La Vie en Clothes...

My underwear is hanging in the kitchen.


And not just the little lacy numbers, but ALL of it. I came home from school today to see Ole Saggy Butt, ElastaGone, and OHmyGodIforgotIwasWearingtheseNoYouMayNOTPassSecondBase, otherwise known as the Libido Assasin, waving in all their glory right above the kitchen table. I want to die. I could have held my hand over my heart and recited the Pledge of Panties there were so many of them there. How did they get there, you ask? Good question. Je t'explique.


My host mother Liliane, who is very nice and very maternelle and fantastic in all ways and I really do love her, LOVES to do things for me. Which is great. She makes my meals even though she doesn't have to, packs me a lunch, shops for my favorite things, cleans my room, leaves me flowers on my desk... she's wonderful. She also does my laundry. Which is great! However, she must have noticed in the course of re-folding my clothes (which is like a daily-basis thing) that I have been stashing away my used underwear and was going to secretly wash it myself with Maddie when we had a decent amount piled up. Seeing as the two of us packed a combined total of 232,543,534 pairs of underwear to preclude having to do wash at ALL, this was going to be a while. And seeing as I've been here for 3 weeks now, it was a decent sized pile of underwear. Now, I don't really have a problem with people touching my underwear. HOWEVER... In the course of staying here for over a week now I noticed that like many French people Liliane 1, does not believe in fabric softener (great for exfoliation) and 2, does not own a clothes dryer. Nor is there space for a drying rack, or a laundry room. The result? A clothes washer in the kitchen under the microwave and household drying racks (so practical!) which include doorknobs, chair corners, fan blades (my personal favorite) and newly discovered today, ON THE KITCHEN LAMP.


Rule 11: Find a better spot to hide underwear.

Bienvenue chez les LeMoens

Saturday began with the usual light doorbell ring, and the quiet rusling of a plastic bag that signals breakfast now hangs appetizingly from your doorknob. Luckily Alex and I woke up 3 hours before our taxis arrived. It took over an hour to finish packing, because somehow our clothes have expanded to a tremendous size and no longer fit into our suitcases. Great. I called and reserved a taxi for another girl and I... And after waiting about 45 minutes I was forced to call another. It ended up being rather fortunate that we were some of the last. The taxis lined up and got stuck in the driveway of P&V, and in case you were unaware, the meter runs from the moment you call the taxi to the moment he takes your bags out of the car. So some unfortunate kids got stuck with a 25euro charge before they had even left the hotel. Soo obnoxious. I think ours was 9ish. The taxi ride took about 25 minutes to go from the 18th to the 14th arrondissment, which is basically from one end of Paris to the other. Not too bad, seeing as that's where Maddie lives. I arrived at my new home and had a mini-heart attack when no one answered cell or home lines. I was ready to grab the next person on the street and ask them if I could move in when they FINALLY answered me. Turns out my homestay father is a little forgetful, which Lilian his wife will remind you several times a day. After popping open a bottle of champagne to celebrate my arrival, Lilian made me crepes and told me lots of stories. She LOVES to talk.


So there they are, Lilian and Alain LeMoen, my homestay family. Their appartment is quaint and Parisien in a very quite, but convenient neighborhood in Montparnasse. Everything I could need is within walking distance, except the Internet. Meh, no big deal, I just have been reading alot. Lilian, who is 68, buys tons of fashion magazines and leaves them on my bed when she has finished reading them. Alain her husband gets bossed around quite a bit but is incredibly kind and charming, just as you'd expect your typical French grandfather to be. My room is fantastically large, and well-lit, with a big desk, a piano, and closet space. I need books, for I am without TV or Internet.


Yesterday I felt a little homesick for the first time... mostly because I had spent the whole day trying to get used to being alone. I decided to go to the Louvre and walk around for several hours, which was incredibly overwhelming but certainly worth the effort of fighting the crowds. Then I walked around the Marais, the gay/Jewish district of Paris for about an hour, just to see some of the ridiculously priced couture there. It's worth window shopping. Then I returned to Montparnasse to get used to my streets a little bit more. All in all, it was a full day with lots of walking...


