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