30 December, 2006 | 7 Comments

[as the Italians call Paris...]

I had the most amazing time in Italy. My trip exceeded all expectations. It was magical. It was perfect. And I must thank the travel gods for looking out for me — I was healthy and safe the whole time. I wasn’t robbed or ripped off or treated in a mean way by anyone. I didn’t lose anything. I didn’t miss a train or a flight. I feel blessed.

I also feel nourished on every level. Literally, of course, because the food was fantastic. I also feel nourished as a human, looking at so much art and history and beauty. The people were fantastic and warm and gracious. I wish I could give Italy a big hug right now. Italia, I missah youah alreadeee!

Before I left Paris, I was soooo burned out. I hadn’t had a real break from my job in a year, I was sick and tired of studying French every single day for hours and I was coming off three and a half very exhilarating but difficult months. Add Christmas while being far from home and a birthday on top of that and you’ve got yourself a real angst-fest. I can’t remember the last time I felt so fried. The first two days of my trip, I had fun but still felt tense. I couldn’t relax. I began to worry that I’d lost the ability to ever really and truly relax at all. But then something happened. I switched off. I lost myself. I stopped thinking about home and stress and just let Italy wash over me. I entered this sort of euphoric traveler’s state, where all that matters each day is what you’re going to eat and what amazing sights you’re going to see and who you might meet. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been gone for at least a month — the fact that my trip was only 8 days long is unbelievable to me.

I highly recommend Italy in the winter. As I’ve written before, I visited Italy once before during peak season about ten years ago and had a miserable time. It was hot and mobbed and overwhelming. Italy in the winter is a much different place. There are fewer crowds, the locals are more relaxed and friendly because they aren’t being barraged with pushy foreigners and the cold was typically more bearable than being outside in the sun and heat all day (at least for me — I’m very sensitive to heat). The prices were also much lower. Of course, there are trade-offs — reduced hours for many sights, reduced daylight hours (which does force you to be more organized with your time), etc. But seeing Italy at Christmastime was particularly lovely and special.

I feel completely refreshed now as the year ends and we await 2007, which is just what I was hoping for when I booked this trip at the last minute (with so many of you encouraging me!). Sometimes you need to get away from home — even if “home” is a place like Paris. [BTW, the first time someone in Italy asked me where I live, I had no idea. My mind went blank. I ran through a list of cities in my mind before remembering, oh yeah, most of my clothes and books are parked in Paris right now. I guess, sadly, that I don't think of Paris as my home. I think it was good for me to get away from Paris too -- I think I'll appreciate it more now.]

Despite having such a great time, I was ready to come “home.” Eight days of intense, non-stop cultural and culinary stimulation is about the limit for me, I think. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. This week, I plan to write in more detail about my trip and try to organize all the photos I took. My Italian journey was one I’ll never forget. It has a place in my heart.

30 December, 2006 | 8 Comments

I returned from Italy last night but woke up this morning in a hotel — long story. Because I had access to satellite TV, I happened to be watching BBC World News this morning, soon after the news of Saddam Hussein’s execution broke. The reporters on the BBC seemed heartbroken. I’m sure their correspondent in Baghdad had a good cry once he was out of camera range. It was a bit unbelievable. You’d think one of the most magnificent personages of the 20th century had just tragically died and the entire globe was suddenly plunged into mourning.

BBC = ACK.

I have a lot to say about Italy, but I felt strongly enough about this to post something. I find bias in the so-called “objective” news media (right-wing bias, left-wing bias, blatant anti-Americanism) to be extremely offensive. Thank goodness I no longer have access to any of these stations — CNN, Fox News Channel and the BBC World News. I feel sorry for anyone who relies on these outlets for their news and information.

