South of France

The South of France was surprisingly uneventful after packed days in Italy and Spain. It was nice though (hah)-going to the beach, visiting the markets, cooking at the apartments we rented, walking around a reading. A very calm way to end my spring break!

"Nuns Rock!"

My first nun contact, maybe ever, was in March in a secluded square home to a medieval seminary in Belgium. Last week, my nun-o-meter tingled again after I spotted a dark grey habit peak out of what was perhaps a Roman/Eastern European women's shelter, almost going off the charts when I stepped into a Metro car filled ENTIRELY with nuns. I don't really know why I think nuns are so awesome--maybe it reminds me of some Medieval time, where cities in Italy were overwrought with Dominican and Cistercian monks brewing beer and writing, which to me sounds like a great job, or maybe because the nun-culture I'm familiar with--strictly historical, that is--involves more women forced to become nuns than not, often running away with rogue ex-monk painters (the 1400s were scandalous, Fra Angelico!). Anyways, I was more than happy to get photo-bombed by this nun in Vatican City, and even more excited that they feature in a New York Times editorial today.

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/29/opinion/sunday/kristof-we-are-all-nuns.html?smid=FB-nytimes&WT.mc_id=SR-E-FB-SM-LIN-WAA-043012-NYT-NA&WT.mc_ev=click

Rome

Last week, I was planning on spending my day alone in Rome, after my mom left obscenely early but before my own evening flight to the south of France, working on the 15 page analysis of Cezanne’s later work that is due shortly after I return to Paris, a project that has been the quiet menace over my whole spring break. However, rather than sitting at a café and being productive in the Mediterranean sun, I decided to run around town alone (in the Mediterranean sun).  After breakfast, I walked up past the Pantheon, quickly because I had spent an hour there a few days before. I found one of my art history professor’s favorite gelato places that had eluded me on my last visit, though, and after perusing the really tempting flavors (Limoncello was exciting, but I was mostly curious about the Champagne flavor) I decided to keep walking and come back later because I was still so full from breakfast. I took a detour to the Templo Adriano, just because I saw it was on the map and it was nearby—I couldn’t go inside, but it was these amazing columnar ruins that had been entirely built around—like, the other side of your bathroom wall could be 2,000 years old. Then I made my way to the Ara Pacis, one of the museum/monument combos that I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss (I was deciding between that and the Borghese Gallery on my solo day, but I figure I get enough of those old masters at the Louvre). The Ara Pacis was amazing. The building itself is really modern/Mondrian looking, all white and glass, but it makes a really marvelous setting for the temple—the inside is marble and filled with light. And, the museum is so cool, it actually explains the space, why it’s there, and why people are ambivalent about it. Then, I was looking for a cute spot to eat nearby and saw there was a church that is supposed to be filled with paintings by artists that I studied last semester, so I figured I’d check it out. I walked across to the Popolo square which you can literally see from the Ara Pacis, and which is home to not one, not two, but three different churches. After a few minutes of map reading, I walked towards the one I thought was right, opened the door, and was in the sacristy. Ooops. Then there was some side museum with some stuff about Da Vinci, then a lot of stairs that led to a nun’s house, then another side museum where I finally got the courage to ask where the afkwehsr2o3ik door actually was and the looked at me like I was totally crazy….it was right next to it. Whatever there was also a French family following me like I knew where I was going. So, after like 10 minutes of looking for this door, I (and the family) walked in…to Sunday morning mass! Oops again. I just followed suit of the other tourists in the church, who I thought were praying at first but then I realized they were just focusing their cameras really, really intently on the chapel painting. It ended up being pretty cool, but the work that was the biggest draw to the church was under construction (?) so I couldn’t really see anything. Then I grabbed some gelato, pistachio because a) I wanted a classic to see if it would actually be better b) I don’t even really like pistachio, so if I did at this place I knew it would be good c) my guidebook made a big deal about how they are special Sicilian pistachios (oh yeah, I’ve also grown out of guidebook-shame. Whatever, maps help and so do recommendations!). I can never (in the maybe 4 times I've had it) really tell the difference between gelato and ice cream, and maybe the only technical difference is that one is made in italy, but this was like they chopped up a thousand pistachios and then made them sugary and icy. So delicious!

Barcelona

-Patatas Bravas have stolen my heart from frites forever
-They call grilled cheese sandwiches "Bikinis"
-Churros are not that good
-Gaudi is awesome, the Parc Guell was one of my favorite things here, and our apartment is literally right across from the Sagrada Familia--best thing to see first thing in the morning!
-The Joan Miro Museum was one of the coolest museums I have ever been to
-Cava tour and tasting beats cheese or ice cream factory tasting any day, and I loved the Spanish countryside even more than the city (surprise!)
-There are these crazy explosions that sound like a firecracker or cannon going off every night? No one seems to react to them...they are just weird? What is that?
-I saw the Mediterranean for the first time since I was like 2 years old on a really nice bike ride

And now we're off to Rome!

What I've learned this week

-Smoke detectors are a formality. Apparently, my apartment was nearly in flames on Monday after my host mother forgot about some food for her dog (?) that she left on the stove, and black smoke went all the way up to the 6th floor (we're on the first). It smelled horrible all night! But it was really funny when Madame offered my roommate Audrey the leftovers: "OH-DRAY WOOD YOU LAYK SOME MEEEEET?" while waving the charred remnants at her.
-Spice exists! I got a really great banh-mi sandwich after class today at the Pompidou and it was actually spicy! And across the street was an ACTUAL bagel shop (it was really a shop of all things "American," complete with Jack Daniel's Steak Sauce, Twizzlers (only the pull and peel kind), Reese's peanut butter cups, and Peanut Butter! Except there was only creamy, and for a small jar...still about $10. I can't stoop that low, even though all I want most of the time is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Nutella is just really too sweet some times (most times).

