It's midterms week(s) here so I am posting an e-mail I just received from the American Embassy in Paris before dashing off for more Mitterand vs de Gaulle and 20th century French Foreign Policy.

The e-mail was just a word of caution and I can honestly say that I haven't noticed one change in American perception in the last few days...but its just nice to know we have people looking out for us!

"US Embassy-Paris Warden Message
November 27, 2007
On Sunday, November 25, 2007 riots broke out in the Paris suburbs of Villiers-le-Bel and Arnouville after two teenagers were killed when their motorbike collided with a police car. Youths in the area began stoning police and firemen, injuring 21 police officers and setting fire to four buildings and 28 cars. The investigation into the crash that sparked the riots is ongoing. Similar riots continued Monday night November 26 with youths throwing Molotov cocktails at public security officers and setting fire to cars, businesses and a library. The press has reported that an American business was one of the four buildings set ablaze, but there is no indication that American businesses or citizens are in any way being singled out or specifically targeted. Tensions between police and youths in some Parisian suburbs have been notable in recent years. The U.S. Embassy reminds American citizens to pay close attention to local news reports and police instructions, and to remain clear of demonstrations or large gatherings of people. While most of the unrest in years past transpired during the evening hours, the Embassy encourages Americans to remain vigilant at all hours if traveling near Villiers-le-Bel and surrounding districts. Even demonstrations intended to be peaceful can turn confrontational and possibly escalate into violence. American citizens are therefore urged to avoid the areas of demonstrations if possible, and to exercise caution if within the vicinity of any demonstrations. "

In just under 20 hours, Middle America will wake up to the Macy’s Day Parade, turkey and football. In just under 20 hours, I will be sitting in my “EU as an International Actor” tutorial going over the guidelines for our six-page research paper due in 2 weeks. Tomorrow night I will have to forego the tryptophan-induced coma and study for a presentation the next day on Marie Antoinette.

Actually, Thanksgiving came much more quickly then I expected and besides the awesome display in the clothing shop next to my school (portraying two mannequins sitting down to enjoy a gold, sparkling, rayon/cotton/other synthetic fabric-turkey), there haven’t been many reminders to make me think of the holiday I will be missing. In truth, I LOVE Thanksgiving though maybe not as much as Christmas and New Year’s (the latter which I regard as the most perfect day of the year), and will definitely be thinking of my family and cousins celebrating in CO tomorrow. No doubt they will be enjoying a turkey- compliment of my dad’s favorite obsession: his Weber Smoker-- which he bought the weekend I went to college 2 years ago—.I’m pretty sure it was meant to fill the huge vacancy I left behind! :) When we moved to CO 7 years ago, I had to learn to accept a Thanksgiving without the grandparents and aunts and uncles (who I will be thinking about on Saturday!) I had grown up with. We made up our own tradition with Ham (not Turkey), Breckenridge, and our second family: The Bennett’s. This Thanksgiving is going to come and go without any of that but it will all be back in 12 months—so I think I’ll be ok this year in Paris. So today I am sending love back home!---

The strikes have continued this week hitting a climax yesterday with all fonctionnaires (civil servants) going on strike too. They called it “Black Tuesday”. I managed to make it home on Saturday morning (after a VERY squished metro ride) only to return to the city 4 hours later to meet my friend Caitlin from high school (who was visiting Paris for the day) and learn that my line (9) had closed for the night. I spent the night at Lyndsey’s to finally make it home on Sunday night to sleep in my bed for the first time in 6 days. There was talk that the strike would continue this week but after a week of living out of a bag I had convinced myself it wouldn’t happen and was caught off guard Monday night with the need to call L to ask if I could sleep in her bed, use her shower, and live in her apartment YET again the next night. I’ve told her to let me know when she is sick of me and wants her life back—but she’s been more then welcoming…I’ve been making dinner and washing dishes to try to be helpful…though now on my 7th night here out of 9 days, I owe her BIG. On Tuesday morning, metros were basically at a standstill, so Carly and I made the two hour trek from Sèvres to school (lugging a book bag and duffel of clothes)—it is not a journey I want to repeat again. Tonight (Wednesday) I am at L’s for what I think is think is the last night (the metros are starting to run again in better intervals). A week of sleepovers has been great girly fun though (forcing me to do my work during the day) and has included cooking experiments, Gilmore Girls, and even a night at the ‘Grand Prix Figure Skating Championships’! Tonight we’re paying tribute to home with a few reruns of “Friends’ Thanksgivings.” I’ve started to get used to the idea of living IN Paris—maybe I am going to miss these strikes? But only a bit.

