It's been a few more days in Paris, and nothing has been disappointing. I finally have my new french cell phone, with the help of a very posh and helpful man at Orange named Michelle (you must say it with a french accent: Mee-shell). It's been strange going back to a normal phone after using a smart phone for the past few years, all of us students going through this transition have to sit down and really concentrate in order to send a text message in under 3 minutes.
Today, I moved in with my host family. I did't really know anything about them before, other than their names are Monseiur et Madame Aubert, and that they live in the 15è arrondissement, (15th district). They were supposed to be about the same age as my grandparents, and the woman wasn't really sure if they had children, but if they did, they would all be grown and moved-out of the house. At first, I was a little disappointed because half of the other students were coming out with full descriptions of their room,
including private bathrooms, private gardened terraces and views of the Eiffel Tower from their window. The blonde woman who I and the other half of the students met with on Thursday, apparently didn't know anything and was just there to hand out our information packets, and our smoke detectors. Yes, smoke detectors. Apparently, none of the buildings in France have smoke detectors, and because of liability issues, the UC provides each student with one to put in our rooms, but we must return it undamaged at the end of our stay here in Paris. I'm sure I looked quite bizarre walking back to my hotel after the meeting, carrying a smoke detector as it wouldn't fit in my purse.
The home of Monsieur et Madame was quite a lovely surprise. There's something about it here that feels very home-y. It definitely reminds me of my grandparents old house in Piedmont, but then there are the things that are just so perfectly Parisian that it truly feels like a home away from home already. I'm in love with my window. I don't have a view of the Tour Eiffel, or L'Arc de triumph or anything, just some other windows of neighboring apartments with small planters on their iron-wrought windowsills. Just looking out the window I know I'm no longer in the states, but somewhere far more ancient and romantic, it's a kind of beauty that is incomparable to any of our new and harshly lined buildings.
Monsieur et Madame are both retired, living quietly in this charming old apartment on the 5è étage (6th floor). They have 3 children who are all out of the house, and married but have yet to have any children themselves. Madame Aubert seems to be silently hoping that she will have some grandchildren soon. She is a very hospitable woman, and has been nothing but extremely sweet and understanding. She and her husband have been hosting students for 5 years or so, so they surely understand my nervousness and my tendency to be shy. She picked me up from the hotel in her little car and drove me to her home, where I will be staying until mid-December. She was much taller than I imagined, but there is something about her when she walked in that made her seem a bit different than the rest of the host-Madams; I'm excited to see what kind of relationship I will develop with her. Monsieur Aubert I am a little more intimidated by, and I'm really not sure why. He's been nothing but sweet to me as well, perhaps it is just because he pushes me a little bit more to speak French than Madame does, or maybe it's just because he's a little more quiet. He's a bit silly looking, a bigger man a bit disheveled with black wiry hair sticking out of his ears and a cowlick on the back of his head that makes some of his hair stand up, but still nevertheless, very welcoming of me into his home.
We shared a 5 course meal together for lunch today along with their middle daughter Penelope (en français Pénope). For today, they're allowing me to speak English, as they can tell I am a bit unsettled and there were a few important things needed to be discussed and fully understood, mais demain, il faut que je parle en française seulement (but tomorrow I must only speak french)! Lunch was delicious chicken curry and rice with cantalope, salad, yogurt and chocolate mousse; I can hear madame in the kitchen now getting ready for dinner, I'm already salivating
I'm starting to make a dent in touring this city. A couple days ago a group of us took the metro to Les Catacombs where over 6 million bodies rest in less than 1 square kilometer. The spiral staircase seemed to sink down forever, pulling us into what felt like an eternal damp darkness. There were black streaks on the ceiling, remnants of soot from the torches and candles that were formerly used to light the way through the endless tunnels.
Then we got to the bones.
There were piles and piles of them, yellowing femurs stacked perfectly to make menacing walls, accented by the skulls lined up on top of them, or pressed into the wall of bones themselves, with their hollow eyes and gritting teeth. There was something so frightening about it, I didn't even dare touch the bones themselves as it felt like it would be something unholy. Understanding that all these bones were at one time covered in human flesh and enlivened by pulsing blood and passionate souls like myself was just too much to fully grasp. All in all, it was creepy.
After the catacombs, we wandered around and stumbled upon a beautiful park somewhere in the 14th arrondissement I think. The smaller group that was left of us decided to find some wine and drink it while sitting in the park. It was quite a journey to find a store that actually sold wine, but it was one worth while because this day I'm sure will be one I never forget. We found a private patch of grass in a garden and all sat in a circle talking and sipping wine, getting to know each other a little better. Suddenly, we hear a splat, and I thought I felt something land in my hair. Surely enough, there among my golden curls was a nice pile of pigeon poo, my friend Josh had been hit in the head too. I got most of it out, and wiped it on the grass with a disgusted expression plastered on my face, but it wasn't long before the fat pigeon practiced his aim again. Mid-conversation we all heard another splat, followed by Carly's "EW EW EW EW EWWW!!!", hers had luckily been on her leg, but a small portion had also landed in Alex's pretty long blonde pony-tail. Carly had recovered just moments before the next, and biggest bomb was dropped on poor Josh. This bird was not messing around - Josh's curls were smeared with white, dripping onto his shoulder and back, and in the same shot the damn bird had got a good portion of his camera bag. All we could do was laugh hysterically and try to believe that it meant that we had good luck - I guess in order to be here I have to have some.
We returned to the hotel with dinner waiting for us. We all decided that since we had kitchens in our hotel rooms, we might as well make use of them and save some euros. Chelsey had cooked chicken, broccoli, potatoes and pasta, and it was all so delicious and it only cost each of us 3 euros as opposed to the 18 it had cost when we went out to dinner. We ended up using that same plan the rest of the nights we spent in the hotel, and I must say I'm a little sad that it's not happening tonight. Whatever madame is cooking smells wonderful, but I miss having all my new friends in incredibly close proximity to me - they're all still close, and I will see them every day at school at least, but already I miss our dinners and our dance parties. But who knows, maybe Monsieur Aubert will start dancing in the living room after dinner!
Can I just say I'm super jealous?
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