So you would think that our little run-in with the municipal law would have downed our gaiety. Ha, we walked off the bus cracking up in laughter, falling over ourselves as we replayed the scene over and over again, laughing louder and louder each time. The magic of Paris had got to our heads.
We got home safely and kept on chatting forever, so long into the night that we did not sleep till the next day. Such was our agenda for most of my stay actually, we would leisurely wake up mid-afternoon, make something to eat, and then hit the streets, shopping, sightseeing, eating, people-watching and enjoying the lights. We did all the main sites of course: l’Arc de triomphe, Champs Elysees, le Tour Eiffel etc. And then we did the streets markets and those were fun.
One time we hit up Barbès – Rochechouart, Chateau Rouge and I think it was Porte de Clignancourt (quartiers in Paris with a lot of immigrants). These places are what the French man in his thick accent will call ‘Ptitafrik on Fronce’ i.e Petite Afrique en France. No jokes, take away the cold and I could have sworn to be in a colonial part (cos of the Architecture) of some African city. There were all these shops selling plantain, dark and lovely, African cloth, wigs, strange vegetables and even that black thread that is used for the traditional hair styles (tentacles, lol). There were Africans everywhere and… are you ready for this: there was HAWKING on the streets like real African-style hawking, standing by the streets and calling out to sell: BOILED and ROASTED CORN! Ai my African peeps, “you can take the African out of Africa, but never Africa out of the African.” So this one street had a long line of African women standing on the streets bundled up in many layers of clothing, offering their wares: boiled corn from a large plastic bag in their shopping trolley and corn roasted on a can of live coals that sat in a shopping cart by their sides. And there were some others who were out selling clothing and what not, calling out to you as you passed. But sha seeing that boiled corn was funnnyy, took me straight home! Hawking boiled corn from a shopping cart on the streets? Not even in the Bronx I haven’t seen that and we know a lot of ish happens there!
And we also saw a little bit of the Parisian nightlife courtesy of a young Mauritanian from Dayva’s school who wanted to practice his English. He asked to take Dayva out to converse and since I was there it became a threesome. We, D. and I, thought the meet up was gonna be like a casual conversation lesson you know, so we took our sweet time getting there: dragged ourselves out of bed, made something to eat, listened to some music, tried on some new clothes and then strolled over about an hour late (ouch). We got to the designated spot and whooooaaa BROTHER was all spangled up, blinging, ready for a date, dang! And not just any date too, judging from the hints he kept dropping about dancing all night, dude had some serious plans. This was NOT what we had been expecting and us double left feeties, Dayva and I, were not about to oblige a perfect stranger to a night of sweaty dancing and awkward groping in the dark, no. He asked us several times what we wanted to do and we just la-la-ed on ‘ah anything is fine.’ So he stuck to his initial plan and took us to Bastille, prime Parisian clubbing spot.
We being 'Janey-juste-arrive' a Paris, brother took it upon himself to show us around, donning a maestro of Paris persona as we walked about. He would saunter to the door of some clubs, pretend like he was talking to the bouncers and then come back and say : ‘ ahh zuttt too many people in that club,’ or ‘ah bon, my boys aren’t around.’ That was funny, he went to like several places to do the same thing and after a while we couldn’t keep the laughter in, but we also couldn’t laugh in his face so we would point to like a building and in twi pretend to be talking about it and then CRACK UP! Lol, so funny, and guess what. … the dude would laugh with us, and heartily too, haha it was so hilarious, I hadn’t laughed that well in a while. After the clubs, he started peeping into restaurants too, looking to find his peeps, lolll, of course they weren’t there. Finally, we found a café and got some drinks and had a nice time talking. Having disabused him of his ‘all night out’ idea we walked around some more after the drinks and then we went home. Nice evening, certainly amusing.
Another night, another young gentleman, a Guinean med student called up his engineer friend and they took us to the movies. It was a very nice night out, we watched Vicky Christina Barcelona, crazy movie. And the brothers were very decent, made okay conversation, paid for the night and then saw us safely home. Very nice! This guy, the doc, he lived on Dayva’s floor in her residence universitaire.
Now speaking of Dayva’s hall, there’s a good story.
Dayva had only just moved into her ‘residons,’ when I arrived, and she didn’t know anyone so we resolved to profit from my being there to meet people. To do this, we really put ourselves out: spoke loud English on our cells in the hallway (young French people love English speakers), opened our door when cooking to let the scents waft, spoke loudly in our room etc etc. Our ploy worked! In no time people definitely knew we were around and this is how we met the med student dude from the date and then some creepy dude across our room who looked way too old to be a student and who would wink whenever he saw Dayva and say, ”SALUT le Princesss!” Pretty disturbing.
Anyway, one day we were in the room looking at pictures. Seeing an especially funny one of me, Dayva burst out laughing, and she can laugh, a rollicking laughter that carries itself many miles. She cracked up and cracked up that some guys hanging out in our hallway, smoking more than cigarettes, started laughing too. They would laugh, run around, knock on our door and laugh some more. After a while Dayva went to see them at the door and putting on a clean British accent, blew them away by telling them she was from London, they were like whoaaaaa and got pretty excited jumping around, talking all at once and making a whole lot of noise. They chatted for a bit and Dayva came back to the room.
Not ten minutes after, there was another knock on the door. Sigh, ‘we asked for it and we’re really getting it’ we thought and this time I went and got the door. And lo, before me stood a quaking young man! He was like shaking, I’m not even joking. I was so surprised. And then even more surprising, he stretched out his quivering hands and handed me a big box, “cadeau, pour vous/ present for you” and then he walked off and I could hear his friends laughing in the back ground, they peeked out of one of their rooms and said, “ ahh don’t worry he’s shy!” Very strange! We open the box and it’s a huge flower vase, what the heck?!! Anyway we were gracious and Dayva went and thanked them. Now 3 minutes later, another knock, another guy, this time he had a glass in hand. “Cadeau pour vous,” he said. I asked him why a present, we didn’t need a glass? He replied before running of, ‘ah but you can use it to brush you teeth!
Whoaaaa!!! Was that a cryptic message, brother trying to tell us something??? Regardless, we brushed up extra hard that night!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Parisian misdemeanors
So right in the middle of the French fall academic calendar is the Toussaint (All saints) vacation, a two-week break to celebrate saints or something equally vague, not really sure. Anyway, I was living life and this vacation was coming up and my friends were making ELABORATE preparations. There were plans to hit up Rome, Brussels, Venice, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Madrid, and even freaking Marrakech, Morocco!!!! (Travel here can be ridiculously cheap). But me, sister from Ghana whose passport can’t get her anywhere without a visa, I didn’t have anything fancy planned, I was just gonna go to Paris. Everyone else was excited and it was all that was talked about. In conversation I was often asked:
“Soooo whachu doing for Toussaint, Debbie?”
I would smile brightly and with equal vigor reply, ‘I’m going to Pareeee!”
Tone would drop. “Ohh but we’ve all already been to Paris together?”
Got any other bright ideas for me homie I wouId think, but reply, “Yeah but you know, I LOVEDDDD Paris.”
Person would continue: “So you’re like… gonna be there… for like… the whole 10 daays,” would cock an eyebrow, “wow, you must really love Paris then?”
I would flash a sunny smile.
And so and so forth this conversation, day after day after the day till the day of the vacation when I left for Paris to spend 10 days, ten glorious days living it up in gay Paree. I stayed with one of my best friends from high school Dayva, she’s studying in Paris for a year.
So I got to Paris in two hours, super fast on the TGV (train de grand vitesse aka very very fast train) and Dayva met me at the Gare de l’est de Paris. It was such a joyful and noisy reunion; we hadn’t seen each other in two years. We were EXCITED: “OMG I love the hair... ouuu you’re lookin’ good… wow your cheeks grew fat… mehnn your butt hasn’t shrunk….etc etc.” We were free, we were young and we were in Paree! It was rather late when I got in, some time after 9pm. That night the city felt magical… like something was gonna happen: the stars were extra bright, the moon was super blue, everything was bathed in light and the time just flew. We didn’t stay out for long before moving on home.
