Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Thursday, Aug. 03, 2006 - 1:16 p.m.

Some observations:
The French really love their coffee. The love it so much that every morning, they drink a bowl of it. Not a cup, not a mug, a bowl. What most of us would eat cereal out of, and about that size. In fact, I do eat my cereal out of a bowl that size, when I'm here.

Thierry la Fronde was a tv show here sometime in the past that, from what I can tell from the dvd commercials, was something of a french Robin Hood. The guy who played Thierry la Fronde really reminds the heck out of me of SNL's Bill Hader. So much so that I really wish SNL would do a Thierry la Fronde sketch featuring Hader. In horrible, fake French. Seriously. I know Hader could make it scream.

No matter how desperate I get for english language, I will never be so desperate as to watch Jackass.

I can flush exactly 4 squares of tissue paper down the toilet before I have to start worrying about clogging. Usually. Need I qualify how much this sucks?

I totally have shopping caddy envy.

I started work on the Pere Lachaise book yesterday. Today I felt bunk and stayed in, which I thought was fine, because it was supposed to rain. It did not rain, so I wasted a day. Tomorrow is also wasted, as I am spending time with my new friend Beth, who lives in a small village up by the France/Belgium border and is stoked as hell to have someone to speak english with. Seems the French are no more outgoing in small villages than they are in Paris. I thought it was hard to make friends in LA. It's even harder in France. It's not so much that the French are an unfriendly people, they just can't be bothered. I have figured out that's why Americans think french people are rude. So here's what you need to know about the French before you visit their country:

They don't care.

They don't care about your problems, your foibles, your desires, your needs, or whether or not they can communicate with you. A lot of Americans think the entire world revolves around them, so they take this laissez-faire attitude personally and start talkin' smack about how the French hate Americans. It's not personal. They couldn't care less about your issues, whether you're American, Spanish, Japanese or Algerian. They don't care when their fellow countrymen have a problem, either. It's just the way things are. That doesn't mean they aren't willing to help out in an emergency, because they are. It just means that in the day-to-day living of life, they figure if you're an adult, you can figure your own shit out, just like they do.

That being said, some of them are downright rude and inconsiderate, just like Americans are. But I encounter fewer assholes here than I do in a day in America; for instance, I don't resist venturing out here like I do in LA, which I swear rules the planet when it comes to assholes per capita. But yesterday I stopped to buy baguette on the way home, and the bakery guy (at the bakery I buy baguette from at least 2x a week and usually 3) starts talking to me in french, I think asking if I want a chocolate croissant or anything like that, since they were out of the sables I love so much. (giant shortbread cookies) So I say to the guy, "parlez-vous lentement, s'il vous plait," which means, "please speak slowly," and he says, "Non."

Just, no. Matter-of-factly and with a little head shake, like I had asked if he had any pie. And I'm like, "No?!" and he goes, "non." With that same head jiggle. And I laughed, because of the way he said it, but at the same time, I started thinking, you know, I buy my bread there every single week, and I buy sables when they have them, and I speak french every single time I'm there. I have never asked him to speak english, and I didn't ask it then, even though I know for fact he speaks it. He's the one who wanted to be understood, and yet, he would not condescend to speak a tad more slowly so I could sort the words out. So I thought, you know, I don't think I need to buy my bread here anymore. Sure, it's the best and least expensive baguette anywhere near my house, and I like the girl that works there and waves to me when I walk by, and whom I *have* once spoken in english to, when she explained what a sable was, but I don't think I want to spend my hard-earned money in a place where, when the guy who runs it is the one who wants to be understood, he still won't deign to speak a little bit more slowly so that I can understand him. Because that time, it actually was his problem, and he still couldn't be bothered. And those are not the kind of people I like, no matter which continent I'm on.

Did I tell you guys I'm also working on a book about the nuts and bolts of living in Paris? I just can't figure out whether to make it fiction, essay, or a how-to guide.

I still don't have cable. Or a phone. In fact, my landlord is studiously ignoring all attempts to reach him so that I can have them.

So, I got a photobucket account so I can post images for you guys, and here are a few.

As promised, this is my shopping caddy and air conditioner.

The Sainte-Chapelle at Chateau de Vincennes was completed in the 16th century and once housed Christ's Crown of Thorns. Or at least, a crown of thorns which is believed to have been the one Christ wore, and since another hasn't turned up in 2000 or so years, I'll give them that it is. A single thorn remains at Vincennes, but the rest was transported to the Sainte-Chapelle on L'Ile de la Cite, which was built specifically to hold it. It was later transferred to Notre Dame, where it resides today.

The 14th century donjon at Vincennes - tallest medieval tower in Europe. The donjon has been undergoing an 11 year restoration and won't be open until March, 2007. I got to go in the little building in front of it, where Charles V's offices were, as well as were some prisoners were kept. They had left graffiti on the walls of the cell, and I have to say, medieval french prisoners had much better penmanship than those today. Unfortunately, much of it has been destroyed, so they've been unable to decipher it. The long runs on either side of the central building out to the corner turrets are where the musketeers stood guard when the king was in his offices.

The biggest skeleton keys I've ever seen in my life. The smallest one was a little larger than a "normal" skeleton key we have here, by 10-20%. The largest one was about 9" long and opened the rear door of the sainte-chapelle. The key part at the bottom alone was as long as my thumb from the top of my bottom joint to the end. The middle one opened the bottom door to the house in front of the donjon, where Charles V's offices were. The smaller one opened the door to Chuck's office. The key parts were also more complicated than what you and I normally think of in a skeleton key.

Lavender in the Tuileries. I don't know what the big-leafed plant was, sorry.

A cross of sunlight on the dirt-encrusted floor of a crypt at Pere Lachaise, August 2, 2006:

I went to a chinese restaurant for dinner after shooting at Pere Lachaise, and an old gentleman hit on me. Imagine Marlon Brando with an incredibly thick french accent, and you pretty much have the experience. An older woman came in and was thrilled to hear me speaking english, so she joined in, which really irritated the gentleman. He pouted, and I caught him rolling his eyes once. The woman was from Iraq and has been displaced. She very graciously did not hold me in any way responsible for the muck up her country has become. I felt really horrible for her. I can't even imagine what it must be like for her to be a woman who can not go home, living in a land where she does not speak the language much better than I do. She was a very genteel woman, very nice and kind. It sucks her homeland's been ripped apart. I can not tell you how frigging awful I felt sitting across from her as the one with the government doing the ripping. I really realized, talking to her, how much it rips my heart out that America is no longer the America of my childhood. I hope we get our shit together soon.

I'm not going to get any more political than that with this post, but you guys need to know that what's going on between Israel and Lebanon right now is doing irreparable damage to America's image in the world. What few Arabs did not hate us after the mess we've made in Iraq are rapidly coming to hate us, now. They see us as 100% allied with Israel, helping them to destroy an impoverished people, not only uncaring and unsympathetic to the plight of those Lebanese civilians who have been cut off from escape and are unfairly suffering the wrath of Israel, but as willing and supporting participants in an attempt to commit genocide. I'm not here to say whether or not I think that's fair or correct, I'm just saying that's the perception. And perception is truth in this world, gang. This is extremely not good.

Peace out,
Katie

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