25 days in paris

onward

2009-06-02T13:00:00.003-04:00

Hello, all: I've decided to start a new blog, since I enjoyed this one so much. It probably won't have as much pastry as this one did, but I hope you'll come visit anyway.

ppps: Things I Will Miss

2009-05-25T12:39:00.009-04:00

...you mean, besides everything?

1. People - lots of them - actually walking down the street with baguette in hand, just like in every cliché photo or film of Paris that you've ever seen.

2. The prices of the clothing in a shop window being printed neatly on a discreet card, saving one the trouble of going in and asking the price on a cute pair of orange sailor shorts ("les bermudas"), only to find out that they're 180 euros, global economic crisis or no global economic crisis.

3. The green metal lounge chairs at Tuileries and Luxembourg. Plop yourself in one of these babies with something to drink and a good pair of sunglasses, and you're set for the afternoon.

4. The restraint shown by bartenders when it comes to ice. In a New York restaurant, a tall glass of iced tea typically yields two or three sips of tea, and then you're left with a pile o' ice. At Le Fumoir, in contrast, my bergamon-mint iced tea lasted through my whole meal.

5. The signs in the Métro station letting you know how long till the next train. (And, yes, I am aware that this exists on the L as well, but the L is so dreadful in every other measure, including the length of time till the next train, that this doesn't count.)

6. The little plate of saucisson, or cheese, or olives, that comes with your drink at a café in the early evening.

7. The department stores. I really didn't even buy very much, but wandering through these gorgeous stores and looking at Saarinen tables and bolts of oilcloth and funky modern lamps and crazy café society hats and fab bags (one of which I am still thinking of, wistfully) and thin leather gloves and Missoni towels and Kenzo bedspreads.... Oh, mama. And then, of course, heading to the astonishing gourmet wing of each of these shops, and spending way too much money on treats.

8. The sky staying light till 10 pm.

9. Being called "madame," in that way the French have, where, for example, when you look at a salesperson, instead of saying "Yes?" questioningly, they state "Madame" decisively, which somehow to me implies, "I am absolutely going to solve whatever issue you have at this moment, even if it's just ensuring that there is a croissant in your near future."

10. Fresh butter, non-pasteurized cheese, chicken that tastes like chicken, croissants, yogurt from Monoprix with acacia honey from G. Detou, chocolate-covered pralined almonds from Les Chocolats Rive Gauche, eating whatever I damn well want to, calories and arteries and bathing suit season be damned.

11. Seeing the Seine every day.

Clearly, I could go on, but it's too, too tragic.

pps: Things I Won't Miss

2009-05-25T12:39:00.001-04:00

1. People who won't get out of the friggin way, and instead stand at the top of escalators, in the middle of the sidewalk, in the doorway of a shop, in the entrance of the Métro trains, and who won't move, even when they have clearly seen you, even when they're looking right at you, until you put on your mean face and say, "Excusez moi," in a peevish tone.

2. The trifecta of noise in my apartment: the battalions of screaming kids in the playground, the six-days-a-week apartment renovation below me, and the clompiest upstairs neighbors in the entire world. Seriously. I put on my noise-reducing headphones a few times, just so I could relax and read without feeling like a cartoon character who's being bounced up and down in bed by some insane pounding noise.

3. Being confronted on a daily basis with the weakness of the dollar (thanks, George W.).

{sound of either clock ticking, Jeopardy tune playing, or crickets chirping}

I can't think of anything else.

ps: Things I Am Looking Forward to

2009-05-25T12:35:00.001-04:00

I'll start with this category, in the hopes that it will cheer me up.

1. Lots of spicy food

2. A slice. Then another.

3. People who put a little pep into it.

4. Extreme air-conditioning.

5. People who speak my language, in every sense of the phrase.

6. Non-dubbed American TV shows.

7. Eyebrows that don't raise at the drop of a hat.

8. Getting back onto some kind of reasonable diet that doesn't involve chocolate before noon.

9. Speaking of that: much less dairy, much less bread, much less sugar. A lot more vegetables (and I'm not talking half-butter, half-potato puree), and shopping expeditions to Whole Foods.

10. Personal space.

alors

2009-05-25T11:14:00.010-04:00

OK, I'm back, sitting at the kitchen table, with my 25 days behind me (and god only knows ahead, cf. "jour no. 21"), listening to moody Chet Baker play his moody trumpet, and being very moody indeed.

Actually, I'm moodier than I'd expected. To be honest, I was expecting to enjoy my time in Paris, maybe do a little reflecting on my life and my future, eat some yummy food, and then come back home, ready for whatever's next.

Instead, Paris slowly, over the course of my 25 days, got completely under my skin. In addition to the sheer pleasure the city offers, I also liked the challenge of speaking French (and feeling like I was improving), and I really liked my blog. It gave me a good focus on my experience, and it made me appreciate what each day gave up to me. I'm going to miss it! {Merci beaucoup for your clicks and comments.}

And of course, Paris also represents something, something that I, in my aimless state, am very susceptible to: it represents a life lived with meaning, in beauty, a life lived richly.

Unwisely, on the plane I chose to watch "Revolutionary Road," a movie that I'd initially avoided, but then became curious about as I heard the backlash to its negative reception, and even more curious after I saw the well-received "Reader," which I deeply loathed. I figured, maybe I'd just got my Kate Winslet movies crossed.

At any rate, as many of you know, the plot point for "RR" is that its protagonist (Kate Winslet) wants to escape her typical 1950s suburban life and move her husband (Leonardo DiCaprio) and children to Paris - "to live," as she puts it. Paris is the Shangri-La, the city on a hill, the antidote to the regular-old, garden-variety, 40-hours-a-week life that pretty much all of us figured we were going to avoid, and which pretty much all of us now have - some of us contentedly, god bless you, and some of us, not so much.

Of course (and I really don't think this is giving away anything, since it was all quite clear from minute one), the new life in Paris never happens, and much tragedy ensues.

Note: POOR CHOICE FOR VIEWING ON A PLANE TAKING YOU AWAY FROM PARIS.

{last pic: painfully appropriate detail from Rodin's "Porte de l'Enfer" at Musée d'Orsay}

a few things I forgot to mention:

2009-05-25T10:32:00.009-04:00

There are actual windmills in Montmartre.

