Charlotte was born in Lausanne (Switzerland), but moved to the US when she was young. So, French is her first language, but she switched to speaking English when she was pretty young. She's bilingual, though, no doubt about that. Her father still lives in Lausanne with her half-sisters, and her mom lives in Boston, so Charlotte spends her life traveling a triangle of Boston to Princeton to Lausanne. This summer, Princeton is paying for her to do a month-long German course in Zurich (she is dying to have a Swiss-german accent), which is in July. She came for June to spend time with her dad, and also took a side-trip to London for a few days.
This trip was only about 48 hours long, but jam packed with stereotypically French behavior, aka we spent a lot of time in cafés having literary discussions over very small coffees. Espresso, I should say. In any case, before Charlotte got here, I had lunch with my friend Alice. Alice, for some background, was the daughter of one of the professors of the Avignon program I did last summer (not one of my professors—he taught an economics course, which I obviously steered clear of). She's 19 and just finished her first year of prépa, the preparatory classes the smartest French students do after high school to prepare them for direct admission into Grandes Écoles. Her goal is to go to the ENS here in Paris, which I wholeheartedly support because if she succeeds, she and I will be there at the same time (the year after next)! Anyway, she studies literature, so she is doing a prépa called the "hypokhâgne." Since she passed this year, next year will be called the "khâgne." It's a very strange, yet fancy way to say she is only studying "lettres"—literature, languages, philosophy, history. It's a background I am definitely envious of, considering it's absolutely necessary to study literature well; but the prépa itself sounds like a nightmare. During our lunch and subsequent Berthillon ice cream, she recounted stories that were reminiscent of certain parts of my study abroad courses, but worse. Professors who just try to shame students, extremely competitive classmates who write down all of the students' grades (since the mean profs read them all out loud, of course), and an impossible amount of reading and examinations that results in two years of stress with absolutely no extracurricular activities.
Alice is doing her prépa in Lyon. Being from Avignon, she would have loved to explore it, but she said she really didn't have the time. Too much work. She knows the way from her apartment to the school and back, and she said she did have time to catch one or two movies this year! Since her name is Alice Alcaras, however they do the alphabetical order (by first or last name), her grades are read out loud first, which is a bit nerve-wracking. Plus, she is apparently in a bit of a bind, since the rest of her family are professors in economics, or students in things like sociology. Fortunately for her, studying literature or philosophy in France is prestigious, and if she succeeds, everyone will be very proud of her. But, it's also extremely difficult, and since the rest of her family did different prépas, she essentially has to adapt on her own. The biggest difference I noticed about her on Sunday was that she is talking MUCH more slowly. It's funny—when I met her, I noticed she talked extremely fast, but it didn't bother me because, let's face it, so do I! But, she's slowed down considerably since her professors criticize how fast she talks. The same thing has happened to me at Princeton. So, I guess higher education, no matter how different from country to country, has some common aspects.
Back to Charlotte, who I met after Berthillon with Alice, she was staying with me, and besides, Macs had a prior engagement for his Sunday night (he had to bring ice cream to a bar tender—sounds like he had quite the night!). When she arrived, we headed back to the apartment where she admired Justine's tastes for a while. According to Charlotte, this is the PERFECT apartment, the one she would want if she lived in Paris, right down to the balcony and the books on the shelves. We wanted to buy breakfast stuff from a supermarket, but they were all closed (yes, on a Sunday at 5, because no one needs to buy food then!), so instead we headed to the Latin Quarter to get dinner. We went to one of Charlotte's favorite cafés from when she studied abroad here and had two very large croque-monsieurs (actually, her's was a croque-madame, so it had an egg on top) and some fries. A baby at the table next to us stole a lot of the fries, but we wouldn't have been able to finish them anyway.
Our dinner. Oh, and I got a cocktail too! It was great until Charlotte kind of spilled it...
The fry baby is behind me in this picture. Cute, but will one day be a shoplifter.
Monday, Charlotte and I met Macs in his neighborhood of Montparnasse, where we got coffee at a café. We got crêpes for lunch, since that's the best part of Montparnasse, at a crêperie that was literally right next door to where Mélanie and I went for dinner a few weeks ago! Then, we took a bus to Opéra because Charlotte wanted to see the ceiling of her favorite shopping mall, the Galéries Lafayette.
Pas mal...not bad...
Then, Macs wanted to force Charlotte to take a tour of the Opéra Garnier, but it happened to be closed that day. He was very upset. So we sat at another café right across the street and had the most expensive espressos of our lives.
Aren't Charlotte and Macs adorable in this photo? I'm the official department photographer—I take the BEST pictures of everyone! And we need one, since we're one of the best-looking departments at Princeton! Seriously though, professors in our department are constantly rated best-dressed and most attractive by the undergrads. And yes, people apparently care about that. I was once asked if we have a dress code. I said no, we just pride ourselves in our appearances.
Charlotte and I had dinner at a restaurant Macs suggested since he had to eat with his host mother. This place was amazing, but hardly seemed French. The service was impersonal and fast, and they gave second helpings of food. They also barely spoke 3 sentences to us, but that's the way the whole restaurant experience is designed. All they serve is steak. You sit down, and they ask you how well you want it cooked. There are essentially three options: saignante (bloody), à point (perfectly), or bien cuite (well done). If you choose the third option, I can only imagine they scowl at you. Anyway, then they ask you if you want wine and if so, what kind. Then, they bring you a salad. Followed by your meat (with a side of fries). Then, once you finish, they bring you seconds. Then, if you want dessert, you can answer that question. If not, check. Fast, efficient, and delicious. A bit pricey, but for Paris, not really.
Then, Macs found us at the restaurant and we headed to the Marais, to sit in cafés and drink wine since it was an appropriate hour to switch from coffee to wine. Ultimately, it was a very pleasant day. And what a refreshing turn of events to have a visitor in Paris who actually doesn't want to do the touristy stuff! Being a hostess has never been so easy!
Today, Charlotte and I met Macs for coffee in the morning, then he had to go write a paper and Charlotte and I went to Saint-Michel and got dessert crêpes. Then, we got more coffee at yet another café, and then she left around 4. So really, she was here almost EXACTLY 48 hours. And what a 48 hours they were!
No comments:
Post a Comment