28 December, 2006 | 4 Comments

I arrived in Venezia late last night. It’s quite cold here and the canals are blanketed with fog, which is truly amazing to see. Apparently, the fog isn’t normal for this time of year. I can’t upload any photos because I’m at an internet cafe. (And BTW, in Italy, internet cafes have to make a copy of your photo ID and give it to the police because of terrorism. Insane.) I leave for Paris late tomorrow night. Between now and then I just plan on walking all over. I have reached my museum quota for this trip, I think. What could be more exciting than just seeing Venice? I am hoping for a little sunshine though…
I’ll write all about my trip when I get home…until then, Ciao!

26 December, 2006 | 3 Comments

Photography is banned inside the Accademia, so I had to sneak photos when the guard wasn’t looking. If they really don’t want people to take photos, they need to think of a more threatening deterrent than having a 5′2″ lady screaming “No photos!” every five minutes. Ooooh, I’m shivering. I managed to get a photo of David’s backside, but it’s not a good photo. I’m not sure if I can salvage it, but his tush is so glorious I’ll keep trying…

26 December, 2006 | Comments

I had an interesting Christmas Eve in Rome. At one point I got lost trying to find my hotel, which was very strange because I have a good sense of direction. So I asked this guy sitting on a vespa to help me, then ended up chatting with him for quite some time. He was so cute! Why don’t I live in Rome? Sigh. I had dinner at a ristorante with a few Australian backpacker types who were staying at my hotel. They decided to skip going to St. Peter’s (our hotel was about a 15-minute walk from the Vatican) but I was rather curious. I didn’t have a ticket to go inside St. Peter’s Basilica, but there was a large crowd of people in St. Peter’s Square watching the mass on giant TV screens. I’m not Catholic and I don’t know Latin or Italian, so I had no clue what was being said in the mass. (However, hearing Jesus referred to as a bambino and Mary and Joseph as Maria and Giuseppe made me laugh.) But it was really a magical night because of the festive atmosphere and the surreal factor of standing outside St. Peter’s on Christmas, staring at Michelangelo’s dome and standing in the place being watched by millions of Christians around the world.

The photos I have posted do not in any way convey what it looked like in person. The Basilica is lit at night in such a way that it appears to glow. And the Christmas tree and nativity scene (called a presepio in Italian) were so lovely and grand. There’s a long avenue that leads up to St. Peter’s and walking that half mile or so with this sight in front of my eyes is something I will never ever ever forget for as long as I live. When I first saw it I exclaimed “Ohhhh!” It just came right out of my mouth.

Around 2:00 a.m. the mass was still ongoing, but I was froze solid and needed to head back to the hotel, where the receptionist greeted me with a big slice of panettone. I took one video and another video, if you’re curious. And here’s a video of “It’s a Wonderful Life” playing on my hotel TV. I really don’t know why I filmed this. I guess I was so excited to see it on Christmas, even if it was in Italian. Christmas isn’t the same without it!

25 December, 2006 | 2 Comments

On this luminous Christmas Day, the glorious Duomo of Santa Maria del Fiore…one block from my hotel in the historic center of Florence. Go ahead and hate me, it’s okay.

This afternoon I took the train up from Rome. It was mobbed with people:

This was my Christmas lunch, a panini and bottled water from the train snack bar:

Don’t feel bad for me, this was delicious. Seriously.

I walked around Florence late this afternoon and this evening. It’s thick with tourists, but there weren’t many townspeople in sight — it was as if they’d been abducted and all that remained were hordes of visitors carrying digital cameras and guidebooks. It was like stepping into a terra-cotta horror movie. Creepy. As I was strolling around aimlessly, I glimpsed the sun setting over the rooftops and began to chase after it — a Florence sunset! On Christmas! I must say, it was worth the effort:

After this, I ate some minestrone soup to warm me up, the perfect ending to a bizarre and lovely Christmas. Since I can’t be at home, I’ll settle for this. Yup.

25 December, 2006 | Comments

Merry Christmas!

Joyeux Noël!

I took the train from Rome to Florence this afternoon. Christmas Eve was spent in St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican. More on that soon!

I hope you all have a glorious day. Here are a few images of Christmas in Rome, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Peace.

