New Year's Reflections

Lengthen My Days

• Do more with my free time; I want to do Salsa with a friend
• Get a lava lamp
• Join UWA gym
• Learn how to play acoustic guitar
• Continue to speak French to my Francophone friends
• Write letters to the friends I have made here
• Totally doing paintings for new appt: perhaps a nice, new easel would be useful to own
• Explore dress-making: I'm sure I could come up with some wonderful creations
• Less facebook
• Go on one of those bush-walking things (orienteering I think) that Caro and Linden do.

Planning Euro Trip

OMG.
Way too many decisions to make.

17th Feb 2012                                 11h00
Flight SQ333 Economy class
Aircraft: 388

18th Feb 2012                                  14h44
Arrival in Perth

Emailed Viktoria and Anne about staying with them in Berlin and Innsbruck, but yet to receive a response.

Was going to go to England, but decided that it was too difficult, what with changing currency and whatnot. Still England, England...

Going to Berlin, Nuremberg, Innsbruck.
More later...

William Blake

William Blake. 1757–1827

489. The Tiger

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies	5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?	10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp	15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?	20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

T.S. Eliot

Since commencing literature studies here at Paris 3, I think I think differently.

I am different.

I am plus soutenue.

I am more aware of beauty.

The beauty of the written thought, of words and clever looks.

Marble, now has a heady attraction for me. I go to the Louvre as often as time permits me to trace the contours of these magnificent attestments to man's ability to imitate and create.

 I think that I'm more poetical: that my cup runneth over with expression and elegant weaving of words in the air like great clouds of the ever-intangible thought.

Feeling ever so poetical this evening, I thought that I would leave off with the elegant patter that is the words of T.S. Eliot.

Little Gidding

(No. 4 of 'Four Quartets), Part V

T.S. Eliot

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

Thoughts

I'm really trying to take advantage of everything here...like the musees!

Friday night, I went with Maria Elena to the Louvre and we did drawing of the Victoire de la Samothrace.

When we had just about finished, a cute boy with red headphones came up to us and asked if he could see our drawings and we gladly did so. Enterprising Maria swiftly asked him to take a photo of us with her fancy camera, one pretending to draw, the other displaying our creations.

It only occurred to me later that he was probably trying to flirt with us <3

As we had arrived late, we had scarcely any time after the first drawing to look around. Maria brought up the point that the French had stolen so many works from Italy- including peintures, sculptures and statues.

I begged her to teach me more Italian and she did so graciously: some words were much more rude than others !

Che fottuta puttana, troia, zoccola e baldracca! La BRUTTA!! Si, si Vittoria ha ragione!

I really hope to return to Italy next year, hopefully in January and see my lovely copines italiennes.

We had a quick look around but soon had to leave.

Had another look at the Chrissy Markets and then had a cup of Vanilla tea at Maria's.

Bliss!

Wishlizt=Mes Kiffes

WISHLIZT 

Mes Kiffes

(so much cooler with a zed)

1. Doc Martens: So Insanely cool. ALL the colours.

Je les convoite.

"Une paire en rose, s'il vous plait. Et jaune.

Et celle-ci en orange.

Ouais, je prendrai celle-la en vert pour completer mon look.

2. Red Lipstick: I didn't bring one to Paris! Silly girl!

Mais, qu'est-ce que tu dis!

Une belle, jeune femme ne doit pas jamais quitter la maison sans de la rouge a levres...

C'est mauvais pour la sante, Coucou...

3. Liquid Eyeliner
Lost mine...

Homesickness, December funsies

Dear Diary,

This might be too soon, but I want to make sweet, sloppy love to you.

Love Tori xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But in all seriousness let's address the things running through my mind.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

So I've got until January 15th before I finish classes properly, two weeks afterwards in Paris until the rent finishes up and then after being kicked out, I'm going to Rome, Pompeii, Germany and England. I think.

I've yet to book anything. It's hard to make decisions about where to go!!
I need to ring Mummikins to ask her advice: a queen of travelling.

I was feeling a bit blue today. I will blame it on this crappy, crappy weather we have been having. Oh why did I ever complain about it being too hot?

I slept two hours on Tuesday night and hence went to bed at 6pm yesterday afternoon, a Wednesday. Was went to go to a "Seven Deadly Sins ou Les Sept Peches Capitaux" party but slept through it waking at half-past Midnight. Asleep again at nearly 6am and then up at 11am.

I spent the morning doing nothing except for quickly learning the Passe Simple (a written past tense that doesn't exist in English).

Went to Linguistics class and fell into a sullen and disinterested mood.
This could be due to:

• Not seeing friends enough 
• Hormones
• Rickety sleep patterns
• No exercise
• Unhealthy eating
• Cabin Fever, brought on by not enough hours (or any) of sunlight
• homesickness

While looking at a passage of Candide by Voltaire:
It was pretty funny when Prof. Brunner said that the classement of the lexical aspect of the verb "to have burned down a village" depended on whether you thought that it was an activity, an accomplishment or a finishing off of something.

