It’s so funny to me that I attempt to write about what I do in a way that would interest my audience enough that they would want to
read about I'm up to.
Sure I’m in France,
but apart from the continual and lazy threat of strikes and the feasibility of
getting a fresh baguette, it would be as though I were to keep a blog in the US.
That said, here is what I’ve been up to on my vacation...
(This is the view of the Rue St. Antoine in Paris from my seat in Meo 7, the cafe I'm writing from right now.)
As I mentioned before, my first two weeks of hard work were
rewarded with two weeks vacation, and I’ve taken the opportunity to sweat my….ahem…butt
off. Kelsey told me about a Bikram Yoga studio in Paris
where, for 30 Euro, you have unlimited access to the yoga classes for 10
straight days. With 5 or 6 classes offered a day in two different studios, both
in the heart of Paris, this was a
phenomenal deal, and it’s exactly how I’ve been spending my vacation. For those
not in the yoga loop, Bikram yoga is a yoga that is done at high temperatures, just
26 poses done twice, over the course of 90 minutes, and the goal is to improve
your general health, and, in doing yoga in the intense heat, increase
limberness and flexibility. The Bikram studio
I go to (the website if you are interested in seeing pictures and getting more
info: http://www.bikramyogaparis.com/)
practices in a room heated to 42*C (which I was shocked to see when I converted
it that it’s 108*F!), and the temperature only rises in the small studio completely
full with 30 or so yogis. Sweat already drips down your arms and legs during the
beginning pose, an intense breathing pose, and by the end of the class you have
become a human dishrag, completely soaked in your own sweat, no part of your
body or clothing spared of your own perspiration…or for us girls, our “glowing”.
It’s pretty intense, but this is also why you do the yoga
not just on a yoga mat, but on a towel on a yoga mat. I was impressed with the
amount of sweat that can come out of each of my pores, and I usually drink an
entire 1.5L bottle of water sans problem by the end of class, and finish off
another 1.5L bottle in the following hours.
The yogis who practice are of all shapes, sizes, and ages, so it’s not at
all an intimidating environment, especially since there seems to be a
consistent flow of beginners, such as myself, doing the 10-day trial. On the
other hand, to actually do the yoga class regularly, it’s expensive, and I
laugh to myself thinking about how I am doing yoga amongst the Parisian elite. The yoga is cool-ish, but I don’t know that I
would continue doing it, even at a reasonable price; for now it provides me
with an activity to occupy me daily, keeps me out of trouble :), and, if
nothing else, makes me warm and cozy for a couple of hours in a country that
has seemingly forgone regularly using central heating.
Other than yoga, my vacation has been pretty relaxing. The
first weekend we took a 4-hour road trip to the center/east of France
to the city of Le Creusot
for the 25th birthday of one of Julien’s friends from school. This
last weekend we headed east again, again 4 hours (this time by train!), to Belfort,
France, where another one
of Julien’s friends lives. We arrived
Friday evening, feasted on Raclette (a typical French meal that is essentially just
melting Raclette cheese and then eating it with potatoes and slices of
different meats) for dinner with
friends, and the next day a group of 9 of us headed just across the boarder to
Germany’s famed Europa-Park, a theme park split into 15 distinct regions, mostly
named after European countries. It was a fun time, though slightly disorienting
being in a country where I recognized nothing
of what was being announced/written. It was Halloween weekend which coincided
with the last weekend the park was open, and consequently the park was
overflowing with visitors. We had to
park in what was essentially an open field just outside the camping area, but
leave it to the Germans, we were directed in such a way that our cars were VERY
neatly organized even in the open field.
I had what I believe to be a requisite beer while in Germany,
but our day-trip was short, and by Saturday evening we were back in France.
----
France
observations:
I think similar to how New York City
sometimes being referred to as the “The City that Never Sleeps,” Paris
could take on the nickname “The City that Snoozes on Mondays.” It is impressive how no less than 40% of shops,
cafés, businesses (banks even!), exhibits, galleries, etc are just closed on Mondays. Yesterday, upon
finding my “Meo 7” café (the phenomenal one with wireless, plugs, etc) closed, I
tell you (though slightly ashamedly) I headed straight to a Starbucks that I
knew of, and sure enough, it was open :) Paris,
however, is a great improvement from smaller cities in France;
Bourges, for example, is completely
dead on Mondays, making an open boulangerie
(bakery/bread shop) a challenge to find. And Mondays off for these places comes
after Saturdays of closing early, and Sundays closing by noon or 1pm. As my friend Shawn asked when I was telling
him about this “what if you need to buy something at the grocery store at 3pm on a Sunday?” Tant pis (too bad)…or I guess bonne
chance (good luck) finding a place that is open.
As many of you know, last weekend was Halloween, and as such
I ran to the department store down the street from Julien’s apartment just
hours before we were to depart for Belfort,
hoping to find a simple costume, a mask, even just some face paint for the
weekend’s festivities. In looking for an
impromptu Halloween disguise at Monoprix, I was highly disappointed to find
only two princess costumes alongside a Spiderman costume…all ordinarily being
viable options except that they were sized at “4 ans” (4 years old). With
no Thanksgiving decorations filling up sales’ racks (ok…forgivable) and no hype
surrounding Halloween (less forgivable), the French have forged right onto
Christmas and New Years by mid-October, little “2010” headbands already lining
the walls. What?!
And espresso in France
:) ..always comes in cute little cups, always comes with the accompanying cute
espresso stirrers and sugar cubes, and always comes with a treat of some sort,
a cookie, a chocolate, a sucker. The
only thing these coffee shops are missing is iced coffee, another specialty
unique to Starbucks.
…though along with the rapid disappearance of pleasantly-cool,
fall temperatures, I think my relentless query of “Est-ce que vous avez café glacé?” (Do you have iced coffee?) will also
soon fade away.
