So this is by far the crappiest reason I've had yet for not posting enough to Mandounette. It is rather difficult to type when your arms are bound to your sides, wrapped tighter than Jesus in his swaddling clothes by rolls and rolls of red tape, provided nearly free of charge by the French bureaucracy.

We used to joke about the administration at Cornell, calling it the Big Red Tape, but oh, how I long to go back to those days. The days when websites were updated more frequently than once every four years; the days when you waited in line for a reason, not just to be told to go wait in another line. I have a list that takes up 2 full pages in my planner with the names of people I need to talk to, the documents I need to photocopy, the places where I need to "present myself", and the questions I have that no matter how many times they are asked, are never answered.

I leave for New York tomorrow to get my visa. Hopefully that will go smoothly. And having my visa is the cake, whereas school and work are simply the icing. My concern is staying here. After that, I will worry about work and school.

But speaking of school, I started classes yesterday (without visa) and I understand a little bit better what I have gotten myself into. It's very interesting, a sort of combination of political science and communication, so I have classes in both communication theory and political science theory, as well as technical workshops in digitial design and publishing. Basically, I am preparing myself to become a cog in the huge bureaucracy that is really pissing me off. This could either be cruel irony, or my calling, to clean up the crumbling French bureaucracy one office at a time. I will be the Johnny Appleseed of French institutions spreading the seed of efficiency and the pesticide of laziness.

Or perhaps I will just sit back like the rest of them and benefit from my 5 weeks of vacation, militant labor unions, and universal health care.

So, I've been living with Stephane for nearly one year now and everything has been just peachy. Sure, we have minimal furniture and our "idea of eating out" has dwindled from "Cuisine de terroir" to the little Turkish joint on the corner in proportion to our shrinking bank accounts. Sure, from time to time we are forced to resolve our spats with wrestling matches. But all in all, there have been very few problems.

But yesterday, I came home from a long day at University to find Stephane asleep on the couch cuddled up next to a small, dark-haired girl, who was sitting on his chest and kissing his nose. Today, the same girl watched him the whole time he was showering. I am worried. She is making an effort to steal him away!

Yes, Chita definitely has a crush on Stephane.

So, I finally feel confident enough in my French to let myself read in English again. What a pleasure it is! I started with The Da Vinci Code as my light vacation reading in Turkey (it was definitely intriguing, if a bit of a guilt-pleasure.) Now I seem to see odes to Mary Magdalene and the eternal feminine every where as I hit the tourist sites in Paris with my parents.

I moved onto Donna Tartt's The Little Friend a few days ago and it too is very, very engrossing. I went to hear her do a reading in New York City for the launch a couple of years ago and am finally getting around to reading it. Has anyone out there read it? Would love to have a "discussion" about it when I am finished. It'll be just like old times with the Park Slope-style book club. I'll bring the wine.

Stephane and I will be welcoming the little bugger into our home and lives permanently tonight. I gotta go and get her litter box and food ready!

It is Ani DiFranco's birthday. A woman who formed my adolescence and still haunts my brain from time to time.

Has anyone got the new album, Educated Guess? I have already added it to my Christmas list, along with Evolve, that last one. I feel like such a terrible fan. Somewhere after Up, Up, Up, Up, Up, Up I stopped being so clued in to what was going on with her. But she will always hold a special place in my heart. And hey! I remembered her birthday. That's good!

So, I didn't write anything about the tribulations I have been going through for the past week concerning my future in France because my normal response to stressful situations is to try to block them out of my mind (all the time cursing the waves of nausea that invade my body during times of anxiety) and writing about them just isn't very appealing. Plus, I am ashamed. The healthy dose of pride that constantly inhabits my soul never wants to admit that I am perhaps not as smart as I think I am. But in any case, I have weathered the storm and am ready to spill the details on Mandounette.

