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Getting My Coffee To-go, Since 1983.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
 
Conversation in a Hostel
"So are you both Canadian?"
"No, I'm from San Francisco, actually. Where did you fly in from?"
"New Jersey." -pause-
"My geography of the East Coast is kind of..."
"It's next to New York."
"Oh, okay." -pause- "But it's, like, its own state, right? It's not in New York?"
"Yeah."

- posted by roger @ 12:32 PM (2) comments
 
Further Adventures en français
Minus money for my hostel, I have 30€ for the next two days. Which wouldn't be a problem except: a)I'd like to go out at night, and b)I don't want to feel like a douche for wasting my time in Paris. The issue is less going over budget (but I'm pretty spot on), but running out of cash. My hostel takes cash only. Anyway, where was I?

On Monday morning, I got up early to go to the Louvre. My plan was to spend all day there, getting the greatest bang for my buck. Especially because the Louvre is open late on Mondays & Wednesdays. Or at least so I thought. And so Michelle thought. But I got to the Louvre, and it turned out the late days were Wednesdays & Fridays. So I left the museum a little disappointed. Instead, I walked over to the Centre Pompidou (Beaubourg), and I spent some time there. I've come to the conclusion that I don't really like modern art. I mean, I can make myself spend time there, and I can be mildly amused, but I never find it that awesome. The exposition was interesting, though. Instead of focusing on a single artist or medium, they selected a theme of "the Big Bang," which emphasized the idea of how creation and destruction are intertwined. From there, there were subcategories, like "sex" or "war," then sub-subcategories, like "mirrors" or "empty," which occupied a single room. And there would be sculpture, painting, photogrpahy, video, music, etc as needed. It was kind of cool, even if a lot of it was innately off-putting.

After the Beaubourg, I went to the Musée de Cluny, which is Paris's center for medieval art. Its focal point is its set of tapestries, The Lady and the Unicorn, but there were a bunch of interesting things to see. The museum site was a church, I think, built on Gall-Roman baths. So in the museum, both are visible.

When I finished, I went back to the apartment to relax a bit, before going to meet Mosh at her friend's place. I was supposed to get there at 9:30; I walked in about 10:40. And they had gotten done with class an hour earlier than they expected. So I was really, really late. Part of it was bad planning/bad metro, part of it was this insane code that Mosh left me to get into the apartment building. The code was 12A48, and she required a different knowledge base for each number. The "A" was a throwaway, given as "alpha." But the riddle went like this:


This situation's kind of precarious. It's only within the last few years that I've stopped incorrectly mailing Janet at house #2. The next two were fine. Then, the chinese. See, my chinese isn't great. Mosh had written it perfectly clearly, but I originally saw it as a box around a chinese '8.' Then, the second digit of my birthday. I wasn't sure if she was considering my birthday to be 0m-dd-yy, m-dd-yy, or maybe she meant birthdate, so it was dd? What was the second number? In the end, it didn't matter, because she incorrectly thought my birthday was on the 18th. And some woman entering the building let me in, even though I was clearly just mashing the buttons.

Anyway, it was Chris's apartment, and Mosh and Kyle were the only others there. They fed me some fish, rice, and chicken. Whenever I write about people, I try to assume that they will eventually read it. And since Mosh's classmates have her contact info, there's a chance they'll get here from her site. So it's not a bad assumption. Let's just say that Chris is cool, he laughs a lot, we don't know what his primary source of income is, and he has massive upper arms. He does mountaineering. Onto the next day.

On Tuesday, I apparently didn't get up until rather late. I met Mosh after her class go out, around 5:30pm. We went over to the Parc André Citroën with the intention of going up in a hot air balloon. We found a small patch of grass near the entrace of the park, where we split a slice of quiche and chewed the fat. It was a nice moment of laying back, staring at the sky, and discussing our lives. Sufficiently relaxed, we wandered until we found the hot air balloon, but it was closed for "storm possibilities," which was a bit of a crock. But we amused ourselves in a section of the park that I believe translated to "Garden of Shadows." The plant life was varied but always tall, and there were many grassy nooks, some with low square benches, perfect for making out. Some spots were clearly isolated enough that you could probably get away with sex. Almost everyone there was in pairs, so it's quite possible. Mosh and I were on a date again.

