Hip-Hop Failure

This is not really Parisian, but it was hilarious.

Tonight, I go to a hip-hop dance class with a few friends at a dance studio near my apartment. The class is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone is wearing baggy pants, huge white t-shirts, and then there's me with my leggings and tank top...as soon as we walk in, the instructor shouts, "Oh hello! Where do you live in the United States?"  New York City, or London have become my standard response to strangers who ask me where I'm from now. I saw New York, appropriately some of the members in the class are wearing New York apparel, including one of those "I Heart NYC" shirts. The instructor is this crazy looking guy who makes fun of me the entire class, mostly for my awkwardly loud girly laugh. He turns on some music, and everyone seems to know what they're doing except us. The instructor shouts random things out, sometimes in french sometimes in english, I don't know what he says but he just starts moving wildly, waving his arms in every different direction, zig-zagging back and forth, sliding left and right, up and down, God knows how we're going to be able to do all of this. And I can't do it, it's just too much coordination for me. So I spend the entire class jumping up and down whenever I feel like it, trying to appear like I might know what I'm doing when in fact I really really don't. I know I'm never going to get it, so I might as well have fun with it. I run into some of the other people with my sporadic motions, they don't look too happy. I don't really care...the dance is too confusing, the "un, deux, trois, quartre, cinq" routine is getting to me, the instructor won't stop yelling, everyone is so good at this somehow...my friends rave over the class, they love it, they're going to sign up for the 10 class package deal or whatever. That's great and all but I, on the other hand, will just stick with running.

http://www.youtube.com/user/JPChandlerHipHopClas#p/a/u/1/GaTuUuQR_L0

Sacre Coeur

Two views from my room, one from the afternoon and another one from the morning. The majestic-looking basilica is Sacre Coeur, a famous Parisian landmark. Waking up to this in the morning is incredible.

Finalement

It's about time this happened -  I'm running in Parc Monceau as usual, and I run smack into a tiny child. I slam into him hard and kn

ock him to the ground. I can't hear him because of the music from my iPod. I stop for a split second to check and see if he's alive. He's sitting on the ground but stands up quickly. He stares at me, with a kind of look that says "how could you do this to me?" but in French, obviously. I feel bad so I say "Sorry!" which of course he doesn't understand, I should have said "Desolee!" The poor boy brushes himself off and I high-tail it out of there like it's some kind of hit-and-run. 

Also, finally finally finally! I indulge in steak-frites which is exactly what it says it is - steak and fries. The restaurant, l'Entrecote, is apparently famous in Paris. The sauce that comes on the steak is a bit pesto-y and out of this world good. And even better, the waitress comes back and serves us more steak, and MORE fries after we've finished our first plate. No meal is complete without seconds. The fries are thinly sliced - hot and crisp - just how they should be. If I have a downfall, it's french fries.

Le Baguette, Le Brasserie

Today I see a crushed baguette in the metro train tracks. I am sad. I think, the baguette has been wasted, who could have the audacity to simply toss such a wonderful gastronomical creation into the dirty tracks? Injustice.

Tonight I feast on french food - i dont think anything could make me happier. I have two glasses of house red wine, delicious, and crusty french bread, also delicious. Then my entree, or as the french call it, le plat (ironically, l'entree is the appetizer), arrives - du saumon cuit et mashed potatoes with olive oil - good lord, i'm in heaven. Salmon and potatoes is one of my favorite combinations of flavors so this plate strikes gold. it's incredible, what can i say, i'm sitting in a french brasserie in Paris, oh shit yes i am. And it only gets better - dessert arrives, ice cream with maybe 5 gallons of hot chocolate fudge sauce. There is just so much chocolate, and I don't have a problem with that at all. And what I love most is that my friends and I are at the restaurant for 2 hours, not 30 minutes. We sit and enjoy our wine, enjoy our food...that's how eating should be, a savored, otherworldly experience! 

Un Crepe Nutella, La Tour Eiffel, ce sont bons

-Nutella is already amazing on its own, and when spread inside a warm crepe, it's unbelievable

-One of my roommates is terrified of birds, especially pigeons. The pigeons here in Paris are like the ones in NYC, they aren't afraid of anything and don't move out of your way.

-The weather in Paris is bipolar. One minute it will look like the storm of the century, and another minute the sun will be shini

ng and the sky clear. As a result, I'm never wearing the right clothes.

-I'm wondering if I'm going to get tired of eating jambon et fromage sur un baguette everyday, I don't think i will

-If you go to a boulangerie and ask for "un cafe" you won't get coffee, you'll get espresso. You can get what the french call "cafe americain" at Starbucks

-Apparently you can take the stairs to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, where there's a fantastic view of Paris. I think I may like it better than the view from the Tour Eiffel.

