From the Winding Streets of Montmartre to the Fields of Monet

Finally, the long-promised account of the previous weekend. Before starting, I want to share a few odd tidbits.
Everyone in this country thinks I’m Spanish. At first I thought it was interesting when people asked me if I was from Spain, but now even when I ask people where they think I come from with my bad American accent, they still think I’m Spanish. I’ve had people also guess Italian, Cuban, and British. I asked a couple people about it and they said that my features and coloring are very Spanish. I was especially flattered when a woman in a shop said that I reminded her of someone in a Velázquez painting.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love apples. The French take apples to a whole new level, in fact they put apples in everything. In the United States, applesauce is for babies, but here, it’s served after a meal like a dessert. I’ve also found apple yogurt, which has little pieces of apple in it. You can even find a croissant with an apple filling.

In the afternoon, we made the standard tourist pilgrimage to Montmartre. Paris is much flatter than San Francisco, but Montmartre, could rival any of our hills. In order to get to Sacre Coeur at the top, you have to climb both steep slopes and endless staircases. At the top, you’re rewarded with a view of Paris and the church itself.

Since it is a church, Sacre Coeur is free. It’s different than Notre Dame and some of the other Gothic churches in heart of the city, because it was built in the 19th century. It’s domed and the windows have symbols, rather than images of saints.

Montmartre itself is an interesting neighborhood. It still has the small, windy streets you’d expect to find in Paris. At the same time, it is one of the most touristy areas in the city. If San Francisco Chinatown is what white people think China is like, Montmartre is what Americans think Paris is like. The restaurants are the small cafés, but there really are only tourists. There are also shops selling the standard souvenirs and hoards of artists who come up to you and try to insist on drawing your portrait.


As a side note, I saw the Moulin Rouge on my way back. It’s much smaller than I would have imagined.

The Muée D'Orsay also has a reputation for being a tourist magnet, but it is definitely worth braving the crowds and going. I’ve seen pictures of Van Gough and Monet paintings, but they come to life when you see them for real. Van Gough in particular is much more vibrant when you can see the texture and the color in his paintings. I was also startled by the contrast between the two painters. The room with the Van Goughs is right next to the one with the Monets. I definitely felt calmer and more comfortable when I left behind Van Gough’s intense works for Monet’s calmer, quieter, and equally beautiful ones.



These two artists are obviously not the only ones there, but their works struck me the most. There are plenty of paintings by Renoir, Degas, Cezanne, Gauguin, and many others. Toulouse-Lautrec always reminds me of the presentation I did for French in high school with Cynthia. I’m not sure she’s ever forgiven me for the dreadful beginning.

In the afternoon, I went to the Opéra Garnier, which is the majestic opera house in the center of Paris. I think it’s the opera house in The Phantom of the Opera. You can take tours or explore the building yourself, but they still do show operas and ballets. The building is gilded beyond belief and you feel regal even when surrounded by fellow tourists. My goal for the fall is to see an actual ballet there.


As if all this wasn’t enough for one weekend, I took Monday off to go visit Saint Denis, which is the church just outside of Paris where all the kings were buried. During the Revolution, a number of the tombs were smashed up and looted, but today you can still see the effigies of most of the Kings of France, as well as a number of assorted consorts. I was understandably in raptures, especially with the ones I knew well. I have to admit; there are some French kings that I don’t know all that much about, which made me very frustrated that I left my book of French kids back at school. This is Henri II with his wife Catherine de Medici. I do actually know a fair amount about him. He died in a tournament when his helmet failed to deflect a blow to the head. He was also a notorious lady’s man.

In the Shadow of La Tour Eiffel

I literally spent 10 hours on the Champs de Mars yesterday, which the giant lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower. I now have pictures of the Eiffel Tower in the afternoon, evening, and night. The reason I gave up a perfectly good afternoon to roast in the sun was of course for the 14 juillet.