Home

Maybe my exclusive and abundant consumption of cheese has made me sentimental, or maybe I'm just sad that I missed Beer Bike yesterday, but I've decided to break a promise that I made to myself when I started writing a blog: not to write a "What I miss about America" post. But it's April, and I only have (have only?) 6 weeks left in Paris. It has been magical, but here are some things that I'm looking forward to in the next month and a half:

-Bathrooms: Besides the weird non-showers (I feel like I haven't been really, thoroughly clean since I've arrived in France), one of the great things about being in the UK was remembering the glory of gender specific bathrooms, toilets that actually have seats, and copious amounts of WHITE toilet paper, none of this pink nonsense.

-Jogging: Yeah, I jog here, but I think I'm one in a team of maybe 10 (American) women that exercise in Paris. It feels really weird to live in a place where it's not socially normal to run, but billboards and TV ads often include people in the nude.

-Shiva, the Teahouse, Tacos-A-Go-Go, Istanbul Grill. Spiciness.

Here are some small things I'm really going to miss:

-Really cheap wine, available on every single corner

-Pain au chocolate and baguettes: they just don't get that flaky crust right in the US

Right in front of my door!

-Tulips and daffodils

Annecy/Talloires

This weekend was the University trip to Annecy and Talloires in the Alps, which were beautiful:

But the real subject of the trip was the cheese:

I'm not really sure who had the idea to take us on a cheese tour with 9 different cheeses, then have fondue, then go to bed and wake up for a 9am cheese tasting on another mountain, but it was basically cheese overload. It was really good cheese (I really liked the green herby goat cheese in the picture with lots of samples), but I feel I need to be vegan for a little while. Apparently the Haute-Savoy and Rhone-des-Alps regions (where we were) are famous for this kind of cheese called Reblochon (on the salad, the plate with the patterned edge, and the sample plate) that isn't legal in the US because it isn't pasteurized. It was really good (and kind of stinky), and I'm really glad we got to have so much of it in the last 48 hours, but I think I'm good on the Reblochon front until the next time I come back to France.

Still Here

...although here is relative. I think since I've posted last, I've been in Glasgow, Edinburgh, Annecy, and Talloires! I have a lot to say about all of these places (and a lot of work to procrastinate) but here are some tidbits that get the ideas across.

Scotland:

Scotland was marvelous and confusing. It was wonderful to be somewhere where the loveliest of all languages is spoken, even if it's almost completely incomprehensible, and where "h"s are actually pronounced. I tried haggis and actually liked it (I went from vegetarian, which is lentils and rice and yummy delightful things cooked in haggis spices, to haggis spread on a sandwich, to real haggis at breakfast), which I think means I really belong there! The Castle Rock hostel was awesome and everyone staying there was really friendly. Actually everyone we met seemed to be really friendly! People kept stopping us and asking if we needed directions somewhere, which would never happen in Paris. When I'm in Paris, I never think people are rude at all, but it's funny being in another place where people are go out of their way to actively be nice to you. Also, people dress differently: in Paris, everyone looks nice and chic and whatever, but pretty much wear all the same things. In Scotland, people were much more adventurous with their clothing (tropical prints galore! In Paris, people are still wearing overcoats and its 70 degrees!) and the women weren't all anorexically thin (and people were EXERCISING! Fancy that! I have a lot of opinions about this, more later) and it was refreshing to see a change from the Parisian homogeneity. Olivia and I had great indian food, visited the castle, hung out at some places where J.K. Rowling is rumored to have written HARRY POTTER, and had a really fantastic time!

Maps and Chairs

One of the things I've discovered that I really love doing here is going for runs. Don't get me wrong: I've never been an exercise junkie -- in fact, until my freshman year of college, I was fundamentally opposed to sweating. But after a few too many baguettes and croissants, I am more than motivated to pull on my brand new sneakers, which I had imported from America in my boyfriend's carry on--running shoes for women (or actually running) don't seem to exist in Paris. Anyway, I've found that going for runs in my neighborhood is way less painful than in America, which is actually kind of surprising. My neighborhood is really not very exciting: it's completely residential, and it's hard even to find a grocery store that is open after 8 p.m. I think the most exciting thing I've seen on my street is a plaque that the President of the Republic in the '40s lived in one of the buildings. But one of the things I've learned about myself living in Paris is that I'm not very good of letting go of my maps; even on days that I set aside to just wander, I always kind of need to know where I am. Even when I went to the Louvre for the first time, I felt like my eyes were constantly flicking towards my floorplan to make sure I was heading towards the Flemish painters (which I never actually got to see) and missed entire rooms of Poussins (whatever, Poussin). When I go running (or at least the grand 4 times I've been running), I'm forced to go mapless, and even though I know basically where I am--one song past the park, one song closer to school than home -- it's easy to accidentally turn down a really long or short street, a dead end or one that suddenly pops out right next to my building. It's kind of freeing -- and scary -- to not know where I am, even if I am just a few blocks from home.

