There are so many things I have to be thankful for this year and always. Thursday evening, I enjoyed fantastic Thanksgiving dinner on the Eiffel Tower (not at the Jules Verne) with new friends, old friends, and a pretty decent attempt at capturing the joy that is Thanksgiving. Certain things were different but I can hardly complain about being able to eat on the Tower again - yes, I did it in senior year of High School. Yes, I am totally that cool. Regardless, the meal made me realize just how much I have to be grateful for in my life, starting with Paris. Everyone knows I complain about Paris. I have a hard time with its people, with the fact that they do not ever understand me, and am still not entirely pleased that eggs are not sold in a cold case. However, the De Ribiers have been so incredible, minus some internet drama, that I am able to push aside all of the issues I have with Paris and just say that I love it.
The truth is, there is no place like home, no place like New York. But there isn't supposed to be. I have my issues with the city as well, and at this point I assume it to be natural to be so ready to go home. By this point in the semester, I normally am so fried and so over being at NYU, and Thanksgiving always proves to be a relief. Now that its come and gone, I know I only have a matter of weeks left, and I find myself in a bittersweet position. I cannot wait to live my life and get back to the lifestyle I fell in love with last semester, but I don't want to leave this place anymore. This semester has been so heart-wrenching, so many different emotions occurring all that the same time, so many that sometimes I feel like I might burst.
Maybe I'm like one of the ex-pats now. I have two loves and two countries. Maybe I'll even consider Paris a second home when I get back to New York.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Ciao Bella! Or, Adrienne and Brianne find really old stuff...
Let me announce forwardly, and hopefully seriously, that I am officially moving to Italy. There are a series of reasons for this:
1. Pizza
2. Old shit just hanging all around the city (i.e. the Colloseum, Constantine's Arc, the Forum, and other things that I can't remember but photos will prove they exist)
3. Gelatto
4. Italian people in general.
5. The weather.
Roma was absolutely beautiful. The weather was perfect and was a much needed escape from all this ridiculous rain and cold and back and forth here in Paris. I think someone needs to decide if it's winter yet because I can't deal with these random bursts of 60 degree days and then 40 degree days and 30 degree mornings. One complaint I have about Rome - more than any other city I've seen in my brief stint here in Europe - is that there is ENTIRELY TOO MUCH GRAFITTI. Um, hello? Do you realize how important your city is? Please stop drawing shit all over it and defacing its beauty. Punks.
Adrienne and I started our day with delicious pasta. I won't tell you my food was amazing at every restaurant we ate at because that would be a blantant lie. But, it was cheap, and the two amazing meals and all the desserts outweigh the crappy pasta I had for my last meal there. I freaking love Napoleatano (sp?) style pizza. Anyone going to Rome needs to check out Da Ricci's (or, Est! Est! Est! to the locals) for an authentic meal that everyone in Rome apparently LOVES. Best pizza ever, ever, even better than Two Boots, but I might be the only one who still LOVES Two Boots. The rest of the day became a search for really old shit, as I put it every time, and our reaction was always "How old is that?"
Went to the Vatican, saw the Sistine Chapel, no big deal really... Except that it was and the Vatican is MASSIVE and I actually thought we were going to die Friday night from all the walking. Climbed to the top of St Peter's and really thought death was near... That hike made Sacre Coeur look like a breeze. St Peter's was beautiful and was my second favorite part of the trip, aside from the Coloseo, which was apparently not originally called that, thought I don't remember what they originally called it... Also, the pope was not present so I couldn't say hello, but I totally managed to use the Lord's name in vain at least 20 times. I think Adrienne was ready to hit me.
Seriously, I don't know HOW we did it, but I'm pretty sure we saw everything that most normal people see in Rome and then some. Thank God for my guide book. Also, leave it to me to happen to stumble upon the Jewish quarter in Rome of all places. Yes, it exists. No, I'm not making this up. You don't have to believe me. The square was called Jeruselum Plaza, no joke.