22 December, 2006 | 7 Comments

Do I like Italy so far? Hmmm. This morning at my hotel they gave me a bread roll for breakfast – with the option to spread chocolate all over it. How could anyone not like a country that counts chocolate as a breakfast food?

So I ended up having a fantastic birthday yesterday, but it didn’t start off well. I got about 20 minutes of sleep the night before, having to catch a cab at 4:00 a.m. (!) for the airport. I had decided to start packing around midnight, but first I had to do laundry, hence the lack of sleep. I then experienced the bumpiest 90-minute flight in recorded history. (Thanks EasyJet! BTW, having your flight attendants wear padded orange jackets doesn’t inspire much confidence – it appeared as if we were about plunge into the ocean at any moment.) We then landed at some sketchy airport out in the middle of nowhere (not the main airport) and I had to take a bus, metro and cab to get to my hotel. And there were children performing on the metro for money, dirty little street urchins with missing teeth playing the guitar and singing Christmas carols, without a parent in sight. And the little boy who fronted this roving band had the saddest eyes. So I had to experience heartbreak on top of sleep-deprivation, hunger and EasyJet-induced nausea. Happy Birthday to me!

Luckily, things only got better.

After resting up, I walked all over the center of Rome last night to see the floodlit sites, from the Colosseum through Campo de’ Fiori, the Piazza Navona, past the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain, to the Via del Corso and the Spanish Steps. It was really sorta magical. The Christmas tree in front of the Colosseum is something I’ll never forget – my first sighting of that is now imprinted on my mind forever. I plan to revisit these sights in the daylight tomorrow. I threw a coin into the Trevi Fountain; you’re supposed to wish that you’ll return to Rome, but I made two other birthday wishes instead. And you know, I really really really hope they come true before my next birthday.

After this I had dinner with a classmate of mine from Paris who is in Rome for a few days – not someone I know well, but I met up with her and a few of her friends for pizza at a wine bar and it was fun in the way that celebrating your birthday with virtual strangers can be fun sometimes – I’ve done this lots of times before. It was a strange birthday – but one I’ll never forget.

For me, Rome at Christmas is much better than Rome in the summer. I’m a little bit in love with it now. There aren’t really a lot of tourists here, at least compared to what it’s normally like. Believe it or not, I have actually run into three people that were on my flight from Paris. I saw one woman last night on the Via del Corso and a couple from the plane was at the Vatican this morning. So you see, I’m not lying about it being pretty tourist-free. I was up late last night, but I had to get up early this morning to head to the Vatican Museum, which is only open until 1:45 in the winter. I heard about having to wait for hours to get in, but I only waited about 5 minutes. Ahhhhh.

The high point of the Vatican Museum is, of course, the Sistine Chapel, which comes at the very end – after your feet are aching and you have to pee. I was more excited to see the Sistine Chapel than anything else in Italy, having been enamored of it on my last trip. Glimpsing the ceiling as you walk up the worn marble stairs at the entrance is one of those breathtaking moments in life, when the word wow doesn’t even come close. It’s the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever seen. It’s so beautiful I wasn’t even sure how to look at it. How do you take something like that in? It’s not possible. It was overwhelming, being in the presence of such beauty.

Photography is strictly prohibited in the Sistine Chapel because the company that financed the restoration owns the photographic rights. That’s just completely nauseating. There are guards scattered around the chapel and every two minutes they shout “No photos!” and “Silence please!” (only in English). Yours truly was feeling rather brazen today and managed to sneak quite a few photos. (However, I wasn’t quite as brazen as those taking photos with the flash.) If the guards see you taking photos, they scream at you; sometimes they even get in your face. Somehow, I managed not to get caught. And to my grand surprise, the photos came out perfectly clear. The light inside the Sistine Chapel is magnificent. You can see my photos of the Sistine Chapel and Rome here; this set of photos is a work in progress, obviously!

I couldn’t bear to leave the Sistine Chapel. I’d inch close to the door, then I’d stop and turn around. This went on for nearly 30 minutes. Finally, my neck started to ache so I left. How do you turn your back on that? In consolation, on my way out of the Vatican I passed a really hot priest – like, ahem, do a double-take hot (which he completely noticed; I’m sure he’s used to it). Will I go to hell for checking out a priest? As I walked back to the hotel, all I kept thinking was What a waste!

