Paris: the land of amazing falafel and just about everything else.

I got to Paris at 10pm Friday and, after drinking a third of a bottle of wine, with a third of a round of cheese, promptly fell asleep (Joe and his mom had already done a full day there - the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the first falafel sandwiches of the trip [from L'As du Falafel -- supposedly the best, though in our opinion not], and so on...). The next morning I woke up to a breakfast (in bed) of chocolate croissant and Nespresso (What else? Ha. Ha. Ha. If I ask my students "What else?" they answer with "Nespresso!" if I didn't know about this ad campaign I would be confused as hell) and then we hit the road. Saturday we wandered the Champs-Elysees, the Marais district (I ate my first falafel sandwich at Chez Marianne [good but not the best], Joe bought shoes, we all lost each other for about half an hour), and went to a great restaurant half a block from the hotel (I tried a snail!).





At this market (the first of Sunday's adventures), I took about ten photos of people with tiny, froofy, French dogs and Joe and I helped Betsi choose a cheese. After that, we went back to the Marais district I ate another falafel sandwich (from Mi-Va-Mi, in my opinion, the best falafel in Paris. they gave falafel balls to people in line! that is service!), and we convinced Betsi to buy a cool looking red jacket/coat. Post-shopping and eating (we also split an awesome borek filled with sheep cheese and spices) we walked to Centre Pompidou and hung out there for an hour or two.





After the museum, it was almost train time, so after some wine and cheese (and after purchasing two more falafel sandwiches [one from Mi-Va-Mi and another from the place that we ate falafel with Speef when she visited], bringing the falafel total up to four for me), we headed back to Lyon. Overall, I'd describe this trip to Paris as falafelici_[t]ous

joe's mother is in town!

We went to the gallo-roman amphitheaters!



And ate crepes!

mother visits Lyon! and Geneva! and Annecy!

Last week my mother visited Lyon (after, first, visiting the airport in Paris for longer than necessary), and we hopped around both the city and its environs. By its environs, I mean Geneva. Isn't it nice to live in a city with other cities nearby? That are easy and relatively inexpensive to visit? Yes.

In Geneva, we played giant chess (which, I won somehow. maybe pulling memories from the depths of my brain of chess strategies from childhood years of playing chess with my father? the world will never know!!), ate fondue, and didn't see the Jet d'Eau because it was inexplicably turned off. The weather was wonderful.



The fondue in Geneva was steamy and came with only bread to dip into the cheese. My mother was somewhat disappointed -- a condition relieved only by a healthy pour of the wine that we snuck into the restaurant and a promise from me of staging a fondue party for her this summer (so, Tanya and Keith, if you are reading: be prepared!!!). Then she set the table on fire and we ran away.  For real.

On Wednesday we went to Annecy, which is beautiful.



I made us to go a restaurant near a canal to eat the regional speciality - tartiflette. Nt only was it delicious, but also, while sitting there, we got to eavesdrop on the people sitting next to us. There were two women talking about their past. From the bits and pieces I caught: one of them had a husband who had been thrown into jail for some humanitarian work or political work and then, something went wrong, and someone assumed that he was a terrorist. Yikes!



Going to all of these cities with lakes reminded me of how much I want to live near water and own a boat. Preferably a cute boat with both paddle and motor capacities (let's be honest: I know next to nothing about boats. but there's time to learn!).

On Saturday, Mom's last day in Lyon, we went on a macaron trek. Though first turning her nose up at my suggestion of savory macaron's, my mother was won over by the fois gras macaron and then was compelled to try the gorgonzola, the mushroom, and the olive and rye flavors.



Later that night, I made a potato gratin and salmon with morel cream sauce (and bought some Comte and Gex cheeses) to go with my newly purchased Vin Jaune . I'd wanted to try it ever since I learned of its existence (thanks, awful Geography of Wine class) and, in fact, Joe and I were going to go to the Percée du Vin Jaune in February until we learned that, to go, it would cost five times more than just buying a bottle. So, I waited. And finally the time was right to give it a try (note the year: 1995!!!).



