mon beau sapin // my beautiful christmas tree

Happy new year!

...oh hey, it's also a new decade. How about that.

Many apologies for my long absence. I had friends visiting, and then I was traveling, and then I was run over by a truck, and then...

Just kidding on that last part. But I really was traveling! A monstrous post or two about my adventures in Rome and Venice is forthcoming. I promise.

In any case, I hope that the holidays have been good to you all. And that you spent it happy and warm, surrounded by family and friends.

On that note, did you know that I spent Christmas at a chateau in France?

The crèche. The family is Catholic, so this is pretty traditional, from what I surmise.

Before you get too jealous, though, known that I am still trying to decide whether it would've been more awkward to be the lone American amongst 160 French aristocrats (as I expected), or as the lone stranger amongst my host family's immediate family (what actually happened). The lowest moment of my Christmas séjour might have been when we were discussing Christmas traditions and my host mother mentioned that Christmas is a time that the French typically only spend with their closest, most immediate family members. Cue the awkward music.

And so it was that I spent Noël with Madame, Monsieur, their four children, their children's spouses, and their four grandchildren.

French Christmas trees, even aristocratic ones, are not as big.

Some highlights and lowlights:

1. I wasn't expecting presents, as it was way more than enough that they'd invited me to their chateau and fed me delicious French food for four days. But they got me books! In French, bien sûr. Madame said that it was to help me with my French. On a somewhat related note, I am currently working on A Thousand Splendid Suns // Mille Soleils Splendides in French; I have never read the English version.
2. The entire du P. family is extremely photogenic. Despite the fact that I felt like an ugly duckling 20 out of the 24 hours of the day, I think I spent my days in a dazed stupor, wondering how I was allowed into their company. Holy shit.
3. I ate a lot of good food. A lot. Oysters and beef ragu and foie gras. I think that foie gras might be the first French dish that I do not like. I had such high expectations for it, too! When the time came to eat it, everyone cut these huge pieces and put them on their plate. I, of course, followed suit. Except that it was possibly the richest thing that I have ever put into my mouth, and I had such difficulty swallowing it (no jokes here, please). I know that it was just me, too, since it was an old family recipe and everyone else loved it. But to the Asian in me, it tasted just like pure, unadulterated fat.
4. On a side note, I had the worst tiramisu ever. Someone had made it and added crème de marrons and used langues de chat instead of ladyfingers. As a result, the chestnut flavor was overpowering and there was no discernable pastry anywhere. Oh well.
5. If the chateau didn't make it obvious, then I will say it here: the du. P is extremely rich and blue-blooded. In the running for the Second Most Awkward Moment: everyone, including me, was sitting in the salon, when Madame says the following to her three daughters and one daughter-in-law, "Come to the kitchen. I just took out some old gold pieces that I want to pass on to you." Um.
6. That said, I was very surprised by the level of restraint that I saw. I guess it's because they're old money that they're not very ostentatious? The majority of the gifts were books and things that showed a lot of thought and care and not necessarily costly. I mean, there were the random opera tickets and necklaces, but still. I did notice the consumerism that seems to drive most of America. I'm just generalizing, of course.
   
7. The grandchildren are very well-loved, smart, and well-behaved. In short, not me. The smart and well-behaved part, I mean. This made playing with them so much easier. Not to add that it's much less awkward for me to play with children than to interact with French Strangers That I Don't Really Know But Am Celebrating Noël With Anyway. J. is 6, and she has two little brothers: C. (3), and F. (8 months). There is another grandchild, C. (6 months). And they are all so cute. Soooo cute. I think I am now known as the emergency babysitter, hahahaha.

I didn't take many photos, mainly because it's So Weird to take photos of a place that someone actually lives in. And the fact that Noël, while awesome, was also incredibly awkward for me as a Random Stranger from the States. The chateau is located near Dreux, in Normandy. It has its own postcard. Ask me to show it to you sometime.

That said, this was the view from my window. At the chateau.

To come: posts about New Year's in Paris, adventures in Rome and Venice, and the requisite places to visit should you ever find yourself in Paris.

elles passent en un instant // they pass by in an instant

My host family took me to see Gorki's Les Enfants du Soleil / Children of the Sun / whatever the title is in Russian the other the other night. It was kind of a last-minute thing where they were like, "Thao, tu veux aller au théâtre avec nous ce soir?" And I was like, "OF COURSE I want to go to the theatre with you!"

So I still didn't know what it was about when I got to the theater. I'm proud to say that I understood most of what was happening (sort of), even if I failed to understand the overall theme. I can't tell whether it's because Gorki is complicated or because I fail at French. Probably a mixture of both.

