A give me eight...

It's funny how the most mundane things become utter travails when you are abroad. Case in point: buying half-of-a-baguette. This weekend I've been sentenced to do mind-numbing RA work and I only leave my apartment in order to buy my bread for the day. Since it is Sunday and this is Europe, only one bakery was open. The line was out the door! As I stood in line, I recited what I was going to say in my head: "Je voudrais une demi baguette, merci." Not tough, right? Well, little beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on my palms and I had this anxious feeling in my stomach. You know, the feeling you get right before you have to take a prelim. Yes, it was that bad. The worst part was I couldn't see if they had any demi-baguettes left. No, the little old ladies ahead of me were strategically placed so I couldn't see the selection. Shoot, I needed a plan B. I looked around desperately, but couldn't see anything. Now the line was moving and my feet began to feel moist. When I got up there, I asked for a demi-baguette, and the plain lady behind the counter whipped one out. You know me...I changed my mind...and then I changed it again. I went with the original demi, but at least I did it without stumbling over my French too badly. Still, I could hardly believe that such a little thing could cause me so much anxiety. Mon dieu!

Mmm...chocolate

That's right: Special K with dark chocolate shavings. By the way, this is supposed to be HEALTHY! And people wonder why I love this country... P.S. All photos have been courtesy of photo booth. I lost my cable that transfers my photos to the computer. I'm going to look for one tomorrow.

Jet Lag

So I just woke up from a three hour nap! It is 5:55 in the evening; I was out at 2:50. Did I mention that I woke up at 5:30 am? Does anyone have any advice on how to stop this insanity, this viciuos circle of sorts? Yesterday I hoofed it to Sciences Po where I was outfitted with my library card and credentials for my stay in France. Woot-woot! In the metro on the way over, I was stuck in a middle of a throng of loud, madly gesticulating Italians. Yes, that stereotype was not disconfirmed yesterday. Why is it when Italians yell it's considered charming, yet when Americans bellow it's annoying? The nice thing about being in Paris in April as opposed to June and July is that they were the only tourists I really saw. I'm sure there were others, but please don't tell me. And no, I don't count! No, I'm studying. I'm researching. I'm sleeping through the afternoon. I even missed tango class last night because I was out... Anyway... The library was pretty nice, although it had a fairly limited selection. I checked out 5 books (the maximum) that I would never have read (or found) in AA. As I was flipping through one last night, I couldn't help but think wow, I'm lucky. I'm getting paid to do what I love most, read, and be in the city that I adore, Paris.

And so my journey into pre-dissertation work begins...

Bonjour! And so my journey into pre-dissertation work begins... I'm in Paris and it feels great to be back. It was quite an ordeal to find my apartment. It turns out that in order to hail a taxi one must wave her arms frantically, as if she was a windmill or certifiably insane. After fourty-five (!!) minutes of politely extending my arm, a taxi stopped and I arrived to my place for the next month. This place is a real treasure. Unlike last year, I am greeted by a certain peace when I enter the apartment and not the smell of piss and must. The lady I'm living with is Australian and she teaches movement. We speak in French (she's lived here for 14 years) and will speak in Spanish tomorrow (she says she needs to practice). The place is very airy and light, with minimalist decoration that is just right. I'm including some pictures: The neighborhood is also very cool. I'm in the 14th Arrondissement. As I went on a stroll last night, I saw an artist's studio complete with a class full of painters, natch, a man in African attire talking on his cell-phone, children with headscarves speaking perfect French, and two older women discussing Sarkozy over a glass of wine. Now I'm going to Sciences Po to get my affiliation. More to come!

Annoyed

Grrr...blogger just got rid of my old-new blog with blogger. I am so annoyed right now that I don't even want to write a proper entry. Why did it take away my old-new blog!?