narrative.  If all goes well, tomorrow will bring the first bagels I've had since I moved to Paris four months ago (anyone know a place called Bagel Shop somewhere near the Marais?) and a visit to the Musée Picasso, which I've been dying to see ever since Vanina recommended it in September.  Vive les vacances.  Well, pour l'instant...