Queen - "Living on My Own"
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Dia duit!
Last night started out boring. We went to a "Parismus" party at some bar, which is supposed to be for French students to meet Erasmus (European international exchange program) students, and then American students can come, too. We all had to write our names in and put them in a box and then pick a name and find that person. Vaune picked Jesùs, which brought us endless amusement. Eventually Vaune saw a guy with her name stuck to his chest, so we made a fun British friend named Jack. I met a girl who had the same name as the name I drew from the box, but it wasn't her handwriting. But I gave her my email address anyway because she wanted to practice her English.
It was lame so we headed home. We got on the Métro and took it to Châtelet-Les Halles, but then got a text message from Alan. Alan is an Irish guy we met the first day we were here. We keep trying to make plans with him and then flaking out b/c we are poor and exhausted. But last night he was at a pub with his friend Eamon, and Vaune and Jen (who is hereby known as Jenny when she is drunk) and I just hopped the Métro back to Bastille (Jen and Vaune and I all got stuck in turnstiles at least once throughout the evening). We didn't have much time until the last train, but Jen got a beer and Vaune and I split a drink and we had a really good time hanging out with our new Irish friend and his Irish friend (who is staying in Brussels and was visiting. We learned some Gaelic (which he called "speaking Irish"): "Dia duit." It means "God be with you" and does not sound like it looks.
The moral of this story is that hanging out with Irish friends in a pub is relaxing and fun.
I leave you with this stolen except from Vaune's blog, because it's funny and there is no point in my re-writing it if she already did:
It was lame so we headed home. We got on the Métro and took it to Châtelet-Les Halles, but then got a text message from Alan. Alan is an Irish guy we met the first day we were here. We keep trying to make plans with him and then flaking out b/c we are poor and exhausted. But last night he was at a pub with his friend Eamon, and Vaune and Jen (who is hereby known as Jenny when she is drunk) and I just hopped the Métro back to Bastille (Jen and Vaune and I all got stuck in turnstiles at least once throughout the evening). We didn't have much time until the last train, but Jen got a beer and Vaune and I split a drink and we had a really good time hanging out with our new Irish friend and his Irish friend (who is staying in Brussels and was visiting. We learned some Gaelic (which he called "speaking Irish"): "Dia duit." It means "God be with you" and does not sound like it looks.
The moral of this story is that hanging out with Irish friends in a pub is relaxing and fun.
I leave you with this stolen except from Vaune's blog, because it's funny and there is no point in my re-writing it if she already did:
"On the way home, Bobbie and I were trying to explain to Jen our annoyance at the French habit of STARING. I swear, you can't wear a bleedin' tank top here without eliciting undisguised gaping from, well, everyone. (According to Scott, nothing larger than a B cup exists in France, which should explain that. Also, French women dress very discreetly, and I'm of the opinion that this combination of layered clothing and no deodorant explains a lot about the bodily odors here). Also, speaking loud, rapidfire English draws some attention. But good God! Even when you're sitting there, having iMetro time, keeping your mouth shut and your jacket closed, the natives just. Stare. You. Down.
In a perfect display of this behavior, the creepazoid man next to Bobbie turned to ogle her, almost on cue to our discussion. It was made even better because he had a hairline receded about to where most women would wear a ponytail, and he had gelled up the remaining hair--which consisted of BLOND RINGLETS--into a Queen Amidala-esque balloon around his skull.
Once he got off at his stop, the three of us turned and stared dramatically out the window at the guy, just to give him a taste of his own skeeviness. Lo and behold, he was staring right back, rapt at attention. Jesus. We nearly died laughing."
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Locked out... again.
Yesterday morning was… interesting.
I woke up (after nightmares about Hurricane Katrina – not fun) and wanted to take a shower, because I hate the way I feel when I wake up, all sleepy and gross. A morning shower is to me what a morning cup of coffee is to many people. So I wrap my towel around myself, grab my shower caddy, and step out into the hall. The instant I close my door, I realize I have left my key inside. Our keys are VingCards, so the door locks automatically when you close it (which I hate anyway). So I was stuck. In the hallway. In my towel.
