The best I can do is to try to seem like I belong here... so, pink spikey hair, grey foo manchu, clint eastwood t-shirt, and a stylish new shoulder bag instead of pants.
Wow, Paris really has it going on...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Trying to Blend In...
The best I can do is to try to seem like I belong here... so, pink spikey hair, grey foo manchu, clint eastwood t-shirt, and a stylish new shoulder bag instead of pants.
Wow, Paris really has it going on...
Saturday, July 18, 2009
What Did I Ever Do To French People?!
Ok, I have to admit, I had a pretty amazing night, but I swear it seems like in other cities around the world cab drivers actually want to pick you up. What happened to me tonight is making me really want to learn to speak French, because at around 2:30am 4 cab drivers in a row just flat out said no to me. They pulled up, rolled down the window, and once I started speaking they just said no. Maybe it was because I wanted to go all the way out to Vitry-sur-seine during a busy time when they could just zip around Paris. That really could have been it because once it was 4am, I found a very nice driver... but let me back up.
The afternoon actually started with a nice leasurly boat tour of Paris. A very touristy thing that Valerie and Daniel insisted that I do with them. Once we were on the boat, they admitted that it was their first time. It seemed that they were the only French people around. I guess it's like riding the horse drawn carriages in Manhattan. If you grew up there, you just don't get on those frickin' things.
Once we were tired enough of walking around the center of touristy Paris, they walked me through Les Halles to a place called Duc de Lombards, where a friend of mine was playing a show. I said good-bye to Valerie and Daniel and, knowing that the trains stop running after around 11, decided to stay for both sets and commit myself to taking a cab home. The music was great, and afterward there was a Jam session which was really great. After a couple of hours, I thought it was dying down, so I attempted to get a cab... no luck. When I went back in, the music just started heating up again. More and more musicians were coming to play, and plenty of people were just there to listen! Yay Paris! I forgive you for not liking that I only speak English... it's so great to know that the music I like to play is apprecieated! So, when it finally ended at 4am, I found my cab.
This guy was so sweet. After I figured out how to tell him where to go (by writing it on a piece of paper), I apologized for my terrible French and he smiled really big and said, "Oui! Se bon!" I laughed a lot, partly because it was ridiculous to call my French good, but mostly because he was so jolly and smiley and I was happy to get a ride home.
So I can't decide... Can I make a generalization about French people, or not? Most of the strangers I have met in France have lost all their politeness upon realizing that I'm American. They don't just stop being polite, they act as if that politeness they thought they were extending to a well meaning fellow Frenchman was wasted, and now they have to undo it somehow by being incredibly rude. Well, the truth is I have met quite a few incredibly warm and forgiving people here, so I really can't generalize. But it's still wierd. Ach... I've got some more time here, though. I'm gonna keep playing around and see what I find.
The afternoon actually started with a nice leasurly boat tour of Paris. A very touristy thing that Valerie and Daniel insisted that I do with them. Once we were on the boat, they admitted that it was their first time. It seemed that they were the only French people around. I guess it's like riding the horse drawn carriages in Manhattan. If you grew up there, you just don't get on those frickin' things.
Once we were tired enough of walking around the center of touristy Paris, they walked me through Les Halles to a place called Duc de Lombards, where a friend of mine was playing a show. I said good-bye to Valerie and Daniel and, knowing that the trains stop running after around 11, decided to stay for both sets and commit myself to taking a cab home. The music was great, and afterward there was a Jam session which was really great. After a couple of hours, I thought it was dying down, so I attempted to get a cab... no luck. When I went back in, the music just started heating up again. More and more musicians were coming to play, and plenty of people were just there to listen! Yay Paris! I forgive you for not liking that I only speak English... it's so great to know that the music I like to play is apprecieated! So, when it finally ended at 4am, I found my cab.
