the past three weeks

Alright - I'm sorry. Yes, it's been far too long, I realize, but I've honestly been too busy to think. Let alone write. Since Amsterdam, I've been to Strasbourg, Alix has been here, and I've been hit with my final round of papers and tests - the light at the end of the tunnel isn't even close yet, but it's getting there.

First of all - Amsterdam. What a cool city. I had an excellent time. There were a ton of kids from my program that all happened to go over on the same weekend, but everyone was spread out in different corners of the city and we didn't really run into anybody else. Marina (my spring break buddy) and I stayed in a hostel next to Vondel Park and spent the majority of our time there soaking up the sun in the tulip gardens next to a gorgeous lake.

Our hostel was a monster of a building and was mostly a youth hostel - we got hit-on by 18 year old Austriens the first night - but had a fun atmosphere, good breakfasts, hot showers and looked so ridiculously germanic on the outside that we had to take pictures. We stayed in a 20 bed dorm on the top floor with huge open ceilings and red and yellow latice work.

As my money is ever dissappearing, we didn't do much sight seeing in Amsterdam, but mostly just walked around the city. It's a really interesting place with little winding streets full of ecelectic shops, bars and restaurants. There are of course the "darker" sides of the city as well - many trashy porn shops along the red light district (an experience to say the least... I've never seen so many sad looking women lumped together in one place) and then the very legal drug shops. The city bustles with tourists and business men, old hippies and eclectic european youths. It gives the city a bizarre feeling - classy and trashy all at once, but certainly charming.

I also really liked how many bikes were scattered around the city - it's clearly the best way to get around and so environmentally concious, too! My only regret over my weekend is that I didn't rent a bike and go exploring. Aside from the Anne Frank house - which is certainly worth the visit, though very sad and humbling - the only other touristy thing I did was to visit Keukenhof flower gardens. Acres and Acres of tulips, lakes, trees... just beyond words. I took too many pictures and Marina and I spent a good four hours wandering around the paths. We also saw a little bit of the remaining tulip fields, but the tractors were following behind us and digging them up as we went along.

Back from Amsterdam, I had a few days of classes and then I took a short weekend trip to Strasbourg, France, on the German border. It was dreary for the day we were there, and aside from a very gothic cathedral and a historically preserved French village, there isn't much to see or do. We ate pretzles, drank beer, nearly fell on our asses when we discovered how cheap food is outside of Paris, and went home. Oh, and we did see the European Union, but I'm going to come right out and say that it wasn't all that impressive.

As soon as I made it back to Paris, Alix arrived! It was wonderful to have her here, and we did the tour of most Parisian land marks. All Alix has been talking about since she bought her ticket to Paris was the bell tower at Notre Dame, so we went up it, which was a first for me. A great view of Paris and the Gargoyles look really incredible and scary. I forgot my camera, so I'll have to go back.

Having my lovely cousin here really gave me a strong dose of home sickness, add to that the fact that she brought me gossip magazines, candy bars and extra crunchy peanut butter. oh! and Big Red gum... the french do not know what they're missing. She stayed with me for the week because the closest hostel to my dorm is an abosolute dump, and we slept head to foot in my tiny bed just like we used to when we were twelve. We stayed up giggling and talking, only this time we were a great deal older and found there was much less space to sleep in. Every morning when I'd get up for class I'd have to pick Alix's legs up off the floor and place them under the covers.

And while Alix was here, she lucked out and got to come on a weekend excursion to the Loire Valley with my group. Four castles in two days. Four castles. Two days. I hate to sound like a snob, but seriously, once you've seen one castle, they all start to look about the same. But the French country side was gorgous and we got to see some impressive fortresses - not to mention the trip meals of excellent and traditional french culinary treats. *Did I mention that Alix and I tried escargot while she was here? Yum-O (oh Rachel Ray, how I loathe thee). Seriously - mom and dad are going to have to try them.

I've made a Picasa album, so now all of my pictures both stupid and pretty are available for your viewing pleasure. I've labeled most of them and they're all in chronological order, with the exception of my southern trip that I still have saved on a friends computer. Only a month left to go and I'm certain it'll fly by what with mom and dad visiting and my week long trip to Germany just before I fly home.

PARIS

MADONNA

So imagine that you're sitting in bed, feeling rather lazy and lethargic, when you get a call. A call that could change your life.

"Sam, it's Nicola. What are you doing RIGHT NOW?"

"Nothing kid. I'm being a bum. Who lit a fire under your ass?"