I knocked on all of my friends’ doors, but no one was home. I saw a guy walking toward the showers, so I followed him (you need your VingCard to get into the showers and bathrooms as well). I figured I might as well pass the time while taking my shower. This turned out to be a bad decision, because then I was stuck wandering the halls in my towel while also being cold and wet. But at least I was clean.
I found a bathroom with a door that was propped open, and thus not locked. I went in, deadbolted it and sat on the floor for a little bit. That got old, so I stepped out. I saw a random girl and asked her to go down to the reception to ask for a key to 306, cause I didn’t want to go down there in my towel. She was very nice, and she went downstairs. I was very relieved.
I was waiting by my door. Several people I didn’t know walked by and said Bonjour. I couldn’t believe that I was meeting people in my towel while locked out of my room. Finally the girl (Morgan) came back – and told me that the reception was closed for lunch. For another hour. I went back to the bathroom.
Eventually that got old again. I wandered around and finally ran into Tessa, a Tulane student. She let me sit in her room, wear her pajamas, and read her book. While she was in the kitchen, Sergio (a visiting friend of hers, who was at CIDEF) knocked on the door. I answered. He was terrified and thought he had knocked on the wrong door and tried to start apologizing. I explained the situation to him – but I really freaked him out. An hour later, I went down and got my key, wearing Vaune’s jacket as well. I got back into my room and put on clothes. Whew.
Today was less eventful – I lazed around, went grocery shopping, and cooked for eight people. I made garlic mashed potatoes with the skins in, and garlic parmesan breaded baked chicken. It was delicious. Everyone liked it. Yay!
I woke up (after nightmares about Hurricane Katrina – not fun) and wanted to take a shower, because I hate the way I feel when I wake up, all sleepy and gross. A morning shower is to me what a morning cup of coffee is to many people. So I wrap my towel around myself, grab my shower caddy, and step out into the hall. The instant I close my door, I realize I have left my key inside. Our keys are VingCards, so the door locks automatically when you close it (which I hate anyway). So I was stuck. In the hallway. In my towel.
I knocked on all of my friends’ doors, but no one was home. I saw a guy walking toward the showers, so I followed him (you need your VingCard to get into the showers and bathrooms as well). I figured I might as well pass the time while taking my shower. This turned out to be a bad decision, because then I was stuck wandering the halls in my towel while also being cold and wet. But at least I was clean.
I found a bathroom with a door that was propped open, and thus not locked. I went in, deadbolted it and sat on the floor for a little bit. That got old, so I stepped out. I saw a random girl and asked her to go down to the reception to ask for a key to 306, cause I didn’t want to go down there in my towel. She was very nice, and she went downstairs. I was very relieved.
I was waiting by my door. Several people I didn’t know walked by and said Bonjour. I couldn’t believe that I was meeting people in my towel while locked out of my room. Finally the girl (Morgan) came back – and told me that the reception was closed for lunch. For another hour. I went back to the bathroom.
Eventually that got old again. I wandered around and finally ran into Tessa, a Tulane student. She let me sit in her room, wear her pajamas, and read her book. While she was in the kitchen, Sergio (a visiting friend of hers, who was at CIDEF) knocked on the door. I answered. He was terrified and thought he had knocked on the wrong door and tried to start apologizing. I explained the situation to him – but I really freaked him out. An hour later, I went down and got my key, wearing Vaune’s jacket as well. I got back into my room and put on clothes. Whew.
Today was less eventful – I lazed around, went grocery shopping, and cooked for eight people. I made garlic mashed potatoes with the skins in, and garlic parmesan breaded baked chicken. It was delicious. Everyone liked it. Yay!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Chance is a funny thing
Yesterday and today have been filled with excitement. Also, it is Thursday, which for me is like Friday, so that is also exciting.
