11.20.05
Funkin’ with Duncan
This past Friday night I met up with Duncan, who’s studying music in Paris for the year.
When I first got in contact with him, I was a bit apprehensive about meeting up. He was at best a friend of a friend (or rather, several friends), an aquaintance I’d see at Jonny’s house, but with whom I’d never had a real conversation. I figured “why the hell not?� and met him for a drink in the Saint Germain des Pres area. We started off at an expensive place on a main street and quickly wised up and headed out to find a less faux-trendy older crowd bar. Luckily, he knew about a couple of places and we ended up going first to Le Piano Vache [�The Piano Cow� …I dunno why either].
After the jump: Two great bars
11.08.05
The French riots: an American on the sidelines
One thing about having a blog is that now I feel required to comment whenever something big happens around me.
First off for anyone that knows me personally: I’m fine. I feel safe. Nothing has happened in my arrondissement nor in the arrondissements of the universities I attend.
After the jump: An American student’s view of the riots in and around Paris.
11.05.05
Old Posts
You may have noticed a bunch of posts dated from before the creation of this blog. No, I haven’t finally completed my time travel device (can’t those imbeciles work any faster?!), but I’m copying the entries from my old blog to this one. I’ll include the original comments too.
 Just a quick note.
-VicÂ
10.31.05
Roisin Murphy live at the Trabendo, Paris
Wow. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m writing while still in post-concert euphoria.
Tonight I saw Roisin Murphy perform live at the Trabendo, a little place in the Parc de la Villette, a 10 minute walk from my apartment. The concert was at 8:30, I arrived at 9 because nobody in that park has even heard of the Trabendo, let alone knows where it is. Luckily time is elastic in France, and the doors didn’t even open for another 10 minutes after my arrival.
I went to the concert alone. Nobody I know has heard of her and thus no one was willing to gamble the €25 ticket price on an unknown. It’s nice to go to concerts with people, but to have gone to this concert with someone unfamiliar with her music wouldn’t have made the experience any better. They probably would have just been like “Vic, you’re into some weird shit, man.” Going alone let me love every minute of the show without distraction.
After the jump: What the hell do you think? The show!
10.30.05
The Move to WordPress
This blog will pick up where I left off from my previous one. Modblog has had way too much downtime recently and I can’t wait for them any longer. I’m really excited to use WordPress and look forward to a good relationship with the software.
My previous blog was a travelogue describing my semester in Paris. This blog will fill that role, but will also be a more permanent thing that will last after my return, hence the change in username to Number9.
More meaningful posts soon,
-Vic
10.17.05
Normandie, 2e Jour
Continued from a previous entry…
That night, we had dinner at a Normandic… er Normandish… a restaurant serving the cuisine of Normandy (gracieusement paid for by Sweet Briar). To describe the food of this region, you only need one word: cream. Everything has cream in it or has a cream sauce on it or is somehow creamy. This makes it a bit heavy, but still quite good. Mushrooms are also pretty well represented here, as are potatoes. Dessert, however, was not so much a creamy dish as it was a dish that had whipped cream on it… it was a (delicieux) pear tart that didn’t have a creamy soul like our dinner, but was complemented well by the topping.
After the jump:
Drinking & a girl on her knees, beatboxing & a local bar, and an architectural marvel & the ride home.
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Un petit truc…
New policy: I’m going to start making use of the “cut” html tag, which will remove all content enclosed in the tag from the mainpage. This content can be accessed by clicking the title of the post to fullview it. I do this so that I will get an better idea of my readership: Modblog shows me how many fullviews a post receives, so if everyone who reads the whole entry clicks, then I can get a better feeling for the size of my audience. Comment this entry if you have something to say about the use of the “cut” tag.
Testing this feature now. More after the jump…
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10.16.05
Normandie, 1e Jour
I have not updated recently for two reasons:
1. Extended Modblog downtime
2. Site blocking by ISP? other mysterious party? …I kept getting “connection refused” errors. Even David, who is behind the great firewall of China could access it, while I couldn’t… Qu’est-ce que c’est que ca?
I’m here now because I’m using Privoxy. It slows down the speed of downloading webpages a bit, but at least I can access my blog.
