The Sun Also Rises....eventually

First off shout-outs to Dani and Nate for skypeing me; to John, Lenny, Nick, Reb Sals, Elizabeth, and Dominique for reading; and Burn and Mynelly from work for emailing. My family, of course, goes without mentioning. I'm glad you're all keeping in touch. If I missed you, sorry--but thank you all for keeping tabs.

So as some of you may know one of my favorite books (it's a lie I don't ever read much) is The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway. I first read it in high school and it was one of the first impressions I had of life in Europe, or at least of Americans' lives in Europe, and it helped pique an interest in someday studying abroad in Paris. Well know that I'm here (thanks to so much sacrifice from my family, I really am so damn lucky to be here) I decided to reread the novel and so I bought it at JFK before flying out.

Now I haven't been reading it too much because I'm kind of worried of people spotting the American (Salvadoran en faite) reading on le métro--partly because I know that I consciously take note of who's reading in what language just to see who might be American. I'm getting over that paranoia and since I've continued reading I was blown away to find that the cafés where the characters in the novel hung out are right down the street from Reid Hall, along le Boulevard Montparnasse. Literally off the métro station I get off at to go to school, there are les cafés La Rotonde, Le Select, and Le Dome. This is where Jake Barnes witnessed Robert Cohn being humiliated by his mistress (?) Frances. I've only finished Book I and don't remember too much detail--I know the story moves later on to Spain. Maybe I'll visit. Now I'm not that literary at all, but I figured I should read something of personal interest while away....maybe I'll keep that habit.

Anyways, today we started our French Practicum course at Reid Hall and it was not all that intense. Still it's only the first class, I'm sure it will get more intense in the coming 3 weeks. I also was expecting to start a course at Paris VII called Paris à l'Époque Contemporaire, which will also compare Paris to the fellow European capitals of London and Berlin. I was told Paris VII classes were starting today and after a little trouble finding the right métro stop to take to get there, I made it to Le Centre Tolbiac where the class is held. Now the thing you should know about the French unviersity system (well there's plenty more differences to know but this is one) is that the campuses are spread throughout the city, some even outside of Paris. We're not just talking à la NYU style, I mean really spread out throughout the city. Luckily this one isn't too far from Reid Hall. The center was very different from what I'm used to at Columbia's campus. I took an escalator off the street up onto a plaza surrouned by towers, and what seemed to be residential apartments. There were only a few college aged people on the plaza, which also had closed restaurant stands. It was all very windy and I had to ask where the place I was going was exactly.

To not drag it out, I ended up finding the supposed classroom at 2:30 half an hour late--there was no one there. I found a group of students speaking English who were looking at a posting of class schedules. They were actually in the class I was looking for (and from another Reid Hall program) and they said that the class didn't start till next week. Also, the professors may or may not be going on strike. We'll see what happens with that.

Aside from school, this weekend a bunch of us went out to bars in the area. Actually, we stuck at one bar called The Hideout which is actually pretty nice. There are a bunch of international students and I loved the fact that I heard Spanish, English, and French being spoken...and others I had no idea what they were. One night La Camisa Negra by Juanes was playing. Love it. Also something great when we went out was this random street show of two dancers, one black one white. They were great at intereacting with the crowd going so far as to dance right up on people in the crowd. One of them even called me out at the introduction of their show for having my arms crossed. I put them in my pocket, and one man said not to do that either. The other said it'd be okay to stick my hands in my pants though. The best part was by far when they played Besame by Elvis Crespo. I don't know if it's because I didn't pay attention much in NYC, but I do feel Paris is way more international.

During the weekend I also don't get cooked dinner from my host mother a.k.a. Marie-Chirstine or MCB as she goes by. I guess Columbia has it right on when they say the program is meant to help you "grow up" or become more independent. Not having someone to cook for you, knowing how to cook yourself, or knowing where the cheap spots to buy food are can definitely have that affect on you.

Mike and I went out to dinner twice this weekend. One night I was in the mood for Chinese so we decided to venture to Paris' Chinatown. Now let me just say, it ain't got nothing on NYC's Chinatown. Yes there were plenty of signs in Chinese and even a "market" (neatly tucked away out of sight and in some kind of warehouse off the street), but it was nothing compared to the crazy street markets of Chinatown in NYC. Even Boston's Chinatown has at least the gate to mark where it begins--but the food I had there sucked! The place we decided to eat was a sit-down place and wasn't bad at all, but the portions were French sized. I just want to find a good hole-in-the-wall take out joint. Damn I miss Empire.

Another night Mike chose the place and this time it was Italien, up by Montmartre. (That's where Sacré Coeur is, a basilica on the highest point in Paris--I think. Great views.) The place was easy to find and it had a good bunch there, but not too full. The prices were great and I ordered the Penne Carbonara which had a creamy sauce and most importantly bits of pork. Some of the best pasta I've ever had. Now what I took out of these two dining experiences was more than just the food itself, but the cultural mindfuck that goes on at these restaurants. I used to like to think of myself as a pretty cultured person, at least in terms of me being of a different cultural background. In fact, it's not until having come to Paris that I can even begin to imagine what it is to have a real cultural exchange. I have so much more appreciation and respect for any international student. To think that here I am in Chinatown Paris, looking at a menu in Cantonese and French ordering from a waiter who barely speaks French also, all while thinking in English.

That was (or is) after all the 2nd major goal of this semester. Coming from a family of immigrants I saw, but didn't experience, the difficulty of navigating a different culture. This is of course not the same thing my family went through, much respect to anyone who has the balls to travel to unknown lands (excuse the cheesiness). Still I am beginning to understand so much more. Even in my case though you have the problem of 1st generation immigrants, caught in between languages and cultures. I came to realize that problem a lot last semetser, and this semester is helping me sort that.

Anyways, there's a bunch more I'd like to say but it's getting late and I do have homework to do. Hope these posts aren't too long to read. Hope to hear from you.

Au revoir

P.S. - since I still have some cheesiness in mind, I'd just like to note that I find it weird to be doing this blog stuff. Some of you know and I at times do say as we do in Spanish, que no me gusta "volarme." In other words, I usually don't like talking about myself or what I'm up to, to avoid sounding like I'm bragging. I like sharing this though, since despite the great time I'm having here I really do miss you all.