My Blog Died

My blog died, but in other news, my brother just moved to San Diego and is starting a real estate marketing company. His new venture, Summit Floorplans, takes measurements of a house and then turns it into a floor plan for real estate agents to use in their marketing materials. I hope he does well because I might be looking for a job at Summit Floorplans when I graduate next year!

Traveling > Classes

Hello! It’s been a while since I’ve recapped what's been going on so I’ll try to recall this past week or so as best as I can. I’m not sure if I was clear from the start, but I am not attending a French university. Instead, I take all of my classes at my program’s “study center” with the other American students in my program. I feel I can accurately claim that I’m not attending “real” school. kind of a joke, sorry mom and dad. Though it may a joke work and grade wise, they have a strict attendance policy and it's kind of bumming me out. Classes are in full swing now and I am starting to see how the rest of the semester will go in each of them. My French classes are nothing special and pretty much all review. I like having easy French classes, it’s one less thing to worry about while I’m here.

My Memory and Commemoration class is awesome. I was not initially signed up for this class, however I’m so happy I switched. This class is a history class with a twist that teaches us about all of the historical landmarks around Paris and how they impact modern times. My favorite part about this class is the outings we go on regularly to each the sites we discuss. It’s a great way to see different parts of the city and a great way to break up three hours of classroom time.

Avant-Garde Art is an interesting class. Having no background in art history, I’m learning an incredible amount. The teacher is very nice and very French. Though his English is near perfect there are still some things that get lost in translation. It’s a fairly laid-back class and it’s fun to learn about world-renowned painters who lived and worked so close to home (my Parisian home anyways).

My 20th Century French Novel class will be the death of me. It is the most boring thing I’ve sat through in my entire life – including church, graduations, etc. Every Wednesday for about three hours I want to kill myself. Not only is my teacher completely monotone, but he also only lectures - there's no discussion. We are currently reading Marcel Proust’s “Swann’s Way” and I’m bored to tears. He talks for hours about aristocrats, art, music, and love. It’s going to be a long semester as far as that class is concerned.

Outside of class I’ve been trying to keep busy. My dad came to visit this past weekend before he went to work for a week in London. It was perfect timing because our Packers were in the Super Bowl. We found a bar that was broadcasting the game and ended up watching it with two other men we had met there. Kick off was at 12:30am Parisian time, but the extremely late night was well worth it. It was a great time, I’m so glad he was able to make the trip, and the Packers won!

I’ve got quite a bit of traveling coming up. Tonight I’ll fly to Spain with Hannah and we'll spend the weekend in Madrid and Toledo. Next weekend starts our winter break and we have the entire following week off of school. Sam, Hannah and I are doing a week in Italy. We plan to spend a day in Milan, four days in Florence, and three days in Rome. I am so excited for that trip! The weekend following that, I am taking a train to Strasbourg, France with Hannah and Jess for the weekend. Though I spent a couple weeks there years ago, I’m looking forward to going back. I will try to update about my Spanish adventures as soon as I get back. À bientôt!

Things are just a little bit different here.

Since my arrival in Paris, I've made many observations. They range from pleasant surprises to rude awakenings and all are worthy of being noted. Here are 15 lessons I've learned over the past 3 weeks:

1) Baguettes can be eaten with virtually anything – cheese, nutella, jam, etc. This can quite easily serve as an entire meal as well.

2) I’ve never felt so blonde in my life. Even though Paris is very white, blondes do not exist.

3) There are pros and cons to being American…and a girl.

4) I’m craving fast food that isn’t a baguette sandwich – a Chipotle burrito would be nice.

5) French pedestrians are not cautious of drivers. French drivers are not cautious of pedestrians.

5) Bars can be misleading. When you first walk in it might look like a typical laid-back bar or pub, but go downstairs and there are strobe lights, a DJ, a dance floor, etc.

7) Pizza Hut is a nice sit-down restaurant and McDonalds sells beer.

8) Dogs, marijuana, open containers, and puking are all allowed on the metro.

9) Even wine that cost €1.80 will undoubtedly be delicious.

10) EVERYONE smokes. Everyone, I swear. Employees constantly take smoking breaks right outside their place of work. Between that and the coffee breaks at the café…seriously, when do these people work?

11) A crêpe is the most delicious thing you can eat when you’re intoxicated at 3am.

12) Miming helps A LOT. Even for words that don’t necessarily have a universal motion or gesture.

13) Groups of Asian women don’t get dressed up and hang out on street corners for fun – they’re working.