The guy at the concert at Châtelet who, right as the conductor took his place for the second encore, shouted out "Chicago!"

The fact that the next day, Le Fumoir's music mix included Tony Bennett singing "Chicago," and on my last night, Jean Julien was playing Sinatra singing you guessed it (Jean Julien confessed that it's his dream to be married in Vegas; this to me is inexplicable, in the same way that French humor is inexplicable).

This incredible Hair by Kenneth holdout at Garnier.

Yet another potentially irresistible set of wheels.

I'm risking my foodie street cred, but I did want to tell you that part of the reason I so loved Eric Kayser's chocolate mini financiers is that they reminded me of chocolate Dunkin' Munchkins.

Our collective crush on Jean Philippe, the waiter at Le Verre Volé.

The Parisian obsession with Obama.

jour no. 25 - enfin

2009-05-24T05:50:00.003-04:00

Well, I'm packed (though still worried if I can manage all this luggage; I may collapse and call it quits on my three-block walk to the Air France bus stop), the laundry is running, I'm drinking my last cup of tea, and Elton John is singing "Rocket Man."

Clearly, there's some serious melancholy going on here.

I'm not going to wrap this blog up yet, however, as I feel I need to do some sort of summation. So there will be at least three more posts (maybe today, if the CDG wifi cooperates): What I'm Looking Forward to; What I'm Not Going to Miss; and What I Am Going to Miss, Deeply and Truly.

{top photo: a rose from Amy's lovely garden}

jour no. 24 - and on top of everything else,...

2009-05-23T21:57:00.002-04:00

...today, my French finally decided to kick in. This afternoon, I had conversations in shops about ink-jet cartridges, tax refund, customs, and gift wrap, and I understood everything! And tonight, I was even kind of bold speaking up to bartenders and waiters.

Finally.

And now I'm leaving - such bad timing.

{Note that I'm basically constructing arguments for why I should return to Paris, toot sweet.}

{And note the lovely giftwrap on the present for my hosts, courtesy Le Bon Marché.}

jour no. 24 - the Last Supper

2009-05-23T21:35:00.004-04:00

Look, I know there are more restaurants and wine bars and cafés in Paris than an entire army of New York gals can shake a million sticks at. But I wanted to go back to La Cave du Daron and Le Verre Volé for my last night.

Jean Julien at La Cave du Daron (that's him hiding behind the cheese) is one of those great hosts: everyone who enters his shop/bar is made to feel welcome, and if you stick around, you'll probably end up a bit tipsy, too. Or maybe that's just us.

Anywho, we spend a good hour and a half drinking Champagne and eating fabulously stinky cheese and fabulously tangy sausage before walking over (through a beautiful dusk, along the canal) to my third meal at Le VV.

Let me just point out that, all in all, I didn't eat out a lot of dinners during my time here. And still, on my final night, I wanted to go to Le VV (which doesn't look like much from the outside) for the third time.

The four of us had the asparagus yet again, along with brandade with artichokes, veal pâté with tomato confit, and tuna tartare with avocado as starters. My main was the rouget again, with baby vegetables. We polished off a couple of great reds from the Rhône, chosen by the ever-charming Jean Philippe, and to finish, a bowl of cherries from Nîmes and a lovely raisin-y dessert wine that pretty much finished us off.

At 2, it was implied that it was time to leave, and then at 2:30, cabs were called, so we took the hint.

No one washed my feet, but it was still a perfect last supper.

jour no. 24 - penultimate day, afternoon

2009-05-23T21:29:00.003-04:00

In my last afternoon here, I did some errands in my lovely neighborhood of the 17e, then headed to the 11e, where I wandered a bit, then drank a coffee and read an art mag at L'Autre Café. Nothing special, nothing newsworthy: just that perfect kind of artful laziness that Paris specializes in.

And maybe a touch of melancholy.

jour no. 24 - workin' it

2009-05-23T21:16:00.002-04:00

OK, last day. Lots of chores and errands (I used to feel the title of my memoirs would be "Chores and Errands") - clean my darling apartment, try to cram all my new stuff into my luggage, pick up a few things at the store (including some lovely-looking gouda-and-sea-salt crackers for my plane ride), etc.

Early on in my sojourn, I posted about the adorable appliances in my kitchen. Well, my love affair with French efficiency doesn't end there. Just take a look at this baby.

Let me just say I loathe vacuuming. We all have that one task that sets our teeth on edge; my Mom hates dusting, others hate doing dishes or laundry. For me, it's the drudgery and back-ache of vacuuming.

So imagine my delight at meeting this absolutely doll: the Samsung euro vacuum (not its actual technical name, FYI). First off, it's a Samsung, so I feel as if I'm talking on a mobile instead of doing housework. Second, it's got incredible power for such a little guy: I had to turn it off at one point, it was so eager to suck up an entire throw rug. Third, it's just so well-designed: easy to use, easy to carry, easy to pull around, easy to zip into corners.

For some of you, this might seem like the most unromantic Paris post in the history of blogging. But for those of you who curse the pathetic and enraging design flaws of everyday gadgets like vacuum cleaners, this innocuous-looking gadget will be, as it was for me, a testimony to the potential of humankind to evolve to new levels of dignity and grace.

And it's so damn cute, too: the Wall-E of the vacuum world.

Speaking of cute: I bought this hairdryer just as something to use this month; I was planning to leave it behind. But at this point, after its three weeks of selfless service, and its absolutely adorable looks, I'm just too attached. It will be crammed in somewhere, bejaysus.

jours nos. 23 + 24 - say it ain't so!

2009-05-23T06:05:00.004-04:00

I'm shocked. It's coming to an end, my sojourn, after which I have literally No Plans. Suggestions on what to do with my life are very welcome.

I did get one lovely vision of a potential future from Amy, who I met last night; she's a friend of a friend, but hopefully now just a friend. She's American but has lived here for years and years, in an absolutely lovely house just west of the 17e, where it's very lush and parklike. At any rate, after telling her and her two friends (one of whom is such a dead ringer for Julia Roberts, both in looks and voice, that I kept feeling like I was in the dinner party scene in Notting Hill) the overview of how I ended up with time to kill and a trip to Paris, Amy said, very decisively, "This is what you do. You move to Paris, rent this room from me, get paid to have lunch with French businessmen who want to improve their English. You meet my friends, join one of the 150 expat associations, I'll introduce you to handsome French men."