So now I'm at my Student Center enjoying the Internet in all it's glory. I missed celebrity gossip, and email, and gofug, and facebook... :) But not too much. I know I signed up for a change of scenery, so it's actually a little refreshing to be so out of my comfort zone. I'll get used to it, learn French, and hopefully acquire some cute clothes in the process.


I've been eating all afternoon to make up for my lack of meals yesterday (sans champagne and crepes) so don't worry Maman I'll still be nourished by the time you get here!!


Bisous de Paris!

Rule 10.

So Maddie's plans for the night ended up being a pub crawl around Paris. It was actually a beautiful walk, because we crossed the Seine at night. To one's left is an absolute beautiful view of the river, where the lights from the street make it look like fireflies live underwater (hah) and to one's right is the Cathedral Notre Dame. Amazing. It was an interesting night, we started out at relaxed pubs, and ended up at some very popular bar called OSullivans... Where I'm pretty sure Maddie told the DJ that she was in love with him. Requested American Boy. :)It got played. Along with David Guetta. Haha, very fun "unclub" experience of Paris. Unnnnfortunately we had to walk home, and thankgodforDustin he knows exactly where he is at all points of the night. Needless to say we made it home safely and in less time than I had assumed it would take. I'm sure I whined the whole way. I thought we were somewhere completely new. On my walk to school however, I passed it... just like I do everyday. Oops. It was a fun night, our last night at Pierre et Vacances, however. soo sad :( I know I'm going to miss that.


Oh right, rule 10, brought to you in part by Alex Roem:
Always close your eyes when someone is pouring liquor in your mouth.

Some things never change...

Last night Alex and I took a sanity break and stayed in, watched Zoolander and ate drug pudding. No, it's not really drug pudding, but the pudding here is so amazing. It's addictive. Maybe it does have drugs in it... Maddie came back early and Alex left to go visit (apparently I'm the antisocial one here) and the two of us passed out by 11. Then came the intermission of my sleep when I had to attempt to explain what my turbie twist was at 2am (thanks Chels). Girls' nights are the same all around the world.


Maddie has big plans for the night; however, she is the only one who knows about them so far. I'm off to attempt to find some eyedrops at the pharmacy. I think I inherited dry eye from my mother. My eyes have been bothering me since I got here. Maybe it's being in the city, and I'm just not used to it. I'm going to need my dictionary for this one. I don't want to come back with an enema. gross.

An inconvenient truth, rule number 9

So last night we went as a large group = ughhhhhhh... out to a bar to celebrate some girl's 21 birthday. The bar, Footsie, was super chic and populated with good-looking, young, single french men. It had an interesting concept - it worked like the stock market. You watch the screens to see which drinks are in low demand, so the price drops on them. Then avoid the more expensive, popular drinks. You've got to buy when the price is right, so we ended up with way more than we wanted. However, Maddie and I, who remained at the bar for the whole night because 1. we are inseperable and totally in love and 2. we have peeinyourpantsfun wherever we go, only brought 10 euros each to spend. SO, naturally, when some french guys bought us champagne and my new favorite beer Desperados, which is beer with tequila, we couldn't say no. it's rude. I'm sure we'll eventually get back to that bar, but tonight we're doing the i'mtotallybrokeandsad thing and staying in to watch zoolander.
therefore, rule number 9.

Rule number 9. Only bring out as much money as you are willing to spend. Then get someone to buy drinks for you.

my fav thing to do in the mornings is to open my window and listen to the markets and cafes open while i drink my tea and watch french infomercials. gahhh i love paris.

