Le Parc aux Cerfs and the walk back

So I'll preface this post by informing all of you that Blogger is being evil and not letting me post pictures right now, so I can't show you all the gorgeous photos that I took yesterday and today until their system gets unclogged or I find a better way to upload photos.

That being said....

It was a beautiful day in Paris. So beautiful that I wore a sundress. Word on the street is that this will be the kindest winter in Paris yet -- they expect the sun to stay out until December. Wishful thinking or not, this brief optimism turned Paris into a sea of smiling sunbathing hopefuls stocking up on what could be the last few summer rays.

I, too, wanted my share of sun exposure, so I went over to the jardin de luxembourg to hang out with Balzac for 30 minutes before my lunch at the Parc aux Cerfs on rue Vavin. The jardin was gorgeous -- they were having a "honey festival" and it was like the sweetness rubbed off on all the parisians around me. Everyone was so happy -- it's funny how the sun can do that to you.

When it was time to go to the Parc aux Cerfs, I gathered up my appetite and met my group at the door. The Parc aux Cerfs is a great little place on rue Vavin that, like La Closerie de Lilas and Le Selet, was frequented by artists and writers when Montparnasse was where you went to be an artist or writer. The Parc aux Cerfs remembers it's custom of letting its talented customers pay via painting or drawing by letting its current customers draw on the paper tablecloths (except, we don't get exempt from paying). Luckily SLC was paying for our food today (a 35 EUR meal was a nice way to end orientation), so we were able to indulge like the artists of another age.

The first course was a choice between a cucumber soup with goat cheese, a tomme (a type of cheese) and candied cranberry salad, or a poached salmon. I chose the Tomme salad and was very happy. I think this was actualy my favorite course, though I didn't get a picture of how beautiful the cheese was displayed before I gobbled the whole thing up.

Next came the plat: a choice of chicken, salmon or duck. I chose le canard and was very pleased. The sauce was a lavendar sauce, but had a sweet citris like tang to it that enriched both the duck and the mound of snap peas it was sitting on. I must say, the French really know how to cook a duck. Maybe they put it in butter -- who knows -- but it melts in your mouth.

For dessert, we could have a berry dish, a orange crême brulée or a chocolate molten cake with salted caramel ice cream. Being torn between the chocolate cake and the crême brulée, I remembered that I didn't have an oven and should probably eat cake at every opportunity I get. Plus, it sounded to perfect with the glass of red wine I was having. I was not dissapointed.


I must say that the crême brulée looked very good, too, though. It was not a little dinky thing like I've found at most restaurants. It was pretty sizable. I would try it should I ever go back to le Parc aux cerfs.

The meal finished, like any good French meal, with a café. I took mine décaf, not wanting to be wired for the rest of the beautiful afternoon.

Taking advantage of the clear skies, I walked home via a slightly different route today. I wanted to go to the île st. louis, which is the island on the Seine next to the île de la cité (the one with Notre Dame and all the fancy stuff). My new route took me along the Seine and gave me an incredible view -- all the parisians were out on the seine like it was a beach. What a great idea for a cheap lunch, I thought, noticing a couple sharing a picnic on the left bank.

Being as hot as it was, I wasn't surpised to find that many parisians were out looking for ice cream, but I had no idea how many of them would wait in ridiculously long lines for what seemed to be the most popular ice cream label on the île. Many cafés and stores boasted this label on the canapies and I noticed that the ones who did not serve this type of ice cream had literally no customers.

The ice cream seemed kind of pricey to me at 2 EUR a boule (scoop), but for the ice cream connoisseur, this could be the best deal of a lifetime. I think that's about the same price as a coldstones in the US, right? The prices also get cheaper if you buy larger quantities, so if you really like the stuff, it might fit well into a student's budget.

My trip to the cute little island was a great, but I found an even more exciting pitstop on the other side of the river -- a flea market! It was like all of the 4th was having a yard sale right along the Seine. I looked around for a while and talked to some French people before asking someone how often this happens. Apparently, for one sunday a month, you can pick up someone else's parisan treasures on the cheap! A great idea for souveniers. They also have cheap clothes and anything else you might expect at a yard sale. I highly reccomend it.

I finally got my full belly and tired feet home at about 5pm, and began to work on my homework. Classes start tomorrow!

Total Damages today:
0,00 EUR!

I'm back!

We were all told it was raining in the south, so when we arrived to a crystal clear morning in AIX, we tore off our rainboots and slapped on our ballerines that we brought in spite of our instructor's warnings. After checking into our cute hotel, Artéa, we walked past la rotonde and took the famous cours mirabeau into town.