"Do you want to get free tickets to see Madonna?"

"What? SHUT UP! You're serious?"

"Pack a bag, wear some layers and call me when you're ready to leave for métro Opera. We're going to sleep on the street."

And so we did. After twelve plus hours of waiting in line, chatting with the groups near us, munching on cheese and peanuts, guzzling Red Bull and beer, trying to sleep on the side walk and spooning together for warmth throughout the night, Nicola and I finally had our tickets and wristbands to see Her.

Yes, Her. I must say it was quite the religious experience. After we had our tickets, Nicolas and I rushed home to shower and nap (I was out cold for a solid two hours) and then went back to the Olympia theatre to wait in line AGAIN to get in. For five more hours we waited and when we finally got into the theatre we couldn't stop laughing and giggling...the time had come, the walrus said. We were going to see Madonna FOR FREE at one of the oldest and most established theatres in Paris - the Olympia Theatre where a shy little Edith Piaf once sang and won over the hearts of millions. Only this time it wouldn't be "La Vie en Rose," but "Like a Virgin;" my how the times have changed.

The crowd filled as Nic and I were pushed to the stage within twenty feet of the DJ. The first attempted to spin, but mostly just blended one stale dance floor track into another before the crowd got anxious and he was kicked off the stage to bring on ANOTHER DJ. This one was much better and was actually putting some great riffs together, but it was clear that the Madonnaloonies were getting restless - at this point we had been waiting a collective 17 hours and most of us were smelly, tired and cranky. The situation was only made worse by the pounds of candy the crowd had eatten while waiting in line. Promo girls had passed out suckers and gummies (clever marketing, non? The HARD CANDY album after all) and Nic and I felt the hit as we came down from our sugar high in the middle of the mob.

Finally, just after ten, the crowd made a huge commotion and Nic and I turned around to see Lenny Kravitz take his seat in the first row of the balcony - ten feet away. Now everybody was just itching to see her and it seemed like the apperance of a celebrity demi-god could mean only one thing: we were down to minutes.

Lenny sat, his group sat, and then the lights dimmed. Show time. There. Was. Madonna. She came out in all her glory - full makeup, dancers, colors, flashing lights and weilding a gaint walking stick like she was cock of the walk. I've decided that she is. I was close enough to see her sweat; close enough to see her wrinkles. And she was amazing - such a performer. I'm not sure if it was my lack of sleep, lack of food, or just the situation I found myself in, but I nearly wept. I hate to admit it - really, I do - but it was just so incredible.

She sang six songs (it was a free show after all) and then she was gone - fading into the side curtains and disappearing back into her faux-English accent and Kaballa books. After the show Nic and I felt like celebrating and went out for cocktails, but we were both so exhausted that we could barely finish our drinks and had to stumble off to catch the bus with smiles plastered on our sleepy faces. Just like two kids after a day at Disney Land...



This video is about how close we were to her. How incredibly unreal. Amsterdam details and picture album on next post. Promise.

spring break

Sorry I haven't written in a while - I've been an absolute bum this week enjoying the rest of my vacation, but as I recieved emails from mom and gma, I suppose it's time to update this thing. I'll start from the begining, so prepare yourself for a long post.

The day before break started, my group was lucky enough to see a Paris National Opera ballet performance: Noureev, Balanchine, Forsythe. We all got dressed up for the evening at the modern opera house in the Bastille. It was a performance of three ballets - scenes from a classical performance (Balanchine), a modern take on a classic ballet (Noureev), and the last one was an incredibly modern peice (Forsythe). It was SO COOL and made me realize how much I miss dance classes and the bar. It also made me realize that I have to quit my dance team when I get back to Champaign - I'm sick of dancing on what amounts to be a high school poms squad. I liked the modern piece the best - it was really bizarre and utlized a ton of lights and claps, very hypnotic. The evening would have been perfect had it not been for the group of junior high kids sitting behind us - what a bunch of shits.

Break started on Friday and Marina and I took the train to Aix-en-Provence - an incredibly beautiful town that moved at a deliciously slow pace. We got off the train at night and not having any idea where we were, we were forced to take a taxi. This wasn't the best way to start off our trip as we had promised that we'd work on a budget, but it didn't matter by the time we got to the hotel. It was raining and dark and we never would have found it on our own. The hotel was just outside of the city center; very small and private settled right in the middle of an olive field. Our room was pretty standard, but comfortable with amazing views of the hotel garden. As it was late and the rain showed no sign of letting up, we gave up the idea of going out for the night and promptly crashed.