In other news, I've developed a new annoyance, which may not come as a surprise: the uncouth museum-goer. I'm not even talking about the superficial glances and tacky photos people take of the Mona Lisa. I'm talking about the just post-middle-aged lady who got a little too friendly with the Degas at the D'Orsay on Tuesday. You know how there's usually a space between the painting and the viewer, that sometimes its OK to cross (sometimes you really need to see something close!) as long as you aren't blocking anyone else...? Well it seems like people usually respect this (sacred!!) tradition of not walking completely in front of someone who was looking at the painting first, and not only did this woman park right in front of me (and other people!) more than once, she was carrying one of those fold-up lawn chairs you'd take to a kid's soccer game and, after walking in front of like 10 people (like, as close to the works as you can get without touching them), she'd just unfold and...sit. For probably not even one minute before she packed up. Even coming from someone who is a total proponent of close-looking, this was excessive. But really, not even she could really ruin such a wonderful exhibition. Degas wins again.

It's been awhile!

A quick post to recap the last two poorly documented weeks, I'll stick to my favorites:

-Today, a senior citizen sat next to me on the metro, and we were wearing the SAME identical skirt! Definitely a vintage win (or maybe I should rethink my wardrobe...at least she wasn't wearing a shirt with Karl Lagerfeld's face on it like I was).

-Saturday, Eric and I got some great cheese and bread (our favorite was fig bread with a little bit of rhubarb confiture and gruyere, but I really liked the cheese covered in herbs too!) and had a picnic in the Tuileries Gardens, which have DANDELIONS and PANSIES now! Also, we waited in a long line of very aggressive French hipsters (two of whom were marginally famous bloggers that I stalk follow regularly) for the Colette birthday Carnival extravaganza, where we hung out trying to hand-toss our way to as much free chocolate and t-shirts as we could. It was weird but really fun!

-Also, on the first sunny day in what feels like months, drinking a bottle of 3euro wine in the Luxembourg Gardens was pretty amazing.

-I got chastised by a monk and chased down the street by a waiter, all in one day! OK, here's what really happened: The whole week was cold and rainy, and after a crepe (or three...) Eric and I walked to Notre Dame, and I got soaked! I was really excited to get back on the train to get home, and started crossing the street even though the red "Don't walk!" man was still lit, and a monk yelled "Attention!" and stuck his arm out at me. But that still counts...The other thing was just that I left my umbrella in the restaurant, but the waiter definitely did chase me halfway down the street to return it!

-The best thing about Belgium, besides of course the beautiful canals and picturesque medieval whatnot, was by far the waffles. I really want to learn how to make them--they are unlike anything I've ever had before, flaky but not like a pastry, sweet but not syrupy. It's so strange how even though it was only an hour and a half away (on the slow train with a transfer, no less), that waffle thing hasn't made the jump over here. The frites were ok in Belgium, but I haven't found anything that surpasses Pommes Frites in New York...yet.

I was feeling guilty for not writing, so now that that's done, I can keep up with my normal pace! Today, I went to the Centre Pompidou (I feel like I'm there every week, and I am definitively OK with that) to see the new Matisse exhibition as well as 2 others that are up now that I hadn't seen yet. The Matisse show was amazing! They showed pairs of his paintings that he was working on at the same time, and it's really incredible to see how absolutely different they are.Then I walked to the Seine and read my book in the sunshine and it was lovely--hard to focus though! I've been asked a lot lately what I like most, or what I'll miss most about Paris (especially since my time here is halfway over!) and it might seem superficial, but I really think it's just how beautiful everything is. Everything is just so deliberate and lovely, and with this sunshine and the whole dandelion/tulip budding thing happening, I have a good feeling about the rest of the spring!

Italy

I just got back from Italy yesterday, and I don't even know where to start!

Maybe here, at the beginning:

Or here, at the end:

But it really seems more appropriate to start in the middle:

because eating was mostly all I did, and well! I much preferred the food in Florence to the food in Paris, even if the pastries were sad. The CHEESE! The PROSCIUTTO! The bread was weird though, kind of tough and dry everywhere we went. Either way, it was really great to get out of the city and see another one...in another country! It's so weird how easy it was to get to, too (even though to get home, I had to take a train to a plane to a bus to the metro, that was a long day). It was great to see pretty much all of the art I studied last semester though, it really changed my perspective on some of the work. My favorite part, though (besides the food) was just walking around, getting outside of the already tourist heavy center, across the Arno to some of the more authentic parts of town.

Madame

I've realized I haven't told you much about my home stay, and there really is so much to tell, so I think my next few posts will feature some of the lovely characters with whom I cohabitate.

First up: My host mother, Madame Raynaud.

Madame Raynaud loves her 3 year old cocker spaniel, Edgar, but hates her grandkids' dog, Jedi (no, that's not a common French name--they love Star Wars). But you'll hear more about Edgar later.

Madame Raynaud runs a childcare out of her house with (I think) two other women who are sometimes here: one woman is very chatty and nice, but smokes inside (I've only seen her twice), and one who is very mean and kind of racist, and never says bonjour to me. They are usually only here when Madame goes to pick up the older kids from school (the babies are here all day) and when she goes to the grocery store. In my head, those are the only two places Madame ever goes when she leaves the house--I don't think she ever leaves the 16eme, which is basically only a residential neighborhood.

I think Madame Raynaud doesn't think I'm very smart. She is always telling Audrey, my roommate, how well she speaks and how much she understands in French, but all she ever says to me is "Where is your scarf! You are going to get sick! Go put on a scarf, why do you never wear one?!" Or "Tres Belle!" whenever I wear a skirt, or like last night, my silver shiny jeans. So Audrey is smart, and I wear pretty clothes, and not enough of them. According to Audrey, last week, Madame Raynaud said that I understood a lot and Audrey was excited for me--this of course was news to me, because I either DID NOT UNDERSTAND that she said I UNDERSTOOD THINGS, or I just wasn't listening, which is great.