Our first adventure was that night…
So apparently in Paris paying for transportation is NOT a big deal, you can do it, you cannot, nobody really cares and they hardly check, only once in a blue moon. As Dayva explained this lax control system for transportation, I was excited, hehehe I was gonna save mucho on transportation, why pay when I didn’t have to, the city is tooo darn expensive as it is!!
So here’s how it works: on the metro you back up against someone and enter the till as they do, it can be a perfect stranger it doesn’t even matter. You just ask them and you follow them in. Then you say thank you and go off your way. For the bus, you just walk on bonjourrrrr the driver and sit. No probs, no questions asked. There’s no problem unless the moon is blue and the controllers come around to check.
Dayva had a ticket on her, it was a one day ticket with which she had been moving all day. She told me she didn’t think I needed to get a ticket since it was late, we were going straight home and really, nobody cared. The moon was blue in Paris. I happily obliged, thinking hehehe girl you don’t need to tell me twice. I was so cool as I stole into the metro, smoother than a pro, same with the bus. Dayva and I chatted the whole way, nosily and non-stop, in English, twi, pidgin, French, gossiping about everything and everyone, you know us girls.
Then… just 2 more minutes to the end of our ride, one more stop and we would have been home, some tough looking lady and guys get on the bus. I only spared them a seconds glance before carrying on with my animated conversation loudly and excitedly, hands in the air, gesturing all over. When suddenly the atmosphere in the bus changed and there was some commotion behind me. I turned to see what was up and yes I did see what was UP, what was up the nose of the dude standing right behind me bellowing and landing a thousand germs on my face: “EXCUSEZ-MOI, ticket!”
Shoot, ahhhh I was so confused, what to do what to do what to do, brother looked mean, mess mess mess ahhhhhhhhh! I looked around me, shaking my head left and right as I thought quickly. The blue moon was still shining brightly outside. Ah then I suddenly remembered that I had some old used tickets from my last Paris trip. “Oui teekay,” I said nervously to the mean man, “right,” and I dug into my overnight bag, foraging through my unmentionables, looking for those darned tickets. “Ahhh teekay eh, un moment,” I said again looking up at the man who was now puffing smoke from his nose, not appreciating my stalling.
At this point the bus was at our stop, waiting for me to get off because Dayva had one feet out on the ground for me and nobody was amused by my antics, not the ticket holders, not even my fellow culprit non-ticket holders! Finally I found the old, soiled, tattered ticket, whipped it out with a smile, and the man barely looked at it before pulling his ticket book, “alors Madame tu paies 40 Euros! ” Aiiiiii Master, I thought. But more seriously what is it about Paris and draining me of cash?(ref to penniless in paree). Anyway I didn’t pay that night, made a million excuses and took the ticket. I got mail last week and guess what? Ticket’s risen to 60 euros, Ssweet!!! That was night one in Paris.
So much more…to be continued very soon. Will try and be shorter though cos I know y’all don’t have too much time.
“Soooo whachu doing for Toussaint, Debbie?”
I would smile brightly and with equal vigor reply, ‘I’m going to Pareeee!”
Tone would drop. “Ohh but we’ve all already been to Paris together?”
Got any other bright ideas for me homie I wouId think, but reply, “Yeah but you know, I LOVEDDDD Paris.”
Person would continue: “So you’re like… gonna be there… for like… the whole 10 daays,” would cock an eyebrow, “wow, you must really love Paris then?”
I would flash a sunny smile.
And so and so forth this conversation, day after day after the day till the day of the vacation when I left for Paris to spend 10 days, ten glorious days living it up in gay Paree. I stayed with one of my best friends from high school Dayva, she’s studying in Paris for a year.
So I got to Paris in two hours, super fast on the TGV (train de grand vitesse aka very very fast train) and Dayva met me at the Gare de l’est de Paris. It was such a joyful and noisy reunion; we hadn’t seen each other in two years. We were EXCITED: “OMG I love the hair... ouuu you’re lookin’ good… wow your cheeks grew fat… mehnn your butt hasn’t shrunk….etc etc.” We were free, we were young and we were in Paree! It was rather late when I got in, some time after 9pm. That night the city felt magical… like something was gonna happen: the stars were extra bright, the moon was super blue, everything was bathed in light and the time just flew. We didn’t stay out for long before moving on home.
Our first adventure was that night…
So apparently in Paris paying for transportation is NOT a big deal, you can do it, you cannot, nobody really cares and they hardly check, only once in a blue moon. As Dayva explained this lax control system for transportation, I was excited, hehehe I was gonna save mucho on transportation, why pay when I didn’t have to, the city is tooo darn expensive as it is!!
So here’s how it works: on the metro you back up against someone and enter the till as they do, it can be a perfect stranger it doesn’t even matter. You just ask them and you follow them in. Then you say thank you and go off your way. For the bus, you just walk on bonjourrrrr the driver and sit. No probs, no questions asked. There’s no problem unless the moon is blue and the controllers come around to check.
Dayva had a ticket on her, it was a one day ticket with which she had been moving all day. She told me she didn’t think I needed to get a ticket since it was late, we were going straight home and really, nobody cared. The moon was blue in Paris. I happily obliged, thinking hehehe girl you don’t need to tell me twice. I was so cool as I stole into the metro, smoother than a pro, same with the bus. Dayva and I chatted the whole way, nosily and non-stop, in English, twi, pidgin, French, gossiping about everything and everyone, you know us girls.
Then… just 2 more minutes to the end of our ride, one more stop and we would have been home, some tough looking lady and guys get on the bus. I only spared them a seconds glance before carrying on with my animated conversation loudly and excitedly, hands in the air, gesturing all over. When suddenly the atmosphere in the bus changed and there was some commotion behind me. I turned to see what was up and yes I did see what was UP, what was up the nose of the dude standing right behind me bellowing and landing a thousand germs on my face: “EXCUSEZ-MOI, ticket!”
Shoot, ahhhh I was so confused, what to do what to do what to do, brother looked mean, mess mess mess ahhhhhhhhh! I looked around me, shaking my head left and right as I thought quickly. The blue moon was still shining brightly outside. Ah then I suddenly remembered that I had some old used tickets from my last Paris trip. “Oui teekay,” I said nervously to the mean man, “right,” and I dug into my overnight bag, foraging through my unmentionables, looking for those darned tickets. “Ahhh teekay eh, un moment,” I said again looking up at the man who was now puffing smoke from his nose, not appreciating my stalling.
At this point the bus was at our stop, waiting for me to get off because Dayva had one feet out on the ground for me and nobody was amused by my antics, not the ticket holders, not even my fellow culprit non-ticket holders! Finally I found the old, soiled, tattered ticket, whipped it out with a smile, and the man barely looked at it before pulling his ticket book, “alors Madame tu paies 40 Euros! ” Aiiiiii Master, I thought. But more seriously what is it about Paris and draining me of cash?(ref to penniless in paree). Anyway I didn’t pay that night, made a million excuses and took the ticket. I got mail last week and guess what? Ticket’s risen to 60 euros, Ssweet!!! That was night one in Paris.
So much more…to be continued very soon. Will try and be shorter though cos I know y’all don’t have too much time.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Exchange student who stole jam
I’ve been here for more than two months now and so more and more I’m soaking up French culture and becoming more susceptible to its nuances. Like now, I’ll never enter a shop without a big cheery “Bonjour!!!!” because it’s French culture. They will not smile at you on the streets or even acknowledge your presence in the tram, ohh but you enter a patisserie or epicerie or even an apparel shop and you will get a smiley cheery Bonjourrrrr.