Voilà.

Meanwhile, I'm cleaning out the pantry. Breakfast today: melon, grapefruit juice, tea, yogurt with honey, croissant, and fig bread.

I feel gooooooood.

jour no. 23 - Hélène Darroze

2009-05-23T05:55:00.004-04:00

Hélène Darroze is considered one of the top foodie restaurants in the city, and the prices reflect that: mains at dinner range from 56 to 75 euros, or you can spring for the 175 euro prix fixe. So afternoon tea, at 28 euros complete with a glass of Pol Roger, is an absolutely bargain, and I don't want to hear any disagreement.

We had tartines, one with Spanish-style ham and a tomato confit, and the other with fresh cheese with olives and favas. Then came what basically turned into The Jam Course: along with a drop-dead amazing olive oil madeleine, a sweet fruit bread, a ginger scone, and a pot of clotted cream, our charming back-up waiter brought over a tray of confiture from an Alsacian artisan named Cristine Ferber; Gina had been on the lookout for these babies, as she'd heard they're the best, and I wouldn't argue. The poor guy had to stand there forever while we each dollopped spoonfuls of various flavors on our plates: vanilla-apricot, rose petal, fig, framboise...

To close, a chocolate creation that had a layer of crunchy chocolate meringue and a layer of hazelnut cake, as well as a chocolate-yuzu macaroon and a cannot-be-topped lemon macaroon with a filling of salted caramel.

Oh, and we had tea, too (darjeeling for me, an herbal infusion for Katie, and jasmine for the other two ladies).

Then we had a frenzied shopping session in the Grande Epicerie, Bon Marché's huge gourmet market, where I picked up a couple more gifts, as well as, pour moi, fruit pâtes (high-end Chuckles) and yet more honey. The pâtes were an unusual purchase for me in that they're lightweight; my luggage is going to weigh a ton. I'll be crippled by the time I hit JFK.

jour no. 23 - the final days: the checklist

2009-05-23T05:18:00.006-04:00

Another lovely, delicious day in Paris. Warm and sunny and breezy, lively and bustling, and filled with fattening temptations.

Since Thursday was yet another fête (Feast of the Ascension, third holiday this month), and since kids had Friday off as well, there seemed to be a lot of out-of-town Frenchies on holiday in the big city, as well as lots and lots and lots of Americans (Memorial Day weekend, maybe?). It was kind of a pain in some respects (those damn lines at the museums), but also kind of fun - like the city was a big carnival.

I got out of the house relatively early (for me) - around 12:30. I stopped by Eric Kayser for croissants (note usage of the plural) and a loaf of fig bread. These ouvriers were picking up baguettes and sandwichs (for some reason, in French, the plural of "sandwich" is "sandwichs" instead of "sandwiches"; the copy editor in me flinches every time). I love the universal appeal of really good bread in France; Eric Kayser is not the cheapest place in the world to get a baguette, but you'll get one of the best baguettes of your life, just like these guys, who were amused at having their (blurry) picture taken.

I will miss Eric Kayser...

I went over to the 7e to hit the posh Bon Marché to find a gift for my hosts in absentia. While perhaps not as grand as Galeries Lafayette, Bon Marché is no slouch in the Gorgeous Department Store category, and not only did I find a lovely gift, but I had a very enjoyable hour amongst the accessories. You really don't understand the art of shopping till you've watched French women shopping for scarves; it's awe-inspiring. And I was of course giddy that there was a hat section and a glove section and a scarf section, as opposed to a shelf of hats, and a counter for gloves, and a rack of scarves.

I bought a few more gifts, then lugged my loot over to Jardin du Luxembourg to kill some time. I hadn't been back since Jour No. 4, and whaddya know: I've been in Paris long enough for there to be a complete change in flora at the gardens.

Then to Hélène Darroze, to meet Katie and her visiting friends for afternoon tea. But that gets its own post...

jour no. 23 - Vendôme

2009-05-22T04:53:00.003-04:00

I love this crazy monument, and that's not even taking its fantastic history into account.

Place Vendôme was created by Louis XIV, who intended it to center on a giant statue of (who else) the Roi Soleil, in Roman dress but with a 17th-century wig. Luckily, this was never built.

Instead, in 1810, Napoleon had the Column built, to honor his victory at Austerlitz (as if the Arc du Carrousel wasn't enough). But that's not the end of the story. During the Restoration, in 1818,

...the statue of Napoleon was removed, melted down, and replaced by a giant fleur-de-lys. Then, in 1833, Louis-Philippe - always keen to oblige the prevailing mood - had the Emperor restored complete with bicorne hat; but the statue displeased his nephew, Napoleon III, who removed it to Les Invalides and replaced it with a copy of the original figure. In 1871, the Commune revolutionaries - under the guidance of the painter Gustave Courbet (!!! -Ed.) - brought the whole column tumbling down. Finally in 1875, Republican President McMahon had it restored with the present-day figure crowned in Caesarean laurels. (Seven Ages of Paris, Alistair Horne)

Oh, those nutty French! Just can't make up their minds about anything.

jour no. 22 - disorienting

2009-05-22T04:43:00.002-04:00

We trekked to the 13e for some Vietnamese food at Le Bambou. Overall, it was great to have something other than rich French food, but a lot of the dishes were sweet, which isn't my thing (I tend to like my savory to be savory), and I didn't get as much of a spice fix as I needed.

And, as with Grand Sichuan in New York, something about waiting outside, then having mad waiters runners around and taking your order within two minutes, and the food coming out hot and fast - anyway, I ate way too much, way too fast.
As with the Japanese restaurant a couple weeks ago, I found it so disorienting to be in an Asian restaurant in Paris. I just could not get my languages straight, so even ordering a couple more beers threw me off; for some reason, I kept wanting to say, "Dos cervezas, por favor." The synapses would not fire.