At the hotel I fell asleep and had sweet dreams of the Sistine Chapel and priests. All of Rome at my doorstep but I was completely exhausted and sleep deprived and I crashed, like one of those wind-up toys that suddenly stops and falls over. And I did nothing else productive for the rest of the day besides eat pizza. But I saw the Sistine Chapel. That’s enough.

[The view from outside my hotel. BTW, I don't have easy access to the internet at this hotel. I'm in the lobby with my laptop. The night receptionist is very amorous. Ever since I told him I like Paolo Conte, he's been rather affectionate. He's brought me drinks and panettoncino, he's innocently rubbed my back and given me two kisses. He told me I shouldn't wear my glasses and that I should find a young man because they are "not experienced" and this will be fun for me. He's been looking at my photos. He said that I should go to Amsterdam on my next trip. A direct quote: "In Amsterdam, people don't make photos. They make other things. Rome is boring." I think I'll sign off now and flee to my room...]

21 December, 2006 | 17 Comments

Happy Winter Solstice to us all!

It’s supposed to snow in Paris today, but I’m flying to Rome early this morning. I had a big long post all ready to go about birthdays and getting older and life in Paris and all that jazz, but I’ll save that for another time. Here’s me at 34, baby. 34! Yikes!

Ciao for now! [I haven't even packed yet. I bet I don't even sleep.]

19 December, 2006 | 8 Comments

I have to take my laptop with me to Italy. I need it for a few reasons and my friends and family want to reach me easily on my b-day (ugh) and Christmas. But do I blog from Italy? That is the question. In one way I want to, because it will force me to write about what I’m doing; I might not keep track otherwise. But then I don’t think anyone will be reading during the holidays. Thoughts?

19 December, 2006 | 6 Comments

This is probably a common problem for people who move to Paris, the culinary capital of the Western world. But the thing is, my clothes are too big. I’m shrinking. Today when I was packing up for the move, I found my bathroom scale conveniently hidden away in a dark corner. I stepped on it and gasped when I saw that I have lost weight since I last weighed myself a few months ago. I noticed that my clothes were getting a bit too big for me, but I assumed it was some sort of delusion brought on by the trace amounts of crack that I’m sure are in Nutella.

Y’all, I have been on an eating binge since arriving in Paris last September, so I do not know how this has happened. I am not supposed to be eating dairy products, but I didn’t let that stop me from eating croissants, pastries, tarts, you name it. Every day I indulge in a treat like this. There is a crepe stand at the end of my street! AT THE END OF MY STREET! On every block in this city there are patisseries filled with the kinds of desserts you could only find in high-end bakeries in the US and the UK. A few days a week I meet a classmate for lunch at the most yummiest sandwich shop ever, across the street from our class. We order ciabatta sandwiches and pear tart or an eclair. The food in this place is so good it could kill you. The other day another classmate joined us. She ordered a panini sandwich and once she started eating it, she drifted off into some weird zone where she just kept chanting this is so good. We couldn’t even talk to her until she was done. A middle-aged British couple were sitting at a table nearby. They had ordered about 5 desserts and were taking bites of each of them one-by-one. They had a glazed look in their eyes, a look I know too well. I soooo wanted to take a photo of them. I could have set off the flash right in front of their eyes and they probably wouldn’t have even noticed. It was hysterical. And did I mention this place isn’t even a proper café, just a little viennoiserie with a few scattered tables? By Paris standards, there’s nothing remarkable about it at all.

(more…)

18 December, 2006 | Comments

This is the last in the holiday shopping posts. This is a very special one for me because I want to recommend two books by women I studied creative writing with in graduate school. The fact that I studied with them is incidental, however, because I’d recommend these books no matter what.

