After four days that have felt more like a week and a half, I finally feel like I am in Paris. It took awhile, but I have finally adjusted to the time difference and Parisian lifestyle.
I've already detailed my first night here. So for my second night, I was pretty tired from the first day of classes and decided to hang around the dorm. Though when I was offered to hang out and drink with some of the guys, I had no choice but to say yes. It was my second night as a 21 year old/parisian, why not celebrate?
One thing I should say: there can often be a strange cast of characters in the dorm. Not really because the people who live here are weird; I haven't met too many people where that is the case. No, it is because the only real security offered by the guards and doors and fences is one simple passcode. This is easily obtained information and thus, plenty of people feel the need to show up at our dorm, like the creepy guys from other dorms trying awkwardly to scam on American chicks when we're trying to have an all-English language party.
Anyways, one of the members of the cast of character I got to meet that night was a drug dealer whose name was, no joke, "Sex." Just sex. And not some weird French word that sounds like sex. Actually sex. It means the same thing here. I suppose a drug dealer is a pretty popular person in a dorm where the average age is probably around 21, and a drug dealer named sex is even better. Anyways, Sex was hanging out and we got to have a few beers with him. Sex was nice. I liked sex. (I must admit, I was definitely not the first to use that joke, nor will I be the last.)
After drinking for a little while longer, I got the option to go out to some bars at around 12:15 am. Despite my desire to do so, I used my better judgment and went to sleep, as I had to be up before 8 again the next morning.
After a rather uneventful Thursday, I really wanted to go out and see some of the bars in Paris on Friday night. It was a slightly different feel, though, from America, as things do not get going until very late around here. I doubt pre-gaming starts much before nine pm, and nobody leaves the dorm to go out before 11. Finally, around 11:30, I headed out to meet some of the girls from my program.
We went first to a bar near Saint-Michel called the Frog and the Princess. As my first bar in Paris, it was a very easy transition, since the bar was essentially American. Our waiter was from Philadelphia, though had a bit of a French accent, and everything was written in English. Unfortunately, though the prices were distinctly European. Beers were 7 euros, mixed drinks were 10-12, and everything else was mostly expensive. A pitcher of mojitos was the best deal we could find, so we polished that off.
Right before we left, we were treated to a nice encounter. A big, burly Scottish guy in a kilt and rugby jersey walked by our table and the girls were intrigued enough to ask for a picture. After lifting up his kilt and flashing us, he proceeded to creepily grab and stare down one of the girls. We left soon after. But interestingly enough, I've seen about 10 guys dressed like the one we saw in the bar since then. I know Scots usually save the kilts for formal occasions, so I'm wondering if there's some sort of weird convention of kilt wearers in town or something.
The second bar we were going to, by the Luxembourg Gardens was closed (Paris has a 2 am shut down policy, but I think it may only be 15% followed. It would seem bars just close when everyone leaves.) so we backtracked and went to another bar. This one was decidedly more French, and filled with middle aged French guys who liked to take their shirts off to one French song in particular. I got a rum and coke and a caipirinha, and enjoyed the music, which consisted of french club hits, 1980's american hits, and, awesomely, daft punk. After a creepy French guy who looked like Johnny Depp mized with one of the guys from Pawn Stars started hitting on the girls, we decided it was probably time to leave. This was at about 3:30 am. When I finally, after a long walk, got home at 4:15, I was pretty beat, but psyched about my first Parisian weekend.
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