At the end of my week in Turkey, I received an e-mail from the university where I was hoping to pursue my master's in communication, saying that I needed certified translations of all of my documents (my home-made translations not being sufficient). In a panic, I found a translator as soon as I set foot on French soil and then tried, in vain, to get more information from the university. Well, it turns out that by the time I got back to France, my application had already been rejected, although I was never informed (despite numerous e-mails, phone calls and office visits); so the 100 euro translations (not any different than my own except for an official looking stamp) were totally useless. I found out in a very rudely worded e-mail that my application had been rejected on Monday and I spent the next 2 days depressed, feeling stupid and unworthy. How many obnoxious, rich girls have I met here who have had no problems getting their visas and enrolling in bourgeois disciplines like history and literature, while I don't even merit an e-mail response or the presence of the secretary at pre-arranged meetings. In any case, ego-wounded by the spirit-destroying machine that is French bureaucracy, I sucked it up and sent in all of my acceptance materials to the other program I applied for, to which I was accepted. It is not at a research level and is a bit like repeating my last year of American university, and I am not looking forward to a year spent reviewing communication theory with a bunch of 20 year-olds with no life experience. But, I kept repeating the Futurama motto to myself: "you gotta do what you gotta do."

I went to the orientation meeting at the university today and was welcomed with open arms by an office and team of professors who are excited to have an American in the program to help open up discussions on international politics, offer assistance to the doctoral candidates in translating their theses (possibly a little bit of a scholarship that goes with this...), and give the office workers an excuse to use their English. I was lost (the bureaucracy is still rampant) but instead of letting me fend for myself, the head of the department actually led me through all of the steps and got me all of the papers I need for my visa in a matter of minutes.

The warm-fuzziness of the department made me want to cry after the inhumane treatment I have been receiving from the other university. Not to mention as part of the orientation we were led into the department's private computer lab, which is equipped with about 30 brand-new iMac G5s with every multimedia design program you can imagine! They update their computer lab every year! The students are all very cool and the university campus is much less sketchy than the one I was rejected from. So, it seems everything is back on track again. My diploma from this program may not serve for much, but it will be a fascinating experience to learn the ins and outs of French political communication. PLUS, I am required to take a "gym class" which means free yoga for the year and I hope to sing in the chorus, which travels and has concerts throughout the year with the orchestra.

I am pretty excited. Classes start on Monday and I will let you all know how they are!

I just made 30 euros drinking tea, eating cake and talking to a very interesting woman. I also met her husband who is the French translator of Harry Potter. Let's see if I can weasle some info about Book 6 out of him. But in honor of my first 30 euros made in France (I plan on turning it into a fortune, like in all of the American dream stories in the movies), here is a list of synonyms for money, thanks to Roget's II:

capital, finances, funds, cash, currency, lucre, wampum, bread, cabbage, dough, gelt, green, jack, lettuce, long green, mazuma, moola, scratch, brass, bucks, peanuts

After a day in sight-seeing hell, ("Mandy, look it's Chartres! It's so beautiful"-said as we passed Notre Dame today on our boat tour of the Seine; "Oh, look! It's a bureau de change. I read about them in my book." "Is that dome over there the Parthenon?" "That is soooo funny! It was the Herbal Essence commercial only in French!" "So who was it that built the Eiffel Tower?" "It looks just like Las Vegas Paris!") I am zoning on the couch, trying to block out the discussion based on a deck of cards featuring famous Parisian sites, watching the Euro Top 20 on MTV and suddenly I decided that I would really like to meet Britney Spears and ask her what her life has been life? What was it like to be a sex symbol at 14, how did she handle that? When did she really lose her virginity? Was it to Justin Timberlake or some sketchy record producer or just some Louisiana boy? What are her parents like? Is she happy? Does she take drugs?

Thinking about Britney Spears as a person. Yet another symptom of parent overload.

My parents arrive tomorrow. Their first trip to Europe. Their first trip requiring a passport. People who are afraid to eat hummus because it is too exotic. Hopefully I will come out alive.

