One Infinite Loop: A Road Trip- Part I

Two weekends ago I went on a road trip with three of my friends...

No, it wasn't like this:



Or this..


It was more like:

minus all the sex + this minus all the city


So, by process of reverse psychology it was this:

And since when one compares oneself and one's friends to the girls from Sex and the City it is obligatory to define exactly which character each of you are....

1. Regan was Carrie because she has the best style of all of us, and a fashion blog, and her mom's name is Carrie.
2. Ryan was Samantha because he's sexy.
3. I was Charlotte because I was the mother on board.
4. and Tom was Miranda because.. well someone has to be..

We picked up our chariot at Gare du Nord on Friday morning, spent about 20 minutes in the parking lot trying to figure out how to make the car go forwards and then were off like a herd of turtles. We looped around the Peripherique (the highway that encircles Paris, inhibiting the city from ever growing beyond it.. a concept that I quite like) and headed toward Chateau Fountainbleu.







There, we met up with my philosophy class, for a planned field trip with my professor. We toured the majestic palace that King Francis I built in 1527. Let's all take a moment and give it up to Francis for emphasizing the importance of writing and poetry and subsequently inventing the library system, and for being a great patron of the arts (supporting Leonardo Da Vinci among others). He was a pretty cool guy.



Fountainbleu is gorgeous and in some ways more in impressive than Versailles because it is all original and intact. Whereas Versailles is mostly copies of the originals, since it was gutted during the French Revolution.

After the field trip we hopped back in the car and headed off to our next destination. But before driving too far we stopped at a supermarket to buy lunch and munchies:

• A bag of apples
• a bag of oranges
• Muesli bars
• Baguettes
• Babybel Cheeses
• Dijon
• Ham

The apples and oranges were a great move. They lasted us the entire weekend. Which is pretty remarkable since Ryan and I would eat one or the other every time we got bored.

However, the same cannot be said of the muesli bars, which, despite my attempts to ration, were gobbled up almost instantly by Miranda- er Tom.

The Baguette, babybel and Dijon Sandwiches were our answer to a cheap fast food lunch. I think more bread landed on the floor of the car in the form of crumbs than in our mouths:

We were heading in the general direction of The Loire Valley where the Chateaux de La Loire are. Where we were sleeping that night, we didn't know. The sun set like a impressionist painting over the snowy fields. Every now and again we would stop the car to get our ya-ya's out. First at an open field near a nuclear power plant for a quick run through an open snowy field.
The next time to just jump for joy...


When it got dark we pulled into a small town called Ambroise and sent the boys out into the cold to find us an affordable room for the night. When things started to seem a little bleak and as if we were going to sleep in the car and die of hypothermia, our brave, valiant men found us a perfect room above a tiny bar for 40E a night. Did I mention there was a castle literally across the street.


After settling in having a drink with the locals in the bar downstairs, we went out to explore the night life, after all it was Friday night. But the thing about Ambroise is.. it's a ghost town. There was not a soul in sight. So we just explored; walking up a long flight of stairs to the top to the entrance to the castle that looks over the whole city,



walking along the cobble stone streets, stopping at every real estate office to pick out which Chateau in the French country side we were all going to chip in a buy.

We went to sleep that night at the juvenile hour of 11:00, as we had a long day of traveling and site seeing ahead of us.

The day had been "perfect" even though we had barely done anything but sit in the car. I can't speak for the others, but I had begun to feel a bit like I was in a vacuum, in limbo. It wasn't scary Catholic limbo, though, more like an equilibrium.

On the one hand this was an very "grown up" and "serious" thing to be doing full of warnings, consequences, and potentially anxiety inducing factors; renting a car for the first time, in a foreign country, etc. But on the other hand, I had lost all sense of time, urgency, obligation (not to mention my cellphone somewhere packed deep in the trunk of the car) and I felt like a child who had not yet been introduced to the concepts of past and future. I wasn't thinking about the end of the trip. The weekend seemed infinite at that point. All that existed to me was in that car; my 3 perfect friends, babybel wrappers, baguette crumbs and all.

France's infrastructure is made up of rotaries. The rotaries became kinda my thing. They are awesome; frequent, well marked, and fun to drive around. When we got lost (which we did quite a bit) it wasn't a big deal because we would just find the next rotary, circle around until we found the exit necessary to get back on the right track and continue on without ever having to stop or lose momentum.

The Artist- A Film Review

Last night, despite having been here for over a month and fancying myself decently advanced in my conversational french, I was reduced to a deer in the headlights by an encounter that readily required a response- a response I definitely had the vocabulary for. But when I opened my mouth to respond, not a single word came out.

Feeling very discouraged I lamented to a friend-

- My french is getting worse.

