shhh...i have a secret...but i can't tell until a certain person tells me its ok...i was specifically told not to reveal it on my bloggie for awhile.
but i can tell yo
u about my day. it began in a rather unusual way. it is sunday, and on most sundays, i tend to sleep until at least 8 or 9, if i haven't gone out the night before, as was the case this weekend. but no, 6:30 came around and my eyes popped open. i felt nervous. it was weird. i stayed up until around 8, but decided i needed to sleep a bit more if i was going to be at all productive today. awoke around 9:30 and decided to explore my hood a bit. it is a hood. my area is, shall we say, a bit ghetto? don't worry, its completely safe, but it definitely is one of the more ghetto-y areas of paris. i do live really close to the periphery, which is right next to the banlieue, and alas, more ghettos. i feel safe, generally, if i just am not out and about really late at night. (mom, relax, i wont get shot up.)
u about my day. it began in a rather unusual way. it is sunday, and on most sundays, i tend to sleep until at least 8 or 9, if i haven't gone out the night before, as was the case this weekend. but no, 6:30 came around and my eyes popped open. i felt nervous. it was weird. i stayed up until around 8, but decided i needed to sleep a bit more if i was going to be at all productive today. awoke around 9:30 and decided to explore my hood a bit. it is a hood. my area is, shall we say, a bit ghetto? don't worry, its completely safe, but it definitely is one of the more ghetto-y areas of paris. i do live really close to the periphery, which is right next to the banlieue, and alas, more ghettos. i feel safe, generally, if i just am not out and about really late at night. (mom, relax, i wont get shot up.)i had a mission this morning...to find a hammam in my area. a hammam is a moroccan-style spa and i ran across one online the other day that happens to be in my arrondissement. i read about hammams last year when i wen
t to morocco, but didn't have the balls to go by myself. as i have some darling people visiting me, i thought this could be a nice relaxing activity. after a long stroll through parc de buttes chaumont, i realized that i had walked in the completely wrong direction and proceeded to right myself. 20 minutes later, i had found my spa (looks ok, all the windows are covered with curtains, as people are running around in there in swim suits, so you couldn't really see a whole lot) and realized that i definitely had not gotten enough sleep. i made my way home, after being 'eye-fucked' by too many nasty men. guys here really are bad. girls, if you think that men at home don't pay enough attention to you and that you are sick of having to do all the work, start appreciating it. when skeezy men look you up and down like a starving dog woul look at a raw rack of lamb, it is disgusting and you begin to realize how it is nice to not be looked at. ive heard that italian men are worse than the french, though. if a girl makes eye contact with an italian men, it apparently means (to him) that she is ready to just go hop in the sack with him, right then and there. long live cultural differences, i guess.
t to morocco, but didn't have the balls to go by myself. as i have some darling people visiting me, i thought this could be a nice relaxing activity. after a long stroll through parc de buttes chaumont, i realized that i had walked in the completely wrong direction and proceeded to right myself. 20 minutes later, i had found my spa (looks ok, all the windows are covered with curtains, as people are running around in there in swim suits, so you couldn't really see a whole lot) and realized that i definitely had not gotten enough sleep. i made my way home, after being 'eye-fucked' by too many nasty men. guys here really are bad. girls, if you think that men at home don't pay enough attention to you and that you are sick of having to do all the work, start appreciating it. when skeezy men look you up and down like a starving dog woul look at a raw rack of lamb, it is disgusting and you begin to realize how it is nice to not be looked at. ive heard that italian men are worse than the french, though. if a girl makes eye contact with an italian men, it apparently means (to him) that she is ready to just go hop in the sack with him, right then and there. long live cultural differences, i guess.i made it home without too many dodgy fellows, although i did have some loser ask me what street we were on (um, as if the fuckin
g street sign wasn't posted on the buildling behind me) and then where i was from. english stephanie appeared. he was disappointed - thought i was dutch and had gotten excited. yes, i am dutch, and i have some killer herb at my apartment, too. riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite. (ps, that is a joke, to anyone from work who may be reading this.)
g street sign wasn't posted on the buildling behind me) and then where i was from. english stephanie appeared. he was disappointed - thought i was dutch and had gotten excited. yes, i am dutch, and i have some killer herb at my apartment, too. riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite. (ps, that is a joke, to anyone from work who may be reading this.) i was in a funk today. i felt in a state of limbo. i feel very much at home now, and going out and doing touristy things in the city just didn
't appeal to me. it was like a cold, snowy day back in madison where all you want to do is curl up in bed and watch a movie. but it was a gray, fall morning in paris and i just wanted to do nothing. but i couldn't do nothing, cuz im in paris, and i felt guilty for doing nothing. i finally began to do something around three, and i made my way to rambuteau to get postcards from my favorite papeterie. i stopped in a touristy shop to pick up some more postcards and i heard people speaking english. i actually thought, 'wow, that sounds kind of bad.' as it was a tourist shop and i was buying postcards, it was assumed that i did not speak french. but when i said everything back to the cashier in french after being spoken to in english, he actually believed that i was french. it felt nice. i walked my high horse out of there, away from those english speakers. rubbish.
