J'ai fait une grosse connerie...

One freezing Saturday, a couple of weeks ago, my flatmate and I found ourselves at the SQY-Ouest centre commercial in St Quentin-en-Yvelines.



It is approximately 50 minutes west of central Paris by the delightful RER C. So, what made me make such a journey, you ask? The answer is: a dress. A rather pretty dress, but just a dress nonetheless. This is where the 'grosse connerie' comes in.

Quite a while ago I placed an order with Zara's online store. Being the cheapskate that I am, I opted for 'in store delivery' which is free. When I entered my postcode, the website gave me a list of three shops to send my item to. I recognised two and, out of curiosity, searched the street address of the third. Google maps showed the shop as being a mere few streets away from my home, so thinking I was being clever, I chose that one. I thought nothing of it until Zara sent me an email kindly informing me that my order was in store...in a store with the postcode 78180. As it didn't begin with 750 (meaning it wasn't in central Paris), I googled it and found out it was at the end of the RER C line, 50 minutes to the west of Paris.



I ended up paying €10 train fare (more than three times the delivery fee!), making a 50 minute journey, and almost freezing to death waiting for the RER. The moral of this story: always pay the three euro delivery fee!

Just Another Night Out in Paris...

Last night, my flat mate and I decided to go out for "a couple" of drinks, and to not make it a "late one." After four cocktails and a glass of wine later, we ended up getting home at 5am with two members of quite a famous (at the time) band, strictly for providing a place to crash and nothing else, you understand.

So we get to Le Motel at around 10pm and find a drinks menu. Unfortunately, two gentlemen had decided to set up camp in front of it so we shuffled over to take a look and due to terrible eyesight, ended up squinting at the menu for a little too long and started to annoy said gentlemen. Luckily, we found another menu.

Le Motel is one of those grimy (in a good way) indie bars. They provide indie music (of course) and soft rock, none that I recognized but good for background music. There is a funky, circular bar right in the middle of the second room and not many places to sit. Luckily we found seats. With €6,50 cocktails, you can't go wrong (this is good for Paris!)

We had no more encounters with the bar guys until much later when they came over and got chatting to us. Friendly Irish chaps who, little did we know, are/were in a pretty famous band. I'm not going to say which, instead I'll just say we had a thrilling evening...

Anyway, bar closes around 2am and we've missed the last metro; so much for "not a late one." As is usual in Paris there were no taxis anywhere near the bar, so we headed to Bastille to catch one, to no avail. We all ended up going to a cafe and I got something I haven't gotten since I left England...post-night out chips! Granted they cost €7,50 but they were good chips!

After we finished chips and wine - oh so French - we headed back to our flat and provided a nice hospitable sofa. This morning (afternoon) my flat mate, being a good hostess, saw them out. A pair of forgotten gloves and a forgotten iphone later, that was it for Celebrity Encounter in Paris #2!

A Few Days in Barcelona

On Monday (technically Tuesday when we landed), I returned to Paris after a rather traumatic experience with delayed flights, no trains or buses running and an expensive taxi ride home, made all the more traumatic by the fact that I didn't want to leave.

Barcelona is amazing; it is pretty, bohemian, laid back and the people are friendly and accommodating. My friend has even decided that she wants to live there in the future. We stayed in the Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Quarter) for 4 days/3 nights. It was truly beautiful and this comes from someone who lives in Paris!

We explored the Gothic Quarter as far as Plaça Catalunya down to the sea front. The side streets were filled with people milling around outside shops, restaurants and bars. It wasn't unpleasantly busy, however, there were just enough people to still get around but enjoy the buzz. We went to La Sagrada Familia, Arc de Triomf, Jardins de la Ciudadela, Catedral de Barcelona, numerous Christmas markets and, of course, the high street.



Another (always) enjoyable experience was sampling the local foods and drinks: paella, sangria and xocolata a la tassa (hot melted chocolate in a mug). However, there was one unpleasant dining experience in the form of 'xocolata con churros.' Evidently, the 'chocolate' part was great, it was the 'churros' (deep-fried doughnut-pastry things) which made me scrunch up my face and throw away €3.50 worth of food.

All dining experiences aside, I found my new favourite spot in the world on Montjüic which is a mountain comprising a few gardens, museums, a castle and my new favourite place; a little cafe with outdoor seating and an amazing view of the city. Paired with reasonable prices, good coffee and a little sun, it was perfect.

The whole experience was, of course, enhanced by the fact that it was 10 degrees hotter than Paris and I got a break from the current end-of-year exams/essays stress. Et alors, time to stop dreaming of sangria and mountain-side cafes and get back to work...

Marché de Noël des Champs Elysées

I thought the Christmas Market in Birmingham was great but this one at Champs Elysées is amazing! I love ambling around a good market so I couldn't wait for it to open and when it did, it didn't disappoint! Lovely Christmas food, pretty jewellery and scarves and obligatory Christmas tat is found in abundance here. Only went down one side though...can't wait to return!

Despite this market being so brilliant I really can't wait to go to the one at home. I think it is because I am secretly looking forward to going home; this semester at uni has been difficult, to say the least. I really can't wait for a break and a fresh start next semester. Most of all though I am looking forward to guilt-free sleeping and tea on tap from mom.

La Reputation

Well, félicitations les anglais, we have made a bad reputation for ourselves...just about everywhere that's not England. During numerous conversations had while I've been living in Paris, people have asked me 'Do you know what the French think of the English?' Apart from 'not much' I wasn't really sure that I did. I know that Americans think that we Brits have bad teeth and all speak the Queen's English. I knew that people from Eastern countries see the English (although, maybe most of the Western world as well?) as somewhat promiscuous. So, with these stereotypes in place I was preparing for something I could confidently deny and respond with 'C'est pas vrai de tout le monde!' Instead, I am met with "Nous pensons que vous sortez, buvez trop, faisez n'importe quoi et sont tous gros." (We think that you all go out and drink loads, get really drunk and act stupid...and are all fat.)

Sadly, I did not feel like I could deny these claims with any substantial evidence to the contrary. With TV shows such as 'Booze Britain' and 'Fat Families' we haven't really helped ourselves to shift the stereotype, and I suppose going out and drinking every weekend, getting into a state and finishing the night with chips and a kebab has helped much either.

Anyway, this forces me to wonder why we are a culture so heavily based around drinking / alcohol. Is it because, as psychologists guess, alcohol is a taboo? In France children are exposed to alcohol at a young age so it does not seem so forbidden to them. Another scape goat I am tempted to turn to is the US. Having such a huge world influence makes America accountable for a lot of our troubles (or so we would like to think). In this instance, perhaps America is responsible for the rise in obesity levels, as they have a higher obesity rate than the UK, but I'm not sure we can blame them for the excessive drinking.

Who knows. I never really thought much of it back at home, I was quite happy to leave it up to the government to sort out but it has definitely made me a little more self-aware. So, time to cut down on the drinking? Well, don't know if I'd go quite that far...

Harcelement: Top 5

Living in Paris, one is prone to a bit of friendly harassment now and then. The chances of which happening are much increased if you live in Barbès, leave the house in anything less than a nun's habit and, well, is a given if you go out in the evening dressed up to go to a club/bar/party. I would like to share my favourite moments of harassment, most of which are actually exceptions to the above circumstances.

5. Grabby
Luckily, I haven't been a victim of such extreme incidents as my friends; however, I have been repeatedly grabbed and held on to. It happened to me at the Paris Techno Parade, it has happened in clubs and, where else but, Barbès metro station. I have been managing to fight my way free so far...


4. Money for sex
There have actually been two separate occasions on which this has happened. One took place in Le Marais at 10.30am while a friend walked to uni; a man followed her all the way from the metro station to campus and offered her money to spend the night with him. The other was at 4am, somewhere near Barbès, my housemate was followed home and when she got to the door the guy tried to shove his tongue down her throat and some money into her hand to, again, spend the night with him.

3. Indecent exposure
A friend was minding her own business on the notorious line two of the metro (notorious because it goes through all the suspect areas of Paris - Barbès, La Chapelle, Pigalle, Belleville...) when the man opposite her brushed her knees, she looked over at him and mid 'Pardon' she noticed that he had his trousers unzipped and was exposing himself to her. To make things worse this sneak preview was just for her as he had shielded himself from the rest of the passengers with his briefcase. To quote the friend "tears were shed."

2. Taser
A friend was waiting at Saint-Lazare station when she heard a buzzing noise, but disregarded it as a noise made by the metro lines. She then spotted a shady character who was approaching people, repeating the phrase "Je suis policier." He was not a police man. He had somehow acquired a taser and proceeded to follow my friend up and down the length of the platform threatening her with said taser. Luckily she managed to jump on the train in time to escape him.

1. Pelvic thrust
We were three girls sitting on a four seater on the metro with an empty set of four seats next to us, when we pulled into Montparnasse station and were joined by a few rowdy boys. Understatement. One sat on the empty seat with his legs wide open blocking us in while his friends occupied the other four seats and shouted at us. This was just about manageable; the harrasment part comes in when they all proceeded to get off the metro and one ran back, pressed himself against my friend, grabbed her and repeatedly thrusted his pelvis into her head. Hard. Luckily, she found the funny side and laughed about it. I would have cried.

To conclude, we are all going to go home stronger, more assertive people or completely traumatised. On verra...

Fashionably Late

I know I'm a bit late in starting this year abroad blog as I'll have been here for nine weeks on Saturday, however, this just means that I have so much to write about that it will be a more-interesting-than-normal first post.

Adventures

Meeting Pete Doherty - he was sitting outside a cafe in the Marais district when my friends and I spotted him as we walked past; we walked on calmly until we were out of sight and then screamed like thirteen year olds. Two of us plucked up the courage to go and speak to him and managed to get a few snaps.



Carl Barat's secret gig - going with the Libertines theme, I went to see Carl Barat's warm up gig for his concert at La Cigale on Friday. All thanks to my housemate, a Burberry scarf and Twitter. Read the story here.



Living in Barbès - is like an adventure in itself, what with the drug dealers, prostitutes and security guards in KFC (the only one I have seen in Paris, by the way). A melange of fake designer goods, limbless beggars, crap cigarettes and sweetcorn barbecued on a bin in a shopping trolley means that there is never a dull moment here...

Observations

Concerning men - never have I come across such a large quantity of good looking guys in one place. One can, to quote a friend, "fall in love" everywhere; the metro, supermarket, walking down the street etc. On the other hand, never have I come across such a large quantity of forward, frankly, rude men. Some guys think nothing of proposing indecent liaisons to you in the street and then feel it is unfair when you reject them? Paris, the city of romance.

Everything takes forever to get sorted - it took me six weeks to get my bank account opened. It takes at least three weeks to receive the student metro card. Finding somewhere to live, well, it's practically impossible.

Paris is quirky - from wine served in babies bottles to the concert on a balcony, from creepy churches with illuminated piles of sand to discovering free exhibitions or concerts, Paris is always full of surprises!



There are so many more things that I wish to share but I'll just leave this as a small summary of my first nine weeks here, with many more tales to come...

A bientot!