Tuesday, February 10

I went to sample some classes today, and, as it turns out, they were cancelled because the teachers are on strike!! Vive la France.

Sunday, February 8-Monday, February 9

On Sunday I moved to my third (and, hopefully, final) home, still in the Marais. I live with an extremely nice French girl who works for Chloe (yes, Chloe!!!). She loves fashion, Sex & the City, and introduced me to Nutella sushi at a place next door (we are going to be fast friends ;). The neighborhood is near the Place des Vosges and trendy shops and boutiques, but still has a neighborhood-y, park-like atmosphere to it, with lots of trees, and a fresh fruit-and-vegetable market on weekends!

On Monday, I met up with a girl who is in a dual-degree program with American University and Universite Paris-X. She studied for two years at American, and two years at Paris-X, and this May will receive her degree in both French AND American law. Despite the fact that there are no other exchange students in my study abroad program this semester, I still take classes with these dual-degree students, and she was able to give me some much-needed solace and encouragement (Yes, it is possible! No, you probably (eek! see below) won't fail your exams!) about the French university system and the program in general. It turns out that of ALL the places she could live in Paris, she lives just around the corner from me! We met up at my new favorite cafe, called Cafe Creme, where she often studies for classes and which (thankfully) has a wifi internet connection. 

Some facts about French law school as compared to American law school:

- Most of my classes are populated with 22-23-year-olds, as law is an undergraduate AND a master's degree here;

-At the beginning of the semester, I have the opportunity to decide whether I want to take my exams orally or written ("travaux diriges"). The written option is a three-hour-long exam, and requires written, mandatory assignments throughout the semester. The oral option is only 15 minutes long, and entails having a discussion with the professor about the topic. Every administrator I talked to suggested I take the oral option, so the professor can have the requisite amount of pity for me as an international student with a language barrier;

-Professors here are not as generous doling out A-and B-equivalents as in the US, and at least 30-40% of French students FAIL their exams! When that happens, students are required to return in September for their "rattrapage" (roughly: re-take) and the new grade completely cancels the old!

-The magic of "la moyenne:" French grading is on a scale of 1-20; 10 = passing. If a student gets two 8s and two 12s for four classes, he or she has NOT failed two classes! Because the "average" of all FOUR classes is a 10, the student gets credit for ALL four classes, despite the fact that he/she technically failed two exams. This encourages some students to solely focus on one, stronger class, in an effort to "bootstrap" the other 2 or 3 classes into passing grades.

-There are NO required readings NOR required textbooks! Students study mostly from notes (which it is why it is so important for me, as an international student, to befriend diligent students and ask them for note supplements where I haven't comprehended something), and most "suggested" reading can be obtained from the library!

-When I asked when professor office hours are, she just laughed. Professors don't do that here! There's usually a long line of students trailing the professor at the end of lecture in an attempt to cram in every question. Professors do NOT make themselves available to students outside of class in France.

(Above, counter-clockwise from top left): My street; my new neighborhood; Cafe Creme (my new go-to cafe); and Stephanie, my savior and mentor - at our rendez-vous, she also introduced me to the BEST chocolat fondant, featured in the photo, and crepe stand in our neighborhood !!)

Saturday, February 7

On Saturday, Michelle, Brittany and I met up at Galeries Lafayette, my favorite "grand magasin" (department store) in Paris, where I purchased my beautiful new Manoush coat for 60% off due to the twice-yearly "soldes," or sales. I couldn't wait to take them up to one of my favorite spots in Paris, the cafe at the top of Galeries, with a beautiful view over the Paris Opera Garnier and the Eiffel Tower, in the distance. (Above, left).

We couldn't resist the new "trend:" parachute pants (above, right).

So now everyone knows that my ulterior motive for taking the girls to Galeries Lafayette instead of the other department stores was for the gelato. One word: FABulous! (Above, center).

And finally, me in front of Galeries' window display that day: a man playing jazz just inside the window. (Above, top).

Friday, February 6

Hilarious story: on Friday, I met up with an Italian girl, Erika, and a French girl, Magali, at a cafe on the Champs-Elysees. They were looking for someone to rent their third bedroom, which was being vacated by an English girl who was taking a new job in London. I had visited the apartment that week, and although it was a bit further from the center of Paris, it was beautiful and in a safe location, right near the metro. I thought that living with two foreign girls my age would possibly expand my circle of friends and lend even more international flavor to my exchange.

By the time I arrived at the cafe, it was bustling, loud, and crowded, and Magali and Erika had already been seated. Since neither party knew what the other looked like, we were frantically texting each other our respective locations in an attempt to reunite - without success. Finally, I frustratedly wrote: "Blonde hair. Purple scarf. Near the bar in the center," hoping they would spot me and usher me to their table. Several minutes passed, with no response. Finally, I walked over to the other side of the cafe and spotted two girls trying to muffle hysterical, escaping laughter. "Magali? Erika? It's Suzanne. What happened?" I questioned, hoping I was right this time (to avoid scaring the wrong people away.) "OH MY GOD," they laughed, and I waited as they attempted to compose themselves. "We thought you were *her,*" they said, pointing. Immediately to their right was an obese drag queen, ostentatiously made-up with false eyelashes, platforms, and fishnets. And what was she wearing, but a platinum-blonde wig and a purple feather boa. "We were never going to use Craiglist to find a roommate again!" They had been plotting ways to gracefully escape.

