Waking up early is a pain, recall that I become a demon
child when the sun rises, but today it wasn't so bad. I really wanted to just
return home, yes home, to Le Havre. I love Paris and I enjoy travelling, however
I also enjoy being a lazy sloth on Sundays. Good news is that I would be able
to sloth away in the afternoon. Bad news is that the train for Le Havre left at
8:40 am. We made it, don't worry. I just hate doing anything before noon is
all. Ha, MareBear problems. At least Kate and I enjoyed a coffee from Starbucks
before we left. She had a holiday salted caramel thing and I had a basic latte.
I also had an encounter with a homeless bum. There I was, innocently sitting in
Starbucks waiting for Kate to return from the bathrooms with sleaze bag decided
to enter the café. He went up to a few parties of people and begged for some
money. He then thought he'd try his luck with me. Dumbass. I used to work at convenience
store and a handful of my customers were Iowa City bums. Why would I give
anyone tax free money so that they could buy booze or cigarettes? Simple, I
wouldn't and I don't. I instinctively clutched my purse when he slunked over to
my area, natural reaction. One never knows what a desperate person might do.
This one decided to call me and a girl to my left a couple of selfish bitches.
He said that it would be our fault if he died of hunger later that night.
First, you're mean. Second, you're still a dumbass. The girl turned to me after
slimy slithered out of Starbucks empty-handed and said, "he's
terrible." I agreed, but gave her a smile. Sometimes there's nothing you
can do if someone decides to be a jerk like that except stand your ground, let
the moment pass, and smile that it's over. Audience, I realize the man looks to
be in a horrible situation and he probably is. But that's his situation in
which he should take proper means to solve of which begging is not a part. No,
bums have none of my sympathy because they've given up on being functioning
humans. Of course I'd sing otherwise if I were a part of their choir, but I'm
not. So audience, in my defense I did the correct thing. Also I am too cheap to
part with a euro. The train ride back was wonderful, so peaceful and Panic!
filled. I realize how odd that sounds, but Panic! At The Disco songs invoke
both happiness and a clear state of mind in me. I often listen to The Boxer by
Simon and Garfunkel when I travel, but today I was in the mood for Brendon
Urie. He did not disappoint my eardrums. The rest of the day was spent writing
blogs, editing chapters, creating packing lists, slothing in the docks, and
even cleaning dishes. What a misadventure, what a fun misadventure.
December 15th
I coughed up a storm last night, sad. I woke up on time and
was ready to go at 8:40 am, good. Kate and I made it on our train with no
problems, very good. We arrived in Paris had some sushi at Galerie Lafayette,
aw yeah. We then hopped on the metro lines to the Eiffel Tower for their
Christmas market, great. After some hot spiced wine we found Jonathan, kick
ass. Then the day started. Due to length of this blog I am going to crunch it
into chunks for clear and concise consumption. C's rock, here we go!
Morning/Day. Kate, Jonathan, and I, the current
"we", took several pictures around and of the Eiffel Tower. I'm never
sure why we always do this, but somehow the Eiffel Tower has to be the backdrop
of tons of photos when we're in Paris together. It was a lot fun, especially
for Kate. Jonathan happened to bring his nice, and by nice I mean expensive,
camera with him this time and allowed Kate to use it. She snapped probably over
twenty pictures, that might be an understatement, in the Eiffel Tower area
alone of both Jonathan and me, though mostly Jonathan. She was like a kid on
the first day of summer, just running around with giddy giggling glee and fancy
camera. Besides pictures we did actually browse the markets. I found, and am
proud of this, a gingerbread cookie in the shape of a frog. I have a feeling
the reason I bought it was because of my subconscious love of frogs or
frog-like creatures. Namely bulbasaur. Remember when I was sleep deprived after
pulling an all-nighter for a French essay? I drew a frog/baby bulbasaur on my
arm for no apparent reason besides the fact that I wanted it there. Well this
cookie stood out to me and I felt an uncontrollable need to have it. It was
without a doubt my best purchase of the day.
