This Proves My Terrible Memory

I don't know how this happened, but I forgot my password to this blog for the last week. I changed it somehow, but I still have no idea what it might have been. Thank god for security questions (though I am surprised I remembered the answers for those).

The event that I have been most excited about since my time in France was this last Friday. It was a free trip through NYU (only cost me 3 1/2 years of tuition to finally get something free) to Vaux-le-Vicomte. This is the palace that Versailles was based on. We took buses in the morning, enjoyed the château, had a free 3 course meal, then enjoyed the gardens for a while before being shipped back to Paris.

I had heard one of my wonderful professors, Christina Von Koehler, who knows everything about everything history, was going to give a tour. So as we walked in, I asked her. She said "No, but I will be around if you have any questions." She then proceded to walk with me and tell me all about every room until it became an unofficial NYU tour. When we got to the bell tower, she admitted her fear of heights and could not continue. But lo and behold, when I descended 10 minutes later, she was there waiting, and we recommenced the tour.

At our 10 person table at lunch there was an extra seat next to me, which she eventually occupied. We drank wine and talked. She is one of the best story tellers I have ever encountered, and funny. And she knows her dates.

The château itself was built by Nicholas Fouquet, who was a minister of finance. He got these great designers and artists and gardeners and built himself this amazing place. It is funny too because in some old french dialect his last name meant squirrel, so they put them all over the house. When it was just about finished he had party to show it off, which turned out to be a mistake.

Louis XIV was young and new at the king thing and of course dint wanna git dun like dat. So 3 weeks later they arrested Fouquet and didn't allow him council or a pen the entire time before his trial, so he pretty much had to represent himself and all his financial dealings for France by himself from memory. He died in jail 19 years later. Meanwhile Louis XIV took all his builders, gardeners and artists and pretty much said 'same thing but bigger and better and closer to Paris.' Thus, Versailles was born.

My other favorite part was a little tidbit of info about the landscape designer André Le Nôtre eventually went from a gardener to a noble because of his work. So when your family is marked as nobility, you must have a crest. He chose his crest to be a head of a cabbage and 3 snails. He was funny for a gardener.

In the garden I snuck into an overgrown garden with broken greenhouses and an old well, which was cool, but I had to walk for a bit. When I finally reached another gate I saw some friends on the other side, realized I was trapped because it was locked and had to walk all the way back...

I really liked the place, and though I have not been inside the Palace of Versailles, I would say this is a great alternative. We were practically the only people there (never the case at Versailles) and the story of the building is interesting and it was designed by the same people. Plus the staff is relaxed and wouldn't mind if I had set down a picnic just about anywhere. I also like the fact that some of it remains unfinished, it gave me a better sense of the immense amount of work it takes.

Oh also, Tony Parker and Eva Longoria got married there. Cassandra and I thought about it, but decided to just take this picture instead.

Assortments

In my craving for candy two days ago, I realized something while standing there heavily weighing my options in the aisle. I do not want to tie myself down to one candy. It does not matter how much I love that candy, I want variety. It is, in fact, the spice of life. I decided to go with the Haribo 'World Mix' which is a varied assortment of many of their products in one bag.

There were candies that I liked okay, some that I loved and some that I hated. But that's the fun of it. And I'm gonna be really frank here, but if you don't save your favorite flavor for last, then you are just an idiot. Because even when there is a piece of candy you don't like, there is always the opportunity for redemption. Renewed excitement. The bag of candy is not some monotonous sit-down, it is an exciting story, up on it's feet, and it's wearing rocket shoes.

This is the same when it comes to meals for me. My plate better have at least 3 things on it, all edible separately, but better when I get to construct my bite. Let's say the sun-dried potato out-shined the salmon on that last bite. Okay, so this time maybe we just go with salmon, part of that grilled tomato and a little acidity from the sauce. Tasting menus are my favorite, and if I could always, I would alway.

Maybe this inability to sit there and shovel mashed potatoes in my mouth bite after bite says something more general about me as a person. Who knows? I don't care, I'm not doing it.

Peanuts five ways by Grant Achatz (James Beard Best Chef in America 2008) at Alinea in Chicago.

