Besides the fact that I didn't get my outfit ready the night before, today felt just how the first day of school always feels - I was excited, nervous, anxious and tired all at once. I was a little worried that I went to bed a little too late last night and thought I might fall asleep to the melodic sound of French during class, but nothing of the sort happened. From the moment our teacher came in, it was go, go, go and all very interesting, too. There's only one guy in our class of nine and besides the two Brazilians, no one is from the same country. Let's see, there's someone from Columbia, Mexico, Austria, Spain, Russia and Serbia. Oh, and me of course from where else? Texas!

I didn't even realize the time flying by and before we knew it three of our four hours had passed and we hadn't taken a break. So, all the kids (us students who range in age from 18 to at least 27) grabbed some coffee at a little boulangerie where the topic turned to, what else? Politics - American politics to be exact. Everyone was so interested to know what a Texan thought of Obama's chances of winning the election and what could possibly be done with the election of a new president. I learned a bit, too. The Spanish girl told me that to some Europeans, it doesn't really matter who's in the White House because Americans always take the same stance on international politics. Wha? I think I missed something in the choppy English translation, but I thought that was an interesting bit of information to digest. When we returned from our coffee break, we got a little chastised for speaking English until I explained that we were discussing politics, which, to my surprise and content, our teacher quickly agreed was a necessarily English-only topic.

I'm really happy about this class so far. I've already learned so much, but know I have more to learn, still. One of the things that surprised our teacher was that more than half of us weren't very familiar with the past-tense, which kind of worried me at first. I remember learning the passe composee, but that was years ago and I don't remember all of the verb conjugations or past participles. It's something she's going to work with us on next time. It's amazing how much more efficient one can speak a language just by learning the past tense. I think I'll practice a little with Gui tonight - he's actually a really good teacher if I could just get past the idea that he's my husband and all.

I recently signed up with a site that hosts blogs for people all over the world going through similar experiences as me. They were nice enough to feature my blog as June's expat blog of the month, which you can read about here. I'm flattered and hope this will be another opportunity to make some new friends!

I hate to admit it, but I'm captivated by this.

I spent the better part of my day browsing through Les Soldes in the happening part of town today. It's funny because even though everything's on sale here, it's all still so expensive. I really need to get used to the idea of living with Euros. Since I can't work yet, I was only looking for things that we really "need," like, for instance trousers for Gui. He "needs" another pair because he's getting tired of wearing - and I'm getting tired of seeing him wear - the same two pair in rotation each week. So, I scooped up a pair of new slacks and a couple of very well-priced dress shirts for him from his favorite shopping destination, Zara. I hate going in there during soldes, though. I barely took two steps into H&M before busting a U-ey outta there. It's so. crowded. And this is in the early afternoon when everyone should be working...or studying...or something.

I haven't been to La Marais in a while, so I was happy to take in the loveliness of the neighborhood again. Gui's cool aunt lives around there and I was wishing she didn't have to work so she could have joined me in my (un-) shopping spree. I came away with two very reasonably priced tank tops, but my biggest treat of the day was stumbling upon this:

Yes, boys and girls, that's a very fake Pinkberry in the middle of Paris' 4th arrondissement. Myberry (with two little dots above the "y" in "my") is the latest copy-cat in the yogurt (or non-yogurt) hype brought on by the famous Pinkberry. I'm not gonna lie - I love Pinkberry and I would have eaten there every single day when we lived in Long Beach if Gui didn't give me the stare every time I asked(and if I could have afforded it). So, I walked past this place, giggling to myself, snapped a photo, walked some more, then turned right back around and indulged in a "0% fat" Myberry yogurt with mango and strawberries (they didn't have Cap'n Crunch).


And, it was GOOOOD! I'm glad I indulged because I inexplicably forgot to eat lunch (must've had something to do with all the half-price stickers on the walls) and didn't have another bite until sometime around 5pm.

How do walk-aholic Parisians maintain their feet so well?? Now that sandal season is in full swing, I'm desperate for a pedicure. I'm not sure how to even go about looking for one in French, and I'm scared to see how much a foot massage and paint job is going for around here. There aren't "nail ladies" at every intersection like back home, so it's going to take a little investigating on my part. I don't mind it, though. My feet have never walked like they do now, and they're screaming to be professionally exfoliated, smoothed and painted.

My most memorable dining experience while living in Italy for a summer was the seafood pesto ravioli that I had at a friendly trattoria in Genoa while visiting my former Italian professor. In fact, perhaps it's my most memorable dining experience ever since I mention it every time I have pesto pasta, which is pretty often. Since then, I've had good pestos, my favorite being the Trader Joe's store brand jar that's vibrant green and flavored to near perfection.

I've always wanted to try making my own sauce, but I wanted to wait until I had my own supply of basil. Last weekend Gui and I picked up a couple of plants to keep in our kitchen (I've since moved the chive plant to the outdoors for some much needed fun in the sun), and thus began my search for the perfect pesto recipe. Naturally, for my first experience making pesto, I chose the most physically-challenging (and most authentic) recipe I could find. It was a bit of a challenge, and I should have waited until I had a mezzaluna like the recipe calls for (I looked in two stores in our 'hood and didn't find one...booo).. But, it was worth it in the end. My hard work and sore arm were not in vain because I ended up with a very fresh and tasty pesto linguine. Next time, I'm trying pesto-stuffed chicken...or maybe I'll even give seafood ravioli a try.

And it's still this bright outside. We have something like 15 hours of sunlight everyday and I absolutely love it.

(FYI: The videos below are not the best quality and the sound can be a bit loud.)

Every year France opens its streets to musicians of all sorts for one full Saturday. Streets get jam-packed full of pedestrians, and at every corner a new genre of music envelops the block. After being comatose for a few hours in the early afternoon, we met up with some friends and headed out to the heart of Paris where we planned to catch some Rugby then follow the crowds towards the sounds of drums, amped-up guitars and synthesizers.

The first show we happened upon was drawing all kinds of foot traffic. It was some sort of orchestra-ish act, complete with trumpets, tubas, and other various instruments that had the street up in a roar. (I somehow only snapped video of the beginning/tamest part of the show.)



Moving along, we found ourselves in between two shows - one heavy metal act that was far too loud and totally unappealing to me and a strange, funky, not-sure-what-kind-of-music duo who had a more "mature" crowd engaged. Too bad the music from the "thrashers" across the street was trickling into the other band's show.



On our way to see a friend's band perform, we stopped to listen to a bit of jazz. It was meh.



The highlight of the fête was the last show we caught with an amazing singer (who we found out later is SIX months pregnant...and barely even showing!) and a band that included a very cool violinist, too (sorry, the clip sucks).



It was such a cool experience, and the fact that all of France opens its doors to showcase its talent is the most amazing thing. Sure, there are negative consequences to having so many people take over the streets of a major city...

... (and by the end of the night, it was at least three times as bad - hey, at least people were trying) but, it promotes the artistic abilities of every citizen, and it's what makes Paris such a cosmopolitan city. Here are a few more snippets from our day in the heart of Paris.