I present two situations of surreality:
December 24th: Christmas Eve. In a black dress, heels, in a huge, beautiful Parisian apartment in the 16th arrondissement, surrounded by fifteen excitable French people, for the most part all much older than me and dressed to the nines, talking loudly and quickly, as families do when they're together. Eating foie gras, oysters, shrimp, cuchon au lait, potatoes, bûches du noël, chocolate, and endless glasses of champagne. Everything decorated white, the tree, a huge mound of presents underneath . At the beginning of the evening, I knew exactly two people. By the end, everyone kissed me on the cheeks to say goodbye, said they hoped to see me soon.
This was my Christmas Eve, and it was surreal because it just seemed so far away from anything I've ever done before. The first Christmas away from home, in someone else's home, but not only that, in Paris. It struck me as somehow remarkably significant, to be celebrating like this.I stumbled home at 3 in the morning that night, drunk off champagne, and collapsed into bed -- only to wake up the next morning and, three hours later, restart the whole process with my host mom and her family.
The second moment of surreality:
December 31st, or really January 1st if you want to get technical. Another apartment in the 16th. Low lights. Young people this time, though equally unknown. My sister as well, by my side. We'd just noticed it was midnight.
"Bonne année!!" everyone yelled, turning to everyone else and kissing them on both cheeks, unless they were a couple and then on the mouth. Everyone hugging, music pounding in the background, to which we spent the next two hours dancing too. Wearing heels, of course, and something fashionable. Chatting with a new friend, who was trying to speak English for Darcy's benefit.
It was another moment, that I looked around and thought, wow, is this really my life? I thought, this is the first time I'm celebrating the New Year's in Paris. I thought, my year is starting in Paris. I loved thinking it, and had the strange feeling that though it was the first, it won't be the last.
For the past week, my sister has been in town, and it's been a ton of fun. We go out every day and see something new -- some things I've been to already, but also some new things. We went to the Musée d'Orsay, for example, which was really fun, and the displays at Printemps and Galeries Lafayette, the Ferris Wheel at the Place de la Concorde. We went back to Montmartre today -- I love Montmartre. I wish it was closer to me. Went up the Tour Montparnasse because everyone and their brother was at the Eiffel Tower. We also went to the Musée de Quai Branly and found one of the best exhibits I have ever seen in any museum.
It was called "La Fabrique des Images" and was essentially using archeological objects - like masks, tribal statues -- and art -- paintings, sculptures -- to present four different world views of the interaction between man and nature, specifically animals. The world views themselves were incredibly interesting, but what I loved about the exhibit was that it forced you to think. We started going through it without really thinking -- we were both exhausted - but about halfway through I cottoned on to the fact that there was more to it besides the objects, and we restarted and paid attention this time. Most exhibits -- in fact, all of them -- present something and just require that you look at it and go, oh hey, cool. They show something. This one synthesized. It had a connection. It had relevance. It didn't just present something, it was an intellectual exercise. It was incredibly well put together, and if you are around and have time to go there, do.
I've spent the past two weeks pretty much eating straight through. We had a super good dinner on Thursday night, where for 33 euros you got an aperitif, entrée, plat, cheese, dessert, and a café. Oh yeah, and a half bottle of wine apiece. It was really good, too, and was made more amusing by the fact that the waiter and the two elderly gentlemen on either side of us were all flirting with me at some point in the evening. The waiter was at least quite charming about it -- he asked if all the girls in New York (he had previously asked me where I was from) were as pretty as me.
Tomorrow Darcy leaves at the crack of dawn and everything goes back to normal. I start teaching again, and my choreography workshop restarts. I'll probably start dancing again as well, so there you go. I need to start eating better and cheaper as well, because I have spent SO MUCH money on food this past week. It's been really nice to have Darcy here, though I can't deny I will enjoy having my room back to myself, and though it's kind of silly, I'm also looking forward to conducting all my daily business in French again. She doesn't speak French, so I've been mostly talking in English, and I miss my French!!
It's also just been really interesting to hear her questions -- she has never been to Paris before, and so she often asks things or make observations that I realize are normal for an American -- but it's been four months since I was in America, and they occasionally seem bizarre to me. I think today was the most telling -- we were in Montmartre. I had just gotten some cash from the ATM and was looking for a café. "Why don't we go up to that coffee to go place I saw up there?" she asked, and I looked at her like she had sprouted an extra head.
"What would be the point?"
She's remarked a couple times there doesn't seem to be the concept of coffee to go, and when she asked that, I realized that I have completely bought into that idea. In New York, all the time, I bought a coffee and walked off with it, going to the next place, the next class. And now -- I honestly do not see the point. It seems so random. If you are going to get a coffee, you have to sit down in a café and drink it. Coffee to go is utterly absurd. I mean, I know the point is to wake up, technically, but still.
She also pointed to the boulangerie and asked if they might sell coffee in there, and the idea seemed absurd again to me. No, I said, the boulangerie sells baked goods and pastries, and that's it. The idea of the "coffee shop" with pastries and coffee drinks just doesn't compute anymore. It is extremely interesting to note how I think about things these days!!!
And so life goes on. 2010 is over: it was probably one of the most intense years of growth I have ever had. I had everything to gain and I did --- then I had everything to lose, and I did. I got lost, found, and love more fiercely than I ever have. 2011 has begun, the first year of my life in which my only goal has been to not make plans. I can tell you what is most likely to happen, but I refuse to set anything in stone, or even think about it. My life has been reduced to a few basic truths: I love where I am. I dance. I live. As far as anything else, tomorrow, next week, next month, I have no idea.
Bisous à tous, bonne année à vous!!!
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