Two Cultural Experiences

FIRST, yesterday evening my friend Alex Rose and I went to The Opera, The Opera Garnier, the snazziest opera house you ever did see!  The one that the Phantom of the Opera is set in and semi-based on!!  We tried our luck at the last minute student tickets, waited around for an hour or so, and got perfect seats in the Orchestra, about ten rows back from the pit and seven chairs left from the middle.  For thirty euro each.  We saved about three HUNDRED euro between the two of us!

WE SAT RIGHT THERE!!!

And the place was beautiful.  Every surface was covered with carvings and gilding.  And there were chandeliers lighting the place.  So cool.  The opera was Hippolyte et Aricie, and the costuming and set design was totally Louis XIV.  Amazing.  The scenes glided into position like monoliths on wheels, Diana floated down from the ceiling on a cloud, Jupiter and his infernal court rose from the depths of the stage, the three witches who cut the life threads of mortals hung upside-down from the ceiling, a huge sea monster was unveiled from rolling waves to eat up the hero...it was visually stunning.  And the costumes were beautiful with a color scheme of pale greens, golds, and greys contrasted with deep reds and purples.  Everyone was powdered white with curled and powdered wigs.  So cool!  Here are some pics I've pulled off the internet of authentic opera costumes from the 1770s:

The costume designer seems to have directly taken inspiration from images like this.  The men wore short skirts, the headdresses are right on, even the "Demon's" face was copied in the makeup of a fury of the underworld.  Now here are some pics of what I saw:

One thing you have to know about baroque opera, apparently, is that the singers mainly just stand there with their arms in various pre-formulated positions.  See the ladies in green in the first picture.  I think they must have stood there like that for 15 minutes, easy.  One reviewer said, "The opera has longueurs. Half of the endless dances that slow down the action could easily be cut," but I would argue that there was no action at all and that the dances provided the one relief from the stony tedium of non-action.  It seemed to me that exciting things happened behind the scenes, and then the characters would come out and sing how they felt about it.  Which, you know, is how I live my life, too, so I don't begrudge them their unburdening of soul.  

SECOND CULTURAL EXPERIENCE:  Today I went to a public swimming pool with Soph and her dad.  It was a confusing experience.  I swear someone should research and write a treatise on the anthropology of public swimming pool rituals in the States vs. Europe.  First of all (and I didn't believe this when I heard it but it's true), men aren't allowed to wear swimming trunks, you know, the loose shorts?  They MUST wear speedos, either in brief or short-shorts form.  Hm.  Also, everyone has to wear swimming caps.  There was a vending machine selling them if you didn't have one.  The same vending machine also offered swimsuits for men, women, and children in a variety of sizes, as well as goggles for adults and children.  I am now the semi-proud owner of a navy blue polyester swimming cap, though if Dai had asked me first, I would have picked a different color.  Beggars who don't speak up in time can't be choosers, I suppose.

On the girl's side of the locker room, I found a locker, couldn't get it to lock until some girl pointed out that I needed to put a euro in it, and somehow put the bathing cap on my head in a semi-normal-looking fashion.  Then I walked into the pool area through the wrong door, though I didn't know it was the wrong door until I was headed back inside and found the right door.  The right door had a little dip in the floor with a foot bath of some sort.  

I noticed the preteen girls wore their swimming caps a little more haphazardly that I was, so I mussed mine up a little, uncovered my ears and pushed the edge back above my hairline, letting some hair slip out.  I'm pretty good at the game "When In Rome".  Of course, we were in the shallow pool, so I have no idea how the girls my age were wearing their caps...  

Sophie loved swimming with her daddy, it was so cute!  They used to go to a Water Babies class every week together at home.  She knows how to kick and paddle and go under.  He helped her jump off the edge and dunk under the water and since she hasn't done it in a while, she kind of freaked out about it.  Not in any crying or being scared way, just in an instinctive thrash-limbs-about-like-a-fish-and-then-blink-a-lot way.  Like I said:  cute.

So, people, I am rip-roaring through Parisian experiences, with the opera and the swimming pool in one twenty-four hour period!  It's been a good time.

