Monday, October 17, 2005
Paris by night
Contrary to popular belief, I do not have WiFi access at the moment. The internet situation is a bit complicated, which can be said for everything else in Paris, because I am told I have WiFi at the library in the Foyer International des Etudiants (dorm) but for some reason my laptop cannot catch the signal. This is driving me up the wall and I need to ask the librarian who is never there, how to work the network.
Another bit of annoyance provided by the library is when I put in 10 cents to make photocopies of my passports and student I.D. card today and nothing came out. No copies. No money back. Turns out the machine was out of paper and as usual, no librarian. So, I am very angry because I am pretty broke and the machine took my 10 cents.
It may be asked, ' how did Mariam get broke so soon?' Well, technically, I still have money in the bank because my wonderful dad sent me some but I am now on a tight budget because I have been clubbing way too much in the past few weeks. With the cost of drinks, cigarettes, cover, cabs (the métro closes at 1:00AM) and daily expenses raining on me I may have spent around 80 euros last week. I am well aware of how horribe this is and so have vowed not to smoke or party in the near future or until I have found a job.
Speaking of clubbing, Paris is a great place for partying if one has the cash and the know of where to go. Lots of research is recommended because Thursday night can be fun at the Mix but it will suck very horribly Friday night. Also, pre-gaming is the way to go unless 5euro shots and 7 euro beers are up your alley. Also, some places charge exhorbitant amounts for cover and this is usually at the touristy places like Champs Elysées and Pigalle, but girls usually get in free or one has to go before midnight to avoid the charge.
Before coming to Paris, I had heard that it has a crazy Salsa scene but whoever told me that (I forget who) should be shot with a semi-automatic because that is not true. Maybe I am not aware of other spots but to my knowledge there are only two salsa clubs, the Latina Cafe; which is great since it is free for girls and 8euros for boys, and the Barrio Latino; which sucked majorly when I went because I went on the wrong night and they charged 8 euros for everyone plus 2 euro coat check for each piece of item. Bastards!
Most of the clubbing scene in Paris is your usualy European techno beat scene. Lots of guys who are either metrosexual or gay frequent the clubs and girls who are tall, skinny and blonde. The Erasmus party every Thursday at the Mix, situated next to 'centre Montparnasse', is really cool since they have a mix of techno, hip hop and some latin beats. The DJ is awesome but sometimes, for reasons unbeknownst to me, he plays 'New York, New York'. However, one tires of the Erasmus party very quickly. The second time I went there I was just not in the mood. It could have been because I was broke and Lisa insisted on taking me there or it could have been due to the weird gay leprauchaun who kissed my naked shoulder. Either way, I just wanted to go home.
Moving on, I cannot write about my parisien clubbing experiences without mentioning Lisa. Lisa is, by far, the most hard-core party-er I have ever met in my entire life. She is extremely fun and gets wasted almost every single time. Miraculously, she is able to handle herself and give lip to the insane losers who dare approacher her, while being utterly intoxicated. I have given up trying to catch up with her partying level and have resigned myself to admire her skills for afar. She is able to talk any guy into buying her a drink, something that I have never been able to do, and have them walk her home to boot; all of which without ever compromising herself for them.
As for me, the only time I have ever had someone ask me for my number while I was partying with Lisa was actually when I was waiting for the Nightbus with Lisa after the party. Lisa and I were making fun of a guy passed out on the bus stop bench and a guy overheard us. The guy was Vincent. Lisa ran off to her bus and left me alone with him, whereupon I bummed a cigarette from him, in french. It was the Erasmus party night when I did not have any fun and so I was completely sober, having not had any money to get wasted. So, Vincent and I started talking and he was really nice and funny, albeit too sarcastic at times. Since nightbuses take a fucking hell of a long time, he and I continued our conversation, in English, to the wee hours of the morning and finally he asked for my number. I gave it to him and we parted ways when his bus arrived. I waited for a few minutes longer but being the impatient Aries that I am, decided to fuck the night bus and ended up taking a cab home and Vincent's number.
Contrary to popular belief, I do not have WiFi access at the moment. The internet situation is a bit complicated, which can be said for everything else in Paris, because I am told I have WiFi at the library in the Foyer International des Etudiants (dorm) but for some reason my laptop cannot catch the signal. This is driving me up the wall and I need to ask the librarian who is never there, how to work the network.
Another bit of annoyance provided by the library is when I put in 10 cents to make photocopies of my passports and student I.D. card today and nothing came out. No copies. No money back. Turns out the machine was out of paper and as usual, no librarian. So, I am very angry because I am pretty broke and the machine took my 10 cents.