But it was fun to have the waiter in this scruffy joint say, after clearing the table, "Voilà!"

jour no. 22 - le bateau

2009-05-22T04:22:00.005-04:00

I've always wanted to do this! Maybe our leisurely afternoon cruise wasn't as glamorous as Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant dining on a fancy bateau (i.e., no fab hairdo, no moonlight, no international intrigue, and no Cary Grant), but still: it's great. Despite the pushy crowd, despite the crackling speaker, despite the tour guide who gave ten times as much info in French as in English - I loved it.

There are a slew of different tour boat companies on the Seine, and each has a different array of boats. We chose Bateaux Parisiens, which has a dock right across from Notre Dame, and lucked out with the boat: it had an open-air top deck, and then a small section of seats in the stern, which we wisely chose, thereby avoiding most of the crowd, as well as the tourguide.

I didn't learn very much about the monuments and other sights, thanks to that crackly speaker and the tour guide's abbreviated English version (after giving a load of history and fun facts and architectural points in French about whatever sight we were seeing, she'd then say something like, "On your right, the Concorde"). But it was a lovely day, and overall, the experience was just as satisfying as I'd hoped. And I picked out a couple of options for my future home (either an apartment on Ile-St-Louis, or a bateau like this one; you can all come for dinner).

Plus a couple of "only in France" moments: the tourguide announcing halfway through that we'd be stopping for five minutes for the crew's dinner break (!!!), and a bizarre over-aggressive-French-guy-in-training with great hair who put the moves on Katie.

jour no. 22 - le fumoir

2009-05-22T04:04:00.004-04:00

Pia and I found this place last year: it had a good-looking crowd, a cool vibe, and that je ne sais quoi that could be called restaurant charisma.

After a late start yesterday (I was very tired after all that artifying the day before), I got on the Métro rather aimlessly, wondering where I could get something nourishing to eat at the odd hour of 3pm. Then, "Le Fumoir!," I thought, maybe not with an exclamation point, as I was very tired, but definitely with satisfaction.

Le Fumoir is right off the Métro, just west of the Louvre. Since yesterday was yet another holiday in France, there were quite a few people hanging out in the sidewalk café, but inside was relatively quiet, and felt very cool and refreshing compared to the strong sun and heat outside (it was summer weather yesterday). Also, since there's no smoking allowed in bars and restaurants now (though I can't explain the place near my apartment where everyone is smoking hookahs), the terrace of most restaurants is Secondhand Smoke Central. So I took a seat at the bar.

More reasons to appreciate Le Fumoir: it's a very handsome restaurant, it serves all day, the bartenders know how to make real cocktails (a rarity in Paris), there's a big selection of super-fresh juice combos, and the people-watching is excellent.

I had a yummy caesar-style salad, with romaine, haricots verts, white asparagus (which I still don't understand the point of), roast chicken, tons of parmesan shavings, and croutons. And a bergamot-mint iced tea. And a café, which comes with gingersnaps. I read the International Herald Tribune and felt very cosmopolitan, indeed.

jour no. 22 - speaking of cars...

2009-05-21T18:37:00.005-04:00

... here are a few good reasons to not want the French auto industry to completely collapse.

On the other hand, they don't make 'em like this any more, so maybe the industry should collapse (more than it already has, I mean).

jour no. 21 - Zazie dans le Métro

2009-05-21T18:26:00.005-04:00

This was on television the other night. It was such an odd movie - I won't even get into it - but I of course was quite thrilled to be sitting in Paris, watching Zazie and the others clown around every major landmark in the city. I did end up with some serious car envy, however: all those great 1950s Citroëns and Fiats and Peugeots... Even the epic traffic jam looked glamorous to me.

And Catherine Demongeot was pretty irresistible in the title role, causing chaos wherever she went, driving all the adults to distraction, and throwing temper tantrums at not being able to fulfill her dream during her weekend in Paris: all she wants to do is ride the Métro, and the Métro is shut down due to a strike.

Classic.

jour no. 21 - Châtelet

2009-05-21T18:11:00.006-04:00

On the strong recommendation of several friends, I made a point of going to a performance at Châtelet. My choice was the Orchestre symphonique de Navarre, with a program that included Stravinsky's Firebird - I'm a huge fan of Stravinsky's ballet music.

Also, it was a perfect choice, location-wise, as Ballets Russes performed for the first time at Châtelet, in 1909.

Châtelet is definitely less wacky than Garnier - it's smaller, more restrained, more serious. But it's still gorgeous, and feels very Parisian.

Firebird was of course my fave, but it was also a treat to hear two pieces by Manuel de Falla (1876-1946), including yet another Diaghilev connection, "El Sombrero de tres picos," or "Le Tricorne." Both Falla pieces included lots of traditional Spanish bits; you could hear some flamenco, a call to the bulls, lots of folk music.

A highlight, for me, was watching the two free agents on the percussion team race from instrument to instrument, clearly having the time of their lives: to the snare drums! grab the castanets! where's the triangle? slide over to the cymbals! then over to the xylophone! back to the snares! bust out the tambourine!

I've put Percussionist on the list of possible future careers.

jour no. 21 - possible souvenir

2009-05-21T07:29:00.003-04:00

I just feel, at this point in my life, that this t-shirt sums it up, in the way only a t-shirt can.

jour no. 21 - courtyard at the Louvre

2009-05-21T07:28:00.002-04:00

Loved spotting these guys amidst the crowds of tourists and pigeons.

jour no. 21 - The Louvre, part deux: the bad, the ugly

2009-05-21T07:18:00.004-04:00

Anyone opposed to snobbery and misanthropy, please skip this post.

OK, now the rest of you (which I gather is everyone, but especially Jonathan), let me tell you about the Dark Side of the Louvre: the crowds and crowds of lemming-like tourists running from one Must-See to another.

Despite being from just about every country on the planet, these people all seemed exactly alike (to me). It was like, "Tracksuits of the World, Unite!"

If you wish to join their club, here's how it works: Find a Major Work of Art (Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, statue of Ramses II), stand with your back to it, have your picture taken, check to make sure you got the photo, and rush off to the next item on the list. Rinse, repeat.

The frenzy around the Venus de Milo reminded me of a red carpet scene, and standing behind her, you get this view of a wall of cameras and cameraphones and camcorders.