Afternoon. We, still the troublesome trio of Anglos, moved
on to another area of Paris. Notre Dame. Every time I look at that building I
flush in the face. I cannot help myself, I'm just in love with the place. How I
always wish that I could time travel to when it was solely a cathedral and not
a tourist trap. Back when it was sanctuary with all of its glorious bells
ringing in the towers. Sigh, I'm only able to visit that Notre Dame in my
dreams. At least I can gaze upon the real thing. Luckily for us there was a
market right by Notre Dame. I picked up some final Christmas gifts for my slew
of chums back in the States and admired some of the various merchandise. My
favorite stand was one that sold garters. That's right, a garter stand. And
they were expensive too! Twenty euros for a garter, pretty steep guys.
Although, these garters were by far the most eccentric, exciting, and elegant
that I have ever seen. I've been garter shopping before, prom happened for me audience.
These were definitely wedding class with all their lace and ribbons. Too much
for prom, a least my prom. Truth be told I didn't spend more than five dollars
on the garter that I wore for prom; two reasons, it was prom and my date wasn't
worth that expense. Ouch, I'm cruel. Moving back to the present, now. That
wasn't the only "interesting" stand at the Notre Dame market. Right
next to the garter shop was a corset booth. Ah France you are funny. Little
children running around with candy in hand and Christmas in heart and you still
sell sexy lingerie that has nothing to do with the season as though it were
part of the holiday spirit. This is why you amuse me France, this is why.
Late Afternoon. Worst part about this section of the
hemisphere, sunshine in the morning with heavy rain hours later. Great. Ah
well, water won't hurt a handsome man or something like that. Sadly our little
group had moved on to the Odéon area in the hopes of seeing the Luxemburg
gardens. The sad part is that the gardens now close at 4:30 pm due to sunset being
earlier. We arrived at the gates right as the clock chimed 4:32 pm. Crap. We
decided that we would just head over to the designated restaurant for dinner,
we were hungry after a day of market browsing, but were stopped by a text
message. You see audience, the plan for today was to meet Paula in Paris. She
had arrived in Paris the night before and stayed with a French friend overnight.
Kate and I had presumed that Paula would be spending the day with us at the
markets, we presumed wrong. She slept in until around one, and became ready
around three, informing us at 4:37 pm that she will meet us for dinner at 6:00
pm. Would've been fine, sept for the location. You see the restaurant that we
were going to eat at has two locations in Paris. We were close to one, she was close
to the other. Guess which one we ended up at? Yeah the other which turned out
to be a pain in the ass to go to since the Metro decided to clog itself with
people. I must say, although harsh it is hilarious to see people squish onto
the subway at the very last second only to have their hand caught in the
automatic door. Harsh, of course, but slapstick hilarious.
Evening. We made it to the restaurant, which is in the
red-light region of Pigalle Paris, at 6:23 pm. We rushed too, but it was
alright. Paula wasn't there yet, and would be about twenty minutes late from
our arrival giving us some time to settle down. The name of the restaurant was
The Indiana Café. No audience, it was not decked out in IU hosier attire or
Cults banners. Rather it had pictures and trinkets of Native Americans to
appeal to its southwest style. And the French think that we're stupid. Well we
are, not all the time but America we fluke a lot especially with other cultures.
However, France flukes just as bad if not worse. You need only to look at a map
of the United States to see that the state Indiana is nowhere near the
southwest badlands; it is Midwest farms filled with hosiers. Plus let's tack on
the fact that there aren't any Indians, sorry Native Americans, in the state of
Indiana. No reservations, no tribes, no prominent Indian history. True that the
name of the state is derived from the word "Indian", but so are
almost all the others. Illinois is an Indian rooted name, apparently it’s the
French version of an Algonquin Indian word for "warriors" or
"tribe of superior men. Indiana along with many states had its name coined
from what the old tribes described the land as. Yes Indians lived all over the
states back in the day, but the idea of southwest Indian tribes that hunted
bison and had guerilla styled battles with cowboys is nowhere near Indiana.