't appeal to me. it was like a cold, snowy day back in madison where all you want to do is curl up in bed and watch a movie. but it was a gray, fall morning in paris and i just wanted to do nothing. but i couldn't do nothing, cuz im in paris, and i felt guilty for doing nothing. i finally began to do something around three, and i made my way to rambuteau to get postcards from my favorite papeterie. i stopped in a touristy shop to pick up some more postcards and i heard people speaking english. i actually thought, 'wow, that sounds kind of bad.' as it was a tourist shop and i was buying postcards, it was assumed that i did not speak french. but when i said everything back to the cashier in french after being spoken to in english, he actually believed that i was french. it felt nice. i walked my high horse out of there, away from those english speakers. rubbish.i walked down the way and over to les halles. les halles is a big underground shopping center, the closest thing that paris has to an am
erican mall. there are also two movie theatres in les halles. the place is crazy and i generally just walk around it and not go in. i dont like to go inside shopping centers on weekends. too busy for me. too much action. BUT, one of my favorite stores in paris happens to be on the outside of les halles. this store would be the bodum store, the maker of all things glass. they make the most wonderful french presses. i saw my dream today. i am a firm believer in the superiorness of the coffee that a french press produces. in the states, however, i only drink french press after dinner, as i need a lot of drip coffee in the morning to wake me up, not to mention that i have a tiny little french press. i thought up a
n idea this summer - to make a travel mug that is a french press. holy shit bodum already thought that up. i saw it today. ten euros! so cheap. i will be back for it. im going to buy a couple, in case one breaks in transit back to america. my day was made when i saw this. i only stayed a few more minutes. i could do mad damage in that store...
erican mall. there are also two movie theatres in les halles. the place is crazy and i generally just walk around it and not go in. i dont like to go inside shopping centers on weekends. too busy for me. too much action. BUT, one of my favorite stores in paris happens to be on the outside of les halles. this store would be the bodum store, the maker of all things glass. they make the most wonderful french presses. i saw my dream today. i am a firm believer in the superiorness of the coffee that a french press produces. in the states, however, i only drink french press after dinner, as i need a lot of drip coffee in the morning to wake me up, not to mention that i have a tiny little french press. i thought up a
n idea this summer - to make a travel mug that is a french press. holy shit bodum already thought that up. i saw it today. ten euros! so cheap. i will be back for it. im going to buy a couple, in case one breaks in transit back to america. my day was made when i saw this. i only stayed a few more minutes. i could do mad damage in that store......so i left and made my way towards the seine. it was around four by this time and the sun was starting to dip lower towards the earth. the leaves are all starting to turn
their deep reds and buttery yellows, and the scent of fall was in the air. i had a flashback of being about six years old, cutting down poppel trees with my brother. we would take a knife and skin off the bark and make cane fishing poles. the smell of the innards of a poppel tree is wonderful, sweet and fresh and dewy. that's what my walk smelled like. i took the steps down to the bank of the river and strolled along for awhile. it was a nice escape from people. i was on the left bank, and when i could see that i had neared the end of the louvre on the right bank and tuileries was approaching, i headed back up the stairs and crossed a bridge. the sun was beginning to set and you could see its rays poking out from behind musee d'orsay. i was out of my funk. the day had turned beautiful and i felt so alive. i continued my walk towards the eiffel tower. i kept thinking, 'j'ai de la chance, j'ai de la chance, j'ai de la chance!!!' (i am lucky, i am lucky, i am lucky!) to be back in paris, a city that i fell in love with such a short time ago, is just wonderful. the thing that saddens me, however, is that my time here is flying by!
their deep reds and buttery yellows, and the scent of fall was in the air. i had a flashback of being about six years old, cutting down poppel trees with my brother. we would take a knife and skin off the bark and make cane fishing poles. the smell of the innards of a poppel tree is wonderful, sweet and fresh and dewy. that's what my walk smelled like. i took the steps down to the bank of the river and strolled along for awhile. it was a nice escape from people. i was on the left bank, and when i could see that i had neared the end of the louvre on the right bank and tuileries was approaching, i headed back up the stairs and crossed a bridge. the sun was beginning to set and you could see its rays poking out from behind musee d'orsay. i was out of my funk. the day had turned beautiful and i felt so alive. i continued my walk towards the eiffel tower. i kept thinking, 'j'ai de la chance, j'ai de la chance, j'ai de la chance!!!' (i am lucky, i am lucky, i am lucky!) to be back in paris, a city that i fell in love with such a short time ago, is just wonderful. the thing that saddens me, however, is that my time here is flying by! its ok, i guess. i WILL be back.
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