The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel

This book was recently named one of the 10 Best Books of 2006 by The New York Times, so you know it’s fabulous — don’t just take my word for it. Amy’s four brilliant collections of short stories appear in this one volume. Her work influenced me tremendously when I first started writing and so it was a bit surreal to study with her. I interviewed Amy for an anthology of interviews with faculty members from my college. Here is how I attempted to sum up her writing in my introduction: “If you stacked up all of Amy Hempel’s books, her cumulative page count would not equal that of a contemporary doorstop novel. Inside her slim volumes, however, whole worlds are compressed into slivers of conversation and startling details, conveyed through her most exquisite use of language. In her stories, what is left unsaid, what lies just beneath the surface, is more powerful than pages of prose.”

In Case We’re Separated: Connected Stories by Alice Mattison

This collection was one of The New York Times’ Notable Books of the Year and is just out in paperback this month. The stories in this sparkling collection are linked in many ways; in fact, their structure imitates the 13 stanzas of a double sestina. Repeated words and tropes are used throughout these tales of a Jewish-American family. Alice was my thesis supervisor – can you imagine supervising the queen of meltdowns and drama during this process? (Luckily, I was highly medicated back then.) She went above and beyond her role as my professor in so many ways, becoming a mentor and advocate. Her books were among the few I brought with me when I moved abroad. I get lost in her language and marvel at her characters, especially the way she writes women. Her writing voice is so unique, so often funny, so Alice, that I can’t read her stories without actually hearing her voice in my mind. In Case We’re Separated is her most recent book, but I highly recommend any of her novels and collections.

16 December, 2006 | 2 Comments

This can’t be real?

**update** Here’s another one!

16 December, 2006 | 4 Comments

I’m afraid my guide to holiday shopping is completely useless. I’m going to share with you a few of my favorite books, but in all honesty, the average person on the street won’t want to read any of these. Sigh.

I’ve never actually been able to make a list of my favorite books. The stress of making such a list would keep me up for days (weeks?). But here’s a list of five of my favorite books, all published in the last 25 years or so (and excluding anything by writers I know!). Are these parameters specific enough for you?

Blindness by José Saramago

This novel by the Nobel Prize winner is one of my all-time favorites. It’s for hardcore lovers of literary fiction only. This is a dark and horrific book that is very difficult to read. In an unnamed European country (presumably Saramago’s native Portugal), one by one the citizens begin to go blind (a white, milky blindness). Society completely disintegrates as a result. This is an allegorical novel that defies any kind of precise description. The blindness in the novel will symbolize something different for each reader; to me it showed how we in the privileged West choose not to see in so many ways. I remember finishing this book, closing it up and having to sit for a moment to catch my breath. If you can get through it, you’ll be rewarded — and then some.

White Noise by Don DeLillo

I’m not a fan of those post-modern doorstop novels written by the likes of Foster Wallace and Pynchon. But with White Noise, DeLillo accomplished that rare feat — a thoroughly post-modern story that has heart. It’s a tremendously funny book — Jack Gladney is a professor of Hitler Studies (!) at a mid-western college; he lives with his wife Babette and their children from an assortment of marriages. A chemical spill — the “Airborne Toxic Event” — prompts Gladney to seek an illicit drug that eradicates the fear of death. It’s amazing how this satire — published in 1985 — so accurately predicted our current high-tech, psychotropic-drug dependent lives in the 21st century. [A former writing teacher of mine was a friend of DeLillo's and told us that he originally wanted to title this novel Panasonic, but was denied permission by the corporation. This writing teacher -- a very scary man -- was none-too-pleased that DeLillo backed down. He made us promise never to tell anyone this, but I just saw this same bit of trivia repeated on Wikipedia, so I guess it's safe now. Whew. For what it's worth, I like the title White Noise better.]

Beloved by Toni Morrison

This is an obvious choice, I guess. Everyone already knows this is a masterwork of the 20th-century and what can I possibly write about it? Few novels I’ve ever read have allowed me to experience the pain of the narrator in such a way — in this case, Sethe, a woman who escaped from slavery but is haunted by the ghost of her daughter. This is a difficult novel to read — on every level — but it’s a virtuoso book, with language so lyrical and musical it could be played on an instrument.

