Pictures

For a collection of all of my pictures, please enjoy both

http://picasaweb.google.com/aspettami/Paris#
and
http://picasaweb.google.com/aspettami/ParisOnAStudentSBudget#

I'm trying not to duplicate the photos in both albums so please view both.
All photos were taken with my tiny point-and-shoot Canon, but hopefully I'll get some better DSLR pics up soon. :)

Why do I even have a Metro navigo?

Kind of peeved about my whole bank account situation, I decided to head down to the Seine for some sure to be gorgeous sites. I headed out at about 5pm and just returned now at at beautiful 8:42 pm because, as you might have guessed, you can't just walk down to the seine, say "ok, that was nice" and then just walk back. I walked from my apt. in the 3rd, down rue de beaubourg until I hit the Seine, at which point I let out a girlish scream because I could see Notre Dame de Paris like 2ft away from me. I could literally feel the anger of all the commuting parisians breathing down my neck as I stopped dead in my tracks after crossing the river. It was so big I had to step back 50 feet to see it all at once. If I had a crash mat behind me, or one of those cute fainting couches from back in the days of corsets, I would have sighed and fell backwards smiling.

Well now I couldn't just stop there. I kept going. I saw the church of st. julien le pauvre and almost kissed the bald head of the man who I assumed was the abbot waiting next to the door because everything about the church was just so cute. It was like a lost puppy situated so close to the grandeur of Notre Dame yet so deserted and plain looking. I was completely in love with it's charm.

I walked slightly past the cathedral only to find that there were nearly 4 Manga stores all around me -- and not only was I in the center of Manga-town, Paris, but this was a Manga-town unlike any other. They had Soul Eater posters in the windows. Yes, folks, I have found the store to which I will lose my boyfriend, who is a big Manga adict. And best of all, there were several others just like it right next door. Across the street were American comic book stores boasting some action figures that must date back to the '60s. I snapped some photos of all of this since I am supposed to be keeping up with my Japanese while I'm here and decided I would return one of these days to see if I couldn't practice my conversational Japanese with some of the proprietors.

Then I strolled around the latin quarter and and past the Musée d'Orsay before returning to a walk along the seine. I have now decided where I need to go if I want to go bar hopping in Paris. They are EVERYWHERE in the latin quarter and come in all shapes and sizes. Also, happy hour mojitos for 3EUR? Don't mind if I do!

After a nice walk, I stoped in my tracks yet again because yes, there it was, the louvre. As I walked over the bridge toward the entrance I stopped in my tracks yet again (see a pattern here?) because the sun had peaked just over the Tour Eiffel and created this perfect silhouette that made even this iron beast of a monument look like a little key chain the tourists were buying for way too much money about 20ft away from me. Picture me, in my red jacket, literally twirling around in circles beaming like a little girl in the middle of a crowded bridge in Paris. Yes. People stared. No, I didn't care that I looked like a matador's cape gone mad. I was standing in between two of the most iconic monuments in Paris -- like them or not, you would have been excited too.

So I trotted over the cobblestones that lead to the Jardin de Tuileries and began snapping some photos when off to my left I hear a woman scream. I look to find a small older woman bent over an enormous puddle. I walked over and asked in my very best French if I could help her with something, and she told me that she dropped her metro ticket in the puddle. I used my umbrella to help her pick it up and she thanked me profusely. She reminded me so much of one of my French professors, Mme. Saigal, in that once she started talking to me, she just didn't want to stop. Wasn't this lovely and isn't that fantastic and oh don't you love Paris? Well it is a bit cold but still isn't it lovely and do you know about this little museum called "musée de cluny" yes well it's actually an old monastery and it has art from the middle ages and it's spelled c-l-u-n-y, you can't miss it take this metro and while you're there...

I loved her. Instantly. I half expected her to break out into an Edith Piaf song like Mme Saigal used to but before we could get to that point she went into the louvre and we exchanged "bonne soirée!"s.

As I made my way back toward my apartment I took in all the sights and smells I could. The river air was crisp, the trees smelled like fall, and the cobblestones under my feet felt like a little mouse under the streets was trying to press morse code into my feet as I walked. Every brasserie and patisserie I passed looked gorgeous. I thought of my friend, Sarah, the "lady chocolatier," every time I passed another gorgeous chocolatier's creation.

I picked up a pain au chocolat at the local boulangerie where I purchased my baguette yesterday. I'm really enjoying the convenience of being surrounded by fresh baked everything.

I raise my glass to a day well spent, and a lot of money saved in a bank account that still perplexes me.

Total damages:

Pain au chocolat: ,95 EUR

"Um, oui?"

