Day 6: Oh Carim, how I appreciate you so deeply...
- Marlena Skrabak
- Jun 13, 2019
- 4 min read
Updated: Jun 17, 2019
Cold again. Paris, WHY are you doing this to me?!? I did not pack for this weather and I have worn the same sweater for 6 days in a row now. 6 days. Day 6. SIX. Ring any bells?
Maybe this is an excuse to buy something... What do you say little devil on my shoulder? "Yes!" Oh, well why would I disobey...
My slight catastrophe from yesterday deserved a sufficient plan for today. And a plan I did make. As I woke up before Anna with my host family already gone for the day, I sat at breakfast sipping my coffee while I reviewed the lectures alone. Peaceful. I like the busy bustle of the city and the constant explorations that have been had; admittedly, a little breather every once in a while can be good for the soul.
A little before I left, Anna's Lubi 5 Plus came in handy as she had to call the post office. As we listened intently to decipher exactly what the fast-speaking French people were saying, this adorable (blue for Anna) phone suddenly stopped working...the minutes were all GONE. The whole lot of them. Ten to be exact. Truly living in the dark ages here...
Heading off on my own, the plan was being put into motion. Meeting with my group at 12h, I had time to explore on my own to get a sense of the arrondissement. Walking to the second, I found it again quite strange how people came up to me asking directions, as if I exude some all-knowing aura that I would love to know about. Because, man, could I use that or what. Nonetheless, my vague sense of Paris can sometimes help. What I find entertaining is how they all approach me with broken and hesitant French, I ask them if they speak English with my best attempt at French-ness, and this huge metaphorical or sometimes extremely visible sigh of relief exudes from their bodies. "Yes, I speak English" they say and then I send them on their way...I plan on tackling poetry next for those who are interested.
Navigating the streets like a true French woman, because not to hype myself up or anything but my sense of direction is not all that bad, I got to the 2ème arrondissement without the screen of my phone pressed against my face. In fact, it was pressed against the inside of my purse, safe and sound.
I arrived at the Bibliothèque Nationale-Richelieu of France. I decided to garner up enough confidence to enter this elite art institution populated by knowledgeable, artsy, and history-loving Frenchies by first taking a walk through the park called Square Louvois, modest and soothing. Through the metal detector and stared down by VERY well-dressed Parisians, I walked straight to the front desk and asked how I could get a library card. My best French forward and some self-deprecation always warms the French up, a couple minutes later I was ushered into the astounding and immensely quiet room with the ugliest picture on my ID card. I now had much admiration for the little trick on my Reid Hall student card that claims me as an "étudiante de l'histoire de l'art." Absolute genius-ness.
With time to spare for myself, I sat down next to some intensely working students, not unlike what I am surrounded by at Harvard (just scarier because they're French). Pretending to do work that I actually should have been doing, I was more focused on the stack of books that enveloped me and reached towards the ceiling. I could have spent hours despite the intimidation factor.
Time to meet my group so out I walk towards la Bourse that really isn't la Bourse at all any more. All I know is that it is big, has many columns, and is reserved for the "privé" according to the security guard. Okay, next.
This exploration consisted of much aimless walking to get a sense of the "Grands Boulevards" full of rushing life in comparison with the narrow passages, each with their own charm, where life felt like it slowed down, removed from the outside world yet still receiving its light from above. Done. It went so smoothly, I was one happy camper. I enjoy all ambiguous exploration by foot. I will advise, if you want to cross a roundabout to get to the center where the statue is...RUN.
Eventually, time came to make it back to Reid Hall. I still had to do my interview with a random Parisian that was assigned on Monday (see Day 3). Eugh. I was nervous. Who?
Walking into Reid Hall, I asked the security guard what the code for the entrance was...and then the brilliant idea was sparked inside me. The security guard. Him. He is perfect. His is my homework. Thank you Carim. One of the most genuine, sweet, thoughtful, and truly interesting conversations I have had unexpectedly, I felt fortunate to have run across someone so willing to talk to me. He is the man I will do the feature on. Maybe I'll even post the finished product on here.
Class focused on "la capitale" in the 2ème as this conglomeration of Haussmann influences, the presence of money (la Bourse), and the exchanges and life of capitalism: the movement of people, clothes, and money.
My beautiful coffee from a gas-station-like vending machine in hand and all became doable.
The walk home was sunny with rain drops pelting me at the same time. The feeling was quite strange.
Anna's birthday is tomorrow so tonight was the "party" with the family. Two glasses of port and two glasses of rosé later, I can say with certainty that my French disappeared a little...
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