It may be asked, ' how did Mariam get broke so soon?' Well, technically, I still have money in the bank because my wonderful dad sent me some but I am now on a tight budget because I have been clubbing way too much in the past few weeks. With the cost of drinks, cigarettes, cover, cabs (the métro closes at 1:00AM) and daily expenses raining on me I may have spent around 80 euros last week. I am well aware of how horribe this is and so have vowed not to smoke or party in the near future or until I have found a job.
Speaking of clubbing, Paris is a great place for partying if one has the cash and the know of where to go. Lots of research is recommended because Thursday night can be fun at the Mix but it will suck very horribly Friday night. Also, pre-gaming is the way to go unless 5euro shots and 7 euro beers are up your alley. Also, some places charge exhorbitant amounts for cover and this is usually at the touristy places like Champs Elysées and Pigalle, but girls usually get in free or one has to go before midnight to avoid the charge.
Before coming to Paris, I had heard that it has a crazy Salsa scene but whoever told me that (I forget who) should be shot with a semi-automatic because that is not true. Maybe I am not aware of other spots but to my knowledge there are only two salsa clubs, the Latina Cafe; which is great since it is free for girls and 8euros for boys, and the Barrio Latino; which sucked majorly when I went because I went on the wrong night and they charged 8 euros for everyone plus 2 euro coat check for each piece of item. Bastards!
Most of the clubbing scene in Paris is your usualy European techno beat scene. Lots of guys who are either metrosexual or gay frequent the clubs and girls who are tall, skinny and blonde. The Erasmus party every Thursday at the Mix, situated next to 'centre Montparnasse', is really cool since they have a mix of techno, hip hop and some latin beats. The DJ is awesome but sometimes, for reasons unbeknownst to me, he plays 'New York, New York'. However, one tires of the Erasmus party very quickly. The second time I went there I was just not in the mood. It could have been because I was broke and Lisa insisted on taking me there or it could have been due to the weird gay leprauchaun who kissed my naked shoulder. Either way, I just wanted to go home.
Moving on, I cannot write about my parisien clubbing experiences without mentioning Lisa. Lisa is, by far, the most hard-core party-er I have ever met in my entire life. She is extremely fun and gets wasted almost every single time. Miraculously, she is able to handle herself and give lip to the insane losers who dare approacher her, while being utterly intoxicated. I have given up trying to catch up with her partying level and have resigned myself to admire her skills for afar. She is able to talk any guy into buying her a drink, something that I have never been able to do, and have them walk her home to boot; all of which without ever compromising herself for them.
As for me, the only time I have ever had someone ask me for my number while I was partying with Lisa was actually when I was waiting for the Nightbus with Lisa after the party. Lisa and I were making fun of a guy passed out on the bus stop bench and a guy overheard us. The guy was Vincent. Lisa ran off to her bus and left me alone with him, whereupon I bummed a cigarette from him, in french. It was the Erasmus party night when I did not have any fun and so I was completely sober, having not had any money to get wasted. So, Vincent and I started talking and he was really nice and funny, albeit too sarcastic at times. Since nightbuses take a fucking hell of a long time, he and I continued our conversation, in English, to the wee hours of the morning and finally he asked for my number. I gave it to him and we parted ways when his bus arrived. I waited for a few minutes longer but being the impatient Aries that I am, decided to fuck the night bus and ended up taking a cab home and Vincent's number.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Lost In Space
Homelessness is a problem that is rampant in every country. It is an issue that is hard to tackle because nobody wants to have the burden of housing every single citizen since it is a very expensive task. Also, in most peoples' minds, the homeless are often poor, drug addicts, alcoholics and they reek of urine. This image discourages folks from wanting to associate with anything that has a connection with these 'citizens of the world'.
If, years ago, I was told that I would find myself out on the streets one day, I would have laughed my evil, snobby, witchy laugh (the manga kind) and snorted the thought away. However, after arguing with my psycho au-pair family over their uncontrollable and disgusting, 'butt-obsessed' children, I haughtily walked off and told them that I did not want to stay with them anymore. I called my friend, Jeremy, and asked to stay with him for a bit. At first, it felt refreshing to be away from the parents of the family who had yelled at me for every little thing and even said that I seem to be always 'dreaming' ( ditzy, in other words). But, as the saying goes, 'Pride goes before the fall' and for the past week and the half I have truly been homeless; I did not have my own room, my own toilet, my own address.
It is really frustrating not to have an address. I got so irritated when I was asked where I stayed and I had to say, ' oh, i am crashing with a friend' and people look at you with sad doe eyes, although my friends were kind enough to offer whatever help they could give. The most annoying thing is that in Paris, if you do not have an address, and therefore a fixed telephone LAN line, you really cannot survive. You cannot have a bank account, you cannot apply for student cards, you cannot do anything even if you do have the money to pay for these things; the agencies just will not accept you.