On Sunday, I experienced human nature in its truest form on my packed metro ride home. An African man who had been standing next to me, sat in one of the 4 permanent seats when another person got up to leave. Upon sitting down, the woman next to him (about 35-yrs old) made a snide racist comment which I didn’t hear. The whole crowd within hearing distance (and because it was squished there were about 20 at least) immediately started to jeer at the woman. A “Nelson Mandela”esque man spoke up and started talking to her very calmly (it was all in French so I didn’t catch it all) saying “You can’t think like that, you can’t be like that.” He then started telling her that “it wasn’t the fault of anyone, not of the government, not of the man, it was just because of the strike”. From what I interpreted, she must have said something blaming the man for the current situation. The man left got up immediately after she said had insulted him and so she put her feet up on the empty seat, put an unlit cigar in her mouth, and started to cry, and cry and cry. 30-seconds later, a family got on and 2 little kids started telling jokes to their parents…everyone around me had smiles on their faces… It was amazing to see the extremes in that kind of environment.

I finally climbed the Eiffel tower on Saturday night with Caitlin and L. I was pretty cool to finally see the full layout of the city and realize how huge it really is. I only climbed to the 2 floor though, you have to take an elevator to the top—I’m waiting to do that with my mom: who is coming in just under a month!!

With the holidays in full swing, the swarms of tourists are here. I missed the summer season arriving on September 1st but now I understand why Parisians say the fall is the best time to visit—when it is not too hot and there aren’t lines everywhere. Even the grocery stores have been affected. Today I saw an American tour group on Le Rue de l’Opera and had to take a double take—I understand now why there is an American stereotype of being big. After 3 months surrounded by skinny, short people—a group of largely overweight and tall Americans came as a shock. I couldn’t stop staring. :)

Well, don’t let this stop you from enjoying our yummy holiday—Happy Thanksgiving!!

PS. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my Dad! Only 2 more years until the big 5-0!

Winter has officially hit. Today’s high is about 28 degrees Fahrenheit. Luckily, it has been dry, so no ice or slush or snow, though I think I would be ok with a bit of the latter. Snow and I go way back and sometimes you just need a bit of a winter wonderland to make you reassess your surroundings.
In Paris, the cold rarely brings snow—but often brings STRIKES. Yes. Yet again Paris is at a standstill (well, at least the metros are…people tend to go on with their business without much notice or change of pace). I have been staying at Lyndsey’s since Tuesday (it’s Thursday now) and they predict the strikes will continue through the weekend—I think it may be time for me to start paying rent. I am crossing my fingers that the lines will be at least partially running by Saturday so that I can drag my heavy suitcase back to Sévres and get the rest of the books that I left at home to work on my 3 papers. (The work is never-ending!!) After last week though: 1 paper and 1 presentation down!! If I can stay focused for 4 more weeks I can enjoy a work-free Christmas break and return in January to write 1 more paper and study for finals in February—at the rate of speed that the last month went by, I will be home free before I know it! AND today marks exactly 1 month before my mom arrives for a holiday extravaganza!

We did get some rain on Sunday and for once I truly appreciated its timing even though it ended with me returning home to hang my shirt up to dry. With the imminent strike, I knew I only had one chance to do laundry and lugged my bags the 15 minutes to the nearest laverie. Parisian men are persistent—they have to be…the girls here are too beautiful and the men are too short... J I know this, I knew this, and I have a million stories to be assured of it…but the most persistent of them all earns the “blog-worthy” status. The laundramat was pretty busy for a Sunday and I was lucky to get there in time to claim the last 2 washing machines. There was a 35ish-looking man using the dryers directly across from my machine and in the normal French courtesy, he said hello when I arrived. Upon switching my wet clothes to the dryer, he politely encouraged me to use the dryer he had just finished with at it was “le plus chaud” (warmest) and even gave me an empty basket to transfer my clothes in. Though, in the US, I would have thought nothing of his extra efforts except for courtesy (especially as he had a good 15 years on me), I have been trained to remain suspicious here no matter what. When he packed up his bags and left with a quick “bonne journée” I was pleasantly surprised. That is—until I emerged from the laundramat into the rain 1 minute later to see him pause 50 feet away, turn around, and follow me in the opposite direction down the main street. As it was raining, I had started walking at a pretty brisk pace from the beginning---of course, 20 seconds later I hear a “Miss” from behind me. Thinking that I may have forgotten something, I paused just long enough for him to catch up and upon verifying that his intentions were not to return something that I had dropped (his first question was “where are you from?”) I continued my quick pace down the street. He, however, continued…staying right at my pace though about 10 feet behind…and asked one question after another to which my repeated short response was “No” (Do you live here? Do you speak French? Are you studying in Paris?...) This continued for about 3 minutes through the rain until…finally out of breath he commented that I walk very fast. This was my chance to escape, “Yes, I am late, I have to go, goodbye.” I picked up my pace even more…but wasn’t far enough to hear his last plea: “I phone you?” It turned out that the last 5 minutes of non-response, no eye contact and sprinting through the rain had done nothing more then encourage him that I was indeed interested in him.