After visiting a museum about AIX's history, we walked around the quartier, learning about AIX's architecture and visiting some of its museums, churches, and historical landmarks. Being the weekend of patrimoine (the days when the French allow public access at no charge to a lot of typically closed cultural attractions), we were lucky to see many things that we might not have been ordinarily given access to. For example, we got to go inside the salle des mariages at the Hotel de Ville and see where probably 10s of 1,000s of couples got hitched.

We were not so lucky, however, that the expected rain returned and left many of us quivering in our little ballerines. Luckily, one of the cloitres we visited had installed roofing so that we could stay dry while we listened to a wonderful guide inform us about the history of the cloitre's diverse columns.

One of the best ways to avoid the rain was our visit to the most visited "expo" in France this year: Picasso/ Cezanne. Not surprisingly, the exhibit was pretty crowded, but absolutely gorgeous. I never realized how much Picasso admired Cezanne until I saw the paintings side by side. I recommend this to anyone in AIX!

Feeling kind of soggy and definitely hungry, we returned to the hotel to prepare for our dinner (payed for by SLC) at la bastide du cours. The food was definitely a step up from what I've been eating normally -- a salad with typical fixings from provence, a chicken with a tomato sauce and potatoes, and a rich chocolate cake with an espresso for dessert. Amazing. I wish I had taken better pictures!





That night I slept like a log before our 7 am wakeup call and our 8am petit déjeuner. I know that the French petit déjeuner isn't as "meal"-like as an American breakfast, but I want to clear up the misconception that just because the French breakfast is not typically cooked it is somehow smaller or inferior. It is not. I have to say I have never been so full after a complimentary breakfast at a hotel. Coissant, baguette, two jams, a hot beverage that comes with an extra pot, fruit, yogurt, orange juice and sometimes cheese and meat, too. What a way to start the day!

Although it was raining, we toured AIX some more, stopping by various indoor sights and 1 outdoor market where local farmers sold their very best. I couldn't help but buy some herbes de provence from an adorable man who wore a hearing aid and kept telling me that he also made spices for pizzas. My friend, Pia, got some herbed goat cheese free of charge from yet another kind AIX local.

We continued our exploration of AIX, noticing that this weekend there was a big "fête" going on and many cyclists were launching themselves off of ramps and onto a giant soft landing mat. I enjoyed the Michael Jackson and other American music before exploring some beautiful gardens outside the building that currently holds a photography exposition on Picasso.

For my hour of free time, I returned to the hotel and munched on my breakfast leftovers. This is when I came to the conclusion that French butter is the best butter in the world. It's like someone put twice the butter in the same amount of butter we usually use.

We decided to go to Cassis and Marseille now that the sun had come out again, so we all filed into a rented bus and headed down to the coast. We stopped at Cassis first and I knew I had found my favorite place. I felt right at home with the marina, the beautiful coasts, and the fortresses and castles above head in the mountains. Every restaurant looked delicious and every stretch of beach looked gorgeous. I'm coming back and bringing Jay whenever I get the chance!

Having only enough time to jump into the water and walk around the town, we left Cassis hungry for more. When we arrived in Marseille, we headed first to an expo of some of Marseille's museums' collected pieces and followed our visit up with a short free Opera concert in the sculpture room.

Marseille was full of all sorts of cool things. The graffiti was even cute. It was one of those cities where everyone hangs their clothes outside on clotheslines, each building is painted a different pastel colour, and no one looks like their in a hurry to get anywhere.

After walking around the ports for a while, we headed back to AIX for dinner at Chez Laurette -- I would highly recommend this place. The food was delicious. We had a tarte salée, followed by salmon with pesto (or lasagne with generous helpings of cheese for the vegetarians), and a simply delicious tiramisu for dessert. Wow. They also kept the carafe's of wine coming. A fabulous evening to be in AIX.

The next morning, I woke up for a petit dejeuner with all the fixings. I think I may marry French hot chocolate. How do they make it so delicious?

I stashed away some bread and butter for our early bus ride out of AIX and up into the small little town of St. Remy, where Van Gogh spent much of his time in a mental house that was converted from a monastery.

Our first stop in St. Rémy was at some very old structures that used to serve as an entrance into the city. Now they are basically just old ruins on the side of the closest thing to a freeway you'll find near St. Rémy. Luckily, we were able to walk from these old ruins across the street to the mental institution where Van Gogh stayed many years ago.