This restaurant in short, completely rules. The food is fantastic, they have
that down fine. I had a very American and very "uncouth" dish as my dinner,
barbecue ribs and wings with potato wedges and coleslaw. Hell yeah. Jonathan
said something along the lines of, "your dinner is bigger than you
are!" I of course laughed at this and devoured my meal, all of it. Paula
made it before I finished my meal and commented on how well suited it was for
me. Yay the "we" has finally turned into four! It was good to see her
and her reaction to the restaurant. Pretty confident that she loved it, yeah
confident. After my amazing meal I had a lightish dessert of hot chocolate with
fresh whipped cream. That also kicked ass, but not as much as my meal. Why?
Well hot chocolate and cream are two things France does very well. It's no
surprise that the hot chocolate was wonderful, thus not as kickin'. Pictures
were taken, menus were stolen, and hands were scrubbed clean. Second best meal
of the semester*, and it wasn't even French.
Late Evening. Ok, here's where we, and by we I mean me,
screwed up. So the plan was to spend the day in Paris and take a train back to Le
Havre the same night. I had thought that there was a later train than 8:20 pm
that left St. Lazare for Le Havre. I thought wrong. Yeah, I really screwed that
one. You see audience I made the mistake of reading the arrival board rather
than the departure board. Sure there were trains from Le Havre arriving in
Paris after 8:20 pm, but none of them were going back until the morning. Crap!
Paula, Kate, and Jonathan somewhat freaked out in their own ways. Paula called
her French friend to see if she had a solution, Kate stood silently in shock,
and Jonathan leaned on the railing with a frown on his face. Internally the
word "fuck" was going through their minds. What did I do? What was my
reaction? I went to the bathroom, call of nature and whatnot. I actually was
very calm in the situation, the word fuck only went through my mind maybe six
times which is low for bad situations. I decided to call my parents and tell
them what happened because I was going to rent a room for Kate and me in Paris
for the night. After explaining what happened to my mother she gladly told me
that staying in a hotel was fine, no issue. Sweet, that was resolved quickly. I
told the group the good news and everyone did a sigh. The only snag was where
we were going to stay. Jonathan assisted with that one. Not too long ago he
stayed in a hotel in Nation called Hotel Cosy that was both reasonably priced
and rather nice. Again, sweet that was solved rapidly. Unfortunately every
situation, even when fixed, has its somber sides. Kate wasn't feeling too hot,
possibly from dinner or the amount of cotton candy that she had eaten earlier,
and need to reach a bed for some R&R. Thus we, now back to the three, all
said goodbye to dear Paula before departing for Nation. We made it to the hotel
in due time and had Kate in bed soon after check-in. The beds at Hotel Cosy are
amazing. My opinion of mattresses is skewed due to the sheer awfulness of my
bed in Le Havre, regardless these beds were plush and flexible. Finally I will
have a good night’s sleep, it's been too long. However, I didn't go to bed
right away, oh no. It was too early and I was thirsty. Time for a fruity drink.
Night. Once Kate was settled in the room, which was equipped
with twin beds, Jonathan and I left to go have a drink. Fortunately Hotel Cosy
has Café Cosy right next door, easy access and easy return. Good work guys.
Normally I'd have a beer or a basic vodka and coke, but I was feeling American
that night. Thus Pina Colada was served to me. Jonathan's face when I ordered it,
totally priceless. Hey, we all have our moments when we just want a taste of
home. I was concerned when the drink arrived for it had a glow stick in it. Yes
the glow stick was sealed and yes I wasn't poisoned. But it's still a tube with
toxic chemicals floating in my Pina Colada. A bit uncertain if you ask me.
Besides the poison stick that loves to illuminate the world with its green presence,
I enjoyed Café Cosy. Jonathan and I, the writing prudes that we are, discussed
literature over our drinks. I know, how dull of us. But why do you care
audience? You weren't forced to sit in on our dialogue exchanges, only forced
to read my sentences recalling the event. I'm glad I have a nerdy/remarkable
friend like Jonathan; it makes grammar, book, and blog chats both mutually
interesting and entertaining. True friendship right there.
