The French like just one bottle.

Something is missing here...

And apparently this is OK? In the US, you can't even open your food in a grocery store before buying it. But in Paris, anything goes (and I almost mean that to its fullest). In every store- Monoprix, Franprix, Tabacs, etc etc. packages of water, soda, juice, and even beer can be split open and sold individually. I think this is a fantastic idea. I haven't tried it myself- ripping open a package all rebellious and only buying one beer. It sounds kind of fun and dangerous. Next time I have a hankering for Amstel Light, I know where to find you!

It wasn't me your honor!

The French like Menus

and by "Menu" I mean more food for a cheaper price. All over Paris, restaurants have a reasonable lunch/dinner option called a "Menu". For a cheaper price, restaurants offer an Entrée+Plat+Dessert (Appetizer, Entree, Dessert) or a combination of two. This fabulous idea, which I don't think the US has picked up on... or have they? I can't even think of an American equivalent off the top of my head. Not a buffet.... oh my gosh. someone help me out here.
In Saint Michel, the ethnic restaurants are flooded with Menus ranging from 10 euro to 15 euro. That's about $15-25. Not cheap, by our small town standards where ordering beef with your Japanese pan noodles at Noodles & Co. is a financial risk. Here, getting you an appetizer, an entree, and dessert for under $20 is quite the financial upgrade.
However, I can't be spending that kind of money every weekend night (although, doesn't mean that I don't...) when I'm on my own. However, it is something every Parisian tourist should try- you get to try a wide range of French food for a moins cher price. My belly and wallet like it too.

My Entree (or Plat in French).
This is just 1/3 of the entire meal!
Ow Karumba!

These photos are a bomb. urghhh

Me at "Le Chat Qui Peche"
which means "The cat who fishes".. I think.
Anyways, I'm eating Moules (again).
And that's just the appetizer. 

What I Like

The view from my window at sunset. 

• Book Off- stumbled into this bookstore looking for the French version of Harry Potter. After finishing the seventh for the second time, I'm having Potter withdrawals. Therefore, reading the first one in French is improving my skills and I'm back into my fantasy land with Potter. Anyways, this bookstore has it all. including a 1Euro section (where I bought the first three in the series). Just like Hogwarts, this place is too good to be true. 
• This fine feathered artist. Again, I see some similarities to Harry Potter. 
• Bastille Optics so this $$$ eyeglasses shop is heaven on earth. They have, hands down, the most interesting pairs of glasses. My favorite discoveries are the incredibly lightweight wooden frames in light navy and the red sparkly ones that looks like "dorothy's shoes on your face". Picture mine, but a thousand times more radiant and fabulous. 

That's all for now! Busy weeks ahead... my absence will be inevitable. 

The French like Playing Doctor

In the literal sense... I know what you're thinking dirty minds. Every student abroad student staying in Paris over 3 months is required to have a medical examination. The OFII has never been nice or easy to us clueless American students. First, don't even let me begin with the Visa process. talk about hell on earth. Acquiring a Visa takes time and lots and lots of money. Then upon your arrival in Paris, you have to succumb yourself to a medical examination in the hands of French doctors and pay $80 for a "stamp" that goes somewhere. The stereotype falls true when you find yourself in the immigration medical building (or at least that's what I'm calling it). The medical exam tests to see if you're well enough to stay in France- they check your lungs, vision, weight, height, blood pressure, etc etc. Upon arriving, there was a long queue formed by immigrants. It sort of felt like I was arriving on Ellis Island if it were in the middle of Paris in a dinky building in the year 2011. We arrived having heard two rumors: the process could take 2-3 hours and you have to be naked. Okay, I don't fancy going to hospitals in the first place, but when they ask me strip is just whole other problem all together. My name was first to be called out of our group of 20 or so from Madison/Milwaukee. Therefore, I was the first to finish and everyone who saw the tattered look drawn on my face probably got scared. Kind of like the times when you were a child waiting for a shot and then becoming swollen with fear from the screams in the opposite room. However, it wasn't so bad because it was short.
When they called my name, they gave me a quick look over- vision, weight, height- no scares there. Then they directed me to a tiny room with two doors. It kind of looked like a Gap changing room, but instead of trying on clothes, I had to take all of mine off. My first French doctor told me to wait in the room for the lady on the other side and remain topless. I started to panic because it was all happening so fast but I gave the room a quick look and saw that there wasn't a drape like in American hospital rooms to keep your modesty intact, so I asked for one but the lady ignored my requests for decency and told me to get naked. Alright then, I usually don't like taking my top off for someone whom I don't know their first name, but I sucked it up and went Brazilian. The door on the other side swung open without warning and one doctor saw me awkwardly missing some clothes due north and said something in quick incomprehensible French and returned back into her room. I peeked my head out and heard talking and saw machines... Who is on the other side? Is there a boy present? Are there other patients around? What the hell am I doing!??! So I said in nervous French "I'm ready" after I made sure I was stepping into the right room I was about to give a peep show in. The (female) doctor lead me to the X-ray sheet and she pressed me against the screen. It kind of hurt and I felt really peculiar in this pose where she made me hug the screen (topless), point my chin up (topless), and wait for 20 seconds (topless). But then it was over. She told me to go back in my room and then she locked the door behind her. So I was back in this what I-wished-to-be-Gap room and I was left clueless. How do I leave? Am I locked in? I tried the other door and it was open so I left apprehensively and made my escape. That's when my classmates saw my "i've just been exposed/violated" face and probably got really excited to have their turn. Afterwards, we were called into another room with another doctor and here they took our blood pressure and checked our heart beats. Since I had a curious older man I felt like I was recreating the Amelie scene where her father checks her rapidly beating heart and therefore determines that she has a heart defect. He ended that appointment by handing me back the X-ray of my lungs. Well, I guess this was worth taking off my top for.
All in all, I'm happy to be healthy by the French standards. I just think the OFII medical process could be tremendously improved. My friend Zoe waited 4 hours to complete her exam, whereas I was there for less than two hours. Not quite fair. Get your stuff together, France!