Walking up to the building, you can see a lot of things that show up frequently in Van Gogh's work. It was really cool to compare the real thing to the artist's interpretation. I always thought that Van Gogh's painting style reflected his craziness (and some of it does), but after seeing some of the trees in St. Rémy, I realized they look exactly the same as they do in his paintings.

We went inside the building to discover another cloitre, as the building used to be a monastery. All throughout the corridors were paintings by current patients who, like Van Gogh, found an outlet through art. There was some very cool work.

Upstairs, we explored the room that is believed to be Van Gogh's bedroom at the time he stayed there. Not a bad place to be cooped up in -- the view was fantastic. While in the room, we met another visitor who had brought along his little puppy! The puppy was adorable and his little face reminded me so much of my Aunt Barbara's little doggy.


After exploring the gardens, we headed into the main part of the village for some walking and lunch. St. Rémy is just as cute as is it's size would have you believe and I found that despite it's twisty streets, it was impossible to get lost. Every store was so cute and so distinct, you would remember exactly where everything was within 30 minutes of walking around.

We were lucky, too, because many musicians were staked out in front of the Hotel de Ville and various other places with in the city, giving free concerts to us travelers. After a nice lunch with some jazz in the background, we hopped back on the bus and headed for Avignon.

When we de-boarded, I was really anxious to go to the pont d'avignon and dance, but our guide did not seem interested in the bridge and informed us that "on n'y danse pas." Our guide was less interested in the children's song and more interested in the heart of Avignon as it used to be a papal city filled with abbeys and monasteries.

We entered the city which seemed to be built of stone and were immediately struct by the pure size of everything around us. It was massive! It wasn't just vertical mass either -- the buildings were wide and built like castels, with huge and elaborate facades but very few windows.



We checked out the main cathedral wich seemed to be a beast of a buiding, especially up close. The cathedral had some very interesting things inside of it, too. Most notably, there were 2 crypts for former popes. Each crypt seemed to be a mini cathedral, white and massive.

We wandered into the rest of the city and looked at architecture that spanned the ages. We learned, too, that the city has a large Jewish population as the city protected them and alowed them to practice their religion there when it was dangerous to do so elswhere.



After a long tour through the old papal town, we slept like babies on the train back to Paris. I arrived hungry and went over to the local Franprix for an easy microwave dinner.

Total expenses this weekend:

bottle of wine from Monoprix in AIX: 3,50 EUR
2 sachets of herbes de provence (yes, mom, you're getting one): 2 EUR each = 4 EUR
1 beer in Saint Rémy: ,79 EUR
Microwave lasagna from Franprix for my lazy dinner tonight: 1,70 EUR

The Sketch Factor: La Drague

I am, for the most part, completely tolerant of cat-calls and things of that sort -- Especially in Paris where the catcalls consist of "t'es belle!" instead of "hey baby, nice ass." However, I draw the line when they don't stop, and get increasingly invasive. In America, I know how to deal with these wont-take-no-for-an-answer guys pretty well, but in France I have no idea what to say to them. I don't want to be rude, but at the same time, I do want them to leave me alone like all the other men who say their 2 or 3 words and continue walking. I've been pretending that I don't speak French, smile, shake my head, and walk away, but I would prefer a nice one-liner like we have in the states. "I'm sorry, I'm engaged," "I have AIDS," or even a simple, "Not interested."

So today when I left for Montmartre in an outfit that I thought was pretty cute, I didn't know what to say to the man who thought that I was pretty cute. I looked around me and noticed that I didn't look much different than the other girls on the metro, except that I was wearing very very tall shoes. So tall that when I was walking to the metro a little boy asked his mother if he could wear shoes like mine so he could be tall, too. Still, I remember seeing tons of girls in my neighborhood wearing even taller shoes, shoes that were brightly colored and would attract much more attention than my black suede closed toe heels. Maybe there is some unwritten "no heels in Montmartre" rule that I haven't figured out yet, or maybe I just got unlucky and happened to cross the path of the one sketchy guy in Montmartre.



After a gorgeous trip up and down the stairs of Sacre Coeur, I went one metro stop down to the local TATI where, as Samantha and Christelle had informed me, the prices were much more reasonable. I saw things I could actually afford! I bought 2 wine glasses (we only had 1 in the apt.) and a little hanging thing for the shower (we're girls, and we have a lot of shower products). At Monoprix, the shower stuff started at 9 EUR, but I got a large container for only 3 EUR at TATI. The pair of wine glasses was less than 5 EUR.

