As Ferris Bueller would say...

Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

I feel like Parisians (and actually many of the people that I've met here) live life with that attitude. You see many a Parisian sitting outside a cafe by themselves with an espresso and c'est tout. No cell phones, no laptop, not even a newspaper. They are merely just sitting and enjoying their solitude and their surroundings. Or you'll see two people at a cafe sitting down to enjoy each other's company and they won't be constantly checking their phones every 5 seconds to see if something better is going on. All the parks here have hundreds of chairs where people can sit and appreciate the beauty around them. And they do. You don't see much of the sitting and appreciating in Canada I feel. Everyone's attitude is go, go, go. Get the coffee to go and check my emails on the go and walk to work head down, staring at the blackberry and ignore anything that's going on around you. Well one day, you're going to walk into a pothole and neither your starbucks nor facebook app will be able to save you.

I must admit that I am somewhat of a crackberryhead (you probs all know that) but I want to learn the Parisian's way of living in the now, in the present, and appreciate what's going on around me and not on a 2 by 4 plastic screen.

The South American's seem to have that down. Last night I was invited over to dinner by some Argentineans from one of my classes. We sat down to dinner around 9:30 and I was really surprised when they said it was almost 12:30. Save for holidays and special occasions and what not, I don't think I've ever sat at a dinner table for almost 3 hours. But they said that was normal for them, even at lunch time, to have long meals where everyone sits and enjoys each other's company.

The other problem with letting the time fly by like that is that not all services follow the leisurely pace rule. The metro closes at 12 here on weekends so I had to take a cab home from the 16e. However, there is nothing quite like taking a cab home with rain dripping down the window and the Eiffel Tower in plain sight for most of the trip. Beauty.

Fresh air. Take it in. Feels good right?

Emma Encounters the French Police or How - contrary to popular belief - Not Everyone Loves Journey

I had been in Paris for a month and Bailey and Novack were in town so I thought it was just about the right time to venture to the Eiffel Tower. We wanted to see the light show and were looking to not spend 120090 euros for dinner so we hit up Monoprix for some Parisian delicacies.

Baguette and brie? Check.

Jambon? Check.

Macaroons? Check.

Boxed wine and champagne? Check and Check.

We headed to the Parc Champ de Mars right behind the Eiffel Tower, found a nice bench, and sat down to enjoy our feast and the surrounding views. One box of wine and half a champagne bottle later and we were just loving life. We were in one of the best cities in the world and just saw the Eiffel Tower light up and sparkle. So obviously the next course of action was to sing Hakuna Matata. Then Can You Feel the Love Tonight. Then I start to bust out the opening lines of Don't Stop Believin' and it was all uphill from there. We were belting the chorus when we looked to the left and see three French policemen approaching us so I quickly stashed the champagne bottle behind the bench. The policemen came up to us and asked for our ids and where we are from. They told us that they could hear us from across the park. The following key conversations ensue:

Policeman 2: Is this your champagne bottle?

All three of us: Nooooooooooooo

Policeman 1: Are you allowed to scream and yell in Canada?

Bailey: In parks, ya.

Emma: Qui chantait le plus? La femme ou les hommes?

Policeman 3: La femme

Emma: Merde

Emma to policemen 2 and 3: Voulez-vous un macaroon?

Novack to anything policemen 1-3 ask him: Soy de Espana. Hablo espanol. No comprendo.

Eventually they gave us back our ids and let us be. They could tell that we were harmless and merely over-enthused students, just happy to be in Paris.

Even though I can see my mom shaking her head while reading this and I cannot wait to receive her email detailing respect for French law, it was a hilarious story, one for the memory books and definitely one for the blog, and I'm glad to have experienced yet another French public service.

How could you not like them? They are so pretty.

C'est Impossible!

Things that are impossible in Paris:

1. Finding an available cab

2. Finding drinks that are under 5 euros

3. Following the Atkins diet

4. Not loving every moment in Paris despite the fact that it's 4 am and you're lost with an empty wallet and pocket full of baguette crumbs

What the Merde

Parisians are known for their style, grace, beauty, and class but apparently this does not translate into an ability to clean up after their dogs. Maybe picking up poo is below them. It certainly is below me. Everywhere. My 20 minute walk along St. Germain to class every day consists of dodging crazed Parisian drivers and piles upon piles of poop. This becomes particularly annoying at 7:40 am on Wednesdays when I am on my way to my 8 am class, for I am already in a foul mood for rising before the sun. So I pray that the Parisians get their shit together and pick up their shit before the weather turns nicer when I wear my new leopard print flats and not my boots.