Yesterday morning we had Grammar at Reid Hall at 11 (never fear – soon enough I will write a post describing all of my courses). The professor was calling roll, and when she got to Jessie she asked her if she was the girl who knew Aaron from the other class. Jessie said, “Yeah, I went to high school with him.” At first, I thought that she meant that she hadn’t known he would be there, and had just randomly run into a friend from high school in Paris. It turns out that she did know him – in fact, she’s the one who convinced him to come to France. But I was thinking about it, and I said to Vaune, “Damn, how weird would it be if, while in Paris, you randomly ran into someone you knew from high school?” Then we went back to playing hangman in the back of the classroom.
After class was over, it was time to make a mad (nearly impossible) dash across Paris to Clignancourt, where our Translation course was meeting – we didn’t even know if there would be room for us or not so we wanted to at least get there on time (the way for Tulane students to get into classes at the Sorbonne is to just sort of show up, grab a seat, and protect it with your life - if a registered student tries to claim their right for a seat, clam up and pretend you belong). I also had to pee, so I was running like a madwoman. I ran into the hallway in Reid Hall, saw Aurora Kurland, kept running. Stopped. Did a double take. What is Aurora Kurland doing in the hallway of Reid Hall, many miles from Bowdoin and Lexington?
So, for the record, yes - It is VERY WEIRD to randomly run into someone from high school when you are in Paris and not expecting to see them. Especially if, only one hour before, you were talking about just such a situation. I’m still trying to come to terms with the complete coincidence.
For reference (Aurora is on the left):
So then we went to our translation class. The first hour is French to English translation. We translated an excerpt of Camus. It was wildly easy, and entertaining. The professor kept checking with us to make sure that ça se dit. Once it appeared that we were in fact below the legal number of students allowed in the classroom, she was absolutely delighted to have les native speakers in her class, although she kept getting embarrassed when she used Briticisms and we just shrugged and used American phrases. Relax, lady! You’re the professor – you are smarter than we are. We just happen to have grown up in the States, by no fault of our own.
The second hour was slightly less easy, but still riveting. Of course, we switched from translating four sentences of very simply structured Camus to translating two paragraphs of John Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga, which is slightly more difficult. How exactly does one translate, “Life took on a subtle, purposeless meaning, became a bunch of flavours tasted, a darkness shot with shifting gleams of light,” into French? But she was very patient and encouraging with us and never once tried to speak to us in English. She seemed strict, and proper, but a good teacher. And we already have homework.
We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so we got sandwiches. I came home and had yet another bowl of muesli and yogurt, my current staple food. It is delicious. It was early bedtime, because we were leaving at 6:30 this morning.
So this morning I got up at 5:30 and showered and got dressed and met Vaune downstairs. We were prepared for the insane sardine-like Métro ride that we had encountered at 8 AM on Tuesday morning. We vowed that next time we would leave an hour and a half before our desired arrival time, because we barely made it to Swedish on Tuesday. So, since our TD (travail dirigé – we have a giant lecture and then a “smaller” discussion group type thing, similar to recitations at Tufts) for Grammar and History of Language was at 8 AM, we left, logically, at 6:30 AM. However, there was no one on the Métro. We got there at 7 AM. So we sat in the subway for an hour, writing in our journals.
The class was great. The title of Grammar (synchronic section of the course) is, to me, somewhat misleading, although I guess it makes sense. It seems to me more like descriptive linguistics, but it is true that it deals (for now) mostly with syntax, morphology, and semantics. There is also phonetics. And then the History of Language (diachronic section of the course) part seems like it’s going to be really exciting, too. It’s just what I am interested in.
The rest of today has been pretty normal. We had Swedish, and now we are home. Jessie is making chili tonight. I have volunteered to cook on Saturday – I hope to make garlic mashed potatoes and garlic/parmesan baked chicken breasts. I hope that’s not too ambitious. And I hope I can substitute potato types. I have so much to learn!
To finish off, I am going to borrow a term coined by Erin and an idea borrowed from Vaune, and begin sharing with you my iMétro Tunes of the Day. This morning, I was mostly concerned with listening to music that would wake me up, and I found the perfect caffeinated melody in the Scissor Sisters' "Ooh." Enjoy. And I am being completely honest when I tell you that I did not even know that that music video was based around kids listening to iPods on a train before I went to Youtube to find a link to it so you all could listen. It's karmic. Click play - it's a catchy song.