The French like Mussels

Escargot, Mussels... am I becoming a seafood princess? Guess what. I like mussels. Now despite the look of them, they are delectable. Don't get me wrong, throughout most of the manging of this Alien look alike, it took a lot of muscle to swallow these mussels. Just like the escargot, you eat them in a specific way. After you finish one shell, you use it as a tool to pry out the next mussel. That probably was the most enjoyable part of the experience. The least enjoyable? No not the taste... the appearance of these sea dwelling monsters. They are dreadful looking. I had thoughts running through my head that they were only playing dead at the moment I ate them, so that they can join together in my stomach and emerge from belly button later and kill me in the process and probably whoever was with me at the time until Sigourney could come out of space and kill the little bugger.
I guess only time will tell.... I've only had one stomach ache today.

The French like Museums

Museum Post Numbero Uno: Orangerie et Monet-Marmottan. Paris has over 100 museums. Even if I went to a museum each day until the day I should leave, there would not be enough time to see them all! Which means... I've got to be selective and make time for them. Paris is, after all, a lucky spot to have enormous amounts of museums since the temperament is usually drowsy and rainy. Last week I went to Le Musée Monet-Marmottan. Today I went to Le Musée d'Orangerie. Tomorrow I am Rouen/Giverny bound. These museums compliment my trip tomorrow because Monet's work was largely produced in this area. His grand horizontal portraits of water lilies are displayed at  L'Orangerie and some of his other pieces painted of his gardens and city are held at Marmottan. Seeing the work of Monet in person feels like your mind is exhaling for the first time. His pieces are incredibly dreary and dramatic. They rob any words that are trying to muster out of your mouth. A brief history of Monet: Like most artists, Monet's paintings acted as a mirror to his feelings. During the good times at Rouen and Giverny, he painted his garden with tenderness with an array of celebratory colors. However, after the turbulence of his son's and wife's death, his paintings carried his misery through his sombre pallet of paint. Either way, the work of Monet can easily provoke its viewer like sappy romance movies. I wouldn't recommend bringing tissues or anything, but the views within the museums will make you take a seat and reflect (much like a water lilied pond?) upon the power of his work.

Pictures taken at Le Musee d'Orangerie. Photos were not permitted inside Le Musee Monet-Marmotten 

The French like Parks

Le Premier Parc: Belleville Oh la la. Each day I need to set a goal for myself to take the Metro to someplace I have not been because even though this sounds impossible to the max, i want to go everywhere in Paris. (a run on sentence is an indication that you've got to spit out whats on your mind because its probably important and too hard to sum up and convey everything you would like to say, do you know what i mean? tee hee) Yesterday, I did just that and chose to go to Belleville Parc while the shy, yet blessed sun was finally making an appearance in the sky. I must rewind a bit and say that the majority of the places I have discovered should largely be credited to my christmas gift last year, Lonely Planet's travel book. The website can tell you this, but there are beautiful photos (I recommend a travel book with photos- just text in a travel book is such a drag to read. Pictures are necessary for beaming at. They get your blood flowing and your voice might skip an octave with all the excitement) of popular destinations, a map, details (with some humor sprinkled throughout the summaries of each attraction), and they are cheaper in America than in Paris. Belleville Parc has always sparked an interest of mine after I saw the movie Triplets at Belleville. The attraction of this park is that it is located 200m above sea level. For those of you who, like me, can't put dimensions into perspective, that's high enough to see the Eiffel Tower, the Pompidou, Notre Dame, chinatown, among many other areas. The park attracts a lot of french munchkins:  adorable babies, toddlers, and kids who probably should be in school. There are flowers, blooming trees, green grass, fresh air.
Positives: it's not touristy or over crowded. Parks like Jardin du Luxembourg and Jardin du Tuileries outshine the many charming and lesser known ones, like Belleville. The view. Public bathrooms. Free wi-fi. Negatives: think again. well after thinking, you may need to bring a bottle of water. the climb to the top is tres difficle, but you know it's worth it.

