The Cougars, the Witch and my Wardrobe
Where to begin? Well yesterday I taught English again and then got myself lost walking aroung...which I have really taken a liking to. In fact walking seems to be my newest interest/past time, well that and lichee fruit. I just love the fresh markets here all the time. The one out front of my apartment is fabulous with fruits of the season and imports such as my new found love, the lichee fruit not the vendors. However last week the lichee man ripped me off, needless to say I've found better. The markets are just fabulous except for that they close by noon or one. Go figure, of course everything always closes. From time to time all I see of that early morning market and especially after a Friday night, is the street cleaners washing away the smell of fish...which is always unsuccessful. However being the early riser that I am, (ha) I have in fact made it several times.
So walking, yes, it was a rather nice day here, cloudy and windy but warm for January. I finally bought a nice winter jacket as the "soldes" are on now. The "soldes" which I think is a rather presumptuous name, start the second week of January and continue for 6 weeks. It's like boxing day shopping that lasts for 6 weeks. And is it ever like boxing day shopping. Screaming kids, fed-up cashiers, the works. However, for the first time, I actually can find the clothes I like that are the "leftovers". Since a normal size here is the equivalent to an xxs at home. Not so great for the ego or self image but they do have clothes in my size. My Canadian and North American friends at least share my humour and have basically given up on finding jeans that fit here, you need to go to England for that. Anyway, this may be the only time of year that I may be able to afford something from the Champs Elysees other than a coffee.
I also went to both my school and the Canadian Cultural center...both for the third time because the other two times they were suprisingly closed, a real shock. I find it amusing that they call places that stay open all day (what a novel thought) magazine NON-STOP. So the Canadian Cultural center that I was looking forward to going to (three times) was a complete waste of 3 metro tickets. There were about 4 brochures on visiting Canada, and a few other theatre brochures that I had already picked up elsewhere and I don't even really know what they have to do with Canada. None the less, there was also 2 exhibits. One was a metal woman sitting in a bed with several absurd pictures on the wall beside her, on sale for really expensive. The second room consisted of 10 pictures of the building of the national railway and a chunk of one of the first spikes. No wonder Canadian tourism is down, a city like Paris and all they can show is the national railway, how exciting. Oh and a metal lady sitting in bed. Again just feeding to the world's perception of Canada...maple syrup, moose, snow and alot of empty space. Those are always the comments I get when I say I am from Canada. Oh that and if I am talking to someone French they mention Celine Dion, and some other Quebec singers that I've never heard of. Garru (?) and Rock Voisine are other big ones. The only way I know of Rock Voisine is becuase of our grade 6 Core French cahier.
I love it when people ask me what a regional dish is for Canadians and Toronto is. To which my answer is blatantly "maple syrup...umm..." (pause while I think)...poutine? And Montreal smoked meat. I guess I am not adding to the promotion of our country. However while on this topic, I love when I see Canadian and American sandwiches advertised all over the place. An American/ Canadian sandwich is a baguette filled with fried eggs, hamburger and fries (in the baguette), like whoever told them that we do that? And where did they ever see that in Canada?
Right so the Cultural center was a bust and the Sorbonne told me to come back yet again to register. The Sorbonne is gorgeous, though it is impossible to get into the school. I need to get into the school to register in order to register, but the guards at all the doors won't let you in unless you have a student card. How am I suposed to get a student card, if I am not registered? How am I supposed to register to get the student card if I can't get to where you register to get the student card because I don't have one! That was like last semester where I couldn't get my "carte sejour" without my student card and I couldn't get my student card without my "carte sejour"...which is why I finally got my student card the final month of class after weaselling my way out of the vicious cycle. Definately not a user friendly system for the etrangers. Sometimes the French bureaucracyis just a big royal round-a-bout. That or a really annoying Chinese finger trap. Especially with Fort Knox, that was really bothersome, you'd think with a school as old as the Sorbonne that maybe after eight centuries they might have figured out a more logical way of doing things...perplexing really. But it is so beautiful inside, once you pay the bouncers off.
I also in my walking went to Sylvia Beach's bookstore "Shakespeare's" and picked up "A Moveable Feast", a classic by Hemingway as he describes his life in Paris. It is such a fantastic read and highly recommend it to anyone who wants to feel like they are in Paris too. That and the Da Vinci Code, to anyone who has been sleeping for the last year and not read it.