November 11th is a national holiday in Paris as well and is celebrated every year with a laying of a wreath by the President at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the Arc de Triomph (yes I finally went there!). Carly is in a “Memoirs of French Monuments and Celebrations” course and her class received an invitation from Sarkozy to attend the festivities and sit front and center (needless to say, I was a bit jealous). I tagged along and made plans to meet L and Elise while C went through the rows of security to the front. We found a good place right along the Champs d’Elysees right behind two secret service officers on motorcycles (very James Bond…). Representatives of the different branches of the military (some on horseback), bands, and a motorcade of ambassadors from around the world all filed past toward the arc until just 5 minutes to 11am when Monsieur President himself drove past, window down, arm waving. The whole even lasted about a half an hour with poems, speeches, the laying of wreaths and an inspection of the armed forces. President Sarkozy walked to a place about 20 feet from us to greet a few veterans, then got back in his motorcade and drove off. I was pretty surprised at how short he really is in person but was more surprised at the security. My bag was checked and I was wanded over before entering the street lining the route but C (who was within 5 feet of Sarkozy) never was checked once. Though I agree that Sarkozy does not have a third of the amount of enemies as Bush, I was pretty shocked that nothing more was done—I guess a bunch of white college students from a political science university with invitations aren’t much of a threat.

Despite the freezing temperatures, Paris has been absolutely GORGEOUS the last week. Bright blue skies (Since I haven’t left the city, I can’t see the smog!) and people all bundled up. Last night L and I walked home from our study session at Starbucks (which turned into a cultural experience of its own as the union workers staged their protest parade right along the Rue de l’Opera where I was already stationed cozy in my chair with my hot cup of Christmas Blend) taking a route that passed the Gallery Lafayette. Just like that---I fell in love with Paris all over again. They put up temporary scaffolding surrounding the entire building and covered it with lights that change to look like stain-glass windows. Each of the window displays was above and beyond anything that I have ever seen and included everything from mannequins with hair forming never-ending strings of garland to flying penguins and talking moose. It was truly magical—all it needed was a bit of snow. Now in the spirit, L and I rushed home (well—to her home) to turn on “The Rat Pack’s Christmas Hits” and decided a caroling expedition may be necessary in a few weeks—unknowingly to L, I have no intention to follow through on that proposal…ha!

Spectacle in Sevres?!

It turns out Sevres DOES have more then a few inhabitants and right now they are all lined up outside my backyard watching the 20+ fire trucks lining my street. Coming home from class today, I was greeted with a road full of lights and men in black and yellow. My house backs to the street and is perched on a hill above it, so I decided I would go home to see what was happening instead of join the dozens of Sevrians craning their necks. Sure enough, when I opened my back window I saw the line of black smoke coming out of the apartment complex directly across the street. I decided to follow suit and watch the event unfold from my window. I even broke out some popcorn. Nobody was wheeled away in a stretcher but they did put the ladders up to the windows a few times. About an hour later, the trucks are still there but the smoke is just barely visible.

Climbing the ladder!

They went on like this for 3 blocks!

