etcetera

Does anyone else find it kind of ironic that next to the article "A Double Standard for the Triply Wed" in the Times online is an ad for Tiffany's Celebration Rings?

la BSG, encore

I've been here at the library for an hour and the only thing I've learned is that I really, really appreciate a man who looks good in hunter green.

la Bibliothèque Sainte-Genviève

Wasted an hour of my life today - but decided that, all things considered, I'd only count it as 30 wasted minutes.

A book I need to find for my exposé on the rise of medieval cities and the riots at Chartres in 1210, A. Chèdeville's "Chartres et ses campagnes," isn't at any of the bookstores that I've visited. It is, however, at the Bibliothèque Sainte-Genviève, which is steps away from my apartment.

Libraries are a cornerstone of the French university system; indivdual colleges don't have their own libraries, and internet access isn't a given in houses and apartments like it is in the States, so kids pretty much camp out in the libraries. Every time I've walked past the BSG, I've noted the ginormous line outside the door and the groups of kids milling around, smoking cigarettes and downing espresso during study breaks. I really need this book - the exposé is on Monday - so I juiced up my ipod and m'installed at the end of the line. Forty-five mminutes later...

Apparently, you have to be registered to get into the library. Apparently, there was another queue, which was empty, to get registered. Apparently, you need a passport and a photo to register. Apparently, God hates me; I had neither. I trudged back home, got my passport and a photo for my ID, waited in the empty line for another 10 minutes, and finally was admitted and registered.

It was worth about half the wasted time. The Salle de lecture is absolutely beautiful. (Check it out:) It's really intense; you get a receipt when you enter with the number of your assigned seat, and there isn't really any talking or anything. You have to request the books you want through the computer system, and can't check them out. I wasn't able to stay for more than 15 minutes as I had to meet Jed for coffee, but will plant myself there at 10am on Saturday morning.

Tonight: rehearsal and exposé work.
Tomorrow: Medieval Art field trip to Chartres. (Good timing, no?)

recipes

Les Oeufs en Meuette

pour la sauce:
50g de beurre
1 oignon
100g de lardons
1 gousse d'ail
3 échalotes
3 carotttes
20g de farine
1L de vin rouge
50cl de jus de viande ou de volaille
1 bouquet garni (persil, thym, laurier)
sel, poivre

pour la garniture:
12 oeufs entires
6 tranches de pain
1 gousse d'ail
200g de champignons de Paris
100g de lardons
50g de beurre

pour le pochage:
50cl de vin rouge
1L d'eau
10g de sel
20cl de vinagre de vin

Commencer par faire la sauce. Dans une marmite, faire revenir avec le beurre les 100g de lardons, l'oignon, les échalotes ciselées, une gousse d'ail écrasée, les carottes émincées. Saupoudrer de farine puis faire légèrement colorer pour obtenir un roux brun. Ajouter 1L de vin rouge et le bouquet garni. Faire réduire de moitié et ajouter le jus de viande, saler et poivrer. Faire réduire jusqu'à ce que la sauce nappe la cuillière/ Filtrer la sauce a travers une passoire. Si la sauce est trop acide, ajouter une ou deux cuillerées de beurre. Réserver cette sauce. Émincer les champignons et les poêler au beurre. Faiire revenir les lardons. Les ajouter à la sauce ou les laisser en garniture. Frotter les tranches de pain à l'ail et les griller. Mettre la sauce au vin dans de petits bols. Dans une marmite, mettre, l'eau, le vin rouge, le vinaigre, et le sel. Porter à ébullition. Casser les oeuf au-dessus de cette préparation et les pocher pendant 3 minutes. Retrer les oeufs pochés à l'écumoire. Les mettre dans la sauce au vin et présenter avec les petits croûtons.

calamities

I'm out of stationary. I won't be able to buy more until next weekend. I am experiencing inner turmoil.

bah humbug

www.jcrew.com just made me really, really homesick.

washington sick AND new york sick. also snickers sick and driving to the cathedral/ncs early in the morning sick. and walking down broadway in the dusk sick and my columbia boys sick.

how weird is that?

best. weekend. ever.