This guy was so sweet. After I figured out how to tell him where to go (by writing it on a piece of paper), I apologized for my terrible French and he smiled really big and said, "Oui! Se bon!" I laughed a lot, partly because it was ridiculous to call my French good, but mostly because he was so jolly and smiley and I was happy to get a ride home.
So I can't decide... Can I make a generalization about French people, or not? Most of the strangers I have met in France have lost all their politeness upon realizing that I'm American. They don't just stop being polite, they act as if that politeness they thought they were extending to a well meaning fellow Frenchman was wasted, and now they have to undo it somehow by being incredibly rude. Well, the truth is I have met quite a few incredibly warm and forgiving people here, so I really can't generalize. But it's still wierd. Ach... I've got some more time here, though. I'm gonna keep playing around and see what I find.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A "Succesfull" Adventure
What makes something a failure or a success? I suppose it depends upon the intention. If my intention had been to spend my first day in France finding my way into town, finding some nice things to do, buying a few important items, and not spending too much money (oh, and let's not forget avoiding being the stereotypical stupid-American), then I have certainly failed. Perhaps one of the main tricks in life is to change your intention (even if it has to be in retrospect) in order to make a success. Okay. Let's call today an adventure.
This adventure left me with 13€ out the window, a bunch of increasingly frustrated-looking photos of my face of all different sizes, and a 27€ subway pass (good for 1 week starting two days ago) that is not valid because it still doesn't have my face on it. But I did get to watch cheerful French people turn sour when they found out that all I wanted was change for a five and that I don't speak French. I did pretty well keeping my chin up and going into different stores and asking for change so that I could try that bloody photo machine again. But three times was enough, and I've spent more than enough money on nothing today.
So, I'm back in Valerie's apartment. I'm actually quite taken care of. Valerie and Daniel picked me up yesterday from "right in the middle of nowhere" (I had wandered off from the bus station in search of someplace that was open, but it was Bastille day) and welcomed me with pizza and Miles Davis. We spent a late night drinking the raki I brought and appreciating greek music and art. They got up early to go to work, and I just slept in. It was really nice to spend a morning to myself; the kitchen didn't mind that I was American, and the shower happily spoke to me in a language that I understood. In a couple of hours, Daniel will return from work and show me to his place, where I'll be staying for the next 3 weeks, and I'll let him laugh about the "progress" of my day.
I knew what I was getting myself into, Daniel told me in the car: "Sometimes people around here speak this strange language..." Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe when I wake up I'll magically know what the hell I'm doing.
This adventure left me with 13€ out the window, a bunch of increasingly frustrated-looking photos of my face of all different sizes, and a 27€ subway pass (good for 1 week starting two days ago) that is not valid because it still doesn't have my face on it. But I did get to watch cheerful French people turn sour when they found out that all I wanted was change for a five and that I don't speak French. I did pretty well keeping my chin up and going into different stores and asking for change so that I could try that bloody photo machine again. But three times was enough, and I've spent more than enough money on nothing today.
So, I'm back in Valerie's apartment. I'm actually quite taken care of. Valerie and Daniel picked me up yesterday from "right in the middle of nowhere" (I had wandered off from the bus station in search of someplace that was open, but it was Bastille day) and welcomed me with pizza and Miles Davis. We spent a late night drinking the raki I brought and appreciating greek music and art. They got up early to go to work, and I just slept in. It was really nice to spend a morning to myself; the kitchen didn't mind that I was American, and the shower happily spoke to me in a language that I understood. In a couple of hours, Daniel will return from work and show me to his place, where I'll be staying for the next 3 weeks, and I'll let him laugh about the "progress" of my day.
I knew what I was getting myself into, Daniel told me in the car: "Sometimes people around here speak this strange language..." Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe when I wake up I'll magically know what the hell I'm doing.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Folegandros, One Year Later
Well, the season has arrived again and I've had my first real sadhu adventure of the year. Being with family always has it's rich rewards and challenges, but there is nothing like being alone and facing the world without anyone's coloring but my own.
