Great Expectations

I was sat in my History lecture today and we were discussing the representation of Paris in Woody Allen’s film Midnight In Paris (incidentally I can’t stand the film – I blame you Owen Wilson) and I was thinking about what I thought Paris was going to be like when I moved here.

I seem to remember thinking I was going to be going to lots of galleries and sitting in bars having deep meaningful conversations with dark, handsome strangers who were painters or sculptors. I’ve been to a few galleries but no such luck on the handsome strangers’ front. It’s weird the impression that everyone has of Paris and its creative soul. In the imaginations of most it smells of cigarettes and has this ethereal presence that can’t help but enchant every visitor. There is the classic quote from Hemmingway that “if you are lucky enough to live in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast” and I think that is what I expected of Paris.

The point of this blog was always to document my travels around the city and what jackanapes I got up to here but I don’t think I envisaged the extent to which I think the city has changed me.  I took the title of this blog from a book I read about Paris. The Dud Avocado is about an American girl who moves to Paris and aims to go more native than the natives. She is the mistress of a civil servant, she ends up as an extra on a film in Biarritz in a bid to become an actress, she loses her passport and declares herself a citizen of the world but the main thing she does is that she finds her true self in Paris. It might seem a bit corny but I think it’s the perfect place to do just that. I haven’t quite gone to the extent that the character in The Dud Avocado goes to but I think I’ve managed to push my boundaries here and challenge myself.

I’m not sure when exactly it was that I started feeling comfortable here but I’d say it was in the last 10 months or so. The architecture, the language and the people themselves were all things I felt I had to get to grips with. The architecture must seem like such a weird thing to say but I think I felt when I first moved here like I had to fit in with the city around me and that included looking appropriate in the setting. When I used to live by the Eiffel Tower I’d always have this monument staring down at me watching my every move when I walked out of my front door in the morning. Eventually I got used to it, but it took a while I can tell you. Now I keep getting asked whether I’m fluent in French yet to which my answer is not really. I mean I’m so much better than I used to be and I think a lot less about what I’m going to say and it all comes a bit more naturally. I just don’t feel like I’m quite there yet, maybe it is just that I haven’t fully grasped all the French tenses yet but hopefully soon that will happen. Parisians get a hard rep for being a little bit frosty which is true to a certain extent but if you try with them they’ll love you forever. When my family came to visit in the summer we went to this restaurant/bar on Rue Cler for Happy Hour pretty much every day for their St Germain liqueur cocktail. The restaurant was staffed by your typical Parisian waiters – quite cocky but essentially lovely. They could tell we were English from a mile off but as soon as I started chatting to them in French they absolutely loved us and came over to talk pretty much every time we went there.

I expected to be a lot more intimidated of Paris than I ended up being and for that I’m so glad. I’d say I still have some expectations of the city but that I need to go out and make them happen. Maybe soon I shall meet my tall, dark, handsome stranger in the next bar? Paris has taught me to go out and look for that next opportunity and to embrace what happens to you. Go with the flow it might just work out for the best. 

Charlie Hebdo

Today in Paris something shocking has happened. One of the biggest shootings of the century was down to a satirical magazine. Journalists and cartoonists were the target of this act of terrorism. It shocks me that in this modern age freedom of expression has been attacked in this way. France is a country that fought for its freedoms and is a country that is founded on freedom. You can’t turn a corner in Paris without seeing a building inscribed with the words “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité” so you could be forgiven for assuming that an act like this would never be able to take place given this national ideal. Living in Paris, you hear many people complain about the various demonstrations and protests because they’ve disturbed the daily commute or you can’t cross the river because there is a march taking place. But I think it’s massively important that people can express their views in a peaceful and lawful manner. The attack on the satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo is there to shock journalists and cartoonists into silence. As an aspiring writer and journalist I have been compelled to express my views on this subject. Freedom of debate and expression in the media is vital to a functioning society. I heard something that I thought was very poignant in relation to press regulation – “Don’t ban it, just don’t buy it”. I understand how the cartoons produced by the weekly satirical magazine might have been found offensive but if you don’t like it, don’t buy it. Even better, if you really want to express your opinions then a peaceful protest is the way forward. There is a man outside the metro stop by uni who really doesn’t seem to like Francois Hollande which is his right. He stands there nearly every single day with his homemade signs expressing his political right to protest. If only more people were like him and could act in lawful ways to defend their rights. We must not let this subdue the press when actually these are the kinds of ideas they, in my opinion, should be challenging and writing about and not the kind of press that simply prints trashy stories about celebrities just because they sell better.