For our day in Aix, we bought ice cream and walked around the town soaking up the sun and taking pictures of the cobble stone streets. We had a few beers in a sun-drenched town square, I dragged Marina to just about every church on the map, and we finished up the day at an exhibit of the 9th art - really creepy comic book stuff. Loved that. We kicked off our trip in style with dinner in a tapas bar and then tried to get picked up in the city but there wasn't much of a night life. It's so sad - we were getting so desperate to flirt with french country boys that when we found a bar full of men we practically ran to it only to be promptly turned away - it would appear that we found the only boy bar in the town.

After Aix we went to Nice which is probably one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen in my life. No, IS the most beautiful place I've ever seen. We lucked out and stayed at one of the most highly recommend hostels in the world. Despite it being a bit of a treck to get to (tram ride, thousands of flights of stairs), it was worth it because we got free breakfasts, cheap beers and an accommodating staff that really hooked us up with all the ins and outs of the tourist sights. We spent our first night in the hostel bar and met a ton of really interesting people from all over the world that were either backpacking around Europe or on their spring break like us.

Day number one we went to an antique and flower market (where I found some bizarre and lovely jewelry) and checked out the Nice beach....it's all small blue stones and nothing like the beautiful white sand that spoils me so much in Siesta Key, but still an incredible sight. In the afternoon we went to Eze, and though it was really cool to see this medieval town, I have to say that I wasn't nearly as blown away by it as Grandma was. I found it to be a little too touristic and disgustingly expensive. However, we did take the recommendation of the hostel and had an espresso on the terrace of the Golden Goat castle. The unexplainable view made the seven euro coffee worth it, but just barely. After checking out the church we hiked down the side of the mountain and jumped back on the train to Nice where we got off at a few petit fishing towns and wandered around covered streets from the seventeenth century.

That night we tried to go to a jazz club in Monaco, but finding it closed we just walked around the deserted Monte Carlo. It's so clean and sterile - like a Disney Land for adults that sells Chanel purses insead of mouse ears. We parked the car in a deck (we went with a group of people led by the hostel owner's son, Albert, so nobody better give me any crap about jumping in strange cars with strange men) and there wasn't a single tread mark on the asphalt. The whole city has a new car smell to it and all the palm trees are wrapped in lights and the fountains look like a movie set. In general it seemed fake and over priced, but still pretty cool.

For our last day in Nice, we had planned to go scuba diving in the morning (Marina insisted and as it didn't cost THAT MUCH I said I'd go along) but ended up getting faulty directions to the port and were nearly thirty minutes late for our appointment. We were walking all over the damn city trying to find this little boat and when we finally got to it there were only pot-bellied, middle aged men in wet suits - not one other woman in sight. We were both in such horrible moods after booking it across the city that we just decided to not go and save our money. We were already late and had expected that the boat would be gone, so I had resigned myself to the fact that we couldn't go, anyway.

Marina was BEYOND pissed, especially when I bailed and said I'd rather not go and I was hung over and didn't want to be on a boat for five hours or under water for that matter when I wasn't in a good mood. She didn't really talk to me for the rest of the morning and we both sat in silence as we ate filet-o-fish and fries at Domac (that's french slang for McDonalds - it's the verlan (lanvers) or the inversion of the word by syllable). The day was off to a shit start, however we managed to salvage it by taking the train to a little cove and soaking up the rays.

We started off on the rocks as we were too stingy to spring for hotel chairs, but quickly had to cough up the five euros as the waves started crashing up on the beach and completely soaked us. Just as we had settled down and taken our tops off (oh yes, we embraced the french way of life), a MASSIVE wave came and drenched us and all of our shit. We jumped up screaming and I'm sure everybody on the beach got a laugh at our expense.

After beautiful Nice, we finished our trip in Marseilles - an old port town. We both decided that it was our least favorite place...it was just seedy and the people were less than savory. Despite the layer of salty grime covering the cit, it did have it's own distinctive look and tons of interesting churches and things of that nature. After we got off the train we decided to spend the afternoon at the beach, and though it wasn't really warm, we stuck it out for a few hours and took cat naps in the sand. As it was the last night of our vacation, we wante to treat ourselves and have a fancy meal - a genuine sea food feast. We decided to be brave and shared oysters on the half shell for starters follwed by a main course of Bouillabaisse - supposedly a Marseille specialty that runs about forty a person, but we found a restaurant with a set menu that allowed us to sample all of these fruits de la mer at only 20 euro each including a half bottle of wine. That should have been our first clue that we were in for it.