And by weekend, I mean Thursday through Sunday. You know how I roll.

Thursday: after rehearsal, Harry and I rolled over to Taylor's to get ready for clubbing. Laura met us there and we oohed and aahed over Taylor's incredible Eiffel Tower view for the millionth time. (You see the tower up close and personal out of their living room window. Like, very up close and personal. It's kind of intimidating.) During our endless taxi search I made a new friend - a Snickers! He was outside an art gallery, and looked exactly like our lab at home - pink nose and wriggles and everything. His owner was quite tickled by my excitement, and invited us into the gallery for the opening party they were having. We really wanted to go in (especially since there were costumed revelers inside), but we had to make it to the club before they started charging entry. I'm totally not a club person, but it was a blast! We went to Mix because a) Thursday nights are Erasmus nights, and b) Martin Solveig, a DJ Harry likes, was playing. It was packed and bouncing and there were crazy lights and ahhhh it was overwhelming. I want to go back. Eventually. And again for free.

Friday: reading and West Wing and sleep. Beautiful, beautiful sleep.

Friday night: reading and West Wing and sleep. Beautiful, beautiful sleep.

Saturday: reading and baking - exactly what God made Saturdays for.

Saturday night: Nellie's 21st birthday! A bunch of us met at the wine bar around the corner from our apartment - Nellie, Alyssa, Taylor, Laura, Rob (a friend from Columbia who's doing a full year at Science Po), Harry, and three of Harry's French friends. (I've found a new home in this wine bar, by the way; it's not too expensive, and while the dynamic has been different every time I've gone, it's always been warm and friendly and fun.) From there we moved to the Valentine's Day bar (it has a real name, but I can't remember it and so will call it from here on out "the Valentine's Day bar") to really celebrate. Nellie celebrated so much, in fact, that by midnight she had started playing the piano. It was kind of amazing. Here's a photo of us roomies from Saturday night:

Sunday: AmCath, obviously. Daylight savings time... not so obviously. I arrived at the church exactly an hour late, just as the service was about to begin. It had to happen to me eventually, I guess. After the service, I threw a brunch for Suzanne, the soprano I love who's leaving for the States on Wednesday. It was a total hit, if I do say so myself. We had all my baked yummies (banana bread, chocolate cake, apple pie, raisin scones, and brie en croute), plus some other goodies and lots of champagne and orange juice. There were about 12 of us, mostly of the younger crowd, and a core of about 5 stayed past 4. We ate and talked and laughed and salsaed (yes, there was dancing) and sang along to everything from the Beatles to Beyoncé to Big and Rich. It was so much fun. I love that I've made friends in the choir... I had missed the St. Michael's dynamic! Tonight some of us are going out for Thai, again to fête Suzanne. I don't know what we're going to do when she leaves; we're going to have to find a new excuse to party.

what's in a name?

I've been going by Elizabeth here when I meet new people because the French can't pronounce Betsy properly. I'm quite taken with the change, and am considering being Elizabeth when I finish college. Thoughts?

mercy and kindness

I've really been enjoying all the "WHO IS K?" emails I've been getting.

However, I think I'm enjoying them too much. I'm starting to feel sadistic. So I'll tell you a little bit - but K will retain his air of mystery.

K is a good friend here in Paris, a Franco-American, who doesn't like to be identified online. He's pretty much my hero. Blessing of blessings, he'll be in New York City next year (although this will probably be to the absolute detriment of my academic record).

Tonight we're going to some party for Girls at Work in the 8th. (From the email invite: Girls at Work, labo de création féminine, mène une réflexion sur la féminité au travers de l’expression artistique des femmes, en traitant de différents thèmes.) Last night was kind of nuts - Taylor, Laura, Harry, and I went to an internation night thing at a club in Monparnasse - so this will have to be low-key. Well... hopefully.

