La Rentée

Apologies to all (but especially Guggi!) for the recent lack of entries!

The reason for my absence: (the eagerly-awaited, the dreaded, the much-advertised...) La Rentrée.  Apparently, getting back to school is so important to the French that they have a name for the whole affair.  Bookstores advertise cute notebooks with quotes from Rousseau, Montaigne, Proust scrawled across the cover.  Mamans tote their well-dressed children to shoe stores for new kicks. Tourists begin to peter out.  Parisians begin to walk a bit faster and look a bit haggard-er on the metro.  And the temperature begins to drop.

I, in my nerdy way, am thrilled.  For the past week or so, all of Paris has been holding its breath, hesitating on Fall's doorstep, not quite ready to commit.  The days remain long but the sun begins to soften in late afternoon.  As I write this, it's 7:30pm and the sky is still bright blue, though a soft orange haze is creeping up the sides of the buildings.  The chimneys are etched in gold and a purple light seems to rise from the streets.  The smell of burned leaves is in the air; the morning will be stark and gray.

I've been incredibly pleased and refreshed at fall's impending arrival, and incredibly tired.  Courses at the Sorbonne haven't started yet, but I'm taking a three-week class at Middlebury's center on the methodology of French literary analysis.  The class should be called: Attempt to Master (in three weeks) the Most Precise, Rigid, Nuanced, and Detailed Style of Essay You Have ever Encountered.  Every class feels like an assault: the (real!) French professor yells at us about the necessity of doing everything absolutely right and then tears our feeble attempts to pieces.  I'm feeling inundated with information, overwhelmed, and stressed.  On the bright side, my professor's response to one of my assignments was, "I'm pleasantly surprised that you understood the homework.  It was almost good" (look of disbelief).  In conclusion: KUDOS to my French friends.  I have a new respect for you and your education system.

What can you do but don a giant wool scarf, munch an apple (which are in season!!), and head off to the metro with a carefully-crafted expression of ennui and existential distress?  You'll fit right in (that is, until you can't help but smile (the French don't smile, remember?) at the crisp fall sunlight).

Gros bisous mes chers lecteurs!

Alice