Dawn Xiana Moon: Intelligent folk pop with influences from jazz and traditional Chinese music. From Chicago.

Randomness Archives • Blogroll Me! • Atom XML Feed • RSS Feed

Saturday, June 28, 2003

La Fin du Voyage

Well, I've got 12 minutes to discuss the end of my time in Paris... yikes, I can't do it. The last month and a half have been incredible; I've been thought so many lessons and seen God work in so many ways, not to mention that I now have great friends from our team all over the country and some in France, Canada, and Switzerland. But it's not really the end of my time in Paris--I think I'm going to be back next May for around a year. Thus I'm going to have to do some major studying on my own in the next year: philosophy, history, art history, and French. Wouldn't it be great if when I came back my French would start out strong to begin with? Being able to speak another language opens up a new realm of people you can form relationships with. For all I love France, people are essentially the same everywhere; we dream the same dreams, fight the same fears--and even though every once in a while I still stop myself and think, "I'm right next to [insert your favorite Parisian monument here]!" when it all comes down to it, Paris for all its beauty is the same as anywhere else: a place filled with people who need to love and be loved.

I'll be back in Michigan on Sunday night.

^ Top | 8:03 AM | | |

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Traduction et Language

It's funny how some things seem totally normal in English but in translation present a slightly different picture, one you've never seen before. Familiarity breeds incognizance and languages are expressions of the ways different cultures percieve the world. Take the name Michaelangelo, for instance. The French translate his name as "Michel-Ange," literally Michael Angel. Bet you never thought about that in English. Another phrase that caught me off-guard was "nature morte," literally "dead nature," but the English translation is "still life." What our language sees as capturing a still, a photograph of vibrant life, in French carries the idea of death.

It's also scary how words can have connotations you don't intend or how a language can have gaps. Apparently, Parisians never use the French word for cheap; instead they say, "Ce n'est pas cher," or "It's not expensive." In light of the last entry I can see how this developed. Also, the actual verb for "to kiss" is vulgar and carries the connotation of having sex. The French instead use "embrasser," which can mean anything from hugging to kissing, and as far as I can tell there isn't another word for embracing or hugging, at least not one that's normally used. And never say, "Je suis excitée," unless you want people to think you're excited in a sexual way. Yikes.

Ah, the things you never learn in French class.

^ Top | 5:15 AM | | |

Monday, June 23, 2003

Statistiques

In the Average Week
Number of times ridden the Metro/RER (not including connections): 20
Number of times ridden the bus: 6
Bread eaten: 14

The Average Cost of Living
Keep in mind that 1 euro is around 1.20 US dollars.
Price of two scoops of ice cream at a stand: 4 euros
Price of a sundae at a restaurant: 6-7 euros
Price of a baguette: .90 euros
Price of a coffee drink at a cafe: 5 euros
Price of a chocolate-filled crepe: 2 euros
Price of regular coffee with cream: 2.50 euros

Most things are going to seem so cheap when I get back home....

^ Top | 5:14 PM | | |

Thursday, June 19, 2003

Sainte-Chapelle et les Arts

I can't believe I've only got a week and a half left in Paris. There's still so much to do--everything from old cathedrals to musuems to see, people from all over the world to talk to, French to practice... in the beginning I thought that over a month sounded like a long time, but it's not, even though I've only been in one city for that entire time. I think I need to come back for at least a few months or a year (there are more reasons to this than listed above, so if you want details ask me sometime).

One of the things I most appreciate about France is the love and wide availability of art: Parisians are interested in architecture, literature, and "high art," but even a walk in the Metro stations or on the streets finds musicians and performers in abundance. Last night as I was on my way to check email--unfortunately a failed trip since the internet cafe was closed--I saw a group of 20 college-aged kids playing jazz at Fountaine St. Michel; a few steps away I saw a crowd gathered around two artists creating work on the spot with spray paint (it's surprising how amazing their pictures turned out). Those are things you can find in any major city, but what you won't find in America are architectural wonders like Sainte-Chapelle, built by Louis IX to house relics of the Passion and prove French superiority.

