Petit Par Petit

A new French phrase that I've picked up in the past week makes the title of this entry, and the best part for you is that the English translation is wonderfully direct.  Petit par petit-- little by little.
Little by little, I'm finding my niche here, in my cozy apartment on my little street in Paris.  I'm beginning to find routine, something that I value intensely as I am a person of habit.  I like the same things, over and over again (I am the type of person that is content to eat an identical breakfast each morning... Two eggs, over easy, on multigrain toast.  Thanks.)
I've figured out that when I stop by my local boulangerie most days, I prefer to ask for une tradition rather than asking for une baguette.  Even better than that, I have learned that I can even ask for une demi-tradition!  That way, I only eat half a baguette every day rather than the entire thing.  I'm not ashamed ... I'll chalk it up to cultural immersion and return to my eggs and multigrain toast immediately upon re-entering the states.  Incidentally, bread is one of the simple joys of French existence.
It is incredible that I've been in Paris for almost two weeks now, a full twelve days!  It's true, what they say, about how time flies when you spend a semester abroad.  With almost two weeks under my belt, there remain only fourteen more.  It is depressing to talk too much about it, but I can't believe how quickly my time is slipping from me already.
Last Sunday, with my reusable shopping bag in tow, I headed to the marché at the Place de la Bastille.  As I left the gloomy Metro passageways behind me and re-surfaced at the site where, hundreds of years before, the French people had stormed the Bastille as part of their revolution, I totally geeked out.  I really love history; I considered a history major in college and in particular went through a phase of intense appreciation for French history.  After I pinched myself, remembered that this was real, that I was actually living in Paris, I headed towards the market.  (And by that I mean I typically went the complete wrong direction, and spent ten minutes attempting to find the largest outdoor market in Paris.  Some things, my dear friends, never change.)
If my experience arriving at Bastille was a history freak-out, my arrival at the market itself brought on a freak-out of another kind entirely.  FOOD FREAK-OUT.  Oh, my God.  Rotisserie chicken, the smell of which could ellicit a watering mouth from even the staunchest vegetarians.  Fresh cheese, fruit, vegetables, exotic olives and spices whose names I didn't even recognize.  I'm almost weak at the knees even now at the memory of it, the smells of a hundred different vendors selling a thousand different things and the sounds!  Ugh, the sounds!  Vendors calling out their produce, hoping to entice anyone from the sneaker-wearing guidebook-toting American tourists to the quick-paced and focused Parisian regulars.  

No, but seriously.  How good does this all look?

How can I not geek out?

I won't give in yet, I won't eat the chicken... But those
potatoes at the bottom are seducing me, petit par petit.

The market was incredible, more awesome than I know how to convey through a silly blog post.  For a wannabe foodie, like myself, it is heaven.  I was a little unsure of how much produce to get, because I wasn't sure of the measurements and how much time I'd have to cook etc., but for future reference:  ordering 1 kilo of green beans is an atrocious overestimate for one person.  I asked the vendor to put half of them back, and I still have green beans coming out of my ears, six days later.  I can't complain though.  The food is fresh, and most importantly it's cheap.  French supermarkets can be really expensive (read: I paid two Euros for a single apple the other day), so it was a pleasant change of pace to get market quality veggies at an awesome price.  The Most Valuable Player award goes to the goat cheese I picked up.  I asked for the cheapest at the fromagerie stand, but ... Ooooh, la la.  It is the most fantastic thing.  It's more accurate to say it WAS the MVP, I should say, since I polished off the last of it tonight with some delicious five Euro (from the market!) Bordeaux.

All of this for less than 25 Euros.  I will talk about Parisian markets forever.

Aside from the triumph that was the market on Sunday morning, this past week has been just a little stressful.  I started my classes on Monday, and the workload seems to be pretty intense.  For each of my three classes I have a ten minute oral presentation to make, a three page paper to write, and a final test.  Not to mention small written assignments due at each class session, mandatory trips to museums and other landmarks, and two 2.5 hour sessions a week!  It's all en francais, but to be honest the language hasn't been a problem for me.  I'm so grateful now that I worked hard at learning French, because to keep up with this heavy workload while trying to decipher half of what my teachers are saying would be almost impossible.  Even with my language comprehension, the next seven weeks are going to be challenging for sure.  I'm attempting to find balance now between spending time with friends at night and getting my work done.  A challenge in itself, but unfortunately for me this study abroad experience is not "party abroad," or whatever other people's experiences might have been.  I'm glad for it, because I'm a total nerd, but I'm anxious as well.

One of my assignments for my language class was a découvert du quartier, a discovery of a neighborhood.  A classmate and I set out to explore the St Germain des Prés area, and had quite a pleasant surprise.  We came across the most fantastic tea-room, situated neatly on the left bank.  Check out this picture, how cool is this?  Shelves upon shelves of tea, and the smell in this place was also incredible.

If I had but world (read: money) enough and time, I
would have spent hours here.

