Subject: 1ère lettre de Paris

Date: Sat, 16 Sep 2006

So this letter finds me now just over a week in the city of lights, the city of love, Paris, and thus far I have "profité bien". "Profiter" = (v) take advantage of/ benefit. The French love that word and butter their sentences with it more than they butter their bread.

Just today I have finished stomping around some of Paris's well-known, seldom open to the public, government building and houses. You know, the White house equivalent, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, that sort of thing. "How?" you may ask. Well it's because I have higher-ins with the French government. Didn't know that one did you? Okay, so I lie. Saturday and Sunday were "Journées du Patrimoine" throughout France. For these two days of every year, the government buildings and cultural monuments along with near all museums and the like open their doors to the sprawling masses so that the whole world can play “get to know you” with their city.

So bright and early this morning, I woke up to the cock-a-doodle-doo of the rooster living on my bedside table named Mr. Travel Alarm. Half-awake, I wandered a few blocks to the nearest moment; the Palais Royal interior is home to some important government entities. Back in the day, the Palais Royal a Hôtel (mansion) for all them nobles who wanted to be closer to the King (who lived across the street in the Palais de Louvre). Then I went to the Banque Nationale. The main feature there was the grand salon, and let me tell you, grand it was. Equipped with ten huge paintings, plenty of gold gilding and lots of ornate furnishings and decor the room looked like the inside of a Fabrege egg.

After lunch chez moi, I walked over to the "Palais de l'Elysee" which you may understand as the White House of France. After a 2.5-hour wait, I finally got in and even considering how long I stood on my deux pieds waiting, I do think it was worth it. When else would I be able to see this place? Never ever ever, at least not that year. Then across the street with a ten minute wait was the Hôtel where the Chief of State works and the place where important government visitors are hosted (or were once... that’s for sure). Both places were more ostentatious than Liberace and richer that triple chocolate fudge layer cake. Now try and take a bite outta that!
Other than that, I've been doing a lot of city exploring. Seen two graveyards with famous poets and artists and writers. Fortunately they stayed in the ground in lieu of rising up to greet me. I've gotten to know my arrondissement (neighborhood), drunken cheap champagne at night with friends in front of the Tour Eiffel, walked, walked more, and walked STILL more, and gone out to some bar with really tacky music, expensive drinks, but with waitresses wearing interesting masks. Then there have been some methodology classes concerning French university expectations not worth boring you with details about.

My living situation is A++ so far. I'm right in the heart of the city, vibrating among it’s strongest palpitations. In ten minutes or less I can walk to the Louvre, la Comedie Francais, a platter full of churches, L'Opera Garnier, and the birthplace of the slinky (okay, not that last one). In fact they’re all so close, I could practically fall out my window and skewer myself one of their statues. If I'm feeling a bit more venturesome, the Pompidou, and Notre Dame are only a wee bit further.

My mom host Sylvie is great, not in the Alexander type of way, but in the super-duper kind of way. Laid back. Nice. She's got three grown kids (and by that I mean out of the house and not covered in fields of green grass) and works in the fashion industry. To be exact, she is a Mary Kay of fashion; she designs two collections of suits a year and has a select few dames host little parties for others clients. Everyone picks the design and fabric they like. My host mom then takes their measurements and sends the orders to one of here two ateliers. That's it in a shell. A hazelnut shell. (Hazelnuts are a wonderful not and quite under appreciated in the States.) Anyhow, Sylvie really concerned that I have what I like to eat around the house and tries to suit my preferences better than one of her custom-made tailor outfits for her clients. And, to add a maraschino cherry on top, she lets me eat out of the kitchen whenever I want (unlike in Tours and unlike the program rules allow).

Lastly, three cheers for Ryanair who is enabling me to go to Stockholm the second week of October for 0.01 Euro a way (though taxes bring the price up). Why Stockholm? Why not? It was dirt-cheap. And hell, I can. So, in the spirit of the NY Times' frugal traveler, if you have any recommendations of what I should see/do, or have any friends/family there you think I should meet or bum around with, let me know.

For now, I'm off to bigger and better things... maybe... probably just dinner, but that's good as far as I'm concerned.

A bientôt,
Hannah