Oysters on the half shell is like eating slimy salt. I want to believe that I liked them, but really I just insisted on finishing my share because I paid for them. If you covered them in vinegar and olive oil and then ripped them out of the shell and put them on some buttered bread and plugged your nose and didn't really examine what you were eating then I suppose they weren't so bad. I stomached mine with a grimace, but Marina couldn't even eat half of one - her face was PRICELESS. I've never laughed so hard in my life. We caused a scene and it was even worse when she started hiding her oysters under the lettuce in an attempt to convince the chef that she had actually eaten them. I couldn't stop crying.

And yet, the oysters were nothing compared to the fucking Bouillabaisse. Specialty my ass...I could have swam in the ocean with my mouth open and it would have tasted better. First the waitress comes out with a plate of fresh sea food - fish WITH THE HEADS, whole crabs, a ton of mussels and some potatoes. Then she comes back with a bowl of broth and makes a ceremony of spooning the broth over the pieces of whole sea food. That's it. Another picture moment, I assure you. The smell was something else, too. I ate the mussels and the taters, avoided the crab all together and ate the fish until I'm certain I ate a bone or cut my esophagus or something of the sort and had to stop eating. I felt like a had a bone in there for a couple of days, but thankfully the cut healed or a swallowed it. We couldn't stop grimmacing as we ate the soup and the cook was glaring at us from the kitchen the entire time.

For our last day in Marseilles, we decided to check out this amazing church up on the highest point of the city with this incredible golden statue of some saint that glitters over the old port - Notre Dame de la Gard. We followed the picture and the bus directions on the map to a T and thought that we were headed in the correct direction. It wasn't until we realized that we were in an entirely different town that we knew something was wrong. We ended up in the little town of Estaque without a clue which was kind of cool because I've been studying this town in my art history class - it's where Braque went and started the cubist revolution (not Picasso).

As it happened, the little town does have a church worth seeing, Notre Dame de la Galline, so we asked around and discovered that it was just a little jog up the colline (which means hill but in this case mountain is more like it). The farther up hill we got the more people stopped to ask us where we were going and when we asked for the cathedral they responded with, "oh you mean the church?" and then finally, "oh the little chapel in the mountains? Keep going on the main road up, up, UP! and eventually you'll find it."

So we walked. And walked. And walked some more on the hottest day I have yet to come across since flying over the big blue ocean. Marina flagged a car down to ask if this church was even worth seeing and the driver said that we still had a demi kilometre to walk (and what does that mean? the American school system really screwed me over, just want you to know) and that we'd have to ask the little old lady in the farm next door for the key to the chapel. WHAT?!?!?! Eventually we found it and the little old lady, but I have to say all the walking and sweating and swearing was worth it. The chapel is one little room that was built in the 1000s or something of that sort with no more than five pews and an interior that curves upward to a crumbling cieling with an iron chandelier and nothing electric or modern about the place. Very much like stepping back in time.

After our religious experience, (hahaha!) we only had two hours to get back to Marseilles, run to our hotel, get our luggage and make our train. We made it with minutes to spare, sweaty and disgusting. All and all a very awesome vacation with lots of great memories. I enjoyed the train ride back to Paris and watched the flower fields and mountains fly by. Marina headed off to Greece and the second half of her vacation, and I have spent the last few days bumming around my dorm and reading book after book - recovering from my vacation.

Today I finally got out of the building and went to the Salvador Dali museum up in Montrematre. There are over 300 works by the artists including sculture, lithographs and paintings - very, very cool. After visiting l'Espace Dali, I've decided that I MUST marry a man with an eccentric moustache. I'll have it no other way.

Everyone will be coming back from their travels in the next few days and I'm excited to hear what they've all seen and done. Then it's back to school for three days only to jet of to Amsterdam on Thursday. Life's tough, ain't it?

singing and soccer

Nouvelle Star...Nouvelle Star was AWESOME! We waited hours upon hours to get into the studio, but when we finally did we were incredibly close to the stage and all crammed into this little room with all sorts of important people bustling around with lights flashing and cameras swinging over our heads. We waited in the studio for two hours before the show started (and me wearing high heels as if anybody would even see my feet should I be caught on camera) and bottles of water and posters with all the contestants names were passed around to keep the crowd busy.