14 juillet is the French national independence day. In the US, we often call it Bastille Day, but no one here seems to. Most French take advantage of the day off to sleep in. American tourists wake up early to go to the parade on the Champs Élysées. My friends and I decided to forgo the sleep and go to the parade. Unfortunately, we didn’t wake up at 6, so I spent the parade craning my neck over the crowd to see the French troops going by. The most exciting part was the military fly over.

After wandering around in the vicinity of the Champs Élysées, my friends and I just gave up and went to the Champs de Mars. When we got there at 1:30, we had room for the four of us to spread out and lie down. By the 10:45 when the fireworks started, we barely had enough room to sit down. In between, we sat in the sun, talked, napped, and made friends with the people around us. I also learned two important lessons.

1. Bring your own sunscreen to France. I paid 13 euros, which is more than $15 for a normal sized bottle. That was the cheaper bottle.
2. If you want to eat out, go to a boulangerie/ patisserie. Restaurants are at least 12 euros. A sandwich at a boulangerie is less than 5 and you can get other delicious things like quiche for even less.

At 7, the concert for 14 juillet started. Many French people had told me, the Johnny Hallyday was going to perform. They were all surprised that I had never heard of him. He’s apparently one of the most famous French singers. My friends and I actually liked, Christophe Mae, the opening act better; however, my French friend informed us that his music was for little kids. Finally, the famous Johnny sang. He appeared in a black sparkly jacket and had little tufts of blond high lights in his hair. Like a lot of French singers, he had his fair share of songs were he purred, but he also sang a fair number of American songs. I found it very funny when my French friend and I were singing “Give Me That Old Time Rock and Roll,” but the only words that matched up were “rock and roll.” The French were not particularly enamored of “Born to be Wild,” but they all sang along to a song whose chorus was “que je t’aime, que je t’aime, que je t’aime.” It sounds much catchier when sung.

The highlight of the evening was the fireworks show. The fireworks were extra special for the 120th anniversary of the Eiffel Tower and they were truly spectacular. My pictures unfortunately do not do it justice, but hopefully they give a general idea. These fireworks were bigger and more colorful. The show told the history of Paris and the Eiffel Tower using the fireworks and images on the Eiffel Tower. For example, to show the revolutions in 1968, the tower was covered in flowers and then a hammer came down on them, but the flowers kept coming back. At the same time, there were fireworks in rainbow colors coming out of the sides of the tower.

The entry for last weekend is coming. I promise. Now, here is my gallery of the Eiffel Tower throughout the day. Try not to get Eiffel Tower fatigue. It really is beautiful.

Quiching It Up: The French Version

This post is for everyone, but especially Angela, who was the driving force behind my less successful quiche project last winter.

Unfortunately for me, La Vigie doesn’t serve food on the weekends. For the previous three weekends, I’ve either visited people or made simple meals like pasta or soup from a container. This weekend, my friend, Mariko visited me from London and I wanted to give her a real French meal. My French friend, Anne-Constance, offered to cook one. As a result, we paid less and got to learn how to cook like the French.

We started with this whole mess of stuff that we got from the local supermarket. I’ll go through all the steps so that you all can get a sense of the amount of preparation that went into this meal and possibly find inspiration. First, we had to chop up all the vegetables for a ratatouille. These included peppers, eggplant, tomatoes, and zucchini. Anne-Constance took small pieces of onion and olive oil and cooked them in the pot before she added the vegetables. She then added salt and herbes de Provence, covered the pot, and let it simmer for the next two hours.




Next, we made the quiche. On top of the pastry shell that we bought at the supermarket, we added a level of slices of Gruyere cheese. In France, you can buy little pieces of ham called lardoons that are coated in fat. Anne-Constance fried these and put them on top of the cheese. She combined two eggs and the yolk of a third with sour cream and milk to make a mixture to pour on the quiche. She then sprinkled a layer of grated cheese on top.

In addition to the quiche, we also had an onion tart, which she improvised using the extra vegetables from the ratatouille, fried onion strips, and small pieces of Gruyere. Our meal also included cooked fennel, which is apparently a traditional French dish. You can buy a piece of fennel at a grocery store in France. It’s about as big as my two fists and has stalks coming out of it. To cook it, you cut off the stalks and then cut it into pieces about the size of an artichoke heart. It can then be sprinkled with olive oil and herbs and cooked in the oven.