It was horrid. Luckily, as with the Met, the place is big enough that most of your experience can be relatively calm. But do not count on having a serene moment of contemplation of this lovely statue.

jour no. 21 - The Louvre.

2009-05-21T06:46:00.009-04:00

Well, I did the Louvre, and have the blister to prove it (I'll spare you a photo of that).

I wanted to post images of the works that I most enjoyed, amidst the sheer overwhelming mass of ART in this place, but the Louvre website is a disaster, and despite mad searching, I couldn't find the Caravaggio I loved, or the Titian, or the Parmigiano, or any of the dozens and dozens of "Interieure d'Eglise" in the Flemish section (I love those interiors - you can see how ecstatic those painters were to have discovered perspective).

So just so you know: I started in Sully, checked out the Egyptian section, which was impressive, if only for the amount of lugging Napoleon's guys must have done to get all this stuff up to Paris. And I loved the intimidating statues of the gods.

Then I went up to the Flemish / Dutch / German / etc. section, which involved walking through lots of 17th- and 18th-century French paintings. Let's just say it was a relief to get to the Richelieu wing and see trillions of austere, relatively muted Dutch paintings. I don't think trillions is an exaggeration: some rooms (like the one I've got here) had the paintings hung one on top of another, and there are 40 rooms in the section. One of the two Vermeers was in Tokyo, but the other, The Astrologer, was a highlight for me. And the aforementioned church interiors.

The Rubens room was a kick. Marie de Médicis, widow of Henri IV, regent for her son, Louis XIII, commissioned Rubens to paint a series of works depicting the big events in her life. They don't make vanity like this any more; there she is, being educated by the muses, and there's Jupiter and Juno, smiling as Henri IV swoons at his first sight of Marie's portrait, and then there's Marie and Henri's wedding, where they've become Jupiter and Juno, etc. Basically, the gods and angels are rejoicing left and right, as Marie quashes Envy, Ignorance, and Want.

Then it was off to the Italian paintings, over in the Denon wing. The grand hall of Italian paintings starts in the 15th century and works its way down to the 18th, and, well, when you first enter, you think, "No. Way." You can't even see the end of it all.

It was worth battling the crowd to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa, smiling serenely (and maybe a bit ironically) behind her bullet-proof casing. But it's even better to stand along in front of one of the other Leonardos, like the beautiful "La Vierge aux rochers." Or the Raphaels. Or the Titians. Or the Boticellis and Fra Angelicos and Caravaggios...

I love looking at the early Italian religious paintings, each one about half paint, half gold leaf. I've always liked them, but more since 9/11; one of the first things I did in the week after that day was meet Nicole at the Met so we could look at really beautiful things that had been around a really long time. It helped a bit.

I went up to a terrace cafe after that, which looked like a great option (outside on a lovely day, not a bad menu) and turned out to be the first dreadful food experience of my trip (pre-packaged sandwich brought to my table in its packaging, awful bread that reminded me of Wonder, the world's most aggressive pigeons who couldn't take their beady eyes off of all the bread I couldn't eat, and an Italian guy smoking stinky brown cigarettes). I fled.

and speaking of shopping...

2009-05-19T18:01:00.003-04:00

...picked these babies up yesterday. Walked out of Poîlane, spied them in the window of a shop across the street, went in, tried them on, et voilà!

Total time invested: maybe four minutes.

jour no. 20 - now THIS is what shopping should be like

2009-05-19T17:52:00.011-04:00

Mesdames and messieurs, je vous presente Galeries Lafayette.

I ask you, how could I not buy something?

{Final tally: two sweaters, a gift, and a pile o' stuff from the gourmet shop, including take-out carrot-and-cumin salad, tabbouleh, sardine tagine, and eggplant salad.}

jour no. 20 - Haussmann, pro or con?

2009-05-19T17:11:00.003-04:00

"For all Haussmann's massive public works, the salient feature of his new Paris was the apartment building. His standardized block, running for hundreds of unbroken meters down the new boulevards, was both an extrapolation of Napoleon I's Rue de Rivoli and a product of the new industrial age.... The overall intent was that the visual impact should be that of the street rather than of the individual building."

{From Seven Ages of Paris, by Alistair Horne}

jour no. 19 - poîlane

2009-05-19T07:01:00.002-04:00

Picked up some of the deservedly legendary bread, along with a bag of butter cookies that ended up giving me insomnia (maybe because I ate at least 20 - no exaggeration - while watching dubbed Almodovar films on tv).

jour no. 19 - hitting a landmark

2009-05-19T06:57:00.005-04:00

Coffee at Café de Flore - it's a must, even if a cup will set you back 4,60 euros. Note that you can get an omelet here for around 10 euros, so it would actually be possible to eat here without having to skip your post-lunch shopping spree.

Plus, you might get to watch the Republican Guard ride by.

jour no. 19 - rive gauche

2009-05-19T06:49:00.002-04:00

On the first of hopefully a string of lovely sunny days, Katie and I met for an al fresco lunch at Au Pied de Fouet, in the 7e, for some serious traditional food. I had leeks vinaigrette to start, followed by confit de canard with more mashed potatoes, while Katie opted for steak in a green-peppercorn cream sauce. Arteries, beware.

And I ask your forgiveness, yet again, for forgetting to take a picture of this delicious food. Here's what happens: I'm sitting at the table, hungry; the plates arrive, and all rational thought zips out of my head, leaving only the impulse to devour my food; as I sit afterwards, sated and dazed, I inevitably think, "Shoot, forgot to take a picture for the blog." I plead inexperience: this is my first blogging experience, so please cut me some slack.

Anyway, I did remember to take an "After" photo of the confit and potatoes...

jour no. 18 - mon vieil ami

2009-05-19T06:32:00.003-04:00

After yet another cinema excursion (afternoon showing of "Good Morning England" in a big comfy theater with a huge screen and good sound - take that, New York!), I met my friend Michael in the Marais for a drink. We sat outside at Les Philosophes, which is prime people-watching territory, and had some chablis and enjoyed the newly warm weather.

