There is always music

It has been 6 months since I have signed in and written anything on this blog. I wanted to save it for beautiful things, things rich in life and color and art. However, there is also beauty in truth, and I will be the first to admit, when the dust settled and the curtains were drawn on my fairytale existence in Paris, things got a bit hard.

Notably, I had experienced several very difficult situations that cause major setbacks. Most importantly, my 5 year relationship ended. Ended with him taking the apartment we were going to share starting in January and me down and out to find a new one. Luckily, I found one - a tiny chambre de bonne. In loose terms, what used to be maid's quarters, always located on the 7th floor of any given Haussmannien building, no elevator and often a communal bathroom shared by all residents of that floor. In Parisian terms, "!". Unluckily, I would experience plumbing problems of the worst kind, endless until the day I finally moved out (Saturday). And I won't even mention the cockroaches.

On top of this conundrum, one thing I must mention is this: Paris is expensive. While I would not have changed my chosen location for the world, living completely alone in a foreign country with little funds is hard.

Finally, after receiving the news that I had not been accepted into the Teaching Assistant Program established by the French government (my only real hope of staying in France), I had to bow out gracefully. Paris, the city that I love, has no place for me. At least not right now. I shed many a tear in my many (cheap) glasses of rosé.

-However-

I feel I have learned more about myself in these past 6 months than I have in many years put together. When you are in a seemingly impossible situation, you kind of have no choice but to be resourceful. It was my first time really being a full-time student, and now I know what that can be like, especially in a foreign country where finding a job is equivalent to knowing the language. It's not that my French wasn't good or even good enough (I am a French major, for heaven's sake), it's that I truly needed time to process all that I was learning. And after two horrible "trial day" incidents in a pub and a lingerie store, and 4 to 5 interviews that eventually went nowhere, I decided it was ok to allow myself time to be just that : a full-time student at 27.

In the past 6 months, I have been laughed at, made fun of, treated like a child, and told I wasn't ready. The funny thing is, I have never so readily been able to take these things in stride. Part of it is just knowing that the people that do these things really do not know me, and they do not know my potential. And you know what? They don't have to. I'm not going to bend over backwards to prove my intelligence or mental capacity to someone who already isn't willing to give me a chance. One of the most valuable lessons I have learned in Paris is that you simply cannot care what others may think. You just can't. As if it isn't hard enough to accept yourself and prove yourself to people in your own language, try doing it in a foreign one! :)

You may wonder what any of this has to do with music. Well, I'm getting there. ;) I have always been a musician at heart and music is the core of my being. I love France, but found that a big part of myself was lacking there. I had no piano, no way to express myself musically. Even still, music was all around me. 

One of my favorite things about Paris is the métro. It's a veritable eye and ear feast for anyone who is interested in observing people. I will never forget one of the first times I witnessed the token Paris métro musicien. These musicians usually have a tiny little amp fastened to a rolling cart that they plug into. Brilliant! Often they get on one car, play two or three songs, then go around with a little change cup. Some of them are not worth much, but often you'll hear ones who are actually talented, which makes for a pleasant metro ride.

These musicians run the gamut. From a man and his guitar to a full-fledged orchestra, you never know who will show up or where you will encounter them. 

Sometimes, Paris really presents itself like the magical world it is often thought of as. I heard some music coming from somewhere in my own backyard....

En fin, one of my favorite nights in Paris was spent with my best friend in Paris, Cate. As we had shared many triumphs and tribulations together, what better way to end our time together than go to a Sunday night bar sing along? This one is brought to you by the lovely Cinquante, a quaint bar along Canal St. Martin. We rejoiced in knowing we were to our knowledge the only Anglophones there ; anglophones who could actively participate in the weekly sing-along of classic French standards.

