Aside from the odd poem I’ve not been too motivated to write lately. Even the poetry has been a little forced. For instance, I was to write a confessional poem for class and struggled quite a bit with it. I was not feeling particularly motivated and even though I spent most of last Sunday night writing, nothing good came of it. So, I woke up Monday morning and ended up writing the following.

Pavlov’s Dog

This confession is forced.
Inadmissible in court!

Forced by the deadline
whose guillotine looms.

I put my pen to paper
and words spring forth.

They are not free like eagles
yet they soar on hot air.

I thought it would be easy
this confession of sin.

Yet long did I struggle
on how to disclose.

That my treasures are many,
my daily misdeeds.

Should I be subtle and witty
or humble, contrite.

Many drafts I did write
yet none did please.

Finally I settled on this,
my effort last minute.

I admit I lacked motivation.
No inspiration came.

Distracted from work I felt
like Pavlov's laboratory dogs.

Whoses mouths would water
but food was not my trigger.

Five new messages would await
and read them I must!

So now I sit here and write
and reluctantly submit.

It is strange and a little sad that my now twice daily commute past the Eiffel tower has begun to feel routine. It is strange that I’ve now been here for over a month and cannot look back on any one single moment as a hall-mark, defining high-water mark. Perhaps it’s because I’ve not taken to documenting my daily life; the lack of pictures and diary allows the days to slip away unremarked. Perhaps it’s because the routine imposed by school acts like a metronome, each week and assignment marks another beat. Perhaps it’s merely the fact that life is routinely banal, no matter how romantic and alluring your surroundings.

In any case, I don’t wish to sound too downbeat. I am merely trying to explain that a month and a half in Paris going to school is not at all like a month and a half of vacation; the demands of daily life do not easily lend themselves to a sense of wonder and exploration. I would be terribly remiss if I let this sentiment pass without an effort to provide balance and perspective in the form of the wonderful things I’ve seen and done.

It’s hard to put a value on the small moments one gets of extreme exhilaration as one spots a particularly beautiful vista, the flashing ray of sunlight which strikes your eye as you bike along the Seine and catches the dome of Des Invalides just so. Or when you’re wandering in a new quartier and you turn a corner and have a perfect view of the Notre Dame hit by flood-lights. Not to mention the jolt of surprise when trying a new route to a friend’s house and realizing your chemin provides you an unobstructed view of Sacre Coeur lit brilliantly in yellow by the setting sun.

Another upside is that my French has improved tremendously. French classes, French cinema, and other exchange students eager to practice all have contributed to a growing ease of speaking and comprehension. Of course, it’s still embarrassing when talking to French people in a bar and asking them to repeat themselves every other sentence because I can’t understand what they’re saying. The language barrier compounds an already existing difficulty; I cannot understand people in my native tongue in a crowded noisy environment, nevermind in French!

This next week should prove to be interesting for me. I’m on vacation for real. No school this week! Due to a serious lack of funds, I am not travelling like almost every other friend that I have met in Paris. So, I plan on playing tourist finally. I want to visit museums (a phrase I thought I would never utter). First however, there is the small matter of the gold medal hockey game. I’m going to watch it at 3 a.m here with a few Canadians I’ve met – and then sleep all day Monday! Woohoo!

The Hunt

The homework from the Poetry workshop this week was a "self-portrait" poem. I figured I'd be a little clever.

The Hunt

i ask your help dear friends
to aid me in my search

its crafty game i seek
whose cunning outwits mine

who no trap can ensnare
nor chase or hunt fatigue

though my quarry escapes
short flashes have i seen

small glimpses of my prey
reflected in your eyes

i call these my collage
a portrait of my toil

imperfect though it be
i hope one day complete

more cunning as I age
with every passing year

my eyes no longer search
directly for my prey

oblique now is their aim
to glimpse my quarrys face

reflected in your eyes
as i pursue my shade.

Triumphe!

From Paris2

P.S - I enabled commenting. I forgot before.

Snow

From Paris

Change

I'm enrolled in a poetry workshop so I figured I may as well share it here, my first poem ever!

"Change"

the stiff sole replaces
a well worn heel.
its new stiffness
mocks old comfort.

thus begins a breaking in.
a familiarization of
soft flesh with
artificial sheath.

soon blisters form
from the struggle
against change.
their result, pain.

our calluses mark relief.
small proofs of victory
in life's endless
struggle.

River to the Right, Eiffel Tower to the left at 20 kilometers an hour

Tonight I rode home on a Velib for the first time. Let's just say that for the first time since my arrival two weeks ago I felt at home and 'in my skin' here. After all the headaches and red-tape of setting up my life I think I can finally say that my life here is now established.

My second class today was 'Living, Thinking, and Staging Revolutions' taught by this man . Again, I continue to be massively impressed with the quality of the teaching staff here. The 'conceit' of the class is that it blends theatre, political philosophy, and history to examine the concept of revolution; which he claims has been the subject of political philosophy over the past two hundred years. Suffice it to say I have instantly fallen in love with this class. If the girls in this class didn't develop an instant crush on him I would be SHOCKED.

After class I got to ride a bike home at night for the first time. What a joy! The streets were fairly deserted as I got out of class at 21h30. Followed the Seine past the Musee D'Orsay, Les Invalides, Pont Alexandre, L'Assemble National, and finally the Eiffel Tower before finally crossing over to the right bank and docking my bike and walking home. Total travel time 25 minutes! Life is definitely calming down now and I couldn't be happier. More classes tomorrow!

Time to kill

Classes began today. Once again the familiar thrill of throwing oneself into the hustle bustle of student life. Once again the familiar routine of hurry up and wait. 5 hour wait between classes makes for an extremely long day. However, it will let me visit all sorts of museums during off-hours if I ever become so inclined. Judging by my enthusiasm level for museums so far, I'm not quite certain this will ever happen!

Anyways. After the disasterous methodology course, I was a little anxious about the instructors here. However, I am happy to say that the first class went well. It's definitely an odd dynamic though. 1/3 of the class were international students and the others were French Sciences Po students. The teacher gamely tried to solicit feedback from the classroom during the lecture but the combination of a language barrier and it being the first class definitely made it harder than normal to get people talking. Being that my lectures are all in English (a subject that I suspect I will lament a few times over the next few months) I expect to see this dynamic occur again a few times. With any luck it will be temporary and class discussions will be lively.

The one nice thing that I'm finding out about the Sciences PO teaching style is that they very much prefer their teachers to have practical experience in the subject areas that they are teaching. For isntance, my morning class on 'Media In Transition' is being taught by one Peter Gumbel , a life-long journalist. My entire time at Concordia I was taught by professors who have mainly known nothing but academia so I'm rather excited to be able to learn from people with decades of experience in subject matters I'm interested in. The fact that I'm extremely interested in almost all of my courses should hopefully mitigate some of the chagrin I feel for enrolling in all English courses in France!

On an unrelated note, I spent the weekend in Lille visiting a friend from Montreal. I apologize once again for the lack of pictures as it is quite the picturesque city. To be quite frank I'm simply not motivated to be taking pictures (nor to write much). It's a bit of a shame as I fear I'll have no concrete reminders of my time here. No matter, life is but a fleeting moment.