This is what my dinner looked like. The little round circles are Lyonnais, which look like little white tubes when you buy them. They are made of potatoes and eggs. We cut them and fried them for a few minutes until they were brown. The green vegetable next to them is the fennel, the mess of vegetables is the ratatouille, and the yellow slice is the quiche.

Amazing as the dinner was, that was not the end of the evening. After dinner, we went down to the bank of the Seine and had bread, wine, and cheese. I’d been wanting to have a picnic along the Seine since I got here and it was just as fun as I thought it would be. As I’ve said before, on a balmy night in Paris, there are hoards of people promenading along the Seine. There are also boats, some with fancy parties that go up and down the river. One of them happened to pull up next to us and started to blare typical French music. It was just like a movie; even the soundtrack was right for the moment.


As for the bread and cheese, they are both so much better in France. At the supermarket, I was very resistant to buying four cheeses, but I’m glad my friends forced me. You’re supposed to have variety and they were all good in their own way. One of them was a small, sweet cheese that was covered in apricots. It’s so odd to have a sweet cheese with fruit, but even I enjoyed it. We had bought the bread at the local patisserie and when we got it, it was warm and fresh. I love bread, but fresh French bread is about the best bread I’ve ever tasted.

I wanted to devote this entry to the meal, but I promise that the next will cover where I went this weekend. There will be lots of pictures of Paris and lots more action.

Paris in a Cone

The title comes from a quote by my friend, Jackie, who pronounced it upon finishing an ice cream from Berthillon. This Sunday, Jackie, Maria, and I made the obligatory pilgrimage to Berthillon, which is reputed to be the best ice cream in Paris. Luckily for me, the island where I live is home to the Berthillon store, as well as a host of other restaurants that sell their ice cream.

I’d have to agree that Berthiilon does sell some of the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted. I spent two weeks in Paris with my family when I was little and we got their ice cream four tomes. Unlike a lot of the gelato places that are springing up all over the place, but especially in the Bay Area, the ice cream is slightly more old-fashioned. The flavors are mostly old classics, but they also have a variety of fruit ones. There is only one pure chocolate, so this Sunday, I went out on a limb and got pêche (peach) and mandarin (orange). If you know me, you’d realize that this is a true deviation from my typical behavior.

After we finished our ice cream, my two friends and I went to the Institut du Monde Arabe, which is a building just across the Seine from where I’m staying. Maria, who is an excellent travel companion because she knows something about every building, explained that the windows are designed to close when light shines on them. I unfortunately did not take a picture of them, but they were circular and the panels gradually shrink the diameter of the circle to close. We were able to really look at the windows, because the Insitut is absolutely free. We were also able to go all the way to the top and were rewarded by this lovely view of Paris.

In the course of our afternoon of wandering, we stumbled upon the Cimetière du Montparnasse where you can visit the graves of a number of famous people. This is the graves of Sartre and De Beauvoir, which for some strange reason, are covered with metro tickets.


By the way, I’m welcome to suggestions and comments. If there is anything that you’re curious about that I’m failing to describe, please let me know.


I thought this was an interesting grave.

To Scale the Highest Tower

For some odd reason, I decided that I had to go to the Bois de Vincennes this past weekend. Then, as I was researching the events for the weekend, I found out that they hold a jazz festival there during the summer. In my usual bossy manner, I was able to convince three other friends to accompany me, but I can safely say that they were glad they did.




For those of you who don’t know Paris, there are two giants bois (woods) on the outskirts of Paris. Vincennes, which is not far from where I work, is on the east side of the city, whereas the Bois de Boulogne is on the west. I am now resisting the urge to give a history lesson on the history of Paris. Instead, I’ll continue my own story.

My friends and I got out of the RER station and started walking to the Jardin Floral only to stumble upon a medieval fortress. France is so gratifying in this way. History is everywhere. Although the fortress looked intriguing, we decided to first picnic in the Jardin on the quiche and paella we got from a street vendor in Paris. Here are Emily and Maria with their French picnic.

