Parislog 4
Mar. 3, 2006

Well another couple of days have passed and I hit the “what the %$#@ am I doing” phase. I feel like a fish out of water. There is pretty much nothing familiar.
Every trip to the store is an exercise in comprehension and guesswork about whether or not it even sort of resembles what I want. I look at the people going by and know that I cannot make idle chat, not because it isn't allowed but because I can't speak enough or understand enough to engage in such fun banalities. Who would have thought about such a trivial consideration? On a bus today, a woman got on next to me and happily blathered something at me and all I could do was say "pardone?" She said something that meant "oops, didn't realize you don't understand
French" and that was the end of that conversation.

Last night 5 hours sleep. Couldn't get my eyes to close until 4AM. I read. I wrote. I did deep breathing. Nada. I have high hopes that any day now; click.

Yesterday I went to the Petit Palais, which has a free museum with everything from antiquities to art nouveau and impressionism. They had a beautiful vase collection of pieces that were exquisite. There was a large clock that had porcelain figurines all across the front and a row of tiny organ pipes across the back. Made me wonder what it might play. There were many pieces of wood inlaid writing desks and even one Boulle desk, which means that it is marquetry made of tortoise shell and silver. Very beautiful. There were a few Bonnard paintings that I really liked too.

On the broad avenue walking up to the Palais was the Alexandre III Bridge and on the four corners were pillars with gold statues decorating the top. When the clouds let the sun through, it was beautiful seeing them glisten in the sun. The little distraction in the picture was the hobo tent under the side of the bridge. Can you image being a street person in this weather? Nuts!

Walking to and from the Palais is a long grand boulevard leading between it and Les Invalides. On it were quite a number of groups of men playing petanque. This is a game a little like bowling in which there is one tiny red ball and everyone tries to lob his or her ball and get it to land the closest to the red one. It seems to be quite serious with a measuring tape and all. Usually when one sees pictures of this game it is under the trees in Provençe but this was under winter-denuded trees and with icy wind blowing onto the faces instead of hot sun.

I walked back from the salon d'antiquities (antique show) today and that was a 4km return trip. I guess that translates to about 2 and 1/2 miles. The street was quite nice while I was in the 16th arrondisement but then I crossed over the Seine into the 15th, not quite so nice. It isn't all the ancient Paris one dreams about.
It was ugly modern a little too often on the street on which I was walking. Wasn't my cup of tea. I did have a guy stop and ask me directions to a street.
That was funny but kind of flattering too. He didn't seem to realize that I wasn't a native even when I hauled out the city street map booklet. I guess in little short bursts my accent can stay hidden.

When I was at the antique show, I was able to strike up a couple of conversations and didn't do to badly.
I was told my one lady that I was doing well but she was showing me a gorgeous ring for 3300€ ($4000) at the time so perhaps her opinion was suspect.

Oh and I have an appointment Tuesday with the headmaster at the International School of Paris. Wish me good luck.