We went to the Parc Monceau, which had a popular jogging loop and many folies. Follies are bits of random decorations. So there was a small pyramid, many statues, a pagoda-like lamppost, and a stone bridge. As lovely and popular as the park cas, we both preferred the Parc André Citroën, which felt much less manicured. Also, not only did its flora hide things from sight, but they also hid sounds, making it feel quite private. It's admirable, however, how much use the Parisiens get out of their many parks and gardens.

On the way back to Mosh's apartment, we stopped at Bangkok Café, which was clearly not heavily touristed. We were even asked how we had heard about it (my Let's Go). Mosh started with a papaya salad, and I had a seafood soup. Then I think she had curried chicken, and I ate beef sautéed with Thai flavorings. We were ordering from the same set menu. For dessert, Mosh had fresh mango, and I had "black rice" with coconut milk. I've had the rice in Taiwan; it's a deep purple, sticky, and often used for desserts. I don't remember what I was told the english name was,but "black rice" was the translation of the french. We traded halfway through, and I think we both enjoyed both desserts.

The next day, I got up sometime after Mosh had left for class (again), and I went to the Louvre. I spent about eight hours there. My legs were tired after 2.5. I splurged on the audio guide, but I would sometimes snot, "are you still talking? omg," and walk to the next display. Which is why I thought th audio guide was better than a tour: self-pacing. Despite eight hours there, I didn't even walk past everything. I saw maybe a third of the museum with decent depth. And it was hard to remember that the building itself was also really another exhibit unto itself.

After a full day of gawking and sighing while sitting, I went to meet Michael (mee-kah-ELL), who I like to refer to as my French boyfriend. Which has two problems: he's 31, and he lives in France. But he's cute, and I've had a lovely time with him, and he really deserves his own entry.

I've stopped and started this entry multiple times because I needed to exchange dollars to pay for my hostel. And the nearby exchange bureau that I like is closed on Saturdays, so it involved a Metro ride (I have a weeklong pass). There's nothing like wandering around Paris, trying to get Euros, while intensely needed to take a dump.

Anyway, these are my two favorite places to change money, because of their good rates. And I feel good about recommending them, because I think the first one is the exact same one we liked in 2000. The first is by the Louvre, near the intersection of St-Honoré and Jean Jacques Rousseau. If you turn down St-Honoré from Rue du Louvre, it's on the left. No commission, no fees, and a tight split between buy and sell prices. but it's only open 10-6, M-F. The other place is by the St-Michel metro stop. Also commission free. Standing at the fountain, facing the Seine, it's on the left side of the road. As an example, they were buying dollars at 0.76€ today and yesterday. Yesterday, the Louvre exchange bureau was giving 0.785€. Changing $100, it's about the difference of a crêpe.

I might head to Père-Lachaise today, not because of intense interest, but it's free. I'll be sure to let you know.

- posted by roger @ 11:47 AM (0) comments
Thursday, August 25, 2005
 
I Am So Over Paris
So I've done a lot of things, to the point that I'm not sure what to do with the remainder of my time here. I'm sure I'll think of something. Anyway, here's a quick litany of things I've done from Saturday morning through last night (Wednesday), so you can skim ahead to anything that particularly interests you.


On Saturday, Mosh had class from noon to 6pm, so we only had the morning to spend. We spent it at the Catacombes, which I have wanted to see since backpacking through Paris in 2000. We didn't get to see it then. But this time I did, and they were perfectly creepy. After going down an impossibly long spiral staircase (you can't see how far down they go, so it's easy to get dizzy while watching the few steps ahead of you), there is a long, damp corridor. The walls are made of stone, but it's still kind of oog-y. And part of it was that the ceiling was low enough to make me feel like I had to stoop down, even though I didn't necessarily have to. Anyway, you eventually get to the section of bones, where everything is geometrically arranged. Most of the walls are stacks upon stacks of large bones. Ulnas, maybe? Or is it femurs? They seemed the size of what I'd expect leg bones to be. And within these bones, skulls protrude, sometimes forming a long row, sometimes forming shapes. Mosh said she saw them in the shape of a heart. The bones were all displaced from the St-Innocents cemetary, which was causing sanitation/health problems for a nearby neighborhood. Mosh has a picture of me "about to" lick one of the skulls. It was a harrowing experience, standing with my exposed tongue, mere inches from a gross, gross skull. I was glad she took the pictures quickly, because I kept worrying that something was going to happen, and I was going to end up with my face pressed against human remains. Kind of like how I can be using a Q-tip while sitting on the ground, but I'll still worry that I'll somehow suddenly jam it into my eardrum and other squishy parts.

