Saturday I met up with Tony after his Germany lesson to grab some dinner. We were supposed to go see this Rite of Spring at the Pompidou Center, but some friends had gone the night before and warned us that it was not the ballet we were all expecting, but rather some performance artist’s interpretive dance/conducting to a recording, so we didn’t feel too badly about avoided that. Instead, we met up with Gracie, Patrick, Garret and their friends Emily and Trudy to go back up to Oberkampf. That neighborhood is starting to become a weekend spot for us.
One thing I’ve noticed while out among the nightlife in this city is that all the music that gets played is American or at least in English. We went through The Cure, Mika, Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Gwen Stefani, The Strokes, and Franz Ferdinand, a voyage through two decades, but there wasn’t a single French artist to be found. The closest I’ve come yet has been Daft Punk, but they sing in English. The government evidently noticed this too, a while back, and mandated that all radio stations have to fill something like at least 40% of their playtime with French language music. Even then, most of that ends up being Canadian artists. So lesson: quotas fighting American cultural hegemony don’t work because you can’t regulate tastes.
This morning I had probably the easiest French test I’ve ever taken. Conditionnel, futur simple, and un peu de temps. After class I met up with Delphine and Clarissa to search out this small Indian district up in the 10th (N.E. Paris). It was a tiny little street, almost an alley, full of Indian restaurants and grocers. I was finally able to find some well-spiced curry for the first time over here, asking for it plus épicé. A really terrific meal. One thing I love about Evanston is having numerous Thai, Indian, and pan-Asian place within a few block of the apartment.
We then trekked a ways southeast to Pèrre Lachaise Cemetery, the most famous in Paris. Among its notable residents are Jim Morrison, Chopin, Molière, Sara Bernhardt, and Oscar Wilde, as well as several leaders of the country. Flowers are still regularly left on these graves and the cemetery was full of visitors looking for these notable deceased. Oscar Wilde’s grave is a particular standout. The large stone, with vaguely art deco-ish carvings, is covered in notes, quotes, and hundreds of kisses left in pink lipstick. A grand gesture rather fitting Wilde’s flamboyant persona, it has become tradition for women (and I’m sure more than a few men) admirers to leave these in tribute.
Later in the evening, I attended a live television taping at the Canal+ studio, a popular news/talkshow called Le Grand Journal. After an extensive security procedure, we were strategically seated to balance out color, and then led through the ropes of applauding. The guests on this edition Jean-Pierre Raffarin (ex-Prime Minister under Jacques Chirac), an activist for the poor, Marc Lavoine (singer/actor), and part of the French rugby team including Frédéric Michalak. I occasionally lost the thread of discussion, especially when the activist and Raffarin started yelling at one another over whether the government or associations did a better job protecting the poor, but it was quite interesting to watch and see how the show itself was produced as well. So I can now say (stretching) I’ve been on French television. You could definitely see me in the backgroud in some shots.
It looks like I’ll be heading off for a few days in Italy next week, spending one day in Milan and a few in Rome during the Toussaint Holidays. So now that I think I have my time frame lined up, I need to go to the train station tomorrow to get tickets booked, so I can then book accommodations. Once those are all set, I will be able to breathe again.
I'm taking advantage of this small breathing space in my workload before it starts piling up again. Having finished off the Sallinger, I started Howard's End (say it fast, it sounds like Howard Zinn), which, once done, I think will leave me only two books from my supply I haven't finished. And a month and a half. One of my better packing jobs. Also, looking at these pictures, I'm getting badly in need of a haircut. It's been almost two months, which is a long time for my hair.
Credit for this week's quotation goes to Oscar Wilde.
