Ok i am really sad now. I just typed out a hugely long entry - and
the stupid computer... grrr. Now i have to retype it all again - not happy jan.
Now i'm sad and can't be bothered.
I am really really pumped and excited about these two coats I saw today… I am madly in love. Also, I got free pizza for
lunch and icecream! Yey!
Daily Activities
This morning we had to be up and leaving
CIEP at 8am – far too early! I got up at 6.45, so I wasn’t running around like
a crazy woman trying to get ready in
time. I even washed one of my thermals! Go me!
We went to two different quartiers – one of
them was the Quartier de la Gotte d’Or, the other was around le boulevard des
Baginolles et le boulevard de Clichy. We went around and visited several places
where all of these artists and poets and ecrivains lived – I only recgonised
two people’s names: Emile Zola (we’re studying his books) and Cezanne. I took
lots of pictures for you dad. This was with M. Le Grand (remember him?) – I’m starting to like him more now as
a human being, but I’ll tell you more later. Anyway, after a while of walking
around parisien streets all the apartment buildings look the same – and it’s
not that fascinating to know that this artist, as well as 20 million other
people – lived there, in a tiny little flat, in pretty much abject poverty
because they spent all of their money on Absinthe. One of the quartiers was on
the edge of a “quartier sensible” which according to Sylvia is a dangerous
place to go my yourself – we had one guy offer us crack, but I think he was
joking – but there were a lot of African silk shops, with the most amazing
products. Again, we couldn’t go there. On our way out of that quartier, there
was a huge market underneath the metro station of Berbes – it stretched for
about a kilometre, really cheap food – mainly fruits and vegies, there were
also a few general merchandise stores as well as a couple of seafood stores –
compared to the prices in the magasins, everything was a bargain! It felt more
safe that the actual quartier, but again we didn’t have time to buy anything –
just a quick glance. I took some photos of both it and one of the very few
metro stations that is above ground.
I am getting a little tired of this whole
group-learning-experience thing. You don’t have the freedom to explore the city
at your own pace – you see heaps of
things you’re not interested in and then you don’t see things you are
interested in enough. For example, when I see a sign saying “buy one pair of boots get the second pair
for 1 euro” do I want to enter? YES. Can I enter? NO. Case closed.
Then we had lunch. The walking and
listening this morning was sooo boring – ana and I were itching to escape, so
we started to leave in the middle of M Le Grand’s concluding speech. He
actually followed us! We ended up having lunch in the same café – he was really
nice, a very proper French man – wouldn’t do or say anything completely kosher
– and I let ana do most of the talking. At the start, the waiter spoke to me in
English – and M le Grand defended my honour – elle peut parler le francais –
but the waiter explained he could see I was more comfortable in English…
anyway, it was sweet. I didn’t talk much – I would have talked more if I was
alone, but ana is such a talker, she always has questions and things to say. I
think M Le Grand may have thought I was a mute. I had this pizza that on the
menu had all of the ingredients of a capriccosa pizza – but was resoundingly
not. The ham was on the crusts only, the cheese was not the shaved cheese but
merely a sea of cheese in the middle, the anchovies were whole and put around
the pizza to make a star pattern… very odd. It still tasted nice, and I ended
up eating the whole thing. At the end, M le Grand insisted on paying! Both ana
and I fought back – I told him I have a lot of money, I would prefer to pay etc
but no he insisted on paying, which was very sweet and gentlemanly. Then he
gave us directions to go to our next stop – l’Opéra – and went on his way. I
think in Australia
we would be shouting “paedophile paedophile paedophile” but he wasn’t at all. In france, I think
it’s more kosher. He was very proper – you got the feeling he knew where the
line was and he didn’t even come close to crossing it – but he was generally
interested in what we had to say. Sylvia says he’s a bit lonely – he does ask
us a lot about uni and where we live and things – I think he’s generally a nice
man, and it’s good that he knows what’s ok for the situation and what is not.
Anyway, after a terrible boring morning, we
went to l’Opéra. Finally, a building worthy of taking pictures! It’s this most ornate, golden, chandelier- and
statue-covered place. The seats inside are red velvet edged with gold – the
place is fantastic. Napo III built it – it’s been renovated and rebuilt since.
Pretty damned beautiful. The guide who took us around had the strongest Spanish accent - she rolled her “r”s for what seemed like minutes,
which was quite interesting to listen to. She also pronounced all of the “ch”
“ct” and “qu” in French as a really strong “ch” sound as in “charles”. But it
meant that some words she actually spoke with a really strong aussie accent –
tres bizarre! I was, however, very pleased with my ability to understand about 97% of what she was
saying. Yey me!
