Hot Off The Presses

Probably the most exciting part of my summer was finding out I could read The London Paper online: more than just reformatted articles, the paper opens up with graphics and a cool little page turning animation that makes me feel a teensy bit like I'm back on the Tube, fighting politely for a seat and turning up my iPod when the lady over the loudspeaker gets annoying. They even email me the cover every day at about 10 AM, so I can make the mental decision, while I'm clicking over to read it, whether to also pick up the London Lite. (If the cover was boring or I had a long train ride, I would have picked up both. Of course, I can't now, because I'm not in England anymore. It's just a shallow mockery of my former life. Okay? Okay.) (note: the site doesn't really work in Safari, so switch to Firefox if you're on a Mac)

Today, though, I was a bit taken aback by the cover. Obama assasination plot?? Well, it was my first news check of the day. I haven't even finished my Red Bull or gone downstairs to peek at the newspapers or turn on the TV, so it was entirely possible this had happened. I immediately checked The New York Times Online, and then CNN.com. Um. Nothing.

The London Times is not The National Enquirer of the British World: it's also not hard-hitting or anything, but most people respect it. The afternoon papers are sort of aggregators of all the AP and Reuters stories of the day, combined with features on weird British people living in isolation who wear sweaters made of dogs' hair, and then the Lovestruck column.*

My Mom also had heard a tiny bit about it but there were no long articles to tell us more. I read in TLP about how some Neo-Nazis had been arrested at the DNC and were planning to kill Obama. Whaat? How come there wasn't information about this in an American newspaper? Mom offered up the idea that they were trying to keep this under wraps. I can see that widespread national panic isn't ideal, but hello? This isn't China. We deserve to know what's going on.

More on this, as the story develops.

*Lovestruck was my favorite part of TLP. People text or email small snippets about seeing people they fancy on the trains, buses, or the street. Then, the person who it's written about can email the paper and get a phone number if they want to meet the person in question. It's really cute because a lot of the people are very creative and write very touching stories. I'm pretty sure someone wrote one about Jess last year-- it described a ginge in a black coat on the way to Ladbroke Grove, where she worked. CAUUUTE!

ETA: Looks like it's on Perez, which makes it true. Hmm.

Hard for the Money

In order to keep busy, pad my resumé, meet new people, and try to forget that nearly all of my friends are gone or not from Chicago, I took two jobs. Technically, it's more like 3, and technically I'm only getting paid for one. Come, take a walk and hear my stories.

One of the gigs is helping a pod and vidcaster with her show. Here's a video we did a few days ago to test out UStream.tv for their live feed. I'm in the clip on the left.

My official paid internship in the city is going really well so far, for the first two days. I got thrown completely into the deep end with doing work. It's extremely satisfying to be on Photoshop for 4 hours without a break.

One of my proudest moments was watching the two account interns at the front desk act as receptionists and make copies. Been there, done that, my friends. IN FRENCH. AND BRITISH. I just sort of peeked over my screen, taking a break from resizing an ad, to watch them troop in and out to use our huge copy machine.

Working in the city is absolutely fabulous and I love it. The commute, it is not fun. An hour is much longer than a typical day's journey in London or Paris (A typical day. I'm looking at you, fucking grève.) My office is right off Michigan Avenue, which makes it similar to my Paris office's mere steps from the Arc de Triomphe. It's fun to be central, but it's not fun to be tripping over tourists and hillbillies in from the countryside. I tend to walk super fast and dodge people, looking like a total bitch in my sunglasses and headphones. Whatevs.

Tomorrow is a big festival day in Chicagoland, and I have a few plans in the pipeline. Pictures and more stories to come, I'm sure.

Don't Spend Your Life Waiting For Cupid And... That Other Guy

Thanks to the AdLand blog, I was able to find all of Match.com's "Cupid and Fate" ads in one place. I first noticed them when I got to London and took the Tube. They are really well done: Cupid is hilariously fat and disgusting, and Fate is always making a crazy face. As another blogger points out, I'm not really sure where they got the idea of putting "Fate" in a business suit and black cape. Come to think of it, I have no idea what Fate would look like.