Edit: I had this post up on my computer ready to post, but something has changed! I just had one of my two weekly meals with Madame, and she said I spoke much better than I used to! She didn't compliment my skirt, though. I guess I've graduated from "belle" to "intelligente."

I feel like I have so much to talk about! Here are some of the highlights:

-Today was a DOUBLE CREPE DAY! Spinach, tomato, onion, and mushroom for dinner, sugar and lemon (my favorite) for dessert

-Yesterday I went to the Musee D'Orsay for a paper (that I worked on today and WILL FINISH THIS WEEKEND). I brought my new small notebook, but of course I had no pen! I asked one of the guys at what I realized was a gift shop, not an info desk, if I could borrow a pen, just a regular one--in french! And I'm pretty sure it was nearly grammatically correct because when he snidely responded in English, he asked how long I wanted it for. When I said 30 minutes, he said I needed to buy one! So I sadly picked up a Valentines Day/Edgar Degas themed 2 euro pen and walked towards the check out table, another guy who worked there ran over and offered me the pen from his pocket! I made sure to thank the first guy on my way to the Impressionists, and he said "Forgive me, I was being a beast to you with no manners."

-I have trips planned to Florence next weekend, and Belgium the weekend after! I'm so excited to head out of town--not that I don't love Paris, but it's kind of stressful. It will be fun to see something else, it's kind of why I came here.

Another fashion update

1. I got not one, not two, but three different compliments on the sweater (the brownish one) that I knitted! Just today!

2. My photo professor, who is British, was wearing a tangerine colored button down that clashed nicely with his dark red tie, which also had a repeating Wallace & Gromit print on it. Halfway through class I noticed his socks matched, except with a bigger icon.

He says phrases like "And Bob's your uncle!" when things go well.

Rain

When I walked out of my apartment today, the ground was wet like it rained last night, or at least like the snow had melted. I've never been so happy to say the word melt!! Especially since this weekend was strangely dusty (my boots are covered, and even the snow wasn't even grey/sludgey it was this gritty dust color) everything seemed so clean and new even though it's still grey skies.

When the streets are clean in Paris, it's a big deal. For some reason, no one cleans up after their dogs here; my class asked my French professor about it on the first week of school, and I'm pretty sure he said something like "It's like Italy sometimes, people don't care about rules." And it's true--red lights are hardly even a suggestion here. Every morning on our walk to school, my roommate and I are constantly telling each other to watch where we walk, usually in time to avoid disaster but sometimes an unfortunate second too late (for me, at least). The snow, though, was funnier: Last week, also on a morning walk to school, I saw a group of kids coming towards me, and it was like a movie. I saw the dog poop. I saw a girl, maybe 7 years old, laughing, oblivious of what was inevitably going to happen. I saw her pink shoes, aiming directly towards their target. But as she approached and stepped right on the pile, nothing happened. She kept laughing and walking, and even weirder, the poop kept the same...shape. No footprint or horrible squelch noise or anything. And then I realized: IT HAD FROZEN SOLID TO THE SIDEWALK.

So, I am happy for rain.

"What's said in an art museum should never be taken seriously."

I love the Musee L'Orangerie! I didn't know much about it before I went on Saturday, except that it was built for Monet's "Nymphaeas" and that he never actually got to see them in situ. It was so peaceful and lovely, and bigger than I thought it would be. The bottom floor also had artists that I had never heard of before (I especially liked one called Maurice Utrillo) and Picasso etchings that looked so far from anything I'd ever seen--really early stuff. It was great! I will definitely be dragging anyone who comes to visit me there!

Afterwards, I had a lovely French lunch in St. Germain (the best quiche lorraine I've ever had, but I was also cold and it was hot). Then Olivia and I headed out towards St. Germaine to walk around and try to find one of the famous (Laduree) macaron places, but we were sidetracked by a giant parade-style protest! We couldn't tell what they were mad about or trying to change, but their posters proclaimed that they were vegan...very angry vegans...so our walk was basically just trying to avoid them. We ended up at Pierre Herme, a different famous macaron place (famous for weird flavors, like fois gras!) I got three flavors: salted caramel, rose and raspberry, and creme brulee (vanilla and caramel). Rose was my favorite. It was lovely eating them on the steps of the Saint Sulpice* in the last of the day's sunlight. The fountain is frozen over, and there were kids climbing onto it and slipping around...it was lovely.

Then, Olivia and I went back to her homestay (her family is just lovely!) and decided to make soup for dinner (the kids and her friend from Cooper Union were joining us). We decided on Butternut squash soup, because that sounded warm and delicious, and also because she SWORE by this apple and squash soup recipe from MarthaStewart.com (hm). I carefully google translated all of the different vegetables and spices we would need, and we headed to the local Monoprix. The weird thing was, there was squash and it had the same name as what I had written down, but it wasn't butternut. We went for it anyway, but we had to go to another market for onions (where of course, they had butternut squash!). Also, halfway through cooking we realized 1) we had a lot more ingredients than the recipe called for and 2) we had a lot more people coming than we expected, so we decided to forgo proportions and just mix up everything we purchased, putting spices in last.

Remind me not to do that again.