My thoughts are with the families of those killed and with Paris as a city mourns this sad loss. 

Late Night Thoughts

So I got asked the other night if I liked Paris or not and this got me thinking about what it is I actually like about possibly one of the most written about cities in the world. There are so many clichéd reasons to love the city of Light and they’re the reasons people visit on their romantic breaks. But I think the residents of the capital have different reasons why they enjoy their city. I’ve previously described my admiration and enjoyment of the novel Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert hence this apology for yet again mentioning it. There is a great part in the book where see talks about living in Rome and she talks about how living somewhere is different to visiting it. Some things are just different when you are there living them and you tend to appreciate different aspects of the place when it is a part of your daily life. Thus I’ve compiled a list of things about Paris that are better when you live there than when you’re spending a weekend there.

·         Baguettes – the quintessential French foodstuff. They just aren’t the same when they are fresh out of the oven and dipped in baked Camembert. You don’t get to savour these as much as the locals do when you are staying in a hotel as not many are fitted out with a cheeky oven to bake your own cheese (on a side note neither is my flat, disappointingly).

·         The museums – I love a gallery. But I don’t think I really started liking them until I got to Paris. I’m not really sure what the reason for that is, maybe it’s something to do with trying to make the most of everything while I’m there. I think that you don’t really get the benefit of all the museums and art galleries when you visit for a holiday. You spend all this time shuffling round behind the swathes of tourists on guided tours so you don’t get to savour in the art. The Louvre is so much more magical at half nine on a Thursday evening – the time when your standard tourist digs into their generic chocolate mousse in an “authentic” restaurant complete with dodgy service.

·         The Seine – Alright it’s a bit smelly and a rather attractive shade of brown, but there isn’t much better than grabbing a pack of beers in the summer and taking them down to Ile De La Cîté and having a drinking and a gossip with mates as the sun goes down, even despite the occasional rodent!

I’m rather looking forward to going back to Paris this Friday after spending the holidays at home. Hopefully I’ll be able to add a few more things to this list after finishing my second term of my second year at uni. I know I made the best decision when I clicked that button to apply to ULIP, so hopefully more crazy stories are to come along with maybe a bit of work thrown in. 

The Lift Test

There is an old saying that goes something like: friends will visit you in jail but best friends will help you hide the body. This particular little phrase crossed my mind as I’d finished my last essay of the calendar year before going home for the festive season.

I think I may have devised a more practical solution to this particular piece of advice regarding friendship. I’d say to employ my “lift test”. Take one of your friends and imagine you’ve both been stuck in a lift for an unforeseeable amount of time. Would you get bored with them? If you were frightened would they comfort you? If they were frightened would you know what to do in order to ease their suffering? So now I’m sat here now term is over after pre-Christmas dinner with the gals (that includes you too Ross) and I’m thinking could I apply this test to any of them? And do you know what? I have no question in my mind that they’d all pass with flying colours.

Everyone talks about how you find the friends that will your friends forever at university. Me being me was quite sceptical about this but I was proved wrong. I never thought I’d find such a great bunch of people when I was scrolling through the list of unis on UCAS and found the name of a not very well known institution. Each one of the people I’ve met is wonderful. They’re the kinds of friends who are there for you in the middle of the night when you’re stressed about an essay. They’re the kinds of friends who stroke your face and tell you need to moisturise your forehead then pour you another glass of wine. They’re the kinds of friends who will text you out of the blue and invite you to an art gallery. They’re the kinds of friends who are on the end of the phone when you need advice on what shoes to wear to a party. They’re there for you when you’re feeling homesick and are there to pick you up and cheer you up.

