is it sacreligious to say the french have no style?

I'm probably just being bitter, but the French girl I'm travelling with here in Berlin is really getting on my nerves. She just doesn't travel in the same way that I do -- that being, trying to really immerse myself into the culture and enjoying the best things the city has to offer (hear that tone of bitterness? I'm sorry, I really can't help myself). Anyway, she hasn't eaten any German food since we've been here, and pretty much only eats muffins and pastries. I'll go on a more detailed rant, but I'll leave you on a lighter note with some photos of this great city.

at least we've got a good average

I have to make this brief, because I'm posting from my hostel where everyone else seems to be asleep. Things are getting a little tense between me and the French girl I'm traveling with, but thankfully I have the movies to lift my spirits. We've seen a fair number of actors so far, which I'll list and hopefully provide a few photos for tomorrow. Berlin isn't gorgeous in the typical sense, but I feel a strong attraction to it, and I'm looking forward to discovering the various neighborhoods starting tomorrow. The two films I've seen thus far have been pretty average - nothing spectacularly mind-blowing - but I'm seeing two competition films on Sunday which will hopefully deliver the goods. Tschuss for now!

is that an asian girl? or, here comes the sun.

This fascination French boys have for Japanese girls is really starting to get on my nerves. Last night, I brought 2 of my japanese friends to a concert (which was good only for people-watching purposes, so I wont even bother to comment further). The first band resembled your everyday high school garage punk trio. Very cute in a 16-year-old-playing-their-first-gig kind of way, they almost upstaged the main act, a band from New York featuring a frontman who spoke in English with a terrible French accent (even though he is from NEW YORK). While it definitely takes balls to diss your entire audience, it's also pretty obnoxious.

While this incredibly un-PC guy was playing his set, the boys from the first bad (or as my friend dubbed them, the jailbait) came over to my friends and gave them a copy of their CD for free. When it became clear that the girls didn't understand completely what he was saying, he switched to English -- because, of course, that would work with girls from Japan where people speak Japanese. Anyway, I almost died laughing watching the kid put his moves on my friends while his wingman (aka the drummer of the band), a Ben Gibbard look-alike shaming true punks everywhere by wearing a Ramones t-shirt, just stood by awkwardly.

My friend (also American) and myself headed off to another party after the concert, but the girls decided to stay on for the after party at a nearby club. We wished them good luck with their new boy toys. But, as my friend pointed out, it didn't seem like they actually knew they were getting hit on. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

The sun finally came out today after a straight week of rain. I hope the weather in Berlin will be better.

selling the school

This afternoon, I met with Delphine, a third-year English major who is one of thirty applicants competing for the one spot granted to a Lyon 3 student at Georgetown next year. She speaks English remarkably fluidly (note: I did not say remarkably well) and has already visited DC and the campus after spending last summer in Maryland. It's amazing to me how difficult it is to go to Georgetown from France when coming here, for me, was a piece of cake. I was the only person who applied to the program for the full year, and the paperwork and interviews were really all just formalities. Delphine seems genuinely interested in coming to Georgetown, so I hope it works out for her. She gets the results in 2 weeks.

As for me, I'm counting down the days to my trip to Berlin. Only 6 days left! I've purchased tickets for the gala screening of "An Education" which received positive reviews at Sundance (and a distribution deal from Sony Pictures Classics). I also have a busy week ahead of me, with a planning pow-wow for a weekend in Chamonix tomorrow night, the theater on Friday night, and a concert on Saturday night. I mean, I've got to make these last 4 months count!

my face is tan, my butt is bruised

I am POOPED after my very first day of snowboarding at the small Savoie-Alps resort of Valmorel. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring my camera with me up to the slopes (it's too bulky, not to mention I would have fallen on it multiple times), but my friend who came with me took some pictures that I hope to post soon.

We had a 4:30am wake up call this morning, which is earlier than I ever hope to wake up ever again. Fortunately, adrenaline overpowered fatigue as I learned the basics with my instructor Sebastien during my morning lesson. He's only 21 and has been teaching snowboarding and skiing for 4 years! He also has really pretty eyelashes, but I digress...