La Princesse que n'avait pas de Royaume, Part II

The Princess without a kingdom was very gentile.  Every time that she passed a palace, she would stop to greet the inhabitants.
Thus, one beautiful morning, her cart pulled up the avenue of the palace of the grand-duchess Marie-Jacquotte at a grand trot.  At which point, seeing that the princess was beautiful, the grand-duchess scowled her eyebrows and shook her jester to wake him.  "Run and give this to my son, Prince Perfect," she ordered him, giving him a purse of gold coins*, "and tell him to go on a day-long boat trip."
She didn't want Prince Perfect to meet the princess, for fear that he would fall in love with her.

After all, what good would be a wife without a kingdom?
The grand-duchess then sent for her six daughters to have a tea party with the princess.
The tea wasn't served in the finest china, and the small cakes weren't the most delicate because it was always like that for the princess without a kingdom.**
But the jester told his best jokes, and the princess laughed brightly, and it was good that the grand-duchess didn't understand it all.


After her departure, the six young girls dragged the princess into their room and offered her their old dresses.  "This doesn't bother you, all these second-hand duds?" they asked her, giggling with laughter.
But the princess thanked them, because she knew that she would get a good price for this noble garb.
Meanwhile the jester offered her one of his pairs of red hose because he was afraid that she had cold feet.
Afterwards the princess descended to the stables to get Coquette, who was sharing some bits of grass with a big, gloomy-looking horse.  "Splendid, Coquette," she said to her, "you've made yourself a friend!"  In a little while, they were off to resell the rich attire and the ball-gowns.  But the princess kept the red hose for herself.


*This was the hardest thing ever to translate because the French don't see fit to close quotation marks until the whole spoken word is finished, not even to designate the narrative parts.  The quotation marks, which look like this: <<  >>, opened at the "Run and give" and closed at the "boat trip".  I kept trying to figure out how to translate the "she ordered him, giving him a purse of gold coins" into the quotation of the grand-duchess, when it wasn't her speaking at all!  That was super confusing.  


**No, I know that doesn't make much sense.  Just roll with it.

If I had a Million Dollars

(or even just a couple hundred), I'd spend it all on cool things at the Paris Flea Market!!!  Apparently it's been around for forever, i.e. since the police shipped all the shady second-hand dealers out of the main part of town, and they settled down in the 18th arrondissement in the last decade of the 19th century.

"Le marché aux puces, Porte de Clignancourt", Luigi Loir (1845-1916).

Sophie had fun playing with the toys and opening the boxes and touching the velvet chairs and waving around the silver ladles.  We stopped at this pair of stalls situated across from each other.  One was full of silver, the other of American memorabilia, and both were run by really friendly men (that sounds weird, but I mean it in the most literal sense).  One man put on some music that got Sophie's attention...

(push play to set the mood)

...and she danced a bit.  He also brought out these plastic figures of Donald Duck and Scrooge McDuck, and she loved them!  We had a fun little French conversation about how cute she was, and the only thing that I didn't understand the first time around was, "Is she your first?"  Sigh.  Sometimes I hate having to say, "Oh, no, I'm just the nanny..."  I wish I could take even a little credit.  

Then we went to another stall and DISASTER struck!  Sophie had picked up an old wooden spool, which she could't break, so I let her hang on to it.  But I when I picked her up to keep her from the more breakable things, she DROPPED the spool right into a bucket of BREAKABLE things!  And one broke!  I gasped at the sound of glass and I apologized profusely and I offered to pay for the damage.  Fortunately, it was a bucket of modern-looking, mass-produced, all-the-same-thing things, and the seller brushed it off, but with a stern look on his face that seemed to say, "See!  That's why babies don't belong at flea markets!"  I was horrified and so embarrassed, and we left the flea market then and there.  It wasn't Sophie's fault, it wasn't entirely mine, it was just an accident!  Oh can I ever show my face there again??  

Blog as Notebook

I have a crazy idea, so I need a place to collect information.  Since the information that I'm finding is online, it seems best to use this space as a notepad for my thoughts and links.  You really don't have to read it.

In short, I'm looking for a grant to live off of while doing just what I want.  And I am going to stay that vague.

The National Endowment for the Humanities:

This Scholarly Editions and Translations grant could be for up to three years of translating/compiling a scholarly work.  I would need to follow these guidelines for scholarly works and these guidelines for documentary editing.  I would also need a team of scholars to work with on this project, including at least an editor.  Since it is an involved application process and not many people apply, 44% of applicants actually get funded.  I have one idea for this (very complicated and involved), but I could conceive of others.

