so i'm behind. obvi.

so basically. i am so behind on blogging. i know. l'oops.

i also decided that to make myself feel less bad about catching up. i will choose not to focus on chronological order.

for anyone who cares. posts including my parents came first. they came the week after abby. followed by a week of jared. followed by a week on my own. and now we are here. HI.

one. the reason i am most likely choosing to blog now, is because i have a paper due. joy.

lets start with the parental units coming to paris. they arrived on wednesday morning, i went to class all day, boo, and met them for dinner. my mom, along with every tourist in paris, had her rick steves guidebook under arm. as well as 25 walks in paris. interesting point. she had recently purchased an new uber chic (czech out the multilingualism) bag. it was cross body. and teeny. ie did not hold ANY books. ie we left them numerous places. but got them all back.

while the p-unit was stationed in paris i stayed with them. duh. and we took two day trips. and i attended almost all my classes. woo. i know. so impressive.

day trip numero uno was to reims. champagne. YUM. we went on a tour of a little champagne cellar and of course tried some of their champagne. then of course my mom bought something for EVERYONE and their mom. duh. memories. we walked around the small town, guided of course, by rick steves. ate lunch, explored the ville. and trained it back to paris that night.

the next day we woke up at the CRACK of dawn. kind of. to catch our 8:01 train to bruges? brugges? whatever. the place where colin farrell did that movie "in _________". we walked all around. rick steves informed us they were famous for chocolate. then told us which ones were the best chocolate makers. i would like to know how i get that job upon graduation. "go to this city, and test all the chocolate shops, then tell us which are the top 5". we went to a microbrewery. we saw the windmills. the trip was a success.

side note: reims is in france, while brug(g)es is in belgium. i have traveled on the train between european countries several times and never needed my passport, always had it. they never check. if its within the EU i guess its lax. however. as i stated before (scroll up) i was staying avec mes parents. and i had left my passport at my house. wah. letmetellyou. where we decided to stay, and where i live. SO FAR AWAY. so night after we get back from reims i sprint home. legit. attempt to catch rer. too slow. sprint back to regular metro. meet parents like 1 hour and 45 mins later with passport. ooph.

i just keep thinking, why did i bother, they wont check. we get to belgium. passport never checked. spend whole day there. come back. halfway through train home our tickets are checked. no problemo. hold. "i need to see hayley sharfin's passport". both my parents had theirs with them in the room, it was not issue for them to bring theirs. i had to run back to get mine. MINE WAS THE ONLY ONE CHECKED. can you imagine. my name was on all the tickets cause i bought them. so they needed to see... only mine? once again i don't ask questions anymore. but like. TG i went and got it. for real.

my mom had clearly done research for her trip to paris. even though my parents had been to paris numerous times, there were always things to explore and see. and duh. rick steves was ready and willing to point them out. one was rue cler. a small street near my school that APPARENTLY is the epitome of paris (quote rick steves). who knew. and this cafe, cafe du marche, is the epicenter of rue cler. who knew. definitely not me amelia and hannah. who eat there... 3 times a week. interesting. so we went there, and my parents experienced a "true parisian street".

in addition, my mom had found a restaurant called le hide. we kept pronouncing it le heed. turns out its le hide. interesting. haha. we made a reservation at this small teeny restaurant, and here my parents met dana. please note my parents liked the place so much we went back their last night. and pretty much every email/phone call from my mom proceeded to conclude with: you and jared should go there.

regardless. it was super good. and a super good deal. and the staff was very nice. so yes. i recommend it to anyone. and yes. you need reservations.

the night we went with dana, dana and my dad ordered identically. the waitress informed us she was studying abroad in canada. in ottawa. for those you that don't know. my dad works in ottawa. cue my mom. listing of tons of things this french girl should do in ottawa. one. her first language is french. so she is probably catching half of this. two. she has no pen and paper. but its the thought that counts. she then informed us she didn't like cold. i then was confused as to why she chose ottawa. interesting.

regardless. dinner is going well. everyone is getting along. wine is good. food is good. company is good. we're chillin'. conversing with table next to us. chillin'. something smells like burn. i sniffle. comment. sniffle. that's so strange. it really smells like burn. i do a quick look around. the couple behind us has left. and one of them has effortlessly tossed their napkin on the table. onto the tea-light candle. it is now burning. AH.

i get up. i smother it. ish. it is mostly just blackened and smoking. AH. my dad jumps up to tell the man behind the bar. and french comes out.

like what. YOU ORDERED IN ENGLISH. your first language is english. in times of emergency you are to use your first language. but he does it. the bartender responds "oh, i understand" and that is that. a few minutes later, he clears the charred napkin. no rush. its all good. people, this is france. we are chill here. near fires are just that. near. no need to react.

in.ter.est.ing.

reunited and it feels so good.

first of all. abby visited my home in paris before she visited my home in lexington. just wanted to put that out there.

so if you don't know, it is extremely rare that a homestay lets you have guests over, and if they do, you're lucky. because my homestay is very laid back... no meals prepared, i basically rent a room from carmen, i assumed it would be okay.

i asked weeks in advance. tuesday before i left i bought carmen macaroons from laduree just to show my appreciation for her agreeing to let abby stay. and on saturday evening we arrived to my lovely home. carmen greeted us, met abby, and everything went supah well.

as we prepared to go out for the night, i took my comforter off the bed and used it as a mattress for myself on the floor, putting my pillow on top with a fitted sheet as a cover. it wasn't the ritz, but it worked. i gave abby my other blanket to use on the regular bed and the additional pillow. and we headed out.

we were meeting dana's friend from GW (nicole) and nicole's friend for dinner. and later michal would join us to go out. we were a little crew.

we found a bistro near school, convenient for everyone to see the eiffel tower at night. we met nicole at the metro stop, walked to the tower, took pics, and found the dinner spot.

nicole's friend was no where to be found. 30 mins later dana gets a call. she is on some street we have never heard of. standing between the tower and the river. we direct her. 20 minutes and michal shows up. still no sign of jess. interesting. FINALLY jess gets there. we are paying the bill. we have finished our wine. and she is panting. l'oops.

we talk for a bit before heading out. we discuss our trip to london, when we stayed at michal's. i mention how NO ONE told us about the different plugs. we laugh. jess looks worried.

"no one told me about the plugs... I AM GOING TO LONDON TOMORROW." wow. talk about bad luck. we pause. and burst into laughter. whatyagonnado.

we head to the metro. as we are walking the eiffel tower begins to sparkle. abby and nicole gasp. jess sighs "that is the fourth time i have seen that tonight" jess has been using a quarter of a map, and guessing where the streets go to navigate her way around. the tower sparkles once on the hour, i believe.

we hop on the metro and figure we will bring our friends to cafe oz, its safe and an easy crowd pleaser. while waiting in line we meet some british folk who we agree to help get in. i go with jess to get her a crepe so she has something in her stomach. and eventually we get in.

the british boys separate. one is fluent in french and studying at the sorbonne, the others are visiting. one will NOT leave abbs alone. like take a hint bro. he keeps calling her julie. we are not sure how that happened. he pays her admission. buys her drinks. like. cool it bucko.

we buy drinks, dance on tables, sing loudly, buy drinks. the usual.

as i go to buy me jess and abbs another round of drinks the bouncer pushes through the crowd. all of a sudden we cannot breathe. we are hacking and coughing. no words are exchanged but people are following him out. we do the same.

we get outside. its hectic. and french. i have no idea whats going on. all i can think is this is how people died in rhode island. we are getting pushed, and attempting to clear the doorway but nicole gets shoved. she hits the girl in front of her. FML.

the girl turns around. shouts, and shoves nicole hard and on PURPOSE. nicole loses it and shoves her back, screaming that she didn't push her. cue fight #1. first in shock, then reality kicks in. we pull nicole away and push her to the side, where we find a quieter place to stand. the british sorbonne boy joins us. he explains there was a gas leak. COOL.

michal lights a ciggy. thanks michal. gas leak. you light a cigarette. good thinking.

we stand around. unsure of what to do next. abby looks up, "aren't those the girls from before?" OY. yes they are. and they are coming our way. bleh.