Afterwards, we wandered around the bois, which is really pretty. There’s even a mini lake of water lilies. While we were taking photos of the flowers, a little boy fell in. He was completely nonplussed even though he was thoroughly drenched and just climbed out.

There Canadian geese were quite tame and quiet compared to the ones on the golf course at Forbes. As all my hall mates from last year know all to well, Canadian geese are one of my pet peeves.

In contrast to the jardin, the jazz festival was a complete let down. There was supposed to be two groups, but we only made it through the first 15 minutes of the first. It consisted of a quartet composed of a drummer, a bass player, a pianist, and the leader on coronet. The coronet was high and screechy, but almost tolerable until the guy started making wailing noises with his mouth. It got really unpleasant just to sit and listen, so we gave up and left.

At the Château de Vincennes, which is what the medieval fortress was really called, we learned that Charles V built the original building during the Hundred Years War. Dating from the 14th century, it is one of the oldest buildings I’ve ever seen. It even had a huge moat, which they used to throw garbage into when the chateau was in use. Now it’s completely empty, which allows you to see how deep it was back in the day. There’s also a chapel across from the donjon from the 16th century, but unfortunately it’s difficult to look at since they decided to put an exhibit of Bulgarian icons right in the middle of it.




Look at the first picture. We're on the very top of the donjon. Maria (on the left) and Julie (on the right) are both friends from Princeton.

The rest of the evening involved a visit to the Musée Quai Branley, which is a museum of art from the Americas, Africa, and Oceania. I thought they were going to have a special event with dishes from all over the world, but we rushed over there only to discover they were giving away apple sauce and rice cakes. Furthermore, we didn’t even get beyond garden where the food was to the actual museum, because they refused to let Maria, a friend from Princeton, and me in for free. Students from the EU get in free to every museum and Paris and the people at the chateau had been kind enough to include us as well. After our disappointment at the museum, we decided to finally go have a look at the Eiffel Tower, which is practically on top of the museum.

For those of you who don’t know Paris, there are two giants bois (woods) on the outskirts of Paris. Vincennes, which is not far from where I work, is on the east side of the city, whereas the Bois de Boulogne is on the west. I am now resisting the urge to give a history lesson on the history of Paris. Instead, I’ll continue my own story.
Contrary to certain texts I’ve read, you cannot see the Eiffel Tower from every place in Paris. Yet, it does have a tendency to just pop up in the most unexpected place. It is exciting to get close to it, because it is immense. At the same time, it’s a little frustrating, because there are so many people there and there are so many vendors trying to force you to buy a mini Eiffel Tower. I thought Saint Michel was touristy, but it’s nothing compared to this. In comparison, Vincennes wasn’t at all crowded. Even though I do want to see the touristy spots in Paris, I would like to make it more of a priority to find more out-of-the-way places.

By the way, Jenny wanted to make sure that I had escargot when I was in Paris. Last week when I went out for dinner, I got a chance to taste them when someone else ordered them. I would have to say that I did like them. I tend to like shellfish and they weren’t that different from a clam or a squid. I also ordered oysters last week. Almost every single café offers them here. They were slightly more fishy than I expected, but the taste goes away once you dose them in lemon and a vinegar sauce.

Summer Nights

I don’t think I realized that Paris would be this hot. The summer here is a real summer with temperatures that go into the 30s and lots of humidity. I’m still completely clueless about Celsius, but I have converted the weather in Celsius enough times that I know that 30 is in the high 80s. This is the summer we never get in San Francisco and the summer I escape from when I leave the East Coast. Although the weather transforms my commute into 40 minutes in a sauna (the metro and the RER are not air conditioned), it does lead to pleasant evenings promenading around the city. To top it off, the sun doesn’t even set here before 10, which makes evening jaunts all the more pleasant.