Tomorrow: reading like Guy Montag after he flips out, cleaning the apartment, and baking lots and lots of yummies.

etcetera

Turned in my first fac exposé for my Belle Époque class on Monday. Was supposed to present it orally, but kind of freaked out beforehand and the professor took mercy on me. It went something like this:
Betsy: I am so scared and I feel terribly unprepared.
Mme: Are you American?
Betsy: Yes.
Mme: Email me the paper after class.
Betsy: Vive la France.
So that made me life a lot easier. Unfortunately, I have another due on April 2nd - and I won't be able to wriggle out of that one. (It's for the medieval class, and will be on cities in France in the early 13th century. Exciting. Like, actually.)

Made Jed watch "Gigi" with me the other night. I love the movie, but Lerner and Lowe really were predictable. We spent most of the two hours gushing over the clothes; why don't men dress like that anymore? For that matter, why don't women? I'm not advocating corsets or anything, but turn-of-the-century evening gowns are stunning. For example: http://www.imdb.com/gallery/mptv/1337/Mptv/1337/1629_0002.jpg?path=gallery&path_key=0051658

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills

Before we talk about the concert, we have to talk briefly about Sunday morning's service. You see, you must understand what happened at 11am in order to understand the state of absolute mental terror I was experiencing. It's actually not a very interesting story; Ned gave me a solo in a 60 second piece (that everyone knew expect for me) and I totally croaked in the first two bars. The rest of the solo bit was fine, and everyone was really nice about it, but it was unbearably embarrassing.

Okay. Now. The concert. There's this rhyme my dad used to repeat to me all the time: "There once was a girl with a little curl / right in the middle of her forehead. / When she was good she was very very good, / and when she was bad she was horrid." That's pretty much how our concert went.

We opened by processing to psalm 121 - and when I say "we opened," what I really mean is "I opened." At the dress rehearsal the night before (!), Ned was like, "Hey, Betsy, you do this." So... okay. I totally fudged it when we were practicing just before the concert, but I pulled it off during the actual thing. (It was actually really cool; the acoustics in St. Sulpice are incredibly welcoming, which helped me a ton.)

We only did really well on a couple pieces. The harder ones, the ones we had performed beautifully (more or less) at the rehearsal the night before, we bombed. I'm still kind of upset about it, so I'm going to mostly just write about the screw-ups.

a) Allegri's "Misereri Mei"
First of all, the guest woman who sang the soprano 1 solo was a mess. She scooped up the the C, and sounded like she was screaming. Also, somehow the sop 1s entered on the wrong note on the very first verse, and it took them like 5 measures to fix the tuning. A lot of people came to the concert expressly for this piece...les pauvres.

b) Davy's "Stabat Mater"
This work is really, really, really hard - mostly for the 5 people in the semi-chorus. Regardless, the reason you're picked to be in the semi-chorus is because you're up to the job, right? Hypothetically. So... yeah.

c) Howell's "Like as the Hart"
Actually, we were pretty good on this one. I'm listing it because I did the soprano solo at the end and got a little extemporaneous. Oops. (Doubt anyone who didn't know the piece noticed, though)

We sang about 90 minutes of music, so obviously there was a lot more that we did wrong, and some things we did right that I'm not mentioning. I don't really want to write any more, though, because it was a really frustrating experience.

The highlight of the thing was that Nellie, Laura, Jed, and K came. It meant so much to see my friends in the audience! (Plus, K brought me flowers, which was sweet.) The four of us, plus Harry, a new boy in the choir, went out for champagne after the concert. Jed had tons of work to do, so he left after the drinks, but the rest of us trekked to my apartment for dinner. It was an absolute blast.

I had spent about 45 minutes roaming an outdoor market on Saturday morning, and found some beautiful cheeses (including époisse, a stinky cheese from Bourgogne) and a lovely pork loin. Rather than buying random wine, as I usually do, I actually went to a cave and asked for recommendations. The woman suggested two Beaujolaises that would go well with the orange glaze I was making. (Dinner: roast pork loin with orange glaze, cousous, and brussel sprouts.) We sat around for nearly 5 hours eating and drinking and, in Nellie's case, putting on a fashion show. I was really impressed that Harry stayed the whole time; I thought for sure we would scare him away by, you know, just being ourselves, but he totally gave as good as he got. So I guess that's something good that came out of that disastrous concert: we made a new friend.

best. pickup line. ever.

