paris...je t'aime, mon amour...ma vie...mon coeur...

dear paris,

 i should probably be writing this in french, but i'm pretty tired, and you seem to understand english pretty well...even if you pretend you dont...

we need to talk.

i leaving you for a while.  i need a trial separation.  its not you, its me.  it's totally me.  i need space.  i need distance.  fo real, i need distance.  like, across the ocean type distance.  

you know i love you, right?  i love you.  i'll always love you.  you'll be in my thoughts the entire time i'm away.   

I need to go home for a while to get my thoughts cleared up.  You dont give me a chance to clear my thoughts because with you i'm always living spontaneously.  its a good thing.  its such a good thing, paris.  dont you forget it.  but there comes a time when one must evaluate what she is doing with her life, what her goals and aspirations are, where she wants to be in the future.  

when im with you, you seduce me.  you seduce me into thinking i can remain a daydreaming dandy for the rest of my life.  

that's not life.  that's fantasy.  you are a fantasy.  

i love you so much, paris.  je t'aime.  je t'aime.  je t'aime.  i'll be back.  before you know it, i'll be back, and it'll be just like i never left...only it will be better.  because it will be warm.  well...you know...in march it will become warm.

with deepest affection, bisous, bisous, bisous, bisous,

ranna s.  

Guess what Ranna found today?

SWIFFER WIPES.......

and it feels soooooooooooo good.  

in other news:  yesterday we had a holiday party in our class.  It was the most amazing class holiday party of my life.  We were popping champagne and eating foie gras like we were Jay Z.  At freaking 10 in the morning...mhm...this is the life.  

 

and lastly--i fly home for Christmas in 3 days 01 hours 30 minutes 03 seconds 

Some songs I think you should listen to: 

yek

do

seh

bisoussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

window shopper

I am a window shopper of the sweet sort.  My time is spent standing outside of the bakeries around Paris watching (yes, not just looking at, but watching) the tarts, the cakes, the macaroons, the flans, the napoleons, the eclairs....

People go in.  Come out.  Go in.  Come out.  They take out the pastries from the bag and take huge bites.  My mouth waters as I watch the the crumbs fall on their shirts, or the cream stick to their faces.  I imagine what it tastes like.  

I have the perfect comparison.  Who's seen "Hook?"  You know the part in the movie when they PRETEND to have a feast with the play-do looking food?  That's what I'm reminded of as I watch the bakeries.  I pretend to eat.  I pretend that I'm tasting the tarte aux framboises (too sugary), the pain au chocolats (not enough chocolate), the flan (just right).  Mmmmmmmmmmm.  

BUT, I will not give in to the pleasures baked goods have to offer.  

Ranna: Hey look at this bakery.  Mm, that looks good.

Whoever is with me: Yeah, woah, that one looks good too.

Ranna: I wonder what that tastes like.  Do you want something?  (silently hoping they say yes)

WIWM: No, not really.  Do you?

Ranna: Oh.  No.  Let's go.  (BEFORE I BREAK THE WINDOW AND EAT EVERYTHING ) 

Good thing I have an active imagination. Or else, I think I would be dead by now.  

Shab bekheyr.  Did you like the two blogs in one day?  niiicce.  

Marrakech Mint Tea

The mosque popped out at us so suddenly that I was taken aback at how large and beautiful it ended up being.  To me, it's location is arbitrary--near Place Monge, just a block away from Rue Mouffetard, close to the Latin Quarter.  

I wondered why it was the first time I was seeing it.  As we inched nearer I was excited to see what it would look like on the inside.  Already, I was noticing the beautiful tile work that ran its way up and down the colossal architectural masterpiece.  Turquoise, yellow ochre, greys and whites jumped out and created an image straight out of...Morocco (bt dubs, 'rents, I'm going to go in February).  Its authenticity was better highlighted by the old women sitting outside in "dahaat" garb drinking tea, eating persimmon, and speaking Arabic to one another.  