they start running their trashy mouths in french. "we dont speak french" nicole states. "GOOD. we speak english..." oh great. yaddda yadda. trash trash. yadda. BAM.

fists are in the air. WTF. ughh. get nicole OUT OF HERE. we great a wall and push nicole towards the street we are just going to catch the bus home. abby's flat falls off as we walk. she backtracks to grab it. FIGHT NUMBER TWO.

all of a sudden abby cannot stand up. a feisty little trashy french girl has grabbed her hair and is pulling. um NO. i grab abby's hair too (not the best move, l'oops) and shout "THAT'S HERS" (not the best fighting words). i am grabbing abby's hair back, trying to push the girl away. jess see's what is happening and begins kicking the girl. GO AWAY. finally a man separates us all and we sprint to the bus.

once on board we are loud americans. l'oops. we recall the night. cannot believe what just happened. and head home. i am bbm'ing and whatsapp'ing up a storm. nothing is coherent. i am starting convos and not finishing them. i call my mom. i tell her everything. it is just too ridic. finally we get home.

we enter the house. we get quiet. we proceed upstairs. there. on my floor. carmen has made up a real bed. with a real mattress.

what more could i ask for?

amsterdam.

one, this is becoming a trend. but i am SO sorry. to my loyal following of .5.

two. AMSTERDAM.

so years ago, on march 17th. i departed from my lovely maison around 6:45 am to head to gare du nord and hope a THALYS train to amsterdam to meet abby. yayayayaya.

i got up, did not sleep a bit, headed to gare du nord. got there over an hour early. over zealous? chilled. on a bench. in the cold open air train station. waiting.

tick tick tick tick tick. the old school departure board. tick tick tick. changing every few minutes. i repeat. over an hour.

tick tick tick tick. FINALLY. my train. i head to the gate and board the train, and so the usual shenanigans begin. cue couple not speaking english. awkard look at tickets, look at seat, look at tickets, look at other seat. i know the maneuver. puh-lease. let me guess. you two THINK you booked your tickets side by side. you are seats 35 and 36, but it turns out 36 and 37 are adjacent. i am seat 37. interesting predicament. two can play this game muchacho. i read my book. reading. reading. CAVE. i can't. i feel too bad. i get up. gesture to my seat.... he speaks!

"ah, thank you so much".... come again? you speak english. and you wouldn't ask me. as i sat. reading my english book. oy. so i move. settle in my new seat. and pass out.

tap tap. mumbles in french, gestures to seat. no. no one is sitting there buddy. ALL YOU. i go back to sleep. tap tap. conductor needs my ticket. go back to sleep. an hour or so later i wake up. it is now a reasonable hour in europe and i have some emails and bbms awaiting. i begin to respond. i feel eyes on me. i turn. the business man who had asked me for my seat has his eyes GLUED on my bberry. glued.

i look up. smile. i know. so NOT french. whatever.

he is still looking. not blinking. finally. he speaks. "your hands so strong" he types harshly on a fake blackberry in the air. i laugh. unsure of how to respond. and continue. l'oops.

as the train nears amsterdam i get an email. from abby. her blackberry doesn't work. she has found a computer in baggage claim. will i be getting off at the airport or in central station.

i have no idea. announcements are in dutch, french, and english. the english is in an accent i can't quite grasp. and i know the final stop is central station but have no idea what the airport is called. FML.

we email back and forth. i try to get some information. not sure where to start. finally we figure out i can get off in the airport. i do. emails continue.

what gate are you. where will you be coming from. she cannot leave the computer to ask because she will lose contact with me. she can not walk out of baggage claim to check because there will be no other computer. predicament. i scramble to figure out where she is. finally we conclude she will exit via arrival gate 3. we decide to meet there.

final email: under no circumstances can you leave arrival gate 3 until you find me.

like duh abbs. i wait. i linger. i wait. every time the sliding doors open i perk up. nope. not abbs. FINALLY. she exits through the doors and we reunite love actually style.

we head to the center of town. find our hotel. drop bags off and embark on the beginning of what turns out to be the most junk food i have ever consumed in two days. no complaints. we walk the whole city without knowing it. up and down, weaving in and out of canals. we try french fries, waffles, anything they're selling.

over the weekend we see anne frank's house, museums, heineken factory, i am amsterdam. we see and walk it all. as we head to the train station on the last day i am run over by a bicycle. the woman assures me it was my fault. i am in complete shock, unable to speak aside from incessant apologies. abby is stunned. we catch an afternoon train back to paris. and the real fun begins...

spring time in paris.

so it is beginning to get warmer. and sunnier. and yay.

so this week marks my halfway point. gasp. i know.

for all you thinking what i am thinking... i know. i didn't think i'd make it either.

i know that this half will FLY by comparatively. AH.

on thursday i meet abby in amsterdam. saturday she comes back to paris with me. tuesday she leaves. wah.

wednesday the p-unit arrives. i stay with them a leur hotel for the week, they leave wednesday. wah.

cue saturday. i meet jared at CDG for o'sharfin eurotrip 2011. prague-vienna-paris. YAYAYAY.

sigh, he leaves on sunday. and then. it is april 11th. APRIL 11th. its already spring. i have already enrolled in courses for SENIOR YEAR. ely has already turned 21. SO MANY THINGS HAVE HAPPENED BY APRIL 11th.

with all that ahead. lets focus on the immediate past, shall we?

friday was a lazy day. and by lazy day i mean great. i did all the stuff i needed to do. read. did laundry. made study guide. watched a movie. yay.

saturday was slightly more interesting. the plan was to go to les puces with amelia and hannah. i text amelia when i get up to verify times and locations etc. change of plans. we are gonna meet at breakfast in america. YAYAYAY. the famous american diner in paris. i meet amelia at st. paul, the stop in le marais. we head over to the line. yes the line. that has formed down the block for this poppin spot. hannah calls. she is line. where are we.

we are in line.

hmmm. then it occurs to us there are two locations. l'oops. we ask for status on her line, it sounds shorter. we jump back on the metro. meet arielle at the stop. transfer. arrive at the OTHER breakfast in america. and by the time we arrive we are the next party. talkaboutconvenient.

NOT TO MENTION. this breakfast in america is located all of 20 feet away from the hotel i will be staying in with jared. yay.

we sit, the menu is everything we have hoped for and more. american diner food. egg whites. bottomless coffee. an obama milkshake (vanillla ice cream, peanut butter, chocolate sauce). sam adams is an option for beer. a signed friends poster adorns the wall. sigh.

we stuff ourselves, duh. and head to les puces, the flea market.

the flea market is the LAST STOP on the four. it is on the city periphery for sure. we arrive. it does not feel like paris. we walk. it is overwhelming. mike meets us. we wander. in and out of booths. antiques, beads, random clothes. wander wander. its misting but whatever. wander wander.

after some time we hop the metro back. i take a quick nap. and at 7:00 head over to meet dana and her parents for dinner near school.

dinner is amaze. so tasty. so cute. dana's parents are tres nice. its so nice to be around family.

after dinner i hop the bus. run run run. get ready. meet felicity and alex at the opera stop. we are heading to footsie, a stock exchange bar. amelia and hannah had mentioned they were going so why not mix crowds. we arrive. every 240 seconds the prices of drinks change based on demand. the music is good, loud, not a lot of dancing but the place is fun. amelia and hannah arrive. mike and sam arrive. rachel and a friend from home. we are a group. we stay for a bit, we sneakily aquire a table by surrounding and moving in. duh. what are groups good for. in a bit we head out and hop the metro yet again.

we head to the marais, felicity knows a bar there. we go in. i stay for a few, then find out amelia and mike have found a falafel place closing that GAVE them falafel balls. amelia agrees to help me look. mike joins.

everyone stays, the three of us head out. we stumble upon a hotdog place. order hotdogs, drinks, frites. my hotdog comes with onion strings and mayo-ketchup on it. gross. and obviously. i eat the fries. and the hotdog, leave bun onion mayo-ketchup. we make friends with the guy working there. he tells us he is a rapper. we ask him to rap. he does.

if you are thinking we have been here forever. we have. amelia and i cannot finish our fries. i get them to go. he lets us know he is performing tomorrow. we should come. kk. amelia takes the paper.