After the Catacombes, we split up, and I went to Chez Papa, which I've already mentioned. I will say that I forgot entrée doesn't mean the same thing in France as it does in the US, so my main dish, the plat principal, was the tripe. And the delicious poached eggs were just the appetizer.

After lunch, I walked through the cemetary. It's pretty big, but it's not the famous one, which I think is called Pere-Lachaise, or something similar. They have Sartre, but I have no idea who he is. The most amusing grave I stumbled upon had an engraving "Men Men Men Amen." And it contained the names of two men, so I'll go ahead and assume things. See, I knew my Asian superpower was finding the only other Asian person in a crowd of 50 or more (works well at parties), but apparently I have a gay superpower for finding the only gay plot in cemetaries.

I headed up the road to the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was very nice, but gardens start to lose their effect on me because there are so many of them here. What was unique to this garden was a small fountain where kids with sticks could redirect toy sailboats, and a lovely fountain commissioned by one of the Medicis. Ooh, and a wicked playground, for which they charged admission. The palais facing the garden was apparently commissioned by some queen (or other royal title) who missed her native Florence. It was completed in two years, but it wasn't that special, either.

The Panthéon was nearby, so I gave it a go. I balked at the admission price, even though it was 4.50€ for youth, just because I'm being conscientious about my budget this time around. But I paid, and I was able to see Foucault's famed pendulum, which proves the rotation of the earth,and there were also some lovely wall paintings. The main attraction, however, is the crypt below, which houses the tombs of famous Frenchmen. The crypt is divided into little chambers, and you can only stand at their doorways and peer in. The names of the residents are by the door, though. Louis Braille had Braille over his name. Creepier than the efficient packing of bodies (which also suggested that they were rather short) was the totally unoccupied chambers. You could see where some future body would be laid to rest. And the chamber that was empty except for a few packing boxes gave me the greatest heebie-jeebies.

On my way out of the Panthéon, I noticed people being ushered into a small staircase. I didn't know where they were going, but I decided to join them. We stopped on one of the upper levels of the building (a church? a cathedral?), to get a nice view of everything below. But the final destination was the dome, from which there was a magnificent view of the city. I tried taking pictures (including the Eiffel Tower), but they turned out mostly dinky-looking. The view was still spectacular.

I don't really remember anything about the Jardin des Plantes, so it must have been unremarkable. Also, I didn't spend much time there, because I was meeting Mosh soon, so I hoofed it over to our meeting place. From there, we went back to the apartment/studio and got changed for the evening. We were supposed to meet some of her classmates for karaoke, so we picked a dinner place nearby, called Pain, Vin, Fromage. There, we split a salad, fondue, and sorbet, and we debated how much it must look like we were on a date. The fondue was quite delicious, and the atmosphere of the restaurant was just right. I almost started playing footsies with her.

We went to karaoke, where I didn't sing at all. I put my name on a slip, but either they didn't call it before we left three hours later, or I didn't hear it. But Mosh sang "I Will Survive," and I was entertained by Kyle, who regaled me with amusing Paris anecdotes. And Mosh chatted up a cute French lawyer, who went to NYU's law school. After we left the karaoke place, we found a crepe place that was still open, and hung out and ate for a bit, before heading to Kyle's apartment, just to check it out.

This was Saturday night, so I had intended to go to Le Dépôt that night, but I was too exhausted, so we just took a cab back and went to bed. Previously, we had made plans to do two things together on Sunday, one before and one after brunch, but we pretty much just slept in. So instead of sitting down for brunch, we walked through a street market and ate random things. We also found some fresh ravioli, which we bought to have as dinner that night.

We went over to the Musée Rodin, which I really, really loved. Every time I bring this up, Mosh tells me something intelligent about stripping away clothing and leaving humanity, blah blah blah, but I just like the pretty sculptures, alright? I like the way they make me feel. I like how intense they are. It's kind of like taking an "action shot" (that was the yearbook buzzword, right?). Even though it's perfectly still, you get a strong sense of the subject being alive, and that there's depth beyond just what you see on the surface, which you don't get with posed pictures, and I don't think you usually get it with classical sculpture, either. My favorite piece was Le Baiser, which was totally hot, and mildly pornographic. The scale was larger than life, which always leaves an impression. But the placement of the limbs was great, too. His right hand holds her thigh, and its detailed veins and musculature add a sense of its power. Meanwhile, her arm is held just so, and their lips are hidden from view. Sure, you can see them, but you kind of have to try, causing the viewer to feel kind of voyeuristic. Or at least that's how it was for me. I felt a little dirty. But otherwise, their passion is shrouded by their bodies, by her limb, and you feel like you've stumbled onto something quite private.