So I just had the most embarrassing experience trying to communicate with the man who works at the bank where I just opened up an account. His very limited English and my very limited knowledge of French financial vocabulary combined to create one of the most interesting conversations I've had in years. After a while, I got used to just miming things and nodding my head. He must have thought that I was a complete idiot.

Other fun news. Apparently in France, when you open an account with a bank, you have to go to the post office to sign something after a week in order for them to open the account. I asked the man which post office to go to, he smiled a little and basically said the French equivalent of "good question." I'm beginning to wonder if this whole bank account thing wasn't a good idea after all. I really wanted to be able to write checks for my rent, but I wont even get my checks until 2 weeks after I sign that paper at the mystery post office...

I've contacted my landlord for some help... we'll see :)

A Parisian Morning

Yesterday's Baguette + French Jam + cup of pineapple juice + the sound of rain outside = perfect breakfast.

Where to buy your towels in Paris: a journey

How can a bottle of champagne cost only 1,90 EUR when a shitty cotton towel sells for upwards of 16,90?

Welcome to Paris, kids.

This is the kind of stuff they never tell you about. We are all educated about how to use the metro, how and where to eat, how to communicate, etc... But no one ever tells you where to buy a cheap towel if heaven forbid the ones in your apt. smell like mildew.

Now I'm not your average study abroad student -- I did my fair share of research and I knew that I would be able to buy a towel at Monoprix, the Parisian version of "Target" or so I had heard. Well, the place looks like a Target, in that you can buy your towels within 2ft of your baguettes, but sadly the prices were not very Target-like. I mean, 16,90 for a small crappy bath towel? The ones at Target cost 4 USD!

This was when I wish someone had taught me something about Parisian stores. I had so many questions: Is there a "bed, bath, and beyond"-style store here? where? are they just as expensive as Monoprix? I thought my French would help me here, so I asked the woman next to me in the Monoprix towel isle. Unfortunately, she was under the impression that Monoprix was the best deal in town. I wanted to tell her that in the United States, I could buy the same towel for only 4 dollars, but I just sighed, picked up a couple groceries (including that 1,90 EUR bottle of champagne and some ,90 EUR saucisson sec) and went out the door towel-less.

I was now determined to get a towel that wouldn't break my bank so I headed down rue du temple thinking that I would have to find at least one store on this long and store-laden street that sold towels under 10 EUR. I was right -- after I passed the American Apparel and about 30 jewelry stores, there it was -- "texaffaires: le linge de maison à prix dégriffés." Ah yes, "dégriffé," looked like just about the most beautiful French word I could have found next to "le linge de maison." I walk in and the towels are 7,60. Not good towels, but cheap. "I have triumphed!" I thought, and rewarded myself by continuing some window shopping down the rest of rue du temple.

I went as far as I could but then I ran into a monument (oops!) and hooked a right. Much to my surprise and pleasure there was a Zara and an H&M just waiting for me to faire le lèche-vitrine. I returned home with my victory towel in hand wondering if I couldn't find other cheap stores in my neighborhood.

It was lunchtime and I was looking for a fresh baguette so I walked to the 2 minutes to the centre pompidou and quickly saw a boulangerie with ,85 EUR baguettes fresh out of the oven. I picked one up and started nibbling when I noticed the ED on the corner. When I walked inside, I found prices lower than Monoprix offered and almost frantically grabbed everything I could in my excitement. I realized I had done my grocery shopping earlier and settled myself down a bit, but I kept mental notes of the fabulous prices. Diet coke for ,30 EUR? Yes, please!

When I returned to the apartment, I fixed myself a much needed sandwich with the ingredients that I bought earlier. I washed it all down with an enormous hoegaarden which was actually more expensive than the bottle of champagne, if you can believe it (though both were under 2 EUR). One much needed shower later and I'm just about ready to go out again.

As a side note, I want to point out that my Parisienne friend, Sam, informed me about "Tati" which is apparently THE place to buy cheap things. Thanks to Sam, I wont have to repeat the towel fiasco again.


Damages today thus far:

Towel: 7,65
Groceries: 7,80
Baguette: ,85
Toilet Paper: 1,03

La rentrée

I love waking up to the sound of children walking to school. I look out my window and see them walking in pairs. My own first day of school doesn't start for a while, so until then, I'm living vicariously through their morning walks.

On a side note, none of my across-the-way-neighbors seem to have blinds or curtains (or they just decided not to use them). This makes for good "parisan people watching" (or stalking, put in less classy words). The woman in the downstairs apartment likes to cook in her bra, and the man in the 2nd floor apt just got out of the shower and is using his computer right in front of the window. Though I guess I'm not much better than either of them since I've got my curtains open as well -- but at least I have a shirt on, non?

To do today: purchase towel that doesn't smell like mildew, take epic amounts of pictures.

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