Sleep. Although I coughed throughout a good chunk of the
night, definitely best sleep of the semester. Yeah, our dorm beds suck that
much. Tis all audience!
*The best meal was the dinner that Madame Racadot cooked for
me.
December 14th
Aight it's Friday, and it totally blows. Why? Because I'm
still sick damnit! Man audience, you need to lay back on the question asking.
Truth be told, about this Friday not you, it was only the morning that sucked.
In the afternoon, when I finally woke up, I received a call from Kate. She
wanted to know if I needed anything since she was out on Cours de la
Republique. Normally I would have politely refused due to my nature of not wanting
to be nurtured by those I consider equals. It's not that I don't appreciate
favors and proposals, it is just my pride as a Scale* to refuse coddling. But,
this wasn't a "normally" situation. I was sick, very sick with a
probable upper respitory infection. Thus, I said sure to Kate's kind offer, plus
I was running out of orange juice. She bought me a fresh bottle of orange
juice, pulp included of course, and a hot Rome panini. I had not eaten all day,
another thing gear grinder, and sick MareBear needed some sustenance. I love
Rome paninis, but this one was like eating a sandwich coated in angel dust. So
delicious, so fantastically delicious. After I scarfed my panini down, followed
by a mug of orange juice, Kate and I watched some films. I guess that's what
you do on a sick day with a friend, watch Anglo movies with French subtitles.
In total we saw three flicks; Where the Truth Lies, Mother and Child, and The
Deep Blue Sea. I liked Where the Truth Lies the best out of the three, Kate preferred
Mother Child. I enjoy dramas such as Mother and Child, it was a great film, but
I can't watch them again. Dramas to me are best viewed once, at least sad
dramas that take place in a universe of realism. Why do I say this? Well one of
my favorite movies, A.I., is a drama but also a sci-fi. It has the special
effects, humor moments, and small dosage of action shots; aka it is not a
typical drama. I don't know why I don't enjoy "regular" dramas a
second time around, but I often find myself bored rather than interested. Now
action or suspense films I love rewatching. Where the Truth Lies is a great
suspense, in my opinion, and I will gladly rewatch it in the future. How was The
Deep Blue Sea? Terrible in truth. It didn't have an interesting story-line just
consequences to an affair and pending divorce, and no character development.
Sadly pretty actors are only a section of the basic equation of successful film
making. The best scene in the entire film was when a man was singing
"Molly Malone" during a sky bombing of London. It's such a classic
song and the singer had a pure melodic voice. Yeah, it was the best scene. Once
we were done watching movies Kate and I parted for some shut-eye. It is key
that I am in better health tomorrow for we are returning to Paris for some more
Christmas Market shopping. Sleep, please don't be riddled with coughing, again.
Please?
*Ladders now and forever
December 13th
Phlegm is not supposed to have blood in it, ugh. Yup I am
officially sick and it officially is a pain in the ass. Why? Well, sick
children are allowed to stay home for fear of infecting their fellow elementary
comrades. However, sick adult-children are not allowed to stay home and must attend
classes regardless. What? The sick adult-children might spread disease to other
college students? Nah, couldn't happen. Why? Simple, all the other college kids
are also sick with some sort of virus. Pleasant environment no? Under the
assistance of Dayquil I survived class today. There weren't many cogs turning
in my brain, but such is my state when my fluids are mixed with spots of blood
after coughing fits. I know, I am that attractive. Regardless of being under
the weather, I was able to attend the international student event this evening.
I wasn't especially energetic, but I did enjoy myself. This party was that of a
pot-luck; many students brought different desserts from their countries in
order to spread culinary culture. Paula and I bestowed an American classic upon
the other foreign students, puppy chow. That's correct, we made puppy chow for
everyone. Turns out, they loved it. Then again there are very few who don't
enjoy Chex-like cereal covered in melted chocolate with dusted powdered sugar
on top. Again, classic. Besides the puppy chow success, the rest of the party
was relatively normal. Although, there was an unexpected entertainment that was
performed to the delight of us students. Our teachers, more specifically Erich
Martel and Michael Hauchecorne, were dancing among us. Oh boy, life is so good.