Yesterday morning we had Grammar at Reid Hall at 11 (never fear – soon enough I will write a post describing all of my courses). The professor was calling roll, and when she got to Jessie she asked her if she was the girl who knew Aaron from the other class. Jessie said, “Yeah, I went to high school with him.” At first, I thought that she meant that she hadn’t known he would be there, and had just randomly run into a friend from high school in Paris. It turns out that she did know him – in fact, she’s the one who convinced him to come to France. But I was thinking about it, and I said to Vaune, “Damn, how weird would it be if, while in Paris, you randomly ran into someone you knew from high school?” Then we went back to playing hangman in the back of the classroom.
After class was over, it was time to make a mad (nearly impossible) dash across Paris to Clignancourt, where our Translation course was meeting – we didn’t even know if there would be room for us or not so we wanted to at least get there on time (the way for Tulane students to get into classes at the Sorbonne is to just sort of show up, grab a seat, and protect it with your life - if a registered student tries to claim their right for a seat, clam up and pretend you belong). I also had to pee, so I was running like a madwoman. I ran into the hallway in Reid Hall, saw Aurora Kurland, kept running. Stopped. Did a double take. What is Aurora Kurland doing in the hallway of Reid Hall, many miles from Bowdoin and Lexington?
So, for the record, yes - It is VERY WEIRD to randomly run into someone from high school when you are in Paris and not expecting to see them. Especially if, only one hour before, you were talking about just such a situation. I’m still trying to come to terms with the complete coincidence.
For reference (Aurora is on the left):
So then we went to our translation class. The first hour is French to English translation. We translated an excerpt of Camus. It was wildly easy, and entertaining. The professor kept checking with us to make sure that ça se dit. Once it appeared that we were in fact below the legal number of students allowed in the classroom, she was absolutely delighted to have les native speakers in her class, although she kept getting embarrassed when she used Briticisms and we just shrugged and used American phrases. Relax, lady! You’re the professor – you are smarter than we are. We just happen to have grown up in the States, by no fault of our own.
The second hour was slightly less easy, but still riveting. Of course, we switched from translating four sentences of very simply structured Camus to translating two paragraphs of John Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga, which is slightly more difficult. How exactly does one translate, “Life took on a subtle, purposeless meaning, became a bunch of flavours tasted, a darkness shot with shifting gleams of light,” into French? But she was very patient and encouraging with us and never once tried to speak to us in English. She seemed strict, and proper, but a good teacher. And we already have homework.
We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so we got sandwiches. I came home and had yet another bowl of muesli and yogurt, my current staple food. It is delicious. It was early bedtime, because we were leaving at 6:30 this morning.
So this morning I got up at 5:30 and showered and got dressed and met Vaune downstairs. We were prepared for the insane sardine-like Métro ride that we had encountered at 8 AM on Tuesday morning. We vowed that next time we would leave an hour and a half before our desired arrival time, because we barely made it to Swedish on Tuesday. So, since our TD (travail dirigé – we have a giant lecture and then a “smaller” discussion group type thing, similar to recitations at Tufts) for Grammar and History of Language was at 8 AM, we left, logically, at 6:30 AM. However, there was no one on the Métro. We got there at 7 AM. So we sat in the subway for an hour, writing in our journals.
The class was great. The title of Grammar (synchronic section of the course) is, to me, somewhat misleading, although I guess it makes sense. It seems to me more like descriptive linguistics, but it is true that it deals (for now) mostly with syntax, morphology, and semantics. There is also phonetics. And then the History of Language (diachronic section of the course) part seems like it’s going to be really exciting, too. It’s just what I am interested in.
The rest of today has been pretty normal. We had Swedish, and now we are home. Jessie is making chili tonight. I have volunteered to cook on Saturday – I hope to make garlic mashed potatoes and garlic/parmesan baked chicken breasts. I hope that’s not too ambitious. And I hope I can substitute potato types. I have so much to learn!
