Getting Lost in Paris: Fun? I think not.

Translation: "Have you found my guitar? Call me." Sorry buddy.

Over the past few days I've been fairly busy working or doing various activities. Everything was running smoothly, I wasn't getting too homesick or overwhelmed by the idea of being here for a year. Then yesterday happened. It started bad and got worse. The thing is, it really wasn't much different than any other day. I had the whole day off so I was going to go by the school, enroll, walk around a little, maybe shop, and then head over to Montmartre, pick up some sewing supplies, etc. The first hitch was lack of internet. Just so you know, in a foreign country you MUST have internet to know what to do; you need some peanut butter, you map the buses to the nearest peanut butter location(the nearest is in the US in case you were wondering); you want to go the museum, you find the stop on the map and the metro stop online; you want a movie, you go crazy because they are three times the price. But here's the thing, I wanted internet so I spent a whole lot of time just trying to find the hotspots. When I finally figured out how to get to the school I ended up walking most of the way there after being repeatedly denied access to the metro by the navigue pass scanner. Once I had walked far beyond the correct street(and carrying my laptop in hopes of finding one of these hotspots) and nearly ended up crossing the river a second time, I found the school. The moment I walked in they told me I did not need to be there until the 10th. Okay, thank you for answering the phone one of the twelve times I called.

So then I went to find the hotspot. It turned out to be a McDonalds. Not wanting to commit travel suicide I avoided it, walking to the next hotspot which turned out to be a little bar. Bars are not something I really have a lot of experience in, especially in France....and I'm still not 21. As I'm walking along I notice something familiar about the street. I had been lost there on Monday...oh dear. So I finally reconciled myself to the mcDonalds. It was jam packed and after forcing my way in I found that the only way to order was to say "Beeg Mahk". Turns out they did have internet but no outlet. So after a little while I decided to go to Montmartre where the tourists are heavy(who wears a shirt that says "I heart Paris" when they are actually IN Paris?) and the patience light.

I find that when you know the words in French they like to pretend you were speaking in English, but when you don't know and really need their help they just kind of look at you blankly.

I bought a few things at a notions store. One of my purchases, an average size spool of cream colored thread---10 euros. Ten euros, thats sixteen dollars. Honestly I have never paid more than three or four. I was about to have a fit, "Dix euro? Ce qoui!" The girl looked at me coldly as if to say "what? you don't have ten euros?" Yeah, I have ten euros but I'm going to buy five sweaters made in China and support a third world family for a month on it. Geez people, since when did sewing become like golf, a hobby of the rich and privileged.

Next I stopped to find some patterns. "Le Simplicity sept trois un zero" I said, in perfectly understandable French. "What size?" she responded, in less understandible English. "Thirty-eight" I replied, defeatedly. "Thats size 10, American" she added patronisingly, "I know." Give me some credit. When someone speaks English to me I don't go and try to respond in French on them.

When I went to a Wednesday night meeting with some people for church I made some grave bus navigating mistakes and ended up walking a mile or so to get there. Fortunately it was well worth it and someone drove me home. So I'm really looking forward to church on Sunday. At church there's no sign of the French rudeness that really gets on my nerves. Everyone is happy to see you and interested in how you are doing. It's really wonderful.

One last thing on French culture. I had this idea that an American might get along without the bisou(kiss on both cheeks), that it may not be entirely obligatory. Well I was wrong. You walk in a room and if you don't kiss every single person in the room as hello you've committed a little social crime. You leave, you kiss everyone again. Sometimes when you first meet someone you don't do it, you can shake hands. But last night someone came right up and kissed me before I had even met them. It's one of those personal space things. The bisou is opposite of American culture. We like our personal space, invasion is disliked and unconfortable. I mean, when we stand in lne we give the person in front a good two to ten feet of room. Here it's like everyone is breathing down your neck. That was the first thing I noticed getting in line to get on the plane to Paris. Some French guy came up and sat right on the back of my seat. Maybe it's because I'm from the midwest and not a big city but I say "excuse me" when I bump someone or pass close by them. Here it's eyes straight in front and no acknowledgement. But with the bisou, it's not like shaking hands, it's not semi optional, it's constant. It's still a little weird to me when it's two guys. They walk up to eachother to say hello and it's not a hug or a hand shake but a kiss on both cheeks. But it's cool....I still don't really initiate it.