Let's talk about Gelatto. Went to Giolitti, where Audrey Hepburn goes in Roman Holiday, and got a chocolate, pignoli (pine nuts), and coffee gelatto cone and sighed. Hello, Italy, thank you for the gift of the best ice cream ever. The next night I went to Italy's oldest gelatto shop, which was right by my adorable B&B, and had rice, hazenut-chocolate that was not nutella because there were nuts in it, and tiramisu. HEAVENLY. The rice tasted like rice pudding. Who ever decided getting 3 flavors on a cone was a good idea is a genius. A genius. I hope to get to Ossining Pizzeria when I get home for some gelatto, unless there is a better place when I return.
I'm officially moving to the land of gelatto, pizza, and less pretentious women. The women were average sized, like me, and did not make me feel bad about the huge ass I have developped since arriving in France. Granted, I don't know how much of this weight is weight and not muscle. My legs are pretty stiff and I think it's from the stairs. Adrienne thinks it should have toned me down. I don't know if stairs do that but I imagine it wouldn't be as firm... I can't wait to get back to Palladium and be a real human being again.
On another note, our tour guide said something really powerful to us about Rome and world history. He said "Please do not think that this is just the history of Rome. There is no ethnic Roman. This is the history of the world. This is your history. You are all Romans." I thought this was really striking and it made me feel really connected to all the things I was seeing and made me understand the values of modern states and governments.
So go see your history. Maybe by the time you do, I'll have moved to Italy and you'll be able to stay with me and we can eat gelatto and I can live in a world that will probably only exist in my imagination.
I can't wait to leave France.
1. Pizza
2. Old shit just hanging all around the city (i.e. the Colloseum, Constantine's Arc, the Forum, and other things that I can't remember but photos will prove they exist)
3. Gelatto
4. Italian people in general.
5. The weather.
Roma was absolutely beautiful. The weather was perfect and was a much needed escape from all this ridiculous rain and cold and back and forth here in Paris. I think someone needs to decide if it's winter yet because I can't deal with these random bursts of 60 degree days and then 40 degree days and 30 degree mornings. One complaint I have about Rome - more than any other city I've seen in my brief stint here in Europe - is that there is ENTIRELY TOO MUCH GRAFITTI. Um, hello? Do you realize how important your city is? Please stop drawing shit all over it and defacing its beauty. Punks.
Adrienne and I started our day with delicious pasta. I won't tell you my food was amazing at every restaurant we ate at because that would be a blantant lie. But, it was cheap, and the two amazing meals and all the desserts outweigh the crappy pasta I had for my last meal there. I freaking love Napoleatano (sp?) style pizza. Anyone going to Rome needs to check out Da Ricci's (or, Est! Est! Est! to the locals) for an authentic meal that everyone in Rome apparently LOVES. Best pizza ever, ever, even better than Two Boots, but I might be the only one who still LOVES Two Boots. The rest of the day became a search for really old shit, as I put it every time, and our reaction was always "How old is that?"
Went to the Vatican, saw the Sistine Chapel, no big deal really... Except that it was and the Vatican is MASSIVE and I actually thought we were going to die Friday night from all the walking. Climbed to the top of St Peter's and really thought death was near... That hike made Sacre Coeur look like a breeze. St Peter's was beautiful and was my second favorite part of the trip, aside from the Coloseo, which was apparently not originally called that, thought I don't remember what they originally called it... Also, the pope was not present so I couldn't say hello, but I totally managed to use the Lord's name in vain at least 20 times. I think Adrienne was ready to hit me.
Seriously, I don't know HOW we did it, but I'm pretty sure we saw everything that most normal people see in Rome and then some. Thank God for my guide book. Also, leave it to me to happen to stumble upon the Jewish quarter in Rome of all places. Yes, it exists. No, I'm not making this up. You don't have to believe me. The square was called Jeruselum Plaza, no joke.
Let's talk about Gelatto. Went to Giolitti, where Audrey Hepburn goes in Roman Holiday, and got a chocolate, pignoli (pine nuts), and coffee gelatto cone and sighed. Hello, Italy, thank you for the gift of the best ice cream ever. The next night I went to Italy's oldest gelatto shop, which was right by my adorable B&B, and had rice, hazenut-chocolate that was not nutella because there were nuts in it, and tiramisu. HEAVENLY. The rice tasted like rice pudding. Who ever decided getting 3 flavors on a cone was a good idea is a genius. A genius. I hope to get to Ossining Pizzeria when I get home for some gelatto, unless there is a better place when I return.
