Méli-Mélo

Well, I realize that I did promise you more “lessons” that I’ve learned about living in Paris…but I felt like a change of pace was in order…so, we’ll just have to put those future lessons on hold for the time being. If you could somehow manage to contain your vast disappointment, I would greatly appreciate it. (Ha.)

Anyway, moving on… I know I’ve mentioned in the past that living in Paris for several months is incredibly different from simply visiting for a week or two. You become accustomed to all of the sights and sounds of the city, and the numerous tourist attractions just seem like everyday fare to you. So, essentially, with this entry, I wanted to share an account of one of my daily experiences in the city. It might not be the most thrilling thing you’ve ever read, but I figured it would be good for me to write it out, even if it’s not QUITE as good for you to read it. Hope that’s okay!

My mornings usually begin at about 5:45 a.m. I really don’t need to wake up this early, but I’ve always been one to enjoy my quiet time in the mornings…and I hate rushing around to get ready for the day. So, come 5:45 (just as the noise of the previous night’s parties is starting to dissipate), I get out of bed and head to the shower room. As a quick side note, I have never—in all of my time in Paris—encountered another living soul in the shower room…or the W.C. (i.e. bathroom). How is this even possible? I’ve concluded that there must be some secret, incredibly luxurious shower/bathroom area that, apparently, is a secret only to me… Anyway, let’s fast forward a bit, shall we? Around 7:45, I need to leave for class, which begins at 8:30. Now, on a good day, it only takes about 15 minutes to get to class via the RER; however, on a BAD day, the RER trip can take upwards of 40 minutes…so, I don’t like to take any chances. (And, on a NIGHTMARISH day, there is a little sign posted on the door to the RER station that says “FERMÉ JUSQU’À MIDI” [CLOSED UNTIL NOON]. Gotta love that French public transportation!)

Anyway, the reward of leaving for class so early, I’ve discovered, comes in the form of some quality time spent with Notre Dame. You see, as I may have mentioned in the past, my classroom is less than a block away from the cathedral itself…and, when I climb the stairs out of the metro station in the morning, I climb right into Notre Dame’s central courtyard. And, fortunately, unlike in the afternoon, Notre Dame is incredibly peaceful in the morning, and there are very few people around at all. This morning, in particular, the sun was still partially obscured by some hazy, pre-dawn clouds, and the entire cathedral was bathed in a surreal, almost yellowy, glow. I sat on a bench in the gardens by the Seine, right beneath the vaulting towers of Notre Dame, and watched the sun rise. So…yeah. My walk to class from the RER station isn’t too bad at all. :)

My class—mon cours pratique, niveau supérieur—is two hours long…but, fortunately, my professor, Monsieur Carlier, keeps the time moving pretty quickly by constantly joking with us in French—even if we don’t always understand his sense of humor. Admittedly, two hours is a BIT long—for me, at least—to be absorbing endless amounts of obscure French grammar rules…but, each day, at the end of the class, I always think, “Oh… That wasn’t so bad!”

Today was my first day without a phonetics course (which concluded last Friday and usually took place from 11 – 12 after my “cours pratique”), so I had the whole morning free. First stop? A local café-tabac that serves café crème “à emporter” (to-go), bien sûr. As I was paying at the cash register, I noticed an American couple standing at the bar, literally SCREAMING at the waitress, “CRESCENTS! DO YOU HAVE ANY CRESCENTS?!?!” I’m nearly 100% sure that the waitress knew full well that they wanted “croissants,” but I think she was having fun pretending to be oblivious. Eventually, they were rewarded with their pastries—and I with my coffee—so, I made a quick exit.

Wandering down the side streets near Notre Dame is always a unique experience. First, I pass the same little yellow café on the corner, where the same mustachioed waiter emerges each and every day and beckons me to sit down for “petit-déjeuner.” Non, merci, is my daily response, although the steaming cups of coffee—surrounded by croissants, baguettes, pain au chocolat, and various types of jam—DO look rather appealing. Further down the street is the Greek area of town, where numerous store owners are preparing ENORMOUS “hanging towers of meat” (the best phrase I can think of to describe these things) for their little gyro shops. It’s still early enough at this point that the street is pleasantly quiet, although I know that, in a mere hour or so, it will be bustling with tourists.

About 10 minutes later, I arrive at le Jardin du Luxembourg, which is hardly just a “garden”…but more of an immense park with palm trees, fountains, tennis courts, and several ponds. It’s incredibly beautiful. Once again, thanks to the time of day, it’s not crowded at all, and I’m able to sit and just enjoy the view while writing for a bit in my journal.

Lunch typically isn’t a grand affair for me during the week (and usually consists of scrounging up a few pieces of bread with peanut butter in my dorm room), but, today, I thought I would treat myself to something much more interesting: some ice cream at Amorino’s, the authentic Italian gelato shop near Notre Dame. When I arrived, the store hadn’t opened its doors yet, and a blonde American woman was banging on the glass with her fist. She looked back at me incredulously and hissed, “I don’t understand why they aren’t open!” When I proposed the fact that the French concept of time is just different, she dismissed me with a “Well, I just don’t get it” and continued her assault on the doors. About 15 minutes later, I left the establishment with a bowl of pistachio (with whole pistachios mixed in), crema al crocquante (described as “Italian pastry” flavor), and almond (with little almond biscuits mixed in) gelato. It was heavenly.

The rest of my afternoon was spent strolling along the Seine, wandering past countless artists who had set up booths with their paintings for sale. It’s all unbelievably charming, as long as you avoid the horribly touristy areas of town. As I’m sure you’ve gathered up to this point, Paris is a pretty amazing city. Je l’aime. :)

I suppose I could continue recounting my daily experiences, but I don’t want to drone on for TOO much longer. Besides, the rest of my afternoon wasn’t overly eventful, anyway (aside from a 15-minute wait on the RER, a brief stop at my local grocery store, and a frightening meal at the increasingly hellish student cafeteria—Bullier).

So, in conclusion, I’ve decided that my favorite time of day in Paris is early in the morning. And my favorite place in Paris is Notre Dame (but…only early in the morning…). I wish I could paint a more vivid picture of these things for you…because I feel like words just don’t do them justice. If you’re up for a visit, feel free to swing by Cité Universitaire, room 29. I’ll be more than happy to give you a tour! :)

Well, I’ve detained you for long enough! That’s all for now. A bientôt!