Je pense donc je suis

Guess who's back, back again?!  Ranna.  So everyone report to the dance floor, dance floor, dance floor, dance floor.

I've been pretty down on the ground lately.  I got sick.  Really sick, actually.  The flu/sinus infection/feeling sorry for myself-itis.  I was alone, I went crazy.  

When I went back to school I couldn't quite get my energy level to the point where it had been before my mishaps.  I tried.  I really did.  Every day I woke up and said, "Ranna, pull yourself together.  You are in PARIS.  Be happy!  Be excited!"  I took Eckhart Tolle around with me every day, hoping that his words would help me get better.  

But, ehhhhhh, the weather was gloomy, it hurt me to swallow, and my hair was (excuse me, still is) RIDICULOUS looking.  

There was a cloud over my head (literally) and I just wanted it to go away.

And I am happy to say, ladies and gentlemen, that today it did.  

I don't know whether it was the blue sky, that we didn't have a verb conjugation test like we had planned, or the fact that I had the absolute BEST sandwich of my life while walking through the Jardin de Luxembourg, but all of a sudden I felt really good.

I think I needed a chance to chill out, take in my beautiful surroundings, and remind myself of where I was, and what I was doing. 

I feel really good right now.  Actually, I feel great.  

But, it's less about my stroll through the gardens, and more about my experience with...dum dum dum....the BUS.

What is Ranna rambling on about, you ask?  WELLLLLLL, let me tell you.

Since I've been here, I've pretty much avoided taking the city bus during the day.  I stick more to the metro, or I walk.  I blame my fear of transportation via bus to a terrible calamity that took place on my very first visit to Paris wherein my mother (as smart as she is) managed to get our family lost in Montmartre very late at night.  The very same night, in fact, when the homeless man with a missing eye decided to hop on the bus for a late night ride, and chose the seat right next to mine.  

I was affected for life.

OK.  I exaggerate.  But seriously, I avoided the bus.  The map was way to hard to understand.

But today, I was like, you know what?  I don't have anything else to do.  Let's do this janxx.  And so I did.  Granted, it took me 3 hours to get home, because I kept hopping off one bus, and getting on another...I don't know why I decided to take the longest route known to mankind.  But I did. 

I was pretty proud when the bus stopped right in front of Maison Blanche.  Hard work pays off... c'mon, it was difficult.

But I really can't wait to take the bus tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day.  

It's fun, you know?  It's exactly like the metro, only I get to see the city while I'm at it.  I mean, wow!  It BLEW my mind that Boulevard Raspail hit Rue de Renne hit Saint Germain-de-Pres.  Did everyone know that?  You know what this means?  It means, that I can walk from my school, to Boulevard Raspail, then down Rue de Renne and get to Saint Germain-de Pres.  

Although, it would be a lot easier just to take Boul Mich' instead....nevermind.  

OK, now I really am rambling.  I just... I was typing as I was thinking... because... haha, this afternoon, I thought I was so coy for coming up with the route from Raspail to Saint Germain...without thinking that Sorbonne is like 5 minutes away from it.  

So anyway, yes.  I am here.  I am in Paris.  Thursday is thanksgiving, thats cool.  Dad is visiting on Friday, hella excited.  

Oh but on Thursday, Marion and I are hitting up one of those American bistro's thats serving some good ole fashioned turkey day grub.  So, I have that to look forward to.

Shaabaaammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  

Dedicated to: Aziz Joon.  I love you a lot.  Say hi to Daddy. 

hahahahahahaaa human interaction is great.

I have been sick for the last week.  I have done nothing but stayed home in bed.  

life is just such a mixed bag.  

Montmartre semble triste et les lilas sont morts

My favorite song, thus far, is one by Julien Clerc, "Fait-Moi une Place."  

Youtube's selections were all lacking, but I'm posting this one so that you get to hear the song.  For some reason it starts off during the middle of the first verse, sorry about that.  

The link.  Hyperlink.  Haha.

Today Marion, Arash, Jean-Charles and I trekked our way up to the 18th arrondissement of Paris to visit Montmartre.  This district of Paris is placed on top of the hill, overlooking the rest of the city.  Ever heard of the Basilica of the Sacre Coeur?  Well, its there.  It's interesting because Montmartre was not considered part of Paris during the time Napoleon III and Baron Haussman (the guy who basically renovated the entire city) were doing their thaaang.  Ever since then, it's had it's own sort of vibe.  It's kind of quirky in the sense that it's kept its old school vibes while the rest of the city has really changed with the times.  

I realized today that if I really wanted to find the artistic hub of the city, it was no longer Left Bank, Montparnasse, but Right Bank, Montmartre.  

The view from the very top of the city, right next to the Basilica is unworldly.  I thought Centre Pompidou was good, but this view was even more panoramic and even more...ideal.  It's like you're looking down at the city from the clouds.  The only problem I had (and Marion laughed at me and told me that I should stop behaving like a Parisian) was that the Tour Montparnasse TOTALLY takes away from the view of Paris.  Everything else is so classical and charmant, and then there's this tall building, randomly jutting out from the middle.  I just find it random and unnecessary.  haha.  "Je suis parisienne.   c'est d'accord." 