This week seems to be full of tragedy. On Sunday night, I returned home from a run along the Seine with my friend Evan (Canadian) pretty shaken up. Often (and by 'often' I mean once every 2-3 weeks) I have arrived at the metro station to find a crowd of people waiting on the platform for a delayed train. The announcement on the loud speaker is usually something to the tune of "Il y a une grave accident avec une voyageur..."- "There is a serious accident with a voyager..." I had always assumed that it meant that someone was sick or fainted until Lyndsey told me that it was widely understood to mean that some one had committed suicide. After that, everytime it happened I would get chills. You could see it in the faces of the others on the platform too...to be late for work because someone decided to jump in front of a train. On Sunday night--I was on that train. We had just taken off to the next stop when there was a thump and a yell from the driver--as I was in the front car...we could hear it pretty well and everyone froze. They only stopped the car for about 20 seconds and then continued to the next station. For a few minutes I was unsure if anything had actually happened. Sure enough, when we got to the next stop, the driver jumped out (with the whitest face I have ever seen), used the emergency phone, and told everyone to unload onto the platform. Another man came running, said some things really fast to the driver and jumped in to take the empty train away. The driver grabbed all of his stuff and booked it out of there, he was really shaken up. So there I was...standing on a platform with 70 other people just waiting--thinking-- The way that they reacted was like clockwork. It was so bizarre to me to get on to another train 15 minutes later and be on my way home...

On a lighter note-- It turns out that Sarkozy (the French President) and Bush are now BFF's. I'm not sure what to think about this but it makes an entertaining read. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/06/AR2007110602756.html?hpid=artslot

Thanks to all for the words of encouragement this week…it was definitely appreciated.

My train arrived back in Paris just a few hours ago. The last week was more then a blur but the last 2 days couldn’t have been more perfect. On Thursday morning, Steph and I boarded our train to Champagne for a few days of serious R & R. After spending the first day trekking around the town of Epernay, touring the Moet & Chandon Champagne house and hunting down the only open grocery store (it was All Saint’s Day—a state recognized holiday in France), we checked into our hotel room at 4pm only to fall immediately asleep and crawl out of bed 15 hours later. Obviously it was more then needed.

On Friday, we had our chance to really experience the region and went on a tour of a local grower’s vineyards and production facilities. It was amazing to see the amount of work put toward production and to understand what it truly means to be an artisan completely devoted to your life’s work. Nathalie and Max own 6 hectares of vineyards in Champagne and work year round along with Max’s parents to produce their own family name Champagne. They inherited the land from family and intend to keep it forever—a smart decision as each hectare of Champagne’s limited 35,000 hectares of vineyards is worth upwards of a million Euro. They work year round pruning, maintaining, picking, juicing, fermenting, bottling, labeling, and selling their product and I think they can’t be making much more then an average farmer. The amount of physical labor is unbelievable but you can tell that they truly love their business. Nathalie picked up 5 of us from the tourist office in Epernay and drove us in her 9 person van through the countryside to their home/ B&B to pick up 2 Italian guests (Georgio and Georgia—a very cute couple of newlyweds) before taking us up to her vineyards in the rolling hills above their village. Even though harvest was about a month ago and the leaves have become brown and are falling from the vines, the hills were still gorgeous. Nathalie did not skip a beat and if you ever have any interest I will be happy to share my new expertise in Champagne making with you! (Even when I am on vacation I can’t get away from learning!!) After touring their fermentation/bottling area and caves, we got to taste a few of their wines and left with a bottle of Rosé for Steph’s birthday later this month. This was easily my favorite part of the trip---well, maybe second to the sleep and REAL shower.

Isn't it PRETTY?!

This weekend couldn’t have come at a better time. This last week left me needing to truly reassess what I am doing here and set a few priorities. Sciences Po’s workload has proved to be much more then I originally gauged and I have struggled to accept that much of the remainder of this semester is going to have to be spent with my head in books. I came to Paris as a student—and in particular, to Sciences Po as a student with an intention to work hard in my courses. I also came to Paris as a 20-year old girl with an endless curiosity and a need for adventure. The real trouble comes in balancing the two of these things. This past week it just became too much and after a few discussions with my parents and advisors I decided to try to drop a course. Unfortunately, the “system” isn’t as flexible as I had hoped and it looks like I am stuck unless I want to risk a severe drop in my GPA by accepting an “F”. Solution: Next semester I am only taking 4 classes (as opposed to the 7 now) and am saving my travels and explorations for a time when I can truly enjoy them. For now, I am going to do my best to study IN Paris…in cafés and museums (I have started to become a regular at the Louvre—using my 15Euro/year Carte de Jeunes to gain entry and organize myself in a corner next to a 1500-yr old statue with my book).

