Thankful to be in France

First of all, sigh...



This is just one of the reasons I do not celebrate Christmas, or at least not the gifting part of it, as many of you already know. This kind of behavior is just wrong. What are we, complete barbarians? And for you who did not know that I do not celebrate Christmas (or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or anything else), the other reasons include not being religiously tied to it and never having during my adult life the financial means to participate even if I wanted to. Also, I don't think it says much to give/receive gifts out of societal obligation. I am a year-round gift giver and like making people feel special because I think they are special, not because there is a holiday set aside for it. Oh yeah, my birthday is also on December 27th and I'm sick of competing with the big J. Man for attention. All that being said, do not take this as me being against Christmas. I'm not passing judgement on anyone for their own traditions and, on the contrary, enjoy seeing people be happy about them. And because I live in the western world, I inevitably end up participating in someone's traditions regardless of whether I share them and usually enjoy it. I love looking at Christmas lights, sharing special meals and spending time with people I love.

But I did not come here to impose my beliefs (or non-beliefs as they may be) on you, my dear readers. On the contrary, I came to talk about my recent celebration of Thanksgiving. This is also a holiday that I have mixed feelings about because of the historical implications. An old friend of mine and I used to refer to it as "Give Smallpox to Indigenous Peoples Day" and ranked it next to Columbus Day as being an unabashed celebration of imperialism and genocide. On the other hand, most people do not celebrate this holiday as a symbol of the colonization of the Americas back in the day. As far as I can tell, like Christmas, most people get together with their loved ones, have a nice meal, and reflect on what they are thankful for. This is wonderful.

I had class on Thanksgiving morning and Charlie worked most of the day, so we didn't really get to spend much time together. During the afternoon, I had the privilege of being invited to the home of Souad Asla, the woman who sang back-up and danced for the Hasna el-Becharia concert I attended last month. With the help of my godsent interpreter Lisa, I went to speak with Souad about the work she is doing collecting traditional songs from female singers in Algeria in order to preserve their dying artform. We shared tea, had a lovely conversation, and she gave both Lisa and I some CDs to listen to and invited us to some future events. She also volunteered to put me in contact with some other musicians in the area as well as provide me with some musical texts (if they exist). I can see this as being the beginning of a beautiful friendship and one that will likely help my thesis a lot!

Afterward, Lisa and I hung out at my house for a while before meeting up with some folks for dinner.
My school held an official Thanksgiving feast which was later mocked by the French daily news publication 20 Minutes in a snippet featuring one of my fellow students dressed as a conquistador, blissfully gnawing on a giant turkey leg - genocide and gluttony rolled into one! It was a joke, obviously, but I'm not sure the French commuters who pick up this daily edition will see it the same way. Fortunately, they misidentified the name of my school.

Rough translation: "Event: Americans in Paris celebrate Thanksgiving.
Giving thanks to the Indians and Heaven for having allowed the first pilgrims from England to settle and live on the land in the United States. This is the reason for Thanksgiving, celebrated yesterday by U.S. nationals at the international university campus."

Rather than attending this large-scale affair, however, a few of my classmates and I (Charlie had to work) decided to dine at a kitschy place in the southern limits of Montmartre called Refuge des Fondues. You basically have two choices: meat or cheese fondue. These are served with baskets of bread and sides of niblets including sausage, cheese, cornichons, and other pickled items... oh, and the wine (or orange juice, in my case) is served in baby bottles. I can't remember why this is done - something to do with taxes on glass? - but it is simultaneously hilarious, uncomfortable and a little impractical. You see, I don't think baby bottles are designed for our vast, toothy mouths, making it hard to actually get any liquid out. Most of us just took the nipples off.

Even the door handle is a baby bottle. There is also graffiti everywhere, including a well-drawn depiction on the ceiling of a naked woman on all fours.

From left to right: Alex, Shanna, Christine, Megan, Lisa and Dan. When I took this photo, the smart-alecky restaurant owner, a man in his fifties wearing a Metallica t-shirt, yelled, "Pas foto!" which I ignored. He was quite the character and constantly gave people crap. He seemed to have it out for Lisa in particular, perhaps because she is Parisian? We didn't really know.

Megan, Lisa and Dan contemplate their drinking vessels.

O.J. the old-fashioned way

Heart-stopping goodness

Once we had had our fill of liquid cheese, the owner abruptly kicked us out to make way for other guests. We weren't done hanging out so we decided to get a drink somewhere. My neighborhood was nearby and I knew of a few establishments there, so I suggested we head that way. Shamefully, I got lost in my own neighborhood, asking for directions twice, and led my poor freezing classmates on a meandering adventure. We eventually found ourselves at a Brazilian restaurant just two blocks from my apartment. We once again stayed until the restaurant's closing forced us out.

Damn foreigners anyway

All in all, it was a great way to celebrate Thanksgiving even if it wasn't traditional. I was thankful for living in a beautiful city and being in good company, and that was all that really mattered.

Read, write, cook, BIKE!