While I was admiring the stained-glass windows in Sainte-Chapelle the thought occured to me that whether the result is pulp fiction or classical music, it's clear that human beings love to create. As Francis Schaeffer writes, "Being in the image of the Creator, we are called upon to have creativity. In fact, it is part of the image of God to be creative, or to have creativity. We never find an animal, non-man, making a work of art. On the other hand, we never find men anywhere in the world or in any culture in the world who do not produce art. All people are to some degree creative. Creativity is intrinsic to our mannishness.... [Artworks are] expressions of the nature and character of humanity." God, the supreme artist, enjoys creating beauty and even whimsy--why else a peacock's tail, the Swiss Alps, a duck-billed platypus? We as humans enjoy these things not because they have practical purpose, but because they capture our imaginations. And in imitation of God, we create ourselves; not out of nothing, as he does, but out of existing materials. We shape Notre Dame, the Venus de Milo, folksongs. We build l'Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower and skyscrapers and houses. The fact is that our creativity reflects the creator himself and the beauty we see, the beauty we make, reflects his beauty as well. Of course, we, being fallen, also reflect that in our art, in the agony of Rodin's sculptures and the fragmentation of Picasso's paintings; we are lost, we feel alone, we are reaching for something but fall short. But that too points to our Creator, to our knowledge that all is not as it should be. We are a broken, needy race but capable of such wonders at the same time. We are a thirsty people and only in him can that be satisfied. And then we will truly create beauty, free from the shackles of our falleness and sin.

^ Top | 9:15 AM | | |

Monday, June 16, 2003

Normandie

I think from now on I'm going to type these entries up on a friend's laptop in advance so I'm not constantly having to shorten entries because I'm running out of minutes at the internet cafe. But for the time being....

This weekend our group left for Normandy because more-or-less every hotel in Paris was booked for the Johnny Hallyday concert. I don't get it; the guy's old (we're talking probably 60 here, maybe more) and he's a huge sex symbol. It's scary. It was an anniversary concert and had been advertised for something like two years, so since we needed to leave our hotel anyway, we took a trip to Normandy and saw the monuments to World War II.

Americans are notorious for lacking a sense of history, but it's everywhere you look in France--every village, every city has a monument to the people who died in various wars, primarily WWI and WWII, not to mention ancient cathedrals and castles. With a half-hour summary of D-Day and its significance by my friend Nick, who was dubbed tour guide/professor for the trip, we had some time to walk around the beach, a museum, and the American cemetery. The American cemetery alone holds over 9000 graves--if I remember correctly, 40% of the men who died in the offensive--including soldiers "known only to God" (in other words, 300 unidenitified bodies). D-Day, June 6, 1944, is considered by many historians the turning point of the century. If it hadn't worked, the world would look very different today. Plaques in the area ask visitors to remember the price of liberty and the cost of freeing not only France, but all of Europe.

^ Top | 9:56 AM | | |

Monday, June 09, 2003

Deux Histories

I have a ton to say, as usual--I seriously save thoughts throughout the day for expounding on here--but I'll limit myself for time's sake to two stories, one American and one French.

American Story: The longer I'm here the more I realize that I'm not very American, at least in a typical way. Yesterday I went to Breakfast in America, a little diner that serves nothing but American breakfast food (disclaimer: I was only going in order to hang out with the 15 others who really wanted to go); the restaurant was busy so even though we got there at 1:45pm it took forever to get served and we didn't end up leaving until 4:15pm. Talk about killing an entire afternoon. And this not even counting the fact that the place is a good 30-45 minutes from the hotel (a figure that varies and can be longer, thanks to the strikes currently in progress; according to Let's Go France, the definition of un grève is "strike, French national pastime." You have no idea how true this is. But on with the story). Everyone at the restaurant was ecstastic about the food: "This was soooo worth the wait!" "My tummy is happy!" I kid you not, these are actual word-for-word quotations. I, however, was unimpressed--if you gave me 20 minutes, a kitchen, and some ingredients I could have made everything we ate and paid less than the 10 euros we forked over for the various omelettes, pancakes, toast, coffee, eggs, and bacon in petit portions. Many of these are the same kids who went crazy at McDonald's a couple of days ago. As I sat there, discontent, I just thought, I'm not very American. I hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, mac and cheese, and hot dogs. I'm not a fan of burgers either. In France, doesn't it make sense to try to eat French food? In any foreign country, for that matter.