This Fellowship, very general and open-ended, has a much lower rate of acceptance:  7%.  This one probably fits my original idea best, in that there is no fitting to be done, but it would be hard to actually get the money.  I do think that my idea is fascinating and unique, so maybe it wouldn't be too hard ;)

If I could find one other person to go in with me on my original idea, somehow, I could fit the bill for this Collaborative Research Grant.  I generally have thought of this as a one-woman show, but who knows; two minds are better than one.  This grant has a 13% acceptance rate.

Oo!  A grant for starting something in the Digital Humanities... that could be PERFECT.  Here is a grant for further implementation of the same sorts of ideas.

This Humanities Collection and Reference Resources Grant could actually work, too, as long as an individual could apply.  Hm, but the deadline is July 19th.  I'm not sure if I could make that this year, even with all my spare time rattling around...

The American Historical Association:

They only grant grants to members, and awarded funds are relatively small ($800-1000), but if I need an extra boost, I could definitely try for them in the categories of Research in the Western Hemisphere, Research in Colonial American History, and Research in the History of Europe (et al).

The Costume Society of America:

They have a travel research grant for $1600.  Not bad!  Unfortunately you have to be a member for the past two years.  I used to be a member.  Maybe I should join up again and thus have a way to support myself for a month two years from now...

The Simple Life

Since Dai got here (the baby-daddy), he's been wanting to spend time with Sophie, of course.  So he told me I could sleep in today.  And they are off on an adventure until her morning nap, around 9:30.  My job keeps getting easier and easier!  

Since I don't have anything else to do at this time, I thought I would present to you all some adorable pictures of Sophie for your entertainment.  

Look at those blue eyes...  All the French grannies stop us on the street to comment on them.  One mommy at the park was surprised that I wasn't related to her because of our eyes.

She has such a cute smile,

 And a big, bald-looking head,

 But she's not bald, she just has cornsilk hair.  And look at her adorable skinny jeans!!

 She has the cutest raincoat (the best investment in a piece of clothing her mom ever made),

 And loves eating croissant.

 She loves riding carousels, too, and so we do, even though Alexandra gets sick on them.

 Her hair got kind of greasy when we put sunscreen on that first time.

 She gave Ferdinand the Reindeer kisses.  This was at the Eiffel Tower.  Some Asian women came up to us while we were there and went to hold her, and I was like no way lady!  This is my baby!  

 This is her making eyes at a friendly homeless man at an old church.  A minute later she started tearing down those posters.  Don't worry, I fixed them.

 She has a perfect American-girl-doll-esque profile.

And there she is on her toes, trying to reach all the forbidden things of Alexandra on the desk :)

The End

Four Posts in a Day? What am I Doing??

I really need direction in my life.  Otherwise I start feeling useless, and then I start making things up to feel useful doing.  And THEN if I don't do them, I start feeling like a loser without drive or commitment or accomplishments.  And I start filling my time with mindless prattle.  Like posting to my blog four times a day.  Or eating smoked salmon sandwiches and Haagen-Dazs ice cream at 10:30 at night.

For example, I am in Paris.  I have a job to do: take care of baby.  When my job is done for the day, I amuse myself by learning French.  And...that's it.  I have nothing else to accomplish.  No other goals, no friends to distract me.  So, by virtue of my mental makeup, French is now my obsession, and I am sucking at it.  I mean, I'm not.  I'm actually doing great, for three weeks of learning.  But...but...  For every simple conversation I can carry on in French, there are fifteen others that I can't follow.  For every word I learn there are about a MILLION others that I will never know.  And feeling discouraged isn't really the problem; after all, I'm only here for three months.  I won't be fluent by September.  But I want to feel like I'm a part of this place, at least by virtue of my blood, sweat, and tears.  I want to belong here somehow; I want to feel like Paris wants me here.  Does that make sense?

Bah!  I hate feeling stressed out about something that I'm doing for fun.  I am such an obsessive person.  If escaping Boston has helped erase some former obsessions from my mind (ahem), it has only made my psyche cast its metaphorical gaze about for some other goal to fixate on.

I am such a nutcase.
I may have to take a sabbatical from the internet, just to refocus myself.
Except the internet has the best language dictionaries.
And how will I skype without skype?
And I need to organize my ride for the beach trip next weekend...
And...

I'll probably feel better in the morning.  Goodnight.

