Citation profonde

Schopenhauer:  "One thinks differently in every language, (...) our thinking is modified and newly tinged through the learning of each foreign language, and polyglotism is, apart from its immediate advantages, a direct means of educating the mind by correcting and perfecting our perceptions through the emerging diversity and refinements of concepts. At the same time, polyglotism increases the flexibility of thinking since, through the learning of many languages, the concept increasingly separates itself from the word."

Sent to me by Madame Pascal-Anne Brault, bien sur!

Les Passages: Lumineux, mysterieux, adventureux

Of all of the many amazing nooks that Madame Brault has opened our senses to on this trip, my personal favorite is the collection of what is called "The Passageways."  Created between buildings in sort of alleyways, these covered passageways became a haven of bustling shops, and sometimes prostitution in the 19th century.  There were some 200+ passageways in their time, and only some 30 or so remain today. They are becoming more attractive to tourists that are looking for something off the beaten path, and are mostly frequented by locals or those looking for specialty items.  Some still house shops (mostly couture and high-end fashion for the wealthy that want a secretive and private shopping experience) while others lay dormant or in the midst of renovations.  They are spectacular with their combination of natural and artificial light, and shimmer like diamonds in the rough of Parisian antiquity with their gilded decor. 

 One certainly feels privileged to find them, as they are more easily stumbled upon than found when looked for, and exits feeling as though they have just been a part of a well kept secret---eager to tell a friend, but apprehensive about sharing their clandestine treasure.   

Je flâne....

I recognized that I was fortunate to have been able to come on this trip the moment I received the acceptance letter, but I am realizing more and more, just HOW fortunate.  THIS trip is a special one; this study abroad is like no other. Pascal-Anne Brault, my advisor, professor, and mentor, is the coordinator for the trip and is determined to educated us in every possible aspect of Parisian culture and history.  I feel very deeply privileged to be by her side and to be soaking up every drop of knowledge she happens to let drip, or rather cascade, from her ever overflowing cup of the wine of Wisdom.  

Reading Balzac and Baudelaire--both of which have changed my life a good bit, both in shaking of my approach to thinking, my perspective on the world (and my immediate circle), and also in simply inspiring me in a way that I have not felt since reading The Grapes of Wrath in high school.  I cannot seem to find ultimate satisfaction, and am constantly thirsting for more.  If I had the chance, I would probably sit and read Baudelaire out loud all day long (hoping to do it any justice at all) just to hear the sounds lapping over each other, slowly, like chanting or a sort of singing.  

Our long walks are not only "bon pour le santé," but are "bon pour l'esprit" as well. (I really wanted to use "sanité" there for the alliteration but alas, not a word in french).  I have officially chosen the topic of my 6 page french dissertation to be "Le flaneur" which has no direct english translation that can do it any justice---only that it is the idea of the bourgeois gentleman of the 19th century that spent his time walking through the crowds and simply people watching, observing if you will, the changes of his era.  I have chosen this topic because, ultimately, I feel as though I am its updated version.  I stroll about attempting to filter the tiniest elements of my new surroundings, understanding the language well enough to communicated thoroughly, but mostly to eavesdrop on conversations swarming around me like bees to a hive.  I am still very much a foreigner, more at home in a crowd than in individual conversation, and like the flaneur, become a sort of detective trying to solve the mysteries of all that is change.  We are communicating, myself and this archetypal character, through timeless portals of literature and tiny parisian streets, and I find his style of courtship more and more addictive as we progress in our relationship.  