So guys, this is a big thank you to you. You’ve been wonderful and I’m really going to miss you over the holidays. You’ve made this year and a half at uni unbelievably amazing. I’m sat here with a tear in my eye at how lucky I am to have met such a beautiful group of people. It’s reassuring and comforting to be able to be myself around everyone and to be accepted for it. Merry Christmas to you all and I’ll see you in the New Year for an even better year and a half.  

Dealings With The Mafia Landlady: Part Two

Two English girls, two Germans, two French people and an Irish guy sit down to dinner. No this isn’t the start to some lewd joke; it is in fact the start to a story about our dinner chez the Mafia Landlady aka Madame B.

We’ve been living in the Ice Palace for around 4/5 months now but even so when the call came from our beloved landlady we were rather shocked to receive an invite for dinner at her house along with paying her our rent. We willing replied that we would love to have dinner with her and her creepy son. What student would pass up a free meal? The information that she left out of the equation until the day before the event was that we’d also be dining with our neighbours who live on the floor above us. Filling us with slight trepidation following our slight loud escapades we said it would be lovely to meet them. This shocked Madame B. How could we not have met the people who live above us? This was the chance to meet them.

So Tash and I left our flat characteristically early in order to go and find a suitable gift to take. I don’t think we could have found a bigger box of chocolates on the shelves of Monoprix that they one we found. At least if the meal wasn’t very good then we’d have some lovely chocolates to fill ourselves up on at the end of the meal! Due to our earliness we had a lovely wander around the area – I think turning up to what could be one the most awkward evenings of our lives wasn’t top on our agendas. We finally decided it was time to walk up those stairs and face the soirée.

Greeted by Madame B and her weird son we were directed to sit down in her bedroom of all places then handed a glass of Champagne. The signals for a weird evening were all there. After some rather awkward conversation of what our parents do for a living the other guests for the evening turned up.  We were all introduced to each other with some stilted conversation and the random outbursts of Madame B’s son asking very strange questions indeed. This was all accompanied with a piece of bread covered in a mysterious paste. I could see Tash looking at me with caution out of the corner of my eye. The one thing I really didn’t want to have at this dinner would be seafood or salmon and the look of this spread had a distinct fishy smell. After one bite I knew it was the dreaded prawn mousse. I managed to scoff it down in between gulps of Champagne without too much trouble. Again I repeat my joy at a free meal, but hopefully this would be the last seafood of the night.

Unfortunately my hopes and dreams were dashed when the platter of prawns in their shells, salmon and boiled egg was brought out. Even worse Tash and I had been split up and had Creepy Son sat in between us. After some tentative looking around the table to see when it was appropriate to start deconstructing the meal, conversation started to flow about how my Irish neighbour was looking into Hepatitis C as part of his Masters. Such classic dinner party conversation instigated from my landlady there. Meanwhile the German vegetarian neighbour was sat quietly eating his lone avocado as he wasn’t eating any of the fish, I think this was a step up after being handed a packet of raisins during reception drinks. His luck didn’t continue though. As we all had scallops with a lovely bit of very plain pasta, he just had plain pasta.

Conversation obviously turned to the weather and if it was going to snow at all in Paris which prompted German female neighbour to talk about skiing giving Creepy Son an excuse to yet again top up my wine glass. Finally dessert was upon us, a delicious homemade chocolate orange cake from Madame B in addition the gigantic box of chocolates we had taken with us. After some ridiculing of the British students and our seemingly small time spent in university in comparison with the Masters students we made our excuses and all left together happy in the knowledge that we didn’t have to all try to speak strained French in an even more awkward situation.

Luckily I now know the people I have to go and complain to when they wake me up in the middle of the night when they start to hoover. It has also been quite strange how before this encounter at Madame B’s we had never seen them but now we are always bumping into them in the corridor. Apparently we shall all be having a soirée after Christmas so that we can get to know each other more, so I must say to look out for more detailed accounts of what goes on at the Ice Palace.