Rule number 8

MADDIE SAW SOME MAN'S WEE WEE ON THE METROOOOOO
Rule number 8. DO NOT under any circumstances whatsoever, sit next to the smelly bum on the metro. I was NOT present for this adventure, thankthelordjesus, so instead i'll insert a blurb from Maddie's blog and so she doesn't get pissed you can read her blog too at binksinparis.blogspot.com. Here:

On the Metro (train) back from classes my friend Alex and I sat in the back of the train because there were like 8 seats. I was thinking, "Why isn't anyone sitting back here? Why are they standing if there are empty seats?" As soon as we sat down I figured it out.... this was more than just a woke-up-late-couldn't-shower-scent. This was more along the lines of too-poor-to-pay-for-water-scent. It was awful. He was dirty. And out of the corner of my eye I see rapid movement, so out of reflex I turn to look, and he is practically displaying it for Alex and I to see. gahhhhh..... it was revolting.

Always remember rule number 8.

napoleon complex

So last night we decided to go see the Eiffel Tower all lit up at night. It's blue at first, and then sparkles like a disco ball! We were all so excited when it started to sparkle... it's incredible. Go figure, the french would do that. Then we spontaneously decided to go to l'arc du triomphe and the champs elysees, which we thought were relatively close, but then, as always, we ended up walking FOREVER... but we managed to NOT get flattened by Paris traffic and behold the ENORMOUS arc du triomphe. for real, it is so incredibly large I had no idea. Pictures cannot relate. You must see it yourself.
For anyone planning on traveling to Paris, here are a few rules which I have learned so far.
1. don't talk on the metro. ever. and especially not english.
2. use your towels lightly because they only get changed once a week
3. do not eat bread for every meal.
4. invest in self-cleansing materials/you will have to give up your firstborn in order to do wash
5. everything is better in paris, including the dubbed over american tv shows, but not the nanny
6. women do not wear sneakers, ever. shopping = cardio and it is performed in heels or stylish flats
7. pack for weather that is 20 degrees colder than what you think.

Write those down. It took me a week, and I'm sure there will be more.
Bisous.

PARIS!

Clearly I am terrible at keeping up with my blog. Sorry guys. I promise I'll try a little harder this time. So, yes, I am finally in Paris after traveling for 294,543,764 hours, and ohmygod I'm so in love. Riding home from the airport to the cute little hotel where we are staying for two weeks was probably one of the most exciting times of my life. I may have taken 45,565 pictures in that fifteen minutes alone. Our hotel is tres charmant, and I love my roommate Alex, who is from Jersey and knows my roommate Andrea's best friend Christine (small world) My outings around Paris are usually with Alex and Maddie, the Chicago form of me, but with better hair. Everywhere you look there is something to take a picture of, something exciting happening, some awesome/crazy/weirdo outfit. Just the other day I was riding on the metro with a man singing Que Sera and Guantanamero for some money... reminded me of my family, and I almost started crying right there. BUT I didn't, haha.
I like our living situation as it is, because there is always someone around to talk to or to go out with. However, I'm ready to STOP speaking English!!! Sometimes we try to speak in French... but we end up going back to English.
So the other day we took a cruise on the river Seine. We had to take the metro there - by the way, the metro is GREAT. So easy to use/understand and CLEAN but please for the love of GOD DON'T TALK ON THE METRO. Seriously. French people don't talk on the metro. At ALL. And if you do talk, you're probably an obnoxious American.