- No. It's not. That happens. It always gets worse before it gets better.

He went on to describe how when learning a language there comes a point when your brain begins transferring your language skills to a different part of your brain- from memorisation to instinctual. And this process can make you feel as if you are getting worse, when really you're getting better. I don't know if that's the case for me, I may just be around too many anglophones. But nevertheless, feeling wholly relieved, we linked arms, descended into the metro, doubled up in the turn style because he forgot his Navigo, and were off to the Cinema to see The Artist.

Sunk deep in our red velvety seats, watching the end credits roll, tears brimming in our eyes, all either of us could muster was a simultaneous, "Wow." This time it was my english vocabulary had abandoned me.

Before we entered the theater we had been expressign our disappointment in the line up of films this year. Where was our Slumdog?!

But here is was. Pure magic from the opening close up to the closing crane out. . Finally, a film that was experienced rather than watched, a film that was about something rather than someone (don't get me started with this new fascination with biopics), a film with a soul that hadn't sold out. An ode to cinema and its origins. A work of art.

(Don't worry, no spoiler alerts outside of what is in the trailer)

The Artist tells the story of a celebrated silent movie star, George Valentin. He is at the height of his career when the Great Depression hits; the invention of the Talky. Yes, the stock market crashes too, but for him the greater tragedy is the rapid adaptation to this absurd new techonology. He stubbornly resists to accept the future and is thus out of a job, out of a career, out of a raison d'etre.

On one level we're talking directly about the film industry. Switching from film to digital, from 2D to 3D. Those who resist the movements are seen as proud and stubborn- dinosaurs. Movies have only benefitted from the invention of sync sound. Milestones have ben crossed, masterpieces have been made. Watching The Artist it's easy to see the parisian Director Michel Hazanavicius right there chillin' with James Cameron saying "Accept the inevitable. Film is Dead." Since clearly, we all know what happened to silent films...

But then, remember what you just watched. A silent, black and white film with an archetypal story, in a hyperbolic world that somehow convinced you to go along for the ride. And then once you buckled up, it successfully made you feel for George at every romantic high or miserable low without a single spoken line of dialogue. But silent films are dead , right?

Throughout the main characters resistance to accept the new status quo he repeatedly says (in title cards, of course) " I won't speak." " I can't do it." " I don't want to talk." He even tries to speak in one scene and no words come out.

At this point, having already been 99% invested in the film, I fell to my knees and bowed down to the alter of Michel Hazanvicius. Had I not shared the same experience just a mere 2 hours before?

As technology evolves and advances, we are constantly required to learn new languages. With Facebook alone ordinary words took on completely different meanings.( Friend (vb) -ing -ed; Wall; tag; News feed)

Revolutionary technological advances replace and render their predecessor obsolete and unnecessary. Electricity vs. Oil Lamps for instance; or the iPhone vs. basically every other electronic device you've ever owned. Over the course of a couple months or years, the new language becomes second nature and we adopt the new invention into our lives. And the obseledia which it replaced begins by collecting dust in basements, then is piled in shelves at Goodwills and flea markets, proceeds to be recycled at landfills, and the finally lands in museums.

With one exception.

Advances in Art do not replace, they multiply. The language of art is such that once a new medium is created it can never disappear because all subsequent mediums are derived from the one before it and owe their existence to it. There is always new vocabulary to learn but you never have to learn a new language. Art can never be rendered obsolete. Although it does often wind up in museums :)

Financially, it seems inevitable that digital will replace film, and 3D will become more popular. But a technological advance is by no means synonymous with an advancement in quality. We won't be making better movies because they are in digital.

The Artist reminds us that film is an art form and to be a filmmaker you must be, well, an Artist. And if you approach filmmaking as an artist your film will always be composed with grammar and vocab from the Language of Film (Also the name of one of my favourite classes I took at NYU, taught by Nick Tanis) because you are drawing on the origins of filmmaking.

As my friend said, it always gets worse before it gets better. Isn't that the truth with all transformations? When we fight to keep the status quo, dig our heels in, hunker down for the fight, stubbornness and pride lead us valiantly to our own self destruction.

We fear we will lose something by accepting something else. But what about what we can gain? We can have both . We can carry on the cinematic tradition of completely captivating an audience in a digital and 3D world.

The Artist is proof of that.

But I guess what I'm really trying to say is; Don't worry, my french is not getting worse, it's actually getting better. But even when my French has finally transferred to the correct lobe, it will not replace my English, I will still be able to talk to you.

but in the meantime I will take the advice of this video:

Happy Valentines Day!

Happy Valentines Day!
Sending all the amour in my coeur to my family, friends, and faithful followers.
xoxox

Paris Vs. New York

An awesome visual comparison.