We may wear Pukesuits during our carnival but if we were smart, we would have chosen Pac Man costumes.

So no amount of time or effort will permit me to top Novack's post about my weekend of Spanish sprinting in Barcelona. His account is hilarious and all true except for one erroneous claim: he did not lose his camera. He left it to chill in the sand of Sitges beach for a couple of hours so sand got between the lens. He then attempted to turn on the camera which resulted in the lens getting jammed and despite my and the New Zealanders' objections and warnings, continued to press the power button repeatedly for 10 minutes so the sand kept getting more and more jammed. What a noob.

Spanish Itinerary

Wednesday night:

I arrived around midnight in Barcelona to one million texts from Orange on my phone about their great international deals (6 euros for 3 international texts - bonus!) and no cell phone service. I knew Novack's address but didn't know if I had to call to be let in but regardless I hopped on a Aerobus to Plaza Espanya then got in a cab to his street. The street numbers are very poorly labelled and my spanish was not as good as I thought it was so I couldn't really say much to the cab driver except for "Busco las once" (I'm looking for 11) which resulted in me and the cabby running up and down the street until finally success! Beautiful reunion times with Alyssa and Novack followed, and then it was blackout train time and club time and it was great until it was sleep time for we had to get up at 9 the next day.

Thursday:

Esade students organized a trip to Montserrat, a small town with a monastery on a mountain that is about 45 mins from Barcelona, so I tagged along with Novack and Alyssa. I think some of the Esade students thought I was doing an exchange there too; I'm really excited to see the group photos of us in Montserrat with the caption: "Esade students day trip". It was a beautiful sunny day and the views from the mountain of the Spanish countryside were incredible. First we went to the cathedral to see the boys choir performance which was really amazing. Then we had snack time and Novack and I polished off a bottle of wine so the hike that followed lunch was slightly tipsy. We found even better views as we hiked up the mountain and I realized how out of shape I am! Also Novack saved my life because he yelled at me not to pet a mountain kitty.

Upon returning to Montserrat, we went to Las Ramblas - a huge touristy street with attractions such as a pigeons in a cage - and to the market place - with attractions such as sheep heads and trotters. We bought deliciously expensive chocolate and trekked it to Barcelona beach just in time for sunset. That night, we dined on paella and tapas before drinking lots more wine and lots of shots at the infamous 500 shot menu bar called Chupitos. My favourite shot was called the boy scout in which they gave you marshmallows and then lit your shot on fire so you roasted your marshmallows on the flames then took a drink. After that we went to a club called Sutton and it was kind of like Queue Leu Leu Carnival 2009 for me, if you know what I mean.

Friday:

Tourists supreme! It was another gorgeous day in Barcelona so we hit up Parc Montjuic which includes the Olympic stadium and a fortress overlooking the Mediterranean...very nice! I was really craving limonata so I bought a Fanta limon. Huge mistake. NEVER EVER BUY A FANTA LIMON. I thought it would taste better with every sip but I was wrong. After Parc Montjuic, we took the metro to the other side of the city to Parc Guell and watched Jack Sparrow entertain a penguin with bubbles. We also went to la Sagrada Familia and were so inspired and moved by its impressive structure. However I then saw a more impressive structure in the distance and was drawn to its distinct golden arches. It was way cheaper to enter than la Sagrada Familia and it left me much more satisfied.

View of Barcelona and the ocean from Parc Montjuic

Above and below be Parc Guell

McLigion - our communion consists of fries dipped in McBrew

Saturday:

Carnival day at Sitges! Another gorgeous day! We arrived at Sitges around 12:30 pm and treated ourselves to a delicious breakfast of churros and hot chocolate aka melted pudding. We then met up with Novack and Alyssa's friends from New Zealand and chilled on the Sitges beach for 5 hours, drinking bacardi breezers, strongbow, and estrella beer while playing cards. The sun then set so it got pretty chilly. We decided to get sustenance at Burger King (what are vegetables?) and were sitting inside when all of sudden we look outside and there is a giant parade going past. We joined in the parade and partied through the streets of Sitges, dancing the entire way to the beat of the drummers in the parade. It was incredible as everyone was dressed up in costume: there were groups of smurfs, old ladies, Dharma initiative members, roosters, fire men, clowns, sheep, soccer players, Sims, horses, McDonalds fries, drag queens, cheer leaders...and so much more! After the parade, we continued to party in the streets and eventually made our way down to the beach where there was a giant beach disco with conga lines a plenty. It was honestly one of the most fun days of my life/night.