Either way, I enjoy looking at these every time I'm crammed into an overcrowded and (who designed the Tube cars?) sloped-ceilinged cage.

Little Things I'll Miss About Paris 5

Impromptu walks through the city. Like this weekend-- I went to dinner with two friends at a terribly touristy but terribly good fondue place (you drink wine out of baby bottles... aha! So you have heard of it!). Then after, we did the abridged Amélie tour through Montmartre. Even though it was freezing cold.

Or yesterday, when I tried to take the métro from Opéra to Concorde and then to Sèvres-Babylone... There was some sort of problem (someone left a bag on the platform, I think), so we all got herded to the exits. Instead of waiting around or walking just one stop down, to Pyramides, I did the relatively short walk to Concorde.

I meandered down the Rue St-Honoré, passing Colette (coolest. store. ever.) and stopping off at the Place Vendôme for a picture of the Ritz. I doubled back down the Rue de Rivoli for some bags of Angelina hot chocolate for the people at home. Then it was off to Bon Marché-- specifically, the Grande Epicerie-- for the rest of the afternoon.

Last Monday in Paris!

Ma Vie en Merde

Ever been mowed down by a Parisian biker in the bike path, coming at you with the dinky bell ringing, little light flashing menacingly, and with screams of "ATTENTION!! BORDEL!" sounding in your ears?

Nope, me neither. But that's because I am SMART. I stay far away from the bike path. Some other folks, not so much.

Especially now, with the time of grève upon us, I know waay better than to trespass on sacred ground. I pity the tourists who see a long, smooth, empty bike path and think, "Hey! This is great! More room for my enormous suitcase to coast! No cobblestones! Neat!"

Because, inevitably, the tourist gets forced off the road by a crazy bike rider. I don't really blame the bikers: they have to deal with some serious shit from the motorcyclists and scooter(ers?) who park on the sidewalk and then roar off into the open bike lane until they can dismount onto the street. It makes sense bikers would take out their frustrations on people who stray onto their turf.

My only problem with bikers is when they can't decide whether they belong on the road or the bike path (ex. like in Boston, where bikers will run into you while you're crossing the street, because they bike on the road but don't stop at lights or signs like drivers do). Also, during this time of grève, the bikers have started overtaking the pedestrian sidewalks. Not cool, dude.

Stick with the buses, is what I say! I didn't wait for any today, but I still managed to get on two. The one this morning went speeding past me as I was on the way to the metro, so I basically flat out sprinted back to the bus stop and got on, no hassles. Then, this afternoon, I finally got off the 1 metro at Bastille and took the 65 bus. It was slowly approaching as I got outside. Nice.

I also have to say that, even though this strike is seriously killing my will to be a full-time worker, it's the only time I've ever seen Parisians smiling at strangers. Weirder still, there's much more talking and laughing with strangers than I would have imagined. People know this strike is ridiculous, and they also know what they are forced to do (ex. standing spooning with everyone around you) is stupid. So most of them make light of it. I think it's making my commute a bit easier.

That being said, if one more asshole jams behind me as the doors close, I might cut a bitch. That is all.

Social Movement...

... My arse. All I know is, when it takes me two hours to get to work because some lazy dudes don't feel like doing their jobs, I don't really feel like supporting their cause.

The grève is on again, blah blah... I walked for 45 minutes after the initial hour-long wait for the train that got me that far, because I couldn't bear getting smushed into another metro. Worse is waiting for three to pass by before I could get smushed in. Both things happened today, of course.

New plan of action: buses. I don't know what it is about the buses, but every time there's a strike, I seem to find one within 20 minutes or so (not unreasonable), and I am usually able to sit or at least stand comfortably. The metro is full of heinous people, like men who aren't afraid to elbow women in the face (really! I saw it happen!) for two square inches of room on a cattle car. Bof.

I can't wait until this damn "social movement" is over... and quit with the euphemisms, guys. It's a glorified vacation from reality.