Reason #432528 why Paris is the best movie city in the world.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/3639684.stm

Mandounette's off to bring in the New Year with apples, honey, and a bottomless glass of vodka.

http://www.natlitrmus.com/

I think this will have to be a stop on my cross country trip. It's in Guthrie, Oklahoma.

Sad news sent from new music evangelist and old bar connoisseur Frank J. Oteri about the apparent closure of a bar important to the history of both New York City and Mandounette. It was here that I had my first underage single-malt scotch and it was one of the last bars I visited on my last trip to NYC in June 2004. Strangely, they claimed they were "replenishing their Scotch menu" and didn't have much in stock, so I settled for a Bass. Truly a sad day.

Here's Frank's message:

This is extremely depressing and I’m still trying to ferret out the details, but it seems like the Landmark Tavern at 626 11th Avenue, arguably the greatest of all old NY Bars, in continuous operation since 1868, has gone out of business.

Their phone number—(212) 757-8595—has been disconnected and when I called Verizon Info to find out more, the operator (a confused man who seemed familiar with the bar and who said that he had given out the number numerous times in the past) said there was no listing for a Landmark Tavern in Manhattan on his computer. Just like that. No further information. Welcome to the digital 21st Century where information disappears without a trace. (I shudder again at the thought of Diebold voting machines…)

Molly found a link to a blog that shows a photo of the Landmark Tavern from the week of Aug 17 with an iron grate closed over it and the words Gone for Vacation written on it… http://whatisee.org/mt/archives/entries/000287.html

Such is the fate of one of my favorite spaces of all time, the place that was the final destination of countless historic pub crawls over the years and played host to a remarkable historic recreation party that I helped coordinate marking the 65th anniversary of the Repeal of Prohibition (December 5, 1933) on December 5, 1998 (in which all attendees came in period costume personifying people who could have been there that night). It was even the site of the first ever in person get together of the participants in ArtsJournal.com’s AJ Blogs this past year.

To paraphrase the words of Ira Gershwin written to the last ever song written by George Gershwin (whom I personified that evening) a mere 4 yrs after that fateful evening when Prohibition was repealed…

“In times the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may crumble, they’re only made of clay.”

We all have suffered loss in our lives and will continue to do so but today is a very sad day, made sadder by the fact that the Landmark Tavern undoubtedly closed before today and its passing was more than likely not deemed newsworthy enough by the folks who control the information we get to receive.

The last time I was there was June 18th and on that evening the single malt scotch collection was remarkably depleted. When I asked the staff what was going on they told me, “Don’t worry. We’re replenishing the stock.”

Indeed

:(

If anyone knows anything else about this, please share…

I love this city!



Row 1: (i) View of Asia from our room (ii) The island house
Row 2: (i) Entry into the Black Sea (ii) Ste and Uraz on the boat
Row 3: (i) Mehdi and Uraz being all bad ass (ii) Beautiful women: Belma and Oya
Row 4: (i) A hole (ii)Stephane and Haiko, the Armenian radio star

Ste and I bought a crapload of knock-off movies at a mall in Istanbul (apparently the authorities are looking the other way on this one...and can you blame 'em? Not like any Turkish people are making money off legit DVD sales...). So, our evenings on the island were spent shmokin' and watching lots of movies. Lots of crappy movies. However, there was one that wasn't totally imbecilic: The Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind.

Charlie Kaufman is a genius and Jim Carrey wasn't annoying at all. I love Kaufman's films because for the first hour you are totally lost and it is so incredibly satisfying once you begin to figure out what is going on. He is brilliant. Screw John Malkovich, I want to crawl around inside of Kaufman's head for a while!

Has anyone seen Human Nature? It's the only one of his films I have yet to see. Damn I wish there was NetFlix in France!

Did anybody else see this movie? I thought it was pretty fun.

But I must say that I am quite disturbed by the pattern of hurricanes in the Caribbean this year. It's a bit to similar to the first symptoms of the earth's destruction in the movie. A hint to all you New Yorkers. Get thee to the New York Public Library! I'll huddle myself into the Chateau de Versailles.