When she further explained that it depended on whether you were considering how long it took to burn down a village the class roared with laughter.

I love linguistics.

Anyway the parentals are arriving in 10 days! Hurray for a home-cooked meal!

Assignments

Hi there.
I've been rather dull this week: that's what happens when you do no work all semester and suddenly find yourself hit with three assignments due all in the space of 1.5 weeks.

Oh, ok I did work for Linguistics, because it's really interesting; I also remember a lot about my culture lessons because I love them; furthermore I did a commentaire (in-class two hours) on the film of Le Festin de Babette for Methodology.

It's fairly unlucky that all these things are due at the same time.

Oh, I forgot that I also had a mid-term exam for Ling, and another two-hour test for Culture (commentaire).

Week (N)
Meant to have had:

• Wed: 2 h X in-class commentaire on a painting or a lettre de Mme de Sevigne
• Wed: 2 h X in-class commentaire on a film seen in-class about the significance of French Food in the text.

But Mme. Rollin was away and so all got shifted to the next week.

Week (N+1)

• Wed: 4 h X catch-up tests
• Thurs: 2.5 h X Ling. mid-term

Week (N+2)

• Fri: 3 page commentaire due on an extract of La Toison d'Or by Theophile Gautier

Week (N+3)

• Tues: an in-class expose meant to last 1/2 h on a dream out of Mrs Dalloway or 3 page commentaire with three parts (themes if you like): Due Tomorrow, FUCK!
• Fri: another commentaire due on La Toison d'Or.

I'm fully getting into this whole literature thing, however: it makes me wonder whether I would have been better off doing Lit. at school rather than TEE Art/Art History. This said, analysing literature is much like analysing a painting, perhaps even easier.

Argh, gotta to go finish this piece of work and grab some groceries.

• Capsicum
• Lettuce
• Pasta Sauce
• Eggs
• Milk
• Margarine
• Fruit
• Biscuits
• Rice
• Prawns
• Noodles.

Improvement

It is only now when I use MS Word to write my commentaire on this short story, that I realise how much my French has improved in two months. Incroyable... Que les mots coulent de mes mains qui tapent comme une sorte de machine-cerveau. TAPE-TAPE-TAF{E a l'epoque c'etait qqch je le convoitais, et que les mots me viennent comme un tropeau de moutons a un berger.

Putain de merde! Pourquoi je ne peux pas faire les accents francais avec ce putain de forme epistolaire! Je m'excuse, mes petits. Mais je me sens vraiment vivement. Je me leve tot (ok, je dirais assez tot pour moi, la Belle dormante, je fais des devoirs, et que je me sens bien!

Que la vie est belle. J'ai de la convivialite mais je peux encore perfectionner mon francais. Ce serait dommage de repartir de Paris, apres avoir tant appris. J'ai fait si tant de progres! Mon prof en Australie, nous avions dit, que la piste d'apprentissage sera dur des le depart de la premiere seance de son cours. Je dois trouver un moyen de maintenir mon bon niveau de francais a UWA pour que je n'oublie rien!

Mais je n'oublierais jamais les amis que j'ai fait ici a Paris. JAMAIS.

Things about Living Alone.

Listling Without Commentary: 19 Things About Living Alone

1. If you set a thing down, it just stays there.
2. You could die and people might not find your body for weeks.
3. There is no dissemination of responsibility. Also there is no responsibility.
4. You will feel the need to explain why you live alone so people don’t think you are a sociopath.
5. You must play music all the time. The quiet is when the weird creeps in.
6. You may feel like someone could break in and kill you at any moment, and in some ways you’re right.

Not actually possible since I live on the 6th floor and I am the only one with access to a key

7. No one ever knows where you are. Usually you are home.
8. Your fridge may just have hummus and four kinds of beer, and I guess that’s okay. Or only has tamarind and chicken stock on Sundays and equally three empty bottles of milk.
9. Things you won’t just have, unless you go out of your way to buy them yourself: band-aids, q-tips, mayonnaise, dryer sheets.
10. Accept the fact that you will never know which day the trash and recycling is picked up. Picked up everyday I think?! We have a bin man that does that for the residence.

11. You will be acutely aware of the amount of water and electricity you consume; it is alarming.
12. Try leading double lives, or triple lives, even. Quadruple is pushing it.
13. You’re either vastly weird or painfully boring when alone. You’re going to learn this The Hard Way.
14. If you leave empty bottles from multiple cases of beer out, it can look like you just had an awesome party if you play your cards right.
15. You are not an adult, nor will you be any time in the foreseeable future. Embrace that.
16. Life without furniture builds character.
17. Is it cold enough to turn the heat on? How do you know?
18. Spice it up! Buy some candles.
19. Sandwiches. Actually, no, since I never buy bread as baguettes go stale too quickly. But I do eat a metric fuckton of pasta, crackers, sweet biscuits.