To finish off, I am going to borrow a term coined by Erin and an idea borrowed from Vaune, and begin sharing with you my iMétro Tunes of the Day. This morning, I was mostly concerned with listening to music that would wake me up, and I found the perfect caffeinated melody in the Scissor Sisters' "Ooh." Enjoy. And I am being completely honest when I tell you that I did not even know that that music video was based around kids listening to iPods on a train before I went to Youtube to find a link to it so you all could listen. It's karmic. Click play - it's a catchy song.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Anchored down in Anchorage
Yesterday was our last day with Chris. We lazed around for a bit and then went to the Champs-Elysées. Chris was under the mistaken impression that we were actually going to a field. I don’t know how you could not know that the Champs-Elysées is an avenue, but apparently he didn’t. So we took the Métro and walked down the street. We passed a Haagen-Dasz, and also the McDonald’s where we saw employees on strike the first time I ever walked down the Champs-Elysées, five years ago.
Eventually we got to the Etoile, and the Arc de Triomphe.
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
It was only 5€ to go up if you are between the ages of 18 and 25, so we walked up the Arc de Triomphe. It was beautiful. I took a picture for Dad, a copy of the same one he took of me the last time I went up the Arc de Triomphe.
Delightful photo from 2004
Photo from yesterday
Yikes, look at that smog line
With the Eiffel Tower in the background
The stairs down
After getting back down
After that we took the Métro over to Montmartre, although we were too tired to go up to the Sacré Cœur. Instead, we got pizza and Haagen-Dasz. Mmm. Then we went back, and took Chris to the train station. We were dead tired and Vaune and I parted for the evening.
This morning was administrative-stuff-morning. We first went over to BNP Paribas and opened bank accounts. It was very easy, and free. We should have our cards next week. Next we went to the post office and got money orders for a painfully large amount of money in order to send away for our Cartes Imagine R – year long Métro/RER/tram/bus passes. They are worth the money, but it’s hard to remember that now as I eat muesli for the rest of the month. Then we went grocery shopping and came home yet again, and I am currently basking in the glory of my iTunes gift certificate from one Margaret Beyer.
Eventually we got to the Etoile, and the Arc de Triomphe.
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
It was only 5€ to go up if you are between the ages of 18 and 25, so we walked up the Arc de Triomphe. It was beautiful. I took a picture for Dad, a copy of the same one he took of me the last time I went up the Arc de Triomphe.
Delightful photo from 2004
Photo from yesterday
Yikes, look at that smog line
With the Eiffel Tower in the background
The stairs down
After getting back down
After that we took the Métro over to Montmartre, although we were too tired to go up to the Sacré Cœur. Instead, we got pizza and Haagen-Dasz. Mmm. Then we went back, and took Chris to the train station. We were dead tired and Vaune and I parted for the evening.
This morning was administrative-stuff-morning. We first went over to BNP Paribas and opened bank accounts. It was very easy, and free. We should have our cards next week. Next we went to the post office and got money orders for a painfully large amount of money in order to send away for our Cartes Imagine R – year long Métro/RER/tram/bus passes. They are worth the money, but it’s hard to remember that now as I eat muesli for the rest of the month. Then we went grocery shopping and came home yet again, and I am currently basking in the glory of my iTunes gift certificate from one Margaret Beyer.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Tour Eiffel
Well we did go to the Eiffel Tower, but we didn’t go up. The line was too long. Instead we took a lot of pictures, and were accosted by several Bosnian women with postcards written in English saying they had leukemia. After the first one we pretended to be German, but one of them walked up while we were taking a picture and just stood next to us and stared at the camera. It’s a very strange photograph.
Close-up
Chris and Vaune saluting the Eiffel Tower
Vaune and I - sans creepy woman
Handstand number one
Giving birth to the Tour Eiffel
Vaune taught me how to do a handstand, and I actually did it! The only pictures I have are of when I was coming down, because Chris is not as accustomed to taking handstand pictures as I am, but one of them is pretty awesome, as my legs are at a perfect perpendicular angle. It was pretty cool.