Not that it was bad, it just tasted like water when we tried it! I had to tell Olivia that we didn't even have ANY salt in this whole VAT of soup, so we'd need a ton, but she was upset that it didn't taste butternutty. It turns out, there was actually a different recipe she followed before, so that's why it tasted different (besides the whole mystery squash ordeal). We experimented a bit and added more things as we immersion-blended, and finally after a good dose of (homemade from the tree!) olive oil and creme fraiche, it tasted great! Soup + some salad + a teensy bit of veal +oranges with cinnamon sprinkled on top = a fantastic (healthy) dinner! The kids were teenagers and really nice too.

The next day, the three of us went to the Musee D'Orsay just for about an hour, and I got to see the simply amazing collection of Toulouse-Lautrec work. His drawings are just so cool--and is it bad that I want all of the can-can dancers outfits? There were also the REALLY cool diorama things? You look through a small window into these impossibly intricate little worlds, forests and shipping ports and more abstract things. Really incredible. Then a glass of wine in the 6th at a place called La Palette, which had these funny old mirrors, 1920s style mosaics, and then oil paintings all over. Fun weekend!

*Have I mentioned how much I love the Saint Sulpice? So much! My embarrassing admission is that I just started reading the Da Vinci Code again, even though one of my professors just bashed it for being so geographically (and historically, I assume) incorrect. It takes place in the church! But I am too ashamed to carry it around.

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while—I was sick last weekend, and had to miss NYU’s free trip to the Abbey of Royaumont (or something), skipping the delicious-sounding 4 course meal (and 20F outdoor tour, yikes!) to instead watch Downton Abbey. I think my (warm, snuggly, out of the snow) Abbey won.

Despite a kind of wasted last weekend, I’ve had a VERY cultural week!

On Monday and Tuesday I was still taking it easy (I was still kind of sick), but on Wednesday I had a busy day! I had to wake up really early because my French class was going to a French high school (actually a performing arts (except with sports?) high school…the pink hair was familiar) to speak with French kids in French. Next time, we’ll talk in English to help with their English, and alternate a few times. Anyway it was OK, but not helpful enough that it was worth getting up an hour and a half early for. Then my art history class was at the Musee D’Orsay, which was great because I hadn’t been their yet! We saw a good amount of the museum, starting with Millet, and working our way through Courbet and Manet, and then up to the Impressionist floor for Monet and Renoir. It was a great class—I really didn’t know anything about Impressionism—but the professor didn’t give us a break during the three hour class, so I was ready to go when we left. After a quick nap, I went with my roommate to see Egisto at the Opera Comique (We were allowed to pick one of a selection of operas and ballets through my program, and I chose a ballet at the Opera Garnier, the famously beautiful Opera here. They had extra tickets to Egisto, though, so I took one!). I had never been to an Opera before, but many of my professors have worked at the Houston Grand Opera, so I’ve seen a lot of the work that goes into the AMAZING costumes and sets and over the top everything, but I got worried after I realized that the songs would be in Italian with French over-titles. Two hours and forty five minutes of gargley elegiac poetry sung in two languages I don’t speak….yay. Actually though, I wasn’t bored at all! I could follow the show enough to know when they were singing about how beautiful the moon/some flowers/someone’s eyes were, and I read that the show was a bit like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, so I could sort of tell what was going on. I found it was better to just watch the show though. It was really beautiful, but weirdly they decided to set the show entirely at night…so it was really dark the whole time? Like only 20% light. Very unusual.

Yesterday before class I went to the Louvre and did most of the Richelieu wing, which is apparently the least popular part of the museum. It was totally empty, I was lucky. I spent a long time, though, looking for the Vermeers, but I think that part of the museum was sealed off by a metal garage door looking thing? It was disappointing, but I did see some great works, and then went back today for the Egyptian wing and Italian paintings. It’s hard not to get frustrated by the crowds in the Louvre (today it was mostly school groups), but what I really don’t understand is how oblivious people are—SO many people just ran straight into me! And they were just taking photos of random paintings; it wasn’t like they were transfixed by anything.

More exciting, though, have been my adventures in eating: last night I had fondue at this really funny place! The place was so teeny, I had to walk over the table to my chair! It was a very French menu, with kir, crudités, wine (served…unusually), and then a GIANT VAT OF MELTED CHEESE! It was great!

Today I had a great falafel from the Marais, and then got tea with Rachel at an adorable tea house with AMAZING desserts. It was legit tea too—they gave us a pot with loose leaves, and we had a special strainer to catch the leaves. And, of course, there were sugar cubes (white and brown!). We split a tarte citron…

The plan for tomorrow is Musee L’Orangerie, Shakespeare and Co., and Laduree. You know how I am about plans though—we’ll see what actually happens!

Something new and exciting in yogurt:

Yes, that's a rhubarb. And after a successful foray into the pamplemousse flavored yog, I'm very excited.

Also, Speculoos (among other grocery purchases):

Speculoos is like a melted graham cracker with a slightly strange toothpaste-like consistency, and on top of LU butter cookies, it is AMAZING.

I thought the sun was supposed to make the earth warm, but today when I left my house it was sunny and 23F. Ugh.