And enjoy the view ^^^

The French like SPRING

(I considered expressing my joyous self in "SpRiNg" script, but I cringe every time I see that lowercase-uppercase mumbo jumbo as a facebook album title so I've decided against it)
I love the obvious awareness of Spring. I swear Spring in Paris just "happened in the last five minutes" as my friend Zoe put it. Somehow there's leaves on the trees-and they're green too. People aren't wearing heavy jackets and scarves that only expose the eyes of the face. Dogs and children are slobbering and running all over the place. The sounds of luggage on wheels, the slurps of the tongue making contact with Berthillion chocolate/caramel ice cream (wait, that's me I'm hearing), the smells of freshness. I swear I've seen an upwards of 100 gorgeous french men today, which is high compared to my usual 40.... what's wonderful about Spring is that you know when it arrives. I can feel a new vibe here in Paris- things are different. This next chapter of France has tapped me on the shoulder and is ready to have me begin- and I am so ready to. Which, I guess this flood of sunshine means I might have to up my shaving routine from once a month to four times (spare yourself from the math for the number of encounters i've had with my razor since i've arrived). Unless I want to truly be "French" and go wooly mammoth. (Note: springtime means bare legs means seeing if the "hairy French" myth is true. potential blog post to follow)
Anyways, the French like Spring because who doesn't?

outside my window-which is open for marveling at the weather- there is green on those trees! hurray!

The French like Market Carts

Because "faire les courses" is important. Every day of the week, different parts of Paris have a market going on, or marché, on one street. They start sometime before I wake up and end around 2 in the afternoon. It's sort of like the Farmer's Market in Madison every day. Only here, French goods are on display for the hungry eyes. A smart little helper that many French use to their advantage are the little carts they wheel around while walking down the aisles of the markets. They resemble something I had when I was eight- an American Girl doll stroller-only caged. Luckily for the dolls, only things like fresh vegetables, out of the oven breads, cheese, crisp fruits, and homemade clothing occupy the shopping stroller. Unfortunately, my host mom doesn't have one. She goes to the markets that are right on our street and doesn't buy too much as far as I know to need one. They were once very popular, and I can assume the backup on the sidewalks that would have caused. Nowadays, I haven't seen a single store that sells them and only one out of every 6 people have one when I go to the markets in the late morning. I kind of want a wheeled market cart for an excuse to fill it up each week. Mmm I'm just imagining all the foods and smells of the markets... okay it's time to put on my shoes and grab a few euros....

The French like Ben Ricour

his music is catchy. and it makes you want to pack your valise and go dance with him on glaciers (Music Post Trois). This musician is pretty well known throughout Paris. Ben Ricour is making an appearance on May 10th in Paris to preform songs from his third album. His sings with a soft, french voice that emphasizes all the reasons why everyone needs to speak french. It would be like listening to incomprehensible poems all day. And the french word is like a massage for your mouth. Say it with me: "j'ai choisi la jupe orange". I wish that was a lyric for this next song, although I don't know how it would fit in...

here's a link for more of his fab songs

What I Like

Birdman

• This man and his weird obsession with pigeon diets. ^^^
• La Chine Massena- a white girls dream while traveling through Paris' Chinatown.
• Oysho- I think I just found my goldmine.
• Celebrating a twenty-first birthday inside a Parisian apartment and rubbing shoulders with Germans, Italians, Frenchmen, and of course Americans. 
• This lady

The French like Peculiar Bathrooms

and they prefer to share their toilets with the opposite sex. Bathrooms here are never consistent. Sometimes it's male/female, sometimes its male or female, sometimes the sink isn't in the same room as the toilet, and sometimes not even the toilet paper is in the same stall as you (NOTE: remember to grab the TP before you enter the stall and pull down your pants).
     During my first time at a pub, like any girl after one drink, I had to use the bathroom. I never really trust public restrooms, especially ones at clubs or bars or pubs, so I waited for my friends to go before I did to give me the diagnosis of the state of the bathroom. Is that weird? probably. So when two came back from the WC, they sat down and looked a bit perplexed. When they said the bathroom was shared, I didn't have to go that badly anymore. ha. Well by the end of the night, I needed to. Sure enough, in this dark, scuzzy room were two stalls and a urinal. Luckily, no dude had to go number 1 while i was in line. But really? I mean what if a guy meets a girl at a pub. and then he goes to the bathroom at some point in the night and she walks in to use the toilet, or mirror? Doesn't that kind of ruin a couple of things for them?
Other instances of this odd setup have been at rest stops. Our group had to use the same bathroom as our male teacher, male guide, and male bus driver. I mean, maybe I am being a little immature, but I am wrong to think that two separate bathrooms is the way to go? The weirdest instance I had with the bathroom was when I was at the Pompidou and I when I entered the - thank god, women's- bathroom, the girl in front of me grabbed some tissue against the wall before she stepped into her stall. So I, monkey see monkey do, grabbed some tissue as well and went in. Thank god for her, because there wasn't a spot on the wall for some TP to dish out.
And at our homestay apartments? Well, luckily for me, my toilet is in the same room as the sink. No dirty handle to worry about. However, lots of apartments I've been in have the sink in the shower room, separate from the toilet room. I wonder why they do this...

See anything missing? 

The French like Pretending they're Emily Post.