We went inside the Sacre Coeur and it was absolutely breathtaking in all of its architectural grandeur.  I mean, the way it's built is really unique to any other building in Paris.  The building itself is completely white, while the stained glass windows add a hint of color, causing the inside to have a red glow.  

Millions of candles with burning flames line the walls.  People come from all over the world and light candles and prayer.  The pews are scattered with people sitting, praying, crying.

Marion and Jean Charles, who are both very religious (I actually didn't know this until later) both took lit candle, sat down and prayed. 

I realized how different the experience inside the basilica was for them, than it was for me or Arash.  For us, it was a beautiful building from which we could find pleasure.  It was a historical landmark that needed to be seen.

For them, it was a sanctuary.  A place where their prayers would be heard.  

When they walked out, they were both uncharacteristically subdued.  Marion later told me that praying in the Sacre Coeur today was very paradoxical for her.  She has been having a hard time getting adjusted to life in Paris, she misses her friends and family back home.  So she said, praying, meditating, self-reflecting, they are hard tasks for her.  It was very hard for her to be in that sort of spiritual sanctuary.  And yet, she told me, she felt like it was something she HAD to do.  That the pain she felt in the moment was worth the ease she felt afterwards.

I don't know what else to type after something like that.  It's cold and rainy here a lot, so everyone takes advantage of clear sunny weather like we had today.  It was nice to be outside and take in the fresh air.  

I like Montmartre a lot.  In Marion's words, "I think I go back soon."  

love, Ranna 

im interesting enough to be in the louvre

I just had a really strange night...

I've been sick for the last few days.  It started off as a little cold, turned into a sinus thing, and today its my throat.  I spent the entire day inside, studying, drinking chai and juice, eating soup.  Good times.  

Then Arash (a friend introduced to me by Narges B.-- hollaaa 021), sent me a text reminding me that there was a Sufi concert going on tonight; asking if I was still going.  I was like, "hmmmmmm.  why not?"  It's interesting, its cool, its chill, its chill.  

So I call up my friend Yasna (super cool Swedish-Iranian girl who's in my class) and I'm like, "Yo Yasna, theres this Sufi concert tonight, wanna go?"  

I later found out that she thought I said "sushi concert" but she said yes, nonetheless. 

So around 5:30 Yasna and I met up at the metro near the concert venue, got kind of lost trying to find the place, but finally after asking around a lot reached the spot. 

There were like 7 people randomly standing outside the front of the door, looking at us like someone had just died...

"Are you here for the concert?"

"Yeah."  

"It's been cancelled. "

"It's been cancelled???" 

"Baleh, Ostad geer kardeh Iran."  (The..i dont know...Rosa says its maestro... is stuck in Iran) 

"Geer kardeh Iran???"  (he's stuck in Iran???)

"Baleh, kardanesh zendan."  (Yes.  They've put him in jail.)

"Kardanesh zendan???"  (They've put him jail???"

"Baleh, chon keh........................"  I didnt really understand the reason.  I dont know if Yasna did either.  

So, we're like, great.  What now?  So we decided to go and eat something before we headed back home. 

There are randomly 8 million thousand lebanese restaurants around Paris.  Randomly.  And they all have AMAZING food.  We walk into one of the little restaurants and all of the sudden we hear these people speaking Farsi.  

We giggled a little bit, and ordered our food, and I was like, this is silly, I'll just say hi to them.

WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE.

I was like, "Salaam" and right then, one of the guys (he had a hezbollah beard and a loud voice) was like, oh lets get you guys chairs, and you sit here and you sit here, and lets get you settled, and now tell me....

He and his friends were students that came with a larger group from the University of Tehran.  The two other ones, Perssia (pronounced Purse-siyah) and Reza were cool.  But this one, Arash (Arash#2).  I wanted to slap him at the end.  

Every time Yasna and I would open our mouths to say something, he was like "JOOON.  ELAHIIIII.  GORBOONET BARAM!!  CHEGHAD NAZ SOHBAT MIKONII"  

I was like, dude, shut up and let me talk.  

So Yasna and I sat there and ate our food, and they sat there, and when we finished they were like, "Ok, berim McDonalds."  

I was like, um, we just ate?  and i think you did too?  But for some reason we ended up going with them to McDonalds, where Arash and Reza ate ice cream and Perssia, who was actually a really nice girl, I liked her, spoke with us about her life in Iran compared to her life here.

We were having a good conversation, but then Aghayeh Arash-eh gol was like, "Bachehah, quiz."  And he started to quiz us on slang words in Farsi.  Yasna and I were like, baba vel kon.  And we couldnt get up to leave because we were sitting in a booth and somehow we were in the middle.  No way to get out.  Stuck.  

Darab va Sara aab doost darad.  Sara va madar miravan beh baazar. 

