Small Victories

A couple weeks ago one of my coworkers told me that I wasted my time in France by not learning French. I was so livid about this for several reasons. First, the official language of business for the company is English. Second, I actually have learned a little bit of French; it just so happens that what I’ve learned (what I use on a daily basis) isn’t really applicable in the office. Third, the few times I have used French in the office I’ve been corrected in a very condescending manner--as if I’m being told that I should only speak French if I can do so absolutely perfectly.

So no, I don’t speak French in the office, but I do speak a little bit outside it. I also didn’t waste my time here by not becoming fluent, thank you very much.

I noticed a lot when I first moved to Paris that when I would try to speak French--at a shop or restaurant or gourmet bakery--people would roll their eyes and switch to English (which doesn’t help me learn). It was, and still is, annoying to me. But there have been several places where people accept the French I use, bad accent and incorrect pronunciation and all. I’m in France so it’s only natural for people to expect to speak French. Plus, I assumed this was because they didn’t know or weren’t comfortable with English.  But in one specific case, that’s not true at all.

My sister Hannah visited me recently. I had to work a few half days, so I instructed her to stop at the local boulangerie to pick up a croissant or chausson aux pommes for breakfast. She stopped by one morning and ordered a croissant...but was then asked (in French, bien sur) if she would like anything else. My sister politely said “Pardon?” in hopes of understanding a word or two, but when the baker repeated the question she still didn’t understand. So Hannah asked “Parlez-vous l’anglais?” And sure enough, the boulangère switched to English and asked Hannah if there was anything else she’d like.

Hannah chided me that afternoon for not telling her to expect a question and recounted the story for me. My mind was blown. I’ve been going to this place 2-3 times per week for SIX MONTHS and I had no idea the baker spoke English. No freaking clue. For the past six months, she’s greeted me with “Bonjour!” and a smile and sent me on my way with a heartfelt “Merci, mademoiselle. Bonne journée mademoiselle! Au revoir!” Even on days when I walk by without stopping in, she smiles and says hello as I make my way to the metro.

(And yes, I admit, I feel a little like Belle in the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast and I LOVE IT...because I almost always first pass the guy about my age setting up the tables at the Italian restaurant on the ground floor of my building who makes a point to say bonjour to me. Or, sometimes he yells “Bonne journée mademoiselle!” as he realizes I’ve walked past him while he was speaking with a delivery driver. So yes, it’s my 60 seconds of being Belle and I’m not ashamed. I would probably even be reading a book as I walked down the street if I wasn’t positive that I’d step in dog merde while doing so. There aren’t feces in princess movies, but there are in real life. Quelle dommage.)

Anyway, I couldn’t believe that the baker had been that patient with me for so long. This woman deserves an award. Along those lines, so does the owner (?) of the sushi shop who has memorized my order (embarrassingly enough because I can get Dr Pepper there) AND makes small talk with me while I wait for my order. So no, I may not speak French at work because it is utterly terrifying and induces anxiety attacks--the tu/vous dilemma is my biggest fear, honestly--but I speak French and there are some people who appreciate my effort and don’t make me feel like a total fool. To the baker and the sushi guy, I’m going to miss you immensely.

This Provincial Life

A few weeks ago there was a national holiday on a Thursday and I failed to make adequate travel arrangements to have a four-day weekend away, sooo... two friends suggested we all go to Fontainebleau for a bike ride through the forest for the day.

We met at the train station (I was wearing workout clothes and cannot tell you how many looks I got from Frenchies on the bus, silently judging me for not looking all put together--I will not miss this aspect when I leave) and took the hour-ish long train to Fontainebleau.  We loaded up on picnic foods at Monoprix, got bikes, and went on our way.

panoramic view from a spot in the forest

After a few hours of easy riding along the mostly paved paths, we took a break and hiked to find a picnic spot.  We enjoyed the serenity (and food) before deciding to take a more challenging route.  This one was not entirely paved and involved hills (mostly of the upward variety).  At one point, we had to maneuver ourselves around a felled tree that completely blocked the road and several other times we were dodging rocks while flying downhill.