And by they I mean the Crêpe chefs. This past weekend, I had two strange experiences with my crêpe men. Pretty much thursday through saturday and bits of days during the week, I order a crêpe to mange on. They have two categories-savory or sweet and dozens of flavors and toppings. The least expensive-Sucre (sugar) is typically priced at 2 euro-lucky for me that's usually my go-to, to more expensive at 4 euro-Nutella et Banane. Well, typically I go up to the counter for "à emporter" (to go) and make my order-in polite and carefully constructed French. "Bon soir, je voudrais une sucre beurre s'il vous plai--" "no no no......." they begin to chime in (but really interrupt). I'm starting to show a pattern of needing assistance when I order something as easy as a crêpe. They tell me how I should order (which, I suppose is helpful and considerate, but its just the way they go about it) and I need to repeat after them like I walked up to this stand because I wanted to wait even further for my delicious crêpe.

This guy was really nice. This photo shows the outdoor carry-out creperie look. C'est facile pour tout le monde. 

Emily Post: "Je voudrais..."
Me: "Je voudrais"
E.P. "Je voudrais une crêpe sucre beurre"
Me "Jevoudraisunecrêpesucrebeurre"
E.P. "S'il vous plaît"
Me "S'ilvousplaît"

and then my friend Kendra always whispers in my ear "didn't you say that though?"
and I'm always wondering why they have to tell me to say thank you to them again when I did the first time. Wouldn't my first "thank-you" carry over? And then Kendra says "I heard you say thank-you!" I feel like at these moments I always puff up their feathers or something and then they probably add less sucre to my crêpe. C'est dommage. Ha. I guess it's all about enunciating your words and shoving pleases down their throats. After all, Emily Post eats manners for dinner. She wasn't French though was she? Maybe I'm the offended and sensitive one. It's probably because I didn't like the impromptu manner lesson I was given because after it happened twice, I felt a little embarrassed. It's like telling an artist how to mix her paint.

Anyways through this rant I'll end with saying to savor your english speaking country. You know how to talk amongst one another without feeling foolish. But I think foolishness will always be on the itinerary for Study Abroad experiences, yes?

Just adding this photo because he's making
 the best caramel crepe in the city.

What I Like

Weekly Recap

• The Loire Valley and its beautiful landscape of cobblestones, steep roofs, green pastures, funky puff and whomping willow trees, and fairy tale chateaux
• Angelina's- Ghirardelli got nothing on ya, Angie. Finest hot chocolate... in the universe. 
• Seeing old friends
• Recreating a photo I took in the Louvre from when I was eight. 
• Get my "hair did" in France and leaving with a successful cut all conducted in French. #winning. 
• Eating at the original French Cosi sandwich joint. At least we like to pretend it's the Grandfather Cosi.
• Going to the Moulin Rouge on a Saturday night-but just for sneak peaks. 
• Catching some rays at Le Jardin de Luxembourg. 
• Bagels and Brownies- my little French Gotham Bagels joint. All of their bagels are named after American cities. Boston is my favorite for two reasons. It's Boston and it has turkey. heaven sent. 

The French like Scooters

and they are as common as Wisconsin squirrels. So the little kiddies here love to wheel on their scooters. It's hard to miss them in Paris, because these fast paced frenchies are up and down the sidewalk, they're in the metro, they are chained to nearly every fence within a school zone, they're zooming right next to you to catch your breath and mutter to yourself "where did he just come from". At the college and lycée I teach at (middle and high school), parked scooters dominate the fence. At first I wondered why this trend is so popular. I've noticed cheap rental bikes at nearly every neighborhood I go through, so what's with the 90s fad? I got to thinking and I wonder if it is because these children have never had the opportunity to learn how to ride a bicycle. Being in a city, many apartments don't have driveways. And even if they had, I'm sure it's not a safe place to have your six year old learning how to ride. Luckily enough for me, I had a circular driveway to practice and sizeable circular neighborhood for me to master the tricycle during that period of blood, band-aids, and smiles. It's kind of sad for me to think that it might be difficult for kids to learn how to ride a bike. And if they did know how to ride, should they be riding around in the city? Probably not. Madison alone makes my 21 year old self nervous as a timid turtle. My own brother got hit by a car in madison and I actually saw a brave and seemingly unhurt dude get hit by a car on University-but he just picked up his somewhat damaged bike that was laying on the cement, threw it over his shoulder, and walked away. So scooters seem like a safer option because for the most part-they're sidewalk friendly. for the most part.
okay, back to the scooter scouts. Like I said, biking is more popular among the adults- and maybe tourists (however, in order to rent the bikes, you need a French/European credit card). So I have a better chance at swiping a scooter from some child than riding a bike. Makes me sad again-although I really don't get sad anymore- because I want the wind to blow in my hair and this song humming in my head.