After that we walked over to “Rugby Town,” a big tent set up with lots of rugby stuff. Eh. But we walked out of it right onto Trocadéro, with fountains and artistics roosters and all.
Oops
We lazed about there for quite some time.
Finally we came home. I had some red spots on my arms and wasn’t feeling very well, so I took some Benadryl. Chris and I went out and got some onions and some dessert, and then I made vegetable soup w/ the onion and the leftover veggies from last night. It was great. Unfortunately, afterwards I felt very sick, and still do, which is why I am here blogging instead of out w/ Chris and Vaune doing Nuits Blanches – an all night art event all over Paris. I am sad to miss it but I feel very sick and would have been miserable and would have made them miserable by complaining.
Well, that’s all. Hopefully I will fall asleep soon.
Close-up
Chris and Vaune saluting the Eiffel Tower
Vaune and I - sans creepy woman
Handstand number one
Giving birth to the Tour Eiffel
Vaune taught me how to do a handstand, and I actually did it! The only pictures I have are of when I was coming down, because Chris is not as accustomed to taking handstand pictures as I am, but one of them is pretty awesome, as my legs are at a perfect perpendicular angle. It was pretty cool.
After that we walked over to “Rugby Town,” a big tent set up with lots of rugby stuff. Eh. But we walked out of it right onto Trocadéro, with fountains and artistics roosters and all.
Oops
We lazed about there for quite some time.
Finally we came home. I had some red spots on my arms and wasn’t feeling very well, so I took some Benadryl. Chris and I went out and got some onions and some dessert, and then I made vegetable soup w/ the onion and the leftover veggies from last night. It was great. Unfortunately, afterwards I felt very sick, and still do, which is why I am here blogging instead of out w/ Chris and Vaune doing Nuits Blanches – an all night art event all over Paris. I am sad to miss it but I feel very sick and would have been miserable and would have made them miserable by complaining.
Well, that’s all. Hopefully I will fall asleep soon.
Long weekend
Yesterday morning was excruciatingly boring, and frustrating.
Our fridge was scheduled to arrive between 8 AM and 1 PM. Chris was also supposed to wake up at some point, buy a train ticket, and tell me what time he was getting in so that Vaune and I could go pick him up at la Gare Montparnasse. This was fine for a while… I lounged around, watched The Office, etc. Eventually Vaune went out to buy groceries for dinner. I kept waiting. Around 11, the fridge guy called and said he’d be there in 20 minutes. An hour later, I called him. He said they’d been held up but they were on their way. Another hour and a half later (keep in mind this is after 1 PM now) they finally got there. They were nice, but I was unsure of French tipping practices in this situation, out of cash, and unhappy with this particular wait, so I didn’t tip them. Especially because I was making corn chowder for dinner – so Vaune had dropped off, among other things : milk, heavy cream, and cream cheese, which had been waiting in my room for about an hour and had to sit in the fridge for another hour before it got cold, which made me nervous, though all was fine.
Stocked fridge
I went out to get some more groceries, and ran into Erin, which was fun. I went back and dropped off my groceries in the new fridge, and then took the RER and Métro to Montparnasse, where I navigated the station to find Chris and Vaune, and then we swam back through crowds of people to get back on the Métro. Once we got back, we sat around for a bit and then I started making dinner. We were all very excited for this – it’s been a long time since any of us has had any good food that wasn’t prepared in a restaurant. Well, except for Chris. But Vaune and I were excited. And I enjoy cooking and was looking forward to creating something. So I chopped up a carrot and a stalk of celery, minced some parsley, and sautéed them in butter while I chopped a potato and measured out the milk, cream, cream cheese, corn, and other minor ingredients. Then I put them all in the pot and stirred them around and cooked it til the potatoes were soft… and it was delicious. It could have been a little thicker – we couldn’t find sour cream so I had to put in more milk and cream. Next time I may buy crème fraiche – it’s almost the same thing.
Stirring my corny, chowdery corn chowder
Corn chowder enthusiasm
Anyway, Vaune and Chris really liked it, which made me happy. I actually think they liked it more than I did – it was so heavy! I couldn’t handle more than one bowl. They had two. I still have some in a tupperware container. I think next time I will add onions – or maybe chives. Maybe some peppers or something to make it a little more interesting.
