Because I Like Lists...

I've been starting to find that essentially any question I have regarding all things Parisian has the same answer. Three examples:

1) A few weeks ago, the metro line I was on decided to stop running and boot everyone off at Concorde and I wondered why. Answer: Because they're on strike.

2) Last Tuesday I tried to go to an architecture class at Université Paris I - Panthéon-Sorbonne, but I showed up to find the building a ghost town and wondering why no one was there. Answer: Because they're on strike.

3) The other day I wondered why I wasn't making any French friends. Answer: They, too, are all on strike.


Which leads me to the conclusion that if America's national pastime is baseball, France's is going on strike (faire la grève). In America, it's three strikes and you're out. In France, it's three strikes and you're just an amateur, but come on back next Tuesday and there's a manifestation in Montparnasse. All the cool kids are doing it. I'm pretty sure that the most effective way of making French friends would probably not be, as suggested by our director, tapping a French student on the shoulder and saying roughly the equivalent of "yo whatup I'm American and stupid, let's be friends,"but instead donning a picket sign and catchy chant ending in "dans la rue" and marching the streets with all the grève-ers. No matter if I have no idea why they're grève-ing (5 weeks paid vacation every year? 35 hour work weeks? Free education? Free health care? Yeah, I'd be pretty pissed, too.) If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Even the police force standing on the side of the road watching the marching masses look a tad bit jealous and unthreatening at best.



Now for a Top Ten Tally of small, everyday victories and corresponding failures:

1) Mastering the French laundry machines (victory) but not managing to figure out how to work the drying rack contraption above the shower (which I'm sure is a close cousin of the guillotine) without risking losing a limb (failure). Lucky for me, turns out the drying machine actually dries clothes effectively without shrinking them (victory).

2) Buying a ballgown (victory) for a ball I will be attending at the Opéra Garnier (victory!!!!!) with a broken zipper (failure) that can be fixed and which I used as leverage to bargain myself into a 15% discount (victory).

3) Figuring out the bus system (victory) but almost missing my stop because the doors closed on me (failure) and I was spared by a nice French lady who yelled "La porte, s'il vous plaît!" so the driver would open the doors (victory for the French reputation, props for that lady for dispelling negative French stereotypes).

4) Being pelted with berries by adolescent French boys whilst sitting in the Jardins de Luxembourg (hilarious failure).

5) Getting a successfull haircut in Paris (decently priced, no mullet action) despite hyper-active French hairstylists thanks to Katherine's gold-medal efforts (victory) at looking up salon terminology on the interwebs.

6) Thinking it would be funny to stage a fake-proposal at a restuarant in Lyon on Valentine's Day in an attempt to get free stuff (would-be victory) and then realizing that no one was going to give us so much as a free glass of wine and that it would be wise to abandon ship and stick to Plan A (making fun of all the sugary sweet couples), only to realize that Santi had asked how to propose à la francaise when he got a wink and a "bonne chance" from the waiter upon leaving (failure times 10 and the second most embarrassing moment of my life, congrats Santi, you win this time).

7) Befriending the owners of the all-night crêpe stand (victory!) by Emma's apartment who feed us delicious crêpes (victory!!) and ward off the semi-sketchy 3 am clientele (victory).

8) Walking along the Seine or exploring the beautiful 16ème getting exercise without touching a treadmill(victory) wearing sweatpants (yes, victory, I've gotten over being judged by the French) on a Sunday only to find that virtually all food establishments are closed except for McDonalds, which in an ironic twist = Gina's 3rd time eating at MacDo in Paris (failure).

9) Eating falafel at the best falafel place in France - L'As de Falafel - three times (victory) but never without managing to escape being awkwardly flirted with (failure) because I look/am mediterranean and ethnic. Even when wearing faux-pas sweatpants (failure).

10) The ability to find a decent bottle of wine for 3 euro at your local monoprix (do I even need to label this one?)


And, finally, my favorite "only in Paris" moment:
Walking back home from a gala/concert/dance party at an aquarium (where you exchanged your entrance ticket for tickets for free cocktails and beautifully dressed French college students milled about amongst floor-to-ceiling fish tanks listening to and occassionally dancing to techno music, swing/jazz bands, and a rock band), late enough for the Eiffel Tower to be in shadow emo-style with semi-snow misting my hair. That was a good enough reality check as any to realize yeah, I'm really lucky to be here.



Until next time, one last list of a few things to ponder...

Things I have gotten used to:
1) not smiling at people on the street
2) the fact that French people don't know how to walk

Things I haven't quite yet gotten over:
1) France's rampant and unabashed love of PDA
2) the fact that the announcements at every train station begin with the first three notes of "Soldier Boy"