Thanks for reading. A très bientôt, ~erin

Language as Art

Well, the holidays are almost here and the month of December has indeed been interesting. Over my 4 months here (almost!), I have been sick a grand total of three times. Now, that may not seem like much, but this last sickness has lasted 3 weeks! You may ask, why oh why would I ever allow a sickness to linger so long? Well, I have a plenty of answers for that question. But first, let me introduce you to someone I have been spending a lot of time with recently.

Voici Kyara.

Just look at that face. Isn't she adorable? Her mother is Russian, her father is French. Her mother was my teacher for the intensive French session I took when I arrived, and she needed a baby-sitter. Having asked my best friend here, Cate, who could not do it, the job literally fell into my lap (er, email inbox). Two days a week, not a big commitment. So I said, why not? 

For anyone who has never cared for children, let me tell you, it is definitely hard work. I pick her up from school (a bilingual school for a two-year-old!), must make sure I pick up all her necessary objects (notebooks, coat/scarf, her panda or her doll Nina, whichever she has chosen that day, her backpack...), then I place her in the poussette, or stroller. It is also obligatory that every day I show up with a croissant, or else she will insist immediately with one of her favorite words, pain, pain? Now this may not sound so hard, but the hardest part is not only understanding the babblings of a limited-vocabulary two-year-old, but the babblings in another language no less. Thirdly, sometimes it is in Russian. Do I understand Russian? No! Not at all! I came to France ...to study...French? However, I may understand Russian when I have finished with this experience. For the first few weeks I was watching her, sometimes she would cry and keep repeating something that sounded like "mama-kosha." I asked both her father and her mother, to no avail (for all I know I wasn't phrasing the question in an understandable manner). Then one day, it dawned on me. Her mother's name is Katia. So all those times she has started crying, she really wanted her mother. Great! 

Things have become better since October when I first met Kyara. Luckily, she loves me now. And I have even become somewhat of friends with her mother, as I am joining them this Saturday for les réveillons, or Christmas Eve as we call it. But being with Kyara, as with all my experiences here, has just re-enforced a strong belief that has occurred to me more than ever during my time abroad: learning another language is hard. work. It's not that I didn't know it already, but coming to France has been quite the eye-opener.

Now, some people may say that it's not, some people may say "but everyone speaks English...". I assure you those people are wrong. To truly learn a language is an art, and learning French has been if not the most difficult thing I have tried to accomplish, certainly one of the most difficult. And sure, everyone speaks English, but what's the fun in that? (In fact, the French would like to think they speak English, but sometimes it is quite funny to hear :)))). Anyway, even the French admit their language is very difficult to learn, and inevitably, they all tell me I speak well after they ask me the same introductory questions I am used to receiving, to which I respond, "um...not really."

There are so many aspects one can discuss about learning another language. I have found that most of my trouble lies within the boundaries of being too much of an intellectual (I can talk about dense aspects of literature but not simple things like the weather, or even small talk. Some things don't change, especially in another language). Surprisingly, I have discovered, I'm not much of a good listener in French. I must cut myself some slack on this though, as everything surrounding the learning of a language is incredibly draining, and one does not always have the energy to formulate sentences or interrogations and express himself the best he can (you know, necessary elements to a conversation :))). However, I think for the most part my problem has been that I am such a perfectionist. I am incredibly well-spoken in English, so of course I want to be in French as well. But after just 4 months here I am learning to stop being so hard on myself. Four months and years of study in the U.S. is actually not adequate for speaking a language well, and anyway, even people who have grown up here do not speak well. Interesting concept, n'est-ce pas?

So, my new year's resolution is to stop trying to control so much. Just listen. Respond. Do the best I can. Don't worry about being judged too harshly. At least Kyara loves me and my broken French negotiations of why, no, you cannot have the second croissant in my bag because you already had yours. (in fact, no, this made her quite upset). Anyway, I am quite sure of it, I have picked up this recent bout of sickness from her or any of the snot-nosed kids at La Petite École Bilingue. 

