“The Hangover” in France

The Hangover came out in Paris, France today. Take a look at the French movie poster:

In Cold Blood at the American Cocktail Bar in Paris

How do I go out for one night and end up with both feet in a pool of blood?

Note to self-Never wear flip flops in proximity to beer pong games.

Madame gave us all a free day, and I was productive for the most part. I spent a few hours in Chatelet, where a good friend resides. I sent out nearly a dozen postcards (if you email me an address, I promise to send you a postcard, you have it in writing), purchased more minutes for my cell phone at Orange, ate the best éclair and hot chocolate at La Croissanterie, and bought two Anglophone novels at the FNAC, the French version of Borders, but trust me, it’s better!

After that, I took an hour-long nap and seriously considered staying in for the night. Thank God Ava talked me out of that idea. At 8, I met up with the Arizona in Paris group at Planet Sushi for Ben’s birthday dinner. It’s an incredible restaurant. Too bad there are so few Planet Sushi’s around the world. I ate a Nutella sushi for dessert, it was shockingly great.

Everyone headed to the AMERICAN COCKTAIL BAR afterward.

Most of us feel more American now that we’re in France. I’m even prouder of my country, and I get excited when I hear American music or meet other Americans, wherever they’re from. The bar is run by an American who speaks fluent French, and it’s pretty low-key. Our group basically dominated the bar.

We went downstairs to play beer pong, and I had an awesome time watching everyone else get busy in the beginning. By 12:30, most of the girls had left, but Ava and I stayed with the boys. It ended up being a good decision on our part.

Birthday Boy got wasted and accidentally broke a glass, which shattered onto the ground. I knew from the start that one of us would end up stepping on the glass.

As I jumped up and down during someone’s round of beer pong, my sandal caught a piece of glass, and my foot immediately began to bleed. Ava’s French friend, Julien took charge and ordered Phillipe to get tissues and water. Julien calmed me down and assured me that I was going to be OK. He looked at my cut and put pressure on it once we had paper towels. I was like, “Ava, if you want to date him, you should, he’s the only gentleman I’ve met in France.” I always freak out when I get hurt, so it was very nice to be taken care of. What can I say, I’m constantly a damsel in distress.

My foot ended up being fine. It stung a little, but I stopped listening to my mother’s voice in my head. At age 7, my brother stepped on a piece of sharp glass. My mom was so nervous, she fainted. She’s always warned me that glass incidents lead to foot amputation. Thank God she was wrong. I quit listening to her voice in my mind after much reassurance from Julien.

By the end of the night, my other foot was covered in blood. After watching a bunch of rounds of beer pong and hanging out with friends, I started walking up the stairs and felt a lot of wetness on my other foot.

“Are your feet wet?” I asked Phillippe.

“Nope.”

I looked down, and my right foot was drenched in blood. Whether or not it was mine, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t believe that both of my feet were bleeding profusely in one night. I never even felt it start.

Somehow, the nail in my foot cut the skin, and as Julien said, the feet bleed more than most body organs. I really hate that I have the worst luck, but at the same time, it’s hysterical.

Right now, it’s 3:30 a.m., and Ava and I just got home. I have an essay to write, but I don’t care. This is such an amazing city. Only in Paris would a bar tender keep a bar open for a group of students until 8 a.m. That happened on Ben’s last American Cocktail Bar excursion. Sadly, we had to leave at 2:30, but all was right in the world.

And now, school is my number one priority. I have to say, I’m much happier when I go out with my friends at night. They just have to convince my old-lady mentality to stop being lazy. Once I’m out, all is well, but I need that extra encouragement because I love sleep.

Rude Natives, la Fete de la Musique

21 juin 2009

Paris is basically a non-stop party 24/7, so it makes sense that organized celebrations provoke violence and rowdiness. Yesterday was the Fete de la Musique, which entails free concerts all over Paris. I was very, VERY disappointed to miss Jason Mraz, Sean Paul, and Flo Rida perform by the Bastille. I had to go to the Comedie Francaise for class. I would have much rather lost 28 Euro for the free show.

Ava and I went to the Comedie Francaise, and then we took the metro home. Everyone was out of control on the ride back. There were gangs of teenage boys and girls doing dance and sing-offs, and it was unbelievably amusing to watch. The metro was delayed to cater to the insanity. People were screaming, dancing, shouting, and acting completely insane on every metro bus, all with respect to the Fete de la Musique.

One group of guys was super loud on our metro train. I tried ignoring them, but one of the guys yanked my bag of candy out of my hands, ate the majority of my gummy worms, and left two for me in the bag.

“Merci beaucoup,” I said sarcastically. “There are no gentleman in this city!!!!”