Every night this week, I’ve made it out of my foyer for at least a short stroll. Such is life without the burden of homework. At first it surprised me how many people are out at night. Even at 11, most of the restaurants are open and at least half full. Speaking of French restaurants, the government has just dropped the tax for restaurants from 19% to 5%. Hopefully, eating out will now be slightly more affordable. I think some of the restaurants are planning to drop prices.

On Monday and Tuesday, I was lucky enough to spend time with Aaron and Arthur, two friends from school whose families were vacationing in France. Even on Monday night when I went out to Montparnasse with Arthur’s family, this city was alive and buzzing. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but Paris runs a close second. It’s such a contrast to Princeton, which on a Monday night, or any night after 10 for that matter, is deader than Louis XVI ( I couldn’t resist).

The past two nights, I’ve gone out for walks with two of my friends from my foyer after dinner. We’ve taken to having the same type of endless dinners that I have at school where we just sit down to eat and various people come in and out. As I learned in my first two years of school, mealtime is one of the best times to meet new people.

This is me with my friends Anne-Constance and Emily. The photos in this entry are all courtesy of Emily. In the background is Notre Dame.

Wednesday night, my two friends and I walked all the way to the Tuileries as the sun set. We walked along the bank of the sun, which was completely packed. In addition to quite a few people who had chosen to picnic along the river, we came across musicians and a group of people dancing. There’s a small quintet that frequently plays on the Pont Saint Louis, the bridge that connects the Île Saint Louis where I live to the Île de la Cité. They perform old jazz classics and all the tourists going by stop to listen.

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On Sunday, I saw a car where the steering wheel was on the right, but the driver drove just as if it was on the left. Puzzled, I asked my British friend what her family does when they go to Europe. Apparently, they continue to drive their car, but on the other side of the road from how they would in England. This solution doesn’t seem particularly safe, but I guess it wouldn’t be possible or fair to stop every group of British tourists at the border and force them to give up their car.

Weekend Part II: The Louvre

The Louvre is one of the best museums in the world, but in some ways there’s just too much of it—too big, too many people, and too much to see. It’s the perfect recipe for premature museum fatigue, the point when you stop really looking the works of art you’re going by. I was looking forward to going to the Louvre, but it left me exhausted. Still, I saw quite a bit and I was definitely glad that I did have a chance to visit.

I started with the paintings from the Italian Renaissance, which is one of the most popular sections of the museum. There’s an entire hall allocated to the collection and it is filled with people. You cannot even get close to the Da Vincis. The Mona Lisa is in a room of its own and a crowd inevitably gathers around it to get a closer look. I happened to notice a painting of François I by Titian in the same room, which absolutely nobody was looking at. The man (François) was absolutely rotund.

My biggest problem with museums in today is that everyone brings their camera. I could not get through the Italian sculptures because there were people along the entire length of the gallery photographing the artwork. I am guilty of whipping out my camera at museums, but I have to say that it often diminishes my experience. Instead of looking at the art, I’m looking for a good picture. I made a successful effort this time to keep my camera in my bag.

That being said, I did get a lot out of my visit. I decided to go to the objets d’art collection next, which is made up of pottery, tapestries, swords, and other historical objects that I would probably consider crafts. There’s even a crystal cup that belonged to my beloved Eleanor of Aquitaine. This area is not as heavily visited and you can actually get up close and personal with a suit of armor the belonged to Henry II of France. The armor they have in the museum is incredibly detailed—in some cases there are entire scenes on the breastplate—but seems slightly impractical for actual warfare. I was also very impressed by the crockery from the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. There are giant plates with intricate floral designs that some person had to draw by hand. It must have taken forever.

I also made a visit to the Egypt section, which was not that crowded considering how popular Egyptain artifacts can be. I was initially startled at the lack of mummies until I walked up a staircase and found a room lined with sarcophagi. Further on, I discovered the mummified pets. The mummified cats look like stuffed socks, but the mummified alligator looked like a real alligator.

Given the immense size of the Louvre, I have a feeling I saw less than half of the museum’s collection. I hope that I will go back during my stay, but perhaps not during the summer.

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I'm not sure what they were after here. I just find it funny.