Anyway, along with the endless battles I must face each day with the language, the moments of triumph shine ever-so-brighter, and I always try to remember these in times of frustration. One of my favorite things about baby-sitting has been taking Kyara to the playground. There are tons of little French-speakers running around everywhere, and the lovely things is, they speak so simply it is actually easy to understand them (unlike their Parisian-parent counterparts, I'm sure!). One time I was spinning Kyara in one of those spinny-chairs at the playground, and a little girl of about 7 or 8 ran up to me. She started talking to me simply, eventually asking, regarding Kyara, "Elle est pas ta fille?" Shortly after I told her, no, Kyara is not my daughter, her mother was calling for her from afar, making sure she was staying out of trouble. Boisterous and proud, she replied, pointing at me, "Non, mama, c'est ma puce!" 

Sure, I was her new girlfriend. I don't mind making friend with 8-year-olds, if they are accepting of my broken French. It is rather nice, actually. I accept. :)

Les Différences Culturelles

I have been trying my hardest to collect a fichier of notable cultural differences between France and the United States. Granted, I have not traveled outside of Paris yet, so the file is still growing as there are certainly other differences outside the bubble of Paris. In fact, I suspect that comparing Paris with other parts of France is like comparing New York City to, say, Iowa. :) Les grandes différences, indeed!

First off, I will say this: I have coffee every morning. Sometimes one cup, if I'm lucky, two. After a few years of working an office job, and many more years working directly inside the coffee industry in Chicago, it is not only a morning ritual but imperative for my sanity when waking up at 7a.m. to go to class. That being said, I do not appreciate the countless stares I receive during my nearly 1-hour transit to school, being the sole person on the train with a to-go cup in hand. Anyway, it's Bodum, okay?! They're a Swiss company...doesn't that count for something?!

All jokes aside, it does feel rather strange to know there are just certain things I do, from the way I dress down to the most minute mannerism, that are, dare I admit, downright American. When I first arrived in Paris, this bothered me so much that I tried desperately to blend in, even if it meant giving up a little personal integrity. (I said a little, not a lot ;) ) The good news is, I succeeded when I really wanted to, though I am finding more and more that there are some things about me that can never be French, such as my rounded facial structure or even my blonde hair. And you know what? That is perfectly fine. I went from shooting back glares at French women turning up their noses at my coffee cup to just allowing them to stare. It's not hurting me, and in fact, if they have a problem with my insistence to bring a coffee with me in the morning, the problem is, in actuality, theirs! In fact, anyone that passes judgement on the Paris Metro of another human being over something as trivial as this has surely not traveled far outside the bubble of Paris.

Aside from the lack of beverages on the train (not including liquor hiding ever-so-discretely in coke bottles of French teenagers on the weekend), the differences are enormous. All you have to do is be open to them and observant, and you will notice a plethora of other distinctions between France and the U.S. Voila my running file..