The French like Aicha

oh my GOSH i love Aicha (french music post number two). This song was first introduced to me in my high school French class. My fantastic French teacher would show us music videos, play movies, download youtube videos, etc etc-to expose us to a lot of French popular culture. Then in Madison this past semester, my 228 teacher played the Aicha music video for our class. And now, officially in Paris, the song was preformed by three Frenchies and a guitar in the metro. Now I don't actually know if the majority of French people like this song, or have really listen/heard of it. Regardless of who actually listens to this song and watches this corny video, it takes me back to a simpler time of French vocabulary cards, crepes in class, and watching The Grinch in English with French subtitles. oh c'est la vie. c'est aicha.

The French like Playing Dress Up

for things like Dior Fashion Show or simply for la rue. Stalking models, bloggers, writers, fame hungry monsters (me), and other fashion cravers. 

What I Like

(original idea is from everyone's favorite design website)

Weekly Recap of French things that I like:

• Breakfast in America-when not drinking milk for over two weeks is not okay.
• Drinking cheap wine in the Metro
• Frog Fight- Monthly Latte Art Competition held in Paris for baristas who know how to pour steamed milk. genius. 
• Holy Crêpes - this place is only opened through reservations. Fly to France and make one. Because I have four words for you: Salted butter caramel crêpes.
• fonDO- Do eat here and be your own chef. Dont use the same fork to cook your raw meet with the one you eat. bad. 
• Fan Bingbing- saw this famous pop singer/model during Paris Fashion Week. NBD. 
• My favorite ice cream shop that my dad will sure enjoy-and it shares the same island as Johnny Depp's apartment. So, it's probably his fav too. 
• Having my sheets changed for me every two weeks.
• Paris Fashion Week. Because being on the war front with the paparazzi felt like I was behind the scenes of Teen Vogue. Or WWII. 
• Video chatting my roommates on a saturday night. 

The French like Pickpocketers

and they especially like me. Obviously the domain for pickpocketers lies in large cities. It's their playground. They turn swiping a wallet from a victim's backpocket into a magic trick. Well, I fell prey to three hawks who tried to take advantage of this poor American girl. Yesterday in the metro, I was walking from class with two of my friends during a pretty busy time for metro traveling. While making a connection, I was in the midst of a swarm of people. I had my backpack on that I bought at LL Bean which has buckles and zippers galore. I'm going to say shamelessly that I get a lot of compliments on it. My dad even supported my decision to buy it and wear it in a place as chic as Pahreee. Well, back to the dark side of the story: while I was walking, I felt a little bit of a tug. I turned around to see if I had hit something or someone, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then I felt another slight tug behind me. This tug however raised some flags because it felt more like the times in high school between classes when your friends would grab your backpack to whip you back as a joke. Only less aggressive. So I turned around really alarmed- as someone who knows (second hand) about filthy, criminal pickpocketers would, and saw a guy staring at me point blank. We had come to a fork in the metro passage, and while my friends were deciding which route we needed, the dude totally looked guilty, yet not quite defeated. I could feel some serious rage happening. We chose path B, and sure enough, he did too. Well, when we got to the waiting zone for the metro, I could see him out of the corner of my eye. Periphs are how I do. Howeverrrrr, I felt another tug.. okay, so this lowlife has some friends. I widen my peripheral zone and saw a girl behind me with her hand a little too close for comfort by my backpack! I quickly take off my pack and see that the zipper is half opened and my plastic bag with my blessed croissant is peeping out. Luckily, I caught them in time. I gave them a dirty look, said some mother-disapproved things under my breath, and walked away, pulling my friends along with me who saw none of this go down. The girl with the curious hands had acted like a common traveler with her boyfriend (criminal partner #3) and they were looking at the metro map while she in turn used her periphs to try and do some unlawful acts.
     I'm so thankful that I wasn't taken advantage of and had caught them in the act. I wish I would have scared them into never doing this hobby of theirs again-because if I, Miss Oblivious, caught them-they should look into pulling bunnies out of hats or something. Or at least pick up the sax and earn some money on the met. Inside the metro, my hands were shaking. They hadn't gotten on as far as could tell, but I felt really angry for their failed attempt. Thieves are terrible people and I wish some nasty things upon them. I think I like beggars with misspelled signs more than you scoundrels.
      However, I had heard backpacks were targeted in places like the metro. They hang off your back where you can't see them, one zip opened, and boom, you can easily be taken a ride for. Two people in my study abroad group from Madison have already had their wallets taken. One girl had her wallet in her mesh pocket (okay I'm not saying that what happened is in any case a surprise) of her backpack and it was stolen within two blocks. Another guy was held at knife point in four in the morning for his wallet. So yeeaaahhh... pickpocketers here are as prevalent as subways in Madison. Just a few suggestions I have learned from this small incident: Be cautious and hide everything from view. Tuck zippers into the pocket or hide them if you are able to. Leave at home your debit card, passport, anything you would have to call home and cancel. If you're going to wear a backpack, wear a black Eastpak backpack (they're popular in France because they are simple and small) and wear it on one shoulder to have an easy hold of when people step into your bubble. Being a victim or knowing a victim of a pickpocketer is as common as knowing a left handed person. Just watch yourself. Because people are watching you..

My Backpack! Although, not in that color thankfully. 