Finally the lights dimmed, the man incharge of the crowd started running around like mad telling us all to smile and clap, "ne jamais BOO," and remember that we're going to be broadcast live to five million french televisions - so act accordingly - and the judges took their seats. Show time.

I have to say that I consider the talent on Nouvelle Star of a much higher standard than that of it's American counterpart - almost all of the singers could belt it out and play the guitar or piano or drums. Fan favorite Amandine covered The Beatles "Get by with a little help from my friends" and nearly made me cry. She really brought the house down and was singing with such a passion and intensity that all the veins were pop POPPING! from her neck.

Emission du 09/04/2008 : Benjamin et Sian chantent Purple Rain - Nouvelle Star 2008 - wideo
<p>Benjamin et Sian chantent Purple Rain



<span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Arial">Retrouvez tous les coulisses et interviews inédites de la Nouvelle Star sur le blog de Moïse : <a href="#" type="h-t-t-p-:-/-/-moisenouvellestar.m6blog.fr/" onclick="gotoURL(this.type); return false;">http://moisenouvellestar.m6blog.fr/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-family: Arial">Nouvelle Star ® 19 TV Ltd et FremantleMedia Ltd. Basé sur le programme de télévision produit par FremantleMedia France. Licence par FremantleMedia Enterprises. <a class="moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="#" type="h-t-t-p-:-/-/-www.fremantlemedia.com/" onclick="gotoURL(this.type); return false;">www.fremantlemedia.com</a> </span></p>

Mots-clés : tele m6 tv nouvelle star télévision émission musique chanson rain casting live best of jury benjamin direct purple manoukian lio manoeuvre baltard sinclair sian efira

Video de nouvellestar

My personal favorite was Benjamin Siksou. First he sang a duet of Prince's "Purple Rain" (above - don't mind the html, it's just french crap) and then he did his solo song to CCRs "Proud Mary." He's got a smokey, bluesy kind of voice that reminds me a little of John Mayer, only he's less annoying and it looks like he has better musical influences. Plus he's French, so of course I'm all about it.

By the way, date number two with Roman was not as successful as the first. All the elements for a perfect time were there - café next to Notre Dame, pouring rain, a tiny little book store - but there was that little something extra missing. He's been calling, but I'm leaving for spring break on Friday and am playing the "I'm too busy card."

Laurel was here over the weekend, and I had a wonderful time showing her around Paris and catching up on all things Taylorville. She says she's having a great time in Italy, but is starting to get the itch to go home. I think I'm having the exact opposite emotions - I don't want to leave! I still walk around this city with my mouth hanging open and marveling at the beauty of it all. I figure it'll be time to go home when those feelings start to diminish, but how could they ever?

On Sunday night, my group went to see our very first European soccer match - Paris Saint Germain vs. Nice. It was an incredible experience and a dangerous one. We were given specific instructions concerning behavior, clothing and drinking before the match and our organizer watched us like a hawk until she was sure that we weren't going to get drunk and do something stupid. Soccer fans have a reputation for brawling and cat calling, so if at any time we were to say the wrong thing or cheer when we should be silent, we risked getting a beating.

And of course, me being the incredibly intelligent person that I am, wore Nice's colors to the match. Paris is red/blue/white (obviously) and Nice is red/black/white. Nearly the same, but I guess each team has a signature color that they identify with - Nice is ROUGE ROUGE ROUGE! Right out of the métro I got called at by three men, "Mademoiselle, perdez le rouge. C'est pas la meilleure couleur ce soir." To save my hide, I bought a PSG scarf and kept my coat on for the rest of the match (hey Connor, look what I bought you in Paris!).

The match was pretty boring and a huge let down when PSG lost in the 85th minute after they had been up by two the entire game, but it was still incredible to see the fans. We were sitting right in the middle of the main cheering section, and men were chanting and screaming all around us, holding up their scarves, lighting flares, waving flags and throwing empty beer cups at the Nice section that was roped off from the rest of the statium. I wish games in the US were more of this taste, then maybe people would actually give a shit about soccer.

Other weekend highlights included getting "choclate africain" at Angelina's - a world famous tea room and treates house (and it was delicious...practically molten chocolate and bitter sweet, too) and then walking around a Marche aux Puces where I found a tiny little shop that only sold buttons. Just buttons.

Just a few more classes to get through this week, and then I'll be heading to the south for a little sunshine and relaxation. Cannot wait, and I realize that because I'm anticipating this vacation, the rest of the week and all of my classes are going to drag by. At least I have a contemporary ballet to look forward to on Thursday night and class with a cute Belgian man Frederic on Friday morning.

