Because I Have No Camera...

So the last few days have been quite nice, low-key but full of learning and camaraderie. Our friend Grayson happened to be staying with us before she heads off to India for a few months. My friend Sasha who is also studying here is a good friend of Grayson's (as well as an amazing photographer). She said I could post some of her pictures, and I think they perfectly capture the simple beauty of the last few days.

Grayson made us a beautiful meal of tomato, mozzarella and basil salad, toasted baguette with goat cheese, honey and raisins and then goat cheese and spinach wrapped with fried eggplant. Amazing.

View of my room from the living room.

The next day started at 11am at my apartment, where I made omelettes for everyone. I've learned how to make the perfect french style omelette and I am very proud of it, I've always found eggs hard to get just right. Sasha and I had our Paris Monuments and Political Power class at 1pm, but Thursdays we visit monuments, and this time it was the Pantheon. The buiding is right around the corner from my house, maybe 5 minutes walk. It's been a church, then secular temple devoted to the great men of France, then a church again, then secular, too many times to count (look up pictures of the building, I'm not going to taint this post with anything other than Sasha's amazing photos). We headed there at about 1pm.

That hand is that of amazing Christina Von Koehler, the smartest professor in all of Paris. And though I can't be sure, she looks as though she has the softest skin in the city as well.

View of our apartment from the courtyard

That night was more of the same, wine and talk and general easy good time. Then Benj, Molly and Grayson headed off to Amsterdam! What fun. And since I know you now want to see more of Sasha's photos of Paris, her blog is 'Hour of Departure' linked there on the right.

Eiffel with an E

Mondays and Tuesdays I have class starting at 9am, then two strange breaks between my three classes of the day. I end up not leaving our beautiful little campus until 7:45pm, after my last class on those evenings.

But I don't mind walking through the Passy neighborhood at night. Each week I've noticed it getting darker and colder, and it's coming out of those classes at that time of day and weather that reminds me that winter is coming. I like winter.

BUT HERE IS MY FAVORITE PART. The bridge that I either ride my bike or take the metro over crosses the Seine very close to la Tour Eiffel. And at 8pm when I am crossing, they light her up, and it is a spectacular show. It is flashy (literally blinking) and tacky and JUST RIGHT. It also happens to be my favorite part of that tower.

You know who it reminds me of?

Which is why I love it.

Sister, Sister, He's Just a Play-Thing, We Wanna Make Him Stay Up All Night

Above are lyrics from one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, and here's I love it and it is relevant:

First of all, because it is about babies. I love 'em and I want one. And let me tell you, they do babies well here in Paris. Actually, kids in general. They dress them well and if they need glasses when they are four or five, they don't mess around. Little round red frames. Imagine the American Girl Doll Molly's glasses, but in red. So cute!

Secondly, I miss my family so it is a shout out to my sis, Annie.

Thirdly, because I like to stay up late. Which brings me to last Saturday evening, Nuit Blanche in Paris. It translates literally to "white night," but in French that is the term for an all-nighter, for a sleepless night. Don't know why. *PAUSE* Just did some research and I think it might be in reference to 'white nights' in places of high latitude where the sun is out all night. But anyway, the french Nuit Blanche:

It is a huge arts festival meant for community building here in Paris. Museums stay open until 7am, they have exhibitions all around the city and the young and old of Paris take to the streets for the fête, for the soirée, for the festival, for the party. Right in my neighborhood there was a bunch of stuff, I live right around the corner from a fine arts college. Plus in the park by house they had a 25 foot disco ball (what?!) hanging from a crane above the fountain.

After a little pre-party in my courtyard, my friends and I decided to go to a few bars and make our way to another neighborhood that had stuff going on. We did make it to the bar, then to another, then beautiful Erin and I decided to split off and go with her two french friends while the other 3 went another way. Our time at the next place (a club) lasted about 2 minutes, Erin and I split.

What to do? FRENCH ONION SOUP of course. Erin and I sat down and watched the crowds. This would seem like the end, as everyone was wearing out. Our other friends ended up having Metro troubles and ended up going home, as did Erin. But on my way walking home, I figured, why not just keep going?

My first impromptu stop was the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg with the HUGE disco ball. It was absolutely dazzling and lit up the entire surrounding neighborhood. By the time I got there, about 4am, there was no line to get into the park, but it was still full enough to enjoy the atmosphere and the many people hanging out.

There was also a huge dream carousel, like those things one might put next to a child's bed. I sat in those wonderful moveable chairs in the garden for a while and watched that. But then I went home.

And as I was walking up the stairs, I said to myself WHY NOW? I poured myself some more wine, then went around the corner where I proceeded to watch a woman strategically command 6 record players playing bird calls, changing the timing and record to make the sound into music in the courtyard of the school. She had a rack of clothes on the back of the platform which I thought was a little curious, but for some reason completed her scenic design.

I sat there on the edge of a fountain listening to and watching her for about 45 minutes. Every once in a while she would look at me or another person nearby after making sure a record was playing right at the moment she wanted. Her face said 'that is the right spot, no argument.' She was a stern and focused woman of 50, and had her character for the performance down.

After that 45 minutes she grabbed a dress of the rack, having never acknowledged them until that point. Absolutely thrilling. She reset two more records and left the stage. There was no way I could leave now. Would she come back having changed from her cream colored Chanel-esque suit into the long black silk dress with the large flower on her breast?

I could only wait, which I did. For twenty minutes. I gave her five more minutes to return. After that five, I granted her five more. Then I did it again. After 35 minutes she returned to her work, no differently than before, except for the black dress. I loved it.

I had an amazing Saturday night both with my friends, then roaming alone until 7am. But of course that lead to a very short Sunday for Evan.

My Dream Job is Gone

Condé Nast has decided to cease to publish Gourmet Magazine, the favorite of all my bathroom reading material and the publication that was going to start my very secret career plan. The last issue will be November.

This post is dedicated to Alexis Touchet (touché!). I do not know her personally, but she is the wife of an amazing teacher I had freshman year and was Senior Food Editor for the magazine. Every month when I picked up my copy, I would first turn to the contributors page to view that amazing name of hers and then I would proceed to read the recipes and travel the gastronomical world with them. I promise to follow Alexis and Ruth Reichl wherever they go.

I joined the group on Twitter to save the magazine (you could too, for me), but I am coming to terms with it.

This cover from June 2009 has been the background to my American cell phone since I recieved it in the mail. It makes me so hungry whenever I call anyone!

At least we got the recipe for the peach and champagne popsicles before it all ended, Mom.

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!