We strolled over the Pont Louis Philippe to Ile Saint-Louis and had an amazing dinner at Mon Vieil Ami. After all the rich food of the previous couple of days, I nearly swooned with the arrival of my first course: a beautiful shallow bowl of vegetables - beets, carrots, broccoli, peas, favas, new potatoes, tomato, cauliflower, sprouts - you name it. They were bright and fresh and lightly cooked, with a little bit of a simple broth as seasoning. And Reader, I confess: I was so thrilled, it never occurred to me to stop and take a photo.

We then had a terrine of lamb, with a chickpea puree and some zucchini and summer squash, all followed by a cherry clafoutis with ginger ice cream and raspberry sauce, and all accompanied by a bright and refreshing mineral-y red from Languedoc.

Mon Vieil Ami is a lovely restaurant - an elegant and modern room, serving elegant and modern food. It's one to make note of, especially since it's open on Sundays, unlike 99.9 percent of the restaurants here.

falling behind....

2009-05-19T04:08:00.006-04:00

I've got some serious posting to do about the delicious food I've had over the past couple of days (and about my new shoes!), but meanwhile, is this not The Face of France? He's almost a cartoon character.

{photo taken on the Métro, surreptiously, à la Walker Evans}

jour no. 17 - back to Le Verre Volé

2009-05-17T07:40:00.007-04:00

Last night, we couldn't resist: we headed back to Le Verre Volé to repeat our wonderful dinner of the night before.

We went for the escargots with morels again, along with the giant asparagus and a dish of smoked duck breast with sautéed cabbage. We also tried the pâté de campagne, which was so rich and flavorful. And the owner chose two great bottles of red for us from his selection of "bio" wines (organic and natural).

For my main, I finally had some confit du canard - so decadent - with mashed potatoes and more asparagus.

We managed to save room for dessert this time. Katie went for the chocolate, while I chose the frozen strawberry thingamabob.

The restaurant was just as lively and friendly and warm as we'd remembered. I bet I'll squeeze in at least one more visit before the week is out.

jour no. 17 - le marché aux puces

2009-05-17T07:33:00.004-04:00

After a slow morning, we met up at the flea market to devote a few hours to rummaging and exploring. I didn't have any luck finding something both irresistible and affordable (though I'm still dreaming about a lovely painting I saw at the end of the day, as well as the very tempting array of vintage Jaeger-LeCoultre watches), but it was definitely worth it to see everything on offer (like this robe for a petite fille).

jour no. 16 - food + wine extravaganza

2009-05-16T06:31:00.004-04:00

I headed to the 11e arrondissement last night to meet Katie and Jim. I got there about an hour early, to give myself time to stroll around, as I hadn't yet been to this part of town. Verdict: I love it. It's the first part of town where I really feel I could live – lots of shops and restaurants and wine bars, very friendly and laid-back people, lots of fun crowds, and great food for not too much cash.

I had a coffee at L'Autre Cafe, a slightly beat-up cafe/bar/restaurant. I just sat at the lovely zinc bar, read Liberation, and tried out some of my French on the bartender.

Then we all met up at La Cave du Duron, a tiny wine shop / wine bar, which is a fave spot of Katie's friend Jim, in town from Frankfurt. What a great find - I wish I'd come across it Week One, as it's a perfect hangout.

After a bottle of wine there, and a half bottle in a big crowded spot on the canal (yes, canal!), we went to Le Verre Volé for dinner. It too is a wine-shop-slash, but with a full menu of absolutely delish food - the kind of meal you come to Paris for. It's very very casual, very cramped, with a kitchen the size of a breadbox, and the food is wonderful – traditional dishes, fresh and flavorful and ultimately irrestistible, and like nothing you'd get back home.

We had five (5) appetizers: escargots in cream with garlic; pâté en croûte; giant asparagus with butter and the biggest capers I've ever seen; prawns with an eggplant puree; and (not for me, thanks) pig ears. All this and a basket of rustic bread – we were happy as could be.

For my main, I had a special of sautéed rouget with spring vegetables (baby turnips, carrots, and potatoes, along with peas and asparagus); Katie had duck leg with mashed potatoes; and Jim had a giant meatball-type thing that was very dark and rich and tangy, along with his own pile of mashed potatoes.

We ate and drank and ate and drank for hours, until at 2am, they closed up shop. That's when I learned the Métro actually SHUTS DOWN AT NIGHT. Just when you think Paris is amazing, it goes and pulls a bonehead move like closing up the Métro every night. I was tempted to grab a Velib and ride home, but it was pretty far, and pretty chilly, and I'd had all that wine... Anyway, Jim found me a cab, and I had a very peaceful drive across the city.

We're going to repeat this scenario tonight. Bring it on.

jour no. 16 - after the rain

2009-05-16T06:27:00.003-04:00

Friday was gray and rainy, until late afternoon, when the light became luminous – and the breeze quite chilly. There was a definite feel of autumn in the air, which only contributed to my overarching confusion: what day is it, where am I, what year is this, what am I doing with my life...

Still, it was lovely.

jour no. 16 - the march of time

2009-05-15T05:58:00.005-04:00

My friends, where did this week go? My first week here was so long and leisurely and filled with pastry. The second week: poof.

Alors, I have to make a not-too-daunting list of everything that still needs to be done, before I turn back into an all-American pumpkin on the 24th. Suggestions are welcome.

{pic: another gorgeous d'Orsay clock}

jour no. 15 - le ciné

2009-05-14T17:55:00.004-04:00

OK, I admit it, I'm kind of hooked on movies here in Paree. It's just, there are so many OPTIONS. My fellow New Yorkers, I don't even need to splain, right? The movie theater sitch in NYC is dreadful, right?

If you don't think so, spend some time here. You'll just die. You could go to the movies all day, every day, and never ever come to the end.

To add to the enticement, one of the movie theater chains here has a promotion this week: every movie, every day, every seat, for 3 euros. Hello!

So I went to see something that here is called "Un Mariage de Reve," and in England was called "Easy Virtue," and which I don't remember hearing about under any name in the U.S. Based on the Noel Coward play, with Jessica Biel and Colin Firth (who can tango! who knew?) and Kristin Scott Thomas. Quite enjoyable, I must say – especially Jessica Biel's wardrobe (see photo, pls). Those wide-legged trousers! Those spectators! The jaunty jackets!

