Mental Exercises: French-Style

Yesterday (Sunday), after a pseudo-confusing scheduled time for lunch, I made my way downstairs to have lunch with Trevor, our host family, and two of their friends. There were three extra kids in the house, but it still somewhat felt like there weren’t any kids around. In any event, I got to the apartment around 12h30, and didn’t leave until about 17h10. The entire time, they were speaking to each other in what seemed like sped-up Parisian French, a speed that I rather enjoy, but it was quite difficult to keep track of the quick subject changes and oftentimes dual conversations (if not somehow more) going on at one time. Towards the end, Trevor and I somehow got slipped into the conversation but fell back out again. One of my favourite exercises, however, was trying to explain South Africa’s « Coloured » identity in French. I hope they understood me. Aside from the speaking exercises, the food somehow became a mental exercise for me, as well. By far, this was perhaps the French-iest of food experiences I’ve had while in Paris.

We started with ponche as an apéritif (which, by the way, felt like it was attacking the sick germs in my throat). We then moved on to foie gras (i.e., duck liver), with toasted bread and salad. As the main course, we had what I can closely describe as fettucine bolognaise. We carried on with a cheese plate which included comté (my favourite of the four), rocquefort, camembert, and a cheese that I can’t still seem to remember the name of (though it does have a signature line of blue within any given triangular slice). For dessert, we ended with a blackberry tart. Whew, I’m kind of hungry again.

After a small break from our nearly entire afternoon lunch, Trevor and I left to go to 18h30 Mass at Notre Dame. The cathedral is beautiful, big, and rather overwhelming. The service was rather traditional (including some responses sung in Latin), included a children’s choir, and was televised live on a Catholic television station. If something wasn’t said in Latin, it definitely was said in French. Outside of a few responses here and there, as well as the Our Father, I still found myself a bit lost (though the bulletin did have an English translation of the readings); I’ll definitely have to go back there.

All week, Trevor had been planning to go back to Sunset Sunside but before going there, we had dinner at a small café (even though we were both still rather full from lunch). After dinner, I concluded that I still wasn’t feeling all too well and made my way back home, ending my night with homework and a call from home.

Ooh, gotta get going to my interview!

Let's Play Catch-Up! (Part III)

To continue with the brief points of the day, our first weekend flew by and was definitely action-packed:

SATURDAY
Only two things were listed on our schedule: a voyage to an assigned part of Paris and a comedy show. My group was assigned Le Marais. It’s a pretty eclectic part of this wonderful city, marked in general terms as the home to gay, Chinese, and Jewish communities. We finished our self-guided tour of the area and, having finished early, we took a break from the cold and found a café in close proximity to the comedy site. En route to the meeting site, we came across two demonstrations in the streets. At the Comédie République, we saw a comédie française about the cross-cultural clash and rent between a French Catholic woman and a French Muslim man. It was completely in French and after a long time walking around Paris in the cold, it was a bit difficult to pay attention or to just even understand the play completely. Afterwards, Trevor and I had our first prepared meal that ended up only being a pseudo-dinner (which consisted of a baguette, some cheese (of which Trevor found emmental to be his new favourite), and red wine), as a result of a rendez-vous with Gerald, Jill, and Sam. With little difficulty, Trevor and I made it to our meeting place with them; Jill spoke with a woman at a jazz club (Chez Papa), who told us to come back later that evening, as they were still serving dinner. Having about 2,5 hours to get through before we could get back to Chez Papa, the five of us were basically lassoed into a restaurant. After eating another croque monsieur, alongside my carafe of water, I ended the dinner with a very rich and dark chocolate mousse. As I ate it, I had to keep pushing myself to finish it and eventually triumphed. It was that chocolate-y. Following dinner, we returned to Chez Papa, with Trevor being extremely giddy, particularly through the first part of our stay there. Gerald, Jill, and Sam got a bottle of rosé, while Trevor and I had a 2005 red of some kind, alongside a cheese plate and baguette. The music was amazing and Trevor and I especially were enthralled by "the guy with the dreads." During the break, our waiter moved us closer to the jazz trio and we ended our stay there perfectly satisfied with the evening. As I type, Trevor is still looking for his perfect jazz trio of stand-up bass, drums, and clarinet.

SUNDAY
I joined Christine and Elisabeth in their walk over to the church for Mass. The church pamphlets list the names of two saints, but I think the chapel we had the service in was devoted to Saint Thérèse of the Infant Jesus. Christine dropped of Elisabeth with the other Sunday school children in another part of the church, and soon joined me. I couldn’t quite understand all of the scripture readings, but was able to get through most of the priest’s homily with little difficulty. I was able to pray the Notre Père with everyone, but soon realised that I haven’t committed the Creed to memory just yet. Afterwards, Trevor and I ate dinner with Antoine, Christine, Elisabeth and Stanislas. Christine told us that she was up until about 3 or 4am preparing our lunch. She made pintade, a cooked guinea fowl in an amazing sauce, as well as a galette de rois. Literally, a galette de rois would be translated as a kings’ cake. On the Epiphany (La Fête des Rois which, this year, was on the 7th of January), a little bean (la fève, usually in the shape of a shepherd) is cooked within the cake. The cooked version is then cut into slices and (usually) the youngest child goes under the table and randomly calls out people’s names to whom a slice of the cake is delivered. Whomever has the fève is crowned king or queen. As Christine made the cake, she said that she put two fèves inside. Stanislas got the first one, while I got the second. Stanislas chose Elisabeth as his queen and, as I couldn’t possibly let Trevor escape from the experience, made him court jester (though, I don’t know if I ever told him that) and said he had to wear a crown, too. At the end of the meal, Elisabeth gave me a drawing for her skiing in the mountains.

Then, I FINALLY got to see my host family from Noisy-le-Roi! Just on time, Marie-Léone and Paul drove up in front of the building; for some reason or another, I didn’t quite seem to recognise them at first, but as soon as I got in the car with them, it was as if I had never really left (one difference being that Paul’s voice has definitely gotten deeper). At the house, I gave them some gifts from the States (Marie-Léone loved the Target bags), and soon found out that Paul received a Mac and basically converted the rest of the family to it. (Errghh…) It’s quite brilliant, though, for the work he does with music. After I pretty much had enough of Paul’s showing off of what his computer can do, we went downstairs and had some wonderful hot chocolate. I took mine with some baguette, just as I had done about two and a half years ago in that very kitchen. Wow, time certainly has flown by! Following this wonderful return to memory lane, Marie-Léone brought me to a few of the host families that hosted students when my seminar class stayed in Noisy-le-Roi. To my pleasant surprise, they all remembered me, especially my faux hawk. For some reason or another, they speak much quicker French there than in Paris; yet, I understood them a bit more easily and was quite able to carry on a conversation with them. Following a couple exchanges (of which Marie-Léone pointed out that telling the same stories, particularly of my time in South Africa, was giving me good practice), we returned back to the house where I had dinner with Marie-Léone, Paul and France (who has also grown up since I last saw her). It was then time to leave and after being reminded and encouraged to come back to visit for a longer period of time, made my way back to Paris. En route to the building, I got a text from Trevor saying that he was at yet another jazz club. I soon made my way to a jazz club called Sunrise Sunside. It was a bit more cramped than Chez Papa, but it definitely felt more like a jazz club. Apparently, Trevor, Jill, and Sam had been there all day, and were back for the jam session. People from the audience joined in and people swapped places every now and again. It was rather hectic but great to see how everyone gelled together once they started playing.