Ode to narrow streets and red tape

Sunday, 28 Jan 2007

First things first... (Have you ever thought that that is really a dumb expression? Me neither, but I just did.) I'll be packing the bags and moseying on down to Barcelona the last week of February with two friends. Playing my role a la NYTimes frugal traveler I will ask you to send along recommended floors to sleep on, good cheap restaurants, and ideas of what to see and do should you have any information.

Lately I've been in Paris. SUPRISE! Funny how that happens. Anyhow, I sure have been profite-ing (to make a horrible franglacism) bien. Since two Thursdays ago, lets count
Here… that makes 10 days... I've been out 8 nights. It's like I'm the oil in the Hanukkah story... Lasting 8 days, or nights rather, of burning the midnight oil I’ve become the Little Engine that could. That must be, as Nora would know, why I'm named Hannah. Hanukkah, Hannah.... see
the similarities? Do I not make sense in English anymore? That's possible... The other
day I tried to spell 'enough'. I spelled it correctly, then looked at the word and thought "is that correct? How can 'gh' make an 'f' sound... that must be wrong, but enouf and enouph certaintly aren't right...” I couldn’t figure it out so I substituted the French equivalent knowing that the friend I was writing would understand.

But I’m not just going out to clubs and bars, I've been doing the whole museum thing too. I recently have seen the house of Victor Hugo and the Musee de Monmartre. I finally made it to the exposition a one minute walk from my house housed in the old national library. You know that old rule of proximity? The closer you are to something, the less likely you are to take advantage of it? I'm trying to defy that with every fiber of my being (which consists of a lot of whole wheat and oats).

I saw a great photo exhibit of Doisneau photos at the Hotel deVille... He the guy who's taken all those famous black and whites of Paris like that one of the couple kissing. You know? Oh Paris, la ville d'amour.

A attended a, and I quote, " sculpture aerostatique", inspired or organized by Yves Kline at the Pompidou. Yves Kline, if you aren’t familiar with him, is a popular guy in these parts. He sculpts things and paints them this shocking color of blue entitled 'Yves Kline blue' (original,eh?). He even patented this color. It’s sort of astounding, to be honest, when you see it in person. Maybe its the lighting, but it’s incredibly vibrant and looks almost fuzzy. I think he stole the color from aliens. Anyhow, back to the topic sentence… This 'sculpture' involved handing out 1001 blue balloons and upon an announcement, having the crowd release the balloons into the air.
For all I imagined it would be anticlimatic, it was pretty purdy. However, when you start to wonder how many birds died choking on maverick balloon parts.... But hey, its ok to kill a few
chirpers and to drop rubber bits all over France in order to have a nice, seconds-long art exhibit, right?

I began classes with my program this week, but class? I hardly know what that is anymore. Oh, wait, just kidding mom and dad, just kidding.

French culutural note: So after the French eat dinner, if there are leftovers (and they try passionately to avoid that... if they don’t try to force it on you, they hide it under the table, or use it as a new hair treatment, or use magic spells to make it *poof* disappear), the theory often is... “Well, it's been cooked, it’s safe to leave it on the counter”... chicken, meat, vegetables, you name it. Who needs refrigeration anyhow? Its overrated.

Helpful fact: If you plan on dying soon and want to be special, you can buy a lot in Pierre-Lachaise Cemetery to put yourself 6 feet under next to the likes of Jim Morrison and Molière. (Disclaimer: this might need to be done way in advance... look into it asap if you're interested...). Either way, keep in mind that about 10 years after your are buried, you will be exhumed and transferred to another ‘lodgement’ for the remainder of eternity. You can have your 5 seconds of fame, but unless you’re someone really important, you’re not important enough to beat the supply and demand curve.

France recently opened up the phone lines to competition. Until this point, the phones were all run by the government. The start-up teleservice companies, however, have still to run through state phone lines. My host mom decided, recently, to stop subscribing to the more expensive
state line. A bit pissed to lose a client, naturally, the Man evidently interferes in such cases,
delaying the new line from working. For 11 days now, our house phone has not been working. There was a recent radio emission talking about this... evidently there are many who are having this problem. How’s that for bureaucracy?

This morning I went to a North African market in the 11ème arrondisement. Part food, part brick-a-brak antiques. I bought some leechees (yes I spelled that wrong). They have them fresh here in the shell. The shell is prickly and pink... maybe a good torture device for Barbie to use. 'Ken if you borrow my cotton-candy pink convertible without asking, I'm gonna throw a leechee at you!!"

The market on rue Mouffetard, however, has a group that comes complete with accordion, keyboard and paper printed lyrics ready to sing and dance the morning away. Every Sunday this group of eclectics and passerbys swing their partner round and round and belt out famous French songs. It’s très mignon.

A momentary plug… You should all come visit! STA travel is having a spring break sale of flights to Paris for under 300 RT for students! Haha! If any of you take that up, I will by you an almond croissant a.k.a heaven in a pastry.

Tonight I'm going to go to my first ever salsa club. It will probably much more difficult than my beginner class with the teacher who sports bike shorts and flashdance socks, but I'll gonna give it a whirl.

And so my faithful readers I bid you a temporary adieu.

A la prochain,
Hannah