je t'aimais, je t'aime, et je t'aimerai

So today it happened: the cliché.  I have fallen for it... love in the city of love in the season of love. I had just left a sort of dinner party, when after descending the most charming old staircase and exiting onto a street bustling with charming people, I too felt the charm.  I turned to face the sun, surprised to find that it was just then setting, and my breath was swept away.  It was perfect, like all those paintings by little old men in berets  that seat themselves on the banks of the Seine hoping to impress a tourist or two into buying their life's work.  Some Gothic tower framed the colors between its ornate structural beams attempting to create its own stained glass equal to that of Notre Dame or St. Chapelle.  I felt myself begin to swagger, as if to show the world that those windows were for me alone, and that I am worthy of such an expression of love.  I had only one thought.... head towards the Seine.  It was almost a kind of dance I was performing with the others in the street,  my pace quick, but not rushed.  I reached Notre Dame just as the bells were sounding the setting of my sun.  I stopped and turned to watch them, unseen, singing to the tourists at their feet, and all fell into place.  A little boy dispensed his energy in the square, ending his sprint just as the bells fell silent.   I took a breath of the city air, intoxicated by its strangely sweet and refreshing redolence.   I felt as though someone had just whispered something, meant for only me to hear, a secret between us two.  Yes, indeed, my love is Paris---not the Greek personage, though I hear he was quite the lady-killer---it is the city.  It is indeed the city of love because you need not fall in love with someone else while in its presence, only the city itself.  

Lose some, win some; a look at the urban canvas

I have discovered on this trip, more than ever before in my life, that I am incompetent at directions (be it giving, following directions, or telling where I am) and that I am also inept at planning vacations for myself.  In my haste to not bypass a good deal or have a trip cost more than it should, I do not read the crucial fine print.  I will not discuss the detriment to which I found myself this morning when, after planning a trip to Lyon, had to cancel it for an outing with the DePaul group-----an outing which, mind you, is not certain, and if it does not happen, someone will have to hold me down to keep me from hurting someone/thing (including myself).  Regardless of my ultimate realization of my incompetencies, I did manage to make good and carpe diem.  

After struggling with finances, I finally managed to make it out of the house before noon (having woken up at 7) and take a venture to the Grand Palais to see an exhibit in its last view days of viewing.  The exhibit was called "TAGS" and was a display of graffiti art created specifically for the collector.  The artists were asked to copy a tag of a previous era, then continue the style or inspiration onto the rest (1/2 half) of the canvas with the idea of Love.  I personally am fascinated by graffiti as a sort of forbidde

n, rebellious art form.  The written discussion upon entry compared graffiti to Jazz, which I found profound and very insightful.  The exhibit ranged from (inspirationally speaking) 1960s-2009, and was held in one room. 

Perhaps it is my love of vibrant colors and/or controversial subject matter, but I feel that graffiti art embodies the kind of understanding of a culture in chaos that the rest of the world can only begin to grasp. In indirectly quoting the discussion previously mentioned-- it is the personal expression of those attempting to cope with the severity of their surroundings.  It is often a humorous take on a serious subject--not such a foreign concept, using humor to break up depressing circumstances--which simultaneously characterizes the competitive nature of the culture, emphasizing the need to prove one's worth to survive.  

Interestingly enough, my current study of the Impressionists centers on the term "Modernity," that is to say, the true sense of one's time, nothing romanticized, idealized, but rather split-second analysis of one's world as is in the moment.  In their time, it was the creation of a new era, the beginning of an industrial world  as never thought conceivable until that point in time.  This exhibit, while not grappling with a new industrial age, also expresses a sense of modernity.  Graffiti art is a glimpse into the world of the underprivileged through their eyes.  It is not an outside observation but a personal impression of a momentary emotion, state of mind, state of being.  Pregnancy, racial hatred, self-hatred, ethic pride---these are the signs of modernity for these young people, these new Impressionists.  Their canvases are forgotten places, though not necessarily hidden---as a matter of fact, usually not---but rather those overlooked day after day, much like themselves.

And thus, I would like to suggest that whenever you feel down and discouraged, go view some graffiti and feel uplifted by its optimistically colorful approach to life's challenges; if nothing else, the colorful spirit of the images will take your mind of your troubles for enough seconds for you to then successfully move on with your day. 