*sigh*

One little note on Parisian movie audiences: they talk during previews. And I don't mean like this:

person one, in a low tone: "Oh, I heard about this movie."
-long pause-
person two, also in a low tone: "Oh, look, it's Liam Neeson."
-long pause-
p1: "Let's go see that."

No no no. Here, everyone talks, full volume, paying absolutely no attention to the previews. It's just general conversation, continuing from dinner or what not, and just sounds like this:

"Blah de la blah de la blah de la blah de la blah de la blah de la blah de la blah."

Etc. Me no likey.

jour no. 15 - dejeuner with Eric Kayser AGAIN

2009-05-14T17:45:00.004-04:00

I just can't resist this place. Today, I picked up a smoked salmon and chèvre sandwich, along with a tarte normande (a custard tart with apples and almonds). Loverly.

jour no. 15 - so is it a CIRCUS school?

2009-05-14T17:38:00.003-04:00

Whilst looking out the kitchen window, I spotted this unusual activity in the schoolyard below. Rather than a general melee of shrieking children, there were a few kids apparently prepping to run away with the cirque.

jour no. 14 - musee d'orsay, parte deux

2009-05-14T17:23:00.005-04:00

My favorite part of d'Orsay (other than the giant clocks) was a temporary exhibit called "Oublier Rodin?"

It is one of those great exhibits that (a) teaches you a lot; (b) has a bunch of interesting and gorgeous artworks; and (c) isn't overwhelming. It covers sculpture in Paris from 1905 to 1914, and takes you through various artists' evolution, and how it all related to Rodin and his immense influence, which apparently was quite stifling (as a quote in the exhibit put it, "Pour la plupart des jeunes artistes qui cherchaient leur développement et leur identité, le problème, c'était Rodin").

This is the exhibit that introduced me to Wilhelm Lehmbruck, who I need to read up on (the first and last photos here are details of his works). From what I gather, he studied with Rodin, and his early works were very Rodinesque, but then he broke with the master and made pieces that were less knotty and massive, and more streamlined, elegant - quieter, really, but very powerful (to me). He died young, at age 37 or 38; I believe he killed himself, but I'm not sure. The exhibit also had a bunch of his drawings and paintings, which I was drawn to over and over again.

Before I realized it was against the rules of this particular exhibit, I took these pictures of some of the compelling faces.

jour no. 14 - musee d'orsay

2009-05-14T16:22:00.015-04:00

Well, I did it. I actually went to a museum here in Paris and WENT IN, instead of gasping in horror at the sight of the line and turning briskly on my heel. Of course, my strategy of buying the ticket a day ahead was unnecessary, as there (for the first time! I swear!) was no line, but having the ticket did force me to get out the door and get over there.

Good thing, too, because it was wonderful. I dimly remembered that the space (a former train station) was dramatic and all that, but still: you gotta see it. Beautiful building, beautiful light, beautiful clock – and of course, the art ain't bad, neither.

The place is packed to the rafters with pre-Impressionism and Impressionism and post-Impressionism – all the big guns are there. I have to say, though, that (for me) it's hard to be moved by those paintings at this point in time. They've been so endlessly reproduced and knocked off and postcardized; I can recognize that that Corot landscape is lovely, as is this Monet vase of flowers over here, but there is no frisson pour moi; it mostly looks like stuff you'd pick up at an art fair at the Hilton, complete with cheesy gold frames.

That being said, a few things just jump right off the wall: Cassatt's "Jeune Fille au Jardin," Manet's "Berthe Morisot," pretty much everything by Cezanne (except those vases of flowers – ugh, I say), Bonnard's "Femme au Chat," van Gogh's "Eglise," Seurat's little paintings, an early (and surprising)

Mondrian landscape, and an amazing Japanese-influenced landscape by Whistler (hanging right next to his mom).

A few new names on my list: Carriere, with his very gray and murky portraits; Ferdinand Hodler; William Henderson's landscapes; absolutely everything by Odilon Redon, but especially the pastel portrait of his son; and, maybe most of all, Wilhelm Lehmbruck, who I never ever heard of. (More on him in the next post.)

I walked my poor little feet to death, but it was well worth it.

{artists, from top: Manet, Cassatt, Mondrian, Carriere, Hodler}

jour no. 14 - exactement.

2009-05-14T13:13:00.002-04:00

"I love the horizons of this big city with all my heart... depending on whether a ray of sunshine brightens Paris, or a dull sky lets it dream, it resembles a joyful and melancholy poem. This is art, all around us. A living art, an art still unknown."
Emile Zola

jour no. 13 - "earlier that day...."

2009-05-13T04:09:00.007-04:00

I was all a-buzz with my ballet experience last night, and neglected to post about the rest of my day: exhausting French lesson in the morning, in which I spoke with the fluidity of a tiny child learning her first words (my French is regressing; this was not the plan), then went to the 7ème for lunch and a visit to Musée d'Orsay.

Lunch was at Cuisine de Bar, a small spot next to Poîlane. Cuisine de Bar specializes in tartines (open-faced sandwiches) made on Poîlane's tangy, chewy bread. My lunch was fine, but no great shakes: the formule included a small salad to start, which was kind of a joke; it seemed a cross between the salad you'd get with your bento box meal at a Japanese place in NYC, and the salad I vaguely (despite industrious efforts at deep repression) remember from elementary school cafeteria: it was chopped-up iceberg, with a sweet dressing, a sprinkle of raisins, and a sprinkle of kidney beans. My (internal) response: Huh? Am I still in Paris?

The sandwich was perfectly fine, but not fab. I got mozzarella and tomato with basil. Way too much mozz, in my mind (a problem with the pizza last week, too), which overloaded the sandwich, and the tomatoes were weak. When I eat a bad tomato like that in a good restaurant, I think of Union Square Cafe, which refuses to serve its delicious BLTs out of season.

French people eat their tartines (and their pizza) with a knife and fork. So fine. Probably just as well, as the crusts were tough to saw through.