"Franchement, les Français sont magnifiques à faire l'amour."

I don't know from where I found the strength to walk away.

Handel rocks.

Last night's outing was amazing. We were way up in the nosebleeds, and couldn't really see anything, so after the first act we moved up to the empty boxes right above our seats. We couldn't see any better - well, most of us couldn't; K, on the other hand, almost killed himself by leaning way out of the box, as did one of the Germans - but it felt like an adventure. The music was stunning. I pretty much stopped paying attention to the story as soon as we settled into the boxes and just closed my eyes and listened. There wasn't much acting, although there were some trippy interpretive dance sections where Handel wrote ballet music, so I didn't miss anything. (I know everyone else who did watch was confused, though, because the two main male parts were written for castrati but were sung by women, the result of which was that 4 out of the 7 people on stage looked exactly alike.) My favorite was Dalinda, the princess' maid; her voice was so clear and crisp. The first aria she did, "Apri le luci," was breaktaking; unfortunately for me (and all of you who'll be peer-pressured into coming to my senior recital next spring), however, the role is sung by a coloratura, which I absolutely am not. The King, a bass, was also amazing. The mezzo who played Ariodante was a little... ornmental; I wasn't a huge fan. All in all, though, it was a wonderful performance.

We then went to a Moroccan restaurant in the area; as it was nearly midnight, we had the first floor of the place to ourselves. I don't know why, but I'm kind of obsessed with North African food right now.

Tutored at the buttcrack of dawn today (okay, 9am), and wussed out of quitting. I just couldn't do it! Armelle is so sweet and so eager, I just couldn't tell her I didn't have the time to sing "head, shoulders, knees and toes," and to make paper dolls. I set up a few alternate times with her mother for the next few weeks - I'm reminding myself that I have fun when I'm actually there, it's good money, and I have spring break in three weeks.

Wait a minute... I have spring break in three weeks!

apologies

a) The last post was embarassingly badly written. I'm going to change it, but if you read the original version... sorry.
b) I got the cream pot phrase totally wrong. It's actually "pendre de crémaillaire," and a crémaillaire is not a cream pot but one of those big iron hooks you hang in the fireplace to warm soup or stews or whatever.
c) I'm a bad speller.

da weekend

This is going to be one of those amazing, busy, wonderful weekends. What's that? You want me to tell you about it? Well, okay!

Tonight K and I are going to the Theatre des Champs Elysées with two of his friends (whom I met last weekend at his brunch) to see Handel's "Ariodante." Handel operas are rarely performed - I doubt most people are even aware that he wrote any - so I'm really excited. We won't really be able to see from our seats, but the tickets were only 12€ and we'll be able to hear sublimely.

Tomorrow morning, at 9am (blergh), I have to tutor. Hopefully it'll be the last session - I tried to make it clear to Armelle's mother over the phone that I really don't have time to tutor now the the semester has reached its cruising altitude, but I think she thought I meant that I couldn't do the normal time anymore. I enjoy tutoring, and the girl is a total sweetheart, but my plate is just too full. Am not looking forward to clearing this up. In the afternoon, though, Nellie and I are going to go on a date. I haven't spent much time at home lately and therefore haven't seen her much, so we're going to try to grab coffee or a movie or something. Then in the evening the choir has a 3 hour dress rehearsal for our Sunday concert.

Sunday... what else would I be doing?
10-12h30: service
14h-16h: rehearsal
16h-18h: concert

Am SO EXCITED for this concert; we're doing some really amazing music. (I'll put up the program Monday or Tuesday when I report on how it went.) I've got a little solo in a Howells piece, which is nice cause I'm the newest soprano. We're doing the Allegri "Misereri Mei," too. I'm singing first soprano for most of the concert, and I was almost kept on first for that, which would have made me cry because my self-worth is totally tied up in being a second on that piece, but Ned moved me back to second, thank God. Have strong-armed some friends into coming to the concert; unfortunately, several will be out of town, but those who aren't have promised to be there. I love it when I can share this music with my friends... concerts like this usually make them understand why I've sold my soul to Jesus.

sunny and 60

Don't hate me too much, east coasters.