Afterwards, Yasna asked me what I thought these women did all day sitting outside of the mosque in the shivering cold.  I don't know.  That's their community...their group...their, "doreh-yeh zanah," (Mamman, Homah, Peggy style... only instead of Mamman's house eating khoresht bademjoon, aash, and halva, they prefer tea and persimmon).  

Through the entrance, we could see a courtyard filled with fountains and greenery.  It was refreshing, in the midst of all the grey (grey buildings, grey skies, grey people), to see all of the colors the mosque held. 

We wanted to go inside and explore (well, I wanted.  Yasna just wanted to get her eyeliner) but they told us it was not open to the public.  Later we found out it was Eid.  Really?  Was it really?  Well, Eid Mobarak.  Hey, is Dai Kami back from Makeh yet?    

The mosque had a hammam built into it and I was itching to go inside and see what the deal was.  The walls were emitting steam, and standing in the cold cold cold weather outside, I was envious of those inside the hammam enjoying the heat.  Imagine what a hammam can do for your sinuses!  It's like bookhoor X 10000!!!!

There was also an amazing cafe/restaurant.  Yasna and I went and sat there for a while.  There were golden tables, woven tapestries, couches and lush pillows all over the room.  Little birds flew in and out chirping.  The room was pretty full and in the middle of the hustle and bustle, a waiter running in and out of the kitchen carrying trays with dozens of "estekaneh chai" (glasses of tea).  

Sweet mint tea.  I was not expecting it to be shirin (sweet).  Minty, yes, but sweet, no.  My taste buds were pleasantly surprised.  The warmth of the tea was great.  It was relaxing.  It was...well, when there is tea these days, there is no cough.  So, my lungs got a little break too.  : ) Just kidding.  MOM IM FINE.  

The entire building, the entire experience inside that building was relaxing. Why?  I dont know.  If find religious sanctuaries to be very meditative in general.  I guess its because when there is always so much going on in the city, its nice to go somewhere where people are at peace.  

I'm going back again.  To drink some more tea and sit on the couches with the large pillows and sing with the birds.  

No.  I'm going back to sit with the old Arab women in front of the mosque drinking chair.  I'll even wear the "dahat garb"  to stay warm.  And I want to try to learn what it means to be a part of their community.  

Love.  

DONT

 i wish i was the relative pronoun "dont" so that i could understand the relative pronoun "dont" because if I was the relative pronoun "dont" then I wouldnt have to spend the entire weekend cooped inside the library studying the relative pronoun "dont."  

frozen bones and no nose

I wish the weather would become warm again so I could walk around again without wearing my hat and my gloves and my scarf and my coat and spandex under my jeans.  and they're telling me that it gets colder than this, and i say, "colder than THIS?!" and they say, "mais oui, colder than this." 

and i think to myself, oh dear lord, my face is already so cold i cant feel my nose.  i cant feel my nose and its scary when you cant feel your nose because then you dont know if its still there or not.  what if it falls off?  i wont know until the homeless man sitting on the corner of the street wrapped in a sleeping back and some old boxes looks up at me and says, "mademoiselle, s'il vous plait..." but before he has time to finish he screams, "VOTRE NEZ!!!" and lets go of his puppy who runs off into the street onto the ruthless traffic that runs over him and ends his short life. 

the chill is so spicy that even if im wearing my hat and my gloves and my scarf and my coat and spandex under my jeans it manages to get through down to my bones and it freezes my bones so that i have to go home and thaw.  and thawing can be messy when the water drips and drips and drips over my eyes and down my arsm and right onto my dirty floors that never get clean.  and i have to use one of my four towels to clean my wet floors.  but its ok because i would rather have wet floors than frozen bones.  

Liberté, Egalité...Laïcité?

This came up in class the other day and it stirred up a lot of different thoughts, so here goes---- 

"La France est une République indivisible, laïque, démocratique et sociale." 

TRANSLATION: France is an indivisible, secular, democratic and social republic. 

