mercredi, mars 15, 2006
Diamants et princes
The Sydney Opera House is an iconic building. It is the proud home of the Australian Opera, the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, and the Australian Ballet, it is known throughout the world, and is one of the most photographed monuments in all of Australia.
But it doesn't have private boxes.*
The Opera Garnier in Paris does. And last night I sat in one! They're not very practical, and certainly don't give an unhindered view to very many people (and certainly not the cheapskates in €10 seats!), but they are wonderful! And since when was a night at the Opera about the practicality of a row of flip seats, and not about beauty and glamour and romance? For a short magical time, you feel like a beautiful sparkling part of the bourgeoise set in an Oscar Wilde or Dostoevsky novel, flitting along to your box at the opera, where you spend the night twinkling in your jewels, flirting with princes, gossiping about your friends, catching the eye of the mysterious count in the opposite box, and occasionally throwing a glance at the world famous performers there to entertain you.
Admittedly, last night was distinctly lacking in princes for a Wednesday night, but we definitely had our €10's worth! The Opera Garnier, the older of the two Opera houses in Paris, is just beautiful, full of marble columns, frescoes, gold leaf, ornate carved shiny wood, and red velvet a-plenty! The boxes are draped in velvet, the little chairs gold gilted, and you have a private little vestibule to hang your furcoat and check your diamonds, and an usher comes to open and close the door for you. It is as ornate as Versailles, yet in daily use by the Paris Opera and the Paris Ballet, and no doubt all sorts of people who fit better into the world of princes and counts than I do (though they don't usually go for the €10 seats).
Last night Ruxandra and I saw a beautiful production of Figaro, number two in our list of cheapie tickets at the opera house, the first being a ballet a couple of weeks ago, that was also wonderful. It was a modern piece (actually three pieces) by a choreographer called William Forsythe, and is where the photo below comes from.
If any of my lovely future visitors would like to go to a performance (BYO diamonds), let me know before you come, because to get these bargain tickets (especially considering that to visit the Opera House as a tourist, without seeing a performance is about €6!) you have to book about a month in advance.
*I don't think anyway- I've not sat in one if there is!
jeudi, mars 09, 2006
Épreuve de français
After over five months here, I feel that my french has definitely improved. I can get by in most situations without thinking too much about it, and have even recently promoted myself to answering ringing phones in the office status, to the point of asking people if they would like to leave a message. Although there are still plenty of things I can't say, and it is frustrating beyond belief to be tripped up when a seemingly simple idea (mixing negative conditional pluperfect is simple enough in english!) gets horribly mutilated and eyebrows crinkle at me, I can hold a conversation without too much difficulty, and frequently use nothing but french for whole evenings or lunchtimes without having to resort to wallflower status. I can manage cheese shops, florists, shoe shops, secretaries, even doctors.
But yesterday I underwent the most important examination of french I have taken since the HSC...
...A haircut!
After sneakily heading northernwards to swedish-speaking lands last time my hair got long and straggly and split-endsy, this time there was no relief in sight, and I had to confront the coiffeur, no notes or crib sheets in hand, no friendly translator standing by, just me and a scissor brandishing stranger.
The talk about what I wanted went fairly painlessly I thought, until she geared up the shaver thingy and started hoeing into the back of my head. My failure was going to be clear to all the world! They used to pin scarlet A's on adulterers, I was about to have an F shaved into the back of my head! After shaving me completely bald in five seconds flat, she moved onto the sides, and finally I could see that she was using the shaver rather than scissors and was thank god cutting the hair quite a bit away from my actual scalp! No F! No baldness!
In the end, I left with quite a normal haircut, no bald patches, no purple streaks. I don't know if it was an A+ haircut, but I think my french has gone straight to the top of the class!
But yesterday I underwent the most important examination of french I have taken since the HSC...
...A haircut!
After sneakily heading northernwards to swedish-speaking lands last time my hair got long and straggly and split-endsy, this time there was no relief in sight, and I had to confront the coiffeur, no notes or crib sheets in hand, no friendly translator standing by, just me and a scissor brandishing stranger.
The talk about what I wanted went fairly painlessly I thought, until she geared up the shaver thingy and started hoeing into the back of my head. My failure was going to be clear to all the world! They used to pin scarlet A's on adulterers, I was about to have an F shaved into the back of my head! After shaving me completely bald in five seconds flat, she moved onto the sides, and finally I could see that she was using the shaver rather than scissors and was thank god cutting the hair quite a bit away from my actual scalp! No F! No baldness!
In the end, I left with quite a normal haircut, no bald patches, no purple streaks. I don't know if it was an A+ haircut, but I think my french has gone straight to the top of the class!
lundi, mars 06, 2006
Mon cul bleu
On Sunday, I woke up with the sun on my face. Strong, warm, bright sun. Spring sun! Or so I thought. I believed it enough to convince Ruxandra that we should take advantage of the spring sunshine and go and hire a couple of bikes and pedal around the Bois de Vincennes, just east of Paris. Literally five minutes after getting off the phone to her, the clouds started rolling in, and the first drops were not far behind. However, spring weather being spring weather (I'm convinced spring is in the air, despite the stupid weather girls who keep contradicting me with their depressing prognoses of snow), by the time I emerged from the metro station all of 10 minutes after hurrying into it to escape the rain, a beautiful blue sky was back in place. And it continued like that the whole day.
The whole, highly successful, day, I should say. Because, despite a few wayward drops threatening to upset us a few times, we had a lovely day, cycling amongst naked trees (they also seem to disagree about this spring idea), dogs chasing balls and lycra clad joggers on our rented velos.
