Up at 6:15. Suzie puts the coffee on and we wait until we hear that lovely sound of the last bit of water in the reservoir being coughed into the grounds. Lie in bed awhile reading the French paper from yesterday. Finally the coffee kicks in and we try to get Will out of bed. As will be the subject of a later post, both of the boys are handling their new French schools incredibly well. But it's very tiring for them, and Will balks at getting up at such an early hour (he has to get out, take the Metro -- with a transfer, and get to school by 8:00 a.m.). Eventually he rouses and Suzie and I shower and get ready for our classes.
We are both taking classes at the Alliance Francaise in Paris. Mine is four hours per day, 5 days a week, Suzie's currently is 3 hours a day 3 times a week. More about my class in a bit.
Get dressed (I've finally ceded the high ground and started wearing jeans in Paris, at which point, of course, I notice that tons of people in Paris, and not just tourists, wear jeans), and head out the door. Press the button to call the little elevator from the ground floor up to ours on the 5th (in France) or the 6th (in the U.S.) floor. This is the elevator that trapped the children between floors during our first week here (I dare say that they had something to do that, but that's another story) and which routinely stops working for certain periods of time. So it's always a toss up as to whether to call the elevator and take the risk, or walk down the spiral staircase that wraps around the elevator shaft, which carries with it its own risk (there is something almost hypnotic about walking downstairs in a spiral; by the end it is very easy to take a misstep). But today I'm feeling lucky, and the elevator works fine, taking me down to the lobby. Push the buttons to open the heavy wooden interior and exterior doors, and step out onto the sidewalk. The air is cool and fresh, and the sidewalk full of people walking to the Metro or away from the Metro. Turn right and walk the block or so to the Alesia Metro station.
At the top of the stairs leading down to the trains there is a stack of a free paper called "20 Minutes," so named because it's designed to be read during a 20-minute Metro ride, and containing not much more than 20 minutes worth of content (even I don't take much longer than that to go through the whole thing). This morning, this story caught my eye:
Métro: un chien perturbe le trafic sur la ligne 13 pendant une heure
Un chien sème la pagaille sur la ligne 13, lundi matin. Le trafic a été interrompu entre 7h30 et 8h49 entre les stations La Fourche et Saint-Denis Université à cause de la présence d'un chien sur la voie au niveau de la station Guy Môquet, a précisé la RATP à 20minutes.fr.
«Le courant a été coupé et les pompiers cynophiles sont descendus sur la voie pour le chercher», a-t-elle ajouté. Ils l'ont finalement récupéré une heure plus tard.
La ligne 13 est une des plus fréquentées du réseau. Elle traverse la capitale du nord au sud.
You have to love this. A dog gets on the Metro tracks right in the middle of rush hour and they shut down the line for an hour until he (or she) can be retrieved. A beautiful thing to contemplate, really.
Wait on the quai for the train to come. The quai is filling up with people quickly. Alesia is a very well-used, well-traveled metro station; there are always a lot of folks getting on and off the trains there. The train comes shortly (it's never more than 3 or 4 minutes), and it's already fairly full, but I manage to snag one of the one remaing seats. As is usual, the train is uncomfortably hot, and the cars do not appear to have any way to circulate air, other than opening the small vents at the top of the windows. The stops go by one-by-one, a few people getting on, more people getting on -- Mouton-Duvernet; Denfert Rochereau; Raspail; Vavin; Montparnasse-Bienvenue (a big, big station, often transfers take almost as long as the ride itself); and finally Saint-Plaicide, a block and a half away from the Alliance Francaise. I've gotten used to the etiquette of the Metro, which is similar to that of most big cities -- don't talk, don't look, but be polite and let old ladies and men have your seat. It's gotten to seem very familiar.
The Alliance Francaise is located on Boulevard Raspail, a pretty street in a moderately nice area in the 6th arrondissement, a few blocks west of the Luxembourg Gardens. It's situated in two buildings, an elegant older building fronting Raspail, and a newer, less-charming building on the Rue de Fleurus. The latter holds only classrooms, and the rest of the facilities (as well as a few classrooms) are in the former. It is a very comfortable, well-appointed facility, with a very good (and inexpensive) cafeteria and a good library. It feels very much like a building on the grounds of a small liberal arts college.