I'm officially moving to the land of gelatto, pizza, and less pretentious women. The women were average sized, like me, and did not make me feel bad about the huge ass I have developped since arriving in France. Granted, I don't know how much of this weight is weight and not muscle. My legs are pretty stiff and I think it's from the stairs. Adrienne thinks it should have toned me down. I don't know if stairs do that but I imagine it wouldn't be as firm... I can't wait to get back to Palladium and be a real human being again.
On another note, our tour guide said something really powerful to us about Rome and world history. He said "Please do not think that this is just the history of Rome. There is no ethnic Roman. This is the history of the world. This is your history. You are all Romans." I thought this was really striking and it made me feel really connected to all the things I was seeing and made me understand the values of modern states and governments.
So go see your history. Maybe by the time you do, I'll have moved to Italy and you'll be able to stay with me and we can eat gelatto and I can live in a world that will probably only exist in my imagination.
I can't wait to leave France.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Grammar
At the beginning of the semester one of my professors told me to think in French. Naturally, I took her advice, but I fear it was the worst advice she could have given a student who is 1. taking a class in English 2. not a French major.
That Vichy paper that I was complaining about, well, I got an A-. No complaints here, but my professor (swoooooooooon) circled all the various issues with my grammar. I need to explain to him that I do not need to be placed in remedial English and that I actually just think in French. Je peux pas écrire en anglais et ça m'énerve énormement. Maintenant, je suis tellement triste parce que je suis inutile avec ma langue propre, et j'ai une accent qui est absolument américain, et aussi je ne comprends rien du tout les choses qui concern l'accord de grammaire. De plus, les français ne me comprenent pas, sauf les jeunes et les ados et mes profs. C'est ridicule et c'est pas juste! Also, Professor Jackson is like 10. I would like very much to find out when he got his PhD because I either want to be him or want to mock him for not having a life after university and going straight to get his doctorate. Either way, I need to figure out what I am doing with my life.
It's funny, because the French have a particular way of speaking English and now I am stuck in the middle of my French and their English and am developing some cracked out hybrid franglais that is not helping anyone. But, I really love when I don't have to think and can just miraculously speak French. That is a beautiful experience and I hope everyone here in Paris has had it.
Aside from all that nonsense, I still need to find another freaking class for my major and finish doing my Vichy reading, which is all about the roots of Anti-Semitism. I am starting to think my obsession with the Jews, Nazism, and racial theory is a serious issue. It shouldn't be so fascinating but it is and for whatever reason it just gets under my skin and I just yearn to understand all of it. Reasons to be a professor: you never stop learning and you never stop feeling inspired.
I have a lot of work to get done before I leave this weekend and I imagine I CANNOT go out until I go to Rome. Also, I am breaching on broke and should start my holiday shopping. Everyone is getting little Eiffel Towers, sorry. I'm cheap and this country is killing my wallet.
I should end this with some kind of announcement like I normally do, so I will end it how I ended my paper, with hopes that someone understands the reference - and if you want to read the paper I'll send it to you too.
"Germany is always the soldier and France is always the peasant."
That Vichy paper that I was complaining about, well, I got an A-. No complaints here, but my professor (swoooooooooon) circled all the various issues with my grammar. I need to explain to him that I do not need to be placed in remedial English and that I actually just think in French. Je peux pas écrire en anglais et ça m'énerve énormement. Maintenant, je suis tellement triste parce que je suis inutile avec ma langue propre, et j'ai une accent qui est absolument américain, et aussi je ne comprends rien du tout les choses qui concern l'accord de grammaire. De plus, les français ne me comprenent pas, sauf les jeunes et les ados et mes profs. C'est ridicule et c'est pas juste! Also, Professor Jackson is like 10. I would like very much to find out when he got his PhD because I either want to be him or want to mock him for not having a life after university and going straight to get his doctorate. Either way, I need to figure out what I am doing with my life.
It's funny, because the French have a particular way of speaking English and now I am stuck in the middle of my French and their English and am developing some cracked out hybrid franglais that is not helping anyone. But, I really love when I don't have to think and can just miraculously speak French. That is a beautiful experience and I hope everyone here in Paris has had it.
