Go America!

Well I had the opportunity to see a slightly different side of Paris last Thursday when walking around Les Halles in Paris. A slightly slummier area. I also recognized a penetration of American chains. Hordes of young parisians grasping venti paper cups of Starbucks coffee, groups of people, each with a medium pizza in hand from Pizza Hut, KFC's bland red sign lighting the street very much like the neon light from Kenny Roger's which blinds Kramer in Seinfeld. Are these lights blinding the French too? I remember reading rumors and seeing pictures of french people -- all skinny, all healthy, most of them living longer than the average American. It won't be long before we conquer France and then the rest of the world. MacDo's is a very popular restaurant here in Paris. They're visible at all the recognizable spots: Champs-Elysées, L'Opéra, Le Louvre, and many other notable destinations. Well don't worry America we'll get 'em. We'll succeed in fattening france and filling it with our restaurants empty of character and charm.

The City of Lights and The City of L'Amour

What a good couple of days I had this past weekend. I rented a bass for a couple from a small artisan shopped called Paris Contrebass and played music on Friday with a couple guys, Samuel and Zack. I discovered a room in Jacques house, which was his son's room before he moved out. In this room are nearly as many musical instruments as in a symphony. Mostly keyboards. There is fortunately a piano. We played the blues and tried out a little jazz and I hope to play some more later on. Friday night we wound up at a club called Le Pop In, which was populated by a finer quality of studyabroaders. Many were from England I believe. We danced to the rock music they played there until 1 or so and took the night bus home.

Saturday started off well and got better. Crêpes were my breakfast that morning. I went with Nutella, a smooth, delightful chocolately spread and a few slices of banana to attempt something healthy. It wasn't really, but it was tastey. After a few french pancakes I sped down the street to find Vanessa at the Gara St. Lazare, one of Paris's many train stations. She had come to Paris for Valentine's day. I waited in St. Lazare, painting my own impression of the dirty, oil-scented station, slightly more clean and clear than the series by Monet. Her train sizzled in with a few sparks jumping off the powerlines above. It's less romantic now than in the soot-filled days of Monet.

We checked into the grandiose (no, not really at all) Hôtel de Paris, directly across the street from Chez Jacques to drop off her things, then we hit the streets. I pointed out a lot of my favorite places around town, like the Café au petit poucet and a couple boulangeries. We strolled through the pleasant Parc Monceau. We passed by the Grand Palais, over the Pont Alexandre III, slid alongside Les Invalides, and stared, with enjoyment, for a few long minutes at the Eiffel Tower in the Champs de Mars.

We watched a young charlatan try to fool unknowing tourists with a little slight of hand and a ring he pretends to find on the ground in front of you. I can't really imagine how it would fool someone or how he would end up getting any money out of it.

From there we took the metro to rue Daguerre to see my school building, but mostly to get a hearty Salade Speck that I was craving. Bacon-like ham, cheese, potatoes, lettuce...mmm, and a café. We found our way over to Shakespeare & Co., that beloved island of the English language within Paris. By now it was getting close to 5:30 and we were still hungry for much more that evening, but we needed to style out first.

Before going to eat, we stepped our way past the lively Moulin Rouge and up the steps to Sacré-Coeur-- possibly one of the more romantic place to many young french kids to work on their french kissing techniques. We looked out over the city, steeped in love, on this St. Valentine's Day, I laid one on her, and we took off to the metro in search of the illustrious, quintessentially Parisian resto, La Coupole.

To say that our dining experience there was anything less than marvelous and unique would be wrong. I've never eaten at such a fine establishment. We walkedin, a little timidly, "On est deux" I said. I was told that it would be about one hour then instead of giving them my name, they gave me one. What a great idea to have a recognizable, a pronounible name of famous artists or composers. Much better than hearing "Staler" all the time. We chatted and waited in the bar of the immense room.

While waiting a server stopped by to joke around with us. "Honeymoon?" he asked in his foreign accent. "When are you going to ask her?" he pressured me. We laughed as he stopped by several other times to talk. Waiters were dressed to the nines in tuxedos or vests porting trays above their shoulders and lighting fire to various plates of food. Not just good food, but good presentation as well.

I ordered the escargots (snails), bar (sea bass), and crème brulée (crème brulée). Vanessa had a well-seared salmon and something like a chocolate muffin filled with fudge for dessert. We had a bottle of white wine and finished off the event with a café. Woah... so good. Delicious. Fun. Flames -- two of the three plates I received were set aflame just far enough in advance of being set down in front of me to not sear my eye brows. Our server, who happened to be the same man who was joking with up before kept up our laughter throughout the meal as he prompted us to get the camera ready, kiss each other, and enjoy the meal. The bill came after our marathon 3 hour meal and we graciously thanked the server for improving our meal and returned to place de clichy.