I spent extra time in the garden outside, while Mosh went to play ultimate. I relaxed there for a few hours before going back to the apartment, where I putzed around until she got back. She took a shower, and I started making the sauce for the ravioli. It was kind of intimidating. Sure, I was just chopping some vegetables and stirring, and maybe her class is only a few weeks long, but feeling self-conscious about cooking for Mosh was unavoidable. We each had about half a pound of ravioli, plus sauce, plus bread. Feeling absurdly stuffed, I lay down on the futon, but I claimed to Mosh I wasn't going to bed yet. Sure enough, I fell asleep. It was maybe 9pm. Tangenting back, the sauce was quite pretty. Instead of buying herbs, I bought some jars of already spiced marinara sauce, and I got some beautiful mushrooms and a carrot. There was some garlic in the apartment, and soon the sauce was smelling pretty good. Mosh then picked some leaves off the basil plant by the kitchen sink, and it gave the sauce just the right amount of coloring. And Mosh also put on some random music. Good dining experiences are key to good travel experiences for me, I guess.

That's a lot of writing, and it only covers two days, so I'll take a break and continue this later.

- posted by roger @ 3:37 PM (2) comments
Saturday, August 20, 2005
 
Brebis is Sheep Cheese
Right now, I'm at Chez Papa, a little restaurant adjacent to the Montparnasse cemetary. I'm sitting outside, half in the sun, half in the shade. The traffic isn't too busy, so there's a comfortable level of background noise. I'm a couple seats down from some Italians, who appear to be enjoying themselves.

For lunch, this has been lovely. I'm eating off a fixed menu for just under 10€, which got me an entree, a side platter, and a coffee. My entree was called "Œufs pochés au bleu de brebis." It was poached eggs over a blue cheese, kind of like fondue. It was heaven.

Oh lord, my coffee just came with wee sugar cubes.

Anyway, this entree was not to be believed. First, the poached eggs were absolutely beautiful: billowing egg whites, soft yolks. The cheese was warm and delicious. I also had a basket of bread, which I dipped profusely into my meal.

I got a side order of tripes, which were kind of scary-looking, even for me.

I had more, random things to cover, but I want to enjoy my tasty coffee annd my cool afternoon breeze.

- posted by roger @ 1:14 PM (0) comments
Friday, August 19, 2005
 
Paris, Day 1
Alors, Paris, comme je t'aime encore.

Right now, I'm post-morning shower. I got in around 7am, and I had the included breakfast before getting a shower in. I may go back for more coffee.

It's raining today, so I'm not sure how much I will get done, but I feel refreshed. I had trouble falling asleep on the plane (I had a 5-hr allergy attack), so I was pretty dead yesterday. It was a bit of a task, getting from the airport to the hostel, but I'm happy with the find. It's the Centre International de Paris-Paris Louvre, recommended by my handy-dandy Let's Go: Paris. It's in the 1er arrondisement, about a block from the Louvre. Aside from its proximity to tourist attractions, it's also close to le Marais, which is the gay district, located in the 4ème arrondisement. So I can go to the clubs and return at any hour, since there's no curfew or lockout time. And it's only 25€! Which is expensive for a hostel, but not for a hostel in Paris. And it's definitely one of the nicer hostels I've stayed in.

After I arrived yesterday, I mostly walked around the 1er & 2ème arrondisements. I hit the Jardin du Palais Royal, where the number of sunbathers was surprising. it seemed like a place where Parisiens might take their lunch break, and here were sunbathers and kids in a sandbox. Bizarre.

I also visited some Galeries or Passages, which are little covered alleyways with nice shops. A lot of things were closed, as August is a popular month for the French to take their vacations. After that, I came back to the hostel to check into the room. And it was nowhere near the time to go meet Mosh for dinner (we set a time before I left for Paris). I was exhausted, but I couldn't take a nap, having forgotten to pack either a watch or alarm clock. So I tried to walk leisurely to the Metro station. It's normally a transfer to go from here to Mosh's stop, so I reasoned that walking over to her Metro line might kill some time.

Everything's a lot closer than the map makes it seem. I walked through the Louvre's courtyard to reach the Jardin des Tuileries. Qu'est-ce que c'est une "tuilerie"? Anyway, I walked through it unappreciatively to reach the Place de la Concorde, where the 12th century BC Egyptian obelisk sits. It's sort of out of place-looking.