Edited from:

 http://www.autostraddle.com/listling-without-commentary-19-notable-things-about-living-alone-120055/

Vacation 1: Macca comes to Paris

Three or so, days ago I returned from Belgium and Amsterdam.

Best week's vacation ever.

Thursday, Macca knocks thuddingly on my door and we grin as we hug each other. It's good to see a familiar face. He's pretty dirty looking, but it's acceptable as he's come on a bus all the way from London.

He examines my walls decorated with mementos of things past, things I'd like to see and other aesthetically pleasing things. I grin again. We exchange well-beings and he tells me of his adventures, read luxury lifestyle, while his mother was visiting him in England.

While he showers, I double check the Lamington ingredients for tonight's international dinner and email the parentals again to let them know that I'm going to try to be as unsafe as possible and that I'll try to rent one of the windows in Amsterdam's red light district.

SoonBen and his friend from Aus., S. arrive. Ben is super excited to compare notes with Ian: he adores the fact that they left within days of each other. I watch on bemused and ask the instructions for the Lams.

I leave to purchase my Erasmus a Paris ticket for Amsterdam so that I can join them there in a weeks time. Ian and I have an interesting time trying to find Mouss (l'organisateur) near Grands Boulevards metro. Turns out he is in the nearest Quick; It's a fast-food chain.

We run back, to find that all the Lams are done and that they have also helpfully consumed 8 in the process. We have fun on the ride even though I forget to get off at the connecting station Belleville.

Such a plethora of food, it's a shame that my eyes are bigger than my stomach.

"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk"... although Zombie Shuffle is closer to it because Cafe Censier was packed.
I ended up cutting myself on some glass (Paris Glass Accident no #4) by brushing the underside of my annoyingly crunchy boots. Remind me not to do that again. I tried to ask for tweezers at the bar using the words pinceaux. I later realised at home that they looked confused because that actually means 'paintbrushes'.

I was going to crash a party with my belle italiane near Montparnasse, but I realised that I would be even more tired for my 9am class the next day (Mythology- worst class ever).


_________________________________________________________________________


Rising for class the next day was struggletown as I was trying to be really quiet. Unfortunately, I made a huge rackett trying to find my metro pass, which had fallen behind my bed. 


After class, I gobbled my 3,50EUR lunch, photocopied my passeport and then hurried to La Fontaine St. Michel jusqu'a quelques pas de la Notre Dame au centre de Paris to meet Ian for the English-Speaking tour. It was super, super-interesting.

We left early, and while I packed, I-dog cooked the eggs and lardons (french bacon cubes) in my frigo.

Galleini metro stop was our next port of call.
Being typically French, the ticket-guy questioned our non-printed out copy of our E-TICKETS!? N'avez-vous pas la capacite de comprendre le sens de E-TICKET?! Another W.T.F. (Welcome to France) moment.

Maccarena and I snacked on green-beans, tomatoes and apples on our way there, chatting like two ducks in a pond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
REVELATION: When you live in Paris, it's like the world doesn't exist. But when you leave, you realise that there is so much to discover. It's easier (more elegant) to express this sentiment in French.

Quand vous habitez a Paris, il est comme le monde n'existe pas. Mais quand vous sortez de Paris, il y a bien un monde. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Gent or Gant is beautiful. I love the coloured brick buildings with their canals and the quaint triangular frontages (s'il l'expression existe). Gent, Gent, I would like to raise children there so that they too, might be adorable and quaint.

We laughed at all the Dutch words and were particularly amused with one type of food available (you must ask me about it next time we talk). The map we had was useful if you weren't actually trying to find any of the highlights marked on it. It was a bit more like a cryptic crossword.

"So the Chocolate and Books shop is shown here on Leidenzjeilstraat!"

"Ahhh, that must means that you take two lefts at Grinjeilstraat, then turn 180 degrees at the Apotheek, give thanks to the Mystic Lamb (no joke, this exists) and then it will be directly opposite Rembrandtplein, just past the sewing bar."

We bought a 2EUR block of chocolade, and sat down contemplating the active brownie scouts in the square who were screaming at harmonic intervals. We concluded that they were anti-rape calls (although nobody was paying them any attention, so slightly ineffectual).

We re-pursued our search for the above attraction and in two minutes were sat down to sickeningly sweet Belgian hot chocolate and complimentary brownie bits at the back of the cozy parlor. Macca tinkled out the Australian National Anthem on the pianny there, and was promptly approached by a waitress who sweetly informed him that he was giving her a headache and would he kindly stop?

As we left, I laughing, he sheepish, we cursed them in yiddish and re-examined our map. The cheap bastards that we are we tried to find the Town Hall and the acclaimed Huge Lollipop also on our curious map. The Town Hall was inaccessible; the Huge Lollipop, a cruel lie destined to disappoint highly erudite culture-samplers like ourselves. We contented ourselves with finding a street full of shoes strung up over a high power-line and wondered how many Gent-ians were now walking around bare-footed because of it.

After exhausting most of the town's fine charms, such as a castle not far from our hostel which looked like those plastic Fischer-Price ones, we made the 1.5km journey over cobblestones (my shitty case amused itself by overturning at every opportunity) to the Train Station south of the city.

After observing a true Fat Controller who was a wearing a uniform that really accentuated his abundant sweaty curves we shot off to Brugges.

To be continued...

Quelques Pensees // More Thoughts

Paris in the Rain is SHIT.
A month ago I saw the film, Midnight in Paris,

The protag. is named Gil.
A successful screenplay writer.
Fiance a une belle et jeune femme riche qui ne l'apprecie pas.
Anyway, even though he can't speak French, he finds Paris gorgeous, stunning, aweful. His future in-laws couldn't give a stuff, and take taxis everywhere- this is hugely unrealistic in my opinion, because getting around Paris in a taxi would waste so much time. Paris is an extremely hard city to drive through. FOOLS.

According to him: // D'Apres lui:
Cities have transcendental beauty in the rain.
Paris is better in the rain.
While his fiancee spends a minute exploring the insides of her eye sockets, he bullshiterbates along this line of thoughts (je pense que si t'es pas anglophone, tu ne vas pas arriver a comprendre ca.)
I think the writers thought that it sounded nice and poetical.
Being in that rain as opposed to eating biscuits and patisseries in the Ritz in the 1er watching the rain are two very different things altogether. Yesterday (as now it's almost 00h30) I spent about 45 minutes dans la pluie en raison d'avoir oublie ma para-pluie chez moi. Quel Malchance!!
Anyway, I passed the Pantheon and walked around the 5th. I love how close everything in Paris is. It's about a 25 minute walk from Uni to the Notre Dame. From my appt. in the 11th  it's only a 1h45 walk.
I ended up taking a very circular path. It was a bit nostalgic walking around there en retrouvant all the streets and shops I saw in the first week I arrived in Paris. I realised how much of an impression it left on me- I was only there for about 4-5 days yet it seems as if I spent 2 weeks there. I've changed so much since then.

A little less afraid, more confident, I'm a parisienne now, I know where I'm going and what my purpose is.

UNORIGINAL MEN
When sleazy men call out to me on the street, it doesn't bother me, I don't even look at them.
I make like a french girl and keep on walking with purpose, orientation- quoi.
If anything, it's a bit repetitive. Come on guys, be a little bit more original!

• Being asked for "a little French kiss" outside a pub in Chatelet-Les-Halles.
• Salut!
• T'es manifique!
• Ca va
• WOW!
• Kissy noises at me.
• Wolf-whistled

Not trying to claim at all, because this happens to most girls. Especially foreigners.
I probably stand out here because at one end of the bell curve.


PARISIENNE, MAIS PAS FRANCAISE

• Everyone here has beautiful olive skin // I have rosy, white skin. Go figure
• French: Dark Hair // Tori: Blonde
• Dark Eyes // Blue eyes 
• ACCENT. This depends on how much English I have been speaking that day, how much time I've spent alone, how many lessons I've had that day. It's easy enough to transition into English, but harder to do the inverse. 

TANGENT
[Trust me, Paris is much better when you can speak the language, I'd recommend even enrolling in a short course at Alliance Francaise at least if you don't know any French]
Je peux pas comprendre ceux qui adore la culture francaise, qui parle de la cuisine francaise mais qui n'apprennent pas la langue du pays. Je comprends que tout le monde n'est pas doue pour les langues, c'est bien la realite. Ce n'est pas a moi a juger, mais d'etre citoyen du monde, il faut faire des efforts quand meme.

Mais, j'suis que snob. J'suis qu'une jeune meuf snob. C'est Verlan pour toi.


Voice Memos 
Possibly one of the best functions of my iPod Touch.
Why?
Because I can record my lessons. One of my teachers speaks insanely fast and the words slip out of my head before I can write any coherent notes. I like to play her at half-speed (in theory, only just started to do this).
Also because I can record groovy buskers on the street.

Boring Copy and Paste Information: Skip to Last/Next Post

General Paris day-trips (from Paris)
http://www.parislogue.com/beyond-paris/day-trips-from-paris-2.html


Parc Astérix,

• Tonnerre de Zeus, the biggest wooden roller-coaster in Europe
• Goudurix, one of the most impressive loop-the-loops in Europe, and many others.
• The park is open from the 8th of April to the 15th of October.
• Take RER B3, get off at Charles de Gaulles airport terminal 1 and take the Parc Astérix shuttle (it leaves every 30 min).
• Buy the Forfait Loisirs card that offers a reduced price combination: a transport ticket for the return journey by RER (+ metro from Paris) and the shuttle bus to the Park, and a coupon for admission to the Parc Astérix. 
• On arrival at the ticket desks, you'll exchange your coupon for an admission ticket. 
• Possible to buy the entrance tickets together with shuttle bus ticket at the CDG Terminal 1 at the "Information" stand.
• The best time for visit is in the morning, earlier than crowds, so that you could enjoy all the attractions without queue. Nevertheless, you spend some time waiting for your turn especially to get to Tonnerre de Zeus and Goudurix (all the adults go there first and then to all the other attractions).

BNP Paribas- Partner Banks overseas

	Bank of America Plus de 18 000 distributeurs à travers les Etats-Unis.
	Barclays Plus de 3 000 distributeurs à travers le Royaume-Uni, plus de 6 000 en Afrique du sud, 190 en Afrique auxquels s'ajoutent 3 800 automates Woolwich.
	BNL 1900 distributeurs en Italie
	Deutsche Bank Plus de 2 500 distributeurs dans les pays couverts.
	Fortis Belgique 2 500 distributeurs en Belgique.
	Scotiabank Plus de 2 700 distributeurs au Canada, 350 à travers les Caraïbes, 115 au Chili, 11 en Guyana et plus de 1 000 au Mexique.
	Westpac Plus de 1600 distributeurs en Australie, 500 en Nouvelle-Zélande et 32 dans le Pacifique sud.
	Ukrsibbank 1384 distributeurs en Ukraine.

Bucket List: Europe

Edit: After making this list I really wish that I lived in Europe. Europeans have NO IDEA how lucky they really are.
I have been meaning to do this for ages:

• Louvre on a Friday night: from 18h00-22h00 free for students
•  Royal Castles of Neuschwanstein and Linderhof Day Tour from Munich, Munich, Germany: 
  Visit fairytale castles Neuschwanstein and Linderhof, built in French Rococo and neo-Romanesque style by eccentric King Ludwig II and hidden deep in the Bavarian mountains.
  
  
• Monter la Tour Eiffel: deja fait avec ma belle cousine, Rosemea.
• Naples and Pompeii Day Trip from Rome, Rome, Italy: 
  Ride along the Highway of the Sun, crossing the Castelli Romani, dotted with enchanting medieval villages, then, continue across Naples’ historic center, before visiting the ancient city of Pompeii.
  
  
• L'arc de Triomphe: avec Maria et Stefano
• Go to Duplex Nightclub: free before 00h30 for girls, 16e.
• Mixte Nightclub
• Notre Dame Tour: Suprisingly free, yet such a long line to get in. Have to go in the morning one day.
• See the Tour Eiffel light up at night: at 22h00 and 23h00- done this at least five times
• Faire une nuit blanche: x 3 already :P
• Berlin: My friend Viktoria lives there, but she won't be there when I go. Perhaps, she can recommend some places to me.
•  Stonehenge, Windsor Castle and Bath Day Trip from London, London, England: 
  Discover the wonder and mystery of Windsor Castle, home of the Royal Family for 900 years, then step back in time to Stonehenge and the elegant Georgian architecture, Roman spa and Pump Rooms of Bath.
  
  
• Learn more Italian: at a rate of knots. Oral Italian anyway (no innuendo intended)
• Learn more German: Daniel or Viktoria.
• Munich
• Tate Museum, England
• La Belgique
• Holland: ride a bicycle, Anne Frank Musee, take some beautiful photos, look at the prostitutes in the red light district, meet some beau gosses hollandais la-bas. I am going to assume that all Holland-ish (je rigole) people are stunning, just like that Dutch girl I went to school with. Curse them!
• Ski-ing: Maybe I won't have enough money for this, maybe I will...
• London
• Do some more drawings of Paris, fool: Already bought a nice sketch-book and pens for this purpose.
• Rome: I have lots of Italian friends here and I think that most of them come from Roma.
• Decorate my appt
• Get a table
• Send some postcards.
• Switzerland?
• Edith Piaf's former appt.
• Les marches de puces
• Buy something at the Belleville markets
• Centre Pompidou: Free, generally open 11h-18h (10h on w/e, 20h Thursday-Saturday).
• Get portrait done in Montmatre: did this as a child, would be interesting to have a comparison.
• Climb to the top of the Sacre-Coeur
• Visit Sacre-Coeur
• Chateau de Versailles: Should have gone when the weather was nicer. Damn.
• Les Invalides: Gratuit pour les residents de l'Europe moins de 26ans De 10h à 17h, (17h30 le dimanche)
• Musée de l'Armée 
  Hôtel national des Invalides
  129 rue de Grenelle, 75007 PARIS

Le delire et les reves d'enfance.

Sunday night, I had the genius idea of adding some rice that I had cooked and frozen to my simple meal of vegetables.
Bad Idea.
I forgot that my freezer is dodge as.
You can imagine the kind of night I spent.
Luckily I had no classes on Monday, that would have been catatrophic.
This is my first experience of food poisoning ever and hopefully the last. Luckily, I threw up so many times during the month I was sick in Perth before leaving for Paris, that I knew exactly what was coming and could prepare.
That's one of the sucky things about living alone: you have to be completely self-reliant, even when you are sick.
I went to the pharmarcy today and told her about my situation and she gave me some pain-killers and some  medicaments to re-instate the balance of my stomach or something. As I was feeling a bit dizzy and out of it, I didn't really pay much attention.

