Forgive me Dear Readers,
It has been awhile since we've last spoken. And, well, the truth is, I've been busy. But, it gets a little deeper than that. Writing is one of my favourite mediums, and in order to do so, you have to remove yourself. You have to float above your subject and examine it. You have to seek out the key points and elaborate on them. And to be honest, I didn't want to wake up.
For this is Paris you see.
I have woken into a dream. Where every moment sparkles in champagne tones. Where celebration is a priority and the slow sip of perfect instants speed down the boulevard reckless. But let me build you the foundation, then invite you to the party on the roof.
School:
Banal but necessary, mon boulot. Et ça bosse fort. Let me see, where to drop you...
I walked into the Erasmus meeting late, as I misjudged my travel time. And there was a veritable buffet of nations. Mexico, Sweden, America, China, and the faces went on. After having the french version of Thevi, a german woman named Christina Vauguin, give us the details on life in Paris she explained how school was going to play out. Well, the admin side of it anyways. So on she went, you'll choose your courses in a meeting later, then you have two weeks to audit classes and get your schedule right. But for now, you have the week off, go enjoy Paris. Way ahead of you Madame.
So then I sit down, one on one style and we go through the choices. Yes, dear reader you heard me right, choices. Do I want to take psychology or do I want to take luxury brand management, advertising strategy or french history? I feel a little bit spoiled, but hey, I deserve it. So then the work begins. I thank my lucky stars for Bus 140 as the excel sheet springs to life. My first attempt at making a schedule is underway. This is where it gets a little sticky. For you see, being bilingual, I can take courses in both english and french, so now I have three separate campuses to choose from. And not to have conflicts (peace in the middle east), I must tread lightly. Also, I need courses that will correspond to my diploma back home. Fine. Schedule laid out after many a café au lait, and we're ready to go. Or so I think...
The free week few by, as my music, culture shock and house hunt consumed me. Soon it was time for the first day of school. Oh so exciting. Paris school is a beast unto itself. First let's speak on the culture. You want to talk about style. Mon doux. The women, and men I suppose by proxy, are so stylish, chic and beautiful it leaves no wonder as to why people flock here. There is by far, a higher standard of presentation than any city I've ever traveled to, and I've been some places. (A quick aside here, the vatos locos (my mexican homies and I) have coined the phrase, 'The Three Donation Rule,' meaning that during any metro ride, no matter how small, you will give your heart away at least three times.) It feels like class is really a giant Hugo Boss ad. Now there are three things you need to know about a class here in France: The students come here for free, social interaction is a priority, and the teachers are all stars, tired of their high social status, and after having done extensive traveling, they got bored with all their free time in the Seychelles and decided that teaching would be fun. One teacher took us through his advertising campaign for Adidas, and he is a tall man, but Kobe Bryant beside him in the photo is taller.
Alright, so stop staring at Julia Roberts, Angelina Jolie and Audrey Tatou and get to work. What class do I have now? Well dear, simple Canadian, that depends on what zodiac sign you were born under, what direction the wind is blowing in, and what type of Panini you had for lunch. For you see, they have cohorts just like us, but unlike us, their schedule changes every week. And you stick with the same cohort all the way through to your major. So I'm with COM1 for some classes, that means that I have public relations this Monday at 1530 for 3 hours, but next week it will be on Tuesday at 1000 for 1.5 hours. Makes sense right? Ohhh wait, that schedule is old, classes have changed, and although you thought you were early, your class that was supposed to be on thursday started an hour and a half ago. Pardon, my fault completely. Luckily, the faculty are very patient with their 'Petits Erasmus.' Classes are setup a little different as well. No working out of textbooks (just like the real world), handouts, powerpoints and internet links are your resources. Not much homework, just one huge all encompassing project at the end, no pressure though really. Sometimes there's no final exam either. So pros and cons, as with anything. But one thing that ab-so-fu**ing-ultely sends me, is the classroom dynamic. If you sit at the back of the class you will be up to date on Thierry's love life, Élodine's weekend and hear Joachim flirt with Julie, but that won't be on the exam, Media Planning will, and you can't hear the teacher because, as students are there for free.99, so they have all the time in the world to study at home. And they'll tell the teacher this as well. Think of having a great conversation with the cute student beside you, the teacher is distracted and calls you out. You then reply, 'I was just explaining to cutiepie the subtly of your lesson and then I was going to ask her out to dinner,' and the teacher goes, 'Do it on your own time,' and then you say, 'This is my own time,' the prof frustrated and helpless goes back to talking over you to the benefit of the first three rows. Not all classes, but some classes. Yet, that sword swings both ways.
Ever taken salsa classes at lunch, or eaten crêpes and smoothies while telling the DJ to turn it up? Camosun, the way the french put fun first, is simply human. Our double windsors are too tight. Everyday one student association or another is throwing something. I turn down more parties every week than I've been to in Vic. And I dated the girl from the Vengaboys (we like to party). 'Hey guys this is Phillipe, he's planning a ski trip to the Alps and he wants to tell you about it,' 'Everyone listen up, this is Amélie and she wants to invite you to the pre-Morocco boat trip.' Not to mention my french culture class. Hahaha, I love this class its all field trips: Le Louvre, Musée D'Orsay, Sacré Coeur, and it ends just in time for happy hour. And you get credit. Holla back.
I had to explain what the term, '9 to 5' meant to my french roommate, culture shock.
Quality of life vs. quantity of life.
Know both sides to walk the middle.
Enough business, now time for highlights:
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