Since I last filled you all in on our goings on here in gay Paree, one big important thing has happened: Charlie graduated from Basic Cuisine!!! The long hours in stressful classes have paid off (at least 1/3 of the way) and he proved to be a good enough chef to be allowed to move on to Intermediate Cuisine. He is now on his holiday break, or would be if he hadn't scored a chef's assistant position at his school for the next 6 weeks. So far, from what I understand, the big chefs are impressed with his work.

As for little ol' me, things are the same. My semester ends in a month and I have a large paper due every week from now until then and a final exam at the end of it all. I'm not too stressed about the writing, but I haven't exactly begun yet either. In fact, I still haven't chosen a topic for one of the papers. I'll get there. Mostly the exam is the scary part because I'm expected to pull all this theoretical stuff out of my brain on cue and in essay form, stuff which has not necessarily made it into my brain over the course of the semester. I don't think I'll fail (I better damn well not!) but I don't expect to wow anyone. I'll let you know how it goes...

Where non-school life is concerned, things are going pretty well. My French is still pathetic, although I learn new words every day, often thanks to my cheese lady, and have been practicing everywhere I go. I have even managed to make a couple of phone calls in French, which is no small feat. When I am out and about, I read signs and try to figure out what they mean and think about how to pronounce them. If there aren't too many people around I will just read things out loud. I'm sure people think I'm insane.

The last couple of weeks it has been getting colder here in Paris. The leaves are falling and we have had a few downright crappy, stormy days. You know, the kind that turn your umbrella inside out. This has happened to me repeatedly, in fact, and every time it makes me regret using an umbrella. I'm used to the more conventional hoodie method, but the rain here is not like Seattle's wimpy mist - it's REAL and will soak you to the core. It is also starting to look Christmas-y around here and from what I have seen so far, Europe is great at decorating for Christmas. There are beautiful light displays everywhere. I'm not talking about just hanging lights up randomly. They actually have giant lit-up, color/pattern-changing structures lining buildings, complex sparkly sculptures strung across streets and ridiculously elaborate shop window displays. The other day I walked out of class to find the Eiffel Tower being overrun by thousands of ants made of white light. It is absolutely gorgeous everywhere.

Along with trying to manage school work, I have also been attempting to take better care of myself mentally and physically so that I don't end up getting sick or having a nervous breakdown which, in the past, has been my college life pattern. As a result, I took up biking this week. And when I say "took up" that means I've done it more than once... thrice, to be exact. It's wonderful and I will try to keep doing it. It's a great way for me to get around considering the chronic ankle issue I have and I can check out and return rental bikes anywhere in the city. It's a little scary to ride in traffic, especially since I don't have a helmet yet, but there are plenty of parks to ride in too.

Anyway, as a result, the first chance I got I dragged Charlie out to ride bikes with me at the Bois de Bologne on the western limits of the city. It was a giant pain in the ass to get there and took me forever to figure out how to rent a bike, but once we got there it was great. As usual, I cooed at the animals while Charlie smoked. We both froze our asses off. Good times!

Here is the photographic/video evidence of the affair:

Arboreal vanity

Autumnmnmn

Hoodlum

Some crayfish die of natural causes.

It is not at all unusual to see people sucking face all over Paris, and parks are no exception. I think this statue was installed precisely to encourage such lascivious behavior. There are rumors about the goings-on in this park after dark too.

Taller than you.

And finally....

You want me to blog?!?!

Fine, I'm writing a damn blog, but I'll have you know that I am taking precious time out of my rigorous research schedule just to entertain you. I hope you appreciate it.

There have been two fun occurrences in the last month that are worth mentioning. The first is that I went to a concert of and got to meet Hasna el Becharia, an Algerian Gnawa singer and guembri player who is one of my idols. The show was great and she was a gracious interviewee, despite not being told beforehand that anyone was coming to interview her.

The other fun event was, you guessed it, food-related. Charlie and I had lunch at Café Constant in the Eiffel Tower neighborhood. Our appetizer was endive soup with scallops and it was to die for, of course.

My entree: Langostine en papillote with basmati rice

Cha's entree: Quail with lentils

Waiting for the bus back home (a.k.a. the study den):

Cha is spying on me.

Sun and Seine

Cha is unsure.

That's better.

Today we desperately attempted to have some fun by visiting the Musée d'Histoire de la Médicine, located in one of the buildings belonging to the University of Paris medical school. Unfortunately, the slacker in charge of opening the museum in the timely manner did not show, much to our own dismay, as well as to half a dozen other people. Oh well, the building itself was kind of interesting. It would be worth going back someday... after calling ahead.

Dramatic scenes like this one and countless busts and statues line the walls.

A fancy hall with a penis-wielding statue in the distance

Kid in a candy store

Fun with macabre sculptures!

But really, it was a nice sculpture.

And now, for two illustrations of just how busy, overwhelmed and uncreative we are capable of being at the moment:

Now I expect all of my readers to do me the favor of reading my schoolbooks and writing coherent reports thereafter. Thank you and goodnight.