Oh and the cheek kiss…hehehe…has its perks. Meet a hot brother in the hallway and you just go, ‘o Allo, Olivier,’ mwah mwah, and the smell of his cologne doesn’t leave you till 30 minutes afterwards. Yep, perks perks. But it took a while for me to get used to it, this whole kissing on sight business. At first it flustered me a little bit and I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands for example. As in, was the polite way holding on to the shoulder? Was I to put my hands behind me, up in the air, I didn’t know. One day, I think I gripped my host father’s waist while greeting him, because he gave me SUCH a nervous look afterwards, oops!
And oohhhh these people in these parts know how to get their fashion ON. They live in a fashion autocracy in which Prada swaddled Beelzebubs sit in sky-high offices and determine the daily fashion actions of the beings beneath their windows. Dare you (who wishes to be considered fashionable) go against what is ‘a la mode’, like wear green when it is not in… you suffocate in your own gaffe and when you behold the grey and purple garbed hot french girls, it is you yourself who silently puts aside the green and walks into a shop for a color a la mode. The colors of the season are dark purple, off beige, black, dark gray, and deep yellow and these are pretty much the ONLY colors you will find in the shops.
The fashion fluctuates easily though. Earlier on in the fall for the ladies, it was all about the belts, you had to cinch that waist! And the brothers were rocking the well fitting jean and stylish sweater. Now in the winter, the ladies are sporting the baby doll a-shaped coat and for the guys scarves are the necessary finishing touch. And Euro-afro fashionly, you know that hair is important. The look for elle, is half braids, water curled with brown/chestnut streaks, the streaks being the must of the season. And for some of my African brothers, the perm of the 80’s is back!! And ahhh they are so on top of it too o, no undergrowth, its all freshly touched up and pulled back in a sleek ponytail or shaped up in a professional perm cut, haha. But to be fair, that’s mostly the do of confused youth born and bred here in France. African brothers proper proper, are sporting a one to two-inch afro, mussed up and left wild. A good number are also sticking to the down-cut clean-shaven look. And I have noticed all of this because people watching is my new pastime on my 30 minutes ride to school and 30 minutes back, all during rush hour.
And also here in Stras it’s all about the bread. Morning, afternoon, evening: bread, bread, bread. But… there is bread and there is bread. Once we read an article in class about how good baguette is rare and since then I have been on a maniac quest for the perfect baguette. It has to be crusty but not hard. Its inside should be fluffy but not light. It shouldn’t be too salty. It should chew just right in your mouth… you know, crunch, crunch… a couple more crunches… swallow, going down your throat smoothly, no scratching, no chafing. Yes, that’s good baguette. My host mom once asked me if there were bakeries all over in America where she could get her daily baguette. I said no and she replied miserably that ‘alors, I will be very sad when I visit America.’ So you see, bread equals joy in these parts, so value it and the next time you bite a piece, celebrate, be happy, smile and say cheese!!
Anyway, I have come to REALLY to love my bread and one more than one occasion I’ve gone almost 30 minutes out of my way for good baguette. But one day however, this love of bread lead my into sin…
I had had an awful morning. I woke up at 7 am so I could be in class by 8.30. And I barely made it through my four-hour language class because I had such wretched cramps. By the time class was over I was on something else. I felt miserable, I wanted to sleep and I was craving some good bread for my sick sick stomach. So I quickly consulted my mental maps of good bakeries, picked out the closest best, hopped on the tram and got myself a stick of scrumptious oven fresh bread. Ooooo it was so good!!! I couldn’t help myself, I stuffed my face hungrily on the tram oblivious to the many weird stares. And then suddenly it struck me… how great the warm bread would taste slathered in my host mums AMAZING homemade apple jam oouuu. And as soon as I got that idea into my head, I just HAD to have some so I continued on the tram home, and planned what the best way to procure the jam would be as I knew the kitchen at home would be locked. Suddenly I remembered that my host mum stored the bulk of the jam in the pantry downstairs and so like a woman with a mission I sprinted determinedly home. You should have seen me go haha, I was better than a professional athlete in an obstacle race as I hopped over those slow-walking pram-pushing mothers.
I got home, struggled with my key at the door, flung it open and made a beeline for that pantry door. I laid my greedy grubby fingers on the bottle, savored the feel of it in my hand for a moment and then picked it up. I galloped up the stairs to my room, my hair flying in all directions: I felt like Black Beauty in the wild, the wind in my mane. Then I got into my room. I plopped on the floor and took that first bite. Ooooooo glorious I cannot even describe it, my taste buds were sent on different heights of pleasure. Amazing amazing, that bread, the jam…then… then I realized that I was..I was..I was like a common thief! I had just stolen a whole bottle of jam, (because my family does not provide lunch and I had not asked permission) and that meant I had to confess.
Before dinner I guiltily returned the bottle to the pantry, and went into the dining room for confession blabbering in a stream of incoherent French my tale of how my hunger had led me into sin. My stepmother responded that it was not a big deal and then she walked out of the room. I was so confused, was she angry? Then she returned form the pantry with the jam I had stolen and handed it to me. She said I might as well have the whole bottle…ohhw, talk about heaping coals on my head. I was soooo ashamed. And I couldn't help thinking about how I would probably become a family legend, a tale told at Christmas of that exchange student who was a jam thief! It was with a heavy hand that I carried that jam out to my room, I felt like Eve walking out of Eden apple in hand, shoot!! Since then though, I have enjoyed that bottle of jam with some good bread, couldn't let it go to waste you know!!
The past couple of weeks have been sooo much fun though OMG, will tell you all about it soon. I was in Paris for 10 days and I had the time of my life living it up in Gay Paree. Sooooo many stories….will update soon.
And can't forget…..Obaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaama!!
Oh and the cheek kiss…hehehe…has its perks. Meet a hot brother in the hallway and you just go, ‘o Allo, Olivier,’ mwah mwah, and the smell of his cologne doesn’t leave you till 30 minutes afterwards. Yep, perks perks. But it took a while for me to get used to it, this whole kissing on sight business. At first it flustered me a little bit and I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands for example. As in, was the polite way holding on to the shoulder? Was I to put my hands behind me, up in the air, I didn’t know. One day, I think I gripped my host father’s waist while greeting him, because he gave me SUCH a nervous look afterwards, oops!
And oohhhh these people in these parts know how to get their fashion ON. They live in a fashion autocracy in which Prada swaddled Beelzebubs sit in sky-high offices and determine the daily fashion actions of the beings beneath their windows. Dare you (who wishes to be considered fashionable) go against what is ‘a la mode’, like wear green when it is not in… you suffocate in your own gaffe and when you behold the grey and purple garbed hot french girls, it is you yourself who silently puts aside the green and walks into a shop for a color a la mode. The colors of the season are dark purple, off beige, black, dark gray, and deep yellow and these are pretty much the ONLY colors you will find in the shops.
The fashion fluctuates easily though. Earlier on in the fall for the ladies, it was all about the belts, you had to cinch that waist! And the brothers were rocking the well fitting jean and stylish sweater. Now in the winter, the ladies are sporting the baby doll a-shaped coat and for the guys scarves are the necessary finishing touch. And Euro-afro fashionly, you know that hair is important. The look for elle, is half braids, water curled with brown/chestnut streaks, the streaks being the must of the season. And for some of my African brothers, the perm of the 80’s is back!! And ahhh they are so on top of it too o, no undergrowth, its all freshly touched up and pulled back in a sleek ponytail or shaped up in a professional perm cut, haha. But to be fair, that’s mostly the do of confused youth born and bred here in France. African brothers proper proper, are sporting a one to two-inch afro, mussed up and left wild. A good number are also sticking to the down-cut clean-shaven look. And I have noticed all of this because people watching is my new pastime on my 30 minutes ride to school and 30 minutes back, all during rush hour.