we head back.

people are ready to go. they love us. we brought fries.

we locate the nuit bus. obviously.

mike and amelia are on the same one.

me and hannah are on the same one.

parfait.

alex and fel hop the metro home and successfully make their transfer before it closes. clutch.

and there it is. one more night in paris. one of my sixty-something left. AH.

catacombs. i see dead people. then also cafe charlot.

thursday. catacomb day. woo.

thank you wikipedia:

The Catacombs of Paris or Catacombes de Paris are a famous underground ossuary in Paris, France. Located south of the former city gate, the "Barrière d'Enfer", at today's Place Denfert-Rochereau), the ossuary holds the remains of about 6 million people^[1] and fills a renovated section of caverns and tunnels that are the remains of Paris' stone mines. Opened in the late 18th century, the underground cemetery became a tourist attraction on a small scale from the early 19th century, and has been open to the public on a regular basis from 1867.

we arrive at the catacombs, no line. we head downstairs. long long spiral staircase. dark. keep walking. walk through all these tunnels every corner i keep stopping. slash baby-stepping. slash being terrified. so amelia agrees to lead the way. i have NO idea what to expect. i assume dead bodies will just be there. around the corner.

we walk. and walk. and walk. it slopes down. we go deeper and deeper underground. the ceilings get so low. and after what feels like ages. we are there. the entrance to the bones. we walk in. and at first i am in shock. so many bodies. they are all completely taken apart. walls have been created using large bones as bricks. with skulls dispersed throughout creating patterns and crosses. behind these walls of bones other bones are literally thrown. just piled up.

the catacombs were made a result of a common problem. there used to be a tendency to build cemeteries on hills. which lead to health issues with run-off and what not. cemeteries were dug up, and all the bodies were transported to the catacombs. the process was extremely long, and many body parts were lost. not that you'd be able to tell since all the bodies have been taken apart bone by bone.

the piles of bones go on forever. winding paths lead to sign after sign of different cemeteries. we take photos. touch the bones. water drips from the ceiling creating an eerie environment and fuzzy bones in some places.

we eventually exit through an endless and steep winding spiral staircase. we find ourselves in the 14th. we walk for a bit. and hop on a metro. head first to the first arrondissement then split to go home.

i shower (dead people), nap, and eventually get up to meet sophie greg fel and ben for dinner at cafe charlot in the fourth.

sophie greg felicity and i meet at the metro, ben has arrived at cafe charlot early (well, rather, he has arrived on time and we are late) and gotten a great round booth table. we arrive by 8:30, happy our ends at 9:00. parfait.

this place is know for its burgers. we order drinks. we order food. we enjoy the atmosphere. schmooze. the cafe is tres francais in decor. we then also notice it bares striking resemblance to the cafes of soho. haha.

we ultimately had burgers in soho. no big deal. we all split. ben is heading to barca in the am. i am l'tired. greg sophie and fel head to the social club for a DJ performance. concert? show? whatever a verb a DJ is associated with.

les halles. etc.

every wednesday for my glorious history of france through architecture class we field trip it up. occasionally we have a DOUBLE in class period. in which i die. 3 hrs of lectures on slides. monotone. dark. dead.

this wednesday je suis alle aux halles. is that right? if jared read my blog. he'd prob correct me. rude. like i KNOW you are basically fluent you butt, i'm trying. (not bitter over corrections sent over family email chain. not at all.) les halles is the historical market place of paris. like back in the day... all the food came in to les halles, and all the distributors bought it wholesale in les halles and then sold it to the people of paris from their stores/bodegas/carts/whatever.

interesting tid bit. it is pronounced LAY ALLS. not laysalls. like most words starting in vowels. just a tid bit. in this CASE. the s from the les does not carry over. yes i learned that in architecture class. yes the class is full of random tid bits. yes. its hard.

anyway. per usual. amelia and i meet by school then head over to the field trip destination to find lunch then meet at the destination. we wander around. find a cafe with seating in the sun. my salad comes with some home fries atop it. as well as a protein i cannot pronounce in french and have refused to look up. i am pretty sure i don't want to know what it is. i ate it. my new philosophy is if they eat i am fine. french people live for so long.

side note (promise its related): on saturday night i stayed in bed taking a personal day. catching up with bensinger. watching movies. reading. snoozing. personal day. at night dana decided it was probably healthy for me to remove the wooden panels from my windows. let light in. and get outside for dinner and fresh air. we headed over to indiana cafe, on circle over from our lovely pereire. i wanted a burger. they had them. so parfait. i order my burger. she asks how i want it done. i say medium well because i am in france. and raw is the norm. it comes. ALIVE. the burger was breathing. it was seared on the outside. the disguise of being cooked. but alive on the inside. note my new mentality above. if they do it i can. so i ate it. that was saturday. its friday. i'm alive. but you should probably all pray for me anyway. thanks in advance.

back to les halles. after lunch we head over to the church of st eustache to learn about architecture and history. duh. the class. duh.

we arrive. wanklyn. our professor. says he saw me and amelia. shouted to us. and we didnt answer. 2 hours ago. awk. we were getting lunch. more awk. we were mo def talking about him. his class is so hard WAH.

well you win some you lose some. after the church we head over to the fountain of the innocents. yes the innocents. like the cemetery of the innocents. have some culture people. as we are chilling. discussing how the fountain has been greatly modified. how one of the sides was carved by a different sculptor. how there used to be basically no water that came from it. yadda yadda. it becomes quite evident we are in the equivalent of what some may say the "paris hood". wanklyn alludes to a time when he was harassed while lecturing here and was forced to leave. he told us if this happens again our grades will reflect what we did to protect him. hi. yeah. i'll take that f. when in danger. run.

while sitting there the catacombs comes up. i say i wanna go. amelia said she tried to go, 2.5 hour wait. i say we should go tomorrow.

count it. plans made. tomorrow is catacomb day.

whoa. désolé.

so i'm sorry, i am so delayed. oopsies.

letmecatchyouup. so.

last weekend jess alyssa and flagg visited from prague. yaya. friday i was super tour guide. saturday not so much. and i apologize. but in the past. SEE YOU IN AMSTERDAM.

friday night, after our crazy amount of walking, sightseeing, and eating. duh. we hit up cafe oz. double duh. we made it a large affair. dana and i. greg sophie fel. jess, alyssa flagg. started at sophies, moved to cafe oz. somehow i ended up talking on a banana phone on the metro. and came home with some souvenir shot glasses. sorry cafe oz. the night was fun. dana and i have mastered the night bus home from cafe oz. all in all a solid night.

on our way out i happened to see my TA, ines. chillin. turns out she is a cool 21 year old girl TA, and she likes cafe oz too. not a huge deal, because i only see ines thursdays, so i didnt sweat it. walk into my oral exam on monday morning. madame thaib. ines. cool. hey. it happens.

oral exam over. architecture exam returned. eeps. and the week is cruising RIGHT ALONG.

tuesday night is mardi gras. yayaya.

greg and sophie find a bar in the republique area that is having a "new orleans style" mardi gras fête. (shout out to the internship.) we start at sophie's once again. the website informs us its free entry with costume. sophie and fel get ish done, buying feathers, masks, and colorful shoes. we get ready at sophies, head out around nine. and arrive at favela chic.

we get in free, duh, with our amazingggg costumes. dance. get drinks. dance. socialize. meet men from boston. and london. duh. dance dance. socialize. sophie and greg leave. fel and i hang outside. go back in. dance. HUNGRY.

favela chic is a bar slash restaurant slash whoknowswhat. we head over to "kitchen area" and ask for food. kitchen is closed. interesting.

this is quite the predicament.

felicity speaks french well, i am praying she can finagle this. no. no food. we keep asking. keep looking. finally she takes pity on us. hands us a plate of... bread balls. and white sauce. interesting.

we sit. they are cheesy bread balls. size of a swedish meatball. and the sauce is. i have no idea. in some crazy and glorious moment of clarity i take a lactaid pill. don't ask. but TG.

we're sitting. schmoozing with guys around us. fel asks for a bite of their chocolate cake. i am confused as to where my mask has gone. and still confused by the cheese bread ball things.

then the waiter comes. finally. no. wait. he is not offering us food. he is charging us. 23 euros. 23 euros for our plate of swedish-meatball-cheese-bread-balls. NO. LIKE no.

fel explains the woman gave them to us. he explains she didn't. we tell him to go ask. he goes to ask. we leave.

like judge me fine. but she GAVE THEM TO US OUT OF PITY PEOPLE. she was not like. here take these he will charge you in five. or here this will be 23 euros. or fine what would you like. she HANDED US PLATE OF MYSTERIOUS BREAD BALLS. and that was that. like sorry i'm not sorry. lost in translation?

by some great miracle, it is early enough to take the metro home. and the metro stop is on the 3. i separate from fel and alex (her roomie), take the metro home. turn on love actually. go to sleep. SO GOOD.

then wednesday class happened. up at nine. home at six. surprisingly successful.

yayay MARDI GRAS.

things i forgot slash life back in paris.

first, things i forgot.

