Université Paris-Dauphine

I mentioned in my last post that I have classes at two different French universities. One of these is Dauphine. Dauphine is an economic powerhouse, like the University of Chicago. Unlike my school, however, Dauphine doesn't have a big, beautiful campus. Instead, it's housed in the old NATO headquarters, which is a big building which is beautiful in a very different way from UChicago.





I have "The European Union: Integration and Policies" there once a week. Each class period at this school is 3 hours long: an hour and half of lecture, a fifteen minute break, another hour and a half of lecture. It can be exhausting, but the vending machines right down the hall from my classroom make the break a highlight of the day (A chocolate covered waffle is one of my options).

Besides the schedule, my Dauphine class differs from typical UChicago classes in another way: when the door is closed, the door is CLOSED. No one may enter or exit. This means no tardiness and no bathroom breaks. Knowing this, yesterday I left for class a little early (Drea wasn't ready yet, so I headed out alone) because I had a bad feeling. Sure enough, in my haste to catch the departing train at my transfer station, I hopped on the WRONG TRAIN. Of course, it took me five stops to figure it out--it travelled three or four stops in the same direction as the correct train, then diverged. I realized my mistake when I saw this out the window:


instead of what I was supposed to see, which is this:



Two trains later, I arrived (panting and sweating) outside the Dauphine classroom 5 minutes after class began; the doors were closed. Lesson learned: always look at the list of stops before getting on the train.

Weeks 1-3

So, I know, I haven't updated in weeks. Literally. But, imagine you're in Paris. And then imagine you have a giant, UChicago-sized workload. Blogging hasn't been at the top of my to-do list, but I'm trying to bump it up a little.

Lesson Infinity in Paris: The elevator don't necessarily stop if there's something in the way.

I was headed down to the basement to get out a load of laundry (more on that later) and as the elevator doors started to close, a man started running toward the elevator. Naturally, like any sane American would, I stuck out my arm to stop the doors. BAD idea. The doors did not care that my arm was there. Owch.


Since my first spurt of posts, Paris has proved its worth thanks to amazing crêpes, baguettes, chocolat chaud (hot chocolate), falafel, macarons, Chinese food, frites (French fries), thé (tea), lemon meringue pie, Mont-Blanc (I can't even describe it) and more. This lovely, lovely city is full of what I'm convinced are the best tastes in the world.

Bakery window I've passed at least 5 times without buying anything. Amazing self control (and already full belly).

This weekend was definitely my best so far in Paris. Alex came to visit from Barcelona, so this is him eating his first crêpe. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very good one. We both asked for egg and cheese (and he got ham), but the crêpe-maker didn't put the egg on. The result was far too dry. He's coming again, though, and we'll find better.

This is me eating my first falafel, which happened to be the best falafel in the world. It came from this little stand called L'as du Falafel in le Marais, which is the Jewish quarter. It's amazing and my smile only got bigger the more I ate. I've been back at least 3 times.

My friend Alicia took me to this little tea place, but I can never remember the name of it. I know where it is (it's on the same street as L'as du Falafel) and I guess that's all that matters. They have ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS Earl Grey and Vanilla tea, and mouthwatering desserts. Just LOOK at that Lemon Meringue. If I make it to heaven, I'm 97.3% sure that THAT PIE will be waiting for me.

In addition to eating the delicious food shown above, I've visited a French town called Chartres, ventured inside Notre Dame, taken a boat tour down the Seine, and taken classes at two French universities. From now on, I'll try to keep a better record of what I'm doing in Paris! À bientôt!

Chez Kayley

A few days ago, I realized that my handy little digital camera is out of battery and I forgot to bring the charger. Soooo, I haven't taken many pictures since I've been here. But today I remembered I have an iPod that takes pictures, so I'll start posting some. First up are the boring ones; this is where I'm living.

A view of my desk, along with the lovely Betty White calendar, a gift from Drea.