Feast

I just finished reading The Family Fang (I liked it), so I was looking around my bookshelf yesterday for something else. I found an old copy of Hemingway's A Moveable Feast and, after reading about a quarter of it, decided I would have a Hemingway day today. After class, I came home for a bit and then went to St. Germain des Pres, and after about an hour of walking through Montparnasse I decided to get a cafe creme at Cafe de Flore, which is right across the street from Lipp's Brasserie, which is where Hemingway was eating in the chapter I was reading. I picked Cafe de Flore because a) I don't think Lipp was actually open at the time I was there, b) de Flore is supposed to be less touristy, and c) one time Carine Roitfeld (the old EIC of Vogue) was interviewed there one time so it must be cool still. This was mostly true — everyone around me was speaking French except for one table of Italians, who left and were replaced by more Italians (apparently French people hate Italian tourists even more than Americans: one of my friends was called an “Italian beast” (loosely translated) last week). Anyway, it might have been cliché to go to Hemingway’s hood and drink his (daytime) beverage of choice AND read his book all at the same time, but that’s the kind of thing I like to do so I didn’t care. It was also good people watching.

After I was there for maybe an hour, I walked to the Saint-Sulpice, which I think is the most beautiful square I’ve seen so far. Everything is quieter and it’s all a lovely beige marble, and I love that the church is so grand but isn’t even finished yet (they only started working on it in 1646!!!). In Feast, Hemingway likes to go to this square because it’s the only place nearby that doesn’t smell like food, so he can go and not feel starving (note: he also says it’s best to go to museums on an empty stomach because you perceive things differently. I’ll try it…but usually I can’t perceive anything when I’m hungry). Anyway, I went from there to the Luxembourg Gardens, which is/are pretty barren, obviously. The grass there is still way better than Houston’s grass is any time of the year though, so take that, Texas. Also, the trees are still perfectly manicured even though there isn’t a single leaf on the grounds. I was having this really lovely, kind of imaginary day until (of course it was ruined) I started walking back toward the street and there was a homeless man zipping up his pants — gross! I felt like I was back in New York. You can’t PEE in the LUXEMBOURG GARDENS. I wish 20^th century writers (and artists, for that matter) didn’t leave that kind of crass stuff out (or even annoying stuff, like where tourists went to (or maybe they kind of were tourists?) or whatever the 1920s version of I don’t know, McDonalds or Lebanese food stands (but maybe that’s what they were eating because they were poor? No, they only ate oysters…)). I am a young and impressionable reader! Hemingway is always talking about truth, and starting his stories with one honest sentence—so where are the park pee-ers?

Although now that I think about it, Hemingway didn't have a working toilet in his house...

Nice Things Are Nice

This weekend, I learned how great fancy things are. On Friday, I went for a long(ish) walk; here’s the map:

So you can see that I stayed relatively close to the river, all on the right bank of the Seine, walking through the 16^th, 8^th, 2^nd, and 1^st arrondissements. I thought that I didn’t know anything about the 8^th arrondissement, until I walked down Ave. Montaigne (which I didn't know until I googled it later), which is apparently just off of the Champs Elysees. Of course, I had no clue of this at the time, and once I realized it I remembered what someone told my orientation group: “Don’t go down the streets next to the Champs Elysees, they are very fancy and will look at you like you are dirty and will lock their doors and close their blinds when they see you because you are not one of them.” Ave. Montaigne is lined with Prada and Chloe and Versace flagship stores, and almost no one was around but the few people I encountered were ALL wearing heels and ALL wearing huge sunglasses, so they were probably famous and made me feel like I needed to leave immediately. BUT this isn’t the point of the story.

Later that day I went down rue Saint-Honore (on purpose this time), another famous shopping street, to go into Colette, which is a famous store (I don’t even know how it’s famous. You just always see Colette Paris in magazines and blogs and things. They have super hip clients and parties, I don’t know). Anyway, it’s this famous store that was totally packed with people who were definitely NOT buying any of the fancy computerized watches or kitschy Japanese toys that don’t do anything, just ogling each pair of sunglasses, which are displayed like art in plexi-glass cases. So are the bracelets — everything is perfectly spaced and every background is perfectly, clinically white. Upstairs was BEAUTIFUL, with all kinds of mannequins in these lovely printed dresses (which were by a designer I’ve never heard of: Mary Katrantzou?) and lovely/expensive resort collections, like the Celine one with all the floral print. I was looking at a printed leather vest (nothing has price tags also, it was that kind of store) but then what I thought was a mannequin moved (it was a man in a giant black coat, I don’t know what my periphery was thinking) and it really scared me and I kind of screamed a little bit, and I was embarrassed so I left.

Then the next day I was in the Marais, looking for what ended up being a really awesome bookstore all about fashion photography (they had every edition of Vogue ever), and my friend saw this crazy, contemporary art laden store down a private street. The store, L’Eclairieur, was the inverse of Colette: it was like being in a grotto covered in bizarre sculpture, dark and cool, but also packed with the same ultra-expensive clothing. Here, is the point to the story: I was so scared to touch anything because there was NOTHING IN THE STORE FOR LESS THAN 1000 EUROS. But then my friend Rachel was like, “Who cares,” so I reached for the nearest dress and it was Givenchy and Givenchy designed the dresses in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I realized I had never touched one before and there really was nothing like it. It was black and so precisely designed, the fabric so gorgeously draped. So then I kept touching the clothes, like a Balenciaga leather jacket that probably cost what my rent is the whole time I'm in Paris, and it was wonderful. I didn’t get kicked out of the store.