Aside from all that nonsense, I still need to find another freaking class for my major and finish doing my Vichy reading, which is all about the roots of Anti-Semitism. I am starting to think my obsession with the Jews, Nazism, and racial theory is a serious issue. It shouldn't be so fascinating but it is and for whatever reason it just gets under my skin and I just yearn to understand all of it. Reasons to be a professor: you never stop learning and you never stop feeling inspired.
I have a lot of work to get done before I leave this weekend and I imagine I CANNOT go out until I go to Rome. Also, I am breaching on broke and should start my holiday shopping. Everyone is getting little Eiffel Towers, sorry. I'm cheap and this country is killing my wallet.
I should end this with some kind of announcement like I normally do, so I will end it how I ended my paper, with hopes that someone understands the reference - and if you want to read the paper I'll send it to you too.
"Germany is always the soldier and France is always the peasant."
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Les Temps: Comment est-ce qu'il peut faire 15*C aujourd'hui?
Ok, France, let me in on your little secret. How the hell has it been so beautiful the past couple days?
Aside from the perpetual down pour yesterday, which limited me to my bed and watching the Simpsons dubbed in French (stay away, it's not entertaining), this weekend has been sunny and warm. And like 60 degrees fahrenheit. Oh and today I didn't need a winter coat or gloves. What is going on in this country? Everyone tells me that it's because of the different climate, which is obviously the most scientific answer, but it is indeed bizarre. What is most bizarre, however, is how the weather is different at different parts of the city. It's always at least 5-10 degrees warmer in my quartier than it is only 3 km away at the NYU center. My professor asked me if I lived in a "jolly quartier" (how I love this British man), and I supposed I'd have to say yes.
But this morning, I woke up to rain crashing on my window. Within two hours, it stopped and it was sunny. Then it was sunny for 3 hours in the Marais. Then the sun left me and oh wait, it actually gets dark here at 5PM. France, what the hell? You tease me with your spring like weather and then le soleil se couche.
I can't seriously complain, because I got to see so much and do so much that I had yet to do. I strolled on the Promenade Plantée, went to the Bastille, ate Churros, went out for delicious Sangria, went to the top of Sacre Coeur, and today I went to the Memorial de la Shoah - the Holocaust memorial museum in the Marais - and found bagels, but no cream cheese. France, you are trying to kill me.
I found my last name on the Wall of Names and I hope to find information about my family and see if these people are my distant relatives. It seems, through some online research, that my name has changed a few times (Sherbee, Sherba, etc.) so it's possible that they are not really my relatives, or that I am related to a lot more people than I thought I was.
To think, that in this Catholic country, I manage to find an intense passion for Judaic culture and a strong desire to find my family's origins. Take that, France!
Aside from the perpetual down pour yesterday, which limited me to my bed and watching the Simpsons dubbed in French (stay away, it's not entertaining), this weekend has been sunny and warm. And like 60 degrees fahrenheit. Oh and today I didn't need a winter coat or gloves. What is going on in this country? Everyone tells me that it's because of the different climate, which is obviously the most scientific answer, but it is indeed bizarre. What is most bizarre, however, is how the weather is different at different parts of the city. It's always at least 5-10 degrees warmer in my quartier than it is only 3 km away at the NYU center. My professor asked me if I lived in a "jolly quartier" (how I love this British man), and I supposed I'd have to say yes.
But this morning, I woke up to rain crashing on my window. Within two hours, it stopped and it was sunny. Then it was sunny for 3 hours in the Marais. Then the sun left me and oh wait, it actually gets dark here at 5PM. France, what the hell? You tease me with your spring like weather and then le soleil se couche.
I can't seriously complain, because I got to see so much and do so much that I had yet to do. I strolled on the Promenade Plantée, went to the Bastille, ate Churros, went out for delicious Sangria, went to the top of Sacre Coeur, and today I went to the Memorial de la Shoah - the Holocaust memorial museum in the Marais - and found bagels, but no cream cheese. France, you are trying to kill me.
I found my last name on the Wall of Names and I hope to find information about my family and see if these people are my distant relatives. It seems, through some online research, that my name has changed a few times (Sherbee, Sherba, etc.) so it's possible that they are not really my relatives, or that I am related to a lot more people than I thought I was.
To think, that in this Catholic country, I manage to find an intense passion for Judaic culture and a strong desire to find my family's origins. Take that, France!
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