The French like The Kooples

fashion post number two. This gem can be found all around Paris and the rest of France. I've never heard of it back home, but I can definitely envision draping my body with these très cher garments. They are edgy, yet pretty. Simple, and yet distinguishing. And all the models have that angsty glare to them we all can recognize. And, if you visit their store (although, you'll have to fly to Europe.. sorry for the teasing) you get a huge, free newspaper thingy that displays all their clothing and bios of The Kooples. Which I think is the french accent way of saying couples. Regardless of how you want to say it, the look is pretty universal for classy gents and femmes, but apparently teenagers as well? I noticed a girl I was helping teach English for was wearing a Kooples jacket. She was fourteen. Fourteen and wearing designer clothes? Honestly, once you come to Paris and see the amount of drizzled up children in riches, you won't be surprised either. Later blog post to follow on the French love affair with dressing their children up to the nines. Oh and who are the Kooples? Haven't figured that one out either. I assume they are just some hot french couples lollygagging along the Seine. 

The Kooples 

The French like Julien Doré

because he looks great holding a lapdog (music post number 1). Well, I think they also have a thing for his music. In my opinion, I would draw a comparison from this musician with what I think everyone would recognize: Beck and Ben Folds. He's got the hair, the random irrelevant white animals, and the two dudes in short jogging shorts. It also has what lots of European songs have: the combination of the native language with English. I'm still unsure why they do this. It does make the song easier to understand I suppose-otherwise I might question a couple of scenes... actually I guess I'm still questioning them. His music is similar to Beck and Ben's too- it's smooth, yet tangy like lemonade. This is his first solo album, called Bouchon, which includes his break out song: Kiss Me Forever (and video included for your convenience of course). Don't be fooled by the girly pop song title-there's a scene with a woman making out with her pup. Watch the video and fall in love with his kiss.

The French like Bensimon shoes.

Fashion post part 1. So I realize that being in France, many might wonder "What do the French like to wear?" Well, taking the color black aside, the French usually wear the Bensimon shoes. I see a handful of young, chic girls and boys wearing this style of shoe each day. They can easily be paired with nearly anything and they come in every color you can imagine under the sun. I needed tennis shoes when I arrived because I wore out the sole of my favorite pair I bought in Argentina and I got these pair of shoes I found at Texto:

They aren't French- they are totally fit for an American toddler. I was here for only a day before I made the purchase so I wasn't in the know if you know what I'm saying. However, I'm happy with the selection because they're distinguishing. If you want to look like the French from the ankle down (if you want to look like the French from the knee down-well the obvious decision is buy a nice pair of black leather boots), try out Bensimon shoes. Although, I'm pretty sure the trend has been brought to America since winter. So maybe the French are copying us and not the other way around for a change. Bensimon:

 

The French like McDo

and they know what french fries are! I know this should make headline news because is it possible that the French would actually eat french fries?

(truth comes out: you have to forward to minute 5:00.)

Well, the answer is yes, and they don't stop the euro there. The menu has basically the same items as your American counterpart. Well, truthfully, they have more. Each McDonald's I have stumbled into-well, no I never stumble in France, I stride into has been paired with a bigger basement and a McCafé offering an assortment of delicassies that makes you wonder how they strode into this place. They had cookies, muffins, the entire coffee family, croissants, etc. etc. Their restaurant menu is just as unique. They have cheeseburgers specific to France- square patties and buns complete with your choice of either chevre (goat cheese), bleu, or cantal (first time I'm hearing that one..) cheese. They all look divine and aren't as pricey as their more traditional choices- chicken nuggets, BigMac, etc. I'm so jealous they can choose their preferred cheese! But who is surprised by that statement? They also have a euro menu, I'm happy to note. However, the cheapest things are a euro, not 77 cents. Maybe it was just me, but I thought my fries had a bit extra (like around 33%) oomph to them. In retrospect, I should have splurged and tried their original chevre cheeseburger, but I was looking to find my equivalent on their menu. Luckily, they had it under their euro menu. Les petite frites they aren't called french fries f.y.i. and a hamburger sans moutarde. It was delicious (maybe I've had too many crepes this week and have neglected my American roots) or maybe I was under that impression because a hamburger has not been rejoined with my large intestine for quite some time. So, as I was saying, each McDo here is accompanied with a basement or a second floor for additional seating, a McCafé, and a euro menu. In addition, they also have stations where you can pre-order and pre-pay in case the lines are too long to wait. Yes, that's correct. The lines at these McDonald's are long and not even the second floor is enough seating to hold everyone. No joke. When I gathered my food and hauled it upstairs, I had to squeeze into a table next to a couple on either side of me. I felt sort of imposing-but then I remembered that I am at McDo. On top of long lines and a lack of seating, these Frenchies don't go light on what they order. I took a glance around me and I have a feeling the French were trying to mock a three course meal. The couple next to me had salad, a soda, a cheeseburger, and ice cream. The woman on the other side, had a large fries, a soda, and two hamburgers. Quoi?! I had a plain burger and small fries and I'm the American. So, my analysis is that the French in fact do like McDo's and as far as I know, have an ongoing committal relationship to this joint. Whereas I can't pass up a crepe for a hamburger, I know I might make my return sooner than later... just call me French!