And also here in Stras it’s all about the bread. Morning, afternoon, evening: bread, bread, bread. But… there is bread and there is bread. Once we read an article in class about how good baguette is rare and since then I have been on a maniac quest for the perfect baguette. It has to be crusty but not hard. Its inside should be fluffy but not light. It shouldn’t be too salty. It should chew just right in your mouth… you know, crunch, crunch… a couple more crunches… swallow, going down your throat smoothly, no scratching, no chafing. Yes, that’s good baguette. My host mom once asked me if there were bakeries all over in America where she could get her daily baguette. I said no and she replied miserably that ‘alors, I will be very sad when I visit America.’ So you see, bread equals joy in these parts, so value it and the next time you bite a piece, celebrate, be happy, smile and say cheese!!
Anyway, I have come to REALLY to love my bread and one more than one occasion I’ve gone almost 30 minutes out of my way for good baguette. But one day however, this love of bread lead my into sin…
I had had an awful morning. I woke up at 7 am so I could be in class by 8.30. And I barely made it through my four-hour language class because I had such wretched cramps. By the time class was over I was on something else. I felt miserable, I wanted to sleep and I was craving some good bread for my sick sick stomach. So I quickly consulted my mental maps of good bakeries, picked out the closest best, hopped on the tram and got myself a stick of scrumptious oven fresh bread. Ooooo it was so good!!! I couldn’t help myself, I stuffed my face hungrily on the tram oblivious to the many weird stares. And then suddenly it struck me… how great the warm bread would taste slathered in my host mums AMAZING homemade apple jam oouuu. And as soon as I got that idea into my head, I just HAD to have some so I continued on the tram home, and planned what the best way to procure the jam would be as I knew the kitchen at home would be locked. Suddenly I remembered that my host mum stored the bulk of the jam in the pantry downstairs and so like a woman with a mission I sprinted determinedly home. You should have seen me go haha, I was better than a professional athlete in an obstacle race as I hopped over those slow-walking pram-pushing mothers.
I got home, struggled with my key at the door, flung it open and made a beeline for that pantry door. I laid my greedy grubby fingers on the bottle, savored the feel of it in my hand for a moment and then picked it up. I galloped up the stairs to my room, my hair flying in all directions: I felt like Black Beauty in the wild, the wind in my mane. Then I got into my room. I plopped on the floor and took that first bite. Ooooooo glorious I cannot even describe it, my taste buds were sent on different heights of pleasure. Amazing amazing, that bread, the jam…then… then I realized that I was..I was..I was like a common thief! I had just stolen a whole bottle of jam, (because my family does not provide lunch and I had not asked permission) and that meant I had to confess.
Before dinner I guiltily returned the bottle to the pantry, and went into the dining room for confession blabbering in a stream of incoherent French my tale of how my hunger had led me into sin. My stepmother responded that it was not a big deal and then she walked out of the room. I was so confused, was she angry? Then she returned form the pantry with the jam I had stolen and handed it to me. She said I might as well have the whole bottle…ohhw, talk about heaping coals on my head. I was soooo ashamed. And I couldn't help thinking about how I would probably become a family legend, a tale told at Christmas of that exchange student who was a jam thief! It was with a heavy hand that I carried that jam out to my room, I felt like Eve walking out of Eden apple in hand, shoot!! Since then though, I have enjoyed that bottle of jam with some good bread, couldn't let it go to waste you know!!
The past couple of weeks have been sooo much fun though OMG, will tell you all about it soon. I was in Paris for 10 days and I had the time of my life living it up in Gay Paree. Sooooo many stories….will update soon.
And can't forget…..Obaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaama!!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Penniless in Paree
So the first two weeks of class was gruesome!!!! We covered a semester worth of work in two weeks, sitting in class from 9 am to 5pm everyday, with just an hour and a half of break. It was crazy! And then at the end we had an exam and an oral presentation of a paper we had written… whooouu I get tired all over again thinking about it. But then after these two weeks we were rewarded with a four-day weekend in Paris, from Saturday to Tuesday. And ohhhhh man Paris was just amaaaaaaaazing.
You know how every city has a vibe, Paris just thrums with high ceaseless energy. It’s metropolitan and international and walking the streets and you hear just 40% French, the rest, languages from all over the world. It’s like New York, but richer and chic-er because of all of its culture and class. And the architecture and the tourism and the ambiance…ooo yeah. Our hotel was in the 5eme arrondisement, the Latin quarter, very close to Notre Dame and a lot of other tourist spots, so we were really lucky. And the weather that weekend was perfect so there was really no excuse not to have a good time.
At first I was not so sure about the whole trip. I saw a whole list of compulsory museum visits and sister from Ghana who can barely recognize art, I was thinking, oh gosh, I’m probably gonna fall asleep on my feet but ohhhh no!!!! It was all so amazing, BEAUTIFUL artwork and sculptures that just draw you in and work on your emotions, fantastic! So many times I was just breathless, trying to take it all in, the accuracy of the angles of the sculptures and their smoothness. Gosh, one naked female statue even had freaking cellulite carved believingly onto her thigh. Yeah, that’s talent. And I thought of all the commitment it must have taken to create those things, and I was just inspired. And the Eifel tower at night, one word: BREATHLESS!!!!!!! It was gigantic, monumental, beautiful and just breathtakingly amazing. And when it lit up, whoaaa my breath just got stuck in my throat. And I was hanging out with cool people so it was all so really perfect.
And funny story about how I became penniless in Paris… in my rushed packing for the trip I forgot to take extra money and I did not know the code for my French bankcard so all I had on me was the cash in my purse and for a big city, it wasn’t a lot of money. After buying a scarf and some books, I had left on the last night 5 euro and change and I had to be able to afford lunch the next day so…it was really not the best situation.
Anyway, I was really tired the last night, looking forward to an early night, when a couple peeps from my prog invited me to a jazz club they were going to. Apparently it was free Monday nights, so I was just like why not, “heyyyyy lets jazzzz it up in Pareeeee,” and I went with them.
When we got there, I asked the cuuute bartender, whether we had to pay anything to go in and in his gruff voice he was like “ahhhh mais non ah, rien, jus la premier consomation, ca coute 7 euro.” And I just thought, excellent, I’m not gonna ‘consume’ anything so “heyyyyy lets jazz it up already in parreeee!!”
And we got in. It was disappointingly small and soooo hot, the room where they playing the music. I settled down and began to people watch and noticed how everybody seemed to be tapping their fingers and nodding their heads and I guessed that was the jazz thing to do, so I got engrossed in trying to be like them, look cool and nod my head, when all of a sudden the waiter broke my thoughts and asked for my order. I was thinking, duuude, and just said, “non, rien pour moi,” all the while nodding my head and looking cool. But ooh no, apparently, it was compulsory to get a drink, the cute bartender had left that out!!!!! I was not amused. I looked around quickly to see if I could escape, but nah, we were boxed in. So I picked up my purse, counted my change, barely made 7euros and ordered the drink. I was maaad, what a rip off! And when the drink came, I was sooo thirsty, I drank it in two gulps and put my glass down with a thud. There goes 7 euros were my exact angry thoughts.