On second thought, you're entirely alllowed to hate me; this is where I go to school:

snail mail

I got [another] letter from [my hero] Kate Chieco yesterday. I guess some of you just love me more than others...

Anyway, it reminded me of back in the day when we didn't have email and were pretty much forced to write letters. I have such a visceral reaction to that light blue air mail paper; as intercontinental phone calls were expensive, our au pairs wrote their friends and family all the time, and whenever I see air mail paper now I'm brought back to our (unrenovated) house. For some reason, in these memories it's always cold and I'm always about 11. Strange.

We had one au pair - I can't remember who - who was inspiringly OCD about her letter-writing. She had a big chart with names of friends and family down one axis and things that happened to her across the other. When she wrote about something to someone, she checked it off on the chart. How cool is that?

I think my fascination with letter-writing is partly why I enjoy keeping this blog. I don't like sending out mass emails, and mass snail mail kind of ruins the romance of pretty paper and a good pen. The blog lets me get out news while allowing me to send more personalized letters.

I think I need to make another stationery run.

further adventures

Yesterday - Sunday - was a blast. At AmCath, the sopranos did a two-part thing from Anthems for Choirs II; it brought me way back and was the best start to the day. Dad, who arrived in Paris with Granma earlier that morning, came to the service, and afterward we métroed to K's apartment, who was throwing a brunch. (Coolest French expression ever, which I will massacre with terrible spelling: "pendre la creamière," = "to hang the cream pot." Basically, it's what a housewarming party is called. We were dépendreing la creamière at brunch.) Met a bunch of really cool kids from all over the place, and K let me play hostessish, so I had tons o' fun. Afterwards, some of us se baladered over to the Jardin des Plantes to enjoy the sun, and we ended up hunkering down by the Seine. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon.

Dad and Granma came over for dinner to meet my flatmates (K joined us, too). The wine I brought back from the Bourgogne field trip was a success, although the lasagna was... well, let's put it this way: Dad and Grandma were supposed to come over at 7:30 but didn't show up until 9:30. Yikes. Nonetheless, I love entertaining!

a field trip

This past weekend, my Medieval Art and Architrecture class took a fantastic trip to Bourgogne to visit several (mostly) romanesque churches.

Friday morning we drove 4 hours west to the Abbey of Fontenay, a Cistercian monastery that was founded by a breakaway group of Cluniac monks, led by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who thought that the Cluniac order didn't follow the Rule of Benedict. Consequently, the monastery they built is austere and almost completely devoid of ornamentation. Here's the western facade of the church; notice how it lacks any of the decorative elements we're used to seeing on medieval churches. The interior of the church is similarly bare. (Fontenay bears the hallmarks of roman architecture: heavy, thick walls punctuated only briefly by small windows and an absence of flying butresses.) As the church was completely empty, save our small group, I sang a bit inside, and the acoustics were incredible. I must have echoed for nearly 30 seconds. It was pretty magical. Everything at Fontenay was laid out at right angles; the gardens and the buildings weren't supposed to distract the monks at all from their meditation and prayer. I'm a huge fan of more flamboyant design, but the effect of it all was pretty stunning.


From there we drove to Vézelay, stopping along the way for a yummy lunch at a restaurant where farmwives (sorry to be so un-politially correct) bring their homecooked goodness for weary, cold travelers. (We were weary. It was cold. It was raining. I have never been so glad to sit next to a fire in my life.) Expect recipes to be up soon. Vézelay is a pilgrimage church built at the top of a hill in the middle of nowhere; like Fontenay, it was built in the 12th century. However, although St. Bernard pretty much started the Second Crusade from Vézelay, it has ornamentation like whoa. The facade of the church isn't original, so I won't put up a picture of it, but here's a photo of the interior. Like most churches the held relics, Vézelay has an ambulatory and radiating chapels behind the choir to better direct pilgrim traffic. The nave is romanesque (see above description), but the east end is gothic, as you can see from the huge windows and rib vaulting. (See? I am learning stuff here!)






I'm including a view from the window of my room in the B&B in Vézelay because it was absolutely breathtaking. It poured on Friday night, but Saturday was brilliantly clear, so the other photos here are of the landscape looking down from the church and of the church and town taken as we were driving away.


Our last stop was the Church of St. Lazarus in Autun. It was built to house the relics of - shockingly enough - Lazarus. The architecture was really interesting because it was a mishmash of different styles, as you can see from the photos (the first shows some normal gothicness, the second an explosion of 15th century flamboyant design). This is the cool part: rather than including an ambulatory in the elevation of the church, the architects built a mini church inside the choir itself, which housed the relics. Pilgrims descended into the crypt below the mini church to view them and then reascended on the other side - like Lazarus himself. The symbolism of it all is pretty overwhelming... Christians are so creative! It really is cool, but unfortunately we can't see any of that anymore (except the crypt) because the enlightened thinkers of the 18th century destroyed nearly all of the mini church because they found it to... unenlightened. Good work, enlightened thinkers.


It took 4.5 hours to drive back - we got stuck in traffic for nearly an hour outide Paris - but the sunset over the countryside made it nearly worthwhile.

etcetera

Four favorite things about my Monday morning walk past/through the Luxembourg Gardens to Reid Hall each week:

- 15 minutes of pure alone time
- the statue of a beautiful woman, just off the St. Michel/Sufflot intersection, labelled "George Sand"
- the gangs of firefighters who run laps
- blooming flowers
- the wind. always. no matter what the weather.

I'll post soon(ish) about the weekend. Heads up.

adventures

LIFE. Yikes. You know that expression, "When it rains, it pours?" It's raining. Metaphorically.

Concert: actually, it wasn't bad. The church wasn't as far away as I had thought. We couldn't hear each other at all, but the acoustics were amazing. The concert itself was in honor of Jean Langlais' centennial (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Langlais), so we did his Messe en Style Ancien (which I very reluctantly admitted I liked by the end) and Duruflé's four motets.

Last night K took me to a wine tasting at the Ecole National Superieur. Apparently last night's dégust was a pretty big deal; K told me that two of the panelists were a legendary wine guy and the EIC of France's best-regarded wine magazine. The wines were from Mas de Daumas Gassac. We had four reds and three whites; my favorites were the 2005 red and a dark, exotic white. Everyone else sounded like they knew what they were talking about when they discussed wines, but I'm pretty sure some of the kids were faking it. Regardless, I had a really good time. Afterwards (11pm, yikes) we headed down to Alysia to hang out with some kids K had met on Birthright. Meeting Jews here is a really interesting experience. Like in Lyon, we talked about how France has mostly Sephardic Jews, while the States' Jewish population is mostly Ashkenazic. I've always told people that I study Christianity because I can be objective about it, but I've never actually tried to be anything but subjective about my Judaism. It's hard! Before last night, I had been pretty disenchanted about meeting "real French people," but I had a blast.

So spring in Paris is pretty whack. It was sunny and high 50s on Tuesday, yesterday was cold and rainy, and today is brilliantly bright again. I'm totally confused. When it's nice, though, the city is stunning. I actually walked through the Luxembourg Gardens today instead of around them, and envied all the carefree people lunching on the benches. It's 6pm, though, and it's still light out, so I don't care how confused the weather gets tomorrow.

That's a lie - I do care. My medieval art class is taking a field trip to Bourgogne tomorrow - we're staying through Saturday afternoon. I'm siked; we're going to see some incredible buildings. Plus, Laura's in my class and we haven't had much time to hang out lately. I have tons of work that I should be doing instead of going, but the bus ride is a couple hours each way, so I'll be abble to get some reading done.

You won't hear from me again until Sunday at the earliest because of the trip. I may not be able to post again till Wedesday or Thursday, though, because Dad and Granma are coming to visit on Sunday and I'll be busy
a) being filial
b) writing a grammar paper (Monday)
c) studying for my Itinéraires midterm (Tuesday)
d) studying for my medieval art midterm (Tuesday)
e) writing the rough draft of my Belle Epoque exposé (Thursday)

It's pouring. Metaphorically.

etcetera

Oh my God, guys, I haven't really posted since Saturday, and it's Tuesday today. I bet you're all wondering if I'm deathly ill or in love or something.

Nope. I spent most of Sunday recovering from Saturday, and yesterday was Monday (day of poo, for those of you who haven't read previous posts). So. Sorry, I guess.

Saturday night Jed and I went to Chez Omar, a Moroccan restaurant in the Marais. My flatmates have been there several times, and it's gotten rave reviews from other friends, so I was totally siked. We got there at 7:30 - way earlier than the cool kids, but it turned out to be a good decision, since all the cool kids come at the same time (9pm) and have to wait an hour to get a table. Jed had steak au poivre, which was good but not terribly original, and I had couscous merguez, which was amazing. Merguez is a long, thin, spicy sausage, and every couscous dish comes with a tureen of veggies in some sort of delicious broth. So good. We also had an Algerian wine called Medea, which went really well with both our dishes. There was a full lunar eclipse on Saturday night, so after dinner we walked down to the Seine to check it out. It had been raining earlier in the day, but the sky cleared up just in time for us to catch the show. It was amazing; the moon, all except a little sliver on the left, was red. Not harvest moon orange, but deep blood red. Kind of spooky, but definitely cool.

AmCath Sunday - I'm making friends! I sit next to Sarah often, so we're becoming friendly; she's a first, but I'm the swing soprano and have been on first most of the time lately. (Sarah's the Brit I said mean things about. I take them all back. She's really good. Sorry, Sarah.) Another soprano, Susannah, is also tons o' fun, but she's going back to the states at the end of March. Plus I pal around with a couple of the tenors before and after rehearsals/services. So this makes me happy.

Monday... Monday. 'Nuff said. Wait, who am I kidding? It's me, and I always have more to say. Was the last day of grammar classes. We'll have individual tutoring sessions with the prof once a week from here on out, which will be much more helpful, but we had a good vibe and I think the class is kind of bummed. Still totally lost in my medieval history class... I'm going to be totally screwed when I have to do my exposé. Went to Gilbert Joseph after classes to get some of the background books I need, and felt very native browsing the shelves of French history.

Concert tonight. The music isn't bad - we're doing the Duruflé motets and Langlais' Messe en Style Ancien - but it's a Tuesday night and the church is all the way out west. I'd rather stay in and read about laïcité during the Belle Epoque. No, that's not sarcastic. I really would. Shmeh.

Oh my God, guys, I haven't really posted since Saturday, and it's Tuesday today. I bet you're all wondering if I'm deathly ill or in love or something.

Nope. I spent most of Sunday recovering from Saturday, and yesterday was Monday (day of poo, for those of you who haven't read previous posts). So. Sorry, I guess.

Saturday night Jed and I went to Chez Omar, a Moroccan restaurant in the Marais. My flatmates have been there several times, and it's gotten rave reviews from other friends, so I was totally siked. We got there at 7:30 - way earlier than the cool kids, but it turned out to be a good decision, since all the cool kids come at the same time (9pm) and have to wait an hour to get a table. Jed had steak au poivre, which was good but not terribly original, and I had couscous merguez, which was amazing. Merguez is a long, thin, spicy sausage, and every couscous dish comes with a tureen of veggies in some sort of delicious broth. So good. We also had an Algerian wine called Medea, which went really well with both our dishes. There was a full lunar eclipse on Saturday night, so after dinner we walked down to the Seine to check it out. It had been raining earlier in the day, but the sky cleared up just in time for us to catch the show. It was amazing; the moon, all except a little sliver on the left, was red. Not harvest moon orange, but deep blood red. Kind of spooky, but definitely cool.