The French like fitting into stereotypes

well, maybe they wouldn't want to consider it a stereotype, but their culture is portrayed quite accurately in Hollywood. I would like to think that I could break all the stereotypes and assumptions every tourist has, but there's a reason why in movies there's a baguette in every French person's grocery bag- because there actually is. I've been keeping a mental note of what I've seen in Paris that makes me say to myself "Haven't I seen this before?"
Here are some of my expectations that were met:

1). The Eiffel Tower viewed from the bedroom window- The most classic scene of any American movie filming (or even not filming) in Paris. Just watch Moulin Rouge. That Eiffel Tower gleams like its Elton John. Oh, but who am I referring to with this scene? Sure, not every window has a view, but my close friend Zoe here has a view of the Tower from non other than her bedroom window. Oh. La. La.
2). The beret- Not as frequent as you are told, but yes-I've seen lots of girls wearing a beret. That is one trend I can't deny.
3). Smoking- Lots of people have asked me if I have started smoking. It might do me wonders if I wanted to try and fit in better.
4). Black Clothing- This is a city thing. Black dominates.
5). Beautiful people- This is the truest statement. I typically see a fair share of beautiful people on the Metro. Beaucoup de French boys I wouldn't mind to talk to, but since it's the Metro, everything is considered creepy by default. It's just the way it is.
6). City of romance- It's actually not as cute anymore. Up through Valentine's Day I was enjoying the romance in the air. Couples holding hands, couples with arms around each other's waist, couples kissing to say hello, couples smooching, couples making out... wait. Making out? Yes. After I saw a couple last weekend in their forties fully swapping spit at the entrance of the Metro, I realized that the amount of PDA here was overwhelming. There was another time at Le Sacre Coeur-a couple would NOT move from the door where it was clearly a wonderful spot for a photo. It's like Holly and Michael standards in the Valentine's Day episode. If only Paris could be an office and Sarkozy could set some rules. Or maybe I just need a date.
7). Bikes- It's no Madison, Wisconsin-but there are sure beaucoup de bicycles. Usually, in touristy areas there will be rows of bikes for rent. It's pretty cheap too-only a euro or two for the first hour to ride. And from what I can tell, I see many empty racks-meaning they are in demand just like the Justin Bieber hair cut.

Just like in Beauty and the Beast, people do yell out "Bonjour!"
to you. Here, a woman leans out of her window
along the Seine to wave hello to us.
(Look at the four stories building shown at the very top on the left)

What didn't meet my Hollywood-induced expectations:
1). Striped shirts- Okay, striped shirts are for mimes. Occasionally I see someone wearing one. But it's simply a pattern. Although, you could consider stripes the equivalent of our "up northerners" plaid, peut-etre.
2). Mean French people- Okay they are not that mean! Just read my post about smiling. They are misunderstood. Sometimes.
3). Le Sacre Coeur- When I first approached Le Sacre Coeur, I thought it was missing something. Almost as if they had a lot of land and replaced it with surrounding apartments and trees. Or maybe it was missing Amelie and her magical aura. Either way, it was replaced with unassuming gangs and beggars. However, everything is restored when you make it to the top and take in that view. C'est tres jolie.
4). Thin people- Okay, this is true. I haven't seen one overweight person yet! At least not that i recall. The only one I can tell that's putting on some lb's is me. I don't know how the French can east so much and stay so thin! I mean I get that the walking pays off... but what's their secret? Maybe future blog post when I find out..?

So as you can see, the expectations met weigh more than the expectations not met. I give Hollywood a high five. Alright, well as for me, I'm going to finish watching Amelie and curl into bed while my homemade cut out of the eiffel tower pretends to gleam on my window pane. 

The French like Panaché

"Le Panaché comme au café"

and I drink it every weekend. Well, maybe for not future weekends, but I have had it every weekend so far. On my first friday night out the girls, our Brit friend DJ, and I went to a little pub near Place d'Italie called Cyber Café or Club or something that's not really important to the story. Since it was our first time at a french bar, we didn't know what sorts of alcohol they'd be serving or how to even recognize or interpret liquor lingo if we saw it. Well, the decision was made pretty easy when one of us ordered Panaché. We all passed it around, putting our tongue at risk for what was to come. Easily enough, it went down smoothly and there was like a hidden surprise in there when I swallowed. That last line sounds like a toy popped out of my cereal box, but i meant that the taste of the Panaché was like a nice glass of swallowable beer. Ah, the first clue to what it is. It is beer-well at least that's what it is classified as on the menu. We were told at the bar it's also a mixture of club soda and lemonade. Mmm-mM! Well we then realized we weren't getting a lot of beer for our buck, but we enjoyed this unique flavor from France. The next day or so, my two friends, Zoe and Kendra, spotted Panach (the nickname to Panaché, because sometimes it's more fun to sound like you've been drinking this poison for awhile) at the Carrefour. They bought ten glass bottles for just over one euro. Strangely enough it cost me 3 euro for six cans at Monoprix (so it looks like i was the fool in this story). How can it be so inexpensive (well if you're addressing Z&K), you ask? (or at least I sure did!) We checked the ingredients: looks like the only way you can get buzzed from this is if you convince yourself you are. It's hardly 1% alcohol. So this explains a lot: why I left the bar that friday night so completely happy and legitimately feeling great, why this is so cheap (well, i suppose even for 6 cans..) and why I totally like them. The rest is just juice. However, I consider it as being a happiness inducer juice (okay, i know now i'm making a counter-argument to the amount of alcohol that's in it if I'm dubbing it "happy juice" but it really is just 1%!). Every time I cracked open the can lid, I've had a memorable, fun night. This just proves you don't need to get slosh buckling drunk every night to have a good time. Even Panach can promise a Panawesome night, unless you decide you mix it with real beer and end up having a Panauseous one. 