• Cashiers are allowed to sit down while they work in supermarkets. Now I know this may seem like an odd thing for me to notice, but after years of working in the service industry, on my feet all day long, day-in, day-out, this seems revolutionary - one point for France for this one! Who would've thought that a corporation such as a supermarket would actually care enough about their workers to allow them to sit down in the same place they would just be standing all day? Then again, with France's notoriety for being a socialist-leaning country, it seems only natural.
• Often, their are shared toilets. Not exactly a canny observation, but noteworthy, nonetheless. At my university, this is just the way it is. You go into the stall as a girl to do your business, and realize their is a guy doing his business just outside. Eek! This is not exactly something that really bothers me, but if you are a person who prefers privacy to do your business, beware! Need I even mention what happens if you don't just need to pee? (Also, often their are no toilet seats. Zut.)
• There really is a sense of propriety and old-fashioned-ness everywhere you go. If you have never visited France, it is important to note that every time you enter a shop/patisserie/boulangerie, it is custom to say, "Bon jour" or "Bon Soir," and it is considered rude not to say these things. Once again, this is something I prefer, being in France and not the United States. In the U.S., sometimes this happens, but usually if it does, the person is trying to sell you something. Here, it is just simple acknowledgement of your presence, not forced, with no expectations. Likewise, upon exiting, you say, "Merci, au revoir!," even if you have purchased nothing.
• Many stores and supermarkets are closed on Sundays. Once again, this may not seem like something worth noting, but in our fast-paced America, I imagine some people would be outraged to realize they can't buy their 10 packs of Doritos and 12 pack of Mountain Dew for the week. I will admit, it definitely took awhile to adjust to this aspect, but you get used to it. Naturally, Sunday seems a good day to go grocery shopping, but too bad! You will just have to run your errands on Saturday instead. 
• Speaking of places being closed, don't expect to get anything done here, errands-wise. Ever. It has been 3 months, and I just received my bank card. This is partly my fault for failing to go the right branch in the first place, but I cannot describe all of the horror stories my friends and I have heard/personally encountered with trying to get ourselves established à Paris. As if finding housing wasn't hard enough, you want to pick up your bank card? You have to wait until you have provided the proper documentation, and no, they cannot mail it to you. And believe me, the day you finally have time to go, they will be closed for their 2-hour lunch. Or the cash machine will be broken. Or you will have forgotten your passport. Ok, I am venturing into bitter territory, but it's the same with the office of my exchange program and also with many restaurants. If you're hungry at 3 p.m. and want a legitimate meal, pardon my English, but you're just merde out of luck. Reluctantly, I grant one point to America for efficiency in this arena.
• Kisses, bisous, double, always! It is likely that most people know this about the French, or at least most Americans, but when you are meeting someone on a friendly basis, either a friend-of-a-friend, or a new friend (after you have established that you are friends, never before!), you kiss each other twice, one kiss for each cheek. I remember the first time I encountered this behaviour, it seemed so oddly terrifying, but I must say now, it is quite nice. :) In fact, I prefer it tremendously over a stale handshake. It is much more affectionate, and believe it or not, it can even make you suddenly care for and treasure a person more. Now, there's an interesting sociological study! As if you can't already tell, there is not a lot of space in Europe, and if we have to be so close anyway, why not just embrace it? 

............

I'm sure there are more differences that I am simply not remembering or haven't yet noticed, but I am sure they will be discovered along this road that is all at once an overwhelming, fulfilling, and curious existence in Paris.

A bientôt, e r i n

Sleepless Nights

As one can imagine, it is not difficult to find things to do in Paris. In fact, everywhere you turn, there is a flyer here advertising the latest electro star passing through Club Rex, a 15-foot poster there advertising the latest Cannes sensation. This is, in part, why I called this blog desnuitsblanches. In French, to "passer une nuit blanche" means to have a sleepless night. Though I haven't had a true nuit blanche yet, I have come close by just attempting to take in the city and the people every chance I get.

However, not every cultural experience has to be a trip to the Louvre (which I still haven't braved yet!) or an elevator ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower. In fact, as a student, it is almost imperative to find things to do that don't require beaucoup d'euros. It takes some research and planning to have a cultural outing on the cheap, but it is possible!

CD mountain at the Musée Centre Quatre, free modern art space in the 19ème arondissement

However, sometimes, if you are paying attention and keeping an open mind, the art finds you...

and you don't even have to pay admission...

...............

I've found that some of my favorite things, the pieces of art I find truly interesting, are often the things others may think of as trash. In fact, if there is anything Paris has a plentitude of, besides boulangeries and cigarettes, it's street art. Forget the Van Gogh's and the Monet's - you must pay to see those! - Paris itself is a living, breathing, modern city of people expressing themselves, anytime, anywhere, and by any method possible. Though Paris is expensive, everywhere you turn there is something new to see, and most of the time, you can experience that for free.

Inside the bathroom stall at Paris III - La Sorbonne Nouvelle

On the corner of my street (with a barred window)

Le Marais somewhere, 4ème arondissement

Université de St. Denis-Vincennes, Parisian suburbs

Rue de l'Ourcq, 19ème arondissement

A little taste of home - the Seedy TAPE Bar, near Bastille

Personal Favorite, near Rue Oberkampf

..............................