Tuesday, February 3 - Thursday, February 5

(above: photos from the Marais)

I arrived at the Italian couple's abode in the Marais at 10 pm., after cramming my belongings into a cab for my second move in one day. It wouldn't be my last: shortly after arriving there, the Italian woman informed me that she would be leaving for India for 2 months, and would not return until April. (!!!) Needless to say, that evening I started looking for my third, and, I hoped, permanent, place to live. 

The next morning, I went to the International Relations office at l'Universite Paris-X Nanterre, hoping for some guidance. From the beginning, I'd known this semester abroad would be unlike my summer studying French in Grenoble, France after junior year of college.  Far from the hand-holding and organized field trips the Universities of Michigan and Stendhal had organized, this time around, I was completely on my own. L'Universite Paris-X had sent me a lone "Guide de l'Etudiant International" (International Student Guide) and a sheet of paper detailing when I could report to the International Relations office - and that was it. No orientation, no hand-holding, and definitely no organized field trips. As far as I knew, there weren't even any other students in my exchange program, which I'd found through American University's School of Law. American operates a "bilateral exchange" program with l'Universite Paris-X in which students from that law school (or visiting students from other law schools) can enroll directly in the Universite Paris-X, taking law courses *in French,* alongside other French and international students. This is what had appealed to me: I finally had the opportunity to combine law school with my French background, and return to my beloved Paris. Yet the uniqueness of the program has also turned out to be its downfall: there aren't many other students who have the requisite level of French AND who want to use it to fill a semester-long law school study-abroad program. 

When I arrived at the International Relations office, I was informed that they had lost my "dossier" ("file"), and that I would have to return the next day. Meanwhile, the office supplied  the name of l'Universite Paris-X's Law School's international exchange coordinator, who would (I thought) finally explain the program and help me pick my classes. Instead, in typical French fashion, I was told to return on Thursday, and hurried out the door with only a packet of current course offerings.

I returned to the International Relations office on Wednesday, as promised, and was finally able to get my Universite Paris-X student identity card, which I needed to register for classes the next day. But upon arriving at the law school that Thursday, I was told I could only register conditioned upon my fixing the "error" on my student identity card. The international exchange coordinator had been new, and was unfamiliar with my diploma (bilateral exchange students may receive a diploma in European and International Law). I was thus told to trek back to the International Relations Office, on the other side of campus, to correct the error. I arrived back in the International Relations Office only to be told that they could not "correct" the "error" until they had proof that I was in my stated degree program. (I was thinking, "isn't the fact that I'm here proof enough??" Apparently not.) Thus I had to return to the law school empty-handed, and was made to register for courses on a provisional basis (conditioned upon receiving proof of my enrollment in the stated degree program). 

That evening, I met up at Cafe de Flore in St. Germain-des-Pres with two other American girls who had just arrived in Paris. We "met" each other online, having emailed each other with housing leads (after responding to the same Craiglist housing ad). Alas, while we were unable to find housing together, we decided to meet up anyway, as none of us knew anyone in Paris. It turned out that our mutual love of 80s music, Madonna, and crepes was a match made in heaven. We ended up talking for four hours that evening: I can't wait to introduce them to the Paris I know and love.

Brittany just graduated from the University of California-San Diego, and is working at a small Paris film festival, a prelude to the May Cannes film festival. Michelle graduated from law school in 2007 and has been working as a Federal Transportation fellow in Washington, D.C., for the past year. She recently had the opportunity to relocate to Paris for a few months, and unreservedly took the opportunity. 

first day: Monday, February 2

February 2, 2009

Paris greeted me last Monday morning with a fresh coat of snow. I shared a taxicab with a girl from Los Angeles who was meeting her sister and mother for a weeklong Parisian vacation. Imagine her delight as she encountered both Paris, and snow, for the first time. The Champs-Elysees was frosted a luminous shimmering white, as if it had known and readied itself for my re-arrival almost three years later. I was ready, or so I thought: in a place where cultivating one's image has been transformed into almost an art form, I had the "de rigueur" flat, leather boots (chic but good for navigating Paris' cobblestones) and multitude of patterned scarves with which Parisian women accessorize their monochromatic outfits. I had learned from almost 7 months here that Parisian women wear out one or two beautiful, high-quality basics - leather boots, well-tailored coat, expensive bag - instead of splurging on a plethora of lower-quality items.

I had initially asked to be dropped off at a studio in the 16th arrondissement - a residential, bourgeois neighborhood in the west of Paris (think Upper East Side or Grosse Pointe - families and old ladies with pooches and brooches). The studio was a former "chambre de bonne" - maid's quarters with a separate entrance - common to the stately Haussmanian mansions that populate the 16th and 8th arrondissements. I had arranged a rendez-vous with the American owner for 9 am that morning, but the snow made it impossible to arrive on time, and the Spanish "guardienne" of the building ("guardian" or "superintendent") gave me my keys instead. The studio had a beautiful view of the Paris rooftops and Eiffel Tower, but somehow felt as if it had been abandoned for quite some time. I couldn't exactly say why I didn't feel at home there - perhaps it was that I felt a bit empty arriving in an apartment where no one was expecting me. I learned something about myself that day: I had initially thought living alone in a studio would be exciting and exhilarating, but it turned out that in a city where I no longer knew anyone, I needed *someone* - even a stranger - to await my arrival. Thus, I called an Italian couple with whom I had been exchanging emails prior to my arrival to ask if they still had an extra bedroom, and after tediously re-packing my belongings, had the Spanish guardienne hail me a cab to the Italian couple's duplex in "Le Marais," an artsy and eclectic neighborhood crammed with fashionistas, creative types, and vintage boutiques. . . . 

(View outside 16th arrondissement studio, at the top)