More About the Metro

I love riding the metro, contrary to popular belief and previously-expressed sentiments.*

I am an advertising person: I consider myself a student of standing around and looking at ads on the metro. For me, it's especially exciting here in Paris because the ads can change overnight. Sometimes, a big campaign will launch without any notice, and a seemingly boring morning commute turns into a parade of images for me.

A few days ago, an ad went up for the Flemish tour board. The subject (Flanders? Snore) isn't very interesting. The ads, though, are photo-montages with beautiful women and jewel tones. I absolutely love them.

Yesterday, an Orangina campaign launched. The posters? Are hideous. The tagline is something about Natural flavors or taste, so naturally they feature animals and plants with lascivious grins, sitting on melting blocks of ice. Sipping Orangina. (This is a screencap from the website)

When I first got to Paris, there were some great ads for the transportation lines of Ile de France. They showed people living with their cars, who were angry at them for the neglect.

The way the ads are displayed are very interesting, as well. For the most part, they are billboard-sized and fitted into curving frames lining the walls behind the tracks. Commuters waiting for trains to arrive are nearly forced to look at the ads because of their size, proximity, and color.

Last month, there was an ad for EDF with a new feature called "Blue Sky." Their ads were presented in stages. The first day had ads with people going about their daily lives, with a patch of bright blue sky integrated somehow. There was no text. The next day, there was something written about finding your "blue sky." There were also people at some of the metro stations handing out brochures in the shape of the blue sky with more information about the company. The last day, the full ad with complete text was released. I was in love.
I also love how taking the metro keeps me up-to-date with events in Paris. Thanks to riding the metro, I found out about the 30 euro discounted Disney ticket. I also hear about museum openings, concerts, festivals or fairs (like the Salon du Chocolat), and new CDs coming out.

It's extremely interesting to see how the ads get put up. A man shows up with his overalls and a big squeegee sort of tool. He quickly and efficiently wipes down the back of the big poster with something (water? glue?), and then uses his tools to push the poster up, spread it out in sections, and fix it to the frame.

So, despite the shit I've had to put up with (strikes, smells, SDFs, beggars, commuting time, lack of comfort and space), I truly don't mind the metro. I'm still going to pretend like I hate it, though-- it's more Parisian.




*Obviously, if I could afford to take a cab to school every day, I would. If I had the stomach (as well as the money) to ride a scooter, I would do that, too. So I guess it's good I don't mind the metro.

It Doesn't Make Scents

Okay, I'm prepared to eat my words... Taking the 8 line home from school at about 5:45, I smelled something... terrific... when we stopped at Invalides. At first, I thought it was a lady getting on with some amazing perfume, but the smell disappeared when the doors shut. I marvelled silently for a while, until we got to Madeleine. Again, the smell.

I'm ready to admit something I never thought I would: The metro smelled excellent today.

There, I said it.

Eau d'Urine

Now you, too, can smell like your favorite metro station!

Choose from Louvre, Concorde, Madeleine, and Etoile.

When the Grève goes Merde

The grève. At first I was sort of excited for it, because my class got cancelled on Thursday. Then I was sort of amused by it, because I watched the news with Madame and saw screaming citizens waving flags in the air because they think their retirement is threatened. Then today, I was seriously pissed about it.

I was supposed to go to Disneyland Paris; ticket was bought and ready to go. It was a special "Francilien" price, meaning it was 30 euros because I "live" in Ile de France.

After setting out 45 minutes before I was supposed to meet Caitlin, I (optimistically) decided to take the bus to Chatelet. One actually came after about 15 minutes, and it wasn’t super crowded and the bus driver was rather nice. Most of the people riding with me were pretty tense—they all seemed to be determined to try and be nice, and to not sweat the small stuff. Because getting mad at the entire staff of the SNCF and RATP is not very useful.

There were a lot of terse conversations on phones—"Oui. Je suis dans le bus. Oui. Je sais. Oui." When we got to Chatelet, I ran down to the RER and joined about 100 other people there. The only (cheap) way to get to Disney is to take the commuter train. Private shuttles or taxis run in the 100 euro range, and I couldn’t think of anything else at such short notice. Eventually, there was an announcement that NO train—the man was sure to pronounce AUCUN very carefully—would be coming to my RER line today. So.