Once more, during my time exploring the St Germain neighborhood, I had to perform a quick reality check.  When I turned around and saw THIS:

Typically Parisian and beautiful.

Speaking of typically Parisian, or perhaps more accurately typically French, there was a strike on Tuesday.  If there is one thing the French universally love, it is not wine.  It is not even cheese.  It is going on strike.  As a result of the strike, which was over the national retirement age, the metro service on Tuesday was not as frequent as it usually is.  I was so glad that my iPhone chose Tuesday to turn off in the middle of the night!  It was really awesome that I therefore had no alarm on Tuesday morning, and therefore did not wake up the planned two hours earlier than usual to avoid metro troubles.  Thankfully, I woke up early enough that I made it on time to class on Tuesday morning.  I've never been more glad that the walls in this apartment are paper thin; it was my housemate's alarm clock that woke me.  The metro was so hot and crowded, like very sweaty and ticked off sardines crammed in a can.

This picture hardly captures the chaos,
but I was sweaty and eager to get out of the Metro.

After five hours of class on Tuesday, I went for a very tiring bike ride on the left bank, foolishly forgetting the strike and thinking I could easily head home on the metro.  That was, needless to say, false.  After waiting about 30 minutes for a train that was packed with disgruntled Parisians (a nightmare), I got out as close to my stop as I could.  I walked closer and closer to Place de la République, where I live, and heard a curious and unrecognizable din.  Oh!  Silly me!  Une manifestation.  Not only do French people love to strike, they love to PROTEST!  Actively!  Loudly!  In massive crowds!  And, apparently, right in my neighborhood.  After my long and stressful day, I wasn't in much of a mood to throw elbows at Parisians on strike, but alors I had no choice.  I did make it home, and I had a delicious meal (quelle surprise!) to comfort myself.

Not the most soothing of situations for the stressed American soul.

Today, after a meeting about internship placement at the BU Center this morning, two girls from my program and I headed to the Marais for falafel!  Spontaneously dubbed FALAFEL FRIDAY!, it is a habit I could certainly get used to with ease.

Yes, there is hot sauce on there.
Yes, I came dangerously close to passing out in joy.

Tonight I've passed a quiet evening in the coziness of my room, eating soup and enjoying the calm that is a weekend night spend in.  The weekend is supposed to be beautiful, and I plan on taking full advantage of the good weather while it lasts!  I look forward to a new market tomorrow morning, near the Champ du Mars, and some good times with good friends for the rest of the weekend. This week I have survived my classes successfully, braved my first experience with Parisian strikes, and eaten the most delicious and wonderful food.  I can't wait to see what I learn next week, every day in Paris teaches me something I didn't know before.  This post was long, too, but even if no one is still reading I look forward to looking back to this blog some day and letting my mouth water a little over what I experienced when I was twenty years old in Paris.  Until next time, mes chers amis. xo

P.S.!  Oh no!  In re-reading what I've written, it is long and almost entirely food-centered, and I suspect that makes for dull reading for you all.  I'll try to chill out with the food theme... but I can't help it!  My life here is food-centered!  Just be thankful you're not my parents, who receive about 4-5 pictures per day of my every meal ...

First Impressions

Salut!  Rest assured, I have arrived in Paris sans probleme and I've decided that I love Paris more than I even thought I did.

My flight over went smoothly enough, I chatted with a Canadian man who resembled a Degrassi character and I slept most of the way.  The only issue I had with regards to my arrival was carting around my massive case!  I still have calluses on my palms from heaving and pulling and coaxing that stupid huge red thing into submission.  Mais alors!  It is done now (with the help of a tramp at the RER station, admittedly...)  and here I am!

My host parents are wonderful! When I arrived on Sunday they ate their usual Sunday meal of roast chicken and potatoes, but Catherine my host mother took the time to make fish for me separately, because she knows I don't eat meat.  Last Tuesday night she made ratatouille for my housemate and me, completing the meal with a cheese course and dessert.  Pilou, the family's cat, is adorable, but very shy.  Little by little though, I am making progress.  He even let me pet his back yesterday, and I'm just about certain that I heard him purr.  I will get in his good graces, I'm determined!!

Pilou is gray, just like my cats!

The apartment is in the 11th arrondissement, which is a super location.  There is a metro stop right nearby which has FIVE train lines going through it, so it is easy to get around.  The Boston University center, where orientation took place all this week and where classes begin on Monday, is about a 25 minute commute from the house.   Kim and I traveled together this past week, but we somehow went a different way each time and have not yet figured out the fastest way to get there.  The BU Center is in the fifteenth, which is also the location of the Eiffel Tower.  It is surreal, still, to be walking to school and suddenly see the top of the tower peeking over a building or around a corner.  It is surprising and wonderful, but I almost have to pinch myself sometimes because this still doesn't feel real to me!  Too good to be true, as they say.

