In Pieces
My laundry list of topics to cover completely overwhelm me and deters me from writing one. more. word. on this godforsaken blog. I'll appreciate it in a few months, yes...I'll appreciate it in a few months.
An update on today's rendezvous with the French bizzles:
I took Line 13 to Gare Montparnasse, and then hopped on Line 6 to Place d'Italie and lastly Line 7 to Censier Daubenton, which is close to the Latin Quarter, and right next to the street we wanted to re-explore, Rue Mouffetard (giggle).
We met up with Ralph and Marwan (Lebanese for Marvin) for drinks at Margen's sports pub, which resembled a hick-y Canadian hole-in-the-wall booze-ery but jam-packed with natives watching the World Cup of Handball (France beat Croatia, btw). Catherine and I finally got to try vin chaud (wine served warm), and it was marvelous. The guys, who we thought were native Parisians, turned out to be recent Lebanese graduates who just started working at a tele-com engineering company in Paris; however, since Lebanon was colonized by France circa 1900s, their French was pretty fluent. To keep it short, we chatted about usual stuff, then decided to go eat at Mac-Do (McDonald's), but I decided to head back home. (I had a scheduled Skype appointment with the mother in Houston.)
About my home/family:
I live in the 14ème arrondissement of Paris (south west, and left of the Seine). My closest arrêt is Gaîté (near Tour Montparnasse), and it takes me a good 10 min to walk to my host family's duplex, which is on rue du Château, a very very safe and quiet neighborhood.
Voila!
Agrandir le plan
My family, whom I met last Sunday, is very gentille et confortable. The mother does admin work for Montessori-like elementary schools around the area and is also a volunteer for an Alzheimer's Foundation. The father works for the government and publishes passed laws on the web??? Je ne sais pas. They have three kids: Alexandre (m), 30, who works for Radio France (moved out); Aurélienne (m), 26, who works at a retirement home; and Céléstine (f), 21, who is currently studying for the test to get in J-school. [Don't they have gorgeous names?] I don't see them much except for run-ins at breakfast or at the dinner table. Oh boy, dinner. That's a story in itself. In short, it starts at 8:30p and lasts an avg of 1.5 hrs each night. It defines what Americans call "awkward," or maladroît. Of course, it's not awkward to them since it's their custom and it's family, but twiddle twiddle twiddle go my thumbs every night.
My room is comfy and perfectly furnished. By perfect, I mean I get a small TV to watch French news and a water boiler for my habitual tea-sipping. Here are some photos.
Pic of one side where I do work:
Pic of closet/door:
Main floor/entrance:
My bathroom and the spiral staircase to the 2nd floor:
What you'd see when you reach the top (living room, dining room):
other views:
The kitchen:
Whew, I covered a bit of my life over here. It's late and I have my first class at 9am tomorrow! Bon soiree tout le monde!
An update on today's rendezvous with the French bizzles:
I took Line 13 to Gare Montparnasse, and then hopped on Line 6 to Place d'Italie and lastly Line 7 to Censier Daubenton, which is close to the Latin Quarter, and right next to the street we wanted to re-explore, Rue Mouffetard (giggle).
We met up with Ralph and Marwan (Lebanese for Marvin) for drinks at Margen's sports pub, which resembled a hick-y Canadian hole-in-the-wall booze-ery but jam-packed with natives watching the World Cup of Handball (France beat Croatia, btw). Catherine and I finally got to try vin chaud (wine served warm), and it was marvelous. The guys, who we thought were native Parisians, turned out to be recent Lebanese graduates who just started working at a tele-com engineering company in Paris; however, since Lebanon was colonized by France circa 1900s, their French was pretty fluent. To keep it short, we chatted about usual stuff, then decided to go eat at Mac-Do (McDonald's), but I decided to head back home. (I had a scheduled Skype appointment with the mother in Houston.)
About my home/family:
I live in the 14ème arrondissement of Paris (south west, and left of the Seine). My closest arrêt is Gaîté (near Tour Montparnasse), and it takes me a good 10 min to walk to my host family's duplex, which is on rue du Château, a very very safe and quiet neighborhood.
Voila!
Agrandir le plan
My family, whom I met last Sunday, is very gentille et confortable. The mother does admin work for Montessori-like elementary schools around the area and is also a volunteer for an Alzheimer's Foundation. The father works for the government and publishes passed laws on the web??? Je ne sais pas. They have three kids: Alexandre (m), 30, who works for Radio France (moved out); Aurélienne (m), 26, who works at a retirement home; and Céléstine (f), 21, who is currently studying for the test to get in J-school. [Don't they have gorgeous names?] I don't see them much except for run-ins at breakfast or at the dinner table. Oh boy, dinner. That's a story in itself. In short, it starts at 8:30p and lasts an avg of 1.5 hrs each night. It defines what Americans call "awkward," or maladroît. Of course, it's not awkward to them since it's their custom and it's family, but twiddle twiddle twiddle go my thumbs every night.
My room is comfy and perfectly furnished. By perfect, I mean I get a small TV to watch French news and a water boiler for my habitual tea-sipping. Here are some photos.
Pic of one side where I do work:
Pic of closet/door:
Main floor/entrance:
My bathroom and the spiral staircase to the 2nd floor:
What you'd see when you reach the top (living room, dining room):
other views:
The kitchen:
Whew, I covered a bit of my life over here. It's late and I have my first class at 9am tomorrow! Bon soiree tout le monde!
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