I finished up the afternoon with a walking trip to Monoprix and ED (in jeans and my most mundane looking shoes, of course). I picked up a quick pain au chocolat at Monoprix where they cost only ,60 EUR but are not quite as yummy as the ones at my local boulangerie. When I stopped by ED, I just intended to look around as I had at Monoprix, but then I saw that I could buy a whole kilogram of pasta for ,91 EUR and then there was the bordeaux for only 3,09 and the tomatoes... well lets just say I caved but honestly not the worst place give into temptation (did I mention the bordeaux? That wine sells for 13 EUR/ glass in many cafés around here, not that I've been looking...). My total damages at ED came to 5,53.

When Taylor came back from her weekend trip, I decided to take her for a walk along the Seine so that she could scream like a little girl the way I did yesterday. We celebrated her homecoming with dinner at a cute café right along the Seine. A prix fixe meal (I chose frites, steak and salad, and a fruit tart) with an orangina, a view of the seine, and a place to rest our tired feet came at 14,00 EUR a piece, and we even got a compliment from the chef about our French. :)

Might go out dancing later :)

Total damages thus far:

Wine glasses: 4,99 EUR
Shower container: 2,99 EUR
Pain au chocolat: ,60 EUR
1 kg spaghetti: ,91 EUR
3 vine ripened tomatoes: ,60 EUR
1 package of chunks of meat (I swear it looks delicious): ,90 EUR
bordeaux: 3,09 EUR

Bonjour, Paris!

Any country who's airline forgoes the overdone soft drinks and dry roasted peanuts combo in favor of complimentary champagne and petite baguettes is clearly getting an A in my book. But it didn't just stop after landing; the magic continued long after I made my way through customs, out the baggage claim and onto the RER.

On the RER I was surprised to find that every able bodied Frenchman was willing to help me lug my heavy bags up onto the train and point me in the right direction upon my arrival. Where did this myth about the French being snide and unhelpful come from anyway? Clearly not Paris, where I was informed in a very heavy French accent that "helping people looks cool, very chic," by one man who helped me carry a bag up a flight of stairs at a Metro station that was clearly not wheelchair accessible.

But don't go thinking that these RERs are only full of kind Frenchmen. As if it wasn't enough to take in the Parisian countryside on my way into the heart of the city, Paris decided to treat me with some local entertainment. That's right -- a woman got on the train and literally sang an aria out loud. God I love this place.

After grabbing my key, loading a monthly Metro pass onto my card, and sighing in exhaustion, I finally made it up to my apartment in the 3rd arrondissement. The apartment surprised me in that it has a lot more character than I expected for a building that basically acts as dorm residence for students most of the year. The was have this strange texture that vaguely reminds me of finger-painting -- only it's all a solid white. The curtains to my street-view window are held back by tiny fleur de lys shaped hooks and my room's furniture seems to be an advertisement for France itself (I have one red couch, one blue couch, and white walls, you get the picture). Additionally, dark wood is left exposed on both walls and ceilings in a way that is much more charming than I could possibly describe. And the hard wood floors make it a room any dancer in their right mind would envy.

After rearranging the place so that I could position my desk as close to the window as I could get it, I met my roommate, Taylor. We talked about little things we wanted to improve for the apt. and how both of us packed way too much stuff as per usual. Since Taylor had to catch her professors later tonight for a night tour of Paris, we decided to catch dinner at a local eatery to celebrate our arrival.


We quickly found a place that was serving happy hour specials (which in Paris seems to start at 5 and go till 10 at most places) and grabbed a 3 course prix fixe meal a piece. I chose a pina colada followed by the French onion soup (which has to have been the best French onion soup I've ever had in my life, but no surprises there), a chicken served with herbs from provence and roasted potatoes, and a crepe with nutella for dessert. I don't think I finished anything besides the pina colada even though I desperately wanted to keep eating. I think I would have been fine with just the French onion soup, but this was a celebration dinner, so I'm glad we sprung for the feast.

Two and 1/2 hours later, we managed to squeeze out of the restaurant just before Taylor had to meet her professors. As I walked the short distance back to our apartment, I felt rain on my face and as I looked up at the haussmannian architecture surrounding me, I really felt like I was walking home. My stomach full and my heart ablaze, I waded through the newly forming puddles into my room to put my feet up and thought, "this is the beginning of a beautiful romance."



Total Damage:

RER ticket: 9 EUR
Mothly Metro Pass: 56 EUR
3 course prix fixe: 15 EUR
1 HH pina colada: 5 EUR
Tip for singer on the train: 1 EUR