Cooking, boat cruise, et mon chéri ;)

Bonsoir!

I love how you can estimate what time it is here without checking your phone or watch, but simply by observing how people greet each other in passing. I believe I mentioned earlier that Parisians are not as haughty as we often make them out to be. They too consider it common courtesy to greet those you pass on the street, and especially to say hello and goodbye whenever entering or leaving a shop. Around 5 pm, you stop hear bonjour/bonne journeé (good day/have a nice day), and begin hearing bonsoir/bonne soirée (good evening/have a good evening). 

Anyways, that little lesson was rather random and unnecessary, so I guess I'll move on and write about cooking dinner with my new friends Annie and Melanie. Annie is from California; Melanie is from Connecticut, and we all plan to go to Munich together in early October to see Oktoberfest for a few days!

We met at Annies room and cooked bow-tie pasta with a tomato goat cheese sauce. Annie provided the pasta, I brought cheese, crackers, and wine, and Melanie graced us with her presence. (Only joking...she offered to cook next. Now we had all cooked before, but we had not cooked in a kitchen, if you can even call it a kitchen, with a 2-foot width and a stove that takes 20 minutes to boil water.

Nonetheless, when we finally got to sit down to our feast, it was fantastic. Maybe because we were starving after running around Paris all day, or because it was the first meal we made ourselves in France, or because we were just happy to be sharing a home cooked dinner with new friends. Melanie was telling us a story and she began with "When I got home today..." and then stopped herself. We commented on how funny yet also how exciting it was that we have all started referring to our apartments as home already. Of course, nothing can replace real home, but now that we have found our bearings and started getting to know each other, it's starting to feel a lot more comfortable here. 

The boat cruise is pretty self-explanatory. We walked from our campus on the Boulevard Sainte Germain to the Pont Neuf (about 6 blocks)  where we boarded the boat. Don't worry, I took LOTS of pictures. 

First, the Louvre! Built originally as a palace but converted to a museum in the 1700's.

Les bateaux de la Seine

Pont du Alexandre III representing the friendship between France and Russia...not sure how strong that friendship is right now, but the bridge is still beautiful.

Le tour Eiffel needs no explanation.

The smallest house in Paris. Can you see it?

La Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris 

And now, last but not least, my newfound expertise regarding French men....HA. In all seriousness, I'm very glad they offered this meeting. It seemed silly at first, but afterwards I realized that I probably would have committed every French dating no-no there is, or at least been horribly confused. There are all sorts of rules...for example, if he holds your hand? You're a couple. Kisses you goodnight? Yep, it's official. Even asking someone for their phone number is considered extremely forward and poor etiquette. So you can lock in a relationship by grabbing someone's hand, but getting their number is moving too fast? Yeesh. I might just be sitting this whole area out for awhile.

It was also very informative, though, regarding social norms as far as boundaries, etc. French men are notoriously flirtatious and not very discreet. We were assured that male attention is harmless and very common, so if a man winks at you on the street, feel free to offer him a smile. He isn't expecting anything. Ironically, on my way home from the meeting, a young man sat down next to me on the metro. A note about the metro: conversation is rare among strangers. So when he pulled out his earphones and cleared his throat, I was surprised. By the time he worked up the courage to say bonjour, however, it was my stop. 

As I pushed open the exit gate, I turned to hold it for the person behind me. Well wouldn't you know it was Mr. Earbuds. He smiled and began speaking to me in rapid French. I stuttered..."Uhh. Je ne parle pas bien du Frances, desole." He asked "Anglais?" And I said oui. We sat on a bench on the sidewalk and chatted for a bit. Ian is a student at the University of Paris studying social work. At least I think that's what he meant... a few things got lost in our messy Franglais.

After a brief but pleasant conversation, he graciously offered to walk me to my apartment building even though we were headed opposite directions. Since Ian and I were only recent acquaintances, however, I politely declined. He gave me "les bis," the traditional French hello/goodbye among friends, and went on his way. When I got home (see...I typed home without thinking about it!) I immediately found Annie and Melanie to tell them my story, and I think Melanie just about passed out. I told them not to get too excited though, because Ian was sweet, but not as sweet as my true chéri: le pave chocolat 

Je t'aime.