And I’m right. None of these guys gives up their seats for women, they dress nicer than they should, and they’re inconsiderate. Exhibit B:

I was confused as to why the metro stopped completely, so I approached one of the hooligan guys.

“Qu’est qu’il passé?” I asked in French, which means ‘what’s going on?’

“I don’t know, I don’t speak English!” he said, and he started laughing at me.

“I’m speaking to you in French,” I said in French.

He just continued mumbling about “moronic Anglophones” and sat in the chair behind me. I made it a point to tell him that he was pathetic for making fun of a non-native speaking who was clearly trying out the French language. It was so mean. He’s the reason why so many amazing French people have the unfair stereotype of being rude and snobby. It’s such a shame that people like him make the French look like bad people.

He apologized a minute later, and he kept saying, “BRAVO! YOU’RE FROM CALIFORNIA! WEST COAST! YEAH!” to make up for his disrespectful behavior.

No matter how drunk you are, you should never laugh at someone just for being from a certain country. There’s no excuse for being a jerk. Now I fully empathize with non-native English-speakers who are far too often abused and taunted in the United States.

Ava and I made it home within an hour, and we saw that there was a techno Fete de la Musique party going on right outside our apartment complex. We danced for an hour straight. After going out dancing several times in Europe alone, I’ve noticed that Europeans dance much more casually than Americans. I’m always the crazy dancer at these Euro dance parties. Ava and I were all over the place while everyone else just kind of moved from side to side. The handful of outgoing dancers gravitated toward us, and it was lots of fun. It’s weird that dancing is so laid-back here. I must say, it’s a relief not to see people basically having sex on the dance floor. Unfortunately, high school dance memories of girls wearing clothes two-sizes too small while grinding up on pubescent boys will forever remain in my mind.

Ava and I are learning to detect Americans. It’s pretty easy, actually. Any large, enclosed group is usually made up of Americans. We met a bunch of Californians at the Fete de la Musique last night. We knew before striking up conversation that these people were American. It’s obvious in the way they dress, laugh, talk, carry themselves, interact with others, and smile. Americans appear all-around happier than Europeans. Whether or not that’s true, I really don’t know, but I get the feeling that Americans fell more fulfilled.

We notice lots of open groups, and those are usually composed of Europeans or tourists from other countries. I don’t really know why Americans feel the need to huddle up so much…

Ava and I didn’t get enough sleep last night. We were really tired in class, and we were even more exhausted for the Arizona in Paris treasure hunt, which consisted of the entire group running around the Champs-Elysees for 2.5 hours. Everyone was angry, tired, hot, and frustrated. The treasure hunts are not fun at all. A few people kept saying that they didn’t pay thousands of dollars to do childish activities. Everything else is fun, but I’m the first to admit that the treasure hunts are ridiculous.

Thankfully, we visited the Arc de Triomphe first. We climbed to the top, and the stairs really got to everyone. Ava, Alex, and I felt pretty dizzy, and my heart was pounding for two minutes after I finally made it to the top of the steps. A few people were shaking. We’ll all feel sore tomorrow.

The view from the top was worth it.

Ava and I had dinner with the kids tonight, and the girls finished pretty early. Marine was adorable, she said, “After dinner, you can take a nap, do your homework, or PLAY WITH ME!” She said the last line really fast. Ava wanted to sleep, but I agreed to play a game with Marine and Anais.

They get frustrated when I don’t understand their games, but they understand that I get confused by some of their orders. It can be really hard to understand Anais. She has that high-pitched 6-year-old voice, which I can barely even comprehend in English!

They were hilarious, though. We always play this rope type game. The family just got a new TV, and the girls put on a semi-dramatic TV show where this woman started beating a car out of anger. I mentioned that the show probably wasn’t appropriate, and then I headed back to the room to do homework.

Today was long and exhausting, and we have so much ahead. We’re off to Brittany and Normandy this weekend. And then, I’ll have two weeks left in the program. Where has the time gone?

Very, Very Bad Day

I’ll update more later, but today has been awful. I tell you because I feel less alone when I know you’re reading my entries. In a nutshell, I’m having major issues with my classes and I  got into huge trouble for a complete accident. I’ve been told multiple times on this trip that I am too old to make certain mistakes in French and in my essays in general.

Thank God for my entire host family, Ava, Caroline S., Maya, Valentina, and our new French buddy, Julien, who rescued my profusely bleeding foot last night. Otherwise; I would feel so alone in this city. I love Paris, but the next few weeks are going to be tough. I miss you guys so much. I feel like I am back in 5th grade where I struggled in school and had issues with the small class environment. I am trying really hard not to be upset or think about going home to CA.

Sorry to get emotional. Ill explain when I have more time. For now, I need a hug and a pick me up. Otherwise, I am not sure I can handle the next 16 days in this program.