Last weekend (the 8th & 9th)
I spent last weekend with 40 of the Sweet Briar peeps in Normandy, the northern coast of France upon which the Allies landed on D-Day. I was overjoyed to find that Normandy hasn’t been commercially exploited in the least. Sure, you see a sign to visit a D-Day museum every once in a while, but there are definitely no WWII theme parks or hokey touristy shit. The countryside is still beautiful and unspoiled, the restaurants serve regional food (rather than catering to Americans or British), and the beach memorial is solemn and respectful. Because of that I could imagine the American GIs from 60 years ago looking around the corners of buildings, marching along the roads, charging out onto Utah beach in a hail of ordinance. Most of you reading this have seen WWII themed movies or played computer games, but to actually be there just makes the whole thing so real. You stand on the sand and look out to the sea, then turn to the see how the Allied soldiers had to fight their way up the hill and onto the shore. Thoughts run through your head like “My grandfather landed here, killed men here, bled and died here.”
There’s a time capsule in one corner of the WWII memorial on Utah beach, filled with film clips and articles by journalists of the day, that will be opened on the 100 year anniversary in 2044.
We walked a bit further to a place where the shore meets the sea as a low cliff, rather than a beach, where a group of Rangers was killed as they scaled the cliff to meet German machinegun fire. Allied ships had shelled the cliff, hoping to destroy the bunkers there (the place is full of shellholes… it’s like walking through an egg carton) but they just didn’t hit them, and the Rangers were massacred. There, you can walk in and on the bunkers, there are no guards or caution signs… just the cliff as it was years ago. You walk down into a concrete bunker, passing by a little window where a machinegun must have been mounted and it’s a pitch dark, rectangular room. We “saw” the room by taking pictures with a flash and examining the picture to understand the layout, though in some bunkers a little daylight crept in. Whatever furniture or lighting was there must have been removed, but you still feel a nervous sort of fear, a residual “oh god I hope the next shell doesn’t hit” that the German troops must have been thinking. When you’re outside and you can see the sun and the beach, the German troops are just the Wehrmacht, Hitler’s army and the force that let him carry out his evil work. But when you walk into a bunker and you see the rusted doors and the machinegun windows and the stark walls and floor, they’re just scared guys about our age holding rifles with white-knuckle grips and hoping to make it until dinner that night.
I’d like to note that the Wehrmacht and the SS were two separate institutions: the Wehrmacht was the German army, while the SS was mostly in charge of running the death camps and was the organization implementing Hitler’s “Final Solution,” though they did do some fighting. Because of this, I can still picture German soldiers in the human way described above. They were still Nazis of course, but reasons for joining the Wehrmacht were quite different from reasons for joining the SS. (If you find any inaccuracies or points you’d like to clarify, Nic, let me know).
I’ll split this entry into two parts for easier digestion.
-Vic
EDIT: Please read Nic’s comment to clarify the role of the Wehrmacht in WWII. I have apparently not given credit where credit was due and have revised my rather lenient opinion above.
 ***Original comment on this post***
RE: Normandie, 1e Jour
Posted by: Nicster
Date: 10/17/05 at 12:16 AM (2w5d ago)
The wehrmact was responsible for many atrocities. For a long time this was not apparent, because the experience in the west was very different from the west. Historians of the second world war were primarily reliant on german sources, particularly ex-werhmact generals, in constructing the history of the eastern front, so it was not apparent exactly how widespread atrocities were in the eastern front until recently (although they were always recognized to some extent, i believe.)
Sure those soldiers at normandy were not the butchers in charge of death camps, and in the west they did not commit atrocities to the extent as in the east. However, I’m not sure on this, but im pretty sure that many of the units defending normandy had been involved in the eastern front. And in the east they had committed various atrocities (i.e. systematic killing of prisoners.)
To address your quote…
“Because of this, I can still picture German soldiers in the human way described above.”
Anyways the point is that those German soldiers in the Werhmact are more closely connected to the German soldiers in the SS than is commonly supposed. Because of the imperfections that our historical memory is created, the Wehrmact and particularly their generals get a “free pass” from the whole nazi thing, which should not be necessarily given. I feel an urge to go off on a tangent here, but i think i’ll save that for my own blog. P:
09.26.05
Le coin nord-ouest
Ah, Paris in the fall…
I arrived at my new home a few days ago and I’m happy to report that my new family has an aDSL connection, so no more internetcafe nonsense for me!