CANDY. madrid, barcelona, and london. ALL ABOUT THE CANDY. like i am not sure how it was left out of every single post. but like. candy. everywhere. always. bad news. oye.

so back in paris. chillin. we got back sunday at 6. flight got in circa 3:30. after everything. and the RER. and whatever. we got in to our apt around 6.

i showered stat. got in bed. made dinner. got back in bed. awoke for my double period french. oy.

madame thaib has gotten nicer. we walk into french class and she informs us that in 5 minutes we will partir. that is. we will leave.

ITS FIELD TRIP TIME.

we hop the 62 bus. and one bus trip later arrive in saint germain. yaya. we go to chocolate place that made chocolate for the king. we go to the eugene delacroix museum. we go to le procope cafe, one of the oldest cafes in paris. and we sit down to lunch.

me and hannah bail. est tres expensive. we go to a little cafe, cafe BB that dana and i have been to and enjoy a super tasty cheaper lunch. tres bon.

after lunch, hannah has class, i have drawing hdubbs to do and an architecture exam to study for. i head to the louvre to go sketch a sculpture for homework. after that is done i google "louvre starbucks" and find a starbucks eight minutes away. judge me. whatever. shh.

i head there. crack open my architecture notes. strategically place my oh-so-american-venti-coffee on one side of the notebook. and proceed to plug in blackberry and reconnect. read some nytimes. bbm some people. hit up whatsapp. check my email. peep my notes. sip my coffee. chill.

i head home around 8. kind of having studied. definitely having gotten my caffeine fix. make dinner. study some more. catch up on greek. off to bed.

cue tuesday. wake up. french class. back to the grind. the room has been rearranged. its disorienting. i deal. i can now sit in the back. yay. its normal french class. questions are being asked. i am confused, but more with it than most kids in the class. i am attempting to study for architecture while not being completely tuned out. we get our french tests back. turns out i can write in french despite what my blog implies. we have to sign up for our oral exams on next monday.

"hayley, you are always early, can you be the first slot?"

oy. fine. i am the first slot. bad news i have to be there at the normal 10:35, i arrive around 10:15 each day. good news i get to leave at 10:45. and then i am FREE. yeeeeeee.

after french class comes drawing. we met at musee branly today, a 15 minute walk from school. it is polynesian art (i believe, don't quote me. google it). and it is architecturally really cool. filled with tons of tiny children. not sure why. we sketched totem poles and masks. it was a break from "studying" so i enjoyed. then it was off to my test.

i am the first to arrive. gasp. wanklyn comes next (professor). we chat about vacay. i am nonchalantly studying. more students enter. questions begin to fly. terms are being tossed around. all i can think of is that i pray there is a word bank i cannot spell ANY of these terms. oy.

test comes. no word bank. 10 multiple choice based on slides. 10 multiple choice written out. four answers under each question. there may be more than one right answer, circle all that apply. wrong answers will be penalized. that is 50 points. the next 50 points. a sketch of an interior wall of notre dame.

tell me what you see. use terminology from class. 50 points. oy.

finish THAT. skype the madre. head back to my new fave sbucks. grab my american sized coffee and read/bbm/do french homework for 1.5 hrs.

here is where i begin to analyze some things that have happened thus far in france.

one. soy chai latte. that is the same. exact same in french and english. like even with an accent. the EXACT SAME. why. all i want is coffee. plain coffee. and it is SO difficult. wah.

two. headphones. my mom has always told me not to wear my headphones while i commute. she is always like: you are gonna be hit by a car, someone is going to jump you, YOU CANNOT HEAR WHAT IS AROUND YOU. like i know. okay. its a risk i take. oye. however. i have had several headphone situations. HPS if you will.

first HPS: meeting dana at the musee louvre metro stop i get out. and helplessly wandering. ipod in. staring at map, walking to all corners of the plaza. wandering aimlessly. someone attacks me. slash someone pokes me. dana. i jump. freak. scream. oops. haha. headphones. oye.

second HPS: on metro. headed downstairs on route i always take. here the headphone saved me. HAHAH MOM. man starts hootin' and hollerin' chatting me up and what not. yes. i can hear him. no. he doesn't know that. so i listen. pretending i cannot hear. and ignore him. count it.

third HPS: this is indirect, but happened to a friend. she is riding the metro in barcelona. sitting there. chillin. looking all european and what not. cue douche-y american boy. sits directly in front of her. looks at her. once again. her headphones are in BUT SHE CAN HEAR SURROUNDINGS. his friend calls to him. in english. "hey man come here." "nah bro, i'm gonna sit here and watch the show." the show. gag. like ew. slash TG for headphones.

last analysis completed while sitting outside at sbucks. my free map of the arrondissements. like yes dana bought hers at monoprix. no. they are not really free and i should be happy. yes. i got mine for free the first week i was here from BNP so i shouldn't complain. HOWEVER. they gave it to me for free because they were sending poor american me to the MIDDLE OF NO WHERE to ask the bank for something they KNEW they would not do. so like. they had to give me something in return. they were basically just getting rid of me. the jury is still out on whether or not i am mad. but i have a map. so like. i am pretttttyy surree i won. right?

regardless. i am back. 11 more weeks of paris. let's go.

mind the gap.

'ello. we arrive in london via easy jet round deux. this time i know to check my luggage. whatever. haters. catching the airport shuttle from barca was an experience. but we make it with some minutes to spare. i grab a bag of crispy m and ms in the duty free shop. i am informed if i buy another 330 gram bag, i get a free mug. tempting. i have no room for the mug however.

in case you are wondering. slash doing a double take. yes. i did say crispy m and ms. no. the pretzel m and m has not made its way across the atlantic yet and you are able to purchase these vintage m and ms on the reg. i know. gasp.

we get to london. take a train similar to metro north into the city. michal (dana's friend from GW who now studies in london full-time meets us at the tube). wooo. the tube.

we ride the tube, buy our oyster (5 pound metro card that you can sell back and get your 5 pounds back. yeah i kept it. hi. memories). and we are offish in london.

michal lives in the equivalent of the BK in london. it was compared to williamsburg by some, however it is in the air whether we will call the neighborhood hipster. or ethnic. either way. it was great. shadwell stop on the DLR tube line. right near brick lane. right near a 24-hour walk through mcdonalds. so like. its all good.

we spend day one walking ALL over london. so fun, walk along the water, the london bridge, i snap photos of who knows what. we stop in like 80,000,000 boots. cause there is no such thing as CVS or Walgreens or Boots in france. so we are in heaven.

that night, michal has a promoter friend mo. we head to cielo for free three course dinner, then downstairs to the club Luxx where a table has been purchased for mo. we enjoy. the club is ultimately a catwalk. we catch the night-bus back. hit up mcdonalds. and call it a night.

friday we head to fashion week-end at the somerset house. lauren meets us there, she is also in london. designers from fashion week are selling clothes, accessories, shoes all at a discount. it is mostly cool to walk around. no major purchases but lots of looking.

we head to oxford crossing to hit up the flagship topshop. that takes hours within itself. i end up purchasing something from what i think is topshop but is actually a boutique inside. whatever. and walk all around oxford crossing. find a burger place for lunch. michal meets us. we walk more throughout the area and head home.

en route home we purchase 3 for 12 pounds white wine and head back to make some baked ziti.