Anyway, we came out of the metro station and.... there it was. The Eiffel Tower!! I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up a little bit. It hardly seemed real to finally be here. In fact, it still feels just like a vacation, although we all agree we feel like we've been here for a month rather than a week. It's not that time passes slowly, but that from the remaining jet lag, the constant walking... it's tiring.
Back to the cruise. It was touristy, clearly, and there was a French couple making out in front of me, but the cruise had other highlights as well. We got to see the Louvre, the Musee D'Orsay, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, etc. It basically hit the big highlights of the city.
I finally quit trying to live out of my suitcase and unpacked today. Only to have to pack again on Friday, but I was driving myself nuts!
Saturday we took a day visit to a chateau called Vaux le Vicomte, which we learned was actually just a house built by some rich guy. Then Louis XIV got jealous that his house was better and had the man arrested and kept him in jail while he redecorated and moved into his newly usurped real estate. Now's it a museum and it's beautiful.
Saturday night's festivities included mingling among the French at local bars... but our favorite place is still Cafe L'epoche, located, yes, tragically, in the Moulin Rouge district...(I'll tell you about it later) but populated with hip, young French people who LOVE karaoke. When the occasional English song comes on, we LOVE it. We've already sang twice... once Spice Girls. C'etait branche (trendy) and very fun, malgre qu'il est dans le district louche.
Our hotel is perfectly located, and I feel very safe walking with my friends. We are right next to the Sacre Coeur, which is not only a beautiful church but holds an amazing view and is a hot hangout spot for young French kids.
Yesterday we bought our first monthly metro passes which means that I can FINALLY start wearing heels... haha. Our language classes start today and for some godforsaken reason I ended up in the advanced section, so at 2pm I'll be trying to convince myself that I can actually speak French. I must admit though, if only out of necessity, my French has improved greatly already.
I have class everyday this week from 2-5 and that's it. So hopefully I'll have some time to blog around.

I hate Airports.

I will never understand the people who claim to love airports. You’ve got to be kidding me. Please, tell me the appeal, because honestly, ever time I’m at an airport I feel like I’m a fish in a plastic bag. It’s uncomfortable, a little hard to breathe, I cannot understand the dilemma of anyone else around me and frankly I don’t really care so long as you just get me out of here, and I really wish that everyone would just calm the hell down and stop shakin’ my damn bag. At least that’s what I assume he would say… until he got home to my fish tank, gave all my other fish some deadly disease, and then promptly jumping OUT of the tank onto the floor of my room. Then he might say something like, “That’s for trying to pinch me, bitch.”

So here I am sitting at my gate, attempting to edit my language a bit because there are now people within the viewing distance of my screen. In case you were wondering, the current threat advisory level issued by the Department of Homeland Security is Orange. I don’t exactly know what that means, but I’ll take it to be something bad, because Orange is the color of fire and fire is pretty serious; then again, Orange is also the color of Creamsicles and Paris Hilton, which really isn’t that scary but I guess if you’re lactose intolerant both of those things can be pretty alarming.

By the way, men out there, it is never, may I repeat NEVER appropriate for a man to wear leggings. I cannot possibly think of any conceivable situation in which a man other than Nacho Libre would stop and think, “This situation would be appropriate for stretchy pants.” Nope, never. I am hoping that the man next to me is reading this. Because yes, sir, it applies directly to you.

Also, please do not let your children roam around freely with their wheely suitcases. In fact, why on earth would you ever buy your child a wheely suitcase that clearly weighs more than them? I’ve seen too many toes and tragically, even a few cute shoes fall victim to careless children and their rolling suitcases. Next time one comes near me, I’m taking it. As collateral. For my mascara.

And did I fall asleep for some universal tragedy in which fanny packs came back into fashion? I didn’t? Oh, okay. THEN WHY ARE WE STILL MAKING THEM? If you really, really feel the need to carry your belongings in a pouch that hangs around your waist like some incredibly unfortunate FUPA (if you don’t know what this means, I’m sorry) when you are in public then perhaps you shouldn’t leave the house at all. Right now I’m facing some unfortunately placed airport shop in which they sell an array of fanny packs in a variety of colors. Grrreat.

When I first signed up for this blog thing, I did a little research and skimmed the 294,546,634,674 blogs entitled “An American Girl in Paris”, just to get a little idea of what my peers were writing about. Unfortunately, I had to fight the urge to vomit more than once. No one is really interested in how many times you watched “Amelie” or how many French words you can slip into your blog. No, I’m kidding. I’m actually relying on those girls and all their research to get me through the first few weeks here. ughhh. Did I mention I hate airports?