Then when the waiter brought the bill, for seven of us who ordered together, it cost over $100 euros, Aiiiii !!!!!!!!!!!!! Apparently the bartender had also failed to say that you paid obligatoirement for your drink and contributed the same amount for the music you were enjoying, WHAT THE HECK!!! So I needed to cough up 15 euros, and all I had was 7. Whoooo sister, I began to sweat, the temperature suddenly rising by several degrees. And there was no way out, not even if I crawled!!! People had started to get their money out, grumbling, but getting it out all the same. Ai what was I to do? Perhaps, I could faint!? Nah, too dramatic. So many thoughts were running through my head, and I guess they reflected on my face cos one of my friends asked if I needed help and she lent me 10 euros to bail myself out. I was FUMING, 15 freaking Euros: that could had got me the cute top I had been eyeing, a couple good books, 15 baguettes, 3 lunches, and in Ghana oh mannn, 100 balls of kenkey, over 60 roasted plantain, a month lunch of delicious waakye. And I don’t even really like jazz to top it up! I had just gone because, “heeyyyy its pareeee,” dannit!!!!!! After paying so much money to be there I was determined to enjoy the music and so got into nodding my head vigorously and tapping my fingers with all my might!! I got a couple weird stares doing that, but heyyyyyyyy, it’s paree!!
It ended up being an okay night after all. The music was actually good and improv too. There were two band members and different musicians would come in, pay up of course, and then wait a turn to play their instrument with the band. They’d just join in like that, play with the band, and then get a 5 minute solo where they would strum out their own tunes on their saxes, bass guitars, flutes etc. It was beautiful to watch them get into their music, merge with their play and release their emotions at the same time their tunes. Their queued for this chance up there, those 5 minutes when they could let themselves lose and be one with their music, sharing themselves and their art with whomever would.
That’s what I learned a lot about that weekend actually, believing in yourself and your work and having the courage to share it. It’s good advice, and was expensive too :). And oh the next day, yeah I starved. I listened to my stomach growl during lunch and I imagined it to be beautiful Jazz music. I mean hey it was Pareee afterall, magic happens.
I returned to Strasbourg have now started classes proper and oh so many stories. Updates to come shortly.
You know how every city has a vibe, Paris just thrums with high ceaseless energy. It’s metropolitan and international and walking the streets and you hear just 40% French, the rest, languages from all over the world. It’s like New York, but richer and chic-er because of all of its culture and class. And the architecture and the tourism and the ambiance…ooo yeah. Our hotel was in the 5eme arrondisement, the Latin quarter, very close to Notre Dame and a lot of other tourist spots, so we were really lucky. And the weather that weekend was perfect so there was really no excuse not to have a good time.
At first I was not so sure about the whole trip. I saw a whole list of compulsory museum visits and sister from Ghana who can barely recognize art, I was thinking, oh gosh, I’m probably gonna fall asleep on my feet but ohhhh no!!!! It was all so amazing, BEAUTIFUL artwork and sculptures that just draw you in and work on your emotions, fantastic! So many times I was just breathless, trying to take it all in, the accuracy of the angles of the sculptures and their smoothness. Gosh, one naked female statue even had freaking cellulite carved believingly onto her thigh. Yeah, that’s talent. And I thought of all the commitment it must have taken to create those things, and I was just inspired. And the Eifel tower at night, one word: BREATHLESS!!!!!!! It was gigantic, monumental, beautiful and just breathtakingly amazing. And when it lit up, whoaaa my breath just got stuck in my throat. And I was hanging out with cool people so it was all so really perfect.
And funny story about how I became penniless in Paris… in my rushed packing for the trip I forgot to take extra money and I did not know the code for my French bankcard so all I had on me was the cash in my purse and for a big city, it wasn’t a lot of money. After buying a scarf and some books, I had left on the last night 5 euro and change and I had to be able to afford lunch the next day so…it was really not the best situation.
Anyway, I was really tired the last night, looking forward to an early night, when a couple peeps from my prog invited me to a jazz club they were going to. Apparently it was free Monday nights, so I was just like why not, “heyyyyy lets jazzzz it up in Pareeeee,” and I went with them.
When we got there, I asked the cuuute bartender, whether we had to pay anything to go in and in his gruff voice he was like “ahhhh mais non ah, rien, jus la premier consomation, ca coute 7 euro.” And I just thought, excellent, I’m not gonna ‘consume’ anything so “heyyyyy lets jazz it up already in parreeee!!”
And we got in. It was disappointingly small and soooo hot, the room where they playing the music. I settled down and began to people watch and noticed how everybody seemed to be tapping their fingers and nodding their heads and I guessed that was the jazz thing to do, so I got engrossed in trying to be like them, look cool and nod my head, when all of a sudden the waiter broke my thoughts and asked for my order. I was thinking, duuude, and just said, “non, rien pour moi,” all the while nodding my head and looking cool. But ooh no, apparently, it was compulsory to get a drink, the cute bartender had left that out!!!!! I was not amused. I looked around quickly to see if I could escape, but nah, we were boxed in. So I picked up my purse, counted my change, barely made 7euros and ordered the drink. I was maaad, what a rip off! And when the drink came, I was sooo thirsty, I drank it in two gulps and put my glass down with a thud. There goes 7 euros were my exact angry thoughts.
Then when the waiter brought the bill, for seven of us who ordered together, it cost over $100 euros, Aiiiii !!!!!!!!!!!!! Apparently the bartender had also failed to say that you paid obligatoirement for your drink and contributed the same amount for the music you were enjoying, WHAT THE HECK!!! So I needed to cough up 15 euros, and all I had was 7. Whoooo sister, I began to sweat, the temperature suddenly rising by several degrees. And there was no way out, not even if I crawled!!! People had started to get their money out, grumbling, but getting it out all the same. Ai what was I to do? Perhaps, I could faint!? Nah, too dramatic. So many thoughts were running through my head, and I guess they reflected on my face cos one of my friends asked if I needed help and she lent me 10 euros to bail myself out. I was FUMING, 15 freaking Euros: that could had got me the cute top I had been eyeing, a couple good books, 15 baguettes, 3 lunches, and in Ghana oh mannn, 100 balls of kenkey, over 60 roasted plantain, a month lunch of delicious waakye. And I don’t even really like jazz to top it up! I had just gone because, “heeyyyy its pareeee,” dannit!!!!!! After paying so much money to be there I was determined to enjoy the music and so got into nodding my head vigorously and tapping my fingers with all my might!! I got a couple weird stares doing that, but heyyyyyyyy, it’s paree!!
It ended up being an okay night after all. The music was actually good and improv too. There were two band members and different musicians would come in, pay up of course, and then wait a turn to play their instrument with the band. They’d just join in like that, play with the band, and then get a 5 minute solo where they would strum out their own tunes on their saxes, bass guitars, flutes etc. It was beautiful to watch them get into their music, merge with their play and release their emotions at the same time their tunes. Their queued for this chance up there, those 5 minutes when they could let themselves lose and be one with their music, sharing themselves and their art with whomever would.
That’s what I learned a lot about that weekend actually, believing in yourself and your work and having the courage to share it. It’s good advice, and was expensive too :). And oh the next day, yeah I starved. I listened to my stomach growl during lunch and I imagined it to be beautiful Jazz music. I mean hey it was Pareee afterall, magic happens.
I returned to Strasbourg have now started classes proper and oh so many stories. Updates to come shortly.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
...and then we dined across the border
So when I last updated, I ended off with my finding the "Ghana House Boutique" right in center city Strasbourg, alongside all the other big stores. Well good for me about this find, because it led to an interesting adventure…
So I got off the tram, entered the shop and started chatting with this lady, the owner of the shop who is very Ghanaian and a boga by all standards. And what an interesting conversation we had, her sentences a medley of twi, english and French. Classically, she asked me as I was leaving the shop, "sweetie, give me the numero of your portable eh, quelquefois m3 fr3 wo!" Can you beat that!
Anyway, I found out from her where the Ghanaian church in Stras is, and apparently there are 5! In this city of about 400,000 people there are about 1,000 Ghanaians this lady says, and 5 churches. And Ghana is not even french-speaking?!
So Sunday after I met this lady I got ready for church and unknowingly, also for a very interesting adventure. At the tram stop in center city, as I was trying to figure out my way, you know, craning my neck up at the map and making frantic calls to the lady from the shop, checking my watch, a grey-haired African man walked up to me. A black knight to this damsel in distress, I suppose is how he saw himself. Anyway I needed help so I told him where I was going and he was like "Ohhhh, I'm going to the same place!! Why don't you come with me?" Jollily I said yes, and we got on the tram together.