Article 1 of the French constitution, and the French pride themselves on guarding those traits. 

Secularism?  The concept of laïcité was OFFICIALLY instated in 1905 when separation of church and state became viable by law.  Since then, the French have been doing their part on "strictly" upholding this secularism.  But, I think they're just kidding themselves.  

Per Constantine I, the French have adopted the Roman doctrine of refraining from work on Sundays.  But, they've taken it one step further than Ole' Const' by making it AGAINST THE LAW for businesses to open on Sundays.  The law.  Why?  Why because Sunday is the "Lord's Day."  It is holy and it must be respected (you are evil and you must be destroyed).  Apart from markets, Sunday is best identified in my mind by the constant chiming of the church and cathedral bells.  Everything is closed, grocery stores, government buildings, public libraries...school libraries... 

Museums stay open, as do SOME cafés around touristic hubs... which is interesting, but it's probably because they would face so many losses if they shut down.  What would the tourists do?  

Case numero dos: Same sex couples do not have the right to get married.  Wait...it's not that they don't have the right... it's that there's a LAW stating that it is illegal for them to get married.  There is no such thing as domestic partnership either (ie, civil unions).  The reasoning:  the church does not support same-sex unions; ergo, no ceremony for two people of the same sex.  ergo.  OK.  Then go through this "secular" state.  No can do.  The state will not perform unions for homosexual couples.  Why?  Although secular, France still has Christian roots and healthy ties with its religious commissaries.  They don't want no trouble with the big guy upstairs...

From a completely different angle comes this: while the French are in no hurry to give up these "Christian roots," they make it virtually impossible for other religions to play their part comfortably in this society.  The new wave of immigrants (and the old wave, and the even OLDER wave) practicing other religions have difficult times assimilating to the French lifestyle.  And in my opinion, the French... the "vrai" French, would like to keep it this way.  

 Immigrants from Northern Africa (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, being the main three) have built rather large communities here (Paris and its suburbs).  Walking down the streets, I hear Arabic being spoken just as much as I hear French.  The Marais is filled with shops and restaurants run by Arab men and women.  

There is such a huge potential for an AMAZING Arab-French fusion.  They have the ability to build a great new culture.  And yet, the French denounce this culture again and again. 

There has been a long-running argument about religious relics being worn in school.  France says no.  No hejabs, no kippas, no crosses, etc.  But of course, that's a problem for a lot of people.  Young girls have gone to school wearing the hejab, only to be sent home again.  But, their parents cant very well keep them home from school now, can they?  

Freedom of religion in this secular society has caused wayyyyy more problems than originally anticipated.  

Moreover, apart from a religious point of view, Parisians have kept the immigrants at an arms-length by completely pushing them OUT of the city.  Go to any suburb of Paris (save maybe two or three) and you will see that it is filled with ONLY immigrants.  They come in, only to be pushed out.  They're labeled as "banlieusards," and they are frowned upon in the city.  I mean talk about creating a sense of hostility, the Parisians are totally stirring the pot!  

You know, everything in the world is ever-changing, ever-evolving.  The Parisians are trying SO hard to keep hold of the culture they used to be famous for.  The philosophers, artists, writers, walking around the avenues of Paris creating masterpieces, practically singing their ideas and theories to the world.  They want to keep a sense of who there were before--the Parisians who broke into the Bastille and sought their independence from the monarchy.  The Parisians who protested their rights and equality on the streets of Paris during the Communards.  They want to be famous for producing thinkers like Sartre, writers like Proust, artists like Monet... and they're so keen on holding on to the past, that they can't see what a wonder a future of new Parisian culture can become.  

I just completely went from secularism to cultural acceptance, but they work hand in hand if you think about it.  I mean, there can be secularism without all the hussle and bussle that France is creating.  And without the hussle and bussle, people can put their energy into rebuilding Paris into a cultural hub.  

Listen to this song: hyperlink, because it's cool