The one thing that I truly love about walking in Europe is how you can be walking down the most commercialized street and turn a corner and wind up on the cutest little terrace of a cafe that's been there for ages, that or a church from the 13th Century. The churches here are so incredible. They are just amazing, the work that must have gone into each of them is mind blowing. I will come back to the churches another day because my description today will not suffice.
I also went for my morning run at the Bois de Boulonge, as I mentioned before near my house. The old eat lunch together, the young walk hand in hand, the middle-aged walk their dogs, and the business men come for their daily lunch fix before going home to their wives. That's right. Today I decided to take a different route near the circus grounds. That was my first mistake. This park is massive and extends to miles upon miles of forest and trails. I try sensibly to stick to the main paths and streets. Today I though I would take a path I saw many take. And that is one path I don't choose to go down from here on out. Now that I realize the people I saw are suspiciously never in running gear.
So there I was jogging through Cirque du Soleil, not really it is some other circus, but I wish it was. There was nothing to be seen there but empty tents and barrels of hay. I then took a path where many cars were lined along the street. It was only as I was running by the cars did I notice what was really going on. I was casually looking at the white vans and curiously wondering why there were so many "Jeepers Creepers" (the movie) vans parked along the side. I noticed a woman sitting in one and her door was open. The van door that is. The back of the van was empty save for a neatly made double bed. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what exactly the purpose of these beds were. Instantly two and two together came together, or should I say two became one, or three, or whatever your fancy. Right, the Bois de Boulonge...well known for its prostituee. Needless to say I did not stop to strech in that neck of the woods. Instead of thinking all of the names that one could come up with for such a concept on wheels, I choose not to think of the derogatory comments and instead suddenly felt very sorry for the women, what a horrible situation. My Cirque du Soleil quickly clouded over and turned into a Moulin Rouge. Might I add there was no Christian to be found. (Christian refering to Ewan McGegor's character in Moulin Rouge, not the faith, though I'm sure their were neither.) Though I wish there were, both. On this note I should also be very pleasantly suprised if a bunch of bohemians fell though my apartment roof at any time. cue bohemians falling through Shannon's roof Okay so I don't live in a movie, but I wish I did because it would have a killer soundtrack and lots of dance scenes. ...
From now on I will stick to the roads. The park is still adorable, minus the white vans. There are cute little cafes hidden in the woods, because the French seem to put them everywhere. Talk about caffeine addiction. I am sure the cafes also sell cigarettes, so that you can have a smoke and a coffee while on your run.
Oh, before I forget I must admit that I lied in my last journal. I have seen someone in my building. I am surprised that I did leave that out becuase she always makes such an impression. I only see her when the sun is just starting to set, the lighting where your eyes begin to play tricks on you. Both times I saw her in the exact same place. As I was leaving this evening I descended in my itty-bitty dollhouse sized elevator. As the door opens at the bottom floor, I push the second door open, and there both times stands a short round figure looming in the shadows. (You see when they first built a majority of these apartment buildings such as my own, elevators did not exist. With the creation of the marvelous lift, they squeezed elevators into the small spaces in the middle of the sprial staircases. Which explains their size. Well if you continue on down mine past the first floor, which I out of curiousity have, you find yourself in the creepiest of basements. Mind you this was the day that I had just been to the Conciergerie / Palace of Justice - (or unjustice because way too many people had their heads cut off there)...where on the tour you saw the holding cells of the prisoners and revolutionist such as Robespeirre and the Queen herself Mary Antoinette. So this basement is lined with wooden stalls, resembling that of a stable, except that they are floor to ceiling and you cannot see the contents. I think that is where the bodies of my neighbours rest. I wouldn't be suprised if they did one day find a body down there, it looks so ancient. You won't catch me turning in circles playing Bloody Mary down there, I'll tell you that much. Anyway, she looms at the top of the creepy stairs in the dark in a black fur coat to her feet. She then continues to hobble past me and get into the elevator so that I will never suspect that she has Hansel and Gretel sitting in our basement stables getting fatter and fatter. Both times I've said to her trying to excuse my actual gasp out loud "oh tu ma fais peur!" Which means you scared me. To which she has no response as I am sure she knows. Anyway, that is the one person I've seen, and would have rather not have. It's a wonder that I sleep at night. Although my conciege is very lovely and so is his son. (wink)
Right well, enough of the chronicles for now,
A beintot,
Shannon
So walking, yes, it was a rather nice day here, cloudy and windy but warm for January. I finally bought a nice winter jacket as the "soldes" are on now. The "soldes" which I think is a rather presumptuous name, start the second week of January and continue for 6 weeks. It's like boxing day shopping that lasts for 6 weeks. And is it ever like boxing day shopping. Screaming kids, fed-up cashiers, the works. However, for the first time, I actually can find the clothes I like that are the "leftovers". Since a normal size here is the equivalent to an xxs at home. Not so great for the ego or self image but they do have clothes in my size. My Canadian and North American friends at least share my humour and have basically given up on finding jeans that fit here, you need to go to England for that. Anyway, this may be the only time of year that I may be able to afford something from the Champs Elysees other than a coffee.