i would like to take this time to note that while london is on the pound, rather than the euro. no one informed me that they had different outlets. and were an hour behind. like what. for real. whatever. we made it work. oy.

after dinner we head out to a house party of one of michal's friends. just our luck. it is majority french people. like we dont have enough of those where we are coming from. of course they tell me i can't speak french. i know. i told YOU that. then you INSISTED i say something. oy.

the party is fun. michal's friend james walks us back. he is from liverpool and therefore has a northern accent. dana asks him if people here "know he isn't from ireland". yes, yes theyd do know. good question though. we all hit up mcdonalds again. and we are in for the night.

the next day we head to portobello road. it is slightly misty-rainy, but it was so nice the days before we don't complain. we walk all around, google a fro-yo place. head to harrods to see the food court. duh. head to another department store i forget the name of. head to the victoria and albert museum. conclude the day by ordering in indian food. duh when in london. and head to brick lane for our final night.

while we weren't looking to do anything crazy, so we mostly just observed. brick lane is a culture of its own. super fun. glad i saw it. sat outside and drank beers. laur joined us. then we headed home for toast and some always sunny. clutch.

everything seemed normal. we got a suprise visit from a blacked-out james. as we lay in bed the buzzer rings. we figure it is not for michal's apt. it rings again. then there is an extreme attack on the door. i am talking non-stop banging. michal gets up. its james.

oy. coming from a rugby something or other. most definitely wearing a stolen jersey covered in signatures. he is hopping in and out of the bed. crying "me hand". his hand is bleeding. his takes of his pants. he takes of his shirt. he puts on michal's boxers. he shows us his cuts. he is ridiculous.

finally he falls asleep on the floor. we wake up for the airport, he is passed out. michal later informs us he woke up with no idea how he got there. and he buys her breakfast. silly brits.

barca.

barca. barcelona. woo. stop two. so warm. so yay.

basically i stepped of the renfe into every-man-is-gonna-steal-my-bag terror. oops. like i had legit been warned by everyone and their mom. so like. i held onto that thing like my child. and success. i have everything. or whatever they took--i have yet to notice. both good in my opinion.

we stayed in lauren's apt while in barca. straight out of ikea. love it. night one is monday night. aka lunes. aka loco lunes. we walk around laur's neighborhood. see sagrada familia. laur recites facts like wikipedia. we grab dinner at a tapas bar (when in spain) and siesta it up before the night.

while in barcelona we acted like americans studying abroad in barcelona, aka we followed promoters to where the american kids were going. we leave lauren's apt at 1:30 am. yes. you are reading that correctly. we get home at 4 something. we sleep. we rise. we tourist it up. no time for significant rest. this is vacay.

the day starts rough. i have breakfast at mcdonalds. the grease is a must. oye. then we shop around, walk up and down main street. walk down las ramblas. go to the boqueria. head down to the water. like. its great.

side note. spain has these AMAZING food markets. both in madrid and barcelona. needless to say... i'm jealous. wah.

tuesday night is more lax. we head to dinner with laur and another girl from cornell. we go to carpe diem. a restuarant/lounge on the beach. legit feels like we are in miami when we step of metro. apparently that area is supah sketch but we walk around all of us. all these clubs have like little doors along the beach and you enter and go downstairs to the full restaurant. tres chic. it was expensive (spanish standards. oy) but so worth it. so yum.

wednesday night, dana and i embrace our american-side. laur has to "study" for a midterm. aka skype. aka sit in front of computer. we head over to the hard rock. a poppin' spot. letmetellyou. like its craycray. packed solid. 1 hour 20 min wait. we accept. head to bar. grab drink. chill. time passes. i check our buzzer. 10 to 20. time passes. dana checks our buzzer. 32 minutes. yes. thirty TWO. exactly. come again? i go right back. i ask to check. here is the woman's response:

i just told your friend... it was 32 minutes.

i know i was just double checking because before the woman said 10 to 20--

NO. i JUST told your FRIEND. 32 minutes.

like i know lady. i heard you. i am sorry that such an OBSCURE estimate made me come back to double check. MY BAD. oye.

whatever. totes worth it. food was yum. drinks were yum. all around good stuff.

as for sites. park guell was unreal. gaudi's architecture throughout the city is amazing. sagrada familia, while unfinished was spectacular. all around success and phase two was officially completey.

on to london.

YOU SOUND LIKE YOU'RE FROM LONDON.

welcome to espana. madrid.

madrid. okay, so this vacation got off to a good start. dana and i set out at a lovely 4:15 am for CDG. we called a cab, hustled over to the airport, and were on our way a lovely 1.5 hours early. we sat, chilled, sat, read, sat, dozed. then they called our flight. joy. we get in line, all ready to board. i need to check my bag.

i have been sitting here for over an hour, and now i realize i need to check one of my bags.

the woman looks at me.

"i am not sure if you'll have time". she is not sure if i'll have time. what does that mean? like time for what. cause i am getting on the plane. like. no questions. so the sprint begins.

run. run. one desk. run. second desk. run. pay at third desk. jump to front of line. she tells me to cut security, i just look at her. she takes me to front of security. i go through security round deux. this time they do not speculate in my voltage converter is a bomb. round one they did. i run, hustle, run. meet dana at line. miraculously we find two seats together. TG for dana. and we are off. phase one. madrid.

we get to madrid, hope an airport bus. arrive at atocha-renfe, take a cab to our hotel. the hotel is feet away. l'oops. bigger l'oops. we are called putas, and charged 9 euros. interesting. welcome to madrid. best part, he asks us if we understand. yes. we entiendo. no apology. we are still putas. that's just rude.

anyway. moving forward. the hotel was ama. like so nice. so great. so wow. also cheap. thanks expedia (plug. no i am not being paid by expedia or special k. yes. i think i should be as well).

view is great, sun is shining, people are speaking a language i understand.

we move out post-dropping bags. its breakfast time.

we stumble upon a hole in the wall, order some tortilla espanola (eggs and potatos. aka YUM). it was 2 euros. did i mention i love spain. my coffee cost more than 2 euros in paris. rude.

anna acts as our tour guide, our live in tour guide. our share-a-twin-bed-with-me tour guide. but an excellent tour guide. so like. whatevah.

the next few days are full of sunshine followed by rain followed by more sunshine. temps are in the 60s. we walk around. get tapas, get paella. get our culture on via the reina sophia, prado, and the palace. spend some time soaking up rays in the plaza de orient. like good time all around.

of course we locate an sbucks. chill there. meet a canadian woman. we chit chat. she is from ottowa. shout out to the padre. she studied in both madrid and paris. she is super nice. she is waiting for the bathroom. no judgment .i take english where i can get it.

the next day is slightly rainy, we museum it up, during our siesta i go back to anna's with her to grabs some belongings, here is where ish gets freaky. we walk into her homestay. NO POWER. and i see anna is nervous. so internally freak, externally remain calm. i know. so smart slash great of me. i bbm and whatsapp up the wazoo telling loved ones this may be the end. but on the exterior i am cool calm and collected. needless to say we grab ish and go, back to the hotel... aka safety. that night we (and by we i mean dana) find this great japanese place to go for dinner on saturday night. its in a business area, so it looks very diffrent from sol, but we eat a late dinner and relax and enjoy. so yum. and so much more affordable than paris. (see a trend?)

the next night anna has hdubbs. i know. homework abroad. gasp. but she's legit so we let her do her thang. dana, once again, finds us some food. we go to this cute italian place, teatriz, also in a business-y area, but also with shopping. and its in an old theater, hence name. and was ALSO so good. i approve of food in spain. please note, teatriz was discovered post-going to hard rock to find out it was closed for a private event. l'oops.

the next day we walk around, check-out, grab quick lunch at sbucks and board the renfe. shout out to 7th and 8th grade spanish with colombo. def researched the renfe and AVE trains. alto velocidad. or whatever.

next stop barca. wooooo.

vacay.

hola.

i am on vacayyyy. will post as soon as i am back at my maison.

madrid. barcelona. london.

thursday, friday, saturday. woo.

so unfortunately. running into madame thaib on the metro was not a one-time-thing.