If You Don’t Throw The Ball, It Won’t Hit The Coconut

Now, the title for this particular post came from a strange place indeed. I had finished writing one of my essays – incidentally one I had been especially stressed about – so decided to mark the end of this feat of endurance by watching something on the Wonder of the World, BBC iPlayer. The choice was difficult. I had already watched Graham Norton and Have I Got News For You so alas my fail safe cheer-up shows were not on the cards for this special moment. My decision, after much thought, was to watch World’s Greatest Food Markets. A lesser known programme, but I triumph from that bastion of entertainment, the BBC. If you haven’t seen this programme then you really need to sort yourself. The premise is basically that the show give this ‘geezer’ who is a fish-seller at Billingsgate market some money and he has to make a profit in different markets around the world. The first programme was in New York, where he tries to sell the Americans jellied eels but mostly ends up eating his profits. Despite my evident love for this television show it isn’t in fact the main subject of the post but it is important to reference the quote (yes I have been doing too many essays – I have referencing on the brain). What I really loved about the programme was his optimism. It’s the philosophy of just having a go and trying something that I really admired in him, as well as his use of the phrase “If You Don’t Throw The Ball, It Won’t Hit The Coconut”…

This got me thinking about something else I had watched. This time on the magnificent site that in Youtube. Not only am I obsessed with James Bond but I do have a rather strange addiction to Masterchef. One very bored evening brought me to watching clips of the American version of the show. The US is the set of nations in the world with the greatest sense of optimism in each and every one of them. This was shown in one contestant on series 3 of Masterchef USA. I watched the audition of Christine Ha with amazement. As she walked into the judging chamber she was accompanied by her husband who was guiding her way to the work surface in the middle of the room because she is blind. Yes, you read that correctly. She’s blind. Now Masterchef has never had a contestant who is blind before. It seems very unlikely that she could be any good at cooking if she couldn’t see what she was doing. If you thought that then you would be 100% wrong. She didn’t let her disability stop her from doing what she was really good at. In fact from the extensive research I did into the Masterchef archives available on Youtube she was the best contestant on the show by far. Her sashimi was amazing. The skill in sashimi is the cutting of the fish which she did perfectly despite not being able to see what she was doing. It really put the rest of the contestants to shame.

Watching all of this got me thinking. You really have to try something so that you know whether you can do it or not. I thought back to myself probably about 2 years ago now when I was sending off my UCAS application and made the decision to apply to come to university in Paris. At that point I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought it would be fine in my sweet naivety. I hadn’t even visited my university when I thought to myself that actually Paris was the place I wanted to be. I just had to try living in a different country to know whether I could do it. Sometimes I still don’t think I can do it, whether it’s coping with deadlines or going to the supermarket and trying to work out what half the items on the shelves actually are. But I’m glad that I’m here and doing it. A sense of adventure as well as trial and error are what make you the person you become after the most formative years of your life – the first time you move away from home.

What I’m saying is just go for it, whether you are a fish seller in New York, a contestant on Masterchef or a 19 year-old trying to work out what to do with their life have a go and just try it. You never know. It might just work out for the better.

Desert Island Discs

It has been hard to pin down the inspiration for this post. Is it my love since a relatively young age of one of Radio Four’s greatest programmes? Or is it my love of musically themed lists due to an obsession with the book and film High Fidelity? Anyway whatever reason for the satisfaction I derive from whittling down my favourite songs/albums/films from a huge number to just five happens to be one of my most favoured methods of day-dreaming.

I feel like I day dream a lot. Particularly on the metro. You might be able to tell that most of my blog posts are either dreamt up on a train or on a plane, especially when I’m staring out of the window when we’re in either a tunnel or in the case of flying a humongous cloud. This particular idea sprung to mind as I had had a dream following an intensive session of trawling through the Radio Four archives trying to find Ian Fleming’s Interview on Desert Island Discs – an endeavour which I succeeded in completing you shall be glad to know. I wondered what songs I would choose if I ever was called up by Kirsty Young to come and be on the show to tell her all about my life story. I’m sure it won’t be long until I get the call…..