I also went to both my school and the Canadian Cultural center...both for the third time because the other two times they were suprisingly closed, a real shock. I find it amusing that they call places that stay open all day (what a novel thought) magazine NON-STOP. So the Canadian Cultural center that I was looking forward to going to (three times) was a complete waste of 3 metro tickets. There were about 4 brochures on visiting Canada, and a few other theatre brochures that I had already picked up elsewhere and I don't even really know what they have to do with Canada. None the less, there was also 2 exhibits. One was a metal woman sitting in a bed with several absurd pictures on the wall beside her, on sale for really expensive. The second room consisted of 10 pictures of the building of the national railway and a chunk of one of the first spikes. No wonder Canadian tourism is down, a city like Paris and all they can show is the national railway, how exciting. Oh and a metal lady sitting in bed. Again just feeding to the world's perception of Canada...maple syrup, moose, snow and alot of empty space. Those are always the comments I get when I say I am from Canada. Oh that and if I am talking to someone French they mention Celine Dion, and some other Quebec singers that I've never heard of. Garru (?) and Rock Voisine are other big ones. The only way I know of Rock Voisine is becuase of our grade 6 Core French cahier.
I love it when people ask me what a regional dish is for Canadians and Toronto is. To which my answer is blatantly "maple syrup...umm..." (pause while I think)...poutine? And Montreal smoked meat. I guess I am not adding to the promotion of our country. However while on this topic, I love when I see Canadian and American sandwiches advertised all over the place. An American/ Canadian sandwich is a baguette filled with fried eggs, hamburger and fries (in the baguette), like whoever told them that we do that? And where did they ever see that in Canada?
Right so the Cultural center was a bust and the Sorbonne told me to come back yet again to register. The Sorbonne is gorgeous, though it is impossible to get into the school. I need to get into the school to register in order to register, but the guards at all the doors won't let you in unless you have a student card. How am I suposed to get a student card, if I am not registered? How am I supposed to register to get the student card if I can't get to where you register to get the student card because I don't have one! That was like last semester where I couldn't get my "carte sejour" without my student card and I couldn't get my student card without my "carte sejour"...which is why I finally got my student card the final month of class after weaselling my way out of the vicious cycle. Definately not a user friendly system for the etrangers. Sometimes the French bureaucracyis just a big royal round-a-bout. That or a really annoying Chinese finger trap. Especially with Fort Knox, that was really bothersome, you'd think with a school as old as the Sorbonne that maybe after eight centuries they might have figured out a more logical way of doing things...perplexing really. But it is so beautiful inside, once you pay the bouncers off.
I also in my walking went to Sylvia Beach's bookstore "Shakespeare's" and picked up "A Moveable Feast", a classic by Hemingway as he describes his life in Paris. It is such a fantastic read and highly recommend it to anyone who wants to feel like they are in Paris too. That and the Da Vinci Code, to anyone who has been sleeping for the last year and not read it.
The one thing that I truly love about walking in Europe is how you can be walking down the most commercialized street and turn a corner and wind up on the cutest little terrace of a cafe that's been there for ages, that or a church from the 13th Century. The churches here are so incredible. They are just amazing, the work that must have gone into each of them is mind blowing. I will come back to the churches another day because my description today will not suffice.
