The one where Ranna talks about Arnold

I wake up, get dressed, make the bed, eat breakfast, fix my yoga bag, organize my school bag, put my Ipod into my ears, go outside, walk to the metro, pass the homeless man who asks, "vous avez une petite pièce," go down to the tracks, wait for my train, ride the train, get off at Place Monge, walk up Rue Mouffetard, go to class, sit in class, make Madame laugh, come out of class, decide not to go to phonetics, walk from Quartier Latin to Chatelet with Yasna, eat crudités sandwich, walk to Café Parvis...

...  And that's when my day begins.  

It's weird, I've made a routine for myself over the past two weeks.  In the mornings I do the same thing.  Every day is the same thing.  But the moment I sit at this café and wait for my yoga class, all routine is pushed aside, because every day is something new.  

There is nothing special about the café... actually, its quite normal.  The outside area is covered with a tarp, there are space heaters, people smoke cigarettes all around me.  The waiters don't take orders, they just come outside and tell you whether you speak French or English it doesn't matter, they just change the accent, "self service."  The coffee is good enough, and the bartender/barista is kind of cute.  

They don't mind how long we sit there, which I think is the biggest plus to this café.  Yasna and I get there around 1:30 every day and we sit at that café until I have to go to yoga at 4:30.  Seriously, we just sit there and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.  Every day there is something new that we laugh about.

One day, there were some Iranians sitting in front of us and...well, I didnt think they were Iranian, and Yasna said for sure they were.  So, the challenge of figuring out if they were or not took over our lives for a while, and we did EVERYTHING to make them speak Farsi.  

But, they were the kind of couple who sit at restaurants and dont say anything to each other the entire time.  You know what I'm talking about.  The type thats like, man, if only I was here with someone else.  

Finally the woman said something like, "bereem."  Something lame and lo and behold, they were Iranian.  

I dont know if its just me, but when I see people who may be Iranian, I become obsessed with figuring out if they are or not.  I literally cannot concentrate on anything else, because I'm so concentrated to know if we are compatriots.  And when I do figure it out, then what?  Then nothing really, I just have the satisfaction of knowing that 1. they really are iranian 2. i can understand them 3.  i probably shouldnt say anything bad about them "booyeh gooz midan" what?  chiiii? 

Yasna one-ups me by being able to speak Swedish, so whenever the Svedes come and sit near us, her radar starts beeping, and she's like, "Oh they're swede, they're swede, I can tell by the way the guy cut his hair [into a mullet.]" 

Mullets are big here among men AND women.  Not like, straight up, red neck or anything, but short up front, longer in the back.  It's really ugly, actually.  I dont dig this fad.  Apparently its big in Sweden?  And Spain.  It's big in Spain.  And Germany.  Da Germans do it.   

OH, Haha, speaking of German accents, I was watching David Letterman, and Zach Braff was his guest, and he was talking about how he works out a lot, and one day he was working out and Arnold Schwarzenegger (wiki'ed that name, fosho) came up to him, and said, in his accent, "You must eat mo carrots."  

Anyway, I guess you had to be there.

Ok honestly, nothing exciting per se happens at the café, but hanging out with Yasna really reminds me of hanging out with Salma, in that, we will laugh at the most RANDOM things you can even imagine, or just have weird conversations that make no sense and think they are hilarious.  And then when we recount our stories to other people, they're like, "Umm, I dont get it.." [insert cat statue story HERE salma].  

Oh, did I mention the café is right across from the Centre Pompidou?  Well, it is.  And so it's pretty much tourist central around there.  We have fun laughing at the Japanese tours that walk by.  OK.  They have the funkiest fashion trends in Japan, OK?  You would laugh too.  Don't even deny it.  

Anyway, then I go to yoga, which is of course, wonderful.  I'm doing this 30 day yoga challenge--I'm on day 3.  Going strong people, going strong.  

I go home afterwards, because showering is important sometimes.  Then who knows what I do...WOO!  Life of the party.  That's me!  

I don't miss home as much as I did last semester.  I seriously think its the weather.  Right now, I'm sitting on my bed, my blinds are up, my windows are open, the sun is shining into my room, I don't have class today.  Life is grand.  

I miss my family/friends, but home, eh, not so much.  Home to me has recently become Paris.  

Love, 

Ranna 

tendez les genoux

dear friends,

Everyone I know in Paris, whether they're staying for only a few months or indefinitely has worked tremendously hard to build a home for himself.  We get jobs, dogs, find significant others, decorate our apartments...  In any case, our home here in paris becomes our REAL home and we define our lives with what we have here.  Our friends become our family, our teachers become our parent figures.  Why?  Because we strive to find familiarity in an unfamiliar landscape.  Life is a mixed bag...