-I love grocery shopping in Paris, especially in the extensive wine section...

-There's a plaza near the Trocadero that offers the best view of the Tour Eif

fel I've found in Paris. The Tour is so majestic and impressive, truly an icon of Parisian culture. It's a nice area, except for the illegal salesmen who are walking around trying to sell you illegal overpriced souvenirs, like the rip-off "I LOVE PARIS" t-shirts - that's "I LOVE NY" and nothing else.

-A baguette, cheese and a glass of red wine is now my favorite snack...uh oh...

Vin et Fromage, c'est la vie

It's 18:00 H and I'm sitting at the table in my apartment, staring out the window at Place de Clichy. I'm drinking a glass of Bordeaux Cabernet Savignon and eating the rest of my baguette I bought earlier. I also have my Camembert, altering bites with sips of wine. Why don't we do this in the U.S. as often, if ever? It's so relaxing, just to enjoy the flavors and how they combine with each other -  kind of reminds me of an artist's palette - splashed with colors, each one running into the next one, creating new hues and shades you never imagined...but of course! Eating is an art, is it not (hence the metaphor)?

I'll be honest, before I came to Paris, I didn't really care for wine. I didn't hate it, it just wasn't my drink of choice (Smirnoff Ice, anyone?). But that has all changed...the wine here is nothing like what I have experienced before - it's so cheap, maybe 4 or 5 euro, and is almost always decent. And the combination of wine and cheese, don't even get me started...as of now, I'm loving President Camembert, which is a soft, creamy cheese similar to Brie. It's not as rich as Brie, which can be a bit heavy. 

Musee d'Orsay

The Musee d'Orsay is clearly my favorite art museum in Paris, and probably the entire world. And after taking a class last semester on French impressionism, I am in love with artists such as Manet, Courbet, Pissarro, Monet, Van Gogh...and to see the paintings that I studied in person is an experience unmatched by anything else. 

I'm a giddy child - with this wild ecstatic look in my eye as I wander through the galleries of the d'Orsay. I weave in and out of the crowds, darting across each room, feeling more awake than ever. First I see Seurat's Cirque. I bring my face 3 inches in front of the painting and marvel at the seemingly effortless brush strokes. I run past the crowd in front of Van Gogh's famous self portrait and Monet's Rouen Cathedral series and I almost miss it - my favorite Manet painting, The Asparagus. The painting is small and obscure, most would probably not give it the attention it deserves. Though the painting appears to be just a small white asparagus, it's so much more! I look as closely as I can and see the colors of blue, green, purple, pink all together -

 who'd have thought an

asparagus could be all of those colors? I'm practically dizzy from excitement. It's a strange sight I am sure, a girl staring intently at a tiny painting of an asparagus. 

And after I see Manet's other masterpieces - Olympia, Deujeuner sur l'Herbe, and Courbet's ridiculously massive works - Burial at Ornans and the Artist's Studio, I have to take a break. My senses are overwhelmed and I'm on some kind of ecstatic drug trip, my head feels like it's exploding -  a definitively holy experience. 

Running in Paris

Before I go to Paris I have this notion that running outside is some kind of "faux-pas." Of course I am devastated, as running is one of my favorite ways to explore new areas. And moreover, my track coach back at Hopkins is depending on me to be in somewhat decent shape when i return...but nevertheless, I decide to go for a run this morning anyway. I'm not sure what to wear, as I don't want to draw too much attention to myself, so I decide on the classic parisian all-black look. I also make sure to carry my cell phone, my apartment keys and of course pepper spray. Better safe than sorry...

My first step is finding a park. From my apartment in Montmartre (8th arr.) I discover that the closest park is Parc Monceau, near the Champs Elysees. I realize that Parc Monceau is the name of the Monet painting that hung in my room all year at Hopkins...it's a picturesque little park, covered in trees and pathways lined with wooden green benches. Immediately I see an ocean of people running, everywhere, all different speeds, young and old. I jump in and speed along, dodging left and right trying not to hit anyone. I'm exhilarated as I think I'm running, in Paris, in a park. In Paris! For some reason everything sounds better with the words "in Paris" tacked on the end (i fell in love...in Paris, I drank some wine...in Paris...see?)....after about 30 minutes I catch a glmpse of the Arc de Triomphe down the street, doesn't look too far so I leave the park and head towards it. Obviously the Arc is huge, so it's much farther than I thought. I end my run when i finally get to it and stare in awe. 

So running in Paris, nothing like what I thought...which is comforting because with all of the nutella and bread i'm eating, and all the red wine i'm drinking, running will be a must.