I think the most surprising part of the day was the constant "Bonjour!"s.  I felt like I was in the first scene of Beauty and the Beast.  Everyone we passed said "Bonjour!" and of course, we responded in kind each time.  It was especially hilarious as we biked past groups of people, bonjours flying left and right.

All in all I think we biked about 30 km and my butt hurt for about 28 of them.  Seriously, that seat was mighty uncomfortable and was not made any more pleasant by the fact that I seemed to hit two potholes for every one that I managed to dodge.  Regardless it was a great day to be outside, enjoy the beauty of nature in the forest, soak up the sun (maybe a little too much) and end the outing with a beer before we all slept the whole train ride back to Paris.

Chocolate, Waffles, Fries, and Beer

I spent Easter weekend in Brussels, Belgium. After dropping off my luggage at the hostel, I ventured back into the main part of the city to see “The Art of the Brick” at the Stock Exchange.

I was totally mesmerized by all of the creations. Some abstract, some realistic, some representations of famous artworks or landmarks. All of it was simply fascinating.

“Create what you see. Create what you feel. Create what you have never seen. Just create.”-Nathan Sawaya

I ventured towards Grand Place to hunt down a famous Belgian waffle. In researching before my trip, I discovered that there are 2 kinds of waffles--Brussels waffles that are rectangular with powdered sugar sprinkled on top and Liege waffles with a less defined but still definitively waffle shape with sugar throughout the middle. Liege waffles are the way to go. The outside has a nice crunch to it while the inside is doughy, sugary bliss. In my search for a place to sit down to enjoy such a treat, I found Maison Dandoy and its terrace. Unfortunately, a guy in his 3rd floor apartment across the street had a rough night and decided my meal time entertainment needed to be him retching out the window. Absolutely disgusting.

Grand Place

I continued going through the shops around the Grand Place before searching for Mannequin Pis, the fountain of a little boy peeing. I couldn’t believe how many people swarmed the gate surrounding the fountain to get a picture of the underwhelming site. Being a good tourist (unlike 90% of the other tourists I encountered in Belgium), I snapped a pic and got out of the throng.

Mannequin Pis

I decided to have a traditional Bruxelles dinner and ate mussels and frites. I’d never had mussels before, but mastered the shells-as-a-fork technique in no time. After dinner I headed to Delirium village for a lambic. I went downstairs to the crowded bar, encountered too many rude people (not even drunk, mind you), gulped down a framboise lambic, and headed back to the hostel.

All around the hostel was a pretty miserable experience and I hope that future hostel trips won’t be as bad. I know--I got what I paid for, but it doesn’t change the fact that everywhere I went in Brussels I encountered people with absolutely no sense of common courtesy or decency.  (And I live in FRANCE, people, so this is seriously an issue if I’m commenting about it.)

Grand Place - Mini Europe

The next morning one of my hostel roommates crashed my party of one and tagged along with me to some attractions further out of town. We went to Mini Europe first, where each of the EU members has displays of its famous landmarks at 1/10 (?) scale. It was pretty cool to see some of the places--especially ones I have no desire to visit in person.

Atomium

After that we went to the Atomium and (rushed, not by my choice) through the exhibits and saw Brussels from the top atom. The tag-along and I parted ways on the metro back into the city where I bought a box of truffles at Godiva and enjoyed more beer at Delirium. I got my train times mixed up and thought I was leaving Brussels around 17h, but in reality I booked a ticket for a train leaving at 21h. Discouraged by the trip in general (crowds, excruciatingly rude people, and the whole vomit-out-the-window-onto-the-street incident), I went back to the hostel and read on my Kindle until it was time to head back to Paris.

moi parle jolie aujourd'hui

A friend of mine, and previous temporary resident of Paris, shared a link to This American Life : Americans In Paris. Surprisingly, it was an episode I hadn't heard before (I went through a pretty drawn out TAL phase during university) and when Ira Glass said David Sedaris was featured, I knew I had to drop everything and listen. I'm glad I did.