On the tram we sat together and brother starts to chat: He's in his mid-forties, a German citizen, has divorced a German wife, has a kid with an African American woman who was a soldier in Germany, his kid is 8 and he barely knows her. I got all of this history on the less than 40 min ride it took us to get the church. We got there an hour late, but since this is a Ghanaian church it was only about starting. During the service we sat side by side and a couple of times brother leaned over to ask, you know like what hymn we were singing and stuff like that. Apparently all this had not gone unnoticed because after the service, they invited all newcomers (looking pointedly at brother and I) to come up and introduce themselves. They said: " Monsieur et Madame la bas, SVP, venez." So we did. And after brother introduces himself, they were like, "Oh why don't you hand the mic to your WIFE!!!!!" The horrors!!! Here I was being married off to a grey-haired, mid-forties, stranger while there were several eligible young French-Ghanaian gentlemen in the audience looking on. What the heck!!. I had to save face somehow so I burst out, sputtering in broken French that "Ooooooo Nooooo, biensurr nonnnnnnn. NON, I am NOT his wife." And guess what… the congregation burst out laughing, like rib cracking laughs!!! And hubby brother, he just stood there and grinned endlessly like a goofy expectant groom of a reluctant mail order bride!!! I mean looking back know I kinda see the humor, but geez, way to wound my ego on my first day. And to make it worse, I think brother kinda liked the idea because he has been calling me ever since, to wish me good night, good afternoon and gros bisous (*shudder*).
Anyway, after church, we walked back to the tram station amidst endless jokes from brother about this delightful confusion that had just passed. He suggested introducing me to his niece who is a young college student, French-African who grew up in Paris and was also new in the area. We went over to her dorm room, and what a great girls, Malivina and her best friend Vanessa. Like true Africans, without much introduction we chatted for like an hour, went over to visit another African guy in the building, chatted for like three hours and then finally realized around 7.30 pm that we had missed lunch and were very hungry. So we drove like 15 minutes into Germany for dinner (because stores in Strasbourg close at 7pm and most of them don't open on Sundays). And had junkf fast food (which I have really missed) and of course, the brothers picked up the bill. Afterwards, we took a walk on this beautiful beautiful bridge that connects Germany and France and we had such a good time. What a day!!
This weekend I have been in Paris and ohhhh soo many stories. Update on that will be coming soon.
So I got off the tram, entered the shop and started chatting with this lady, the owner of the shop who is very Ghanaian and a boga by all standards. And what an interesting conversation we had, her sentences a medley of twi, english and French. Classically, she asked me as I was leaving the shop, "sweetie, give me the numero of your portable eh, quelquefois m3 fr3 wo!" Can you beat that!
Anyway, I found out from her where the Ghanaian church in Stras is, and apparently there are 5! In this city of about 400,000 people there are about 1,000 Ghanaians this lady says, and 5 churches. And Ghana is not even french-speaking?!
So Sunday after I met this lady I got ready for church and unknowingly, also for a very interesting adventure. At the tram stop in center city, as I was trying to figure out my way, you know, craning my neck up at the map and making frantic calls to the lady from the shop, checking my watch, a grey-haired African man walked up to me. A black knight to this damsel in distress, I suppose is how he saw himself. Anyway I needed help so I told him where I was going and he was like "Ohhhh, I'm going to the same place!! Why don't you come with me?" Jollily I said yes, and we got on the tram together.
On the tram we sat together and brother starts to chat: He's in his mid-forties, a German citizen, has divorced a German wife, has a kid with an African American woman who was a soldier in Germany, his kid is 8 and he barely knows her. I got all of this history on the less than 40 min ride it took us to get the church. We got there an hour late, but since this is a Ghanaian church it was only about starting. During the service we sat side by side and a couple of times brother leaned over to ask, you know like what hymn we were singing and stuff like that. Apparently all this had not gone unnoticed because after the service, they invited all newcomers (looking pointedly at brother and I) to come up and introduce themselves. They said: " Monsieur et Madame la bas, SVP, venez." So we did. And after brother introduces himself, they were like, "Oh why don't you hand the mic to your WIFE!!!!!" The horrors!!! Here I was being married off to a grey-haired, mid-forties, stranger while there were several eligible young French-Ghanaian gentlemen in the audience looking on. What the heck!!. I had to save face somehow so I burst out, sputtering in broken French that "Ooooooo Nooooo, biensurr nonnnnnnn. NON, I am NOT his wife." And guess what… the congregation burst out laughing, like rib cracking laughs!!! And hubby brother, he just stood there and grinned endlessly like a goofy expectant groom of a reluctant mail order bride!!! I mean looking back know I kinda see the humor, but geez, way to wound my ego on my first day. And to make it worse, I think brother kinda liked the idea because he has been calling me ever since, to wish me good night, good afternoon and gros bisous (*shudder*).
Anyway, after church, we walked back to the tram station amidst endless jokes from brother about this delightful confusion that had just passed. He suggested introducing me to his niece who is a young college student, French-African who grew up in Paris and was also new in the area. We went over to her dorm room, and what a great girls, Malivina and her best friend Vanessa. Like true Africans, without much introduction we chatted for like an hour, went over to visit another African guy in the building, chatted for like three hours and then finally realized around 7.30 pm that we had missed lunch and were very hungry. So we drove like 15 minutes into Germany for dinner (because stores in Strasbourg close at 7pm and most of them don't open on Sundays). And had junkf fast food (which I have really missed) and of course, the brothers picked up the bill. Afterwards, we took a walk on this beautiful beautiful bridge that connects Germany and France and we had such a good time. What a day!!
This weekend I have been in Paris and ohhhh soo many stories. Update on that will be coming soon.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
ah oui oui Strasbourg!
A Strasbourg!!
Hey guys!!!!
So my summer blog was a total flop and I don’t think a blog of my study abroad will be any better, but I’m gonna try really really hard, maybe 3 entries about Straz? We’ll see!!
I got to Strasbourg on Monday, after a 24 hour flight from Accra through Dubai to Paris and then to Stras. It was not such a bad trip and I loved that I got to see Dubai even though it was just the airport and only for a couple hours. There were about 5 people from my high school (Go Gey Hey) on my flight. 4 were from U of Ghana studying abroad in France and another was flying to school in China, she’s in med school there!!
And then I got to Charles de Gaulle in Paris and I was like “OMG, they like… speak only French here!!” Lolllll, this was when it really struck me what I was about. And it was at this eureka moment when I was all panicky that some poor old French woman chose to come up to me to ask a question. I think I must have really shouted: ”pas de francais,” because I got a few stange stares. I know: wayyyy to be chic in Paris, right!! It was not for long though, the panic attack, and I got over myself soon enough and settled down to kill three hours before my flight to Stras.
Then lo, a cuuute brother walked up to me, all afro-euro chic and smooth. He asked: “tu veux un taxi ?” And to this question I did not panic, I took some seconds to gracefully batt my eyelashes, pull my neck in and out a couple of time, smile coyly and finally purr, “non, mais c’est tous?” Ha, brother just walked off to find another customer!!! I was like, ‘dudddde where’s the love? This is Paris mahnnnnnnn, amour, amour!! Painful first blow but I dealt with it and settled down to people watch till I got on my flight to Stras. It was a small plane and like 45mins to Stras. I slept throughout I was sooo jetlagged.