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore

I worship Lorrie Moore and every word she has written. Unfortunately for me, she apparently writes very slowly and hasn’t published a book since this one in 1998. I’ve read this collection of short stories so many times. It’s hysterically funny and lyrical and filled with spot-on observations about life. When I was deciding which books to send to London, it was the first one in the box. What more can I write?

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

Atwood’s feminist dystopia imagines an America taken over by far-right extremists. (Thank God something like this would never happen in real life.) The story takes place in and around Harvard Square, my old stomping ground. Widener Library plays a key role, though if memory serves, none of these places are ever specifically named. This is a brilliant political satire, a feminist version of 1984.

So there are five of my favorite books. Nothings says “Merry Christmas!” like stories about the complete breakdown of society, the horrors of slavery, cancer and a host of other miseries. Hmmmm.

I would like to recommend another book, Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. If you’re looking for a literary yet fun book (yes, such a thing does exist) this is a great one. I mean, okay, it is about murder, but then most people love murder mysteries. I had a raging crush on the main character of this book, a private detective named Jackson Brodie. (Yes, I do get crushes on literary characters. Shut up!) If you live in Cambridge, UK, you might resent this book’s rather vicious take-down of your fine city, but I thought it was hilarious. (At one point, Jackson wonders why the workforce of Cambridge is made up almost entirely of Australian teenagers.) I was so out of it in September when I arrived in Paris that I didn’t know Atkinson published a sequel to Case Histories called One Good Turn! Be still my heart. More Jackson Brodie! The second I found out I ordered it from Amazon UK (weeks ago) but it is lost somewhere in the French postal system. I wanted to take this book on holiday with me! I will attempt to find a copy of it somewhere in this city (for twice the price). The only downside to life in Paris — sucky English-language bookstores.

Though I haven’t read One Good Turn yet, I can almost guarantee that it — along with Case Histories — would make an excellent holiday gift.

15 December, 2006 | Comments

How to Move Out of a Paris Apartment

Originally uploaded by Anglofille.

I couldn’t bear to watch this for more than a minute. That ladder was so flimsy, death seemed imminent.

14 December, 2006 | Comments

I want to help you finish your holiday shopping and buy fabulous presents! So I’ve decided to inspire you with a series of posts on music, books and DVDs that would make lovely gifts. (Well, I guess they’d make lovely gifts if the recipient has the same taste as me.) Nothing I’m recommending is new — they’re all old, trusty favorites.

So today, the glorious world of music. I am a big fan of movie soundtracks. I like the eclectic mix of music and the high probability that at least 50 percent of the tracks will be good (which is more than you can say for the average CD). Also, I like writing while listening to music and it’s easier to write to instrumental — which is where movie soundtracks come in handy.

So here’s a list of some of my favorite movie soundtracks (with links to Amazon US because they have audio clips):

Amélie: The best. Perfect from start to finish. So romantic, so Parisian…

Portrait of a Lady: One of my top 5 faves, this is rather obscure (the Jane Campion movie starring Nicole Kidman is excellent and worth renting if you can find it). The Wojciech Kilar score is very brooding and cello-heavy. My favorite track is #11, Phantasms of Love.

Romeo & Juliet: From the Baz Luhrmann film, a fab collection of 90s pop songs (The Wannadies, Garbage, etc.). I never get tired of listening to this.

Gas Food Lodging: Obscure movie and soundtrack, but fantastic. Many nice instrumental tracks and a few rilly good songs, including one of my favorites, “Love” by Victoria Williams.

Gods and Monsters: The Carter Burwell score to this film is haunting and melancholy and luscious. Very hard to describe.

Orlando: From the movie starring Tilda Swinton, based on the Virginia Woolf novel. There are enough gems in this odd collection to make it a fabulous soundtrack. It’s worth buying just for track #12, The Maze.