After realizing how horrible being homeless is, the next step to take is to find an apartment. Good luck with that. In Paris you have plenty of rooms, sublets, apartments and houses to choose from; most are horrible, all are expensive, none worth the money that you pay for. I checked out two places before I ran to wonderfully excited Dr. Costello, begging to get a dorm room instead.
The first place I checked out was a two storey house at Porte d'Orleans. It was horrendously ugly on the outside but very pretty and cosy inside. The landlady was an old British woman who is an artist and who freaked the shit out of me as she opened the door to let me in. Her face was saggy and she wore something close to a 40's ugly flapper outfit, complete with head band. She had green eyeshadow smeared across her face and on her pinched snake eyes. She really frightened me with her look of something between a witch and a clown. But, she is actually a lovely lady who asked way too much for her house that I would have to share with two other girls. 600 euros/month is just too steep for this lost sheep.
The next place I had on my list was so horribe that I wanted to run the moment I walked into the digustingly tiny apartment. It was a place owned by a snobby photographer whose nose was positioned so far above me that I thought he would have a nose bleed. By the end of the 'interview' I wished he did. He was quite rude but what really pissed me off is that he asked me to pay 600 euros/month for a room that is just a bed space above a bathroom, both of which have no doors! I just skidaddled out of there as soon as I could.
So, after the fruitless one-day apartment search I talked to Dr. Costello who has wonderfully set me up, not at the Foyer Naples where everyone else from UIUC is, but at Foyer International where no one I know stays. I have a nice single dorm room and the dormitory is situated right next to the Jardin du Luxembourg. Although, now, living in Paris costs a lot more than it did when I was doing the au-pair job, the important thing is that, being at the Foyer, I now have internet access. Hail WiFi.
Homelessness is a problem that is rampant in every country. It is an issue that is hard to tackle because nobody wants to have the burden of housing every single citizen since it is a very expensive task. Also, in most peoples' minds, the homeless are often poor, drug addicts, alcoholics and they reek of urine. This image discourages folks from wanting to associate with anything that has a connection with these 'citizens of the world'.
If, years ago, I was told that I would find myself out on the streets one day, I would have laughed my evil, snobby, witchy laugh (the manga kind) and snorted the thought away. However, after arguing with my psycho au-pair family over their uncontrollable and disgusting, 'butt-obsessed' children, I haughtily walked off and told them that I did not want to stay with them anymore. I called my friend, Jeremy, and asked to stay with him for a bit. At first, it felt refreshing to be away from the parents of the family who had yelled at me for every little thing and even said that I seem to be always 'dreaming' ( ditzy, in other words). But, as the saying goes, 'Pride goes before the fall' and for the past week and the half I have truly been homeless; I did not have my own room, my own toilet, my own address.
It is really frustrating not to have an address. I got so irritated when I was asked where I stayed and I had to say, ' oh, i am crashing with a friend' and people look at you with sad doe eyes, although my friends were kind enough to offer whatever help they could give. The most annoying thing is that in Paris, if you do not have an address, and therefore a fixed telephone LAN line, you really cannot survive. You cannot have a bank account, you cannot apply for student cards, you cannot do anything even if you do have the money to pay for these things; the agencies just will not accept you.
After realizing how horrible being homeless is, the next step to take is to find an apartment. Good luck with that. In Paris you have plenty of rooms, sublets, apartments and houses to choose from; most are horrible, all are expensive, none worth the money that you pay for. I checked out two places before I ran to wonderfully excited Dr. Costello, begging to get a dorm room instead.
The first place I checked out was a two storey house at Porte d'Orleans. It was horrendously ugly on the outside but very pretty and cosy inside. The landlady was an old British woman who is an artist and who freaked the shit out of me as she opened the door to let me in. Her face was saggy and she wore something close to a 40's ugly flapper outfit, complete with head band. She had green eyeshadow smeared across her face and on her pinched snake eyes. She really frightened me with her look of something between a witch and a clown. But, she is actually a lovely lady who asked way too much for her house that I would have to share with two other girls. 600 euros/month is just too steep for this lost sheep.
The next place I had on my list was so horribe that I wanted to run the moment I walked into the digustingly tiny apartment. It was a place owned by a snobby photographer whose nose was positioned so far above me that I thought he would have a nose bleed. By the end of the 'interview' I wished he did. He was quite rude but what really pissed me off is that he asked me to pay 600 euros/month for a room that is just a bed space above a bathroom, both of which have no doors! I just skidaddled out of there as soon as I could.
So, after the fruitless one-day apartment search I talked to Dr. Costello who has wonderfully set me up, not at the Foyer Naples where everyone else from UIUC is, but at Foyer International where no one I know stays. I have a nice single dorm room and the dormitory is situated right next to the Jardin du Luxembourg. Although, now, living in Paris costs a lot more than it did when I was doing the au-pair job, the important thing is that, being at the Foyer, I now have internet access. Hail WiFi.