Drummers in the streets

Above and below be new friends

So all in all it was great weekend and I am most definitely returning to Barcelona when the weather is warmer to enjoy the beauty beaches. Novack arrives here tomorrow - and Bailey on Friday - so I expect equally ragetastic times here in Paris, with less drag queens perhaps.

Adios amigos.

Designer Duds: one step further towards becoming a true Parisian.

Ugh so today I braved glacial conditions and solo-trekked it to the Musee de l'orangerie to see Monet's Water lilies. After walking around the entire building with wind and snow whipping in my face, I arrived at the entrance to find a sign that read, "Ouvert tous les jours sauf le mardi". I was pretty pissed as not only had I paid 3.20 euros for the metro there and back, but also I had risked losing limbs to frostbite (yes, I'm well aware that Montreal is actually the Arctic right now but for dramatic purposes, it's pretty darn cold in Paris too). I guess that's just how life goes; some days it lets you appreciate beautiful art and other days life just wants you to stay indoors and drink tea.

So to return to my point of my previous blog post, it is A-OK to indulge in clothes when you find amazing vintage. On Sunday I went to the Bastille to a vintage store called Come On Eileen (Rue des Taillandiers, 11e arrondissement) and it was the most amazing store I've ever been to. There were Dior purses, Charles Jourdan shoes, Yves Saint Laurent jackets, Christian Lacroix suits, Hermes scarves, Burberry trenchcoats (sadly all men's though) and just racks and racks of beautiful clothes spread over three floors. The prices were not low but they were reasonable considering the clothes. I probably spent 2 hours in there browsing and trying on clothes. I ended up getting a Givenchy jacket, beautiful suede and leather shorts, a Celine silk blouse, and the most gorgeous Dior shirt (pics are below). I am a huge believer in retail therapy and when it's designer vintage retail therapy it's pretty much the greatest feeling ever as you searched hard for clothes you know no one else will have.

A million times better than Prozac

I also found an amazing Morrocon patisserie in the 5e on Rue Linne called La Bague de Kenza. I had a mhadjeb du fromage (it's like a panini with very thin pieces of naan-like bread with cheese in between), une fraise de pate d'amande (marzipan), and baklava but there was also delicious looking pastries with nuts and honey and more.

I am very excited as I'm going to Barcelona tomorrow night until Sunday to visit Monsieur Novack. I'm sure the weekend will be filled with lots of sightseeing and early nights and no drinking of any kind.

I will leave you all with this comment from my mother about my Paris facebook album: "Just looked at the photos, beautiful! Heartened to see there are more sightseeing pics than party ones". I'm making my mom proud, one facebook album at a time.

Indulgences or How I Will Spend All My Money by March 1, 2010

Paris is a city known for its food and fashion and I would be lying if I said that fact didn't have anything to do with my decision to do an exchange here. Treats and clothing are my two biggest indulgences so being in Paris bodes well for my closet and my stomach but not my bank account. Take for example the other day when Quade, my roommate, and I went out for lunch. I had the best french onion soup and the lightest, most fluffiest cheese cake. But our total came out to 63 euros. Granted, we were close to the Louvre where all cafes are pricey and we didn't want to resort to yet another baguette sandwich for lunch. Also, my limonade and Quade's coke were 6.50 euros (didn't know the price at the time of ordering...blast) so that definitely affected the total amount. But still...I am a student. I cannot afford to live like a baller. I must remember that indulgences should be limited; for clothing that means I indulge during les soldes and for food, I indulge like every couple of weeks slash choose restaurants that don't have plush red velvet chairs. That just screams expeasy.

These bad boys were only 1 euro.

Sadly, these were not.

Anyway I had a greater point to all of this when I started writing this post however I have completely forgotten it now.

This week, I met my Parisian friend Victor at our bar where he was out celebrating the end of exams with his classmates. I met a bunch of his friends; most spoke little to no English so I had a lot of chances to speak French. His girl friends proclaimed my attempts at speaking French "cute" and then asked me which guys there did I think were "cute". I don't know if they were just trying to start a conversation or if that's something they always ask each other. Regardless, we all had a mutual agreement on the cute factor of the boys there. I guess it's because good looks transcend borders and cultures.

The other night, after coming home from a Sciences Po party, I apparently thought I was like Carrie Bradshow and in my post-club state, thought it was a good idea to buy the last episode of Sex on the City on itunes. Unfortunately, I passed out before the episode was finished downloading however I did manage to finish my grilled cheese. Win.