14) It’s a misleading stereotype that the French can cook. Even the French admit this. They may appreciate food, but that doesn’t mean they can cook it.

15) At restaurants, it's not possible get anything wrapped up or in a “doggy-bag” to go. It’s frustrating when I can’t eat a whole pizza in one sitting.

The more I learn about the way things are done in France, the more I'll update. Weekend recap and class descriptions will come soon.

John C. Reilly is a Bears fan.

Sorry it’s been a while. Like every other project I start, this blog has succumbed to procrastination. There’s a lot to talk about, but I’ll try to be concise. I’ve been hanging out with Hannah, a girl named Jess from Boston and a girl named Sam from Phillie. When I say “we” I’m referring to the four of us.

Last Friday night Allie showed us a bar she frequented last semester, which is conveniently close to our school – perfect for FAC. We were invited to sit down by a group of guys who were there celebrating their friend’s 21st birthday and we ended up hanging out with them all night. Between the 8 or so guys that were there, their proficiency in English ranged from exceptional to absolute shit. I have no room to talk however, because my French is nothing to brag about. At one point in the night I was looking for my coat and one of the guys, who spoke no English, asked me what I was looking for. I replied “Mon couteau, mon couteau”. The guy looked at me weird and then, Abdou, who is fluent in both, corrected me, “you mean ‘mon manteau’.” I immediately realized I had stated that I was looking for “my knife”. Abdou joked, “to cut, a coat, it’s the same thing”.

Side note - Last week I bought conditioner for my hair. I was next to the shampoos and has the word for moisturizer on it so i figured it'd be fine. Later that day when I was in the shower I put it in my hair and it didn't feel right. I turned the bottle around and couldn't find the word for "hair" anywhere on the bottle. I'm pretty sure I put shower gel in my hair. Damnit.

Saturday night was a bust, so come Sunday Hannah and I were excited to go out for the NFC championship game. Hannah found a place that is a Canadian bar which shows American sports games. We got there shortly after kickoff and the place was packed. Every American who happened to be in Paris was most definitely in that bar that night. Through the crowed of people, one person stood out because he was a good 5 inches taller than everyone else. It was John C. Reilly….I kid you not. It suddenly made sense why people kept saying “Boats an’ hos!” He wouldn’t take a picture for me, so Hannah and I settled for standing next to him during the game. I noticed that he kept talking to this woman in front of him and she was asking him about what agency he worked with and what not. I turned to Hannah and asked, “who is this chick?” Who had the balls to talk up John C. Reilly like it was nothing and have the nerve to ask about showbiz? Well once she turned all the way around, it was clear. It was Jodie Foster. Instantly all I could think about was Silence of the Lambs. Hannah and I stayed in that spot the whole game. John C. Reilly was rooting for the Bears and Jodi Foster was such a flip-flopper. We met some nice Packer fans that were there on their honeymoon and there were a ton of other American students there as well. Overall it was a fun place to be, which was only made more fun by the exciting game itself. And now the Packers are in the Superbowl!

Classes started this week and for the most part, I’m pretty excited. My French classes are not difficult, yet I’m not extremely bored. I have two French classes; a conversation class and a grammar class. They each meet twice a week for an hour and a half. In addition to those I take three “content classes” that are in English but have a French theme of course. I’m taking Memory and Commemoration, Avant-garde art history, and 20th Century French Novels. They all sound really interesting, however each content class is 3 hours long. Though they only meet once a week, I know it’ll be a struggle to keep my attention in those long classes. Since most of this week consisted mostly of syllabus and “getting to know you introductions” I’ll write more about classes later.

I know some of you are asking yourself (namely mom and dad) “Has she actually done anything cool since being there?” And the answer is yes. To solidify the fact that I’m not just partying and shopping here, I’ll let you know what I’ve done. I’ve gone to Musée d’Orsay and just scratched the surface of what can be seen there. I’ve gone to the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Élysées, and the Eiffle Tower. I’ve been to the Bastille, the Marais, and the Latin Quarter. Hannah and I were dying to go to a Monet exhibit that was open 24 hours, but even at 3 am the line was multiple hours long. We decided against it and then heard that it was so packed once you got inside anyway, it wouldn’t have been worth it. Lame.

In two weekends I am going to Madrid for a few days with Hannah to celebrate her friend’s birthday. The weekend following that is the start of our winter break. Hannah, Sam and I are spending the week in Italy going to Milan, Florence, and Rome. I’m very excited to start traveling. Sorry I waited so long to post, I’ll be quicker from now on. Beaucoup d'amour de Paris!