Yes, I actually study...

Now that the beautiful weekend has come and gone and the weather is back to its old ways, it seems only fitting that I should have a mountain of homework, exams and papers to tackle. For the most part, classes here are a little ridiculous in terms of what is actually required of me and thinking capacity. I really hope I get credit for most of them as they seem way, WAY too easy. However, the French do seem to have a fondness for midterms, and I suppose that's where I find myself.

Perfect.

Tomorrow I have an exam in my Medias in France class. I took this class thinking it would be an indepth look at modern media - touching on communications, new technology, ADVERTISING, but sadly this doesn't really seem to be the case. The first two weeks we studied nearly every daily newspaper in the country, and then after that we looked at the French political system and its relation to radio. Last week I learned about ten different kinds of television stations that all seem about the same. My test is going to be on dates and people and a boat-load of journalistic vocabulary that I could care less about. It will either be incredibly easy or there-is-no-way-on-earth-you're-going-to-pass hard. We'll see.

On Thursday I have my midterm in my art history class, which I haven't yet begun to study for because of medias, but am already starting to freak over. I love, love this professor, but she covers so much material in each class that I already have half a notebook full of dates, names, paintings, relationships, salons, etc. I'm drowning in a see of Fauvism and it's turning me green! (Ten points to anyone who gets that!) As a rough estimate, I think I have close to 150 paintings to study, materials, time frames, meanings, and the artists' influences. Basically, I'm screwed, but that's a tomorrow problem.

Of course no day that is already darkened by a demon of a test would be complete without a paper due as well. My Synthèses et Argumentation writing class is kind of a joke (last week we had to turn in a resumé of a text and a personal reflection on what we considered a savoir-faire), but it's still time consuming, and without round-the-clock computer access, I've had to ease up on my eleventh hour ways. Timing is crucial as they kick me out of the "computer lab" (a room with a slit of a window and two old desktops) at midnight. I've tried writing my papers by hand, but I'm too much of a digital girl and it frustrates the hell out of me.

My other classes, Phonetique and Parisian Places, thankfuly don't require much of me this week, but they're always bad to begin with, so this is considered a change of pace.

Phonetique is just difficult and made worse by a professor that has no tolerance for American accents or Americans in general. She lumps us together like we're all best friends and when one of us is missing she announces to the class that we're just perpetuating the lazy-American stereotype. She is undoubtedly very good at what she does, but she knows it and is therefore an uber bitch with a bad haircut. I fear asking questions because she always stops me mid-sentence to tell me my "e" is incorrect....yes, I want to speak better, but I honestly cannot hear the difference between an "e" mi-fermée and an "e" fermée. Can anybody?

Parisian Places is the course offered through my University and it's just turning into one big pain in my ass. Unlike my other classes, this one is taught by an American, so naturally he's a fan of busy work and extensive, useless reading. French universities, and I suppose the French educational system in general, aren't really fond of daily exercises as they feel that you only do it to get it done and retain none of the information. They stress class discussion with little emphasis on "homework" in the sense that we're familiar with it, and I feel that it allows me to study the material that we do cover much more in depth. It initially sounded like the subject matter would be interesting - who wouldn't want to learn more about Paris? - but really it's just boring and all we talk about is the art of walking and Haussmannisation. Yawn.

And while this week is horrible, it's made better by the fact that I have lucked out with free tickets to see NOUVELLE STAR!! This show is the french version of American Idol and the girls that I hang out with in my building are obsessed with it - cannot get enough of it. They know every contestant and all the judges, the theme music... watching them watch the show is part of the fun. They try to sing along with the contestants, but they mostly sing American tunes so the girls can only get through the chorus and then mumble through the verses because they don't know the words! How could I pass up this cultural experience? I think ten of us are going, and I'll be one of two American girls in the bunch. Vanessa and I are going to be sitting there with our mouths hanging open as French teenagers butcher Edith Piaf and try to cover Britney Spears songs - last week a boy on the show did a cover of Toxic. It was horrendous, but the judges loved it.

Makes this week totally worth it.

...

In other news, my date with Roman went really well (not Romain like the lettuce. I know that's what I said, but I swear he wrote his name like that when he gave me his number. I even showed it to the french girls and they couldn't figure it out, but I saw his ID and it's certainly Roman. Yes, I know I have a horrible reputation concerning my inability to spell, but proper nouns do not count and this time it wasn't my fault!).

