Best. Night. Ever.

Sunday 11/23: After a day of on-and-off homework, at 8:00 I meet my friend Nate at the metro. Note, the next day I have class at 9:15 in the morning, so keep that in mind.

Then: Ratatat, live, at Nouveau Casino, a delightful chameleon-esque venue in the 11th. It was, and I kid you not, the best show I had ever seen. LASERS! FOG! GUITARS! SYNTHESIZERS! And the most perfect set imaginable. (Read more about it in the other blog)

































Fucking brilliant.

My favorites? Opener "Shiller" (1st track of LP3), 3rd song "Germany to Germany" (from their debut Ratatat), "Wildcat" (from Classics). I recommend that everyone downloads/buys the new album LP3. Almost every song is brilliant. One of the best albums of the year, in my opinion.

Incredible concert. Nate and I met a fellow American at the concert who goes to Cornell; for some reason us Americans-in-Paris just tend to attract others of the same sort, forming an entourage of expatriates. Weird, yet...

After the concert, it was 11:15-ish and Nate tells me that Justice (!!!) is giving a free concert at the Virgin Megastore on the Champs-Elysses (!!!) until midnight to celebrate the release of their new DVD, Live in San Francisco. Although half of me just wanted to go home, nurse my poor ringing ears, and bask in the memory of the best show EVER. But of COURSE I say yes.

So around 11:30 we get out of the Franklin D. Roosevelt stop, and the Champs lie before us, decorated for the holidays. It was raining a little, and although the picture is... how you say, comme ci comme ca, it was... magical.


Justice I have seen before-- 1st week in Paris, as a matter of fact, at the Social Club, which you might actually remember. But at that point I wasn't familiar with them, which of course didn't keep me from having a blast. This time, however, Nate and I managed to sneak our way into the front and have our hearing blasted away by the speakers. Justice? Predictably fantastic. Fucking wonderful, more like.

These were taken by Nate with my camera. I am way too short.

Check out all of the people:


Nate is OBSESSED with Justice, so we spent about an hour after the show trying to find them on the street. In the rain. Obviously a failure, but since when is being in the Champs-Elysees a bad thing?

Took the night bus home, arrived home at 1:30 AM. Collapsed into bed at 2:12. Up at 8:00, Ratatat and Justice still playing in my head. Amazing.

Museums and other nice things

Is it snowing in Paris?? Some people from the program say it is. I'm looking outside right now and just see rain. A lot of rain. Rain rain rain. Liars, all of them. Regardless the weather has been pretty nice compared to the States, so I am content.

Nothing extremely exciting to report. Went to the Musee d'Orsay on Wednesday with Melissa. It really is an incredible museum, although I was disappointed to find out that Manet's "Olympia" is currently touring the world.


I love the Musee d'Orsay. So pretty. It was originally a train station, which is pretty evident from the clock above and the architecture...


Thursday I went to the Musee de Quai Branly. Bizarre museum; I'm pretty sure I am ethically against it. It is a museum of "primitive" art, of the 4 non-European continents: Oceania, the Americas, Asia, and Africa. I am not kidding, the museum is literally titled "museum of 'first' art" (musee d'art premier), even though most of the artifacts displayed were made in the past century. I could go on an enormous rant about it, but unfortunately homework keeps me from many things these days.

Speaking of homework, I just finished an enormous 7-page Sorbonne paper on Saint Augustine's "Confessions." And here's my own Confession: this is the first time I wrote a paper on a subject without fully finishing the text. I've read Confessions before (freshman year Lit Hum, duh), but in French I reached the end of the 7th chapter (out of 13). Oh the shame!!! *hangs head*

Now: Homework
Tonight: Ratatat concert
Thursday: Thanksgiving
Friday: London
Saturday: Cambridge

Wellington meets Paris

So this past weekend, my high school buddy Kelsey visited Monica, Melissa, and I in Paris. I was happy not only because us four were like the (4) Musketeers in high school (which one was D'Artagnan, though? who knows?) and we rarely get a chance to hang out together anymore (I am the only one who goes to an out-of-state college), but also because it gives me ample opportunity to be a ridiculous tourist without feeling guilty.


