Look inside my grocery bag

We're an incredibly dumbed-down country, the USA.

The issue is serious, but it's hilarious when US Under Secretary for Commerce, Chris Padilla does Free Trade Agreements for Dummies. Take a look here.

Addendum: It's not as easy as he makes it look. There are many more factors involved in the consideration of the US-Colombia Agreement. And, no, by "dummies" I don't mean Democrats or Hilary or Obama. Wait to read my paper, thank you. (Due to the prof this Friday at noon - not sure when we get it back.)

Fastest Update in the EU

I'm working on editing the Berlin photos right now. I tossed up a bunch of the Greve ones without labelling them because there were over 100+ and I just didn't have the time. There's day 1 of Berlin up but it's us kids in the airport - not interesting at all. Unless you dig Schoenefeld.

I'm off to go do groceries which requires planning and lists because, unlike the French, I like efficiency.

I'm definitely sure I made the right decision for school and for school in Paris. It's hard and wonderful at the same time, every day, all the time. Some days I feel like I've been thrown back into high school and feel drastically insecure about myself when I shouldn't since I'm a wonderfully mature and successful woman. Some days I feel frustrated by my lack of prior knowledge but I'm getting the big picture and seeing it all add up. Events outside of school are reinforcing the language I'm learning and the concepts and I feel like by the time I leave I will be on the cutting edge of leadership and policy, world change. That's exciting and comforting. Meanwhile, personally, I have some challenges. It's harder to get along with the younger students and it's harder to get along with French friends due to lack of time. I'm proud of myself that I've really taken to the bus routes (dude, RATP rules - on the upper left hand side is an interactive map of all bus lines, their timetables open in PDF and their routes are clearly outlined, same with metro, RER, and everything else). It's a great way to see Paris outside of my apartment and the school -- which end up seeing me most.

I loved visiting Berlin to see its dramatic changes between my last visit in 2002 and now. Thanks to Paul for the recommendation of Globetrotter Hostel!

So, we went to the World Bank the other day. You can see us here and watch the 2 hour lecture on "Research to Policy" here (opens into a Real Player video which I can't seem to save - must be locked).

Weather's turning colder here but no snow yet which makes me tremendously happy. There are anticipated strikes next week but I can't confirm things yet. I finally got a Navigo card (like 50E/month for all transport - it's a steal since I ride the bus/metro at least 2/day @ 1.50E/ea = 84E/month). I don't get the student discount because I'm old. Age discrimination is incredible in Europe. They don't comprehend why anyone would return to school for some reason. .. well, I know the reason, I just don't have time to expand on it here.

I promise more lengthly reports this weekend between reading reading reading and living.

Don't forget - plan your Europe vacation now and get free accommodations with me! I've already got my pals, the Lunds, visiting in January. Sooo excited to see them here and catch up -- J. Lund was 1 of the main recommenders for all my grad school apps, super cool guy/professor.

Ok, over n out.
BisouBisou

Boob tube

I don't have a TV in my apartment although today I wish to hell I had one. EXhausted! Not that it's impossible, but you know it's sometimes hard to remind myself that I'm completely exhausted in Paris. Everything becomes relative and home is where you lay your head (even if the futon is a bit hard). So, after a point of tiredness, even cobblestones and amazing cityscapes and French language and grey skies and dog crap on the sidewalk and the 7:30am "bonjour" greeting to the bus driver can all become a wash. It's Mondays that are going to kick my butt. Not that it sounds that bad, in fact, it sounds like a day at the office.

Get up at 6:00am
Thank god that something automatically wakes me up - again, I accidentally set it to 6:00pm
Roll around for 10 minutes wondering how I can get myself up before sunrise and wondering when sunrise will meet me in the morning again.
Smart school girl has already checked the weather the night before and picked out her outfit.
Turn The Current on (Radio K is too sporadic sometimes, and I hate Pledge Drive weeks -- yes, yes, I've given before) - very low volume. The walls aren't all that thick.
Shower - which is fabulous.
Lotion - it's drier here than I thought it would be. My hair requires more conditioner than ever before and I'm constantly thirsty and need lotion a lot earlier in the year than usual.
Start up the Italian press - how bad is aluminum for my brain and Alzheimer's anyway? Is it even confirmed?
Dress.
Catch up on emails (timezone weirdness) and Facebook and news. I finally got my Euro Newsweek and October's Wired. Also, we get a subscription to Economist online. Niiiice.
My new French shoulder bag has these awesome side pockets that are deeper than my thermos so I pack a coffee thermos some days or just pack it with apple and tasty energy bars (at least I think they're energy bars, or maybe they're weight-watchers type bars).
Down the 100+ stairs, down the hallway, hit the "Porte" button to unlock the door, out. I can see planets and stars but people are awake. People are always awake in my neighborhood. Head west to the end of the block, cross over, north 1/2 a block and there's the bus stop for #68. Except, it hasn't been on time yet. And, no, it's not me, thank you.
I whisper "bonjour" with my headphones on. No one talks on mass transit and it's almost frowned upon to converse or - god forbid - laugh loudly. Plus, I've got some reading to do. The two women who get on after me both say "bonjour" loudly enough to the bus driver that I can hear them. Hmm it's really a very polite country. It's super duper impolite to enter a shop and not say "bonjour" or "bonsoir." And it's super impolite to not wish the other person a good day or good evening with "bon journee" or "bonne soirée." For some reason I just didn't think this extended to the bus driver so much - how terrible of me! ... so I whispered it today, tomorrow I'll shout it to the rooftops!
Roughly 22min down Rue Blanche, past l'Opera, through the Louvre plaza (Erin, I keep passing the metro stop just down from our hotel and think of you!), along the Seine, and then hook into Saint Germain, turn left onto rue du Bac and I get off.
Run up the stairs to the 3rd floor, buzz in.