My host family and a lady from my prog met me at the airport. Ma famille is really nice- Daddy: Karim, Mummy: Amina, Kids: Jaoud and Iness. And OMG Joaud is soooooo finnnne, as in super model hottttt! He’s French-Algerian, with beautiful tan skin, a jauntily manly walk, accented English, a sparkling smile, and perfect manners. And oh yeah, he’s 16 and LOOOOOOVES Rihana, lol.. And Iness is very pretty as well, also model thin with beautiful skin and she’s 13. The kids are so well mannered. The first time we met they each offered their cheeks for the double French kiss and agya sista from Ghana, it took me a while to figure out what was up before I finally offered my cheek and cluck clucked in the air instead of the chic, ‘mwah, mwah.’ Hmm, is hard but on va apprendre.
My family is observing the fast this Ramadan so I eat my breakfast and dinner with another American student who is also staying here. He’s from Colorado, Alex. He’s pretty cool. However, after the EID feast, (which I am counting the days to btw, looking forward to a soiree), we will have dinner and breakfast together as a family. Soo cute, right!
And my home is very beautiful, a three-storey house set in this picturesque suburb with lots of greens and a big park. I live in a room in the attic, with euro-maghrebian décor and I have the whole floor to myself with my own beautiful bathroom and all. Sweet! My home is also very conveniently located, close to the tram that I take to school in the city. The tram is a much more modern version of the philly trolley, much much much more modern (not hatin on Philly oooo, lol). And It has big glass widows so it’s makes for really enjoyable riding.
It takes me 30 mins to get to the city and to school and what a lovely ride! Gosh, this city is really really pretty, so quaint and unreal almost: with a river running through the center of the city and the trams perpetually moving through the streets. And there’s so much French and pastries and French and bread and French and snob that you could film a silent movie and it would still be very evidently French!
So my first day on the tram, right in center city I notice a shop “Ghana House Boutique.” I was so excited, it was right there you know, with all the other big shops, Hermes and Mango and stuff that I was not sure if it was truly a Ghanaian shop. O but I was excited nonetheless. Gosh, I even dreamed about it that night! And the next day with the first break I had, I hopped on the tram and went in search of the shop and O la la la……
To be continued…..
(my fingers are hurting and I should probs study a little so I promise to continue tomorrow cause I still have so much to talk about!!)
And please oo, all this blogging is not for naught, I expect to be kept updated on all of your lives, so please please share share ☺
Hey guys!!!!
So my summer blog was a total flop and I don’t think a blog of my study abroad will be any better, but I’m gonna try really really hard, maybe 3 entries about Straz? We’ll see!!
I got to Strasbourg on Monday, after a 24 hour flight from Accra through Dubai to Paris and then to Stras. It was not such a bad trip and I loved that I got to see Dubai even though it was just the airport and only for a couple hours. There were about 5 people from my high school (Go Gey Hey) on my flight. 4 were from U of Ghana studying abroad in France and another was flying to school in China, she’s in med school there!!
And then I got to Charles de Gaulle in Paris and I was like “OMG, they like… speak only French here!!” Lolllll, this was when it really struck me what I was about. And it was at this eureka moment when I was all panicky that some poor old French woman chose to come up to me to ask a question. I think I must have really shouted: ”pas de francais,” because I got a few stange stares. I know: wayyyy to be chic in Paris, right!! It was not for long though, the panic attack, and I got over myself soon enough and settled down to kill three hours before my flight to Stras.
Then lo, a cuuute brother walked up to me, all afro-euro chic and smooth. He asked: “tu veux un taxi ?” And to this question I did not panic, I took some seconds to gracefully batt my eyelashes, pull my neck in and out a couple of time, smile coyly and finally purr, “non, mais c’est tous?” Ha, brother just walked off to find another customer!!! I was like, ‘dudddde where’s the love? This is Paris mahnnnnnnn, amour, amour!! Painful first blow but I dealt with it and settled down to people watch till I got on my flight to Stras. It was a small plane and like 45mins to Stras. I slept throughout I was sooo jetlagged.
My host family and a lady from my prog met me at the airport. Ma famille is really nice- Daddy: Karim, Mummy: Amina, Kids: Jaoud and Iness. And OMG Joaud is soooooo finnnne, as in super model hottttt! He’s French-Algerian, with beautiful tan skin, a jauntily manly walk, accented English, a sparkling smile, and perfect manners. And oh yeah, he’s 16 and LOOOOOOVES Rihana, lol.. And Iness is very pretty as well, also model thin with beautiful skin and she’s 13. The kids are so well mannered. The first time we met they each offered their cheeks for the double French kiss and agya sista from Ghana, it took me a while to figure out what was up before I finally offered my cheek and cluck clucked in the air instead of the chic, ‘mwah, mwah.’ Hmm, is hard but on va apprendre.
My family is observing the fast this Ramadan so I eat my breakfast and dinner with another American student who is also staying here. He’s from Colorado, Alex. He’s pretty cool. However, after the EID feast, (which I am counting the days to btw, looking forward to a soiree), we will have dinner and breakfast together as a family. Soo cute, right!
And my home is very beautiful, a three-storey house set in this picturesque suburb with lots of greens and a big park. I live in a room in the attic, with euro-maghrebian décor and I have the whole floor to myself with my own beautiful bathroom and all. Sweet! My home is also very conveniently located, close to the tram that I take to school in the city. The tram is a much more modern version of the philly trolley, much much much more modern (not hatin on Philly oooo, lol). And It has big glass widows so it’s makes for really enjoyable riding.
It takes me 30 mins to get to the city and to school and what a lovely ride! Gosh, this city is really really pretty, so quaint and unreal almost: with a river running through the center of the city and the trams perpetually moving through the streets. And there’s so much French and pastries and French and bread and French and snob that you could film a silent movie and it would still be very evidently French!
So my first day on the tram, right in center city I notice a shop “Ghana House Boutique.” I was so excited, it was right there you know, with all the other big shops, Hermes and Mango and stuff that I was not sure if it was truly a Ghanaian shop. O but I was excited nonetheless. Gosh, I even dreamed about it that night! And the next day with the first break I had, I hopped on the tram and went in search of the shop and O la la la……
To be continued…..
(my fingers are hurting and I should probs study a little so I promise to continue tomorrow cause I still have so much to talk about!!)
And please oo, all this blogging is not for naught, I expect to be kept updated on all of your lives, so please please share share ☺
Summer tiiiiime
I wrote this during summer back but never got to post it...the rest of the story i'll tell with pictures posted on facebook.
----
Finally another update! It’s been forever, I know, but I’ve been busy and I don’t have regular internet access so forgive me a little.
I’ve been home for a month and a half now so I definitely have a lot to talk about. It’s been really really great being in Ghana and working here. It opens my eyes to the possibilities as well as the challenges. All in all, my time home thus far has been insightful.
FIRST WEEK
So for the first week I was home I just rested. Sha I was tired mann. Once I landed it felt like all the fatigue of the past two years came crushing upon me. I just could not help but sleep, and it didn’t even matter if I was not in bed. On the day right after I arrived for instance, my mom’s church group was organizing a retiring ceremony for a group of women and my mom was part of it so I went with her. O dear!!! Here I was, in a hot pink fitting dress when everyone else was dressed very traditionally and conservatively in white. Not only that, when most people had covered their hair or tied up decently, mine was twisted up, all natural and I looked pretty wild by GH standards. And to make matters worse, I could not stay awake. My head bobbed endlessly and shamelessly during the sermon. Even the gentle pokes of the kindly old lady by my side did nothing for me, I just kept on bobbing! And when my neck could take it no more I put my head on my lap and passed out. Soooooo shameful eii, I even slept through the mega loud praise sessions and who knows, perhaps I let out some snores, o dear!