He took me to a concert and we talked about politics, art, religion, movies, music...we pretty much covered all the ground that is necessary on a first date. He's a psychology student, working towards some advanced degree, he baby sits on the weekends and he sports a cowboy moustache. He's 30...but he looks 25 tops. When you do the subtraction, it's only about an eight year age difference, which doesn't really freak me out as it's only A DATE, but it has sent some of my friends here into a tail spin. "HE'S WHAT? THIRTY? MON DIEU!" hahaha...come on, it's just a bit of fun. I think we're getting coffee tomorrow and I find myself surprisingly excited. He's intelligent and interesting, funny (yes, a french man with a sense of humor!), and we can actually keep a conversation going. Olivier and I (last french manboy) would find ourselves at so many lulls in the conversation that I nearly died from boredom.

Alors, as said, I've got a big week ahead of me, so I'm off to bed. Don't expect to find too much here for the next couple of days, but I'll have to update everybody about Nouvelle Star - I plan on watching the whole event with an anthropologists eye and maybe I'll even take notes. I'm entering the strange and confusing world of the french teenager... will I survive?

Parc Floral and Farmers' Market

It is finally spring in Paris! I've been in a MAJOR funk lately, feeling very homesick, but now that the clouds have cleared and the sun is shining and all the frenchies are out smoking their cigarettes and drinking their expresso, the city is breathtaking. I couldn't stop exclaiming, "quel beau jour!"

After class, my friend Vanessa and I walked along the boulevards and soaked up the beautiful sunshine. We ducked inside Shakespeare and Co., a great book store just across from Notre Dame. It's all current books on the first floor, and the second floor is only for reading and reference where you can sit for hours on the many beds or sofas just wasting away the hours thumbing through oringinal prints of Austen or Stienbeck. When you're not reading you can pour yourself a cup of coffee or play the piano that's tucked in between all the forgotten livres. It's really a great little place to visit if you're a bookworm.

After that, we continued our journey along the river and made it out to the point on the Ile de la Cité. It's directly in the middle of the Seine and with the water rushing past you on both sides, it's a great view. Mostly students congregate here to smoke and shoot the breeze, but we didn't linger for long as a group of dreadlocked teenagers were having their bags and coats searched by the police.

Then we took the métro out to Château de Vincennes (an area I MUST return to - this castle looked amazing, but I know nothing about it or what it's currently used for, so I'll have to make a field trip on my next free weekend) to visit the Parc Floral de Paris and an independent farmers' market that we had heard word of.



Since it was such a beautiful day, the park was just gorgeous and it really lifted my spirits to see more than a little patch of green in Paris. There is a beautiful lake, great big trees, whole fields of flowers and tuplips, daffodils....just incredible. We've decided that if tomorrow's weather is as wonderful as it was today, we're going to pack a very french picnic lunch of baguette, strawberries, cheese, wine and sausage and go back to the park to do our homework and relax in the sun for the afternoon.

The farmer's market was equally amazing, both visually and gastronomically speaking. There were close to thirty or forty independent farmers selling all sorts of products including cheese, jams, wine, olive oils, breads, foi gras, honey, salt, meats, candies....oh my goodness we were in heaven. We tried a little bit of everything including the duck pâtées (the french love a good pâté)and just about every cheese that they were dishing out to us. We bought a strong goat cheese that we're going to picnic with tomorrow, and I bought a jar of violet milk jam - it's difficult to explain, but it's jam that's made with sheep's milk and tastes like violets...it's delicious. There were also oysters and escargot, ciders and fresh olives, and probably a ton of things that I didn't get to taste or see. The best part was that all of products were 100 percent natural without any preservatives and of course made by hand. We weren't ready to leave, but we had made our free-sample tour a few times and the sellers were begining to recognize us.

Such a beautiful day, I wish I could fully express what a wonderful mood I'm in right now! Spring time in Paris - who would actually believe that it would hold up to its reputation?

Alright, enough of this over-the-moon crap, tonight I have a date with Romain, a new french manboy, so I need to go primp and brush my teeth. I know the french are all about their cheese, but I'm not so sure that smelling like a rotten goat sock is the image I want to present.

Nocture du Louvre, Fountainbleau § Vaux-le-Vicomte

Whew! What a weekend! I feel like I've been running around non stop since I got out of class on Friday, and for the most part that's the case.