Orientation was a long week, but the staff are so wonderfully helpful and friendly that their efforts to make us feel comfortable and at home were truly succesful.  My favorite part of the week, it has to be said, was Wednesday afternoon.  The staff treated us to a dégustation de la gastronomie française, a little taste of French gastronomy.  We traveled among four rooms, where a staff member in each room allowed us to taste a wine, cheese, meat, and dessert from one of four regions of France.  The food was delicious (I can only assume the meat was as delicious as the cheese), and it was nice to taste decent wine that we can't quite afford!  We were encouraged to visit the cheese shop, the bakery, the butcher, etc. rather than stopping by the supermarket, and promised that in many cases it's valuable to pay a bit more and enjoy the better quality products.  We'll see if I can swing that, but at the very least I am itching to go to a market next week and buy some veggies and cheese!

The Aquitane region, whose offerings included
a delicious Bordeaux we would never be able to afford...

Sampling the cuisine of the Franche-Compte region, near the Swiss border

After the dégustation, we headed towards the Champ du Mars to see a puppet show beneath the Eiffel Tower.  It was adorable, to see how excited the French kids got over the show.  Though I did well with understanding the show itself, I was embarrassed to find I often didn't know what the kids were responding.  It's difficult, this language thing.  It's just so strange to admit that as a twenty year old college student, I'm not always able to understand what four- and five-year olds are saying here in France.  Instead of getting depressed, though, it just fills me with greater resolve to improve!  Watch this video, if you like, and see if you can tell what they're saying!


Spectacle de Guignol! from Niamh Cloughley on Vimeo.

I know it's toursity and cliche, but isn't
it just so beautiful?

The nightlife in Paris is incredible.  Generally, we like to share a few bottles of wine on the banks of the Seine or perhaps beneath the sparkling Eiffel Tower and then head to the Latin Quarter, the student section of Paris.  Fairly decent wine, suitable for students at least, is incredibly cheap but nightlife in general is expensive.  It's a lesson in itself, learning how to juggle finances appropriately.   A few friends and I sat beneath the glowing Notre Dame the other night, when suddenly we stopped our conversation and had another moment of "Is this real!?"  We already are dreading our return to the monotony of college dorms and bars, and feel quite certain we could get used to sipping wine  beneath a beautiful cathedral in Paris.  I almost burst with pride on Thursday night when not one, but TWO Parisians told me that my French was very good!  Parisians, as a rule, are not friendly... Particularly when it comes to foreigners butchering their language.  Their kind words boosted my confidence incredibly, and I really do feel quite comfortable with the language already.  I can't wait to improve, though.  It is one of my main goals for these four months, I really want to be completely at ease in French conversation... Hopefully I'll get there!

A poor étudiante's humble meal

Notre Dame at night.
Can you see why we love to bask in its glory?

It is the little things about Paris that make me the most happy: coming across an eight-person ensemble that played the most fantastic music in the Metro, treating myself to a warm crepe oozing Nutella on my way home from school, seeing a line out the door at my local bakery, and even taking bike rides now and then along the Seine.  With all the walking and bike riding I've been doing, I can hardly worry about how the rich French diet might affect me.  Plus, my student budget really only allows for some couscous and tuna for dinner, with the occasional baguette or pain au chocolat thrown in for good measure.

Riding my bike along the Right Bank, towards Place de la Concorde

A cute cafe that does a two Euro coffee and croissant deal

Lunch just around the corner from the BU Center.

In other, less happy news, I'm currently battling a really awful case of strep throat.  It began on Thursday night, a little sore throat that I was willing to brush aside as a result of my plane trip.  By Friday afternoon, however, it became clear that I was yet again coming down with a case of strep.  Strep throat is old news to me, I get it about four or five times a year so I'm pretty good at knowing when it's on its way.  Alors, I got the number of an English-speaking doctor in Paris and headed across town last night to hear his opinion.  I left the pharmacie last night with no fewer than five medications in tow, but alas this morning I actually felt worse.  I'm hoping by tonight I'll feel improved, as classes start Monday morning and I really can't imagine attending them in this state.  I've already ducked out of a class trip to Versailles today, about which I was really excited but had to choose to rest and attempt to get better rather than go and potentially get worse.  Terrible timing, I can only assume I picked it up on the plane!

I'm looking forward to classes next week, though I am a bit nervous as I've heard from all sides that the work load is heavy and the courses are difficult enough.  I have class until the 23rd of October, and then I begin a full-time internship on November 2nd.  I'm not sure yet what my internship is, I am supposed to be contacted about an interview somewhere at some point this week.  In some ways, I'm jealous of friends who are studying abroad without much studying... But I guess it's better this way, since I won't struggle too much come January to get back into the flow of things at Villanova.

My bed is calling to me now, I want to rest while I can so that I'm in top shape for class on Monday!  Congratulations if you have made it to here... This was long and probably a bit rambly.  I will improve at writing, I promise!  I will leave you with this video of the ensemble I came across the other day.  I hope it brightens your day as much as it brightened mine!

Orchestra in the Paris Metro from Niamh Cloughley on Vimeo.

A bientot, chers amis xo