I showed them what I knew how to write in Farsi.  they were pretty impressed.

Um.  So anyway.  I just wanted to leave because my throat hurt and I was tired.  And Yasna got so bored that she took out a pen and paper and was drawing. 

 

Oh, haha.  Arash wrote down his name and told us to go youtube him because he was like a musician in Iran and had a bunch of concerts.  I dont remember what his last name was though.

Bichareh was nice, he just talked a lot.  And he couldnt get over the fact that we had never lived in Iran but we spoke Farsi.  Like, he told us that we should be placed in the Louvre because it was so interesting.  

Anyway, after McDonalds, we hastily walked to the metro...not before he asked Yasna if her parents wanted her to marry and Iranian...wink wink, nudge nudge.  

Yasna and I were like, "ok, yeah, khosh hal shodim.. mhm, mhm, ok.. CIAO!" 

Well.  It was random.  But, in retrospect, I wanted to go to the concert to get my fix of Iranianness for the month... this pretty much covered it for the year.  

 

 

RE: Zahra, Salma's comments

Ranna takes the point.  

Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!

I've mentioned before that I love the market across the street from my house.  Every sunday I wake up, get ready and head over to do my weeks worth of grocery shopping.

I have this ridiculous suitcase-looking thing that I swore I would never use.  

Mamman: Ranna, bebin chii kharidam barat!!  (Ranna, look what I bought you!!)

Ranna: I swear I will never use that.  (Ghasam mikhoram keh hich vakht estefadeh nemikonamesh)

Mamman:  Kheyli chiseh khoobiyeh (It's a really good thing)

Ranna: It's weird.  (Weird-eh) 

Alas, my grandmother was right, and now I use it religiously.  It's really great, because it carries all of the groceries, and it has wheels, so I don't have to lug everything home on my shoulders...even though its literally RIGHT across the street from where I live.

I now know which stands I should go to, and which ones I should avoid.  You see, most of the produce vendors are Arab men who are hilarious and really nice.  

I've made friends with one of the older vendors who, each week, gives me another fruit to sample.  Last week it was a clementine, this week it was some grapes.  

Their produce is always amazingly cheap and amazingly tasty (except the lemons which have not been the best for the last two weeks...maybe its a seasonal thing).

EVERYONE flocks to these stands.  I can barely get through to buy what I want sometimes because there are so many people picking out what they need.  

But here's the deal:

there are about 4 or 5 produce vendors at the market who are Frenchy French French French (as in, non-Arab) and there are always like three or four people around their stands buying their fruits.  The first week I was there I thought it was sort of strange that people would push and pull their way into the crowded stands when there was so much space at theirs.  

But for some reason, their produce is about two euros more expensive than any of the other places, and they're selective about who they sell to.

They have their usual customers.  The rest can push and pull.  

Whatever though, I have wayyyy more fun at the crowded stands.  

I also have a favorite cheese stand.  The very nice older couple behind the counter are more than happy to help you choose which type of cheese to buy.  The first week I stuck to what I knew, "bouche de chevre."

I saw chevre and I was like, oh!  I know that that is!

But then I went George Perec on the situation and made a game out of my cheese buying.  Each week when I go, I try to buy another sort of cheese so that by the end of the year, I'll have tried all of them.

So, as of now, I've tried, the Pont Eveque, Bouche de Chevre, and this other one, man I totally forgot what the name of it was but it doesnt matter because it was really weak...

This week, I bought the bouche de chevre again, after taking a break from it last week.  I bought the St. Amartine (first time, havent tried it yet) and a Creme Vache (new too.  I'm excited, it looked aamaaazzziinnggg).

I sound like Monsieur René.  

I never thought I would be excited about tasting cheese.  

So, apart from that, I steer clear from the fish stands because I still havent quite adjusted to the smell, to the way the ice melts and the sidewalk gets wet, and the fact that the fish look like their looking at you...blahssshajfd.   I don't like it.

I also don't go to the meat stands because 1. there's a cool boucherie right by my house. 2. for some reason they have the dead animals, with like fur and feathers displayed on the counters.  

Like,  if anyone is confused about what they're eating,  here it is! 

OK.  I'm gonna go try me some cheeseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.  

Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man wealthy, healthy and wise

Apparently there's daylight savings time here.

All my life, I thought it was only something that was done in the US.  

Plus, my phone and television set didn't automatically reconfigure their times so I was hella confused for like 3 hours this morning.  I had to do some extensive research to figure out if there was actually a change in times or something was messed up with my computer.  

Ok, cool.  I get an "extra" hour to sleep.

Only, when I was younger, my mom used to always use that ploy on us.  She'd be like, "Great, tomorrow we pull the clocks back girls, you can sleep one more hour in the morning!" 

but then technically since we slept one hour later, it didnt really matter and I was still tired in the morning and it was still hard to go to school.  

but i think that was mostly because i didn't like high school to begin with.  

or junior high for that matter.

or actually, any year after like 3rd grade when we moved from Montessori to, "real school."