On Friday night, I participated in the Nocturne du Louvre as part of my art class: Great Figures in Art from 1900 - 1920. Most museums in the city offer a "nocturne," which is basically just one night out of the week where admittance is free to anyone under 26; the Louvre's being Friday from 6 to 10. When the "jeunes ont leur parole" ("the youth take the floor," give or take), kids from college art classes pick a painting in the museum, research it, and then spend the evening wearing hideous tshirts and discussing the work, the artist and the painting style with other kids and tourists.



Originally, I thought that participation was necessary as part of my course work, so I feel like I sorta got suckered into the evening, but all said and done it was actually alot of fun if only a little exhausting. I presented La Richesse, a work by 17th century French artist Simon Vouet done in the Baroque Italien style. I was with another American girl from my program, so not completly alone, but she wasn't feeling tops so I mostly did the event on my own. After my first horrible presentation to an art teacher and a group of her students (to which I was incredibly unprepared for their questions - interrogrations! - and fell flat on my face) the evening went swimmingly and in the end I consider it excellent practice for my speaking skills as I spent the majority of the evening using french and only gave the presentation in english once or twice. However, I will not be so stupid as to participate again - no thank you.

Truthfully, I would have bailed after I had found out it was not an obligation, but I really like my art teacher and didn't want to get on her bad side. She's one of those "march to the beat of your own drum" kinds that have crazy wild hair, wear a ton of odd-ball jewelry and a shade of lip stick that is ten times too pink. Art history just oozes out of her pores and she has a funny way of introducing artists by their date of death as opposed to their natural life cycle. This week we're studying Picasso and she is practically giddy as she describes each painting - each class is entertaining, but I've stopped sitting near the front as her excitement creates a surplus of saliva.

On Saturday, my program took a day trip to visit two castles/estates - Fountainbleau and Vaux-le-Vicomte. The first was Fountainbleau, one of the many castles of François the First. The chateau spans many architectural époques, so the facade is a little disconcerting to look at as it's just one big jumble of building styles. Our group organizer took us on an incredibly dry tour of the exterior and for the most part I found the interior lacking in detail and cool furnishing. It did however have a very interesting chapel and some cool exterieur stair cases. I took alot of pictures which I'll attempt to post later, but for the moment you'll have to be satisfied with what I found on google. To be honset, I didn't find it all that impressive, but it was cool to discover that Napoleon attempted to commit suicide here.



The second estate was the Chateux de Vaux-le-Vicomte. I absolutely loved this palace. It was never a royal palace, but was instead built by a bourgeois, Nicolas Fouquet (foo-kay), superintendent of finances for Louis XIV. It is one of the most impressive buildings and grounds I've ever seen that has a striking resemblence to Versailles - and that is because the layout and design of Versaille was stolen from Vaux-le-Vicomte.



The story goes a little like this: After it's building in 1641, Vaux-le-Vicomte was the most impressive palace in the country of France. On August 17, 1661, Fouquet throws a lavish ball and feast to show off his chateau and gardens (and moat!) complete with luminaries and fireworks. He invites Louis XIV, whom I've come to consider a royal prick, who instantly becomes jealous when he realizes that the current royal palace, THE LOUVRE, is drab and unimpressive in comparission. After the party, he has Fouquet thrown in jail under the claim that he funded Vaux-le-Vicomte through the misappropriation of royal money, exiles his wife, and proceedes to steal, borrow and buy paintings, furniture and even the orange trees from the grounds. Then he hires the same architect, painter-decorator and landscape architect to build Versailles. Not kidding, Louis the XIV was a giant baby.



What I liked most about this chateau was it's size; unlike Versailles that is just too big to even consider as an actual residence, Vaux-le-Vicomte is stylish and done in the finest tastes - plus you actually get to see just about every room (I hate the Versaille tour because you really only get to see a fraction of the castle and at that you only see the public rooms of the royal family). The grounds also seem less haughty and severe in comparission to Versailles - clearly Fouquet wasn't trying to prove anything - and we lucked out with the most perfect weather to walk around the grounds and enjoy the sun. The fountains and faux waterfalls are gorgeous.

**Little interesting fact: the "Man in the Iron Mask" was actually kept here as a prisoner for several years, and you can go down into the dungeons to see the little stall that he was sequestered off in - it's next to the servents salon, the kitchen (which we actually got to see!) and the wine cellar.

Sunday I spent recovering from having too much fun on Saturday night. Ain't it just the life? Tomorrow is my day off, so I'm going to take it easy and make the final touches on my spring break plans. Only three more weeks and I'll be soaking up the sun in southern France.