It will be tough to trump that evening, but we tried the following day on Sunday. We ate a french breakfast at au Petit Poucet, 1/4 of a baguette with butter, croissant, jus d'orange, and un café. And you don't think I get enough protein in my breakfasts at home, Mom. We visited a nearby cemetary in hopes of seeing a few famous graves only to be slightly disappointed to find that most of the cool people are underground somewhere else. So we wandered around in the direction of the Louvre. I couldn't imagine living in such a massive palace as that. Then we cut towards the Salon de Thé, Angelina.

A lustful drink called Le Chocolat Africain is, as Rick Steves adroitly stated, almost think enough to stand a spoon in. And he doesn't lie. The drink is think and rich. Imagine drinking a bowlful of dark chocolate chips that have spend the afternoon basking in the sun. Pour in into your teacup and add fresh, dense whipped cream and then rink another, and that's pretty much it. Its just good enough not to suffocate your palate. We had enough for 2 fair-sized cups each and we split a Mont Blanc as well -- merengue, shipped creme, and what is basically cake frosting. The smooth, refreshingly cleansing water didn't last long.

For the rest of the afternoon we walked around. She left around 5 and I hustled home for some more crêpes with Fraçoise, one of Jacque's neighbors. Good stuff.

This week has been relatively uneventful. I went out with a few guys on Tuesday night and then last night I spent a good amount of time sipping some café and surfing the web. Today I planned several trips for the future. Tomorrow my housemate Stephen and I are busing to Brussels in Belgium. It will be a tour of waffles and a sampling of there more than 500 varieties of beer. Then at the end of March, I'm headed to London for the weekend. I'm working on spring break plans which look like might wind me up in Sardina, a small italian island in the Med, and also another weekend trip to Krakow, in Poland, perhaps. I've heard that's one of the places that's more off the map, but growing in popularity. That's all for now!

The rain in spain really does stay mainly on the plain

Yes it's true, the weather in mountainous Barcelona was a marvelous change from the dreary slosh in Paris.  As Jim at the meat market would say, "The sun's shining, the birds are singing".  While they may speak a little faster in Spain, they take their time with everything else.  Elderly men stroll down the street, hands clasped behind their backs, as they reflect on the quality of their day.  The entire city sleeps in until around 9 or 10 in the morning.  Hardly any shops start setting out their street umbrellas until they're well rested.  And I couldn't imagine they would be able to wake up any earlier with much consistency because a normal dinner (of tapas!) in Barcelona begins around 10pm.  It is a good city.

I scheduled my wake up call from Vanessa early on Friday, around 4:30, and made my way to the Noctillion, Paris' night bus.  I found the stop and two minutes later a bus rolled up.  I traveled 15 minutes to the outskirts of the city with both those beginning their days and finishing their nights.  From there I caught another bus to the Paris-Beauvais airport -- the airport for the cheapo airlines like mine, Ryanair.

Vanessa showed up and after our flight to Barcelona we were glad that all of the buses and taxis and airplanes that morning had moved along with such ease.  We made it safely and easily to Barcelona.  Our first mission was to take to the streets to find our hostel.  We found it, handed over some cash, and made a b-line for the Segrada Familia.  If you can put an imagine in your mind of a sand castle made from mixing water and sand (you know what I'm taking about Mimi) then you can see this building without visiting it.  Although I've gotta say that it is much more impressive when you actually go there.  This cathedral has been in construction for over 100 years I believe.  At one point its construction was overseen by the Barcelona's famous artist, Gaudi.  I feel like this guy was way ahead of his time. Back in the 20s and around then he designed many buildings and a park in Barcelona in the art nouveau style.  I've included some pictures because his work is really great.  I feel like Tim Burton, the director, might have found some inspiration for much of his style from Gaudi.

So we left the cathedral and climbed uphill to Parc Güell for a picnic and some spectacular views of the city.  I put on some pictures because I thought that 1000 words would be better than the few I could come up with.

From there was rested our legs for a while at the hostel.  The Mediterranean Youth Hostel was a great first experience in a hostel.  The staff was friendly and spoke english.  The room where we stayed was in a new section of the hostel where no one had slept before.  It smelled of fresh paint and there was a little paster on the ground still.  There are far more fetid things or creatures with hundreds of legs that could have found their way beneath my feet -- or worse beneath my sheets.

Dinner number one, 9:30pm: a difficult situation mixing up french and spanish words while ordering tapas and wine.  Tapas, if you are unaware, as I was, is a filling meal for several people consisting of many different small plates of appetizers.  This restaurant had a deal that was deliciously simple.  They brought us a bottle of white wine, from the region of course, and 5 cold dishes: something like potato salad, a few slices of ham, anchovies with olives, and a couple salad-like dishes.  Then came the warm dishes.  5 more: chorizo sausage, a meat kabob, these fried cheese/chicken bites, and a couple other things I can't remember.  It was a generous amount of food for the two of us and we left feeling very content.

The following day started off early as we hustled down the street only to miss our train to the countryside.  No problemo though, we waited in the sun and took the train the following hour.  We made it to Montserrat and up the cablecar by noon.  After ascending we were able to see for miles.  The main reason for going up there was to see an abbey in the mountains, but it turned out to be far more.  We started walking up steps that led back into the hills and after a while we were on the top.  We ate lunch 15 feet from a sheer cliff surrounded by wild rosemary and sage herbs.  I picked up and stuffed it in my bag.  I always think its so exciting to see fruits and vegetables and herbs going in their natural environment, not just on a farm or something.  