Stint with UNESCO
In the second week, a little rejuvenated, I got it into my head that an internship at UNESCO was my calling for the summer (in addition to the BP). So I whipped up a super application letter, polished my resume and set off to wow the people at the office. How could they resist me? Hmm, apparently, all my ‘qualifications’ were inadequate to combat the impenetrable bureaucracy that is the UN! Heck, I show up at the UNESCO office in Accra and they tell me that for a job in the (very small) Accra office I had to apply “au siege a Paris”- to their freaking headquarters in Paris!!!! What do those people there know about the happenings on the ground in Accra, huh? Anyway, I swallowed my indignation and sent in the application to the HQ in Paris. That was more than 2 months ago. In case you are wondering, I haven’t heard back.
Kathy Knowles, Bi-co International and Strasbourg J'arrive
So, that tucked aside, I moved on to other things. I lucked out in meeting a childhood inspiration of mine, Kathy Knowles. OMG this woman is fantastic, she’s like a modern day Mother Theresa for childhood literacy. She is white Canadian and has built more than 5 community libraries in Ghana, some in very impoverished and neglected areas. She is changing lives I tell you. I used to be a member of one of her libraries when I was younger and so I know first hand what an impact the libraries make. Anyway, when I found out she was in Ghana I sent her an email and set an appointment to see her. Our meeting went so well that she invited me to an opening of one of her libraries and also asked me to oversee a huge book clearing project for her at the harbor. At the library opening, surprises surprises: I meet a Bryn Mawr alum. What are the chances, right!!!! (O and mind you, the weekend before I had met Harverford alum Andrew Garza at a mall in Accra!) Take about the Bi-Co getting international. Anyway, the library opening was in a small coastal village on the outskirts of Accra. It was organized by the community and was awfully long and elaborate though beautiful. So in the long hours spent under the canopy at the event, I bonded with the BMC alum. She’s Amanda Young and a Watson fellow who is in Ghana as part of her fellowship. She’s researching the transformative power of libraries on developing communities and we had so much to talk about, it was great. She’s gonna be back in Accra this week and we’ll try and meet up and go shopping or something. Yay for BMC bonds : )
After that week, I worked on my french visa application and good news… watch out Strasbourg, Debbie’s coming!!!! It was a fairly painless process. I’m really excited for this. My host family is a French-Algerian and muslim. Bothe parents are psyholosgists!! How cool is that, and what a novel experience it will be.
And Akua Peprah was in Ghana last week and we hung out a bit. Phoebe Arde-Acquah (BMC) and Naa Kwarley (HC) are also in Accra but we haven’t met yet.
French, France, freaking fired up!!
And then in the last couple of weeks, I’ve been taking classes at the Alliance Francaise in Accra to brush up my French a little before I leave. I got to class for 2 hours every day except Sundays. It’s been interesting so far. I’m meeting new people, and also reconnecting with some old friends who are also taking classes at l’ecole.
The Baobab Prize
So alongside all of these activities, I have been working on my summer project, the Baobab Prize. It’s been really grueling since it is a virtual project and I do not have internet access at home. I spend most of my mornings doing work at an internet café close to my home. It’s been really crazy trying to figure everything out for the competition, mainly because the scope of the project is so wide. However I’m pretty set now, website’s created and I’m starting now on advertising and fund raising for the project. Please check out the website, spread word about the competition and lemme know whatever comments you have, especially about the website and its format. It’s still very new and may need some tweaking.
And that’s the update so far. I’ll try and be more regular :)
----
Finally another update! It’s been forever, I know, but I’ve been busy and I don’t have regular internet access so forgive me a little.
I’ve been home for a month and a half now so I definitely have a lot to talk about. It’s been really really great being in Ghana and working here. It opens my eyes to the possibilities as well as the challenges. All in all, my time home thus far has been insightful.
FIRST WEEK
So for the first week I was home I just rested. Sha I was tired mann. Once I landed it felt like all the fatigue of the past two years came crushing upon me. I just could not help but sleep, and it didn’t even matter if I was not in bed. On the day right after I arrived for instance, my mom’s church group was organizing a retiring ceremony for a group of women and my mom was part of it so I went with her. O dear!!! Here I was, in a hot pink fitting dress when everyone else was dressed very traditionally and conservatively in white. Not only that, when most people had covered their hair or tied up decently, mine was twisted up, all natural and I looked pretty wild by GH standards. And to make matters worse, I could not stay awake. My head bobbed endlessly and shamelessly during the sermon. Even the gentle pokes of the kindly old lady by my side did nothing for me, I just kept on bobbing! And when my neck could take it no more I put my head on my lap and passed out. Soooooo shameful eii, I even slept through the mega loud praise sessions and who knows, perhaps I let out some snores, o dear!
Stint with UNESCO
In the second week, a little rejuvenated, I got it into my head that an internship at UNESCO was my calling for the summer (in addition to the BP). So I whipped up a super application letter, polished my resume and set off to wow the people at the office. How could they resist me? Hmm, apparently, all my ‘qualifications’ were inadequate to combat the impenetrable bureaucracy that is the UN! Heck, I show up at the UNESCO office in Accra and they tell me that for a job in the (very small) Accra office I had to apply “au siege a Paris”- to their freaking headquarters in Paris!!!! What do those people there know about the happenings on the ground in Accra, huh? Anyway, I swallowed my indignation and sent in the application to the HQ in Paris. That was more than 2 months ago. In case you are wondering, I haven’t heard back.
Kathy Knowles, Bi-co International and Strasbourg J'arrive
So, that tucked aside, I moved on to other things. I lucked out in meeting a childhood inspiration of mine, Kathy Knowles. OMG this woman is fantastic, she’s like a modern day Mother Theresa for childhood literacy. She is white Canadian and has built more than 5 community libraries in Ghana, some in very impoverished and neglected areas. She is changing lives I tell you. I used to be a member of one of her libraries when I was younger and so I know first hand what an impact the libraries make. Anyway, when I found out she was in Ghana I sent her an email and set an appointment to see her. Our meeting went so well that she invited me to an opening of one of her libraries and also asked me to oversee a huge book clearing project for her at the harbor. At the library opening, surprises surprises: I meet a Bryn Mawr alum. What are the chances, right!!!! (O and mind you, the weekend before I had met Harverford alum Andrew Garza at a mall in Accra!) Take about the Bi-Co getting international. Anyway, the library opening was in a small coastal village on the outskirts of Accra. It was organized by the community and was awfully long and elaborate though beautiful. So in the long hours spent under the canopy at the event, I bonded with the BMC alum. She’s Amanda Young and a Watson fellow who is in Ghana as part of her fellowship. She’s researching the transformative power of libraries on developing communities and we had so much to talk about, it was great. She’s gonna be back in Accra this week and we’ll try and meet up and go shopping or something. Yay for BMC bonds : )
After that week, I worked on my french visa application and good news… watch out Strasbourg, Debbie’s coming!!!! It was a fairly painless process. I’m really excited for this. My host family is a French-Algerian and muslim. Bothe parents are psyholosgists!! How cool is that, and what a novel experience it will be.
And Akua Peprah was in Ghana last week and we hung out a bit. Phoebe Arde-Acquah (BMC) and Naa Kwarley (HC) are also in Accra but we haven’t met yet.
French, France, freaking fired up!!
And then in the last couple of weeks, I’ve been taking classes at the Alliance Francaise in Accra to brush up my French a little before I leave. I got to class for 2 hours every day except Sundays. It’s been interesting so far. I’m meeting new people, and also reconnecting with some old friends who are also taking classes at l’ecole.
The Baobab Prize
So alongside all of these activities, I have been working on my summer project, the Baobab Prize. It’s been really grueling since it is a virtual project and I do not have internet access at home. I spend most of my mornings doing work at an internet café close to my home. It’s been really crazy trying to figure everything out for the competition, mainly because the scope of the project is so wide. However I’m pretty set now, website’s created and I’m starting now on advertising and fund raising for the project. Please check out the website, spread word about the competition and lemme know whatever comments you have, especially about the website and its format. It’s still very new and may need some tweaking.
And that’s the update so far. I’ll try and be more regular :)
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