Phil and Lots and Lots of Food

The last ten days have gone by so quickly that I can barely remember them! Phil came on the 20th and, unfortunately, left today. But we had a completely wonderful time! We walked, went on guided tours of the Left Bank and the islands, explored the seemingly endless number of city nooks, and ate, ate, and ate some more.

I'll try to provide some details of what we saw and, of course, ate, over the next few days, but right now I'm a bit sleepy and a little sad that Phil is gone. I do want to say that we discovered a little restaurant (called Au Bon Cru) where they served a goat cheese with tomato confit in filo dough concoction that we both fell madly in love with. I MUST FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE IT!!!!!!!

The Fleas

The most famous flea market in all of Paris is held at Porte de Clignancourt (at the very northern end of Metro Line 4) every Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. The market is officially called Les Puces de Saint-Ouen, but is known to the flea market crowd as “Les Puces” (The Fleas). Covering a little more than seventeen acres, Les Puces is the largest antique market in the world, receiving around 150,000 visitors every weekend!!! (This boggles my mind still!) So I weighed my hatred of large crowds against my affinity for antique flea markets, and while it was a tough call, my curiosity eventually got the better of me and I decided to go. I went on Sunday and didn’t get there until 2pm, which was apparently a good call because it was only pleasantly crowded. And it was SO. INCREDIBLY. COOL!!!!!!

Les Puces, which dates back over two centuries, started when rag and bone men (i.e., junk dealers) scoured the garbage bins of Paris to find items they could sell. They were called 'crocheteurs' (pickers), or the slightly more romantic term, 'pêcheurs de lune' (fishermen of the moon, since most did their foraging at night). While they at first set up their stalls within Paris itself, they were eventually nudged out of the city to suburbs such as Clignancourt. Over time, the salesmen started grouping their stalls to attract more customers and ‘trading up’ in terms of goods, such that it eventually become popular for antique collectors and dealers to shop for bargains there.


But enough history. Regardless of how it started, it is now SO. INCREDIBLY. COOL. It’s a bit like a maze. A huge maze that you could wander for hours through without passing the same site twice. (This actually might not be the best floor plan for sales, because I saw something I wanted at the beginning of my visit that I was never able to relocate.) And they were selling every type of antique you could imagine! From elegant dining tables and bedroom sets to those scary little Victorian-esque dolls that resemble a refined female version of Chucky from Child’s Play.

Despite the dolls, I enjoyed myself so thoroughly that I completely lost track of time and was there for hours. After combing the stalls for the entire afternoon, I finally settled on a pair of carved wooden angels to grace our mantle at home—but changed my mind when I learned that they were approximately €750 outside of my €50 price range…. So I instead spent some of my money on lunch at Chez Louisette—which turned out to be the highlight of my already very highlight-y trip to Les Puces. Chez Louisette is a tiny bistro/bar that has been at the flea market since 1967. And as far as I could tell, it has cornered the market and is the only sit-down restaurant there. The place was ridiculously crowded, but so incredibly fun and lively that it didn't matter. There was an accordion ensemble belting out old French classics, patrons two-stepping in the almost non-existent aisles, and an adorable Mom & Pop couple waiting (and bussing) the tables. Not to mention a full menu of classic French dishes and a full-service bar.


































P.S. Did I mention that I am LOVING this trip?

Bastille Day and the Ballet!

Yesterday was Bastille Day here in France—a.k.a. La Fête Nationale. Bastille Day commemorates the storming of the Bastille prison on July 14, 1789, which marked the beginning of the French Revolution. The prison was a symbol of the absolute and arbitrary power of Louis the 16^th, and its capture by the people signaled that they were no longer willing to accept that power as absolute. Needless to say, there were celebrations all over Paris all day long, including the oldest and largest annual military parade in Europe, held on the Champs-Élysées, and what is said to be a spectacular fireworks display at the Eiffel Tower at nightfall. I, however, had a ticket to the ballet! (Unfortunately, this happy fact also meant that I had to allot my free time for the day accordingly, and so missed out on the Bastille Day festivities.)