Carly, Steph and I have finally come to accept the fact that the American café culture does not exist in Paris. Indeed, Paris’s café culture is much more developed then that of the US—with waiters who know much of their clientele by name—but it is not the student friendly culture that we are in constant need of. When I walk through the streets now, I am constantly staring into the windows of the nearest cafés to see if there is anyone reading or writing—so far no luck. Our sad alternative (as recommended by Steph’s language teacher) is that old time love-hate relation: Starbucks. I’ve been there 3 times in the last week, each time spending at least 4 hours successfully uninterrupted along side C and S.

I made it a necessity to spend some time this break satisfying my long-deprived need for exploration. Last week Monday I spent 4 hours at the Museo d’Orangerie in the Jardin de Tuileries. As my well-researched father told me after learning of my plan: the building was built for Monet for the purpose of displaying his GIGANTIC “Water Lilies” in the most advantageous light. They decided to add another floor in 1999 to display a collection of Picasso and of Cezanne but spent 5 years from ’99 to ’06 taking it down because it blocked the skylights intended for the Water Lilies. They moved the other artists to the basement but were delayed when construction uncovered on the earliest walls surrounding Paris. Stories like this are the things that remind me where I am—and make me realize what history really means. The Orangerie had been an adventure intended for the first day of my arrival in Paris in September—it was supposed to fit somewhere in the 4 hours between getting off the train and check in to the Cite U—so finally getting here two months later, it was highly anticipated. Even with this long wait, I still stood in awe. Monet’s “Water Lilies” have to be experienced in the oval rooms that he intended. I had to do a few double takes in the basement as I walked from Matisse to Cezanne to Picasso…recognizing pieces that I had seen in textbooks. I’ve never studied art besides the basics that were included in history books in high school but can absolutely appreciate why these men were so highly regarded.

It took C and I until Wednesday morning---October 31st, and the LAST day that they were open before winter—for us to make our way to the Versailles gardens. We spent about four hours there and couldn’t have seen more then 15% of them. They are absolutely incredible. C is in my French Revolution and Napoleon Class and we decided to team up for our exposé in 2 weeks on Marie Antoinette. As we are both in the middle of biographies about her, we made it our objective to visit her Domain and the Petite Trianon. Honestly, if you ever make it to Versailles—make this a mandatory part of your visit. After Louis XVI gave M.A. the Petit Trianon (a small-though still very decadent building on the grounds of Versailles) for her own amusement, she decided to develop a model farm and village on the surrounding property complete with a windmill, pumpkin patches (which made me pretty excited as it was the closest I got to Halloween!), vineyards, little cottages, a milking room made of marble and goat shaped faucets on the sinks, fields for her sheep and cows, and a huge pond full of swans. I seriously felt like I was back at Euro Disney. By the time we left, the huge fountain just behind main house had been completely drained for the season…I’ll have to come back in the spring to see the other 85%.

My camera died after this shot:

Steph had the most exciting week of all of us so far and now has a great story to tell when she returns. She went to talk at a museum in the Jardin de Tuileries (just next to the Orangerie) last week. The presentation got out at 9pm—when the Jardin de Tuileries is closed for the night and decided to exit through the gate near the metro and not the open gate near the museum (you can see where this is going). When she reached the gate, it was locked and after wandering around the garden for a few minutes realized that she had been locked inside the Jardin de Tuileries IN THE DARK! At this point I would have panicked, but Steph -being the cool-minded girl that she is- merely wandered over to the side closest to the Louvre where the fence was the lowest. She flung her bag over the top and climbed up—and launched herself over. Of course, the fence was lined with spikes all around and in concentrating on the climb, Steph forgot about the loooong wool coat she was wearing. In short: she made it to the other side only to be hung by 2 pikes going through the bottom of her new wool coat. A man walking by the Louvre heard her fall and had to come over to actually lift her off of the fence. Remaining the high-spirited girl that I know--she said she laughed the whole time and has decided to proudly continue to sport her now punctured coat if only to glorify in her defeat. I only wish I had been there with my camera.

The now infamous coat:

Sorry for the novel….again... if you made it this far, I am highly impressed!

Oh, and one last thing: I got my ImagineR! Only 9 weeks after arrival—but now at least I now to NEVER lose it!