Then ana and I went to Zara – the shop
assistants were really rude. They asked to see my ID because I don’t have my
name on my ANZ travelcard when I bought a grey jumper – but then they wouldn’t
explain why, they just ignored me! Then when ana tried to buy her pretty white
coat (which she ditched to the detriment of the red and yellow ones she’s been
debating over for what seems like centuries) they refused to use her card
because it didn’t have her name – even though she showed them her passport, and
her other ANZ cards with the same signature. They were really rude about it too
– talking to each other about how she doesn’t understand, and even though we
understand perfectly! For all those French out there: just because my spoken French is broken up, does not mean I cannot
understand – I understand it perfectly, and your rude comment means I refuse to
buy my 100 euro jacket from your store. Ana went to another Zara store when
I went to BHV to try to get my money back.
After that, we were rather angry and
annoyed and hating French customer service. Whether they’re nice and helpful
really depends on their own personal preference – I would get fired if I
treated customers the way that they treat us! Then to make ourselves feel
better we went to Ben and Jerries – my
favourite store in Paris!
I had this amazing ice cream – cookie
dough, and then vanilla toffee, and lemon sorbet. And then we went to BHV – and
they were really good!
Trying to get my money back when they
charged me twice for one purchase.
BHV, it turns out, does not have my money.
ANZ took it. Whoot. I did, however, get a very nice service assistant. I went
to one girl, who asked another girl, who took me to one desk and then another
desk and then left me in that girl’s hands who asked another girl who told me
to go to level 7, and then I waited a while and explained the situation. Even
though I was annoyed that I couldn’t get my money back, I understood everything that she said and since they
were relatively nice about it all after our hideous Zara experience I feel OK.
While I waited and the like ana went to the Zara near BHV and got the white
coat – they didn’t even ask for ID!
Then we stopped quickly at the post office
and then caught the metro home. I went to the supermarket – ana went straight
home – and bought water.
Philosophy of Spending
I have a new philosophy of spending. I’m
not spending money on shit I wouldn’t buy in Melbourne. So that’s no to the café espresso,
no to the hot chocolate, no to the croissant. I am going to spend money on food
I love – food I enjoy. That means the pizza lunch and the ice-cream dinner –
even if it means that because I spent money I food I enjoy I don’t eat the free
food at CIEP. Because CIEP food is shitty.
This extends to clothes. I am not going to
buy trinkets that are shitty and cheap. I will, however, spend substantial
amounts of money on things I love –
like, for example, my beautiful two coats. When I love something, it’s better
to buy it than look for a cheaper version in Melbourne – because I won’t love the cheaper
version as much. Also, my coats aren’t too big or thick, so they would suit Melbourne winter.
Understanding le Francais
I am very proud of myself. First, M. Le
Grand this morning – I could understand him perfectly, and I asked Sylvia and
she said that’s how he speaks to French students. Then the guide this
afternoon, and the check-out chick this evening. I think it’s a combination of
several things that means I can understand someone:
(a)
Speak proper French – no slang
(b)
Be educated
(c)
Subject matter
The French slang is almost impossible to
understand. Not because the words are weird – but because it’s phonetic. They
mumble their words, forget syllables, and generally don’t try to speak – they
grunt. But unlike some Melbournian teenage guys, it’s everyone who does it – not just the hormal amongst them. They make
no effort in communicating. When someone is educated they use proper French.
Also, the subject matter. My vocab is so
much richer and more varied on subjects like history, architecture, politics,
the environment, the immigration problem etc. My everyday French is pretty bad
– I had to look up what gloves were in French! So I struggle to understand
general conversational French, but then at the same time I can understand
intellectual stuff really really well.
Notes to Individual People
Dad – hope grandma enjoyed it, also can you
take some photos of jed? Full size – not reduced? If you move the picture onto
your computer and then upload it shouldn’t take as long. Xx
Aunty J: it’s ok, I brought the Paris Walks
– ana and I have already put some aside to do when we’ve got the free week.
Send gus good luck – I’m sure he’s enjoying himself heaps – and he’ll come back
speaking fluent german!
Conclusion: i am LOVING everything today! go jackets and icecream go! yey yey yey yey yey yey YEY!
By the way, the red one costs 99 euro and the grey one 80 euro - they're absolute bargains by parisian standards!