A close-up view of a shelf (and that lovely woman):




A close-up view of what's currently my favorite shelf ever (I'm going to all of the places for which I have tour books)!!!:





My bed area:




Closet:



It's very nice and surprisingly large. It's very convenient to be able to unpack and get settled here. Plus, I can keep things relatively organized since I came only with one suitcase. The walls are really drab and need a little (or a lot of) TLC. Soon I'll get my Betty White calendar up and maybe cut up some French magazines to tape on the walls.

Day 2. Lessons #2, 3, and 4 in Paris

Lesson #2 in Paris: Parisians will look at you weird or make annoyed noises when you tell them you're vegetarian, but then they will bring you delicious food.

A much better day, today all UChicago students in Paris got a tour of the Center (where most classes are) and then a lunch at Café Bibliothèque. Sitting at the tables in front of us were bottles of red and white wine; then immediately when we sat down the servers poured some sort of wine that tasted like Manischewitz. First course, some sort of fish. I didn't say anything when the server put the plate down in front of me (really brave and intelligent, I know), so I left it to our group leader to sort it out. After she told him, he hurried away, shaking his head, going "AIIiiii aiii aiii!" I feared a multitude of things:
a) Spit in my food
b) Secret meat in my food
c) Serious attitude served along with my food, and
d) No food at all
To my pleasant surprise, I ended up with a delicious bowl of (what I think was) Sweet Potato Soup. The next course was pasta with pesto (also delicious) and the last was some sort of chocolate cake with a molten filling and what might have been gingerbread ice cream on top. Then they gave us coffee.

So, yeah, those rumors are (so far) true. The French can cook. AND ALSO, one of the servers was nice. Very pleasant start to a day.


Lesson #3 in Paris: Everything really is very expensive

The mecca of Monaprix. Like Target, Monaprix has EVERYTHING, with a few extras. They have a nice makeup counter, every food item one could possibly want, etc.. Unlike Target, however, Monaprix's price tags have a higher number on them--and they're in Euros. The 60 I brought with me barely covered the bare essentials. On the brighter side, the cashier was surprisingly friendly, even when she had to price check an item I bought that didn't have a tag on it.


Lesson #4 in Paris: The French love of personal space and privacy does not extend to rush hour RER (Réseau Express Régional) rides

The station was packed and we couldn't even shove onto the train like a lot of the Parisians. And I mean they shoved. And got stuck in the doors. And continued to shove until the doors closed behind them. We got into the second train that came by and there was no need to hold on--the people on every side of everyone were enough.

Day 1. Lesson #1 in Paris: The rumors are true; Parisians aren't the nicest people.

Lesson #1 in Paris: The rumors are true; Parisians aren't the nicest people.

Maybe (hopefully) eventually (very soon) I'll learn that this in, in fact, a giant myth.

The customs officer was, in retrospect, very nice and kind of funny. But since the joke was that he wasn't going to let me into the country because I didn't look like my passport picture--"Something something cheveux courts something something différents"--I failed to find very much humor.

After an incredibly relieved reunion with Drea, a long taxi ride to Cité (where I'm staying), an awkward but mostly smooth check-in and arrival in my room, it was time to eat. It was Sunday. At like 2:00. Nothing (absolutely nothing) was open. After walking aimlessly for 15ish minutes, passing closed Boulangeries and some sort of restaurant called Chez Alex, we found a little liquor store-type thing. We bought bake-them-yourself baguettes and a jar of nutella each.

We feasted, then went on a "tour" of the area, which consisted of loading up our transit cards (unlimited bus/metra rides for a month!!!) and taking the metra 2 stops to go to some sort of supermarket. After getting a couple things, we decided to try the Pharmacie across the street. The haughty, disgruntled Parisians bunched in what they might have thought was a line gave us infinite dirty looks when we tried to get through to look at everything. One extremely disgruntled man yelled at us.

Completely discouraged, I returned to my room to sleep.