I also went for my morning run at the Bois de Boulonge, as I mentioned before near my house. The old eat lunch together, the young walk hand in hand, the middle-aged walk their dogs, and the business men come for their daily lunch fix before going home to their wives. That's right. Today I decided to take a different route near the circus grounds. That was my first mistake. This park is massive and extends to miles upon miles of forest and trails. I try sensibly to stick to the main paths and streets. Today I though I would take a path I saw many take. And that is one path I don't choose to go down from here on out. Now that I realize the people I saw are suspiciously never in running gear.
So there I was jogging through Cirque du Soleil, not really it is some other circus, but I wish it was. There was nothing to be seen there but empty tents and barrels of hay. I then took a path where many cars were lined along the street. It was only as I was running by the cars did I notice what was really going on. I was casually looking at the white vans and curiously wondering why there were so many "Jeepers Creepers" (the movie) vans parked along the side. I noticed a woman sitting in one and her door was open. The van door that is. The back of the van was empty save for a neatly made double bed. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what exactly the purpose of these beds were. Instantly two and two together came together, or should I say two became one, or three, or whatever your fancy. Right, the Bois de Boulonge...well known for its prostituee. Needless to say I did not stop to strech in that neck of the woods. Instead of thinking all of the names that one could come up with for such a concept on wheels, I choose not to think of the derogatory comments and instead suddenly felt very sorry for the women, what a horrible situation. My Cirque du Soleil quickly clouded over and turned into a Moulin Rouge. Might I add there was no Christian to be found. (Christian refering to Ewan McGegor's character in Moulin Rouge, not the faith, though I'm sure their were neither.) Though I wish there were, both. On this note I should also be very pleasantly suprised if a bunch of bohemians fell though my apartment roof at any time. cue bohemians falling through Shannon's roof Okay so I don't live in a movie, but I wish I did because it would have a killer soundtrack and lots of dance scenes. ...
From now on I will stick to the roads. The park is still adorable, minus the white vans. There are cute little cafes hidden in the woods, because the French seem to put them everywhere. Talk about caffeine addiction. I am sure the cafes also sell cigarettes, so that you can have a smoke and a coffee while on your run.
Oh, before I forget I must admit that I lied in my last journal. I have seen someone in my building. I am surprised that I did leave that out becuase she always makes such an impression. I only see her when the sun is just starting to set, the lighting where your eyes begin to play tricks on you. Both times I saw her in the exact same place. As I was leaving this evening I descended in my itty-bitty dollhouse sized elevator. As the door opens at the bottom floor, I push the second door open, and there both times stands a short round figure looming in the shadows. (You see when they first built a majority of these apartment buildings such as my own, elevators did not exist. With the creation of the marvelous lift, they squeezed elevators into the small spaces in the middle of the sprial staircases. Which explains their size. Well if you continue on down mine past the first floor, which I out of curiousity have, you find yourself in the creepiest of basements. Mind you this was the day that I had just been to the Conciergerie / Palace of Justice - (or unjustice because way too many people had their heads cut off there)...where on the tour you saw the holding cells of the prisoners and revolutionist such as Robespeirre and the Queen herself Mary Antoinette. So this basement is lined with wooden stalls, resembling that of a stable, except that they are floor to ceiling and you cannot see the contents. I think that is where the bodies of my neighbours rest. I wouldn't be suprised if they did one day find a body down there, it looks so ancient. You won't catch me turning in circles playing Bloody Mary down there, I'll tell you that much. Anyway, she looms at the top of the creepy stairs in the dark in a black fur coat to her feet. She then continues to hobble past me and get into the elevator so that I will never suspect that she has Hansel and Gretel sitting in our basement stables getting fatter and fatter. Both times I've said to her trying to excuse my actual gasp out loud "oh tu ma fais peur!" Which means you scared me. To which she has no response as I am sure she knows. Anyway, that is the one person I've seen, and would have rather not have. It's a wonder that I sleep at night. Although my conciege is very lovely and so is his son. (wink)
Right well, enough of the chronicles for now,
A beintot,
Shannon