I Still Feel Like a Foreigner...

The last few days have been insane. I've done dinner at the director of the program's house, a bateau mouche, academic placing (I'm in the top level, thankyouverymuch), several bars, and a long dinner at a crêperie which included jugs of cider and climaxed in me drinking cheap wine by the seine in the shadow of the Notre Dame. Well, the shadow was mostly cast by a big old Batobus roaring past with its headlights on full blast, but you know...

This morning alone was strange. I'm still figuring my way around, métro-wise, so I chose to leave just early enough to make sure I could get to the PIP on time without being 45 minutes early (that was for my second day. My third day merited more mature timing). I'm also adjusting to the strange unwritten métro rules.

For example:
-Do NOT make eye contact with any man, especially one who looks menacing and/or aggressive, because that is an invitation.
-Do NOT smile or laugh or show any emotion, other than sullen resillience.
-Under no circumstances can you look at a performer/musician/bum who is around and may be soliciting money, because that means you literally have no choice but to pay him.
-Peeing, smoking, making out furiously, and sleeping on the ground are all completely normal underground, and it is YOU who is narrow-minded for thinking (or hoping) otherwise.

I also added a book to my now huge bag so I have something to do if I can't force myself not to look up at gaze at people. It's such a habit for me to stare, and here if I do that and get caught staring? It's apparently not good.

After I made it to the PIP we had a dégustation of all sorts of French food and pastry. I was also handed a glass of rosé on the way in, which doesn't go down so well before a morning coffee. Half of the kids were still wearing sunglasses, and were huddled down in their seats. I left the bar after midnight to share a taxi home, but I guess not everyone was as prudent.

The food itself was wonderful, and I'm coming out of the closet as a paté lover. I sort of started hording slices of bread with some spread smeared on top. I also learned how to pick out a cheao (but good) bottle of wine. I practiced in the grocery store on my way home, and now I have a nice 2 euro white chilling in my frigo.

We also had to do a sort of scavanger hunt after class: we were assigned groups and quarters, and sent forth to photodocument everything on a list.

JM, JD, and I spent 2 or 3 hours getting lost in le Bastille and LOVING it. It's really a cool place, and I most likely wouldn't have gone through it if I hadn't been forced to. We found some really teeny bars we're dying to visit, and the tiny streets were clogged with comic book stores and secret passages. There's also a garden on a raised railroad track. I'm sure only locals know about it.

Most of the presentation is finished, thanks to our meeting right after at JM's place, and now I can relax and not worry about getting it done.

I got home with veggies and my cheapo vino, expecting to cook myself dinner, but Madame invited me out to dinner. It was at a friend's place across the Canal; a beautiful, amazing loft with a huge terrace overlooking the chimneys of the 10th. After a seriously awesome meal (and just a plain old serious champaign buzz), there were some eh... family dramas to sort through. I in turn did the dishes and listened sympathetically until I was given some tea and two kisses, and left to go home.

And I'm exhausted.

Tomorrow we're meeting a few alumni in Paris to talk about the internship program (one of them might grant me an interview, if I look sharp and talk snazzy), and then it's Paris je t'aime in the Latin quarter, followed by a crêperie and mucho cidre (j'espère).

Pictures from the last few days on my flickr stream.