French class. Means you have to actually think. And think in a different part of your brain. And remember things from 17 years ago. And distinguish between Spanish and French. At least I'm not the only brain-dead in the course. 8am-10am

Today I wanted to sit in on "Regulation, Adjudication and Dispute Settlement Beyond the State" with Professor (or his Eccellenza) Sabino Cassese. Not that I don't want to be in Daniel Vaughan-Whitehead's course, because of course I want to take them all! But maybe I feel like I know a bit more about "Policy-making in Transition: Tools and Strategies" than International Law.

So, I dropped Transitions for Law (Chris T and Andrea G would be so proud!).

Regulation 10am-1pm. Only, Mr. Cassese goes on and on until 1:15pm, leaving me barely enough time to gulp down my sandwich crudite-thon (salad and tuna sandwich) from the basement of the main Sciences Po building (2,40E and full of fattening things like mayo and eggs).

We all bust over across the street from our department to another building for the last class "State Restructuring and Policy Change: Government and Governance" with Patrick Le Galès. So far this class (required for all 1st year students) has been pretty good in explaining where we're at in the spectrum of public policy but today - as he warned - would be directed at those with little to no policy experience (yawn - been there, done that). 2pm-5pm.

Okay, so it's literally a full work day with a nice away-from-desk lunch break (during which I got to read this article on abortion rates in the Int'l Herald Tribune - actually from the NYT). Except that, well, I just haven't worked my brain this hard in a while. It was on a nice vacation in La Crosse and then an overwhelmed vacation in Paris. Essentially, right after class let out, I got back to Rue du Bac, got in line and caught the first #68 back up the hill to my apartment. And all I wanted was a TV with the Simpsons and maybe a bit of like Heros or Desperate Housewives or Grey's Anatomy. Instead, I reminded myself I needed to hit the Supermarche. This is still a bit overwhelming. Less so when I'm starved though.

Anyway. Yes, bitch moan. And, yes, I realize I'm exhausted and complaining IN Paris. An oh-so-sad place to be. But really, it does become relative and daily and needs are the same. Today I could use a big ol' upper back crack from Josh. Or maybe a stroll around the capitol with Nicole and Sara. A funny ha ha joke with Tanya. A high-five dance with Shelle. A big ol' hug from my parents... it was so nice of them, by the way, to wait over by the edge of the entrance as I made my way through the security line at O'Hare. It was a good 20 minutes I'm sure and at every bend in the line I could look over someone's head and see them peeking around the corner. Thank god for G-chat and Skype. Thank god for innovation!

Well, that's enough procrastination on reading this whole case by 12 hours from now. Whoops. Well... I do have to allow myself time to ease in to the whole study lifestyle. And, yes, even though I'm very tired, I'm totally thrilled and amazed. It's been a month and 4 days now and I feel like it's just going too darn fast already!!

Much love

oh and new photos added daily!

The story of the bag-on-wheels

It's like putting on a pair of sunglasses. The world is still the same only slightly darker and maybe a bit prettier. Your own eyes are concealed and can steal glances here and there. Perhaps it's delayed jetlag but I'm still not so sure that I'm here. Like perhaps - as the cliche goes - it's all a dream, tinted a beige brown and viewed from far inside.




I had put off buying one of the old lady carts. I knew I was going to need one for all the things necessary to haul up to a 6th floor apartment for living: hangers, washcloth, bread, wine, salad, vegetables, olive oil, sugar, coffee, Principe cookies, tampons, etc. But for some reason it seemed rather 'adapted,' rather like permanence, rather like getting into the lot, like becoming one of the regulars. No longer a tourist burdened by heavy shoulder bags. And it just felt too soon for me to start assimilating. Especially since I feel more like I'm a poser. But I'm slowly realizing that I am living here. A bag on wheels. I always associated them with the old ladies in Buenos Aires.

But still... I stopped at a sucker-tourist shop for a big shoulder bag, thinking that that would cut it. But my first trip to the supermarche with all the cereal, the rice milk & soy milk (!!), the Canadian-imported peanut butter, the fresh veggies, the fair trade sugar, the yogurt.. well it weighed too much so I gave in. And then I became one of them - and not yet one of them.

Next door to the supermarche is a type of odds-and-ends shop where I bought the bag-on-wheels. The BOW, of course, made it easier to buy the 20 shirt hangers and 10 skirt hangers over at the nearby low-budget flea market near Metro Anvers. And the BOW made it easier to buy 2 cheap bottles of Rhone wine from Nicolas.


Coming back to the apartment, a French man made a joke with me. I knew it was something like me being too small for the big bag or something about sizes and speed. A lady laughed with him and of course, I wanted to know exactly what it was - not just the gist of the idea. "Pardon?" and I tried to understand that it looked like the bag was chasing me down the street. At least that was my interpretation of the whole conversation. After I walked away, I looked back over my shoulder with a smile to confirm that everything was good between us. I'm hoping he was looking back at me with the same idea and not shaking his head, "Paris overrun by foreigners trying to look like Parisians." [Momentary insecurities arise quite frequently but then are dispelled by a glimpse of beauty or an understood phrase.]

Of course, then the question came. How do I get the BOW up the curving stairwell? Somehow I imagined I'd just pull it up behind me as if it weighed as much as a cloud or some pudgy cupids would swoop down to carry it pinched between their joyful fingers. I had forgotten that I was on the 6th floor and that there were no secret backpack straps lurking inside the BOW. So, I turned my arm and carried it over my shoulder. Slowly each step, thinking about a nice greasy pulley system to set up over my balcony.