Kelsey arrived Wednesday, and since I had my once-a-week family dinner we stayed at the cite universitaire (Melissa's dorm) and talked for a little while. Thursday is my hell day (class from 9 to 5. Eeek) so I was happy, after the little sleep I had the night before (MGMT CONCERT HELL YEAH), to watch a play with Melissa and call it a night. The play itself was absolutely amazing-- "Des Gens" (more or less translated as "the people"), a quirky, hilarious, yet ultimately humanizing portrayal of insanity. (I'll include a review of it in Subbacultha soon)

Next day, I saw the Arc de Triomphe up close for the first time. Embarrassing, I know. It was raining and thus I couldn't quite get many artsy shots of the thing. Important, yes, but not my favorite monument:



I enjoyed the tomb of the unknown soldier more, in fact:



We strolled down the Champs-Elysees; also my first time in that little endeavor. Frankly I don't see the appeal of the Champs. It's pretty, yes-- but it's only stores, the equivalent of Michigan Ave in Chicago or Madison Ave in New York (if not 5th Ave, or a combination of the two). Needless to say I bought nothing, although I am in constant search of the perfect bowler hat, a la Rene Magritte... (ladies and gentlemen, take that as your hint for a Christmas present!)

We followed this by a pleasant stroll to the Tuileries. It suddenly became gorgeous; the sun set, and the sky, illuminated by city lights, became a soft lavender. Beautiful.



Dinner at Saint-Michel, again. I'm growing bored with Saint-Michel. As a neighborhood, interesting, and right next to both the Quartier Latin and the Notre Dame (really gorgeous to sit next to at night with a cup of hot chocolate). It is full of restaurants with 10-euro fixed-price dinners, but how good is the food, really? Unremarkable. Oftentimes I prefer an enormous shwarma sandwich for 5 euro, frites inclus. After dinner, a movie, and catching the last metro.

Saturday: Montmartre! Again! Amelie Cafe! Again! Saint-Michel for dinner! Again! But, got a chance to walk from the 18th to the 9th, and see the Opera, Galleries Lafayettes, and the Trinity Church.

Interior of the most obnoxious department store in the world, Galleries Lafayettes (plural? or singular? help?) :


And the gorgeous opera, commissioned by Napoleon III (sure beats the hell out of the Grand Projet opera Bastille):

Check out all of the people!

Unfortunately I also had to babysit that night, which in retrospect was not worth the few euros I received. Oh well. Here's to next weekend, and more exploring. Musee d'Orsay, maybe?

Concert fever

After Amsterdam, a bizarre week. Sunday night, right after arriving, I went to a Vampire Weekend concert, coincidentally only a few blocks away from where I live. It would have been an amazing concert had I: a. had a friend with me (concerts alone? Not so fun), and b. arrived earlier. Alas, I arrived right before the set and the floor was full, so I had to stay in the balcony. Bummer. That, and it was a Sunday. Who in their right mind would plan a concert for Sunday, my least favorite day of the week (work = ew ew ew)? Assholes, all of 'em.

Wednesday, however, my friends and I got tickets for a MGMT afterparty at the Social Club, by far my favorite place to "go out" in Paris. Alas, not really a concert, as MGMT was only DJ-ing, but an extremely memorable evening nonetheless. Hit me up for stories, 'cause I've got plenty.


So you might be wondering: when the hell does Julia do her work? To which my reply would be, half-jokingly, "What work?" Because though I do currently have 4 classes under my belt, none of them approach the commitment and work level that Columbia University has. Besides, every single assignment (excepting my Reid Hall courses) is due in December. This gives me plenty of free time, although I am always stressing in some form or other about December.