AmCath Sunday - I'm making friends! I sit next to Sarah often, so we're becoming friendly; she's a first, but I'm the swing soprano and have been on first most of the time lately. (Sarah's the Brit I said mean things about. I take them all back. She's really good. Sorry, Sarah.) Another soprano, Susannah, is also tons o' fun, but she's going back to the states at the end of March. Plus I pal around with a couple of the tenors before and after rehearsals/services. So this makes me happy.

Monday... Monday. 'Nuff said. Wait, who am I kidding? It's me, and I always have more to say. Was the last day of grammar classes. We'll have individual tutoring sessions with the prof once a week from here on out, which will be much more helpful, but we had a good vibe and I think the class is kind of bummed. Still totally lost in my medieval history class... I'm going to be totally screwed when I have to do my exposé. Went to Gilbert Joseph after classes to get some of the background books I need, and felt very native browsing the shelves of French history.

Concert tonight. The music isn't bad - we're doing the Duruflé motets and Langlais' Messe en Style Ancien - but it's a Tuesday night and the church is all the way out west. I'd rather stay in and read about laïcité during the Belle Epoque. No, that's not sarcastic. I really would. Shmeh.

You know you're no longer a tourist/visitor when...

you don't give a damn if you're in the way of someone's photograph. Stop taking pictures and let me get to class already!

etcetera

http://abc.go.com/primetime/greysanatomy/quiz/greysdiagnosis/index

I'm Callie, apparently: "You are very direct and sometimes that is a bit much for people to handle, but you just call it like you see it. Life's too short not to be lived to the fullest and if that scares some people, then who needs them? You're an all-or-nothing person, so people who can't commit have no place in your life. You deserve someone who loves and lives just as hard as you do."

Okay, I'll buy some of that. I really wanted to be Izzy, though. Bummer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe there is something the matter with me.

I just can't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad.

Turns out, it's not. Karma, baby... for surviving the past week of poo, I'm being showered with good times by my benevolent ancestors. Let's play catch-up. (Again, this will be a really long post. Apologies.)

Rewind to Tursday night. Maria, Adam (a new Dartmouth friend), and I went to that opening night party in the 19th. It was awesome. The gallery was a few flights up in a random building on a side-street in Belleville; you'd only know it was there if you were looking really hard. We got there at around 11, and it was packed with artists and hipsters who were all young and Parisian and way cooler that I will ever be. (I think I faked it well, though: I was befriended. Several times. By several boys. Super chouette.) Anyway, the exhibition was comprised mostly of photograps, although there were seveal videos and installation pieces as well. My favorite work was a series of photos of a woman at a window set up in a corner of the gallery designed to look like a hotel room. The whole thing was like something out of a movie... kids gesticulating wildly, cigarettes in hand, bisous everywhere, smoke diffusing into the wine. If we'd been in New York, we probably would have been somewhere in Brooklyn, and the art might have been better but the kids would have been posers. I love Paris. Afterward, the three of us stopped at a bar in République before going to my friend K's to wind down. I always feel bad about drinking with K because he really knows wine, and I'm not exactly in a connoisseur mood at 2 am. It was, however, tons o' fun.


Because French schools are on winter vacation right now, I babysat all day yesterday. I took the kids to the zoo at the Parc de Vincennes and we had a blast. Here's a photo of Max, 8, and Isabel, 5 from the zoo. I'm also going to be a meanie and include a picture of spring - taken yesterday - for all of you east-coasters who were dealing with snow and ice a couple days ago.

Today's agenda includes homework and rehearsal, followed by Chez Omar (a Moroccan restaurant in the Marais that everyone's obsessed with but that I haven't yet been to) with Jed. Tomorrow: AmCath, brunch with the roomies, more homework. Nice weekend, n'est-ce pas?

Speaking of AmCath... the soprano who yelled at me about kneeling is no longer singing with us. I don't know what happened, but apparently it was a Thing. Yikes.

In other news, I got letters and postcards from some of you! Yay. This makes me happy. Thank you, nice people.