Xanadu: Quintessential early-80s disco-inspired pop. The ultimate showcase for the goddess known as Olivia Newton-John. It also features Gene Kelly, Cliff Richard and Electric Light Orchestra. Not many soundtracks can make that claim! This is the first album I ever owned. I still have it and I still love every single song and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Some Kind of Wonderful: My favorite John Hughes soundtrack — and there are a lot of good ones. My favorite song is Stephen Duffy’s “She Loves Me.”

Kill Bill Vol. 1: Wonderfully eclectic soundtrack to the Tarantino film. I love “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)” by Nancy Sinatra.

Wonder Boys: A good mix of rock and R&B and generally soulful tunes — the first track, Bob Dylan’s “Things Have Changed,” is my fave.

Prelude to a Kiss: I don’t even remember this movie, but I’ve had the soundtrack for years and love it. A weird mix of romantic and flowery tracks mixed with the likes of The Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself.”

The Piano: Doesn’t everyone already own this?

I could go on and on, but I better stop now…

14 December, 2006 | Comments

On the short métro ride to and from school, I pass through four stations that have the word saint as part of their name. If I’m running late for class, I anxiously count them down…Saint Sulpice…Saint Placide…Once we’ve passed through all the saints I feel relieved and begin to gather my things. When I move to my new neighborhood in a few weeks, I’ll miss this little ritual.

13 December, 2006 | Comments

Today a girl from Colombia gave a report to the class on her country. She was very passionate and talked about the food and the culture and all the fascinating things to see. And, okay, most of us are thinking to ourselves cocaine, but no one is going to bring that up, right?

So while this girl is talking about how wonderful the cafés and the coffee are in her country, this bratty British guy in the front row raises his hand and says the French equivalent of: “When most people think about your country, all that comes to mind is drugs.”

And this prompted other people to ask questions, such as whether there’s a lot of violent crime there, etc. And this poor girl turns bright red. I swear, I was thisclose to flicking that guy in the head.

Then after class, I was treated to this lovely conversation:

Ditzy American Classmate: I’m going to Amsterdam this weekend! I’ve never been there. I’m sooooo excited.

Me: I love Amsterdam! Don’t miss the Van Gogh Museum.

DAC: Yeah, I’ll probably miss that.

Me: Well, you must visit the Anne Frank House.

DAC: I know this is awful, but I have no interest in seeing that.

Me: Why not?

DAC: I just don’t care about it. And the line to get in will probably be long.

Me: [momentarily speechless] Um, the Rijksmuseum is cool.

DAC: I’ve never heard of that.

Me: So what are you going to be doing then?

DAC: My friend and I are just going to stay in our hotel room and get high.

Me: Oh, I see. Wouldn’t you save a lot of money by just getting high in Paris?

DAC: [snarling] I want to see Amsterdam. That’s the whole point of going.

Me: You’re an ass. I hope you have a great time!

And while I’m on this rant, may I just state that the English-speaking students (regardless of what country they come from — we’re all just anglophones here) act more entitled, are the most confrontational and complain more than all the other international students I’ve met? So many of them are just bratty! Maybe I’m just being ultra-sensitive to it because their behavior embarrasses me. I don’t know. But I think many of them would benefit from a swift kick in the derrière.

12 December, 2006 | 2 Comments

Look at her go! She’s packing once again!

Woot!

In 2005, I lived in two different apartments in two different countries. And in 2006 I’ll just squeak through to better that record: Three apartments, two countries and…drumroll…this summer I was actually homeless for 6 weeks! Thank you, thank you very much.

I’m afraid that 2007 will be the same or even worse, but that’s okay. [I'm thinking of making a new blog category called "moving."] There are many facets of this lifestyle that are enjoyable and make the sacrifices worthwhile. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put myself through this. One day I’ll find myself in a place — or maybe not even a place, but sharing a space with another person — and I’ll suddenly feel that I’m home. One day that’ll happen, I think. I hope. One day.

But not yet.

12 December, 2006 | Comments are off

de Beauvoir and Sartre

Originally uploaded by Anglofille.