When I arrived at our meeting place, a rose garden with a playground, I tried very hard not to lie down on the bench. No one else was, and I didn't want to be "that guy." So I kept awkwardly propping my arm up on the back of the bench, dozing off. I would pretty much wake up whenever the breeze was suddenly cool, or any kind of noise was made, so I woke up pretty immediately when Mosh started kicking dirt at me.

We went to the St-Michel area, in the Quartier Latin, I believe. It was crawling with people, and it felt very familiar and strange, as a lot of the city has been doing to me. We ate at a bistro, where I had some turkey. It was pretty good, but not magnificent. In related news, my budget isn't doing so hot. But I am trying.

We walked around a bit after dinner and when we parted, I came back to the hostel. I was asleep by 10, but some noise from the street rustled me awake around 4:30. I got changed, and headed to a club, Le Dépôt. It's kind of a dance blub/sex club hybrid. And without saying which is which, it's more of a 60/40 split between the two. While, in general, the Europeans have been nice to look at, the club wasn't very special. It was a good club (even I almost started dancing), but the pickin's were slim. I guess it was crowded for a Friday morning. I can't imagine what Saturday night will be like. The guys weren't more attractive than those in American clubs (and they were worse danseurs), so I was getting ready to leave. I'd rejected a number of advances, which was nice, but disappointing. Before I left, I was feeling impulsive, and I figured "what the hell," and I boinked some guy. I have no idea what his name was, but he spoke French and was kind of pretty. In other news, one of my dormmates is an Aussie hottie named Justin. So I'm going to go join him in the breakfast room and get another bowl of café noir, and then I'll plan out what to do on this rainy, rainy day.

- posted by roger @ 8:30 AM (0) comments
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
 
Fleeting Ethnicity
It's a funny thing how that works out—where I'm most inclined to write when not much (eg school) is going on, but I'm not at all inclined when I have tons of things going on.

Anyway, I'm having a rockin' summer. I know I was complaining earlier, but it was just too much, too soon. I was coming off the hardest semester ever (now dubbed The Semester of Sudden Hair Loss), and I wasn't feeling unwound yet. But so far, I've had trips to Florida, Taiwan, and Japan. And then I went back to Chestertown for two sessions of TAing. And now I'm sitting on a plane bound for Paris. Awesome.

Something that I've noticed as weird is how I perceive ethnicity on international flights. Getting on my flight to Japan, I felt like we were all Americans. Then, as we deplaned, I suddenly considered them all to be Japanese. For certain flights, I'll judge their ethnicity to be that of the destination before we've even left the gate. Case in point, coming back tot he US from Japan: I got a sense of being "home" as soon as I stepped on the plane. But that could also have something to do with the fact that I was incredibly homesick.

Now, on this plane, I am surrounded by Frenchmen. And I'm still in Newark. It just happens. The terminal was already feeling pretty European, as a Manchester flight was leaving from a nearby gate. But context clues, like spoken French, magazines, and sudden BO, all add up. And I'm sure a small part of the ethnic assignment is from the fact I'm totally stoked to go to Paris.

Last week, when I got home from Chestertown, I had a strong urge to travel, and with Michelle in Paris, it seemed like the perfect time to go continental. I used mileage for my plane ticket, and I'll be staying with Michelle most of the time. My goal is for the entire trip (11 days) to not run more than $500. If I carry I'll try to include airport taxes and my guidebook in that total.

Man, the head flight attendant, who is making the bilingual announcements is a total loser. Okay, maybe he has a fluent command of the French language, but the accent is terrible. Like 8th grade terrible. How did he get this job?

I just packed my backpack, which I last used in 2000. It doesn't fit as nicely as I remember. And strictly speaking, I could have used traditional luggage. I'll be "backpacking" from the airport to a hostel, then to Michelle's, then back to a hostel and the airport. But there's something romantic about claiming that one is "backpacking." I think packing lightly might be like closing one's eyes while singing. You deprive some aspect of your senses to enhance others. By depriving oneself of certain luxuries, like clean laundry, one might enjoy a stronger sense of being entrenched in the destination. You don't have clothing to cloak yourself with. Bah, you know what I mean. But you probably don't. Anyway, this is going to be awesome.

- posted by roger @ 10:10 PM (0) comments
 
Itinerary: Paris, France
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- posted by roger @ 10:09 PM (0) comments