Part 1--"Him Talk Pretty Three Days"--is David's view of life in the French capital. David Sedaris is absolutely hilarious. I've loved his books and his previous features on This American Life. Somehow, I'd forgotten that he lived in Paris for a while. Please, go listen to it immediately if you have any curiosity about how I feel about living in Paris. Seriously, it's the truest account of life in Paris that I've come across, and about 85% of it is a dead on explanation of my experiences here.

moi mademoiselle's reflections on life in paris after hearing david sedaris's account

1.  If I smoked, I would most assuredly absolutely dread asking someone for fire on the occasion of my lighter running out of fluid. In fact, hearing David Sedaris detail this scenario is enough to keep me from ever trying a cigarette.

2.  I, too, frequent places where people don't mind my awful and broken French. Tonight, I went to dinner at a place I've been a good six or seven times now (Philippe's, or La Varangue). Philippe speaks English, but I ordered and spoke in French. As he ran my debit card, he asked me (in French) if I had been to the restaurant before; I replied (in French!) saying yes, 5 or 6 times. It really made my day that he realized I'd visited before.

3.  It takes so much less to make me happy in Paris than it does in the States. Honestly. It's a good day when I don't get chastised for my terrible French. It's a good day when I go shopping and find what I need. It's a good day when after struggling with my French the person with whom I'm speaking offers a sympathetic smile and uses Franglish or speaks more slowly. Heck, it's a good day when I can sit down on the metro.

4.  It makes me giggle when people guess at my nationality. I've gotten British (several times), Italian (what?!), and American.

5.  Thankfully, I have no issue eating alone in Paris. In fact, it's an experience I relish. Just me, un verre de vin, my Kindle...parfait. There are other things I won't do alone though...like going to certain travel destinations that pique my adrenaline-junkie interest for fear of getting hurt and having to go to a hospital and speak/gesture/make an idiot of myself in yet another language.

6.  I definitely judge other people doing stupid things and remember all of those instances and it makes me all the more self-conscious about my own behavior and French speaking abilities. Note: it hasn't really changed my behavior all that much.

My Routine

To say I’m behind on blogging is a gross understatement. My apologies to those of you glued to your computer or phone waiting for new posts.

I figured it was about time I do a post about my day-to-day life in Paris since that is what consumes 80% of my life here (and thus, the main reason I don’t get around to blogging as often as I should). To be honest, the routine isn’t much different from when I was living in Houston with a few small exceptions. I wake up in the morning and get ready (albeit in a half-size tub with a handheld shower). I walk to the metro stop close to my apartment and sometimes I’ll pop into the boulangerie on the way for a chausson aux pommes (flaky pastry filled with apple compote) or a croissant. The metro is usually a 20 minute ride and I read my Kindle the whole time, as long as the car isn’t utterly packed with people. I walk 10 minutes to work from the metro station.

I work until noon and usually someone from my department stops by and picks me up to go to lunch at the cantine in the office building. (Per French law, a company with 50+ people must either supply a place for employees to eat or provide lunch vouchers for use in restaurants.) Lunch is usually only 30 minutes long--sorry to disappoint all the American workers thinking we take 2 hour lunches. Fridays I usually eat outside the office, just for a change of pace. If it’s nice outside, lunch is usually an hour just to soak in the rare moments of Parisian sunshine on the Seine.

I leave work between 18h and 19h each day (depending on what time I get into the office), walk back to the metro, and read on the ride home. Once a week my dinner solely consists of a baguette from the boulangerie down the street and a couple glasses of wine...I have no shame in this. If I don’t do that, I head straight home (and up 5 flights of stairs) to change clothes and watch an episode or two of Friends--in English!--before heading back out for dinner at a reasonable hour (19h30 at the earliest). I go back home and tidy up or read or watch Netflix or do any of those while doing laundry as well.