Lots of Love.

I've been here for a week now and I love it. This week I have French class for 3 hours each morning and next week I'll start my full schedule of semester classes. I’ve been exploring Paris with a few other people this past week. We would get a suggestion from someone else and inevitably decide, “It’s worth checking out.” During all of my exploration, in addition to the walk I make to and from school every day, I've noticed a few things in particular about French (specifically Parisian) people. Aside from the obvious, (they love cheese, wine, and cigarettes) here are 5 more things the French love that are apparent to me:

1. The French love American music. Every store, restaurant, etc. I walk into is blasting some sort of American pop song. I've noticed they especially like Rihanna, Black Eyed Peas, and Katy Perry. Normally I wouldn't feel any particular way about this, however the volume of the music is comparable to that of the music in Abercrombie and Fitch stores in the US - way too loud.

2. The French love Razor scooters as a mode of transportation, seriously….like the kind you push with your feet. While they are obviously popular with little kids, I’ve seen a staggering number of adults, women and men alike, who use a Razor scooter to get around Paris. It’s difficult not to laugh when a grown man in a suit with a briefcase slung across his chest comes tearing around the corner on a small silver scooter.

3. The French love Levi jeans. I can’t say I disagree with their taste in fashion - UGG boots are nowhere to be found.

4. The French love relaxing, taking breaks, not working, whatever you want to call it. I don’t mean to call them lazy, because they’re not. I still haven’t figured out how it works, but at any given time during the day there will undoubtedly be a good number of people sitting at a café, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer/wine. I truly don’t understand how cafes are full of people at 2:30pm. Don’t they have somewhere to be? I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m determined to find out how this is possible.

5. The French love, love. I guess there’s a reason Paris is known as “the City of Love”, there’s PDA everywhere. On the street, on the metro, in cafes, you name it. Chances are there is PDA going on somewhere in your vicinity. Love really is all around. It’s something I’ll just have to get used to because it seems to be widely accepted in French culture. Still, at times it’s a bit shocking and uncomfortable.

That’s what I’ve noticed so far, there will be more to come as discoveries continue to be made. I’ll update again sometime next week. Plans for this weekend include a club/discothèque. They open at 11:30pm and close at 6:00am, let the debauchery begin. Sorry mom and dad.

Umbrella? Check.

For fear of boring you to tears, I'll skip over the boring stuff we did on Friday and get right to the exciting part: host family assignments. We were each given a sheet with the name of the person(s) whose place we would be living in, as well as a description of what they're like (which they had clearly written about themselves). I am staying with Mme Corine Polacesek and her 14 year old daughter, Adelie. On the paper I was given with her bio, I learned she was an events coordinator for major bank in Paris, has a little black cat, is very open with students, and has a washing machine, haha.

The next step after receiving our assignments was to call the host and ask what time we should arrive at their house. This was extremely nerve-racking not only because speaking with a French person in general is difficult, but speaking to one on the phone is exponentially worse. They speak incredibly fast and there is no help from hand motions or signs. My host mom laughed at me when I called her, I wonder what I said. After calling a cab (also tricky) I arrived at my host family’s building around 6. On the sheet given to me by CIEE they provided me with the codes to get into her building. I found out the hard way that they had changed. After many confusing phone calls and quite a few stares from people on the street I was able to eventually get in her building via the help of someone else who lies there.

When she greeted me she gave me the bis (kisses on the cheek) and showed me all around her apartment. I didn’t really know what to make of the place initially. She’s what I like to call a “gyppie”, a mixture of a gypsy and hippe. I want to be clear that I’m not knocking her and I don’t dislike her place….it’s just different. It’s very colorful and is full of weird paintings, draped fabric and plants. Not to mention there is incense on every surface and a swing in the living room. I really didn’t know what to make of it until she told me how much she loved the arts, especially theater, painting, and dancing. My room is a very decent size with a beautiful balcony, a large desk, a bed, and oh yeah…an extremely large drink umbrella that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. Not sure what that’s all about.

After my tour and while I was unpacking, Mme. P (as I’ll call her from now on), made me “un petit snack”. This “little snack” she was talking about consisted of a burger with an egg over-easy on top and on a bun, a bowl of rice, and le paté. This is not the first time since being here that someone has assumed I eat a lot; Americans are generalized as heavy eaters. She explained that she had to go somewhere and that she would be back at 11 for dinner and wine. I knew that Parisians eat late, but 11? She left soon after showing me “the small snack” she made and thank god for that because I didn’t feel rude not eating it all and she wasn’t forced to see my face when I tried her concoctions. She ended up not getting home till after midnight and I had fallen asleep, so we weren’t able to do dinner.

