I am writing from the
polished stone floor in a Sciences Po corridor. Today, the students
of this great institution don't know what to do with themselves. All
the libraries have been simultaneously closed for some reason, and
it's very wet and unpleasant outside. So we are all strategically
huddled in groups on the floor around powerpoints. The culture of
going to class and studying is very different here. The library has
pretty good computer facilities, so ordinarily a large percentage
would be seen hovering over desks, standing near people who look like
they might have nearly finished with a desktop. But pretty much
everyone has a laptop anyway (90% of which are macs). Unlike at
Melbourne Uni, though, there aren't many organised spaces in which to
use them, or indeed to just sit and study with good old-fashioned
books. There are a few student lounges which are always packed, but
they are essentially cafeterias and lack power outlets. Nevertheless,
between classes people usually study there, regularly breaking off to
buy steaming 50c cups of coffee or hot chocolate from the machines.
And they are studying.
Usually when I say I'm studying at uni, I'm actually hanging out at
the Rowden White Library, reading comics or snoozing in a bean bag. I
get very funny looks when I bring out a novel in a student lounge.
Yesterday, I couldn't stand the strain of making it through a day
without my nap, so I found an empty bit of carpet, used my handbag as
a pillow and fell asleep, and people looked at me like I was crazy.
Fair enough too, given that I was 20 minutes late to a class as a
result.
While
the continuous rain of the past week has made going into class quite
arduous for me, the Frenchies seem to handle it with equanimity. They
are used to it and have developed coping strategies. Even the
lecturers have come up with ways to alleviate the stress of constant
rain. For example, in my art history lecture which has a scheduled
break (un pause) the
professor always seems to be keeping one eye on the weather, so she
can pace her talking in accordance with the rain. In this way, the
break can take place in a period of as little rain as possible, so
that the legions of students can all duck out for a smoke. The pause
is also an important coffee-obtaining time, so it's important to
leave your seat immediately and be the first to arrive at the
machine, otherwise you run the risk of waiting for ages in a queue.
Fortunately, I don't have to stress about finding food or anything
like that. Sciences Po has a “CROUS” program, which basically
means a cafeteria system, where you can buy really cheap, delicious,
huge baguette sandwiches. The only problem is that I'm getting sick
of baguettes.
I
have started getting in a pattern for walking to uni, which is
complicated by the rain. Today I brought with me:
An
umbrella
My
winter coat
A
scarf
Two
pairs of gloves, one fingerless and fingered
Socks
An
emergency back-up pair of socks
Leg
warmers (for when the bottom of my jeans get soaked from puddles)
Hat
Emergency
back-up hat
Using
the bicycle system is less tempting when it rains. Fortunately it's
not too much more dangerous, due to the absence of tram tracks. But
it is exceptionally wet. It takes a special sort of courage to sit on
a very wet bike seat and risk riding the potholed streets full of
puddles. Parisians seem to agree with me. There are more cars on the
roads and fewer bikes.
My
uni work is becoming genuinely interesting, but still not genuinely
difficult. The teachers here require nothing less than complete and
total dedication to their subjects to the exclusion of all other
activities, but nothing more than a fairly low baseline of
intellectual curiosity. I think I've said this here before, but I'll
say it again: the point of French education is to learn things, not
to understand things. Of course you can't generalise. I have met some
truly amazing people while studying here. But I am often struck by
the behaviour and attitude of French students. They are more big
children than young adults. They need organised and specified
programs of study and don't have much interest in self-directed work
or research. They expect to put in a lot of work, but only in the
areas that their teachers prescribe. The administration also treats
people more like school students. Maybe it is simply because the
French bureaucracy has to deal with so many more people than in
Australia, particularly in universities, but everything is much more
controlled. However, typically of France, the high level of control
does not lead to a corresponding high level of organisation.
Things
are good at home. Arguments are kept to a minimum because we have a
cleaner come once a week to do the more onerous chores. Plus I'm
pretty determined to contain my natural untidiness to my bedroom and
keep communal areas nice. Maud is an awesome housemate. The only
problem is that if I had a horrible housemate, I would probably go
out more and see Paris. I'm experiencing a bit of guilt because so
much of my time is taken up simply by living and studying, and I so
rarely have the energy to go out and explore the city. I suppose,
though, that that is the natural consequence of actually living in a
city. I still haven't visited the Louvre or seen the Arc de Triomphe,
but I did those things when I was a tourist when I was younger. The
real French culture I'm experiencing is located in interactions with
waiters, wandering down Boulevard Saint-Germain and trying to buy
clothes without essential vocabulary like “size” and “fabric”.
In that respect, Paris is starting to feel like home. I'm doing
better with the language too. My reading skills have improved
dramatically since I bought a copy of “Harry Potter et le Prince de
Sang-Mele”, and I make sure I learn at least one new word a day.
I'm still having problems with my accent, but I feel like it's a bit
better, and I'm finding it easier to string more complex sentences
together. I owe this principally to the help of my friends, who seem
to know that I need both correction and positive reinforcement.
A
quick note. I feel I can finally admit this. I'm not
doing fencing. I epically failed at organising it. More bureaucratic
problems. But I'm certainly more active than I was in Melbourne. I
can't imagine having a car now, and most things are located within
walking distance of my apartment. The only time I miss my car is when
doing shopping. There are heaps of little supermarkets around my
flat, but the best is Monoprix on Boulevard St-Michel, about 500
metres away. I always, always
overbuy and end up nearly in tears by the time I get home, trying to
massage life back into my fingers. But at least there's a lift in my
apartment building.
Anyway,
enough procrastination! I have to get back to analysing the role of
Einstein in Parisian avant garde movements, and evaluating depictions
of homosexuality in post-socialist Europe. Later dudes.