For K5051, Recits et Reves d'Enfance (Narratives and dreams of childhood) we have to read Freud's psychoanalytical interpretation of the dreams which occur in the novella, Gradiva (1901) by W. Jensen.

The next bit is a bit thick so if you only the summary of it, just read the yellow bits.

I started to read this last night (I should have read it by last week, but I missed the first cours so I didn't know this). Gradiva is a really interesting nouvelle a lire parce qu'il s'agit d'un jeune archeologue qui tombe amoureux d'un bas-relief d'une jeune femme pompienne qui fut morte en 79 a cause de l'eruption de Mt. Vuseve  [a young archaeologist who falls in love with the form of a young Pompeian woman who died in 79 AD during the eruption of mount Versuvius]. Due to her unusual walk, he names her Gradiva, meaning she who walks ahead. This imaginative German youth, while in Pompeii dreams about the destruction of the city and the death of the young woman. This dream no doubt rivetted Freud, because there were so many elements that he could tirer du reve which demonstrates the relevance of his new and unconfirmed theories- he spends some time analysing it.

This dream d'angoisse exprime son desir pour avoir une femme certe, vivante, reele. 
The next morning he flees the town for Roma, but he is troubled by all the happy jeunes maries. Meme s'il est inconscient, ces couples le genent parce qu'il n'a pas une femme vivante a lui. On comprend cet origine/raison apres la decouverte de Zoe Bertang, sa ancienne voisine et son amour d'enfance. etc. etc.
He then goes even further South to escape these newlyweds who seem to have invaded every museum, every hotel and street, but finds that there are still cent exemplaires de ces Venus et Poppilon, ces Augustes et Grete. (Auguste, mon amour- Grete ma douceur). He dreams about one of these young couples represented by Venus and some other figure of antiquity expressing their love for one another. Of course, Freud whose theory is focused on the idea that dreams express nos desirs dans une facon cachee completely ignores this dream as it is obvious what it means- it doesn't give him anyway to demonstrate his theory.

Anyway the long and the short of it is that the main character, Nobert, returns to Pompeii and he stumbles across a woman identical to his Gradiva. He speaks to her in Latin, then in Greek only to have her reply, "If you wish to speak to me, you must do so in German".
After a short conversation, she swiftly leaves, leaving Nobert (what a crappy name), completely confused: Is this just a figament of his imagination or is this Pompeiian woman real?- And that is the basis for the rest of the story.


But I won't bore you anymore with these notes of mine.

I now I have to read Freud's interpretation of Gradiva.

I was in my arm chair last night.
My legs en repos on the mono-chair of ma chambre.
Wearing my ski-pants and jacket.
Reading Gradiva.
Presque en dormant.
I read the book: dream-like state.
Whenever je lis en francais, c'est toujours comme je suis en train de rever.
Je laisse couler les mots sur mon esprit, comme l'eau sur le dos en me lavant.

It's interesting to have this double-state of dreaming.
Dreaming, almost falling asleep.
Reading about le delire et les reves du jeune archeologue, Nobert.


Although this unit is a bit recherche, it gives something for my mind to chew on at the very least.

An Adventure Filled Weekend.

Dear Paris,


You are amazing, but you already know this. Even after six weeks I still think that you are beautiful.


Love Tori xx

Yesterday, I participated in Les Olympiades at Cite U.

Leaving only 1/2 hour before I was sure I would be late, but a little bit of old-fashioned running ensured that I was only 5 minutes late.

Some fun activities -I the ever-sporty representative of Australia- was going nuts cheering for our enthusiastic but nevertheless losing team of Paris 3, all dressed in purple.

Had lunch with two boys from the red team (Paris 8, I think?)- one egyptian, the other moitie italien, moitie francais and a Chinese girl called Louise from my team. Her friend (South Korean), came over to have a look at what we were doing. After she found out that I was an Aussie, we discovered that not only had she been to PERTH, of all places, but she had also done some studies at UWA. What are the freaking chances?!

For lunch, I had Poulet et frites, une salade de carottes et un yaourt all for the insane price of 3,10EUR.
INSANE.

After lunch, more activities and I managed to get more bruises, one even on my fingertip (slight swelling).

I had to leave at 15h30 to get to Bobino Theatre near Montparnasse tower to see Voca People. Incredible. I kept thinking of how much all the girls in the Animando Barbershop at St. Hilda's would have loved it.

After the show, I chatted to my friend Alizee and her godfather's family, who came with us. We departed swiftly to my apartment in the 11th.

I took Alizee to the Eiffel Tour as it lit up at 20h00.

There were some Mexican musicians and we were dancing to the Salsa music.

We took a Carousel ride and then ate a crepe in front of the Eiffel tower- beautiful moments.

Then accidently met two Germans and a Turkish girl who were trying to get to Rue Oberkampf(like two streets from me). I thought one of them was Irish as he had a funny accent (they spoke in English to each other) which is why I started to talk to them. Luckily they met up with me, because they had the completely wrong station in mind! 