The hike down was much easier and quicker than going up, but it was stilled enjoyed.  The ride back to Barcelona and the rest of the day was spend relaxing at cafes and in the hostel until it was about time for dinner.

Dinner number 2, 10:15pm: Basically the same as the night before except with Sangria instead of wine and mostly cold dishes.  It was just as delicious though.

The following morning we woke up slowly until I took a shower in the freezing water of our hostel.  There were still a few kinks to be worked out in the electricity of the new addition to the hostel.  The water heater, and many of the lights, were not functioning more often than they were.  We walked around, eating a few pastries and a baguette for breakfast.  We saw casa mila and casa batllo, both Gaudi designs, then headed toward the beach.  Sand and water was on our minds, but we wanted it to be on our feet.  Well it was, but I still had my shoes on unfortunately.  We sat on the side of the beach for about an hour probably with our feet dangling just above (and occasionally below) the water.  We did a beach walk and after a small lunch and a well sought-after ice cream cone, we found the bus station for our return up north.

It was definitely a good weekend.

Also, on a less interesting note, I started classes just yesterday.  I have Modern Art in the morning, then French Cinema and Society in the afternoon.  That is monday and wednesday and then tuesday thursday I have a French language class in the morning and a history of photography class in the afternoon.  An entire university went on strike in Paris recently so I have to find another course to take at an exterior university, as required by IU.  I'm looking at a religious studies class now and it is one of the only classes that fits with my schedule.  We'll see how that goes.

Something else that I'm excited about is the possibility to work at a boulangerie somewhere here in Paris.  It's only a though that I had recently, but I will definitely look into it.

That's about it for now.

Well I realized that I haven't given an update recently on my life here in France.  I'm still alive and enjoying myself.  This weekend began on Sunday night with the Superbowl.  Actually here in France they begin the week and their calendars with Monday and actually that's went the superbowl really started here, Monday night around 12:30.  And Stephen, my housemate and I, watched the entire game until 4:30 am.  It was a good game and we had just met that night so it was nice to hang out.  We caught the night bus as the snow was coming down in Paris.  We got almost 2.5 centimeters!  That is extraordinary for Paris as they very seldom receive any snow at all.  According to Jacques, this is because of the atlantic climate we have here.  Paris, and much of France, remains in the middle of the thermometer year round.  So while the snow lasted kids were scrapping enough off cars or the ground to form snowballs.  It didn't last long and eventually Paris reverted to it's usual raininess and the snow became dirt and water.

It may seem that I've been reticent this week because I have had a french class with homework and readings.  If I'm slightly busy now, I wonder what it'll be like when I have 5 classes.  I feel like this is just a shock of work now relative to my vacation from any necessary deadlines.  The class was good and I had the opportunity to rest at home a little bit in the mornings before heading to class on the 13 line to Gaité.

Other highlights from the week include seeing a man playing accordion on the metro (I want to illustrate this a little bit more.  At one of the metro stops underground a short man with a black cap hopped into our car along with a woman who was shaking a tambourine.  He spouted out several words, which I couldn't understand, but I assumed he said something along the lines of, "For you listening pleasure I'd like to introduce to you Marie! the best dancing tambourine woman in Paris and myself, Jean-Pierre!, world-renowned Accordionist and tight rope walker! Now enjoy the salacious sounds of my Squeezebox!"  And I enjoy them I did.  His fingered zipped over the keys and buttons as he wobbled around, being a little top heavy from the massive music box strapped to his chest.  He grinned and kneaded his accordion with zest and jollity like no other.  I was impressed with the stance he was able to hold as the metro rocked along the rails beneath the city.  I decided to contribute to his cause and flipped him a euro as I left at my station.)

I also met up with some friends at a jazz bar on Tuesday which was good.  There was a house band and different people stood up in front and performed.  Some sang, someone played guitar, everyone was good and listening to french people sing american songs was entertaining.  One of my friends, Sam, was invited to the stage to sing a standard.  He was great and his singing reminded me of Michael Bublé or Harry Connick Jr.  We left after he hit his final notes and walked to a bar with a fantastical name, The Frog and the Princess.  It was nothing like a fantasy at all really.  There were too many people crowded in a space too small and the discotheque lighting was enough to cause epileptic seizures. We had a malty beer and hung out for a while before catching the metro home.

Other quick things that I've done this week: La Guillotine, a bar in the Latin Quarter, attempted to catch a reading at an ancient-looking english bookstore--Shakespeare & Co., ate some sweet food by Jacques--last night we had some amazing omelette with bacon and potatoes.  After I've got a big enough list made up, which can't be too long, I'm going to talk about all of the food I've eaten.  Get jealous.  This weekend -- Barcelona.  Expect to hear about that next.