for the rest of the week i rode the metro with her. including thursday. why am i emphasizing thursday, jeudi, if you will? well on thursday ines teaches our class. our ta. not thaib. so WHY WAS SHE STILL ON THE METRO. oye.

thursday was fairly uneventful. i went to class, came home. freaked out because our wifi didn't work ANYWHERE. not just in my servant's quarters but like anywhere. TG for my 407 #1B living experience, i knew how to restart the wifi. count it.

thursday night we went to Rice and Beans. a mexican place in the 2nd arrondissement. it was yummy we got tacos et burritos. one flaw. no tequila. no corona. they had wine (duh.) and some beer. oye. they call themselves a mexican restaurant. whatever. it was yummy. satisfied craving. so cross that of muh list.

friday was BEAUTIFUL. like 60s. sunny. amazing. dana and i went to saint germain de pres. walked around. soaked up some rays. i took several touristy photos of the street. dana continued to walk. whoops. we stumbled upon a great cafe as well as a great little shop i'll make the madre go to upon her visit. (notice how thoughtful i am, thinking of the parental units while abroad).

friday night was cafe oz round deux. bahaha. eesh. carmen is away for le week-end (yes. that is how you say it in french. no. i am not being obnoxious). so the house is quite empty and dark. but we are managing.

we prepared ourselves for the evening and headed over to ian's for a GW-packed pre-game. ian and ava live right near the tour eiffel (cue touristy shots round deux). one i took was just plain pretty, the tower at nuit. the other fab shot i got was the crazy light-up show it does.... on the hour.

ian and ava also live near, and by near i mean across the street from the AUP libe. but i have never been to the AUP libe. so that doesn't really help me with a frame of reference. perhaps it will help you?

anyway we depart from ian and ava's post a quick run to a bodega for some additional drank. we cab it to cafe oz. get out. line again. totes worth it. moves fast. all of us are in. once again super fun. once again we meet craycray french people when getting breathers outside.

circa 3 AM dana and i decide we need some food, duh, and then we need to find the night bus. so we find a food stand. word. directly across the street from cafe oz slash supah packed. so why not. we get in line.

THIS IS WHEN STUFF GETS WEIRD.

dana is wearing an uber fashionable crop top compliments of H & M. and this french man strokes her stomach. strokes. i look at him, slightly wastey-faced and go. RUDE.

we leave, walk right outside food stand, and wait for creeper mccreepstein to leave. 10 mins pass (most likely 3, but it felt like an eternity). get back in line. THERE HE IS AGAIN. strokes it again. this prompts me to say, once again. YOU'RE RUDE. dana tweets that her stomach has been caressed. and i push to the OTHER side of the line. girls on a mission, duh.

we chat, pick what we want, chat. people exclaim "you're from america" i respond. yes. yadda yadda. and we're up. i order: un sandwich poulet sans fromage. dana gets a nutella crepe. clutch.

my sandwich comes out. pita wrap thingy, poulet, fries, i am not complaining. i bite into it. I AM COMPLAINING. there is hot sauce on my poulet. like i am a fan of hot sauce. but not right now. wah. what an awful slash miserable slash unwanted surprise.

i give the sandwich to some boy we are standing with and am left holding a cone of a few fries and some shreds of poulet. l'epic fail.

onward. we march on to the bus stop. i ask these girls sitting there if they are waiting for the neuf deux. the nine two. yes in french that means nothing. AND. we were looking for the n16, the night bus #16. the bus #92 is the regular bus dana and i take. l'oops.

the girls understood. dana sits. i stand. we wait. the bus comes eventually. we hop on. home. i bbm everyone i know asking for water. ely tells me she'll order me some. jean says she'll send me some. i have such accommodating friends. don't worry guys. i got some. and some special k. obvs.

we get home circa 4:30. sleep til 12. it was rainy today in paris. GASP.

special note: i would like to take this time to admit to an addiction i have. i will attempt to stop purchasing special k as of this week. (that's a lie.) but i am aware that i have a problem. first step. id the issue: special k.

additionally. tonight is a jam-packed night of. drumroll please. hdubbs and the departed. joys. while i basically don't go to school here. this week i have two tests. not. fair.

OH EM GEE.

how did i forget.

this news is not just a quick edit to a previous post or tack-on.

carmen made a crumble aux pommes et framboises. for all you ne parlez pas francais. that is a CRUMBLE with APPLES and RASPBERRIES.

so at first. i was peeking at it. as it cooled on the balcony outside the kitchen. then i admired the huge bowl of sugar and cherries just chillin' becoming jam. then i ate my dinner. still admiring both.

then carmen came in. i asked what the occasion was. she replied. no occasion. she just made it.

i like her, duh.

then she asked if i wanted any. no, merci. i'm fine. okay, she replied. and took the crumble with her. time passes, i come down to book my tickets to amsterdam. read emails. catch up on FB.

carmen comes back with the crumble. i keep working. i look up. there she is. a little bowl of crumble in hand and a spoon.

if you don't like it. si je ne aime pas. you don't have to eat it.

what a great homestay mommy. shout out to carmen. you're the bomb.com.

ps. i loved it. duh. SO GOOD. gahhh.

spring time in paris. sort of.

kind of.

a brief glimse if you will. on monday it was sunny and gorg in paris. i am not good with temperature guesses, but i wore a blazer and scarf so you can figure that out.

anyway, monday started off... less than spectacular. on my metro ride i was chillin' as normal. listening to some jams. regina specktor BEGIN TO HOPE... if you are curious. if you want to be in the moment with me so to speak. haha.

so chilling. make my transfer. get on new train. chilling. arrive at my stop. step off train. my chill morning is interrupted. an impostor. madame thaib. yes. you recognize the name. my french teacher. OYE.

she starts parle-ing avec moi in french of course. how was my weekend. what did i do. i answer in broken french slash frenglish. like whatever. mi ami lauren. visite du barcelona. (broken french... bleh bleh) ehhh (more broken french blehhh). as we get up the escalator i have now become aware that she spent her weekend at bookfair. she is amazed i walked all around paris in my ballet flats. she broke her foot last year and has to wear orthopedic shoes (did not catch this french word but she pointed at her black less-than-chic sneaks). ahh. oui oui. wellllll. then i tried to work some french magic. il faut aller a la banque.

and i'm free. i tranverser la rue and fake go to the atm. no i am not proud i fake atm'd. i am proud i escaped. so you win some you lose some. listen people, before you judge. in case you FORGOT. monday is double period french. so i did what i HAD to do. mmkay?

whatever. nbd. 8 kids show up to my french class of approx 20. fml. so we are sitting. period one goes by painfully slow. then as the break is about to occur a moment of complete and utter shock occurs throughout the room.

madame thaib: i think for the next period we should all get lunch together.

shock factors. one. it was said in english. two. she suggested we ultimately skip class. three. the activity included food.

um okay. so we all meet up at the restaurant right outside the metro. a few additional people stroll in for period two. and we enjoy a nice lunch. i speak in english. oops. and i discuss amsterdam plans with two girls that just got back. all in all a success. then we all peace out. good second period.

after french i decide to be noble and take advantage of the weather. so i opt to WALK HOME. i am going to make myself sound impressive, unless you know how the arrondissements work. in which case i am less impressive. BUT. i live in the 17th district or arrondissement. my school is in the 7th. yeah i walked it.

so in reality. i walk from the seventh, across the bridge, through the 8th, and arrive in the 17th, but it sounnnnddds like i walked 10 districts home. eh?

anyway, the walk isn't THAT short, it is hefty. made even heftier by me getting l'lost. like OOPS. when i got the l'arch i was tres confused as to which one of the million rues jutting from the circle was the one i needed. oye. def took out my map. def looked like a tourist. def got home over an hour later. oops.

i got home. went to monoprix. met marlyse in park. gym'd. and made dinner. overall success if i do say so myself.

listen people. one day at a time.

yesterday i walked home.

today i booked tickets to and from amsterdam to meet abbs.

tomorrow i will do laundry.