I’ve never attended a ballet before. This was, put simply, the mother of all introductions, and might have ruined me for all other ballets for the rest of time. It was DAZZLING. From the moment I set foot inside the Palais Garnier until I left 2½ hours later, I was completely sensorially overwhelmed. The building defies description, and I am left wondering what Paris was thinking when it built the Opéra Bastille as its replacement. As if any building could replace this! Let alone the Bastille Opera…. (If I were speaking out loud right now, I would make a scoffing noise of some sort here. Maybe a snort.) I saw Othello last week at Bastille, and the biggest compliment I can muster for either is “meh.”

But Palais Garnier is more than just visually stunning. Upon entering the building, you are transported back to 19^th century Paris. The historically accurate attire of the theater attendants, the military drum procession through the halls, and the dueling soprano and bass chants of the program saleswoman and man (respectively) all contributed to the sense that you had entered another place in very different time.

And the BALLET!!!!!! I haven’t even talked about the ballet yet! I saw Les Enfants du Paris, a new ballet created by a new director, which translates the old Parisian film of the same name into dance. The ballet is set in early 20^th century Paris and tells the story of its artists, theaters, and cabarets through the memories of a mime named Baptiste. Don’t ask me how they managed to convey all that through dance, but they did. It was marvelously brilliant and kept the viewer completely engaged by blurring the boundaries between reality and fantasy. I’m still not sure which was which. But I AM sure I loved it. And I suspect I have fallen in love with ballet. And, without doubt, Paris.

Oh – and the dancing was FLAWLESS!!!!!! Here are some pictures. Unfortunately, the Palais Garnier is dimly lit and use of flash was strongly discouraged, so these are somewhat less than perfect.

Also, we obviously weren’t allowed to photograph the dancers during the performance, lest they be blinded by the flash and fall off the stage. So to offer some sense of what the performance was like, I downloaded a couple of photos from the Internet.

Gardens!!!!!

Unfortunately, today was spent working and doing life maintenance stuff—grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning, etc. Yesterday, however, was wonderful! My primary goal, since it was a very sunny day, was to visit Sainte Chapelle on Île de la Cité. Word is that the walls are made up almost entirely of stained glass, and that when the sun is shining, it is a breathtakingly beautiful sight to behold—often compared to “a jewelry box full of diamonds.” The church is apparently a marvel of gothic architecture. It was built in 1246 as a home to relics of the True Cross—including, purportedly, Jesus’ Crown of Thorns. It is relatively small, which is what allows it to accomplish its architectural oddities—soaring heights without the usual requirement of heavy flying buttresses for support.

But I digress…. I didn’t actually make it to the church before it closed at 6pm, so that’s still on my to-do list. Instead, I visited the Royal Palace and Tulieries Gardens. The Royal Palace Gardens are entirely enclosed by the palace, and there was a large section of the buiding in which there was some type of construction going on. So while it was extremely lovely, I sense that I didn’t get the full experience. Nevertheless, here are some pictures:

Window display in one of the Royal Palace shops













Roses













Tree-lined walk

















The Tulieries Gardens, however, were MAGNIFICENT!!!!! This is the oldest park in Paris, and is filled with ponds, fountains, and statues of mythological figures and events. (I’ve read than many of the sculptures have been disfigured by acid rain, but they were still completely lovely to my eyes!)






























I walked and walked and walked, took pictures, and drank a glass of champagne at the little garden café. Perfect day! The gardens begin right outside the Louvre with the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel—the smaller of Napoleon’s two arches that was constructed to commemorate his victories in the War of the Third Coalition in 1805. (Judging by scale, he apparently considered this one of his smaller victories, but the arch is still quite impressive.)















I would like to say I know where the gardens end, but I didn’t make it that far because I was rushing to get to Sainte Chapelle. (Doh.) But I’m heading back tomorrow for my first run (!!!) in Paris—and I can’t wait to see more!

P.S. Here are a couple of pictures of the Louvre as well, since I was right there and feeling artsy.