Martel is apparently really into dancing which I must admit isn't too
surprising; he is on the "who cares" fringe of life. Michael, or Mama
Duck, was the real surprise. But hey, they were having fun and the rest of us
were having fun taking pictures. Although at the moment my health is in
question of being stable, it was a great night and worth the risk of increasing
my decreasing well-being.
December 12th
Medieval history, why are you incredibly dull at times?
Today's lesson was about the different structure styles of lord houses. Yippee,
I can barely contain my excitement. At least I understand the lectures, though
at this point for the sake of my brain tissues leaking from my ears I wish that
I were deaf. Aight, that's a bit harsh, but we all have these moments. Mine
happen to occur during lectures on middle aged architecture that is based upon
the use of three wooden poles, literally. After class Paula and I swung by Mickey
D's for some well-deserved sodas. I have a complaint though, heh what a
surprise. My issue is the price of a medium coke in France. It is 2.20 euros
which is about $2.80. Sure, that doesn't seem like a lot, well it wouldn't be a
deal at all if the size were correct. I know that my country has an obesity
problem, but let's put that thought on the back burner. If I pay about three
dollars for a drink, it had better be about a half a pint's worth. This cup's
volume is less than the American small. What the hell France?! I give you three
bucks you give me a happy meal size. Well, as many classic characters have said
throughout cartoon history, "get bent." Moving on from the overpriced
drink issue. Ahem, the rest of my night was fun. I had a massive dinner of
pasta, probably around three portions worth. I know, I'm reflecting my
country's weight issues. To be fair I hadn't eaten anything else all day except
for an apple sauce, breakfast on-the-go, and the medium coke, such a rip-off. I
am allowed to gorge on spaghetti this one time. After my feast of noodles I
joined a German-esk party hosted by my friend Natalie. She made all of us this
spiced hot wine which tasted of Christmas and grapes. Delicious, simply
ravishing. Pretty damn good. The party was nice and small, around ten people
total, which made socializing far easier. It was a great ending to a somewhat
flipped day.
December 11th
No more Littérature Comparée! Although it sucked last week,
it feels awesome now. So glad that final is over, thank you literature classes
you really came through for me. Oh yeah, the final exam system here is
completely screwy. To give you an idea audience, most professors don't know
when their final is let alone drafted a rough sketch of the test. It is fun
experiencing these little surprises. Apparently for some literature classes,
such as my two, they take their final exam before winter break during the class
time since they actually have time to take it. Three hours should easily
suffice for in-class essays. The rest of the departments wait until after
winter break for their final exams, which by the way span about two-three
weeks. Yeah kiddies, instead of one week of hell they have drawn it out here. I
will take my 7:30 am finals over three weeks after break if it means one week
before I go home for the holidays. Sadly France is never going to adopt the
idea of final exams before Christmas break, not fully. This is, according to my
awesome theory, due to the month of August. For France August is vacation
month. Their entire economy revolves around this concept, literally towns shut
down for that month since everyone is off somewhere. Their school semesters
don't start until the middle of September in order to correspond with this
vacation time. Thus in order to make the fall semester longer they hold exams
after winter vacation, otherwise the semester would be even more crammed. Pity,
but oh well. I only have to deal with this "after break" system one
more time in life. That's right DGS*, I'm glaring at you. What else did I do
today? Well I saw my adorable children of course. They were, as always,
adorable. Actually Anne and I reviewed "the wish" in English. Oh
goody, this sucks for French students. You see in French the wish or desire is
often expressed using their Subjunctive tense. Guess what is no longer used in
English? Rather we use a complex, two part, past form to express wishes. For example, first in French, je souhaite
que tu ne sois pas un crétin. Translation, I wish you weren't a dumbass.