When I woke up this morning I wanted to explore my neighborhood and figure out exactly where I was in relation to school. To my surprise, I am just a 10-15 mins. walk from school and am just south of Monmartre! I could not have asked for a better location. The neighborhood is fairly young and contains many big department stores as well as cafes, boulangeries, et restaurants. Though it is decently close to Mulan Rouge and the whole red light district, I still feel safe and have not received any warnings about the area. Now that I have settled into my new home and am about to begin the routine of classes, I hope to stop feeling like a tourist. These past few days have been a perpetual 8th grade field trip and I’m glad to finally move on my own time and to not be one in a loud group of 30 Americans. I shall update more soon!


My building from the outside, I'm on the second floor, which is really the third.


Giant drink umbrella in the middle of my bedroom.


The swing in the living room.


That's the washing machine on the left. It's tiny and sits in the bathroom next to the sink. The toilette is in a completely different room.


The floor to ceiling windows in my bedroom that open onto a balcony. I can't wait till it get's warmer!


Last but not least, le paté. This was part of my "small snack" and as she pointed to it she said "le paté, uhh......oui, le paté." She looked like she was going to explain what was in it, but either realized she didn't know or decided it was in my best interest that I didn't know. I had one bite of it and that was all I could stomach.

Le "metroface"

Hello friends and family! I am sorry it’s taken so long to write, access to wifi has proven to be difficult. So much has happened these past few days, I apologize if this post is lengthy. The flight over here was possibly the easiest flight I’ve ever had. The plane was nearly empty and from what I could tell based on the people around me, everyone had their own row of seats. When I got off the plane I followed everyone like a sheep first to customs then to baggage, because I had no idea where I was going. At customs, I was expecting to have to explain to the employee that I was a student and there to study for 5 months, that is after all why I had to go through the painstaking process of getting a visa right? I still don’t know what the visa in the back of the passport does for me because the man glanced at my passport picture, stamped the inside and sent me on my way within seconds, not once looking for a visa.

The rest of the first day was a blur due to my zombie like state of mind that jet lag had induced, but I’ll do my best to recount it chronologically. After meeting many of the other program participants and getting a cab, we checked into the FIAP (a nice hostel, essentially) where we were greeted by the program director. All we wanted to do was put down our luggage and take a nap, but we were commanded not to sleep until after dinner. For our first dinner we walked as a group (there’s a little over 30 of us) to a restaurant near the FIAP where they had prepared a three-course meal for us containing popular French dishes. The salad had a certain kind of meat on it that we all started eating until we found out it was gizzards. The entrée was duck and potatoes, which was actually delicious. The dessert was the most puzzling, mostly because it did not taste sweet in any way shape or form. I tasted like extremely whipped liquidy cream cheese with a little bit of jelly in it or something? I’m not sure, but no one at my table was able to eat even a spoonful of it. After dinner some people wanted to go out, but since I nearly fell asleep in my food, I decided to go to sleep.

On Thursday we learned how to get to “the center” which is where CIEE’s offices are as well as where I’ll be taking all of my classes. It is located in the 2nd arrondissement, which is very central, and is within walking distance of the Louvre. We walked around the majority of the day, and we also got our metro passes and cell phones. We listened to lectures about health and safety and learned about the “metroface”. Apparently when I ride the metro, not only do I have to hold onto my purse with both hands to avoid pick-pocketing, I also have to look extremely pissed off at the world and not make eye contact with anyone. This is known as the “metroface”. For dinner, Hannah and I elected not to eat at the FIAP cafeteria and decided to get pizza and a glass of wine. (For those of you who don’t know, Hannah is a friend of mine from Iowa who is participating in the same program).

After dinner we met up with another student from the program, Allie (also a hawkeye), who had been here last semester and she showed us a fun area with beaucoup de bars. While the three of us were sitting outside sharing a bottle of wine, we saw four French teenagers stumbling drunk down the street. One of the girls fell down in the street and caused the cars behind her to stop and wait. It took a while for her drunken friends to bend down and help get the shitshow on her feet again, but no one honked or yelled or tried to get around them. The thing that really blew all of our minds was the fact that a police car drove right by on a different street just yards away and did not even slow down. Hannah, Allie, and I came to the conclusion that that would not fly in Iowa City. We called it an early night because the metro stops running around 12:15 and we did not want to take a cab, not to mention we had to be packed and out of our room at 9am the next morning!