One of Paris' main attractions is entitled, in fact, La Nuit Blanche. It happens twice a year, in the Fall and in the Spring, and is a magical night where Paris turns into one enormous art gallery. Though this also takes a lot of planning (as I have learned now from experience!), it is well worthwhile to participate.  This is a unique hybrid of all things art, and artists from all over the world are invited to participate.  However, I think there are enough photos already in this post. For those, you will just have to wait. :)

A bientôt,

e r i n

Presumptions and Preparations

Ah, Paris in autumn. The leaves are falling. The air is crisp. The train est bloquer. Les gens sont les gens. 


And, though some may beg to differ, I believe it's true: there are many stinky people in Paris.

After two months here, I've decided that now is a good time to mention a few other things about studying abroad, or even re-locating to a foreign country for that matter. I mentioned before that it has not been easy, but I think it is important to elaborate on this. There are so many things one cannot possibly prepare for, but there are many things that you can mentally prepare for, if given the right pointers. Here are a few things I wish someone would've told me... and maybe they can help you!

1) Don't assume people can speak your language
I know this may seem like an absurd thing to mention, but any Anglophone who goes to live in a foreign country is in for a few surprises. That being said, moving to Paris as a native English speaker is much easier than say, moving to Paris as a Mandarin speaker. However, as a student attempting to truly learn the language, the fact that some people speak English is equally a blessing and a curse. The moment you hesitate on a word or the structure of a sentence, Parisians will tell you, "In English, if it's easier." But...but....I'm learning French? I'm trying to speak French? I don't want to fall back on my English! Perhaps it is easier elsewhere, but Paris is a fast-paced city, and people have things to do and places to be. :)

I know it may seem like I'm contradicting my point here, but the real point is, I have also encountered many people who simply do not speak English. You need to get your point across? Find a way to communicate even if you don't have the words. Use gestures, point, attempt a Frenglish word. This has been quite a learning process, as I really have not assumed anyone spoke English, but it becomes very obvious you're not a native French-speaker the second you hesitate, which sometimes - okay, often - causes people to lose patience with you, naturally, and makes you feel a bit inadequate. However, it is all part of the process! I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am a foreigner. And you know what? That is fine. It does not make you stupid, slow, or even inadequate. If people lose patience with you, or even become frustrated with you, it is just best to remind yourself that it's really not your problem (as long as you're trying :))))) And I cannot express my elation on good French days when I am able to actually communicate with Parisians, get my point across, even make jokes that people actually understand and laugh at! Sometimes I fail miserably, but hey, you can't win them all.

2) Don't worry if people assume you can't speak theirs
It has been endlessly fascinating to interact with the French and see all of the different reactions one gets when trying to communicate with them in their language. There have been numerous French people who have told me I speak well. Now, this could be considered a good thing if half of those numerous people didn't surmise this conclusion after you've responded to 2 or 3 questions they've asked (most likely the same boring questions everyone asks of each other upon first meeting). Au contraire, what they say is true: to receive a compliment from a French person is plutôt rare, and indeed, you should accept it with grace (nary a hint of your bursting, childlike gratitude) and, quite possibly, believe it.

On the other hand (there is always an other hand), you may encounter many people, even people you respect, who are quick to judge your level, even insulting or degrading you. I have had not one, but two professors tell me I had mal comprehension when I approached them regarding an already stressful situation. Not exactly what you want to hear from someone who is supposed to build you up, especially given the fact that you're struggling to adjust to everything in your new home country. However, take it in stride. Often the fleeting, snappy interactions that happen so frequently do not leave much margin for error. Et moi, I am a spacy person in my home country. What makes me think here would be any different? I've never been good at small talk, or des petites échanges...