I always head to the cafeteria for an espresso before class. Suzie has been taking to walking there in the mornings, so she's already there ahead of me, having a latte. I'm running a little late so I just say hi to her and go on to my class, in the Fleurus building.
Taking French classes has been one of the biggest pleasures of this time in Paris. Not only has the process of learning French been intellectually interesting (as well as emotionally satisfying, as my level has increased), but I have had the opportunity to meet and interact with people from all over the world. Most of them are younger, which makes them a bit more interesting (perhaps) and lively (certainly). In my current class I have a young woman from Venezula, a young man from Argentina, a slightly older man from Russia (although he is ethnically Asian), two young women from China, a middle-aged woman from Japan, a young woman from Brazil, and a young woman from Iran (I think, although she seems awfully Westernized for someone from Iran, but then what do I really know about that), a young woman from Germany, and a young woman from Spain. Since a lot of the classwork is done in small groups, there is a lot of opportunity to interact, and it is interesting and rewarding to work with and connect with someone while using a language that is not native to either person.
In addition, there's something about the setting or the situation that is very conducive to connecting to people quickly and in a deeper way than you would think would be the case after interacting for only a short time. I've made a number of friends with whom I still communicate by phone and e-mail, even though they've returned to their native countries. How long that will last, who knows, but that it happens at all is very cool. Just today, before my class, the woman I sat next to in my class last week (an intelligent and interesting young woman from Germany, who moved on to a somewhat more difficult class) happened to see me at the same time I happened to see her, and the feeling was like two old friends meeting again. As I said, it is interesting and rewarding and broadening and intellectually challenging in addition to being just plain fun.
Class today wasn't particularly interesting (various and sundry uses of the pronouns "y" and "en", along with some painful, painful phonetics lessons), but I did have the opportunity to work with one of the women from China, who was obviously more comfortable speaking English than French, and who had a very cool small electronic dictionary that caused the electronics-envying part of me to wake up. She ended up being a perfectly charming and fun work partner, although the exercise was not particularly interesting to me or to her.
After class ended at 1 p.m., I did something unusual. Suzie had located a native French speaker on Craigslist Paris for the purpose of exchanging conversation in the two different languages, so I put a listing on also, and had a response from a woman with a legal background, which I thought would be interesting to hear about. She had suggested meeting at 2:30 at a cafe right on the Place de la Bastille, so I had some time to kill before then. I took the Metro up a couple of stops to St. Germain-des-Pres, found a Monoprix store (these are somewhat strange [to me] combinations of a clothing store and a grocery store, with pretty good food) and bought a sandwich and a soda, then found a bench to eat and drink them on while watching the people go by. Then back on the Metro, transferring at my least favorite station (Chatelet, always crowded and stuffy and with long, long walks between lines) before finally getting off at Bastille. I was, as usual, 30 minutes early, so I found a bench and did my homework to pass the time. At 2:30 I went to the cafe and figured out pretty shortly who my conversation partner was by the way she was looking for someone that she didn't really know.
She turned out to be a very good conversation partner, her English and my French being pretty much on par (she's a little better). Like many Parisiens, she comes from an interesting background -- an Algerian father and a Serbian mother, although she was born and raised in Paris. We talked about various and sundry things -- the study of law in France, French and American politics, schools, her job, my job, California, etc., etc. I told her that I think that Suzie would be a good partner for her also, so I suspect we may all get together next time. Again, it is very gratifying to be able to have a conversation with someone in French, and actually be able to understand and communicate (it's also fun to play English teacher a little bit; learning French has made me realize just how incredibly competent I am in my own language, without ever really trying).
The Metro ride home seemed long, as I took a different route that required two transfers, and when I got home I was tired. Suzie is working on a project, Andrew was sick today and stayed home from school, Will had a good day learning French. I'd tell you about my and Andrew's trip to the grocery store and our experience with the French self-service checkout, but I'm out of steam. Finally, as a treat to all of us, Suzie's father is coming to Paris, arriving tomorrow morning.
I probably don't have to say this (not again, I'm sure you thinking), but I love it here. I thought this would be a good experience, and up to now it has greatly surpassed my expectations. Sometimes still I can't really believe I'm here, that this is my life for now, that I'm a Metro commuter, that I'm a Parisien. Incredible.
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