"Voila le carrefour de la vie, jeune homme, choisissez"

As Honoré de Balzac so elequently explained: 

"Voila le carrefour de la vie, jeune homme, choisissez." 

Translation: "Alas, you have come to the crossroad of life, young man, choose your path." 

I feel that this quote has been present in my life from day 1, and that I have always been eager to turn my back to it.  As many of my friends and family know, I have an aversion for making life decisions, which I attribute to my slightly controlling nature--I want to be the decider of my own destiny and when I cannot tell the future outcome of a decision (which is always the case) I am uncomfortable and relatively unconfident.  I dance around the subject trying to create

 eloquent arguments in hopes of eventually convincing myself in the way of one of them.  I have a tendency to take a pole, a survey if you will, of what others think with the idea to push myself in a particular direction.  This has not changed throughout my 22, almost 23 years of life, and probably will never change.    

In regards to the most recent of my life dilemmas, I have to say, I managed to make a decision all by my grow-up self with only asking 1 person for advice--and ultimately knowing that he would not steer me in a clear direction.  My problematic situation was this:  I was accepted for a teaching assistant position in Nice, France, my dream destination, but not before I was informed by someone currently in the program that it is not as romantic as one would think.  She is not in Nice but some small town somewhere else in France, but regardless, it does not change the fact that the assistants are paid just enough money to live and are expected to live off savings for the first 2 months until the payments from the school go through.  It was a bit of a downer to get this news, in combination with that little piece of info she mentioned about them taking most anyone---i.e. they are not as picky as I had thought.  As someone who is keen on competition and prestigious opportunities, I was a bit disheartened.  At this same time, I had received an email asking for an interview for an internship position with Shakespeare

 Theatre Company in Washington, DC, wherein the 2 chosen costume interns work for 1 year in different positions and on different aspects of the costuming process; they are housed and paid a stipend.  This whole time, I am waiting to hear anything from Cirque Du Soleil for which I compiled an online profile for a particular job.  

One would choose the second option, most likely, with the thought of saving money AND taking part in an incredible opportunity to jump-start one's career.  That being said, the problem lies in my constant struggle between my lifelong passion for french and my more recent ambitions in the world of theatrical costuming.  While not untalented at either, I find that I am far more confident in french and feel far more stimulated as opposed to frustrated.  Would this jump-start for my career be beneficial if it is not the career I truly wish to pursue? 

I am certain these words are not sitting well with those reading who know what the last four years have been like, and what they have prepared me for.  Could it be that I just like a challenge and that once the goal has been accomplished and the mysteries have been solved, that I become to easily disillusioned or bored? Probably.  Yes. But is this concept really so horrible? In my mind, I have a desire to know everything... not in the sense of all knowing and all power, but rather in the sense of having many curiosities and needing to satisfy them.  I want to be Leonardo DiVinci and Thomas Jefferson.  The saying "Jack of all trades, master of none" would perhaps apply, but then, in having an arsenal of competencies, I am not only more marketable, but more interesting, and can better communicate with those of whom I make acquaintances throughout my life.  A friend of mine once told me of his life goal, and it so struck me as profound, yet simple, that I decided to plagiarize and take if for my own. 

The challenge is this: By the end of one's life  (if not before) to be able to hold a 5 minute conversation on any topic with any person from any walk of life.  

And so my choice, while not at all clear or easy to make, bent towards France, and I accepted by position.  I came to the realization last year or so, that while I was artistically stimulated at the Theatre School, and thrived on this phase of artistic expression and honing of skills, I felt trapped by a lack of academic exploration.  I found my escape, my salvation in french.  It has become even more apparent now, here in Paris, with my brain throbbing from the culture shock, that I more driven, passionate, excited and excitable when I have intellectual topics to occupy my mind. 

