Paris, je t'aime

I heard a lot of English today.  I was overhearing conversations and understanding them, I was seeing my own confusion played out in others, I was even momentarily considering having a conversation that didn't consist of long awkward silences where I try to understand what is going on - though I decided to sit and read instead.
Today was the day of my practical exam to see where I ranked in my understanding of French, and therefore what class I would be most appropriately placed in.  Like a good student before any big test that will determine the course of their entire semester, I stayed up all night watching the latest season of Chuck. There's something about the relationship between the two main characters that, regardless of all the plot holes and contrived conflict, keeps me coming back for more.  It's almost as if overcoming the often poor writing of the show is a quiet personal conflict for the viewers that they themselves must overcome if they ever want to see how Chuck and Sarah's relationship will play out.  I think I'm justifying here, but I'm okay with that because I made it sound good.
After about 13 episodes of prime time NBC comedy it was time to turn off my alarm, put on yesterday's clothes, and go buy some pastries - then immediately return with said pastries, down a glass of milk, and finish out the season finale.  Once that was over and two pain au chocolates were nesting softly in my belly I decided it was time to give in to the beating drum that was the inside of my scull and take a nap.  A couple hours later I got up, took a shower, got dressed (new clothes), and headed out.
It's beautiful here.  Had I not been passed out with an iron curtain over my windows I may have noticed earlier that it was over 50 degrees with sunny blue skies.  I was headed to a place called the student house where all my phonetics classes are supposed to be held once those classes start mid-month.  The building was rather interesting, a renovated structure with exposed wood beams and lots of large glass windows that added depth and layers to the space.  When I got there (a half hour early) I noticed that a line had already formed with students all holding little white cards identical to the one I'd been given to show that they were here for the test.  Instead of waiting around I noticed a post office near by and so I headed over and asked about stamps.  I didn't have enough cash to buy any stamps for the US, but I picked up a euro stamp so I could send my documents off to the immigrations office here, which I was supposed to do within a week of my arrival.  Well, tomorrow would be a week so I figured it was time.  Luckily for me the post office also had a copy machine that only cost 10 cents and so I made a copy of my passport pages, which I needed to send off to immigrations as well.  Success.  Sort of.  Why didn't I think to buy envelopes?  Hmm....  Guess it just slipped my mind.  I'll have to do that tomorrow.  Either way I got stamps and that's half the battle, right?  Anyone?  Okay.
Got back in line, sat down, stared around at the hipster generation around me not knowing their nationality for sure, because it seems as though everyone in this country was deported from Wicker Park for being too much of a hipster and somehow all landed here, as if in Paris there existed a magnet for tight jeans, torn leggings, excessive scarves, and tilted fedoras; these people all mixed in with women and men dressed to the fringes and strutting around like they don't realize that spit, piss, and cigarette littered sidewalk isn't a runway flanked by eager cameras and impossibly bored cliches of the fashion scene.  No.  Indeed, it's just a sidewalk.  And by the way, you're embarrassing the rest of us, so knock it off.
Sorry about that - needed to get it off my chest.  Everywhere I go, its the same fashion trends, only here it seems like everyone is trying harder.