The most traumatizing part was getting up the teleski - not a ski-lift, but the mini lift that you but between your legs to go up short distances. While I got it right the very first time, the next four times saw me face first in the snow. Strangely, both in skiing and in snowboarding, I have a lot of trouble turning left (à la Zoolander), so during my solo practice on the baby slope in the afternoon, there was a lot of turning right, falling, getting back up, and turning right again going on. All that physical activity was made a lot harder by the blazing sun, which provided a gorgeous view of the mountains (and also a lot of sweaty ski gear). We were so lucky to have such good weather.

I am proud to say that on my very last trip down the bunny hill, I made it all the way without falling. That put me in a good mood heading back to our bus (also helped by a delicious dark chocolate crêpe). Now, however, I am bruised all over and am doubtful that I will ever be able to get myself out of bed.

joe, the hipster from kansas

Just got back from a concert at Sonic, one of several peniche-style venues here in Lyon. Traversed by two rivers, the lyonnais apparently have a thing for partying on boats. My main draw to the concert was François Virot, who I had seen previously as the drummer of Clara Clara (pictured below) at another concert venue near the Gare de Vaise called Grrrnd Zero.
The set was just so-so (I preferred Clara Clara), but the people watching was excellent. Especially when my friends and I were approached by a hipster couple (Anastasia and Joe) from Kansas. Anastasia was a little tipsy, and was really eager to tell us -- well, anything, really. Joe was wearing those big hipster glasses and a woolen v-neck sweater and talked with a lisp. Ah, what a lovely pair.

missing the but

Two nights ago, my host brother surprised me with an invitation to the Lyon - Marseille football match last night. Olympique Lyonnais is the best team in France, dominating the Ligue de France championships for the last 6 years running. They also play in the Champions League with teams like Manchester United, FC Barcelona, and AC Milan, but have yet to make it past the quarter finals.

Going to a match has been one of my year-long goals, so I was super excited to go. Thanks to a delay in the métro, we arrived at the game about 10 minutes late -- late enough to miss the one and only goal scored in the match. I was too tired to be upset about it, and the rest of the game was pretty fun to watch anyway. I'm a big sports fan, so being in a stadium with 30,000 other screaming fans was definitely an experience to remember.

My host brother and 12 year old host sister who came along argued pretty much throughout the entire match, which I was expecting because they don't get along all too well. It did get pretty annoying at a certain point though - with my host brother overreacting to my host sister's innocent questions and my host sister constantly complaining about not being able to see anything and asking to move further down, closer to the field. Once we had done that, though, she could see even less. Oh, to be young again.

Probably the most eventful thing to happen on my end was having a cigarette thrown into the hood of my coat. The man behind me was nice enough to alert me to the fact that I was on fire, picking the butt out of the folds of my hood. I was kind of in shock and obscenely embarrassed, and could think of nothing else to say aside from a meek 'Merci'. My host brother and sister reacted more appropriately though, verifying to make sure that my hood wasn't still burning -- which, of course, it was because of some left over ashes. They brushed them out, and I sat in my bleacher seat, cool as a clam. Yes, I was so exhausted I didn't even care I was in the process of catching on fire.

As for today, the big headline is the national grève, France's reaction to the economic crisis. Coming back from class today, I told my host mom that I had seen the huge crowd gathered in Place Bellecour, and she told me "But of course! The demonstration! We're really good at that!". Crossing over the Rhône, I kept wishing I had my camera to take photos - a long caravan of police vans were inching their way through a sea of people, many of whom carried banners and waved signs calling for a change in economic policy from President Sarkozy. Unfortunately, by the time I had recharged my battery and went back outside, the mass of angry protesters had dispersed. But I did get to snap this photo of a banner taped to Louis XIV:Now just imagine a lot of people marching and chanting in this general area. If I was more technologically savvy, I would photo shop them in -- but I guess that would be cheating.