French Story: Two days ago I was at a cafe with my friend Priscilla, also known as my twin, for an afternoon of writing letters, reading, talking, and spending some time with God. Priscilla had been praying that she would be able to have a good conversation with a French person at the cafe, and God definitely answered: that person ended up being our waiter, a sweet 50-year-old man. It all started when I asked for some cream. When he returned with the cream, Monsieur le Serveur started looking at what we were writing; we were both journaling, writing what were essentially prayers. Priscilla allowed him to read one of her journal entries--one in French--and he asked us to pray for him, totally out of the blue. Then he left and we did. Priscilla then prayed that he would have the courage to come back and talk to us some more, which he soon did, asking us in French to write him three nice lines, a prayer. Laughing as he left, Priscilla took out a postcard she had in her bag and wrote a note to him on one half. I wrote the three-line prayer for him on the other, asking God to bless him and show him how much he loves him. Then our waiter came back and with a pad of paper wrote that his name was Robert and asked again for the three lines--I think he thought we weren't going to take him seriously or didn't understand--but we'd already written them, so we handed the postcard to him. Robert loved it. He left again and came back to the table with a pitcher of ice water (VERY rare in France) for the "nice girls". He was really sweet. After we paid, we left him a French Bible with some passages highlighted that we liked as a gift, so he can perhaps discover the hope that we have in Jesus for himself. I hope he reads it. God definitely has a sense of humor.

^ Top | 9:01 AM | | |

Friday, June 06, 2003

Danser sur le Métro

Well, time is short since I'm meeting people for dinner in a 15 minutes, but I thought I'd write something anyway. I've been talking about French culture for the last week or so, and a couple of important aspects of this in Paris are the Metro (subway) and street performers. These two aspects merged last night as our group was on our way back from hanging out at the park at the foot of the Eiffel Tower (which, I may add, was awesome: we played silly games, ate pizza, and sang worship songs together in a group of around 55 people). There was a man on the train playing the accordion--yes, you read that right, on the train itself--we've seen everything from old French guys rapping to a puppet show to saxophone players literally on the trains. Anyway, most of us were in a great mood and feeling crazy. So led by myself, Priscilla (my twin--it's scary), and Randy, we started dancing and continued to do so for the next few stops. Imagine a bunch of college students attempting to salsa and just move in the two-foot space between seats to an accordion playing with synthesized background music. What fun.

^ Top | 11:59 AM | | |

Monday, June 02, 2003

Des Grandes et Des Petites Choses

More thoughts on the differences between Paris and the US: size. Most things in Paris come in smaller sizes, from bathrooms to hotel rooms to portions. We're in a budget hotel; clean, but the rooms are the closet-sized: maybe three or four feet between the bed and the window and another three feet between the bed and the door, if that gives you any idea. No closets, just 18 inches of coat rack underneath the bunk bed. Portions: food is usually more expensive and comes in smaller portions, but most of it tastes better (bread and fruits especially). You can buy fruit from stands along the streets--actually, you buy most things from stores of that size since there aren't many supermarkets--and as far as we can tell, they pick the fruit when it's actually ripe instead of green. Yum.

I was talking to a girl from Luxembourg at lunch today and she mentioned that everything in France seems large to her; an American has an entirely different experience. Today was also the first time I found someone who didn't like Paris: a Chinese business student. And I used to think you'd find mostly French people in Paris....

^ Top | 9:43 AM | | |