There's a generation of future deaf people being raised in Paris right now. I read somewhere since coming to this country that Paris is the loneliest city on the planet. I have no idea how one goes about measuring that, but if they did it by number of MP3 players per capita, Paris wins, hands down. Because I cannot go anywhere (really, no one my age goes anywhere) without an MP3 player and headphones. Whether it's grocery shopping, wandering the Jardins de Luxembourg, riding the Metro, or drinking a cafe au lait alone in a cafe, I nearly always have my headphones with me. This started as a defense mechanism to keep me from either 1) going crazy from hearing too much French when I first arrived or b) being macked on by Frenchmen in a language I still don't know too well. Now it has morphed into this obsession to have a soundtrack of every moment. This would be weird except that it seems all the French people my age seem to share it. None of this is a problem, though it probably makes us all a little antisocial (really, though, no one has any business striking up conversations on the Metro anyway, so it is probably for the betterment of society). The problem, though, is that because the Metro and this city in general are such loud places, we all listen to our headphones at top volume and are probably going to lose our sense of hearing by the time we are 30. Perhaps me, Mademoiselle Illegal-groupie-promoter-of-a-French-rock-band more than anyone else.
Until then, I have every intention of filling my moments of boredom with the Love Actually soundtrack, 30 Seconds to Mars, The Sounds, Rufus Wainwright, Ryan Adams and other terribly non-Parisian bands.

Today on the Metro on the way to class, a guy got in a few stops after me and sat down across from me with his easel case in tow. He was clearly an art student, judging from the tousled Charles Darnley-esque ponytail, careless scarf and velveteen blazer. Anyway, he sat down and pulled a paper bag out of his pocket, which evidently contained his breakfast. Though he tried to keep it contained in the bag, it didn't work, I saw it, and he was eating a chocolate sandwich for breakfast. Like, 2 pieces of sandwich bread with a bar of dark chocolate stuck between them. I think I fell in love. Hahahahaha.

Joyeux Noel,
B
P.S. The Marche aux Fruits down the street from me just put up Christmas trees for sale outside it. You have not lived until you have seen Parisian businessmen in 1000Euro Armani suits trying to haul a sapin de noel wrapped in netting into their 4th floor apartment. Or trying to strap it somehow to the back of their motorscooters. Trust me, life does not get better than this.