Caitlin and I gave up and I decided not to head home and sleep. Instead, I walked to the Pompidou (closed), and then across the Ile de la Cité to the Musée de Cluny.

I’ve already been once, but I remember loving the museum of Medieval art. It houses the extremely famous "Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries. And best of all, it’s free to me (thanks to my art history student ID).



I walked around for a while, taking pleasure in the almost completely empty place. The building itself is beautiful, and the museum has a ton of really interesting things in addition to the usual sculptures and fabrics. I enjoyed the pilgrim tokens, the shoes, and the stained glass from various churches in England in France. Of course, the best part is seeing the "Lady" tapestries, and I’m glad I went back. I got a copy of "Tristain et Iseut" in French on the way out, because I was in the mood for something Medieval-y.

After walking around in circles for literally another hour, I finally ended up back at the CGP and bought myself lunch inside. The chicken tandoori sandwich? To die for. I decided to skip the actual museum (too crowded), and tried to walk home.

I tripped into a cooking supply shop by Les Halles, where I bought mini tarte molds and a dough cutter thing. When I finally got home (I tried to take the metro, which didn’t come. Then I realized I was right around the corner from the Porte Saint Denis, from which I did the long, straight walk back to the Gare de l’Est), I made tomato tartes. And? They are deelish. So I guess everything worked out.

En Grève

Today, during class, I found out the transportation services of Paris (the RATP) will be having a general strike on the 18th. What does that mean?

As far as I can tell, I won't be able to take the metro (which is bad, considering I live 30 minutes away from my classroom building), I won't be able to take a bus (even if they are running, they will be completely impossible, with all the other commuters), and taxis are trop cher, and will most likely be impossible. So.

I guess I'll figure out a way to rent a bike, or just leave suuuper early and plan on walking across most of the city. We'll see.

It just strikes me as bizarre that these organizations would go to the trouble of announcing a strike nearly a month in advance (I think the press release was issued the 28th of September), and not just try to work something out between then and now. Or else just, uh, strike right away.

It is kind of considerate, to give us all some notice.

Thanks?

l'Ecosse and the Metro

Last night, I went to a bar by the PIP to watch the France v. Scotland game. Och Aye was it great!

We all liquored up (demi-fraise for moi: half beer, half strawberry syrup) and watched front row as France dominated but Scotland eventually won on the big screen.

I learned some new words from the guys at the next table (as well as the proper pronunciation for "bordel"), and then I got happily on the metro to go home.

While I was standing there, holding onto a pole and utilizing my bitch face, I noticed a Scotland fan in kilt and jersey. He was so drunk his eyes were unfocused and he could barely keep his balance (while seated), but he was still talking to the Irish man next to him. A beautiful Parisian woman leaned over to ask him, in French, who won, and I told her it was Scotland. The Scot murmured something about how he didn't know how, and how he had been thrown out during halftime, and something about "fucking Frenchies," and I translated some of it for the French lady. The Irish man listening to the Scot complimented my French, and I thanked him. The Scot kept muttering to himself in his crazy brogue, and I tried to stop staring at his wine-stained shirt.

When I got off at my stop, the Irish man and I started walking together, and we got to talking about where we were from. He was an Irish guy with an English accent living in Paris, and working in advertising production. It was a totally uncreepy and pleasant walk home, and I left him at his hotel and went right into my building.

It was nice. Not everyone who takes the metro tries to rape you with his eyes.

Tomorrow I have an enormously huge interview for my future internship in November. The company I'm interviewing with is pretty well-known, and even though my supervisor is American, the whole job is (hopefully) in French. That means I need to go over all the vocab tonight, as well as remember to bring my portfolio and CV tomorrow. Of course, all this is scheduled for right after a 5 hour cooking class at one of the professor's houses, so I will also have to bring my entire outfit (suit? collared dress? I can't decide) with me and hope I can get across town in 20 minutes.