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!