BIG THINGS ARE HAPPENING on this side of the atlantic. watch out.

cafe oz.

after our tres french dinners, while content may have been questionable we ate at 10:00 so timing was tres francais. dana and i decide, since we economically ate at home, we can spend the 5 euros each for a cab to the bar, considering it was 12:15 and we hadn't left yet. we find a cab in our circle and hop in. i had heard about cafe oz from kids in my cours du francais. and we had seen it on the cab ride home friday night and it was poppin'.

cue cab ride to cafe oz.

you girls speak french? un peu. i speak a little english. where are you two going? dana answers, he makes some comment. asks us what we are doing in paris. i explain i am an artist. did i mention we had wine? dana lets him know i am not. whatever. its an interpretative term, artist.

he asks us if we have had hasheesh. we ask him what? he tells us you smoke it, it makes all the young people smile. don't smoke it. okay, noted. he asks us if we the cocaine. dana laughs out loud. no we don't do the cocaine. but why he asks. he says it is very strong and very expensive. yes mister cab driver. all of the above is correct. 12 euros later we are at the bar. he notices the long line and tells us we have made a good decision. okay whatever. thank you for the ride. peace out.

the line was tres long. dana and i wait. trading spots in line as the other explores. stephanie and lauren arrive, join us in line. we wait two more mins. this guy approaches me and asks if we will go in with them, it is hard for men alone to get it. DUH. i am always one to help. we cut our way ahead a few. woo. we get to the front. we are id'd. duh. then they send dana in. and she comes back with tickets. meanwhile. the two men that we are getting in think i am nuts. oops. whatever.

once in the bar. it is so fun. loud. lots of scottish rugby players. lots of american music. lots of people. lots of fun. we stepped out for a breather circa 1:45 am. cue john.

john starts talking to us. asks us where we are from. chattin up a storm. we introduce ourselves. yadda yadda. bye john we head back in.

around 2:30 we decide to leave. we head out. meet some british folk on the street. walk walk. find laur and steph a cab. walk walk no cabs. tons of people waiting. no cabs. no cabs. no late night food open. no happy hayley and dana. we walk. walllllk. walk to le marais.

like NOTHING. we pass like a gazillion night buses but neither of us know how they work. they are a mysterious beast. they are all over the city, but way different routes than the normal buses, which dana and i also know nothing about so. like. hmmm interesting.

no cabs. wah. i am texting and bbm'ing people. they probably think i am on the verge of death and or being taken. maybe cause i told them that. oops.

finally a bus with a familiar term sprawled across the top. the last metro stop on our line is flashing across the front. we get on. approximately 40 minutes later we arrive home. head inside. grab some special k. and get in bed.

our total journey home took approximately over an hour. but hey. we made it.

l'week-end.

thursday night dana, marlyse, and i tried willi's wine bar. tres yummy. wine was good. meh expensive and won't be doing that again. while i recognize that spending money on experiences is a good use of my funds, that was a one time thing, and i'd rather eat at small cafes and experience more on my travels. so check that off the list. the food was good, company was good, wine was good. yay.

after the wine bar the three of us split, marlyse was en route to meet french friends, dana some gw kids at aup, and me some cornell kids including some visiting from rome. hopped on le metro post wine-bar. oye. i got there, but it took some time, and several times walking around the same circle looking for the rue i needed. when i arrived at baxo bar everyone was ready to head home or move on. so we hopped BACK on the metro, when i soon realized maybs i should ride this home considering manch was coming to visit tomorrow, AND avoid paying for a cab. so i did. wooo success. so economical.

got home. special k. fell asleep to movie in bed.

friday was a day of checking things off lists. lauren and her friends from barca arrived with a list of places to go and see. we knocked what dana and i had done in weeks in paris off in a matter of half a day, made it home for siesta and reconvened at the sacre coeur circa 20:00, or for those of you in the united states... 8:00 pm.

the church was GORGEOUS. on top of montmartre. you can see all of paris. absolutely gorgeous. the hike up the gazillions of stairs only to realize a tram exists that can take you from the metro up to the church was less than glam, but hey. you win some you lose some.

we took pictures, enjoyed the view, and headed to the latin quarter for dinner. the latin quarter was poppin' full of people and restaurants, we ate the usual parisian 3-hour meal and made our way to rue de lappe to enjoy some hipster-esque bar scene and sip sangria in the que pasa bar. i know i know. my friends visit from spain, and we go to que pasa. what.ever. oops.

btdubbs. nevah. in my life. have i been id'd as hard as i was at que pasa. i mean for one. the drinking age is 18. secondly. it was my real id. which is a rare occasion. again. i don't pretend to understand.

saturday was more lax. girls from barcelona visted notre dame and musee d'orsay. dana and i snoozed, made breakfast. headed to marais to meet them. of course i introduced dana to all my great food spots en le marais. and we walked around, in and out of boutiques, headed to gallery lafayette. bought wine for dinner. and it was nap time again.

in true french style, i had some baguette, some camembert, and some special k for dinnah. dana made thai chicken with rice noodles. and special k. are you noticing a trend?

the wine we got was good despite the the sommelier being a sommel-jerk. he was like. i don't understand what you want. i felt like saying. then you are no good at your job mister. tres rude. but the wine was tasty. so we win. count it. 1 for team dana and hayley. 0 for evil sommelier.

la culture.

today was a day of cultural exploration.

i had french class in the am. duh. then i had a break from 12 to 1:30, until amelia finished class and we could grab lunch before our field trip. duh i spent it in starbucks. this time ordering in french. and asking the barista how to say "that's all." c'est bon. cafe de la semaine in hand, i sat and did the crossword and looked up directions. success.

the history of france through architecture meets every tuesday for the usual 1 h 20 m block, and then on wednesdays for a double period outside the classroom. last week was notre dame. this week was musee carnavalet, in the marais. amelia and i decided to grab lunch in the marais this time, then just wander until 3:45 when the class begins.

amelia had heard of this falafel places in the marais, from a boy in ROME, while visiting a friend last weekend. i mean it is internationally known, so we google'd. it quickly became evident this was lenny kravitz's fave spot. i mean if its good enough for lenny. so tuesday in class we decided to give it a try.

UM. if you are visiting me, which some of you are. we are going. L'As du Fallafel. YUM. lenny's pic is on the outside, you can order in the window or sit inside, it is supah fast. and SO tasty. we got the vegeterian special. DUH, what they are known for. so good. mmmm.

http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/12/31/travel/31bite.html

read about it. come visit me. i'll go with you.

after we finished we wandered, headed over to BHV. yes you are remembering correctly. yes i have been here. this is where i bought my beloved portfolios. as i mentioned this is a one-stop-shop, and amelia needed to copy her bathroom key per her landlords request. 5 mins and 3.50 euros later we had two bathroom keys and we were off. next stop. numerous shoe stores. so many. the marais was a breath of fresh air. stores i could afford. tres exciting. the glam of paris fashion quickly wears off and zara and h & m quickly become old news, so these cheaper boutiques were much needed. we window shopped, browsing briefly en route to the musee. we real shopped in a boulangerie, where i practiced my french. pointing at some shortbread looking cookie and saying quest-ce que c'est? shortbread et chocolat. sounds good. took one of those, amelia snagged a pain au choclat. cue le balance that i asked carmen for. heheh.

then the musee happened, lovely former private residence, now museum of history of paris. once again my prof proved to be a plethora of historical and architectural knowledge. wowza. notes were taken, knowledge was gained.

back to shoe stores. we stopped in two. amelia purchased tres chic ballet flats, and some cute lace-up jazz-esque flats. i purchased some lace-up jazz-esque flats.... i guess flats are all dancing themed these days. over all success, 15 euro purchase and some french style points.

tomorrow's plans inlcude french class, musee d'orsay, and le BHV round trois. tomorrow evening dana, marlyse, and i have reservations at willi's wine bar. a wine bar near the louvre. ryan seacrest was spotted there. if its good enough for ryan... jk. only works with lenny. i couldn't care less about ryan's taste in wine bars. oye.

overall cultural success. another day. another ounce of french culture absorbed. i'm on my wayyy.

today is special.

today gets a post all its own. here goes:

the day started with the need to purchase a navigo pass pour le mois. i get to the metro stop, per usual, and find the navigo reload station. first three tries i am denied. i cannot tell you why, because the error message was in french, but i was SO denied that i could not even push buttons. just denied.