Weekends that I don’t travel mean I sleep in (if the rest of Paris is still sleeping, why should I be awake?!) and run basic errands that I don’t have time to do during the week. I try to visit a museum or exhibit or landmark of some sort, but if the weather is nice I walk two blocks to Place des Vosges and sit on the lawn to read and people-watch.

So really, nothing all that spectacularly different than Houston. I still spend my entire day at work on the computer so the last thing I want to do when I get home is try to focus on blogging or uploading photos...sorry.  I will try to get better, but I’m not making any promises.

Flashback Friday: London, UK

My sister and I visited London after I graduated college 2 years ago. We stayed for two weeks and still didn't see everything we could have!

We sort of stumbled upon the Royal Mews. We hadn't looked into it before we got to London and it ended up being one of my favorite parts of the trip. The Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace is home to the Windsor Grey horses that pull royal carriages for events. It's also home to the coaches and carriages themselves, including the Gold State Coach used for coronations. The Mews also include the Bentlys and Rolls Royce Phantoms when the Royal Family chooses cars over carriages.

Windsor Grey

Gold State Coach

Destination:  London, Great Britain

Date of Trip:  May 2012

Purpose of Trip:  Sister vacation

Things To Do:  Royal Mews

Tips:  A guided tour of the Mews is free...and recommended!

A Little Fizz

I had a rough week...because of a select few guys being total and complete ____ (insert your expletive of choice here). Luckily, I had planned a trip to Epernay, the capital of Champagne, and it's just what I needed.

My day started with a tour and tasting at Moët & Chandon. Even though the tour started at 10h30, I opted for the tasting of the Grand Vintage brut and rosé (like I said, rough week). The tour included a video about the house and continued through a fraction of the 18 km of underground cellars before concluding with the tasting. Everyone else on my tour had the same idea of going big or going home, so it was Grand Vintage all around.  I appreciated learning about the process of making champagne--nerd alert!--and I especially appreciated enjoying the final product :)

Moët & Chandon Cellars

I stopped at a local resto for lunch before continuing on to the park at city hall to read until the next champagne house opened for the afternoon. I headed up the Avenue de Champagne to Mercier. Mercier definitely had a different feel to it than Moët but it was interesting all the same. The Mercier tour is done on a little train that snakes along the cellar before another tasting. Plus, it's home to the #2 prize winner of the 1889 World Exposition--a 23 ton wine cask that can hold 213,000 bottles of champagne! (First prize went to the Eiffel Tower.)

Le Foudre at Mercier

From Mercier I went to de Castellane. While waiting for the English tour to begin, I wandered around the museum and climbed to the top of the old water tower. Eight flights of stairs after two glasses of champagne at Mercier maybe wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made, but the view of Epernay was nice. 

View of de Castellane's old water tower from Place de Champagne

At this point I knew pretty much all there was to know about the evolution of champagne production, but the de Castellane tour included production facilities instead of just cellars. (de Castellane only owns 6 km of cellars in Epernay and buys most of the wine from other producers.) The Belgians on the tour with me were a little obnoxious about the photo taking, but it was an interesting tour all the same. Plus, it too ended with a dégustation, so no complaints here!

Avenue de Champagne, Epernay

It was about 16h45 when I was strolling back down the avenue towards the train station. I didn't have time for another tour, but decided that one last dégustation couldn't hurt! I went into the boutique at Champagne Collard-Picard for a tasting of 3 classic wines. I was a bit concerned that I would be cutting it close for time (my train left at 17h33) but c'est la vie, non?! I really enjoyed the champagnes I tried there, and it was nice to chat a bit with the hostess (en l'anglais, bien sûr). I ended up purchasing a bottle of their Prestige for several reasons. First, it can be served as an apero, with dinner, or with dessert. Voilà, versatility. Secondly, it "had more character" since its first fermentation is done in oak casks instead of stainless steel vats. Third, it is champagne and it was more reasonably priced than a bottle of Moët.

All in all the perfect end to a stress-filled week! It was an easy trip from Paris and most importantly--I learned that champagne goes with ANYTHING!