Ok so I have a few posts planned (one about the French plumbing system, by request, and one about my walk yesterday) but I just wanted to post a quick one:

Yesterday I was on the train home from a friend's house, and since it was after midnight it was filled with drunk people. The trains in Paris close really early, I learned last week after having to take a cab from the Bastille to the 16th (maybe a 25min drive), so it gets a lot of use in its last hour. Besides the people taking pulls from the bottle of whisky (or rum? French rum?) out in the open, there was a group of heavily made up girls taking (attempting to take) photos of each other. One of them dropped her camera and it slid all the way to where I was standing, so I picked it up and gave it to her, eliciting a loud "May-re see bow koop" from it's owner. Ha!

I laughed especially since earlier that day, I was sitting across from a woman on the train, who, after the train went over a bump and my toe just barely tapped the top of her boot, not only turned her feet to the side and gave me a dirty look, but actually took out a tissue and wiped the spot where our boots collided. WE WERE WEARING THE SAME BOOTS.

Cette Vie Francaise

So one of my favorite things about America is the podcast This American Life, which I won't talk too much about, because if you don't know what it is you should really check it out. I listen to this radio show all the time because I like working with people talking around me -- even if I'm not completely paying attention, it's nice to hear. Anyway, I pulled my iPod out on the train today, and I felt so weird listening to it because it's been so long since I've heard English being spoken around me, not just by someone talking to me. Too bad there isn't a This French Life, because they talk really slowly sometimes and I would maybe be able to actually understand it.

Tomorrow is the last day of my French intensive course, which is awesome but also scary, because I can't believe I've already been here for more than 2 weeks. It feels like it's been 4 days. I feel like I haven’t even done anything yet!

It is cold and rainy here -- I've realized that I've always thought of myself as a cold weather person (partly because one time, in San Francisco, an older woman was so impressed that I was wearing a t-shirt in what was maybe 55 degree F weather, and she was wearing a parka. Don’t know why that stuck). It turns out, more than 7 days of (actually) cold weather kind of sucks! How can I expect to make friends if I have to hide all of my cute outfits behind a big black coat?? That was another big mistake: I should have brought another coat or something, I’m so bored of mine already. Maybe it’s time to invest in a leather jacket? Hmm…

List

People keep asking me what I've been doing so here's a list of what I thought I was going to do and what I did instead:

-Today, my plan was to go get falafel in the Marais and then go to the Louvre (it's open late on Weds.) with some friends from school. Instead, I walked around the Marais all afternoon with an old friend, and catching up was wonderful. We hopped into some great book stores (on art book store had some David Shrigleys), some designy stores, some clothing stores, one very hip children’s hair cut place. The Marais is awesome. Then we just wandered around the third, and ended up at my favorite-the Pompidou! It was just getting quiet as we got there, so we did one floor and then left because I need to study.

-Yesterday I was going to go to the D’Orsay, but I actually walked around the 6th with a prof from NYU and got to see where Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Gertrude Stein hung out. I was all over that--the rain only made it seem more romantic.

-The day before I was going to go to the Pompidou. Instead, I walked along the seine with some friends, and wandered across to the 7th, walked under the Eiffel Tower. Also raining.

-Sunday I was going to go to brunch in Montmartre, but instead I wandered around I don't know where with a group from school. We ended up at Angelina's and got hot chocolate and pastries...and ate them in the Tuileries.

-Saturday I was going to go to the Catacombs. Instead I went to Chantilly, and it was awesome! There’s a huge chateau there (it’s where the Duc de Berry’s illuminated manuscripts are). Chantillians (?) are really into animals I guess, because the horse stables were as big as the chateau and there were statues of dogs everywhere. There was also a few bad things, like 2 lion skins...yuck.

Ok so written down that looks like a lot. You can see I have lots of grand ideas that don’t end up happening. It’s ok. I’ll make it to the Louvre eventually.

Lost in Montmartre

I meant to post this on Wednesday…

As part of my rather feeble preparation for my semester here, I read Matt Gross’ recent article “Lost in Paris” ((http://travel.nytimes.com/2011/10/09/travel/lost-in-paris.html?pagewanted=1) and found it particularly exciting—the prospect of finding new incarnations of Paris after years seems so beautiful. One of the things Gross “rediscovered” in Paris in this article was Montmartre, the quarter with mega tourist attractions like the Moulin Rouge, the Sacre Coeur, and it’s where the movie Amelie was filmed. Gross’ descriptions of the wonderful, peaceful side to the sometimes gaudy neighborhood sounded amazing, so I was happy to find that an NYU professor was giving a “ghost tour” of the neighborhood and that some of my friends wanted to go.

I had a meeting with a different professor when the tour began to start, but since I was in a nearby area a few days before, I didn’t think I’d have a problem taking the metro alone and meeting up with the group a bit late--and if I didn’t find them, there are a ton of cute cafes I wouldn’t have minded hanging out in. But when I got off the metro, a friend said they were in the cemetery, the very location that Gross mentioned in his article as being one of the forgotten, lovely spots tourists sometimes miss (I guess the first choice cemetery is Père Lachaise, where Jim Morrison is buried, probably). I was excited to join the group, and I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find.

I was wrong.

Usually I’m pretty good at following a map, but one of the things about Paris is street signs are hard to find if they are marked at all. Wandering onto a random side street (I thought it was the Blvd. Place de Clichy?), I was wary of even opening my map because I was already getting weird looks from the groups of youngish guys standing around. I had forgotten what the Moulin Rouge, you know, actually was, and maybe I just looked out of place (do French women not chew gum?). But the street was pretty deserted, and what I thought was the cemetery gate was just the gate to a really depressing looking mansion. It was stressful. So I turned around, started following an assertive-looking lady, trying to look equally as assertive, and finally found a sign to the cemetery and followed it.