3) There will be many things that are just out of your control
This goes hand-in-hand with point number one, but beyond. I cannot even tell you how much money I've spent given the weakness of the dollar compared to the euro. Normally, I am a very organized albeit neurotic person, but all of that goes out the window here. You cannot possibly be that way when you don't have a complete grasp on the language, the culture, the customs, the market! There will be many, many things you buy or spend your money on at first that you later realize may not have been the best deal. In fact, it is very easy to be ripped off when you are unaware of everything. Is this really the best price for this grocery item? Who cares, I am beyond tired from trying to communicate with people all day. Are these bootlegged DVD's really worth 3 euro? No, in fact, they were dubbed in Russian - and I thought I couldn't understand French! Do I really want to live in this quartier populaire where I don't feel safe walking home at night? No, of course not, but it's either that or be homeless. Do I really want to pay a 1000 euro agency fee for an apartment? Well, non, but it's either that or be homeless again. Do I like surimi? No, in fact, it's some sort of crab paste that looks like normal crab before you bite into it. Do I really want to stay out past 1:40 when the last train leaves the station? Yes, even if it means being stranded in a cab line with 20 other people at Opéra at 4 in the morning. Because I am hanging out with French people and having fun and you only live once! In Paris, no less!

3) No matter what, keep a positive attitude
I know this may seem cliché, but I have encountered so many hurdles in just trying to get established here that I would've been crushed had I not maintained a level-head. Between going to the bank 5 times and then realizing finally it was a branch mix-up, being forced into taking a place that I not only didn't want but was in a bad neighborhood, between being approached by men in ways we would consider aggressive in the United States and waiting in line 20 minutes - every time! - at the grocery store, it is important to relax. Things could be worse. I am living in arguably the most amazing city in the world, and having an amazing experience.

The best things in life are not usually cheap or easy. I will cherish every moment, and am glad technology makes it so easy for me to keep a record....:)

A bientôt,
e r i n

Je suis ici...

Hello. Or rather, I should say bonjour. This is my first real entry for this blog, a document of my experiences living abroad. I am now situated in the 19ème arrondissement à Paris. The weather has been agreeable thus far, but a chill has just entered the air and people are now whipping out their scarves and jackets.  Interestingly enough, I have noticed people were actually attempting to wear them before (avant!) it was actually necessary, often causing a curious smell on the metro. People also do this in the U.S., as if the mere mention of October sends a shiver up the spine rather than cooling the Indian summer air. Despite this similarity though, there are many cultural differences as one might imagine. However, after all, we are all human and I have already had many exchanges with people of different varieties. It's eye-opening to be a foreigner after so many pacifying years in the United States, as a U.S. citizen.  

I have a little Alessi stovetop (actually a possession of the girl I am subletting from). I have tile à l'ancienne, or should I say old-fashioned (The French would say "kitsch." :)))) I have a red toilet seat! I know all of these things seem trivial but it is just the sheer attention to detail that the French (and Europeans) seem to possess that intrigues and delights me. There is something so fanciful about making light switches square plastic buttons that glow on all sides rather than tiny little knobs that must be found in the dark. Paris has truly been a magical experience thus far, and despite the many bumps one experiences in getting acclimated, I feel I am learning a lot, meeting interesting people, and more importantly, experiencing the je-ne-sais-quoi of French culture. Walks on the Seine, seeing the Eiffel Tower light up on the hour, buying groceries at the Monoprix, having the cashier yell at me because I did not know you had to weigh and price your vegetables, having a stranger hold the doors of the metro when I almost got smashed after attempting a late entry...all of these things I have experienced and taken in stride. And don't even get me started on the daily frustrations of not being able to adequately communicate! However, somehow, I have managed, I am here, and through will power alone, I have somehow been able to become as self-sufficient as I was back home. I plan to examine these things more in detail in other entries, but for now, I need to get out and enjoy the sunshine. First, I will enjoy it on my favorite place in the apartment...my balcony.... 

A bientôt, e r i n

b o n j o u r

je suis ici. :)