complete list of ingredients: lemonade, orange juice, beer. Note: every bar may make it differently-for instance, club soda instead of OJ, etc. 

The French like..... COFFEE

and so do I. I know, I know. I flew all the way to Paris to come up with that statement. However, I've been exposed to coffee so much that I too am now a coffee drinker. Sure, I've made a hefty investment in Starbucks buying countless frapps and hot chocolates, but I'm happy to note Paris converted me. I blame my fifth grade teacher for making me put off coffee for ten years. The french try to bring out that hot pot whenever they can. Much like that annoying pink bunny with the clapping instrument that runs on Energizer batteries, the french run all day on coffee. Typically, you'll have coffee and OJ for breakfast (with something small to eat), and coffee or tea with lunch, and then wine for dinner, and coffee after dessert. I think they must confuse coffee with water. Oh la la.

Espresso and I at le Grand Colbert

However, if you step into a cafe or restaurant and order a coffee, you won't be calling out "tall decaf cappuccino". There's a few things the coffee goer will need to know before dining like the french. If you ask for café, they will give you an espresso. You must say crème to receive something with milk. Finding a good, frothy cappuccino is rare. To achieve something close to this with some frothiness, ask for noisette. But if you're like me, you'll order coffee with lots of milk and bargain to take all your friends sugar packets and combine with yours (my coffees typically have four packets of sucre-so, yeah.... I'm the pink bunny leading all the other pink marching bunnies by the end of the day).

The French like love locks

While I was snapping away with my camera on a boat tour of the Seine river, one of things that caught my lens eye was a bridge sprinkled with locks.When I first saw it, I thought it was pretty charming but had no idea why someone would want to litter the Seine bridges with ugly metal trinkets such as locks. There had to be a purpose behind this habit. After the boat tour, we noticed nearly every bridge had these locks. Finally getting up close with it, I noticed there were people's initials on the locks-which I assume belonged to the owners. The French version of the American carving initials into a tree if you will. The initials were significant because they were of your own and your sweetie. The tradition goes that you carve your initials into the lock, attach it to the fence of the Seine, and toss the key into the river to lock away your eternal love. However, this romantic gesture did not originate in France. The Italians believe to have been the first (much like we claim to be the creator of pizza...still a mystery to me). Most people saw the trend occur in 2010 and it caught on quickly. Hopefully though, the locks will be maintained within the boundaries of the Seine bridges. However, a part of me thinks that this is a great way to leave your mark on the Seine. Sure, it does kind of look like trash and another form of graffiti that ruins landmarks, but I think it is pretty romantic and quite entertaining to gaze through all the locks and wonder if these couples are still together or were only intoxicated from the love of Parisian air at the time. I hope by the end of my stay here, I too will be a vandalizer of the Seine river (never thought I'd say something like that). Either it will have my initials and the initials of Pierre somethingorother or twenty others belonging to the girls in my group-I'll be leaving my bit of heart in Paris.

The French like to not smile

but they are strangely friendly. Contrary to all those rumors you hear in America and even in surrounding countries in Europe, the french are not a bad group of people. Honestly, for living in a city for just four days I have yet to come across a rude person helping me out. Well let me rephrase. In general, the french are not stuck up, swanky, and disagreeable. Sure, it’s a city so I’ve come across a good amount of your typical city snobs and traditional old folk (like the delightful elderly scarf-around-the-head woman who took one glance at our american group of 15 girls with 30 pieces of luggage and furiously shook her head in discontentment), but I see no difference between this city and lets say one like chicago (just in terms of agreeableness). However, regardless what I say, the fact remains that the french come offsnobby more than any other nationality. But why? Like us wisconsinites, they love cheese and alcohol. Like Amelie, they have an incredible joie de vivre. Well, it comes down to their social customs. The french do not smile. More precisely, they do not smile at stragers. Americans are known to be very happy, outgoing, and friendly-some of our most loveliest qualities. Therefore as Americans, we don’t consider smiling to mean anything other than a friendly or polite gesture. Manners are our best suit. However, be careful of where you move those mouth muscles in public in Paris. Smiling is considered a come-on. Basically, smiling is flirting. Quoi! Really. It’s just not what they consider appropriate (they also think hugs are something strictly for couples- well then i’d be in a relationship with one too many people). Which would explain why the men i smile at in the metro dont keep their curious eyes off of me… But right, which also explains why they are considered to be snoody. It all comes down to the smile. Tres interessant, non?