January: Highs and Lows

Last night Ryan and I cooked dinner for our 5 friends, while Tom moped around the apartment uselessly until we made him do the dishes.
One of my oldest friends from Ye Olde Town of Weston, Connecticut Regan Silverstien of Fashion Blog fame Yay or Nay her lovely roommate, their lovely friend Mike from their program, and my lovely friend Nicole from NYU Abu Dhabi were our guests of honor.

We wanted the meal to be fortifying, fruitful, and above all French. So we covered the main food groups Carbs, Cheese, Wine, and Chocolate

Premiere: Baguette and Cheese: Gouda, Brie, Caminbare, and this mysterious cheese that keeps sneaking it's way on to our on cutting board that smells and tastes like a dirty armpit.

Main: Pasta with a Mushroom cream sauce. Everyone enjoyed it except for Regan who is allergic to one thing: Mushrooms. There's one in every crowd

Apres: Bib Lettuce Salad with Dijon Vinaigrette.

Dessert: The ghetto 40 cents cheap version of Petit Ecoleres that have a kid on a skateboard printed on them instead of a scholarly 18th century student.



After meal we went around the table and said our high and low of the day, which made me think of my highs and lows of the trip so far. Since I basically am high all the time and have expressed many of those highs here on the blog I think I'll just go right in for the lows and not beat around the bush.

Low #1 The Temperature- Literally. It's really f-ing cold.

Low #2 The walk the trip to and from my shower across my airshaft everyday- (see above) which is why I have decided to stop showering

Low #3 That night my heating broke- (refer again to #1)

Low #4 My unrequited crush on my neighbor upstairs :(-- Whatever there are more baguettes in the basket

Low #5- This really awful night Ryan and I had where we missed the last metro, spent an hour trying to find a cab, witnessed a car accent, arrived home to my apartment with not a single edible peice of food in my kitchen, ate boiled germinated chickpeas with balsamic vinaigrette---But we laughed at our sorry state harder than I've ever laughed before so it doesn't really count. It was kind of a high.

1 Month Down

I'm coming up on my 1 month anniversary with Paris. I know there are certain rules about when, how and how soon to say this, but whatever.. I'm not ashamed.... I'm in love. It's safe to say my Valentine this year is le Ville de Paris.

The way I know it's been a month is my landlord, in all his lavender wool, came by the other day asking for the rent. Without that reminder I probably wouldn't have known. My concept of time has become rather primitive. I barely look at my cellphone except to receive basic logistical information. My free days are no longer scheduled or quantified by impossible checklists, leaving me with guilt at the days end of what was left undone. Instead, I "schedule" my days when I get home at night, noting where I went, who I saw, and what I did based on where the day took me. I get a lot more "done" this way.

Here is an sample itinerary I had on Monday:

9:00- Woke up; Water-colored

10:00- Met Tom and Ryan at a Cafe
10:30- Went on a walk with Ryan through the 16th Arrondisment- Got incredibly lost, ended up on the outskirts of Paris. No Map. Ate a Pain au Chocolat to comfort ourselves.
12:00- Reunited with Tom, Metroed to Le Marias (Republique Stop) to find a perfect Cafe to do homework in.
1:00- Found one on Place du Tournes; Deemed it too touristy; dragged the boys onward;
2:00- Got us lost again; Got yelled at;

Convinced them I knew where I was going again; Ended up on the cutest street in Paris I've scene so far: Rue des Rosiers
3:00- Found the perfect Cafe Volteur on the corner of Rue du Franc Bourgeouis and Rue des Hospitalières Saint-Gervais in the 3rd Arrondisement.


Sat, drank a Chocolat Chaud and read Robinson Crusoe while Tom and Ryan did Sudoku
5:00- Ate the best Falafel at L'as du Falafel
"Wow! Ann, are you a Local?" -Tom while this picture was being taken
7ish- Arrived home and did homework.


I had my first week of classes last week. I truly love them all. I'm taking 4 classes at NYU, 2 in French 2 in English, and 1 class at La Sorbonne in French. Since this is my last semester at NYU, I am stuffing all the subjects that I have never taken but would feel less human if I graduated without into this last 4 months. In other words, I have created a mini BAC for myself: Language, Art History, Philosophy, Literature, and Cinema/Anthropology.

But the great part of it is that I only have class Tuesdays and Thursdays, one class after the other until 5:30pm. :) Yes... 4 day weekends.

Life is rather pleasant here. But there have been some lows... stay tuned..

Mystery Watercolor #2

New Watercolor/Drawing Week 4

Bacchas!

Learn French in One Word

Thought this was funny...

Music From Le Piano Vache

Just Listen...