Last night, my hostess had over some friends to watch the rugby world cup semi-final, England against France. This competition has been a big deal this year, bigger than usual, because the games are being hosted in Paris. A few weeks back, I watched a match on the screens outside the Hôtel de Ville (the city hall) and it resembled Times Square on New Year’s Eve a bit. This England-France match was close for its better part, until England pulled ahead in the last ten minutes. They extended their lead and then held the French at bay through the end. France was eliminated from the finals. The reaction from the assembled hosts and neighbors was unexpectedly large. Lots of yelling at the television, cursing the English. And perhaps, most unexpectedly, lots of reference to Joan of Arc. It was like – hey, history! It’s funny, the place that comes back into play.
Last Saturday was the Nuit Blanche, a fall festival of sorts. We began the evening with a birthday party for one of my program friends, hosted at the apartment of one of the French students. Pizza, France beating New Zealand in the quarter-finals, and cake. I ended up bailing on plans to meet Tony and Gracie to go back to Le Showcase because I just didn’t have the energy for something so late that night, and instead stayed with the program group to check out the Nuit Blanche festivities. Along our path we found an actor recreating some speech from a balcony about the libraries, crowds everywhere in the streets, the plaza at the Louvre crowded for an event that remains a mystery, and the Tuilleries filled with fire. Pots of flame lines the walkways, frame sculptures hung with jars of flame sat throughout, there were tubes that occasionally shot flame to the sky. You would think packing people into an area of so much open flame would be a bad idea, but I didn’t actually see anyone on fire. We made it though, watched some of our companions ride the Ferris wheel at Place de la Concorde, and then called it a night, just in time to catch the last metro back. This night began a bizarre week of coincidental meetings. In the Tuilleries we managed to run into several of our program members amongst the crowds and then on the metro I ended up in a car with a friend of Tony’s girlfriend. Sunday was then used to take care of readings and presentation assembling.
This last week has been, if not uneventful, at least low key. Monday, we spent French class conducting a scavenger hunt in the Marais, the city’s Jewish quarter. Just lots of running around finding names of famous museums and cafes and figuring out the purposes of different tubes on the side of the Centre Pompidou. Really terrific falafel for lunch after. After the rest of my classes that afternoon, I sent Priyanka a text about trying to get together sometime soon. On the metro, returning home, who should enter my car at Monteparnasse, but Priyanka? We wandered around our neighborhood for a bit, figuring out finally how all these streets lined up and grabbed an afternoon snack. The afternoon snack, I have discovered, is essential. Meal portions are small and it’s impossible to go from a noon lunch to an eight or nine o’clock dinner without one. The French seem to have an obsession with carbs (a topic that came up in French class last week, noting that they’re also dismissive of protein and fruit), and somehow all that bread just isn’t filling for long enough.
Tuesday was our Czech Republic presentation, of which all that is essential is that the spectre of Russia and the inspiration of Vaclav Havel pretty much shape the entirety of Czech-EU relations. That evening I met up with John to see this French film about the Algerian War that had interesting-looking posters, L’enemie Intime. It was well done and, not knowing all that much about the war, served as a good bit of history too. Several elements of the war’s methodology and tactics reminded a lot of Vietnam. From what I could tell, it has a similar psychological place for the nation as well. Wednesday and Thursday were more class, with some naps, as I found myself exhausted midweek. Thursday after class, walking around with John and Jonas, I ran into Priyanka, again, out exploring with Dartmouth people.
Friday we ended up with no trips, as there are no reform Mosques and Friday prayer times aren’t really conducive to group visits. In the evening I met up with Tony, Garret, and Freya to explore the area up around Oberkampf, which was supposed to have a bit of a Village-y atmosphere. I wouldn’t say it did, but it was still fun and we finally found good-ish music on the third or fourth try. Wandered back south and ran, yet again, into Priyanka and friends, who had been looking for Oberkampf, unsuccessfully until that point. We will have to actually get our friends together someplace that isn’t the middle of the street. Tony and Garret were hungry to we ended up back off of Rue de Temple at the one open creperie and then walked down and sat in the plaza outside of the Pompidou. The conversation soon wandered to politics, I think my fault when I mentioned Al Gore’s Nobel Peace Prize co-win, which prompted a discussion of whether political figures can be legitimate front men for scientific topics, then moving to international news, looking at why the Armenian genocide bill was causing hubbub, to the philosophy questions raised by torture in Iraq, and finally to the presidential race. At this point I think I ended up going on for about forty-five minutes as we headed off in search of the noctillion busses, overshot our destination to the Louvre, and circled back to Chatelet. This is what I get for having half a dozen different election podcasts in my subscription list. We managed to get Freya onto her bus, but then Tony couldn’t figure out how to get back, so I split a cab with him, after crossing back over the Left Bank to find one that would actually go south.
Saturday was Salinger, class reading, and the rugby match, and then today has mostly been spent preparing for another midterm. It’ll be the last one for France and the EU, so that’s an upside at least. Only I’ll have to write another on Tuesday for Law- and Decision-Making in the EU. But classes have been going well.
I think that’s about it. Let’s see if Glen Gould and the Goldberg Variations will help me concentrate through the remainder of this chapter. Sorry this installment has been so unillustrated. I've been forgetting my camera when things get intersesting.
Night.
The quotation is Twain's, by the way.
