Faire les gros yeux à tout le monde

In order to be truly Parisian, it is essential to perfect your scowl.  After spending several weeks closely examining people on the Metro, I believe I have done just that.  You kind of have to stand in the corner, cross your arms, and put your lips in almost a pout formation, but not quite.  You also must be ready and willing to narrow your eyes at any given moment; God forbid someone smiles at you, or worse, attempts to speak to you.  You must IMMEDIATELY give them a dirty look, shift your weight from one leg to the other, and let out an audible sigh of annoyance.  It is then, and only then, you will be accepted as a Parisian, and you will send tourists and other Parisians scurrying down the Metro aisle, afraid for their lives and/or dignity.

Although I’m half-kidding, there is a shred of seriousness in the above mentioned tactics.  Kevin and Dan have also perfected their scowls, and have noticed that they receive fewer skeptical glances from other Metro riders.  Almost all Parisians walk around with such a look on their face, and it’s really different from what Americans are used to.  There are no (as the French call them) “fake niceties,” and no need to smile at the passersby on the streets because you will never see them again.  I guess it’s something I have to get used to, considering I’m generally walking around with a big, goofy smile on my face.  I’ll keep you posted as to how this progresses.

Jill, my future roommate, came over last night for dinner.  Kelsey made a great whole-wheat pasta dish with seasoned chicken, sautéed carrots and red peppers, which was excellent.  We just chatted for a bit, and were so tired and lazy that we didn’t actually make it over to Marina’s wine and cheese party, which is unfortunate because I think it would’ve been really fun.  Hopefully we’ll be able to have another one sometime soon to get to know more people.