Something to Punder

So I love puns and I never miss an opportunity to make one, even in French, like I did yesterday in class. And in case you don't know, I even have an entire Twitter account dedicated to punny boat names:

http://twitter.com/LetsNameBoats

Anyway, today in class during the break right before our test we were talking about this bar Pop-In which is near Popincourt. Pun, okay, fine. After talking about this particular pun in more detail, someone posed this question: Do puns exist in nature, even when not recognized?That is just the kind of question I love to ponder and discuss, so I tried to keep the conversation going.

Most agreed that puns exist in nature, I was the only one who eventually disagreed, and so I eventually gave up because I couldn't deal with what was growing to be not discussion, but argument. In thinking about it more today (and getting a little worked up about it during my test), I am positive I am correct.

Puns do not exist in nature if not recognized by humans.

A pun must have intention. Most of the time puns are supposed to be funny or to make one ponder. A pun is literally a play on words and 'to play' is an action. That means there is inherently intention behind it. A pun is a concept, an idea, something entirely created. The same can be said of written language in general, and without language, alas, no puns.

Someone very aggressively asked me if before humans discovered the liver, if it meant we did not have a liver. This is when I decided to concede, because the argument is entirely different. A liver is physical, a pun is conceptual.

We could get really messy and start to talk about metaphysics, but do we really want to in a blog post? I sure don't.

The Opera

Tonight was my first opera. I have a wonderful roommate Molly, whose grandfather was in town for a few days and refers to opera as "the highest form of art." He treated us to The Barber of Seville at the Opéra Bastille. It was a totally new experience for me, for many reasons. The pressure of being a part of such an audience is immense. First of all, we were Americans in France seeing an Italian opera that is set in Spain.I understand none of those things, except mainly how to be American. Luckily I read a plot synopsis before I went.

In my opinion opera culture is a different world. I am not going to say it is a lost art, but it most definitely one which has it's niche market. As much as theatre is not an art form for the masses anymore, opera is even more so. I hear about little new opera, everything seems to be classics in repertoire. Not to say that is a bad thing. When that famous overture started tonight I got chills. The amazing recognition I have for these pieces, never even having seen any is amazing. But as I was sitting there watching this piece of art from 1816, I wondered what makes an opera popular and lasting.

I think the opulence of the art form has a great deal to do with its reputation. Even at the point where I gave up trying to read the french subtitles and abandoned the story, I was amazed by the sets and costumes and grandeur (confidence?) of the actors. When Rosina tore apart her guardian's room in a fit of fury, it was too long, felt to calculated and just seemed absolutely ridiculous. But what made me lean forward was this performer's total devotion and non-doubting attitude that it just HAD to be done.

I will say, I think that this production tried to do some different

things, even though we didn't understand it. Though it was set in 1400 moorish Spain, at the end the main character tore off his jacket and had on a modern soccer jersey. He was tossed a ball by a chorus person and fumbled with his opera singer feet to try handle it. Funny and I am guessing referential. If only us Americans new anything about all of Spanish history, especially current 'football' news.

I have class early tomorrow, but there is more about the night that I must get to! Goodnight!

My Life in France

I just started My Life in France by Julia Child. I took my bike and book to the Luxembourg Gardens, because it is a beautiful day.

I thank my good friend for giving me this book, it is exactly what I want to read right now. But not when I am hungry. So far it is her move to Paris with her husband from the US, and her quickly falling in love with the city. She is so optimistic and has a great sense of humor, and truly wants to learn about this new culture. So romantic. Also, her love for her husband is beautiful. This is why she wanted to learn to cook at start, so she could feed her husband all the wonderful foods he enjoyed.

This is the description of her first meal in France:

I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a fork full of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter. I chewed slowly and swallowed.

And it is reminding me so much of my dream to cook, to learn true French cooking. Man, I feel like Julie Powell right now. But I think I must put off seeing Julie/Julia until I am done reading this.

The new plan is a to get a good reputation as a food writer and then eventually get my own Alton Brown style cooking show. I love that man. These are my dreams people, these are my dreams.

My First Time Wasn't Great

I wasn't going to admit this, but I might as well since it turned out pretty well.

