Greetings from the gray city

Whoever said Paris is the City of Lights must not have been here during the winter. This place is dreary. The ten-day forecast: clouds and light rain, highs in the mid 40s. For the next ten days! There are bursts of sunshine every now and then for a few minutes at a time, but for the most part, it's just a steady, cold precipitation. My umbrella almost inverted several times today, so I eventually just gave up and got a little damp. However, the rain is not a strong enough deterrent to keep me from my pain au chocolat. I'll venture out in any weather to obtain one of those edible treasures.

This week has drained me of energy. Classes started on Monday, and there is a lot more work in this first week than I anticipated. I have seven and a half hours of class on Mondays alone. I start at 9:00 am, and don't finish until 5:30 pm. That is three, two and a half hour classes, back to back with just a half hour break in between each. Academic suicide, anyone? I guess I shouldn't complain, though, because the French education system is apparently pretty hard core, with kids going to school from 8 to 5:30 as early as elementary school.

My first class is called the Economic Development of Europe (or something along those lines....is it a bad thing that I don't remember the exact name of the class?). It has the potential to be extremely interesting. Alas, it is not. My limited background in economics is compounded by the fact that the class is in French. I spend half of the time passively listening to the French syllables float into my ears, and the other half trying to comprehend the economic principles the professor is discussing. The French part is okay. I understand the basic ideas, if not every single word. But the details escape me. The professor talks rather quickly, and though she slows down every now and then, she quickly works her way back up to native-French speaker who forgets that she is not speaking to other native-French speakers but to American kids speed.

There's this dichotomy, you see, between the real world, and my world. In the real world, I have to ask the attendant at the train station to repeat himself when he tells me where to purchase my métro ticket. In my world, my professors, my host mother, and everyone affiliated with BU speaks nice and slowly. It's a trick. I understand my world perfectly, so I go out into the real world with confidence, only to find myself saying, "Pas si vite, s'il vous plaît." (Talk a little slower, please.) It's coming along. I went to the movies today with Trevor and Mark Anthony, and I understood without a problem. I go through waves of perfect comprehension and nearly perfect French, but then there are times when I can't wrap my tongue around the nasally syllables. Overall, though, I've improved quite a bit, both in conversation and comprehension.

Strangely enough, my favorite class is actually French. The professor has a great sense of humor that puts the class at ease. It will be a challenging course that will require me to polish my grammar, but I think I'll enjoy it. The same professor who teaches the French course also teaches the theatre half of my "Paris Aujourd'hui" class. (The class is divided into two sections. The first is a French theatre section, the second is dedicated to French cinema and music. It's perfect.)

In other news, I'm eating well. Tonight's dinner: roasted pork chops with a delicious gravy, pommes de terre (literal translation: apples of the earth, actual meaning: potatoes) and pommes de something (roasted apples with some sort of savory compote....it was pretty much a fête in my mouth), bread, salad with chèvre (goat cheese), and for dessert, chocolate mousse and homemade palmiers (it's a pretzel-shaped cookie topped with butter, sugar, and some other things). A couple days ago, my roommate and I bought some cheese and nutella, and ate it with baguettes and wine (cheese and nutella separate, of course). Our host mother said our dinner was très Parisien. I have yet to order something that doesn't taste good, with the exception of a tartine I had from a mediocre café.

My 30-minute walk to and from school each day (or most days, I should say) offsets the ridiculous amounts of carbs, cheese, and chocolate I have consumed in the past two weeks or so. Though it may be gray, Paris is certainly a walker's paradise. And though it may be gray, I must admit that I do like it here. I just wish the sun would show its face more often.