As I walked into the cemetery, famous for housing the remains of Alexandre Dumas and a lot of other people I’ve never heard of, I realized this was the first time I had really walked around the city alone. One of the things I had expected in Paris was to be spending some time alone exploring, before I made friends to join me, but that just hasn’t been the case at all. Walking into the cemetery alone was weird (even weirder were the crow’s calls, which I haven’t heard anywhere else in Paris and felt deliberately spaced like in a Hitchcock movie, and the black cat that I saw just after walking in), but it was also kind if great; I’m not sure if there is a better feeling than finding something that you were looking for by yourself, even when something is an overlooked cemetery filled with geniuses. It’s also great to finally meet up with the group just in time to follow them to other dead geniuses’ (Vincent van Gogh and Toulouse Lautrec) old, beautiful apartments.

My day involved mimes

Like a few of my friends have warned me, the biggest change moving to France is the language—seeing signs and hearing chatter in a language I can’t understand is kind of alienating, but also kind of hilarious (rapid French really does sound like gibberish). Here are some other unusual things I’ve noticed in Paris that are going to take some getting used to:

1.. People use actual scooters, like Razors, functionally. Like to get to work, or to get home after a drink. Seriously.

2. Mimes are real, and they sometimes wear blue lipstick.

3. Policemen by the Louvre wear roller blades…to catch the art bandits faster?

4. Seeing the Eiffel Tower on my walk to school, although I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.

5.This whole European handheld shower thing. That's going to take some time.

Time for Paris

A brief introduction: After spending the last three (two? four?) days adjusting to the 7 hour time difference between Texas and France, I finally feel like something comparatively human! I am also getting tired of sending the same emails out over and over again, so I’ve decided to just dump everything (most things) here. Also, I’ve decided not to think about what I’m writing too much, since I’ve been suffering blog-paralysis for the last few days fretting over what to call this—if you have any suggestions, I’m open to them (I thought of a really good one and forgot it yesterday). Anyway, I decided to just start writing.

I was going to start this blog recounting the biblical floods in Houston on Monday that very nearly kept me from getting to my flight on time (but didn’t), or trying to navigate Charles de Gaulle jetlagged with a giant suitcase I couldn’t even lift. And then I thought about beginning with an account of my completely disoriented, tired, confused, and lonely first few days in the youth (although there seemed to be a lot more adults/people having business conventions then youths) hostel I was staying at until yesterday, sharing a room with seven strangers girls, where the food was free but questionable (ravioli filled with brown, amaretto-tasting meat paste?). Or maybe I should have started with how my French, which usually shows up pretty quickly when I’m in a Francophone environment (it did in Montreal and Marrakech!!) HAS COMPLETELY DISAPPEARED, and I can kind of understand most things but completely cannot think about how to respond to anything, making for an even more uncomfortable week of awkward, freshmen-style orientation introductions—All I can say is, oui, bonjour, bonsoir, pardon, ca va. French, please stop hiding like a pansy, I need you! But I’d rather talk about the spontaneous tango dance-off I saw last night.

My lovely roommate, Audrey, invited me to have dinner at her equally lovely friend Maya’s house (near the bastille) last night, who cooked a delicious (and much needed after a few days of baguette and onion soup) veggie-filled dinner—salad, split pea soup, and roasted squash, yum! And the dinner was only enhanced by great company and a few great/cheap-by-US-standards bottles of wine. Anyways, after hanging out for a bit, one of the girls suggested we try out this bar (whose name was like Chupito’s or something, which made me think of Houston’s Chapultepec, classy).

Chupito’s is in Oberkampf, and is known for having 2.50 euro shots, like creative ones not just tequila or whatever. This is what is written on the wall, with a list of probably more than 250 titles (Bang, Cartoon, Amigos) that had absolutely no descriptions. It was probably the most crowded place I’ve ever been in my life, but after wrestling to the bar with a new friend, Rebecca, and of course not remembering any of the names, she shouted, “Boyscout?” Which turned out to involve lighting the bar on fire, roasting a marshmallow on a stick, and dipping it into the shot glass before taking it. It tasted kind of like s’mores and kind of like apple juice?

Anyway, we all wanted to get away from the crowd so we went into the closest place we could find, a pretty low-key place with a fiddler. Naturally, there being a fiddler, a dancer and her post-middle-aged partner, a stout, completely bald man in a Harley Davidson shirt, started dancing—ballroom dancing. Another (younger, much more attractive) couple then started to tango, prompting the fiddler to begin again for a full-on tango tournament (completely limited to these two couples, mind you). It seemed pretty clear who was going to win, until the older man picked up the dancer and began swinging her around and around. It was very impressive, but I left pretty early so that I could take the metro home/ not mess up my newly acquired time shift.

Here are some photos of my place:

Just kidding:

My host mother is really nice: she does our laundry, cooks for us dimanche et lundi (so I haven’t had her cooking yet, and just showed me how to make toast (?) and where the nutella was, so good start). Maybe she’ll let me take her dogs (Jedi and Edgar) for a walk this week (once I remember what the verb is for “to walk” is).

OK, so one fun night down! Today: the last of my orientation, a walking tour starting at Hotel de ville. We’ll see if any of the awkwardness has thawed. Hopefully this week, with my jetlag pretty much gone (although Eric just told me it takes 7 days to adjust to a 7 hour time change), I’ll be able to check my email without tearing up, even if it’s just a link to an Onion article from my mom, or stop checking my several countdowns until my friends and family come visit. I miss everyone!