Because, whether I like to think about it or not, I have a little over a month left in this beautiful city, and I'm not quite ready to leave it. Sure, I miss American things-- bacon cheeseburgers, greasy fries, public transportation that doesn't stop running, friendliness, skyscrapers-- but I can't imagine a world without 400 types of government cheeses. And people playing the accordion in metro stations. And the ability to wear ridiculous clothing on a day-to-day basis because, hey, it's Paris, and if I want to wear a fedora then I'll wear a fucking fedora, damn it.

Until that regrettable day comes (T minus 36 days), it'll continue to be concert fever for me. I've already seen Justice, Coldplay, Vampire Weekend, and MGMT. I've already got Ratatat tickets for next weekend and I'm going to try to sneak into TV on the Radio. For now, life is good.

Amsterdam Ahoy!

Well, it has been 4 days since I left the beautiful city of Amsterdam, and I finally have a few moments to reflect on what has been an... interesting, if anything, experience. And oh, and experience it was.

One must not forget, however, that this is a public blog, which potential future employers can easily access if needed. So in brief, to hear the full story (and boy oh boy, what a [horrifically] amusing story it is), just talk to me old-school come December/January, write me a letter, or send over a facebook message.

We begin our adventure early Friday morning, having arrived at Amsterdam Centraal, the major train station. Thankfully our hostel, an oddly-decorated 20-person-per-room shitshow, was only a 5-minute walk away. After deposing of stuff, the first thing to do in the lovely city is, of course, to check out our neighborhood, a.k.a. the Red Light district.

Yes, the Red Light district had women posing in (not very) sexy lingerie in front of windows, although contrary to what Eurotrip and Deuce Bigolo seemed to imply, they were in fact grossly unattractive and looked quite bored. And yes, marijuana is, in fact, legal, as are mushrooms and various "soft" drugs. Coffeeshops abound-- 3 or 4 per block in some quarters.

The legalization of pot and prostitution aside, Amsterdam is in fact a gorgeous city. Amsterdam actually has more bridges than any other city on earth, including Venice and St. Petersburg:Amsterdam's architecture: simply adorable.

There were also crooked houses, which I loved more than anything:



I kept thinking of what Amsterdam reminded me of, and finally Sam and I realized that Amsterdam looked exactly like the way the North Pole is represented in those claymation Christmas videos they show on ABC family every December. You know. Those.

In brief: the first day was spent wandering, going to the Anne Frank house, being very disturbed, feeling very confused and paranoid, and collapsing into bed.

Thankfully, the second day was far more fun. We went to a pancake house, where I had Pofferedjes (spelling = unknown), the most delicious pancake puffs EVER.


Just look at that buttery/powdered sugar/ syrupy goodness. Oh heavens! I sure have missed unhealthy food in Paris. Apparently pounds upon pounds of cheese is better for you than I assumed?

After pancake deliciousness, we went to the Van Gogh Museum, which was, unsurprisingly, fantastic, followed with more Amsterdam wandering. My friend Nate was set on a canal cruise, so we went on a 12-euro trip. It was nighttime by then and the lights of Amsterdam were gooorgeous:

Most people, though, lulled by the boat and our collective exhaustion (despite getting over 12 hours of sleep in my case), didn't quite make it past the half-hour mark:


The problem with Amsterdam, though, is how completely tired you become after a few hours of wandering. It's quite a walkable city (perhaps only a 40-minute walk to transverse the length of it), so we were lax to take the tram anywhere. So the experience of Amsterdam was in fact the exact opposite of Barcelona, in which everything was vibrant and spirited-- rather, Amsterdam is mellow and (almost too) calm. However much I enjoyed Amsterdam, I was quite ready to leave.

Also, I think I have changed my mind on the whole marijuana-legalization issue. If all the world was Amsterdam, the human race would get absolutely nowhere. Then again, some people would not think of this as a problem at all. Certainly less stressful, if done properly. More on this another day, and of course you can always ask me about it in person.

Next trip: London, hopefully, later in the month. And now, recovering from last night's MGMT afterparty.

Later days!

WHAAAAAT?!?!?