 The dreams of the Impressionists sing to me are like Sirens--- their attempts to capture modernity resonate as timeless testaments to the idea of the fleeting. They go past simply recreating and recording an event,  but rather, embody the emotions of that moment--the energy that radiates and then is gone.  It is such an allegory for life as a whole.  I want to live in that moment and feel that same energy... record it using whatever talents within me that are just waiting for the perfect moment to show themselves.  I do not feel that I will find them by being static, stable, stationary.  No, it isn't necessarily the safest mindset, and believe me, I do not feel the need to squander away my savings to live like Balzac or Baudelaire or Oscar Wilde, but I do want to know that when I come to the end, I have filled every second of my life with something interesting. 

L'education: The grass isn't greener on the other side, its just a different type of grass

There exists in America, particularly among those academics in European foreign language departments, that education in Europe far exceeds that in America in excellence.  Of course, the term"excellence" is always subjective, but on the whole, it is said that European schools are more intense and promote independent thought through argument than schools in the US.  Competition is brutal and success hinges on a survival of the fittest approach to learning.  French students are expected to be the best, whereas American students are mostly encouraged to do their best.  I am speaking in general terms, obviously, with no intention to discredit those institutions or students in the US who do indeed strive  excessively to succeed in every aspect of their education--specifically friends of mine at the Theatre and Music Conservatories of Depaul who have spent the last 4 years killing themselves to be #1 in every class and to prove their worth to the artistic world.  To those people, I say this: live "Carpe Diem," but realize that while you may be exceptional and the exception in America,  you are not the exception in the eyes of the world and will thus be met with the full force of those who know nothing but extreme competition and success.  

Competition is crucial for more avidly pursuing knowledge, and thus with extremely comprehensive knowledge comes a ora of power or perhaps superiority.  I feel that this is how Europe is viewed in the eyes of many Americans--as a pretentious but all together intimidating force of knowledge and intellectual critique.  While not untrue,  it is important to note about the education system that while the grass may appear greener on the other side, it might just be because it is a different kind of grass, not necessarily better grass.   

I was shocked to learn that in France, where all is intellectual, debatable, and freely accessible (funded by the state), that students either sink or swim.  I suppose that this observation should not be so surprising, and it seems a little naive even as I type it, but I guess I just always thought that the french education system embodied all the good traits of US schools and was free--thus making it perfect in my mind.  Au contraire, the grass is simply an altogether different species.  It is really a bit of a trade off, and goes like this (university level):

US

privatized and expensive  

Many options for financial aid and scholarships

smaller classes 

more individual attention to each student

many/most students work to pay for school, many subsidized by parents

--distraction from school work

decisive majors later on, if not until graduate school (try many things so that you are certain of your life path and goals)

Practical experience is crucial and the best programs are judged on the resources in place to get students working in their fields before leaving school-- make connections

Through practicum, learning whether or not one likes the field of interest and what elements in particular one wants to pursue or not

Success after graduation: the view is classically american--the little train that could--anyone can succeed if they try hard enough (Land of Opportunity)

FRANCE

Funded by the state

Scholarships only awarded to the very poorest of poor (nothing for middle class students)

Large class size

Little to no individual attention to each student

most students DO NOT work while attending school and are subsidized by parents 

--no distraction from school work, unless the student's family is too poor to fully support them, in which case they must work, putting them below their comrades (less time to study)

decisive majors early on: choose a field, stay with it, and become an expert (there is no other choice)

Mostly, if not solely theoretical education and experience.  No connections other than professors and family/friend connections made during school

No practicum, so once entering the real world, one might realize they do not actually like the field they are in

Success after graduation: if you have been privileged enough to make it through a Grande Ecole, and not just a Université, you are among France's elite society---most minorities and students from immigrant families do not make it this far and remain at their same social niveau

All in all, for those that believe education MUST be free for all, the thought is a noble one rooted in good intentions, but FAITES ATTENTION! Not all that shimmers is gold and the grass is really just a different species.  Think hard before you criticize what is in place in America and realize that nothing is perfect.  The land of No Exceptions is no exception.