Over the course of this blog post, I devoured the entire box of the chocoframboise cookies. I am ashamed. Bonne nuit tout le monde.

My weekend starts at 7 pm on Wednesday. As Martha would say: It's a good thing

Now here's a true icon.

I can't really complain about my return to classes as if I were back at McGill, I would be writing midterms right now. Between returning to Montreal and returning to the ER, I had a pretty good winter vacation that was slightly verging on feeling like a summer vacation. Also, if you hadn't guessed already from the title of this entry, I planned my schedule quite well. My sole class on Tuesday is International Economic Negotiations, which seems pretty interesting. I have three classes on Wednesday; Terror and Terrorism and International Macroeconomics are great and alright, respectively. And then I got to Population Dynamics and oh lordy did my enthusiasm about going back to school died right then and there. You know when noobs are giving a powerpoint presentation and read everything off of the slide but you're like "You don't need to do that...because I can read. It's how I got into university. Please do not reiterate your irrelevant statistics". Well that noob is my prof for this class. For those IB folks, she's the female version of Jan Jorgensan. And yes, I did consider playing the impossible quiz right then and there. But I do really like my other profs. One thing I like about Sciences Po is that they seem to hire competent profs aka profs that have real world experience that they can incorporate into lessons. For example, my negotiations prof worked for a number of years battling the lobbyists for tariffs in Washington and my terrorism prof recently gave a presentation to UNESCO. Also my friend's prof is the French minister of defense. I guess teaching is his casual side job.

Today between classes I went to le Marais which is incidentally both the gay and jewish district in Paris. I had a delicious but messy falafel then went vintage shopping. I found an amazing vintage store - not as good as Little Miss Vintage in Van but up there - where they were selling silk scarfs for 1 euro and purses for 5 euros. I also got this amazing beaded skirt for 10 euros. I will definitely have to return. I also booked my plane ticket to Barcelona and leave in one weeks time for inevitable rage times with Novack. I am very excited.

Also for all you cynics aka the 53% of you who voted I'd spend all my money by February 1, it is February 3 and my bank account is still in the black! However les soldes are still going on so we'll see how long my last 36 euros endure (only kidding, parents).

Well mega video should now let me watch the rest of Lost so I bid you all adieu. Peace and love.

Emma Goes to the ER or How Vitamin D Ruined My Weekend

So some of you may know about the cupcake incident, some may know about my serious lack of chugging skills, and some may know about the pill crusher but for the most part, you all know that I have a small esophagus and have trouble swallowing food and large pills for that matter. For whatever reason - most likely because I was feeling cocky and/or unusually health conscious - I decided to take a Vitamin D pill early Saturday afternoon just as I was about to leave my apartment. HUGE mistake. Before you know it, I was in my bathroom trying to force up the pill. It was most definitely stuck and no amounts of water or shock vomiting would get it to move. I called my friends and they came over, hoping to guide me through the process. However after six hours, many experiments about vitamin d dissolving in coke and water, and consultation with my friend's dad, a doctor, we decided to go to the ER. The hospital wasn't too far from my apartment but I was not in a good state aka throwing up like every 5 seconds. Highlight of the trek to the hospital: vomming into the Seine off the bridge right next to Notre Dame. The tourists were delighted, I'm sure of it.

We arrived at the hospital and yada yada mucho waiting in the waiting room. I was called in and they examined my throat while I - between spitting up - explained to them in French what happened. They determined that the pill would have dissolved by then so they sent me to another hospital just a 15 minute cab ride away where there was a throat specialist. She said it was a throat inflammation which was made worse by throwing up. They sent me home and I was hoping to wake up feeling hunky dory. Nope wrong again. I rested all Sunday but still could only manage to keep just a little bit of water down. Sunday night was torture aka I had a dream about McDonalds thats how hungry I was. This morning I woke up feeling even worse and I was super dehydrated so instead of going to my first day of classes I went back to the ER, almost passing out on the walk there. This time they gave me an IV (joyous liquids running through my veins) so I was finally able to gain back some strength. I stumbled back home with prescription meds in hand, still feeling slightly awful until about 230 pm when I was able to chug a glass of pineapple juice and keep it down! Miracles upon miracles. So now I'm just recovering and will hopefully be ready for my 5 pm class tomorrow. I'm slightly pissed because I had a bad weekend and missed the first day of classes but at least I can say that I am a true parisian as I experienced how the medical system works at not one but two hospitals! And I learned a valuable lesson: vitamins are inferior to eclairs. After all, a pastry would never put me in this condition.

PS. I cannot believe I went to the ER before Novack.