Crude, crude Marebear. This non parallel drives French students, like Anne,
crazy from frustration. Sorry buds, but we English speakers told subjunctive to
kick it a long time ago. If it makes France feel any better, French subjunctive is
bitch for us. I then returned to my dorm for some fish, spinach, and rice
accompanied with Dead like Me. Maybe not the best show for digesting food, but
it's better than a Jackass eating contest or almost any stunt performed by
Stevo. Oh Johnny Knoxville, you rock my world.
*DGS was the high school that I attended in my former youth.
December 10th
Last civilization class. Man this sucks, or as Martel would
say, "it sooks." Damnit why are all of my favorite classes finishing
before my un-fun classes? Karma, you really don't like me sometimes. And here I
thought that we were finally becoming friends. Although I'm sad, no crap, that
civilization is now done it's not that depressing. Why? It turns out that I
will have to take it along with language again second semester. No I didn't
fail the classes, rather they are the only French as a foreign language courses
offered by the university and I am supposed to take such courses each semester
while I'm here. What this means is that I will have an easy ride in
civilization and bitch of time in language. Again, you ask why audience? Well
civilization is taught by Martel and language by Ardouin. Sigh, another
semester with Ardouin, something I wasn't planning at all. I guess that worse
things have happened in life, again no crap. It was a very mellow Monday
otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary. Then again, what is with me and the
word "again" in this post, I'm not craving excitement. That usually
bites me, and it's always hard. Adieu audience!
December 9th
Today's blog will consist of eight sentences that will begin
after the magic words "clam chowder" are shouted by someone. Why?
Cause my fingers are dead from writing/formatting/uploading crap tons of blog
posts! Tis all.
Nowells shouted, "Clam chowder!" before performing
40 oz to Freedom (This didn't actually happen).
I need new headphones for the plane ride home. Guess I'll buy
some now, no time like the present? Hmmm where are the headphones...oh that
looks about right. Let's go white this time, don't want to mix up the old with
the new. DVDs, second floor I suppose...and bingo! PAL version, meh Rikki reads
them fine. Horrible Bosses, seeing as I saw this film five times in the theater
when it came out I assume that it is one of my favorites. I'll take it.
December 8th
Today was the day of the Paris Christmas Markets! I'll say
this now, it was freakin' awesome!!!! Exclamation points to the max!!!!!!!!!!!
Kate, Paula, and I grabbed the 9:11 am train, met our friend Jonathan at St.
Lazare, and headed off to the La Défense Christmas market. I like that part of
Paris, a lot actually. I could live there because it resembles a city. There
are skyscrapers made of glass and steel. Not as beautiful as the Chicago
skyline, obviously, but it was a refreshing view. The Christmas market also reminded
me of Chicago because it looked like German fest. The only thing missing was a
Vienna Beef hotdog stand. Sigh, home I will see you soon enough. Right now,
it's shopping in Paris!!! The markets did not seem to end. They had such a
variety of merchandise there literally everything from candles and ornaments to
fast paced pitches for cooking utensils.
I nabbed some gifts for friends and family, but wasn't able to satisfy my
quota. Luckily, I am again saying something in advance, our train tickets were
not marked by the conductors. This allows us to use them again. We are going to
use them again this upcoming Saturday to visit more markets. Today we only, and
I say only loosely, explored two markets. They were just absolutely massive.
The only flaw to the day was the fact that no one knows how to walk in a crowd.
People, on crowded sidewalks it is necessary to form rivers; a stream
East/North and a stream West/South. That ensures that traffic moves. Do not
scuffle about at random paces. It makes Mary frustrated. That is always bad.
Besides the ignorant crowds of people who clearly are not from cities screwing
up the sidewalk paces, the day went smoothly. There was a wonderful highlight
as well. Paula and I rode a huge Ferris wheel at the end of Champs-Elysée together.
Paula had never been on a Ferris wheel before, what a first time. We were able
to see so much of Paris during a sunset no less. It was breathtaking, literally
breathtaking. I am just, I'm not sure, blissful? Yeah, blissful that we were
able to do that together. Paris you aren't Chicago, but you're definitely a
beautiful city.
P.S. All caught up on blogs suckers!!! Love, MareBear
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