On the last full day on the island—after almost 3 weeks of extravagant foods, luxurious accommodations, and nearing social overload—I decided to find my own way to enjoy this magical place. I grabbed my video camera and headed out by myself; no bus, car, restaurant, beach, or well beaten path could satisfy me. I took the direct route to the Aegean Sea: straight down the side of the cliff, over and around the rock walls which had been built by enslaved communists—free thinkers, artists, scientists, good people taking their creative energy and putting it into the rocks.
On the last full day on the island—after almost 3 weeks of extravagant foods, luxurious accommodations, and nearing social overload—I decided to find my own way to enjoy this magical place. I grabbed my video camera and headed out by myself; no bus, car, restaurant, beach, or well beaten path could satisfy me. I took the direct route to the Aegean Sea: straight down the side of the cliff, over and around the rock walls which had been built by enslaved communists—free thinkers, artists, scientists, good people taking their creative energy and putting it into the rocks.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Kartoffelpuffer, Spaghetti Ice, and Rammstein
The last post, being over 2 weeks ago, seems like the distant past; I have been through so much since then, and have rarely had the time (or perhaps the proper state of mind) to do any writing. Among my experiences were: being treated by complete strangers to a 5 hour umpteen course meal at a fancy restaurant in Milan (while still smelling like the Romanian metro), traveling across Italy and Switzerland with my step-dad's band in a double-decker tour bus with tinted windows, seeing an incredible jazz show, and making a new dear friend with whom I made delicious food and explored Zürich. Finally, last week, I got myself to Scheeßel, Germany, where I could stop, get some much needed rest, and take multiple showers.
Scheeßel (not Schneedel, which is what a German boy calls his penis; and not Schnabel, which is the mouth of a bird) is a beautiful little town an hour or so outside of Hamburg, with sweet little shops, stone and brick streets, and vast corn fields on the outskirts with wide mountain-free skylines. Staying with Riki and her family, all of whom are very good in the kitchen, I have been exposed to lots of new and beautiful food. Kartoffelpuffer, which is surprisingly similar to a Latke (they even serve it with apple sauce!)--but the potato is mashed more finely instead of shredded and the cake is thinner and softer--was something that was introduced to me as "very German." Other things, (like "spaghetti ice" and the metal band, "Rammstein"), which were supposed to be very widely known, were completely new to me. I was taken to a Rammstein cover band show a few days ago, and I was the only one there who didn't know all of the songs. There was a fireworks show afterward, though, which was nice considering my quiet 4th of July on that small Greek island.
But now, after a somewhat event-filled week, the family is gone, and Riki and I are here at the house alone. The next week or so I'll spend playing piano, swimming, riding bikes, watching movies, making food, reading, writing, and sleeping full nights. It shouldn't be too challenging.
Scheeßel (not Schneedel, which is what a German boy calls his penis; and not Schnabel, which is the mouth of a bird) is a beautiful little town an hour or so outside of Hamburg, with sweet little shops, stone and brick streets, and vast corn fields on the outskirts with wide mountain-free skylines. Staying with Riki and her family, all of whom are very good in the kitchen, I have been exposed to lots of new and beautiful food. Kartoffelpuffer, which is surprisingly similar to a Latke (they even serve it with apple sauce!)--but the potato is mashed more finely instead of shredded and the cake is thinner and softer--was something that was introduced to me as "very German." Other things, (like "spaghetti ice" and the metal band, "Rammstein"), which were supposed to be very widely known, were completely new to me. I was taken to a Rammstein cover band show a few days ago, and I was the only one there who didn't know all of the songs. There was a fireworks show afterward, though, which was nice considering my quiet 4th of July on that small Greek island.
But now, after a somewhat event-filled week, the family is gone, and Riki and I are here at the house alone. The next week or so I'll spend playing piano, swimming, riding bikes, watching movies, making food, reading, writing, and sleeping full nights. It shouldn't be too challenging.
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