We took the train to the park, fearing worse than bruised arses in the Paris traffic, but our confidence improved after not hitting anything in lycra or fur, and so we cycled all the way back to the city centre on the homeward trip, and it was fine. So fine, that I am now thinking about getting a bike! A pretty Paris bike with a basket, that I can swan around on wearing pretty scarves and pretty shoes! Ideally an old thing in green or blue, and maybe even a rust spot or two, for authenticity.
One of the reasons I am thinking about this, other than all the associated prettiness, is that my cul needs to be trained up for my upcoming Provence adventure! Catherine-from-chemistry and I are doing a week long bicycle tour through Provence in May, and after the frightening bruising I've got going after just half a day day on a bike, I dread to think what a week and god knows how many kilometers would do to it! I dare say that there will be a lack of prettiness on this trip though, despite which I am itching with impatience in wait for!
ASIDE- I would also like to add how nice it was to get to speak to the lovely mesdemoiselles Sarah and Margaret at the happy occasion of Sarah and Matt's engagement party on Saturday! You made me feel very, hmm, not so much home-sick, rather friend-sick! I miss all you guys, and like I told Sarah and Margaret, stop going through all these exciting things for the next year or two until I can be there to share them! No more weddings UNLESS you agree to have them in Paris- a very romantic spot for a wedding I might add, and Margaret, I haven't forgotten your promise to move yours here either.
ANOTHER ASIDE- Things wouldn't be fair if I then didn't mention how equally lovely it was to speak to Annika today, on (or almost on... okay, so I was a day late, but the time difference was not in my favour) the happy occasion of her birthday! Happy birthday to her! No weddings for you either.
LAST ASIDE- Although I haven't spoken to him this weekend, I will take this time of plentiful asides and general greetings to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dad, who also celebrated his birthday yesterday, probably with a beach walk and a round of golf!
Hurrah for birthdays and engagements and kittens and mittens!
Ignore the writing on this picture if your eyes are good enough to read it, it is not intentional!
The whole, highly successful, day, I should say. Because, despite a few wayward drops threatening to upset us a few times, we had a lovely day, cycling amongst naked trees (they also seem to disagree about this spring idea), dogs chasing balls and lycra clad joggers on our rented velos.
We took the train to the park, fearing worse than bruised arses in the Paris traffic, but our confidence improved after not hitting anything in lycra or fur, and so we cycled all the way back to the city centre on the homeward trip, and it was fine. So fine, that I am now thinking about getting a bike! A pretty Paris bike with a basket, that I can swan around on wearing pretty scarves and pretty shoes! Ideally an old thing in green or blue, and maybe even a rust spot or two, for authenticity.
One of the reasons I am thinking about this, other than all the associated prettiness, is that my cul needs to be trained up for my upcoming Provence adventure! Catherine-from-chemistry and I are doing a week long bicycle tour through Provence in May, and after the frightening bruising I've got going after just half a day day on a bike, I dread to think what a week and god knows how many kilometers would do to it! I dare say that there will be a lack of prettiness on this trip though, despite which I am itching with impatience in wait for!
ASIDE- I would also like to add how nice it was to get to speak to the lovely mesdemoiselles Sarah and Margaret at the happy occasion of Sarah and Matt's engagement party on Saturday! You made me feel very, hmm, not so much home-sick, rather friend-sick! I miss all you guys, and like I told Sarah and Margaret, stop going through all these exciting things for the next year or two until I can be there to share them! No more weddings UNLESS you agree to have them in Paris- a very romantic spot for a wedding I might add, and Margaret, I haven't forgotten your promise to move yours here either.
ANOTHER ASIDE- Things wouldn't be fair if I then didn't mention how equally lovely it was to speak to Annika today, on (or almost on... okay, so I was a day late, but the time difference was not in my favour) the happy occasion of her birthday! Happy birthday to her! No weddings for you either.
LAST ASIDE- Although I haven't spoken to him this weekend, I will take this time of plentiful asides and general greetings to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dad, who also celebrated his birthday yesterday, probably with a beach walk and a round of golf!
Ignore the writing on this picture if your eyes are good enough to read it, it is not intentional!
mercredi, mars 01, 2006
Un grève à Jussieu
The government of Dominique de Villepin recently introduced the CPE - the contrat de première embauche, basically a contract for young people starting their first job, giving them less job security and less rights, but supposedly encouraging employers to give them a chance, and countering the chronic unemployment here in France, which especially affects young people, since usually employment is extrememly permanent here - once you have a position, it is very hard for the employer to get rid of you, leading to employers being unwilling to give an untried person a chance, because if you turn out to be shit, they are stuck with you anyway.
As one might guess, the young french militants are very much against the CPE, and as a result, the whole university is closed down for the grève, the strike. This means that the last two days, I've had to wait in the rain before some pimply brat with unwashed hair demanded who I was and what I was doing there (using "tu" to me, the nerve!), before begrudgingly letting me through the doors. According to the unions, it is only students and administrative staff on strike, not researchers like me, and especially not foreign researchers who really have nothing to do with any damn contracts or french politics!
The blockade.
Some of the crowd half protesting, half trying to get in.
But it is not so bad, it has meant a few short days at least, and the labs are pretty quiet (though the boss has returned today), and at least today it wasn't raining as I waited for the usual interrogation.
One of the professors here had a stroke of brilliance yesterday! He works quite hard, and fed up with idiots who don't even know that there is such as thing as a research department hindering him getting to work on time, he filled up an old shampoo bottle with water, and squirted the protestors in the faces after they finally let him in! He is about 40, and was so pleased with himself afterwards! I wish I could have been there to see that! However, he is not here today, so perhaps they got him back this morning...