After some careful listening I discovered that most of the people in line were either from England or the US, and everyone looked rather concerned.  A look I myself was probably sporting, that complimented by deep serial-killer circles under my eyes from all the late night TV.  But if I did look concerned it was only because my face has been frozen in that position since I landed and not because I was the least bit nervous.  I mean, how hard could it be?  I don't give myself a lot of credit, but I can read and understand French okay - I can read it decent at least, and if it's a test to measure our ability then there will be at least some questions that will be no brainers to help weed out the completely hopeless.  Wrong.
It was hell.  Silly, over the top, incoherent hell.
There wasn't one thing on that test that I answered with confidence.  I mean when I left, and I left early on, I never felt more sure about anything in my life.  I bombed that test.  I had a laughing fit in the hallway it was so unbelievable.  People were staring at me, and I didn't care, because to be honest it was funny.  I'd like to give you some examples, but I can't remember anything about the test, and even if I did write something down for you I wouldn't have a who-flung-poo clue about what I was saying.  It was brutal and hilarious.  I even had trouble filling out the front page info sheet.  At least I lasted longer than some.  One girl after being handed the test wrote her name on the front, flipped through the pages, and then walked right back up to the teacher declaring "I don't speak any French".  How much do you want to bet that she's in my class?  Ah, well.  At least we got that out of the way, and oddly enough I left feeling more at ease than I have in days.  It was almost as if sucking on that test was just what I needed to sit back and say "C'est la vie".
I took a stroll through the Luxembourg gardens afterwards and watched the sun set over Paris, the Eiffel Tower slowly darkening into a pitch silhouette against a sky full of oranges and reds with flecks of purple. It really was fantastic.  Paris is an expansive palace, constantly working to out-do itself in extravagance, a palace inhabited by the people (because they cut off everyone else's head), and bustling with more life and speed than almost any other city I've been in.
I picked up some provisions from the grocery store when I got back.  Last night I made myself some salmon with lemon and rice and green olives, polished off an entire bottle of wine (I'm not sure how, honest), ate an entire box of cereal, drank a half liter of milk, and entire bag of chips.  Yes, wow.  I guess Chuck brings out my mean appetite.  Either way, tonight I picked up two bottles of triple-brewed beer (already polished off one, a Delirium Tremens (great stuff)), ate two pork chops, two servings of rice, a little salt a little pepper, I bought another box of cereal (they but dark chocolate shavings in their special K!), another half liter of milk, some butter, some bread (I figured I could fill up on this and save myself some trips to the store), a huge wedge of brie for only 1, that's right, 1 euro, and that's it.  Why does brie cost so much in the US?  It's like six bucks for less than what I got tonight.  And I don't want to hear anything about products being shipped over, we don't make brie, sort of business, because they have so many American products for equal or competitive prices that I no longer believe that whole "shipped in from Europe so it'll cost you an extra six dollars crap".  They seem to be getting shiploads of Marlboros and are only paying 5 euro a pack for them - which I think is closely equivalent to US prices if you consider all the tax there is on tobacco products now-a-days.  So, yeah!  I want cheap brie! (For those of you wondering why brie, it's because I had no idea what all the other nine hundred cheeses taking up the entire center section of their shopping center were and come on - one euro brie!)
I'm not sure what I'll do tonight - if I should go to bed early or see if I can train my body to survive off of only 3 hours of sleep a day.  It's a toss up.
Forgot to mention that the other day I went to the Musee de l'Orangerie (breathtaking and impressive) and have been frequenting Pere Lachaise (because it's possibly the most beautiful places I've ever been to and it's in my backyard).  I bought a book at the gift shop at the Orangerie, which I don't normally do, but I liked the artist who I'd seen before and his book was 50% off, so why not.  I need, yes need, to go to the Orsay ASAP and the Pompidou, but the Musee d'Orsay first.  I think I'll probably never leave.  They'll find me years later curled up in a janitor's closet reciting lines from Rimbaud and terminally constipated from too much brie.  I'm not sure if I'm going to be hitting up the Louvre this trip or not.  I've walked on the grounds surrounding it several times now, but I feel like it's more expensive than anything and I've already seen it.  Who knows, maybe I'll run into some nice (cute) classmates and they'll want to go.  We'll see.

Okay, so here's the thing, real quick, I've now watched every episode of Fringe, Chuck, Community, Fairly Legal, Royal Pains, Psych, and 30 Rock.  Is there anything I'm missing?  Are these my shows?  Does anyone know what kind of TV I watch?  If so please let me know, because Anna and Emily opened up a whole new world with this fastpasstv thing and it's made me a sleepier man, a better man, and my gut is leaning towards the whole teach-myself-to-survive-off-of-no-sleep thing.  Just a question, throwing it out there.  Hope all is well state side.

Salut!