Then we danced the night away in a Bar called Mercano. Returned home at 5am (didn't really have dinner except for a fromage crepe in front of the TOUR EIFFEL). Today was Skypery and laziness. Need to really get my study on and plan what to do after Amsterdam.

Update 2:

So from our last session you didn't really answer the question...so what has changed?
I haven't watched television in over a month.

I've cooked nearly every single meal for myself.

I have had to mop and do every single last household task. I pay rent, I clean, I have bought a lamp, books, mops, brooms, kitchenware.

I have learnt that I need to feed myself at regular times to stay happy and healthy.

Living on the 6th floor of my building with the lift broken, stairs no longer phase me. AT ALL.
I practically skipped up the Arc de Triomphe on Monday night: Note that cela comprend 50m vertically.

I do my own grocery shopping. The way I know whether a shop is expensive is by the price of bananas. At the tri-weekly farm markets trois pas de ma residence le prix de bananes est 0,99EUR le kilo. I used to shop at Simply Market (2,34EUR le kilo) down the room, but a week ago, I discovered a big Asian supermarket. It's way cheaper: Bananes? 1,30EUR le kilo!!!


The simplest metro route is nearly always the best chemin. Changing metro lines sometimes requires you to walk kilometres underground.


In short, I have had to be a strong, independent black woman.

Update 1: Friends and Language

So I've been here for 1.5 months.

Seven weeks.

49-ish days.

Many moments.

Wow.

Let's imagine this as an interview in a smoky, dark cafe called L'Assasin in the hip, but louche Belleville.

So what has changed?
What has changed? Can you be more specific?

For instance how has your life changed since moving into your new apartment?
Well, making new friends has been a huge change. At the Orientation session on 13th September all the Erasmus kids (that's the European exchange program), Ben (othe exchange student from UWA) and I were ramasses into an Amphi at the Censier Campus (not far from a Natural Science museum or the Mosquee de Paris).

Sat two rows from the front, we chatted to our neighbours who were Austrichienne and Cheque respectively. After being force-fed with information (tons of renseignments) we made a quick exit and had lunch in a creperie nearby. I, being a Tori, helped them finish of course. Janka complained that the cigarettes in France are too expensive: very interesting because I assume that they are much cheaper here than in L'Australie. 


Je suis desolee si tu ne comprends pas francais, mais ca me gene de temps en temps, de reflechir sur ma vie parisienne, sans ecrire dans la langue du pays.


Racing ahead to the language component, I am starting to melange my French and English. This is natural as I am taking on French as my No. 1 langue.

I'm also learning lots of italien as I have many beautiful Italian friends with their olive skin and exotic eyes. When I say lots, I mean I'm using useless phrases such as:


I spaghetti mi piace. Mi ciamo Vittoria.La Marmalatta di fragele di bosco e orgasmica.


Sono una bella ragazza. Vorrei una chocolata. PREGGO. Andiamo. 


Preggo is by far my favourite word in any language.


I also have some German friends. I like German (the language) now. I always used to think that it was an ugly language. Now I find it kind of cute: it's a bit like listening to aliens talk.

Wasser. Kirsch. Bitte schon. Danke schon. Heil Hitler. Swartzvalder Kirschetorte mit Slagg zhana (don't hate me if I spelt that wrong, I've never done ANY German in my life, apart from orally. Oh god, that sounds so wrong).


In some ways I feel like a bit of a language dunce as I only speak two languages. Some people here seem to speak about five fluently! I blame Australia and our lack of interest in foreign languages.

Sometimes having the international language as your mother tongue puts you at disadvantage: of course it mainly rocks.

One way I can tell that my French is rapidly improving: often when I skype I can only think of the French that refers to the abstract picture in my head. Those of you who skype with me will know this.

Now this is retarded you might think, but it happens to me all the time. Much safer en francais.


En parlant francais, le truc est qu'il y a toujours des mots francais qui me manquent: Mais, bien sur. 

Omelette

Here I am.

Staring down at my plate. No, no, staring is even too soft a word for this.

Eye-balling at the miettes on my assiette.

And then it hits me.

Why the fuck did I cook omelette?

I hate omelette.

To be fair, it's not really an omelette. You'd think that it was more of a really sad, handmade attempt at an ommlette. If I was an amputee, say with no arms whatsoever (a bit like that man I saw the other day at the Belleville Markets), it would be acceptable to call it an omelette.

Earlier, in one of those inspired moments, I grab three or four eggs, my 250 EUR/kilo chives, a tomato and a too generous amount of blue vein cheese. I mix it all together. It looks like liquid magic. This is going to work out, methinks. In fact it will be so delicious and irrestible that if I lived in pre-revolutionary France, it would be the kind of dish that you would only present before King Louis'.