Day 5

I am SUCH a forgetful blogger…. So I’ve been in Paris for five days now, and as I expected, I’ve had ups and downs. I am a terribly shy person. I enjoy complete solitude for long periods of time, and in fact require it to recharge and be able to function adequately. Fortunately, I don’t see these traits as character flaws—in fact I embrace them as part of what makes me uniquely me. Nonetheless, these idiosyncrasies do make functioning alone in a foreign country challenging. I do speak enough French to get by, but am embarrassed about my terrible pronunciation and so have avoided using it as much as possible. And while when at home I can remain happily holed up in our house five or six nights a week without guilt, here I want to see and do as much as possible and so am making myself go out daily—even when I’d rather just curl up with a good book. It, admittedly, has not been easy. But I suppose nothing worthwhile ever is. And my sometimes-debilitating shyness is, in large part, why I decided to make this trip. Despite my tendencies—my introversion and inertia—I want to be the type of person who is constantly challenging herself to be a better, more complete person. I would like to routinely step outside my comfort zone and truly experience life to the fullest, so that when I look back when I am old (right around the corner, really), I can honestly say that mine was a life well-lived.

To that end, I have been sight-seeing like crazy! Here are some pictures of my experiences so far:

This is a rainbow I saw near the old Opera on my first night here.


The Louvre.


Tour Saint Jacques.


Pont Neuf.


Jesus at the entrance to Notre Dame.


"Locks of Love" on the Pont des Arts.


Beautiful stained glass at St. Germain l'Auxerrois.


And finally, my latest sketch of how I imagine Phil, Minnie, and Sassy are spending their time without me.

P.S. I discovered today that a glass of Bordeaux helps tremendously with my fear of mispronunciation, and I was soon speaking without hesitation! Yay for me! But I’ll have to keep a steady supply of wine on hand for the rest of the trip…..

My Apartment

I moved into my apartment this afternoon and am completely thrilled!!! It’s absolutely perfect—bright, airy, and very, very French. (I'm not even sure what that means, but it is.)

My very French apartment:

























The apartment is located on a picturesque little square that, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to have a name. But it DOES have a very pretty fountain, so in the interest of developing a practical nomenclature, I’ll be calling it Pretty Fountain Square.

Pretty Fountain Square, as viewed from my apartment:













This evening, I’ll be heading out for my very first dinner, followed by a trip to the local farmers’ market (which is surprisingly open until 9pm) to stock up on fruits, veggies, and more importantly, bread and cheese. Dinner will be at Bistrot Vivienne, primarily because it’s located in one of the few remaining 19th-century arcades—covered pedestrian walkways lined with restaurants and boutiques that were developed to allow pedestrians to shop and dine free of the mud and muck that was apparently rampant in Paris at the time.

More tomorrow!

P.S. Since I’ll be eating solo, I’m taking my book so I don't look too sad to the happily paired and grouped diners. By the end of this trip, however, I intend to be a fierce and fearless solo diner who cares NOT what the neighboring tables think!

At the Airport!

It seems like only yesterday that this idea to live in Paris for a month popped into my head, so it’s hard to believe that the day of my departure has already arrived! As I imagine is the case with everyone who is leaving something profoundly good behind—even briefly—the day has proven a little bittersweet. Although he’ll be joining me towards the end of the month, I already miss Phil. And I’m sad I’ll be missing an entire month of the all-too-short summer season in Connecticut. (I had originally planned to take this trip in the winter, but my work schedule wouldn’t cooperate.) And while I was already nervous to leave behind our 16-year-old cat, Minnie, my anxieties escalated dramatically after she was attacked by a neighborhood stray on Friday. The vet assured me she will be fine, and she’s in Phil’s very competent hands, but she was clearly unhappy with me when she noticed me packing my suitcases….

And yet, despite my woes, it’s extremely difficult to be melancholy when you’re going to Paris for a month. And so I’m leaving with a smile on my face. It’s going to be great.


Here is a portrait of Minnie, looking disgruntled as I packed: