"America is my country and Paris is my hometown."

-Gertrude Stein.

Not much to report today either.  Yesterday I ended up NOT having class, since the professor couldn't make it (unknown reason).  The course is rescheduled for this Thursday.  This is what my weekly class schedule looks like:

Monday

11:30 Political Science (Comparative Politics of Western Europe)

Tuesday

4:00 Drawing 

Wednesday

11:30 Political Science (Comparative Politics of Western Europe)

5:00 French (Contemporary French Theatre)

Thursday

12:30 Drawing

4:00 Cultural Formations (France in the Interwar Period)

Drawing today was SO great.  Our professor is Italian, his name is Ivo Bonacorsi (say it loud right now in an Italian accent - extremely amusing).  He has two Masters degrees, one in art history and one in studio art.  Today was just a run down of how the class will operate and such; we were released early and went to the art supply store and bought cool things!  Like big sketch books and little sketch books and different pencils (who knew they made ones that weren't just freakin' #2?) and erasers and it was grand.  One day a week we will be drawing in class, learning about technique, a little art history, etc.  The other day of class we will be at one of Paris' AWESOME museums and drawing pieces that are actually there!  How intense is it that I will be drawing shit hanging in the Louvre?  Or the Musée d'Orsay?  Or the Musée Rodin?!?!?!  I'm dying.

My French class is intimidating.  I haven't been there yet, and actually it doesn't start until next week.  It's a 5000 level class, and there is only me and another girl (Lauren, who was with me in the South of France last summer) taking that level while we are here, so we've been added to a class with Sarah Lawrence and Wesleyan students.  We will be reading French plays and attending theatre productions here in the city!  I'm super pumped about the class material, about getting out and watching French plays, and about meeting other students who are studying abroad, but I just hope the language level is not beyond my understanding.  SL and Wes are obviously formidable universities with strong academic reputations...I just don't want to be the dumbass in the class with the Texan accent in French.  Not ideal.

This morning I woke up and went to the market.  The Belleville market opens every Tuesday and Friday morning; Anne suggested I go shopping there for fruits and veggies instead of going to the grocery store because it would be cheaper.  She was beyond correct.  I bought six perfect peaches, ten kiwis and ten clementine oranges for less than two dollars.  At a grocery store like Monoprix this could have easily been ten bucks.  Here's a quick shaky vid of the market:

The market is set up in the middle of the boulevard on the large median, with tents on each side to provide shade for the vendors and their products.  A veritable cornucopia (dang, nice) of fruits and vegetables are sold, as well as fresh meat and fish, cheese and yogurt, and even accessories like bags, sunglasses, and shoes.  You can hear them yelling out prices and such in the vid.  Most of the vendors are of Arab descent, and it was cool to hear everyone wishing each other a Happy Ramadan.  Reminded me of my roots and made me think of the fam.  THE ETHNICS.

Which reminds me - funny story from Alexia and her host family.  Alexia is Mexican and her host family is supes sweet and adorable.  They have been trying to provide her with food that is "mexican" so as to make her feel more at home.  These products have included a powder they insisted was guacamole and buying mangos for her at the market.  Because she is from the tropical rainforest. Obviously.

Which brings me to another ethnically influenced anecdote.  My fam made pig feet last night for dinner - it was really unexpected for me, but later they told me it isn't a traditional French meal, they just like it.  At any rate, they made me another small dish of noodles and shrimp because they took into account my ethnic heritage and assumed I wouldn't be eating pork.  It spurred a conversation about religion over dinner.  Can we talk about how amazing and perfect for me my host family is?  They're old simple intellectuals, with open minds and open hearts.  They respect, even appreciate, the differences of other cultures.  Annnnd it helps that they are super liberal, possess an aversion to organized religion, and have an egalitarian view of gender roles.  When I mentioned that I got a few pointed questions about why I was coming into the country at French customs (not this time, the time before), Jean-Charles joked "WELL OBVIOUSLY WE HAVE TOO MANY TERRORISTS WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO GET IN TO OUR PERFECT COUNTRY?!"  They're like an old, French Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. 

I need to shower tonight but am embarrassed to ask JC&A how to turn on the water heater AGAIN.  They live in a super old building, so there's this thing in the kitchen with a dial that you turn to "Gas" and then hold down the button for like five seconds and then you light a match and LIGHT THIS WICK THING ON FIRE.  And it's BIG FLAMES.  And then you wait a few minutes and you can take a hot shower.  I am basically 99% sure I'm going to burn the building down.  Or at least singe my eyebrows off.  No way I'm walking away from something like this unscathed.  

Anne makes homemade yogurt and we put blackberry jam (also homemade) in it and I basically die right there at the dining room table every. time. we have it.

I will leave you people with that thought for tonight, of delectable fresh food and tastes of wonderment.

Peace, love, and Paris,

Rhiannon