Stephane and I arrived back in Paris yesterday morning after 9 wonderful days in Istanbul. A short vacation according to French standards, but a much-needed one for both of us.

Yes, I know it may seem that I have been on vacation pretty much for the past year, and in many ways that is true. However, after one year (11 months for you sticklers), poetic meandering and wide-eyed enthusiasm are giving away to routines, obligations, and frustrations. The same things that plagued me in Rochester, in Ithaca, and in New York City. My year of discovery has been a success and I am now on my way to becoming one kickass English-teaching, dissertation writing, trying-to-stay-afloat American expat.

Having a direction feels fantastic, but I have to say that I am a little disappointed. Even with the decisions made, the contracts signed, the preparations for my visa and studies in progress, I still feel like I am drowning in uncertainty. There have been problems with my university application, which has been passed between 3 different administrative staff members, its future still uncertain. No acceptance letter, no visa! I can't work until I have my visa and I know that the French Consulate can reject me for any reason without telling me why. My parents are coming to visit on Friday and ideas for 10 magical days in Paris are bouncing around in my head, including cleaning my house, finding a DaVinci Code tour that doesn't cost a fortune, figuring out handicapped transportation, thinking of restaurants that won't terrify the sheltered palates of two Western New York natives. All of this is slowly eating away at my sleep and my stomach lining.

I guess I still have a lot of work to do on reducing my anxiety. Such is the plight of a recovering perfectionist and overachiever. When I was in Istanbul, my worries were easily obscured by endless quantities of eggplant, sour cherry juice, nargileh smoke, tea, and raki. But now, back in rainy Paris, as my body detoxes, the fog is lifting. Strangely as my vision becomes clearer, my future seems foggier.

Last night, around 9 PM, Ste and I found ourselves face-to-face with Chita--alone with her for the first time. She spent most of the night eyeing us from corners and exploring the space that will soon be hers. She has found her security blanket: a black sleeping bag that has been folded over so she can climb in the middle, her head peaking out one side, her tail out the other. She's like a little Chita burrito. Of course she didn't sleep much all night. She was too busy exploring (she looked very film noir posing in the moonlight when I got up to go to the bathroom). She slept for a few hours in our bedroom in the Chita burrito but then, at 7, decided it was time to eat, so she started to play with my feet and then jumped in my face. After a few more hours of sleep, I woke up and played with her a little bit. Then she started to play the following game. She still doesn't want me to touch her, but she has started surveying my every move...in the toilet, while I'm taking a shower, while I ate breakfast. Finally, exhausted, sitting by me on the bed while I put my socks on, she passed out. She has been out for a good 2 hours now and I expect she may pass the whole day that way.

Well, those that have been following the trials and tribulations of Mandounette in France know that she had a rude awakening a few weeks ago when she realized that her savings had finally run dry. But today (or more precisely on October 4th) it all changes. She has just been offered a real live job, with a long-term contract and benefits! Finally she will be covered by the wonderful French social security system. Her lunches and metrocard will be paid for! She is a real grown-up now!

She will be teaching English to executives at Renault, one of the major French car companies, and managing full day workshops on giving presentations, running meetings, and "socializing" (i.e. get them drunk and singing karaoke.) My office is just off the Champs Elysees, which makes me feel very important. It is right next to the Hustler Club. Ha! Only problem is that I have to look "professional" and after 4 years in university, 2 and 1/2 years working for a non-profit arts organization, and a year bumming around Paris using every penny I have to by bread, toilet bowl cleaner and other essentials, I have absolutely nothing to wear. Guess I will have to go on a buying spree in Istanbul next week, with the help of my new credit card!

Wow, I just realized that I have gone from the third to the first person and that is just terrible. So I will end this post now. Chita (the cat) will be arriving soon to test out our apartment and garden. But one final word: yay!