So, I'm sitting on the metro just half an hour ago, minding my own business and attempting to read Rousseau's Confessions. I get distracted by two women with newspapers sitting across from me, both with covers showing Obama and the election (as I've said previously, Paris is obsessed with Obama). I stare at their newspapers, subtly reading over their shoulders, which is actually a really bad and slightly awkward habit of mine when I'm on the metro (ooops).

On the title page there are photos of various countries celebrating the Obamallama's victory, INCLUDING France. And I think, Hey, I was there, maybe I'll recognize some of the people in the photo.

And then I look.

AND THERE I AM!

My first newspaper cover!

All the sudden I gasp and say (in English, embarassingly enough) "OHMYGAWD," pointing to the cover and saying, "C'est moi!" and blushing like a madwoman. The lady holding the newspaper chuckles and asks if I want the paper, and though I clearly do, not knowing where in my neighborhood I could find a kiosk open in the evening, I shake my head. She laughs and carefully tears it out of the newspaper and gives me the cover page.

Ironic, isn't it? That the "Parisians" celebrating Obama's victory on the cover of Metro (not the most renowned of newspapers, but it's a start! And hey, a leg up from the Columbia Spectator, right?) are in fact a bunch of shwasted Americans on rue Daunou. It is, in fact, the Americans that Paris represented as the overjoyed French populace. *chuckles*

PROOF:

Think about this as a "Where's Waldo" adventure.


ENFIN:


Almost all these peeps are from Reid Hall or friends of Reid Hall. The girl I'm hugging with enthusiasm is Paulina's friend Sonia, and the content-looking boy behind her is Cristian, who is from Reid Hall.

We are beyond awesome.

http://readmetro.metrofrance.com/index.php?edition=paris

Obamapalooza and La Nuit Americaine

In Chicago, friends and neighbors piled into Grant Park, all shouting and some sobbing, amidst a glorious skyline, listening to Barack Obama's first speech as President of the United States. In New York, friends and fellow students marched into Broadway, flags waving, partying with the citizens, policemen, and professors alike.

In Paris, both French and American piled into the Opera quarter bars and watched the election numbers light up one by one, screaming and dancing and singing until 6 AM.

It was magnificent.

6 hours behind Eastern Standard Time, the troupe and I arrived somewhere around 11:45 PM. Harry's Bar was the place to be, advertised in all journaux as the best place to watch the election. Which meant: no way in hell were we going to get in. For the first hour or two we wandered around simply looking for a place to plop down, have a few drinks, and stare at a television until the new president was announced. Meanwhile, there were people to meet. The street was packed with journalists; I was interviewed in both Russian and English. Cameras abounded, flags unfurled, faces said OBAMA! USA! There was an excitement I had never seen before. Finally after many lines, many rejections, and a steadily increasing tension (I had been unable to sleep for days), we got into a packed bar right across from Harry's.

Soon, almost everyone from Reid Hall arrived, and in what seemed to be seconds the bar was full of us. Everyone surrounding the television was American, and specifically from Reid Hall. We were taking over.

And the numbers began lighting up. We threw caution... and money... to the wind. We danced and sung, time passed almost without notice. One minute it was 2:20 AM, the next it was 3:30 and Obama had an 100-electoral vote lead. Every time the screen showed Obama winning we yelled until we could yell no more. We had shot-inspired political discussions. We took photos. We drew on each other's faces with eyeliner. (My face said: "I WANT BARACK'S BABY." Or at least that's what they tell me it said)

And then it was 4:45 AM, and the bar was closing. We piled into the streets, glued to the TV set up just inside Harry's, nowhere near sleep and our hearts pounding wildly. And then, 5:15 AM, and I see, as a flash of light: "OBAMA ELECTED PRESIDENT." And everyone goes wild. There was a feeling of camaraderie rarely felt before, Americans from all over the world rejoicing, gathering in Paris at the breaking of dawn, shitfaced and pumping our fists in the air. We hugged people we had never met before. I cried. We sung the Star-Spangled Banner, got everyone at Reid Hall to join in. We couldn't stop smiling.

It was 6:15 AM when I piled into bed, accidentally missing my only class of the day 3 hours later. I had never been so happy.