I cook it on one side and a nice bottom skin forms. As I go to turn it over, I realise that I have no egg slice. None at all. This is what happens when you get to a CROUS appartment and have not been informed that there is no cutlery, towel, bed linen etc. You continually have to go out and buy kitchenware.

Not to worry, says that high-pitched optimistic voice in my head. Just use a wooden spoon and you'll be John. That's not actually an expression, but I take my lead from Hamish and Andy.

It's ok, I'll just use my wooden spoon.

This is diaster. I've turned it on itself and now it will burn on the outside and be an eggy goo.

There is only one sad, but enivitable solution. I, in a staccato manner, flail the wooden spoon around the pan and end up with something that highly ressembles dog sick. Well, if dog sick had a much too large percentage of blue vein cheese in it.

I eat it anyway, but if I'm being honest, the blue vein just takes over. I discover that it cannot be tamed even with pan-fried bread (this is what happens when you fry stale french bread, because you have no toaster).

And at the end, when the optimistic voice fades to a whisper, another voice, but much more domineering and bass snickers and vocalises (also probably not a word) snidely a certain doomful expression.

HEAVE HO!

Life Lessons/Arrivee

J'ai arrived a Paris il y a trois jours et je suis en train de decouvrir "la cite de l'amour". 

I can't believe how amazing this city is. It's funny but I didn't really think about the fact that I was going to PARIS.

Oh yeah, sure, one says Paris is incredible, there's nothing like it and it's true, but saying it and feeling it are two very different sentiments.

And I have been here three times before, but I've never discovered it for myself sans les parents. At times I wish I had my mother's skirts to hide behind I mean, I'm a strong independant black woman. Shyness, laziness? I think in my case, possibly yes.

There is a syndrome that some Japanese people have when they come to Paris and it's not as good as they expected and they get ill (sif, bro). I sort of have the opposite. As someone who knows a lot about Paris, I am very pleasantly surprised how appreciative/exultant/content/amazed I feel when I walked around Paris yesterday. I did a very epic actual >10km walk.

"I noticed a profound life lesson weaved into the [film, Bridesmaids]. The main character, Annie, has a series of “setbacks” as her best friend is preparing to get married.
As her friend’s wedding day approaches, [she] struggles — until one of the other bridesmaids confronts her: “I don’t associate with people who blame the world for their problems,” says Megan to Annie. “The world isn’t the problem… YOU are the problem. But you are also the solution.”

And then Megan proceeds to tackle Annie and pin her against the couch. “What are you DOING?” screams Annie to the husky woman tackling her. “I’m your LIFE, Annie. FIGHT BACK!” yells the bridesmaid in Annie’s face. Eventually, she finds the will to fight back"

http://creatingnewnormal.wordpress.com/2011/05/14/the-choice-to-survive/ 

I watched this move on the plane Perth-Singapore leg of the trip, and this scene now seems really, really relevant to me right now.

I am finding this really inspiring- especially when I'm feeling helpless and pathetic. I didn't come to France to be pathetic or shy or incompetant or afraid. But I have felt like this in the past couple of days.

It's partly because of the jet lag, and hugely because I keep letting my hunger levels go to critical point. No, I'm not becoming anorexic, it's just that I drift into irregular patterns and also I'm a big, fat lazy asshole. Just kidding, but I can be very lazy about doing things I need to do, like eating. Thank God for my parents or I would have starved long ago. When there is only ONE you don't really go to much effort as you don't need to impress yourself. I have noticed this when I have been at home alone while my parents have been away.

Right now, I can hear people on the street riding bikes and talking and motorbikes, and frequently these french sirens that ring out (there's a hospital 50m away beyond the end of Rue Pierre Nicole).

I am wondering whether I feel lonely? Is it better because I'm an only child?

I'm also being very miserly. I refuse to buy anything at a brasserie/cafe until I have a french bank account as I feel a little anxious about the fact that I only have 1000 EUR on the bank card and I have to pay a deposit of about 900 EUR for my accommodation demain matin.

Thank God the CROUS (accommodation for French/Parisian residents/students) is in the next street.

I have a really awesome location- you would have seen this if you have been following me on fb- and although I haven't really been getting out for ages at a time, but then I do major exploring when I am out. 

I was able to get a Navigo Pass today, which took lots of fiddling. I couldn't find where to get photos done (they don't do them at pharmacies here like in Australia) so I walked all the way down the Boulevard St-Michel very grumpily as I missed lunch and some of breakfast due to a) napping, b) throwing up after a coughing fit = sadface.

I found the crowds very irritating.

I finally was able to get the passport photos, but then they were the wrong size so had to get them done again. Mind you I need both sizes probably with all the bureaucracy here.

Went to Fnac and tried to buy a phone but they said that I needed a French Bank Account!?! What the fuck, hey. I resorted to saying that that's very French, but not nastily. The salesperson agreed with me, but said that other things here are very good.

Like street drinking for instance. I think that that's very civilised. People don't go stupid here with alcohol like they do in Perth. I've only seen one drunk here and he was a sans-abri (without nest=homeless person) anyway.