It was so interesting for me to look at the kind of people that were at the play, though. A friend of mine once made a comment about how "straight guys just don't get that excited about operas"/plays. I guess that they do in France? There was your standard group of older folks, but there were also A LOT of couples out for a date that night. And these kids were probably still in high school/college.

M. from Middlebury once asked (rather rhetorically, I guess) what the French people do for fun. Yes, there is the party scene, and yes, there is the trashy American TV shows. But for the most part, I've noticed that the French are very well-cultured. I think it's due to the fact that cultural stuff is so readily available in Paris.

France is very centralized; Paris is the center for everything: government, arts, culture, etc. And it is so incredibly cheap for students. My host mom told me that with things like operas and plays, students can go for a significantly cheaper price than can adults. With a student identity card, museums are free (or almost free).

It's a very good business and cultural model, I think. By making cultural stuff so readily accessible to students, you expose them to it at an early age. And by the time they grow up, get jobs, and earn money, they'll be more likely to be willing to pay. In the US, I feel like operas and ballets give off this impression of being more high class and expensive than it really should be. I know that I have never been tempted to go to an opera in the US, for example.

But yeah, just something to think about.

de la bouche du metro // from the mouth of the metro

Between today and yesterday, I learned all manner of things:

1. The sex district of which I spoke of is in le 9è arrondissement--only about a ten-minute walk away from my house. This is good to know, I guess, should I ever have a need for taking sketchy pictures ("Mom! Dad! Guess where I am?!") Or should there ever be an affaire between myself and a Frenchman, I will know where to get us sex toys and lacy lingerie. Additionally, I like to culture myself--the erotic museum will surely accomplish that.
2. Frenchmen are incredibly feminine. I really love them only for their accents. There have been two instances so far when I have thought that someone was a woman until he opened his mouth. When I mentioned the lacy lingerie in No. 1, I was not necessarily implying that I would be the one to wear it.
3. Despite their Eurotrashy tendency to wear pants that are tighter than my own, Frenchmen still occupy some sort of pedestal on my head. Being hit on by Frenchmen in the sketchy part of town feels just as greasy as being hit on by Mexicans in downtown Los Angeles, and yet, on some level, it feels somewhat classier. Maybe it's because it is done in French.
4. I have a pretty good head for direction...sort of. I can't really understand why or how I am learning the layout of Paris so much faster when I never could deal with New York City. Paris is not straight city blocks, but narrow streets of quaint charm and occasionally, understated elegance.
5. I must be pathetic, because I have a phobia of appearing touristlike and so am embarrassed to whip out my camera and take pictures. But no worries, I will get over myself soon. In any case, it's been really overcast/raining the last two days--I tried taking pictures today and it started pouring a minute later. Pictures of Little India will come when I manage to find it again, and I promise that you guys will have photographic evidence the next time I go to Les Champs-Elysées or L'Arc de Triomphe.
   
6. I am going to get completely spoiled in Paris. And also as fat as a tub of lard. I've been pretty good, but soon I am going to give in to the tempting calls and smells of the four boulangerie-patîsseries and two marchés within five minutes from my apartment. Foodgasm.

Madame and Monsieur are an old couple living near the border of the 8th and the 17th. I was under the impression that they were both retired, but apparently Madame still goes to work on certain days of the week. They both come from large families, and have four children of their own. I have already met several of their children and grandchildren.

The Du P. family is incredibly photogenic. Every single one of them could be models. Even the ones that married into the family. The grandchildren are the cutest beings in the world--they are the sort that makes you go, "Babies! I want one!" upon seeing them. There is one woman who had given birth to three children and still had a flat stomach. I just don't understand how Frenchwomen are so svelte. Also, Madame might be close to being a retiree, but I'm pretty sure that she is more sophisticated and fashionable than I am. By far.

Madame and Monsieur are incredibly nice and accommodating. Madame makes it a point to ask me how my day is and what I did. When I ask her for suggestions, she always has a lot of recommendations for me. Monsieur is a little quieter, but fiercely intelligent. I really enjoy talking to him about current events. I have also promised to show him how Skype works.

They have spent time in the States, so they know English well enough to give me some help when I stutter for too long. I adore them.

I find myself dealing with a weird dichotomy. During the day, it is French French French, and I feel my language skills really improving. At night, simply due to the blog or friends and family, I speak a lot of English, and then it feels like I am not. I don't know if I actually am, but it's an interesting thought/realization. Maybe you guys will just have to suffer through more of my sprinkled-in French, both in blogs and in talk. I feel better when I add in random French, comme si I am making more of an effort or something. It's probably the "or something."

It's only been two days, but...Paris, je t'aime.