The 19th arrondisement is a bit like Brooklyn: a lot of it isn’t that pretty to look at, but it’s got a lot of soul. Walking around, you don’t hear French as often as Arabic and various African languages (or maybe it’s just one or two… i can’t tell), you don’t see any big chain stores besides McDonalds, and when you see any nice architecture it has a sort of faded look to it. The neighborhood is young, though, and energetic. You can take out a kayak or canoe on the Seine for free and there are two big parks within walking distance of my apartment. The pingpong tables on the Seine boardwalk are manned at all hours by Asians furiously working the little ball back and forth, while the old Frenchmen argue over their game of boules (like bocce) a few meters away. As you walk a bit farther north along the seine, you pass parked trucks with vivid masterpieces of graffitti, painstakingly sprayed for what must have been hours, on the sides. You hold your breath against the smell of urine as you pass under a bridge over the water plastered with signs questioning your existence and location. Further on, you come to the Parc de la Villette. An immense metal sphere, which they call la Géode dominates the landscape. Moving closer, you hear chimes and read on a little info table that it’s a actually a clock. The geode stands right in front of la Cité des Sciences, a science museum for children and a massive building that gives off an industrial, slightly evil-headquarters sort of aura. Moving east, you pass l’Argonaut, a derelict submarine, and come to the park part of the Parc de la Villette. Open fields stretch to the cobblestone banks of the Seine and a small carnival games area can be seen across the water. Italian and Eastern European tourists walk by young French parents playing with their infant sons and daughters. Drum circles can be heard coming from a bit further down the bank and you lay down on the grass next to Beth, the girl you came with, and look up at the clouds. Overwhelmed by it all, you lean over and kiss her. She kisses back, despite that fact that she knows it’s wrong, despite the fact that there are little kids around, despite the fact that in a few months she’ll go back to Delaware and you’ll go back to Pennsylvania, despite everything.
The Paris in which I live in isn’t the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, it isn’t Foie Gras or champagne, and it’s not Molière or King Louis XIV. I can take the metro a few stops and visit that Paris whenever I please. My Paris is grimy steel and cobblestones, its Camembert on baguette and Shawarma in a pita, it’s graffitti and existentialism. When I first saw it, I thought I’d miss out on what the city is all about, but I’ve found the hidden underbelly, the gap between the words of the travel guides, the city behind the facade. And I think I’m starting to love it.
-Vic
PS: I really wanted to do that thing from the webcomic in which the bunny and the girl are looking up at the clouds, discussing what they look like (“not today, little one”), but I don’t think it would have gone down that smoothly.
 ***Original comments on this post***
RE: Le coin nord-ouest
Posted by:
Date: 09/27/05 at 9:22 AM (1M1w ago)
You’re a pimp, my friend. Good going with Beth, I wish you two many baby bunnies.
I liked your descriptions. Sort of Hemingway meets Kerouac.
-David
RE: Le coin nord-ouest
Posted by:
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Date: 09/27/05 at 5:42 PM (1M1w ago)
I should probably read a bit of those two then… though I did have a little exposure in DiGennaro’s class.
09.22.05
Au revoir, Tours
Today is our last day in Tours. Political Science wasn’t a big deal. Everyone’s coming out tonight.
Before coming to France, I thought Tours would be a waste of time, but having been through the experience I understand the benefits of having been here. It’s the little things, really: the “je peux vous aider, monsieur” attitude in the stores (as opposed to the US’ more laissez faire outlook), the fact that French people never look at people while they walk, but will stare with impunity from inside a car, and other petits trucs. It might have been a bit more difficult to jump right into Parisian life.
Speaking of Paris, I’ll arrive in my appartment there tomorrow. I’m in the 19th arrondisement, which is the northeast corner of the city. Paris is divided into districts that are arranged in two concentric circles, thus districts next to each other numerically are not necessarily next to each other physically. I have been cast as far as possible from everyone else: there is no one from the program in the 19th or even the 18th district (which is understandable because the 18th isn’t really a good place to live). I am oalso pretty damned far from the schools I’ll be attending… I’ll need 2 transfers and 30min to commute. The 19th is’t a very nice area either, but it’s better than the 18th. From what I hear and read, the 19th is an ethnic neighborhood, so while there will be lots of (hopefully) good ethnic restaurants and shops, it won’t be a very affluent neighborhood. All I know is, if they don’t have internet, I’m gonna switch to another family… I can’t live like this.
Impressions of the city and my area to come. Stay funky.
-Vic