La Princesse qui n'avait pas de Royaume

I bought this adorable picture book, a fairy tale called "The Princess who didn't have a Kingdom".  I have an inkling that this story is a parable for my life.  But I'm not entirely sure, because I can't quite understand all of it.  So I am going to translate it for you all, bit by bit.  Also I'm doing it for French study.  It is by Ursula Jones and Sarah Gibb.

Here I go:

Once upon a time there was a princess who didn't have a kingdom.  She didn't own anything but a cart and a pretty little mare named Coquette.  Every day, the princess guided her cart a little farther on the lookout for a kingdom, shielding herself when it rained with a big red umbrella.  And every day, the people asked at her passing: "Oh!  Princess have you found your kingdom?"
At that, she would smile sadly and shake her head.  But everyone agreed in saying that she was a good and a real princess, even without a kingdom. First of all, she had that look about her, and further, wasn't that why everyone called her "the  princess without a kingdom?"

The princess without a kingdom was not rich, as is the wont of princesses, but she earned a big of my by transporting strange packages which were impossible to send via the post: for example, ostrich eggs at the point of hatching, dogs searching for new horizons, or even unmanageable grannies.
And with all of the work of her deliveries, she continued to find herself a kingdom.  "There's got to be one of them around here somewhere," she murmured in Coquette's ear.  "A princess without a kingdom, it isn't actually possible!"  And Coquette nodded her head up and down with a wise look.

To be continued...

Photoshoot

Sophie's dad arrived yesterday and will be staying for three weeks.  He wanted to spend time with her this afternoon, so they are hanging out together right now.  But he had to do some emailing first, so while we were waiting for him, Sophie and I watched some of the videos I've taken of her.  She loves watching herself, and the photoshoot that we had right afterwards suggests that she's getting the hang of smiling for the camera!  She's have a completely straight face before we took a picture, I'd hold up the camera, take the pic, and look at her again, and she'd be entirely composed.  But when I looked at the photos, I found she had grinned like crazy right when the picture was being taken!  You can see my expression becoming more and more amused at her antics.  Oh, and the curl still left in my hair is from yesterday!  

I like how we have similar expressions and tilts of the head here.

And...we are starting to get tired of this exercise.

Bye everyone!

In Memoriam

I took Sophie to the Louvre yesterday.  Liz bought me a year-long membership.  For "Young Friends of the Louvre" it cost only 35 euro!  Completely worth it.  Especially since I plan on bringing Sophie here at least once a week to explore the place a little bit at a time.  A room or two of paintings followed by an hour in the hall of statues, where she can move around, sounds like a winning formula.  

When Liz and Sophie and I first took a walk to the Louvre, I immediately started thinking about Mamacita (my grandmother who passed away almost two years ago).  She told me once that on a visit to Holland she spent three days in the Rijksmuseum alone.  She would love the opportunity to explore the Louvre one room at a time.  This sort of old world splendor and culture made her so proud and also touchingly curious.  Like her travelogues and her classical music, art had the power to transport her to another world; one where she could be truly content and entirely herself.  I feel that she is excited for all the things I'm going to see, and I know that she is proud of me and where I am.  Despite the fact that I haven't done anything important or made a name for myself or even found a job, she always reminded me that I am living a good life, and she always encouraged my adventuring.  We wrote to each other when I was in the Netherlands, at college, on my mission, and even when I was in Boston.  I would have gotten at least three letters from her in Paris by now.  I really miss that.  I really miss her.

The Morning After

Morning!  This is my morning face:  

Notice that I pushed the headband up to my hairline to avoid the glaring red forehead line that would have been.  Pretty smart, huh?  That's why they pay me the big bucks.

(It is tough to get a picture of the back of your head.  These will have to do.)  

Now.  Drumroll, please!!

Voila!

Curls!

...

The mark of a good curl is how long it stays in, right?  It is currently 10 am, three hours after those initial photos, and it is pretty humid here.

I like it!  Actually, more than I thought I would.  I think this webcam is better than my camera (or even my mirror) at making me look good.  The curls have relaxed a bit, a few on the bottom layers in the back have straightened out completely, but that is a good thing.  Yay for my curly hair!  

P.S.  Don't you like the moulding on the ceiling?  My house is très cool.

P.P.S.  Most of my posts are not at all about Paris.  I hope that isn't disappointing.  Paris is just a place where I'm living my life at the moment.  It's nice, and all, but I couldn't talk about it every day.  Myself, now, THAT is a topic I never tire of.   ;)