fourth try is the charm. woo. so i place my navigo on the reload pad. scan through options. purchase a pass for the month for zones 1 and 2. 60.40 euros later (sorry m and d) i am mobile.

time to enter metro. cue awkward american carrying portfolio round deux. today is drawing class. my one day a week where i sit for 3 hours and draw. channel my inner artist. whatever.

now that i own a portfolio, i carry my art in it. duh. so i am swiping my newly charged navigo pass, and i cannot figure out how to get through the turnstile. oye. i did this once before, with TWO of these. i am confused, and needless to say, people around me can tell. an awkward 1.2 mins later i am through, and so is the portfolio. as i smooth my jacket down, re-adjust my bag, and gather my pride, i walk to the train. whatever. its not like its a secret i am not from here.

so i travel to school, one transfer and several metro stops later i get off. TG when you exit it is regular doors. go up the escalator. daylight. as i do my usual routine, i cannot make my portfolio less awkward. in case you are wondering the thing is huge, something like 53 cm by 47 cm. like big. i made those numbers up, but its large and in charge. and no handle. just a large, over-sized folder-esque thing under my arm.

as i do the usual, stop in franprix i get my ONE DEAL IN PARIS. my 150 cL of water for .21 euros. i am not sure how this happened, or why it is so cheap. but i don't ask questions. every day, monday through thursday, i just buy one. and walk to class.

i am going to fast forward now, because the next 1.5 hours are spent in french 125 A. and no one needs to hear about that. slash meh. i am not discussing it. haha.

DRAWING CLASS. so dana is running late, which i gather from bbms i have received during french class. hannah and i walk to class, making a quick stop in a boulangerie where i get un sandwich avec jambon et salade, sans fromage. word. yes i have expanded upon the original sandwich.

get to class. attempt to prepare myself mentally for the nude model but as i make my way up the steps to the studio. THERE HE IS. naked. just walking, hanging around (haven't decided if the pun is intended yet....) like whoa. frantically bbm dad, dana, everyone. like NAKED. so naked.

i am usually SO mature, i swear. but this is weird. luckily the first pose his back is to us. like TG she eased us in. this twenty-something dancer only speaks french, so the teacher converses with him. 45 minutes later. break time. break is over. he gets back into same position, 15 more minutes. TG i survived.

did i mention drawing is double block. oye. 3 total hours. so one hour down. next pose. 30 minutes. full frontal. just standing. chillin'. gah. needless to say, my second piece was lacking some major organs. like kill me. whatever.

next pose. 30 minutes. sitting in chair. sprawled out. full frontal. once again. missing some key organs. once again. kill me. like i tried.

next pose a series of several short poses, some i cannot even describe. remember. he is a dancer. GAH.

i survived, barely. post studio time i sprinted to starbucks to get a coffee and regain my composure. ran back to get to history of france through architecture. obviously spilled coffee on my sweater. THEY FILL THE CUPS SO HIGH because people in france believe solely in black coffee. once again, i am not from here. its no secret. give me room for my demi-creme. gah.

once that class was over i successfully made it home, stopped at monoprix fro some necessities. gym'd and made dinner.

the real winning moment of the day was my french conversation i had with carmen, my house mom.

me: ou est-ce que vous achetez un "scale"?

carmen: ah, un balance. i have, you can borrow. you can say: ou pouvez-vous acheter un balance?

mind you, carmen doesn't think she speaks english well. bahhh. okay carmen.

then we discussed why i needed the scale, she asked if i was trying to lose weight, i explained i was trying not to gain weight. cue daily baguettes, croissants, and pain au chocolat. oye.

she laughed, taught me how to say that in french, which i won't even try to type here now.

REGARDLESS. i spoke french, and was understood. yayaya. go me.

next step: l'accent.

attempts at independence.

so. having no formal training in french. GASP. i have become fairly dependent on those that do have a clue what is going on around them. its fine and all, but occasionally its nice to feel like i could potentially survive if left deserted on a street corner.

so. i have begun to venture out on my own.

saturday morning i woke up to meet marie-claire at her apt. i shared a room with her at the dreaded fiap, see previous posts. oye. anyway, she had her share of housing woes, but found herself with an adorable french apartment in a great little neighborhood, and saturday i saw it.

i met her at 11:15 ish, took the metro myself, looked up transfers myself. myself (for emphasis). she met me at the metro, baguette in hand tres francaise. we went back to her apartment, where she fed me this amazing chocolate chip bread creation her local boulangerie sells. and i tried guava juice. yum.

next we ventured out towards a flea market I HAD LOOKED UP, that she verified was near her. we looked around and i found these amazing rings that i wanted... then found out were 80, 90, or 100 euros, like hi. flea market? whatever. this is a french flea market. lesson learned. meh. kept walking. it was frigid. people were packing up. i was left wishing i had listened to my mother and packed gloves. whoops. second lesson learned. mom is always right. :)

after we exited le flea market. we walked all around her neighborhood, i enlightened her to the fabulous establishment known as picard. frozen food heaven. we walked, chatted, and lunched. lunch of course took 2-3 hours. what up france. and then i let her go, she is a transfer to AUP. aka a real student. aka not just taking art and art hsitory and french. aka has h.dubbs. i left her to do her 17 chapters of law reading while i metro'd it over to meet dana at a vintage clothing shop in the 1st arr.

yes. once again i navigated MYSELF to dana. go me.

while the next example is not on my own, it is me attempting to use french, so i should still get some points. dana and i got postcards for some extremely important people in our lives (yes everyone, yours is in the mail). and we decided to mail them en route to the gym. we walk into le poste.

one. they wear silly vests at the post offices in paris. haha

two. oye. talk about confusing slash having NO idea what i needed to do. TG for dana.

she parle en francais and gets the guy to tell us WHICH line to stand in. we stand for like 20 minutes, one woman in front of us. again, what up france.

its our turn. dana works her french magic, says she needs to send these to the USA, she buys her four stamps, licks them, and hands the post cards to the woman. yes. i said lick. these are not self adhesive stamps. did i mention france is somewhat behind. as i type this post from the base of my staircase. where i get le wee fee access.

HERE IS MY MOMENT, i step forward:

moi aussi, trois.

yes dana made fun of my non-accent. yes it was three words. YES I GOT STAMPS. so in the end, i won!

Lastly, dana and i needed portfolios for all of our amazing works of art. and tuesday, aka nudey-day (nude model in tomorrows class), is drawing class. so i took it upon myself to venture out after my double period of french and get us some portfolios. my friend hannah had informed me i could go to BHV to get some art supplies, and that i they had portfolios there. she said it was the Hotel D'Ville stop on the 1 or the 11. so i figured i'd just wing it.

hopped on the metro transferred from the 8, to the 1, hopped off. fail #1. i got stuck/lost in the metro station. i kept following signs for what i thought was the sortie. oye. oops. i finally found a green man walking up stairs (the sign for exit) like 15 minutes later, and found daylight TG.

i see BHV across the street. confused. it is a large department store. oye. fml. hannah has sent me to one of those one stop shopping nightmares for the non-french speaker. confused because i met hannah in french class, therefore her french is minimal slash non existent as well. i remember her saying that i should go up one level. TG. i go up on level in this parisian monstrosity.

F to the M to the L. this place is huge. like huuuuuge. like so big i cannot see behind displays. there are all these signs in french, and tons of art supplies, office supplies, luggage, books, dvds, EVERYTHING. i wander. frantically text jared. attempt to bbm dana. like i cannot come all this way and walk out without two portfolios.

i cannot ask for help because i don't know the french word for portfolio. i consider my charades skills briefly, and realize there is no good way to act out the word portfolio. commence aimless wandering.

this occurs for approximately 12 minutes when i find the art section. paper. pencils. paintbrushes. i am close. i can feeeeeel it. finally, portfolios. i grab two. somehow find the register. TG for digital display, i read the total and get out of there.

on my way out my portfolios do not make it through the glass door as successfully as i do. oops. bag ripped. yes, i am that awkward girl on the train with the oversized package attempting to fit. yes i transferred 3 times. yes everyone around me hated me. but then they hated the woman next to me cutting her nails more. so you win some you lose some.

all in all, i have been slowly becoming more independent. watch out. its about to get cray cray.