Email complete with surprise toy - see inside of box for details

Friday, 9 Feb 2007


Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Hannah email theater. Please turn off your cell phones. In case of emergency, the exits are located to your upper right hand corner in the box with a x. We hope you enjoy the show.

So, you think Paris is a big city? Guess again. Someone sing me a refrain of it’s a small world after all. These past few days I ran into people I knew not one, not two, but three times. Friday, walking down rue de Rivoli, I saw a friend of Felix, my friend Molly's ‘copain’. No, sorry, there are no aunt's uncle's nephew's dog's friend involved. It's as simple as the aforestated. He was with another person who I, in turn, ran into two days later on the banks of the Seine. Then, another night while sipping delicious sangria at le 10 bar, guess who walks in, but two guys who I spoke with a bit at an Erasmus soiree a few evenings prior. One of them asked for my friend Selene's number and later asked her to coffee. The funny thing is, we can’t remember his name. Guess she'll find out. In addition, one particular character also at the bar that night (easily identifiable by his handlebar moustache and thick-rimmed glasses) I saw the following week at another bar, the Pop-in.

Today, I am typing to you from an... AMERICAIN KEYBOARD! Do you know what that means? I, once more have a computer. YAYYY! It also means after weeks of using French keyboards, I'm typing ‘;’ instead of ‘m’, ‘q’ instead of ‘a’, ‘z’ instead of ‘w’. In addition, my shift key tactility is all messed up. Is there anything sadder than forgetting one's native keyboard-tongue?

So biggest news of the last few days/weeks around this joint they call the city of lights is that I'm now dating a Frenchman Thomas whom I met at a club. Yes at a club. That sounds so near-skeevy/silly. It was an Erasmus soiree at a club of sorts (usually, it's at a club, but this one was at Planet Hollywood. Lets forget that fact and pretend I didn’t set foot in that commercial monstrosity). Erasmus, ye locale organization of international youngin’-s in Europe, organizes two discotheque nights per week for students, so yes, that’s right, I, with my dance moves hotter than John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, seduced me a French man.

Turns out to be a good catch too... Thomas spent 7 years of his childhood in Africa and in Quatar. He plays basketball and once ran/biked a 5-day team marathon through the Alps. He goes to Polytechnique, the French equivalent of what would happen if Harvard and West Point had a child. Oh, and he's nice and funny, but that should be a no-brainer for you folks.

The school, Polytechnique, is actually quite interesting in and of itself. It was founded by Napoleon and maintains a military aspect, requiring that all students spend a year in the army. Then, there are two years on the Polytechnique campus, before, as I understand it, a required year abroad or in another French institution. For the two years at the school itself, there are lectures every Thursday from noted politicians and generals, as well as a campus equipped with near-all amenities - even a coiffeur (haircutter). Every Friday, the students must dress up like Napoleon and walk around with their right hand shoved in the buttons of their shirt and babble on about those conniving fiends at the battle of Waterloo. Okay, that’s a lie, but for the Thursday lectures, the students must wear their actual uniforms - black and gold complete with decorative sword and, yes that’s right, Napoleon hat. They love Napoleon hats there. The on campus man-made pond is shaped like a Napoleon hat too. The school is the first to march up the Champs de l'Elysee during the Bastille Day parade. They also have a ball every year at the Opera Garnier... it’s all Cinderella-style... check it out... http://www.baldelx.com/ ...90% of you will have trouble understanding the words at this site, but pictures are always worth a 1000 of those silly things anyhow. So ‘Are you Hannah invited?’ you want to know. Like any good celebrity facing maters of press, I say no comment. I will not jinx things. I will only go dress shopping.

Among other things, I've been hopping around food markets, I have visited to the free TinTin exhibit at the Pompidou (nostalgia!), and visited the Musee Quai Branly home to not western, but ancient arts.

And, to wrap up (skip the mayo please)... everybody’s favorite.... French cultural differences! Ahem… Visualize the following situation... you are walking down the toothpick-narrow Parisian sidewalks, and you see two people walking side-by-side coming towards you. What do you expect to happen? Any normal American in the quickly approaching group of two would 'que-up' (to say it British-ly), one would fall back behind the other to make space for you, ye friendly approaching fellow pedestrian. But noo, in Paris, as the two continue to approach, they don’t move! WHAT DO YOU DO!? Do you…
A. step out into the street and potential oncoming traffic
B. march straight on through and try to make them move,
or C. do you grow wings and fly?
Choose your own adventure. Me, tired of being forced down into the street, I've developed a
strategy... Learn this well for the next time you find yourself in such a fierce sidewalk-walking dilemma... Stay close to the wall-side of the 'trotoir' (sidewalk). If you stay close to the wall, then they have no choice but to move… or body check you into the wall like a Canadian hockey player. HAH I am genius. Non-space-making-Parisien-trotoir-ers, watch out, your worst nightmare is walking down a sidewalk near you.

Well kiddos, take care o' yo-selfs. Yes, 'yo'selves.

Hannah