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.