Yeah.. So I just realized the reason why my mailbox wasn't opening: I was trying to open the wrong mailbox.
In my defense, my actual mailbox is located at a different number other than 2, even though I live on the deuxième étage--the "second floor," translated literally. Actually, I live on the third floor. French levels begin at 0 rather than 1. I'm not sure whether the French or Americans are right; this whole "start counting at 0" thing is also (kind of) debated in math.
My choice of music? It was raining today, and raining in the way that I could actually hear the patter on the window. Hasn't happened so far, even though it's been raining off and on. Actually, I should be listening to this, and I sincerely hope some of my sixth grade classmates are reading this so they will roll on the floor laughing at my terrible inside joke.
Concerning life in Paris, it hasn't been quite exciting today, except for the "DUH" moment with the mailbox. I'm sorry. I should be living a more exciting life, so you guys can be vicariously happy (much like how Mother "let me" take ballet lessons).
Today I've been more concerned with my academic career, trying to sort out the mess that is graduating with a completely different major and minor. It's terribly dull, though, so I won't put any of you through that.
Another thing I love about Paris: I called an allergist to schedule an appointment, and he asks me, "How about noon?" And as I'm hemming and hawing, he backtracks and says, "Or is that too early?" So now it's at two o'clock (aka 14:00). So awesome for a college student.
One of my roommates arrives tomorrow, and then I have only a weekend before classes commence. Gasp! As I've already nagged some others, I am greedy for comments on this blog--I talk to myself too often in real life; I don't need to do it on a written blog as well. So, (potentially imaginary) readers, what would any of you recommend I do? Some requests I've taken into account are eat a crêpe, visit Monet's Gardens in Giverny, stroll down the Champs-Élysées, revel in the memorial at Normandy, and take an actual panorama at Versailles.
On a side note, I have to say I'm very impressed with Paris's response to the terrorist attack. There are billboards stating Je suis Charlie ("I am Charlie," though I'm sure you guys figured it out because you are brilliant), and everyone seems well-informed and strongly opinionated. Wish we could bring some of that fire back to DC. Even Ferguson protests on GW's campus seemed...lackluster. Perhaps not for lack of feeling and passion, but maybe I'm being blinded by the supposed Golden Age of Protesting, including bra-burning, peace marches through the monuments, etc. Seems like Paris is embracing it a bit more. (Oh, man, I am so going to get attacked over this observation.)
Also, Mom, one of the advisors informed us that Parisians were much more hostile to Americans when George W. Bush was president. So I suppose this means I'm less of a target while Obama is in office? I'm reminded of David Sedaris's recent collection of essays, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls: one of the essays described how intent Europeans were on our 2008 election, and how random EU citizens would just lecture him about politics because he was an American. (Though more like an ex-pat, if I really think about it. For someone who writes a lot about Raleigh, North Carolina, I don't think he's lived in the States for at least a decade.)
Well, I'm excited to make personal contact with another student tomorrow, as well as for a Happy Hour that I can legally be encouraged to attend in my Student Handbook. Wh-hooo.
Now, here are some rainy-day photos for the visual learners out there:
Herb the Dinosaur now comes equipped with a key that looks like it should be on a designer necklace. Hey, it has the price tag to go with it.
It's so weird how even 4,000 miles--excuse me, 6437.38 kilometers--away, I can still see identical posters in the Metro stations. Crazy. I've already seen Michael C. Hall's and Reese Witherspoon's faces more here than I ever did in the Foggy Bottom metro stop.
Apparently Google was not satisfied with my still photographs, and so it made this fancy flashing one. Technology is weird, man.
Saw a Frozen poster too! But Remy is perfect.
This is weird, right? It makes me kind of uncomfortable, and I could feel the judgment as I stood and took this picture. ("No, random French people, I'm not the weirdo... I just really have to show my friends this because they're the twisted ones. Yeah, I know I'm not making a good case for myself, either.")
Because I knew (and still know) nothing about Eminem, this graffiti brought to mind 21 Jump Street. Only Googling the phrase led me to realize that this is apparently something I should know as a "Millennial" (ugh) child. So yeah. Eminem in France. I mean, all the music I hear is American. And menus at restaurants switch back and forth between English, which I should be grateful for, but it really just makes me think that between the dark lights and the crazy artwork, I must be hallucinating. Just a bonus thought: there was a song playing at Miss Ko, and though I'd heard it on the repeat-until-my-ears-bleed playlist at Lake Compounce, I thought it was in French. Nope. Turns out the singer mumbles so much that English wasn't even discernable. Mr. Blanchette would despair.
1 comment:
I will send you some Eminem!! He is actually pretty good with words! (Minus the swears and wife beating). Colin is talking to lot as I read this to him and says, go take a picture on the lock bridge! Unless they really did take it down!!
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