Recently, I have really felt at home here in this city.  At first I was not quite sure where the real change came from, I just knew I had found comfort.  Now, I realize it is because I have found community.  Before, I was always lost, it was hard for me to communicate, I didn't have a "real" life..my life was an alternate reality.  Now, I can find my way around most quartiers (at least, the important ones) around Paris.  I am familiar with the streets, I recognize the beggars who come into the metro and sing for money.  I DO YOGA!!!!  

Yeah...yeah...I want to talk about yoga.  One day, I randomly decided...actually, no I was REALLY cold, and I thought, well, I can either finish the semester in Yemen, or...or what?  What is the best way to find heat here in Paris  What can I do?  And I thought, hmmmmmm, could it be?  Can Bikram really have a studio here?  AND THEY DID!!!  So, I went.  

It's in a great area right across from the Centre Pompidou, a tiny tiny studio, that can probably fit about 40 people.  The best part (at least for the first few times) was that they taught certain classes in English.  So, I went and signed up and it was great.  Well, actually, the English classes were definitely not as dynamic as I would have liked, so last week I decided to go to my first class in French.  

IT WAS SO COOL!  I'm pretty familiar with all of the poses, so I can understand mostly everything the instructors say, if not, I just put it into the context.  PLUS, I learn a crap load of new vocabulary words.  Like, I learned what toes were, and elbows, and chin, and forehead!!  HAHA, its amazing!  I feel great you guys.  You know, I think it's because since Im concentrating so much on trying to understand, I stay more focused during each pose, because I actually do everything that the instructors tell me to do, rather than zoning off.  I can feel myself getting better.  

Tonight, I had dinner with Marion, and she told me that I looked different and acted differently since she saw me last week.  She was laughing and told me it was because I started to do yoga regularly.  I think I agree.  

Heres the thing, I think.  In Paris, OK sure, I'm learning French, but I had lost sight of a lot of the goals I had in my mind.  Yoga opens the door to a new goal.  Becoming GOOD at it.  I pretty much still look really funny compared to the yogis in the class.  For all those "Friends" fans out there, I'm like Phoebe during the dance class, when she's like, "IM TOTALLY GETTING THIS!!" and she looks like a weirdo, but she's having a great time.  That's how I am.  Having an absolutely amazing time.

Plus, I've met a group of really great people.  Yeah, the yogis are really cool.

And, the weather is starting to get better.  Today, I'm pretty sure it hit 50 degrees, and the sun is out, and they turned on the fountains around Paris.  All signs looking up.  

I feel zen.  I feel good : ) 

xxRanna 

vrac is crack

Marion left a box of white chocolate with coconut chips on my desk with a note that reads, "thanks for all, my roomy! ps. your mumy has called, not on your MOBILE!  Call her later.  Love, xxmarion."  

I had a piece of the chocolate and it was good.  Not my favorite, but good.  Did you know white chocolate is not really chocolate?  Ask Salma, she can give you the details.

I just checked my email.  GMU Persian Club sent me three of the same email, and then a correction.  Weird.  

My room is silent.  I don't know how much I like it.  For the last week or so I've constantly had people in my house, crashing, or just chilling out.  Sometimes it bothered me.  Especially late at night when I wanted to go to bed.  But other times I liked the feeling of being a part of something.  Having friends who were always around.  Being close to people.  Laughing constantly.  I like laughing.  Laughing feels good. 

Should I go to sleep?  Probably.  I have school tomorrow.  But the thought of having no one to say good night to....  wow.  Did I actually enjoy having roommates?  I wrote in my journal a couple days ago that I didn't know if I could handle having roommates for the long run--that when those petite idiosyncrasies are revealed, all hell breaks loose.  But it seems like I prefer having people stay with me than actually staying in my room by myself, pondering what the weird smell coming from my chauffage actually is and whether its unhealthy.  

If Marion and Yasna (my second roommate) were here right now, I'd probably ask them if there's any truth to the way the main character behaved in "He's Just Not That Into You," and then secretly think that the obvious answer is of course, "yes," but they would say, "Oh, I don't know, its definitely exaggerated."  But they would be thinking, "We do those things all the time..."  Which makes me sad, because I was genuinely embarrassed for that girl.  For all of them. 

But since they're not here, I have to result to writing these questions out on this blog, thus examining the answers for myself.  

This scares me.  What if I've turned into one of those people who hates being by herself?  No, I totally havent.  You know how I know?  This is how I know: today I decided to walk from school to the American Library of Paris, and I was genuinely having a good time taking in the city.  So.  I can be by myself.  I just.  I like friends.  OK I LIKE FRIENDS.  

Also, when I read James Joyce, I feel a level of comfort that I have never felt before.  I'm reading, "Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man," and I've grown pretty obsessed with it.  

I love you a lot, and dont you forget it.  

habibi

i dont have that much to say.  it snowed last weekend, and yesterday.  i've been working on an essay about Islam and France (my obsession du jour).  i will blog about ameh maryam and mersad's visit a little later.  i just want to post this video, because the song is quite beautiful.  

hyperlink

love ranna