So in the meantime I may as well let the internet know what songs I would pick if I were ever to go on the show. They are as follows:

1)      We Love The North – The Lancashire Hotpots

Now this is not a well-known number but a truly glorious one. I love a bit of novelty pop and this is top of the genre. Who can’t love a band with songs like Chippy Tea and The Perfect Pint? I first discovered this northern group at the wondrous festival Kendal Calling a few years back but they never fail to cheer me up on homesick days. When the Parisian metro is getting you down how can you not want to listen to a song about Poundland or Kebabs?

2)      In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning – Jamie Cullum

I first truly fell in love with this song when I had to wake up really early to go and catch a flight to go back to dear old Blighty. There is something really different about those early hours in the morning and it depends on whether you have stayed up for them or have to wake up for them. Leaving a club at 4am is quite far removed from sitting on the RER at 6am on your way to the airport! But for either moment I’ve found that this song just makes it that bit more serene and peaceful

3)      Tears Dry On Their Own – Amy Winehouse

When you’re getting bogged down in essays or work or French bureaucracy (all of which have been a right pain for me at some point or another) there is nothing like a proper pick you up song. That’s what this song is for me. I had a week in the summer (commonly known in the family as Misery Week) just before I moved into my current flat. I had no internet. I was missing my family terribly. It wasn’t a pretty sight. But after a phone call home, the arrival of my partner in crime and this song on repeat for at least an hour a day mixed with a chai latte sorted me out.

4)      Skyfall – Adele

Now those who know me well will know that I have a slight obsession with James Bond. Therefore this list wouldn’t be complete without at least one theme song from the world’s greatest film franchise now would it? I’d argue that Bond is the greatest for escapism but I might just be a biased fan. Skyfall isn’t just a Bond theme song though you can actually listen to it as a normal song well I can anyway. It just so happens to feature on my playlist for the shower for those moments when I think I can actually sing so end up belting out the words (apologies to my flatmates for that annoying quirk or mine).

5)      Red Lights Indicate Doors Are Secured –Arctic Monkeys

Now this wouldn’t be a list of songs chosen by someone born in the mid-90s if there wasn’t a song from Arctic Monkeys on there now would it? No, it wouldn’t. That is what you were thinking too, right? Good. There is something just really funny about this particular song. I tried to find a quiz on Buzzfeed (to no avail sadly) to find out what my favourite AM song actually was but decided on this one as I really connect with it at this moment in my life. It tackles those tricky conversations with taxi drivers and the heightened emotions everyone feels at the end of a good night out which could either make it unforgettable or ruin it for everyone. It is perhaps a little cheerier than some of my other choices but nevertheless shows the same kind of wonderful song writing – a skill which I will always be jealous of.

The next task for me was even more difficult. Choosing a luxury and a book. Luckily I don’t have to worry about not having read the complete works of Shakespeare before this point as I will have plenty of time to do that on the island. I think I would choose Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert as my book (I know not a James Bond! But I do know them off by heart…) because without sounding really cheesy it did change my life. I don’t have a very long attention span but this book left me captivated and reminded me that doing what you want for yourself and no one else is sometimes the only way you can be truly happy. My luxury would probably have to be either my electric heater that has changed my life around since living in the Ice Palace or if I have no electricity I might steal the wood-burning stove from home (sorry Mum!) so that I can keep nice and warm in the cold evenings on my island. I am known for my love of all things snuggy and ridiculously hot.  

Thank goodness I have sorted all of that as now I can be superbly ready for when I get the call from the BBC. Hopefully I can stop day-dreaming about interviews I might never have in the near future and get out and do some more things in Paris but so far essays and work have been my focus, well when I say focus I mean devoting all my time too them and not at all thinking up blog ideas in my nutritious snack breaks. Right now where are those biscuits…….