It tasted like walnuts and went perfectly with the cheese (the other food, though I cooked as was directed by the people who sold me the wine, I'm not positive about). It was really interesting, but I lacked the strong emotion about it that was promised by numerous wine sellers ("You will either love it or hate it! There is no in between!"). Still, probably the best wine that I'll ever buy (at least, until I start making real money).

oddities of lyon

Things that are strange here include:

1. statues and rivers
2. advertisements
3. arbitrary rules

The first: Lyon, as you may know, is a city that lies between two rivers: le Rhone and la Saone. From their articles, you can tell that the Rhone is masculine and the Saone is feminine. In Lyon, they really care about this. In Place Bellecour, there's a statue of a horse with statue personifications the Rhone on one side - looking all powerful and manly, of course - and the Saone - rocking some feminine curves - on the other. Those statues I've gotten used to. But, the other day, Joe and I were enjoying the first sunny day of the year, and we came across this statue:

If I'm understanding that correctly, the Rhone is virile and swimming forward, wanting to conquer, while the Saone is kind of passive and crushed beneath him. Weird! But, I guess that the Saone is, in reality, the less powerful river. Following is a photo of each river so that you can decide for yourself.

Le Rhone:


La Saone:


Second: advertisements. A lot of the cars here are plastered with ads -- if someone is driving a company car, you can tell. Also, France is really into naked ladies. I think that both of these things are hilarious.

Yum, tomato, parmesan, paprika pasta:


Naked lady is having an orgasm from putting on socks:


Lastly, arbitrary rules. Joe and I decided to get a petit gateau individuel at a cake place and relax in their mini restaurant to eat it.  The snappy lady behind the counter asked if we wanted any sort of drink with our tiny, adorable cake. I, remembering the menu had had nice sounding wine, asked for a fillette du vin, s'il vous plait. The lady first had no idea what I was saying because, since I am not French, I am obviously a moron not worth listening to, then got a strange look on her face and (without explanation!) went to cluck at the manager (?) for a few minutes. She came back and refused our request, explaining, "I am sorry. No. We only serve wine with savory things. We do not serve wine with sweet things." Weird, non?

Delicious petit gateau individuel:

grandparents! italy!

Realizations after 24-hours in Breuil-Cervinia, Italy:

1. My grandparents are much cooler than I am (I need to learn to ski).
   
2. I don't hate being cold if there are mountains and snow.
3. Walking up a mountain is easier if tipsy.
4. I need to buy moon boots (protection from snow, traction, and sheer awesomeness).
5. Hotels are great.

Thoughts on being in a car in Europe:

1. Tolls are ridiculous.
2. European SUVs are smaller than American non-SUVs (see: Fiat Panda 4x4).
3. I still hate cars.

pizza is not universal

This is why I make my own pizza.

The toppings are sparse (except for meat, of course. but really...three olives?), the crust falls off of the cheese, and it has an egg on it (ok, that's actually pretty cool).  In France, this size pizza is meant to be eaten by one person with a knife and a fork (as you see, the pizza is not pre-sliced). The couple sitting next to us each ordered an individual pizza. They gobbled it up from the outside in (crust first, ridiculous, a travesty of pizza eating). And at no point did they offer each other bites. And they drank their cokes with slices of lime in the glass.

17 degrees and sunny

Saturday was this year's first nice day in Lyon. Joe and I decided to head to a park and cemetery that we'd seen in September when searching for apartments. 

On our way there, we saw the Saturday market being taken down. I, in a moment of brilliance, remembered a documentary I had seen in one of my French classes, Glaneurs et la glaneuse, and convinced Joe that we needed to start rooting around the piled up crates for not-too-rotten food to swipe. Success came in the form of a clementine. 

Before hiking up the giant hill to Fourviere we bummed around Vieux Lyon for a bit - it is the only district of Lyon that still has cobblestones and, consequently, is pretty. While Joe stopped to take a picture of some cool urban decay, I managed to grab a photo of the biggest car I've ever seen in France.





Joe insisted that we walk up the entirety of the hill to Fourviere, threatening to withhold the sandwich in his bag if I disagreed. Not really fair but, the sandwich was one of the best here - instead of jambon or emmental it has two kinds of goat cheese, olives, tomatoes, and sometimes pesto (I have two favorite sandwich places - that is one, the other has the best smoked sandwich ever). We ate the sandwich on a wobbly bridge, filled with tourists and children who jumped up and down on it and put my sandwich in jeopardy.





Post-cemetery, Joe got attacked by wild animals.





After we got his shoe back and made sure that the laces weren't gnawed off, we made our way (on the metro this time!) to the Asian market. We'd managed to use up an entire supply of soy sauce, siracha sauce, and sesame oil, and needed to restock. While there, I found two new things - a giant bag of grated coconut for only 1.40 euros (!!) and a can of passionfruit juice. Yum.





Yesterday I used part of the coconut to make coconut macaroons for us and the landlords. They invited us to dinner when we stopped by to pay the rent, and I told them that we would be leaving at the end of April over the cheese plate. The macaroons were delicious.