Afterwards we went to the Eiffel Tower, to see it at night. It was pretty, all lit up and sparkly. We sat on the grass and after the same man tried to sell us champagne three times, we left and went back to the Fondation, where we watched three episodes of Strangers With Candy and then crashed. Now Vaune and I are blogging, and soon we are going back to the Eiffel Tower to actually go up it. This will be my third time up the Eiffel Tower – hopefully it will finally be the first time I actually go all the way up, as I have always wanted to.
Chris and I outside the Eiffel Tower
In all its sparkling glory
Me pretending to catch the giant rugby ball suspended in the middle of the Eiffel Tower
Another note – I have my webcam set up now. I talked to Dan, although it was choppy and not great, but I also talked to my brother and the connection was much better. I have had trouble with iChat but Skype seems to be working pretty well. So if you have a webcam, let me know!
Our fridge was scheduled to arrive between 8 AM and 1 PM. Chris was also supposed to wake up at some point, buy a train ticket, and tell me what time he was getting in so that Vaune and I could go pick him up at la Gare Montparnasse. This was fine for a while… I lounged around, watched The Office, etc. Eventually Vaune went out to buy groceries for dinner. I kept waiting. Around 11, the fridge guy called and said he’d be there in 20 minutes. An hour later, I called him. He said they’d been held up but they were on their way. Another hour and a half later (keep in mind this is after 1 PM now) they finally got there. They were nice, but I was unsure of French tipping practices in this situation, out of cash, and unhappy with this particular wait, so I didn’t tip them. Especially because I was making corn chowder for dinner – so Vaune had dropped off, among other things : milk, heavy cream, and cream cheese, which had been waiting in my room for about an hour and had to sit in the fridge for another hour before it got cold, which made me nervous, though all was fine.
Stocked fridge
I went out to get some more groceries, and ran into Erin, which was fun. I went back and dropped off my groceries in the new fridge, and then took the RER and Métro to Montparnasse, where I navigated the station to find Chris and Vaune, and then we swam back through crowds of people to get back on the Métro. Once we got back, we sat around for a bit and then I started making dinner. We were all very excited for this – it’s been a long time since any of us has had any good food that wasn’t prepared in a restaurant. Well, except for Chris. But Vaune and I were excited. And I enjoy cooking and was looking forward to creating something. So I chopped up a carrot and a stalk of celery, minced some parsley, and sautéed them in butter while I chopped a potato and measured out the milk, cream, cream cheese, corn, and other minor ingredients. Then I put them all in the pot and stirred them around and cooked it til the potatoes were soft… and it was delicious. It could have been a little thicker – we couldn’t find sour cream so I had to put in more milk and cream. Next time I may buy crème fraiche – it’s almost the same thing.
Stirring my corny, chowdery corn chowder
Corn chowder enthusiasm
Anyway, Vaune and Chris really liked it, which made me happy. I actually think they liked it more than I did – it was so heavy! I couldn’t handle more than one bowl. They had two. I still have some in a tupperware container. I think next time I will add onions – or maybe chives. Maybe some peppers or something to make it a little more interesting.
Afterwards we went to the Eiffel Tower, to see it at night. It was pretty, all lit up and sparkly. We sat on the grass and after the same man tried to sell us champagne three times, we left and went back to the Fondation, where we watched three episodes of Strangers With Candy and then crashed. Now Vaune and I are blogging, and soon we are going back to the Eiffel Tower to actually go up it. This will be my third time up the Eiffel Tower – hopefully it will finally be the first time I actually go all the way up, as I have always wanted to.
Chris and I outside the Eiffel Tower
In all its sparkling glory
Me pretending to catch the giant rugby ball suspended in the middle of the Eiffel Tower
Another note – I have my webcam set up now. I talked to Dan, although it was choppy and not great, but I also talked to my brother and the connection was much better. I have had trouble with iChat but Skype seems to be working pretty well. So if you have a webcam, let me know!
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