So I bought this bike, you see. I got it from a little second hand store right up the street. They aren't a bike shop or anything, so I wasn't expecting anything really fine tuned. Well there was a cute little one bike that I liked and that was one of the best there, so I bought it. The back brakes weren't great and it made some noises, but hey, it's a pretty simple machine, I can work out the kinks.

I rode to school on Tuesday with my new bike and a lot of courage. I mapped out a route that was quick and had bike paths and I was set. Please understand that the campus of NYU Paris is in the 16th arrondissement on the top of a pretty large hill. Not even a hill, but highlands. So once I cross the Seine (yeah the Eiffel Tower is just to my right), it is that final burst before the finish line. Well I stopped at maybe the steepest part of my journey to look at the map. I must turn left, uphill. So with all my might I SLAM down on the pedal to get started again...

My bike breaks, because that is happen when you are close to a destination and have a certain time you must be there. I take a quick look and I notice the chain is off. No big deal, I fix it and try to proceed. Then I notice the wheel is crooked and rubbing and very strangely off, but I don't know why. Well I was in a time crunch, so I walked my bike to school (while holding the back wheel off the ground) another 12 minutes.

The last two days I have left it at school, wondering how much it would be to get it fixed and where I would go. And hoping and hating it and wishing and sometimes regretting ever buying it.

Well today I took control. I folded my bike in half (yeah it does that) and took it to my friend's house who has a big tool box. I know how a bike works and once I went on a bike trip from the top to the bottom of Michigan in 9 days, so I can get the wheel off myself! Again, a bike is a simple machine and I am good with tools and I refuse to pay any more money.

Well, SUCCESS! I fixed my bike. My hands were dirty, I was sweaty, and I'm sure the bolts weren't happy, but it is done. I even tightened my back brakes, fixed my lights and a part of the petal that was making a strange noise. All I needed was a little elbow grease.

So then I rode home on my bike from my friend's house.

On another note, biking is tiring.

Nights Out

So I have been going out a fair amount at night, trying to find those places that suit me but won't force me to eat ramen for a week. There is talk about French people being mean or hating Americans, but that is simply not true. I have met SO many great Parisians while out at night. The only people who I find to be bitchy or seem entitled are other Americans who have been here for while. Isn't that funny? Are they trying to take on the stereotypical French attitude since they now live here?

Some of my favorite activities so far have been a boat party on the Seine, I wore a bow-tie and it was a hit. The French really love my bow-ties or "noeud-papillon" which translates to butterfly knot. There was an open air bar on the top and then two floors down a DJ and a hoppin' club.

Then there is La Pop-In. First of all, I think that name is hilarious, since it is in the neighborhood of Popincourt. Secondly, it's kind of a hip, cheap, dive bar. For my friend in New York, like Blue Gold Bar but twice the split into 4 levels, one being a downstairs dance club. And much more social.

I also end up at La Perle a lot, which is more a of a cafe/bar that spills out onto the street and has cool crowd, but a little older around 25-30. The other night when I was there a guy came up to me and told me he liked my look (another bow-tie) and asked me to be in scene that takes place in an art gallery in his movie. He said it is the last day of shooting, so there will be a wrap party after. I mean, it's not like I have too many commitments here in Paris, so yeah, I'll stand around and drink wine and look at art and then go to a party after. I just better remember what I wore that night and then wear the same thing, because I don't trust my sense of style that much...

Le Lardon Flu

I call it Lardon (Bacon) Flu because I forgot what pig is in french and I just haven't looked it up. Plus I see a lot more bacon throughout my week than live pigs.

H1N1 is serious business here at New York University Paris. In every one of our orientation meetings they have talked about it. I don't know how true this is, but I heard that the hype is kind of dying down in the US, but apparently that specualtion has made it to France. In every classroom inside the door there is antibacterial hand sanitizer. There are different trash cans with lids for gloves and masks. So is it still big in America? Honestly comment, want know.

And I wish this were a joke but the first day of french class the first word my teacher taught us was sneeze (éntenuer), followed by cough (tousser). Then she told us to not even think about coming to class if we did either of those things.

Then yesterday as I took a little nap, I found it really hard to take a sleep because I was sure I coming down with the symptoms. Every time I cough I worry.

The point of this post is to let you know that NYU Paris is good at making their students feel cared about, academically capable, and turning them into hypochondriacs.