Yet again...

I manage to break my promise of writing in this twice a week.  I'm sure this has left all four of you that actually read this all curled up in a corner rocking back and forth, just waiting for more.  Well the methadone has arrived my friends.  Here we go...

First, and definitely foremost, I finally went to Paris this weekend.  The fact that I lived in France for more than a month before hitting the Paris streets makes me a little sick to my stomach.  I'm just glad I've remedied this fact now.  Either way, I spent the weekend living in Versailles with my old buddy Andrew Organ from high school.  I hadn't actually seen him for two years before Friday, but we seemed to pick up as if that time in between had never happened.  Andrew has been living in Versailles (which is about a half hour out of Paris) for the entire year on an architecture program from the University of Illinois.

I got to Paris, Gare de Lyon, at around 2:00 on Friday.  I then figured out the metro/RER lines, or what have you, and made my way out to Versailles.  I met Andrew there a little bit later on.  He showed me around his school which is ridiculously nicer than the one I go to.  I've described my school as "Bratislavaesque".  I'd give his school at least "Warsawesque".  Either way, it seemed like a really great program consisting of a close knit group of kids.  None of them spoke French for all intents and purposes before moving, which is BRAVE AS HELL if you ask me.  

Afterwards, Andrew went off to a meet his "gypsy band" (I'll explain later), while I made friends with his roommate Daniel, who was to be my babysitter for the night.  We had dinner and hung out for a bit, and then we hit the train system to get back into Paris to see Andrew's band perform that night...

The metro...hilarious.  It's exactly as absurd as everyone told me it was.  In one three day stay in Paris, I managed to witness someone throwing up, someone receiving sexual favors, and two guys straight up smoking crack.  Now I've never even seen crack (you can breathe mom!), let alone seen it smoked, let alone on public transportation.  So I apologize if this seems naive to the crack experienced out there, but this was shocking to me.

We got to this dive bar somewhere in Paris shortly after to see Andrew's gypsy band.  Okay, so gypsy band.  What the fuck is this you ask???  Good question...I'll tell you.  It's an all brass band filled with all French people and then Andrew and his other roommate.  They basically get smashed, put on ridiculous outfits, and play such classics as "Hot Stuff" and various ABBA.  Needless to say, while jumping into that frigid cold pool everyday sophomore year for swim practice with Andrew, I never once thought that I would see him doing this.  Despite the slight awkwardness that came with not actually knowing anyone there except Andrew, it seemed like a pretty authentic experience.  

Saturday, we slept in late, as I was exhausted and Andrew's drunk ass definitely needed a few extra hours of sleep if they were available.  We got into Paris later that afternoon where Andrew took me to see all things that one must do on their first time to Paris, no matter how cliché they are.  We went to the Eiffel Tower, walked down the Champs Elysées, and saw l'arch de triomphe.  After that, we took the metro out to the Centre Pompidou (the crazy building that's tubes and pipes are all exposed), and then to Notre Dame.  Finally, we went back to the Eiffel Tower to see the light show at 8:00.  Stellar, enough said.  

Andrew and I went out to his friend's house that night where we played some drinking games like some good ol' Americans.  There were a couple really random French people there, but I got to talking to one of them about what the hell I was doing there.  He eventually told me that of all the study abroad students he has ever met, I speak by far the best French....This is possibly the best compliment that an American can receive in France, no joke.  I was giddy about this for quite a bit. 

Today, I went to the Louvre.  Baller is the expression that comes to mind here.  That and "Asian Tourist".  They're everywhere.  I had to fight through like 50 of them just to get a look at the Mona Lisa, and same went for the Venus de Milo.  Other than that, it was one of the greatest things I've ever done.  The Rubens room is breathtaking.  Andrew and I played a game where he sat in the middle of the room and made witty commentary about what he thought was going on in the paintings (all of which were bigger than my apartment times 2) and then I went up and read what was actually going on.  Which brings me to what I really admired about the Louvre.  I loved that they didn't put a billion different translations next to each painting.  They just have one in French.  I felt like too many of those little plaques would detract from the displays.  Granted, I read French...so I imagine opinions vary based on language competence. 

I trained back home to Montpellier at 3:30 this afternoon.  I was actually quite sad to be leaving.  I don't know whether it was because I was leaving a friggin awesome city or the comfort of a familiar face (probably a little of both), but either way I need to go back soon.  On the way home, I started thinking about how I'm going to remember this trip.  I was looking at some of France's breathtaking country landscapes and thinking...how the hell am I going to remember I saw this exact place at this exact time.  Of course I'll always remember going to the Louvre, but will I remember the funny banter I had or the delicious chicken caesar wrap Andrew and I split?  A lot of times, it's these little things that make the bigger things seem even greater, and I would hate to lose them in the dank pit that is my brain.  Photos will help, and so will this blog and my personal journal.  But I can't hit apple+s on everything I see, and I can't write down everything that happens.  Even if I could, I don't think my writing skills are good enough to really express everything that happens in a given moment in order to bring me back to it at a later time, and the pictures I've taken thus far haven't done one single bit of justice.  This might just have to be something I get over, I'm not sure.  Maybe I'll attach a video camera to the top of my had and run it 24/7.  Genius...

Okay...pictures are forthcoming...I promise.  Though my camera did die in the middle of Paris, so I only have the beginning and the end of that.  But Andrew is sending me the rest.  

A bientot!!!! 

Corey