After, I headed to d'Orsay, feeling so smug that I was finally going to a museum, and that I was avoiding the weekend crowds. I came around the corner and voila! A line like you'd see outside MoMA on an August afternoon. I thought, "I've come all this way...," so I dutifully queued up and managed to handle it for about 25 seconds, at which point I split. But as I fled, I noticed a dusty little office with a sign that seemed to say something about advance tickets, so I went in and clumsily asked the guy, "Can I buy a ticket for tomorrow?"

"Oui."

"And then do I have to wait in that line?"

"Non."

"Un billet pour demain, svp."

So I'm heading back today, hopefully with a victory against The Line.

Then I had the afternoon open ahead of me, and the pull of the dingy Paris movie theater was too great. I went to see Carole Lombard in "Nothing Sacred" (called, confusingly, "La Joyeuse Suicidée" here); not my fave movie, but it was a delight to hear all that kooky 1930s slang. I wonder if they just made up whole batches of slang whenever they made a movie about New York newspapers, or mobsters, or chorus girls.

I strolled around a bit after. I bought a couple gifts (at least, I think they're gifts, unless I get greedy) at this funny shop with the spiky sculpture/sign, and then had to stop in a perfect sliver of a chocolate shop and buy this sac of cocoa almonds; each one has a crunchy coating, then dark chocolate, then cocoa. And it was only 10 euros, instead of the 20 I spent on that tiny bag of orangettes, so I feel it was an incredible bargain.

I crossed over to Ile de la Cité and was enjoying the views and the late sunshine, when all of a sudden, I actually jumped: "Oh jeez, I'm going to the ballet tonight!" It was 6pm, ballet starts at 7:30, and I was in jeans and sneaks. So there was a mad dash to the apartment, a mad dash to change and primp and snack, and a mad dash back to town. I felt there needed to be zany music playing on the soundtrack.

But, as you know from my earlier post, I made it.

jour no. 13 - le palais garnier

2009-05-12T18:01:00.013-04:00

Tonight (Tuesday), I went to the Palais Garnier – the opera house in the center of town – to see the Paris Opera Ballet perform Onegin. It was quite an entertaining evening: I had a great seat (spoiled! won't sit in the rafters!), Aurelie Dupont and Nicolas La Riche were lovely, the last 15 seconds of the ballet more than redeemed some of the goofily awkward choreography throughout, and WOW what a crazy-looking theater! It's kind of a hot mess – gilt up the wazoo, and a million different styles and periods and knockoffs, all jumbled together in a way that, somehow, just works.

The theater was begun in the mid 1800s, during Haussmann's wholesale overhaul of the city. In "Seven Ages of Paris," Alastair Horne writes, "Perhaps the age is best epitomized by Charles Garnier's new Opéra, which in its florid magnificence [exactly!!] symbolized the wealth of the day, its affection for the new rococo, with just a touch of vulgarity."

I'd say maybe more than just a touch, but oddly, even as you're cracking up at the Chagall ceiling surrounded by gold crowns and wreaths and coats of arms or whatever, you're still just thrilled – absolutely thrilled – to be sitting in such an over-the-top place. You definitely feel that you're at an event, that this is not just any old night on the town.

Especially, I might add, as you enjoy a coupe de champagne on the terrace at intermish, marvelling that at 9pm, it's still daylight.

jour no. 12 - mishmash

2009-05-12T06:25:00.007-04:00

To be honest, I didn't have a very foodie weekend – or at least, I didn't eat much that was blog-worthy (I don't know how many pix of flaky, buttery, rich croissants you want to see). Still, it was pretty great.

Yesterday, I had coffee in this goofy pink café near my apartment, then met Katie for a mini Audrey Hepburn marathon. Among the many things that Paris has that New York does not (pastry on every corner, Velib, a functioning subway system) are great independent movie theaters, specializing in classics or art films or what have you.

This gem in the 17th, just off the Etoile, was honoring Audrey Hepburn on what would have been her 80th birthday. Yesterday, we started with "Roman Holiday," had a break for a glass of wine and a bag of super-salty Monoprix potato chips, then returned for "Diamants sur Canapé," the very odd French translation of "Breakfast at Tiffany's."

After, we headed to the 1er arrondissement to pick a Japanese restaurant off of the strip along Rue de Ste Anne. The ramen joint we ended up in was fine - no great shakes, especially compared to the options in NYC. Still, it was bizarrely fun to be ordering Japanese food in French.

Before getting on the Metro to return home, I wandered around the Louvre courtyards a bit. The Louvre is beautifully lit at night, there were quite a few blissful-looking souls strolling about, and, of course, there was a guy playing his saxophone.

As I said, it was pretty great.

jour no. 10 - charade

2009-05-10T08:13:00.003-04:00

Question: What could be more satisfying than this: watching Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant banter their way from one iconic Paris spot to another (Les Halles, Palais Royale, un bateau mouche, the Quai), Hepburn in a series of envy-inducing Givenchy ensembles (including a parade of perfect spring coats, with long gloves in various colors), while one sits in a creaky movie house IN PARIS?

Answer: for me, not much.

jour no. 10 - il pleut

2009-05-09T10:21:00.004-04:00

Folks back home who have been suffering through a week of rain will be relieved to know that the weather has turned here, as well – it's gray and drizzly and chilly. A perfect day to eat like mad.

I was very productive this morning. Got up and out the door by 10 (despite being out late with Katie last night, eating delicious antipasti and thin-crust pizza at La Briciola and drinking way too much rosé), and figured out the Velib system. How incredible! For 5 euros, I've got a seven-day pass to pick up a bike whenever I like, from any of the hundreds of stands around the city. So I cruised over to the 1er arrondissement to go to Darty (the Best Buy of France) to buy a new camera, as my beloved Sony finally died, after gasping for a few months. We'll see if I like the photos from this new one as much.

Then I made my obligatory stop at Eric Kayser, this time for a croissant and a pain aux raisins, which made for a rather decadent breakfast.

Just a couple of hours later, I was back outside, this time on foot, in the rain, to pick up a poulet rôti, a baguette, and some vegetables, for a delicious lunch. I did have some trouble carving the poulet; it took me a while to realize it was trussed upside down, and that there was actually quite a lot of breast meat once I turned the thing over. I had been thinking French chickens were awfully scrawny.

jour no. 9 - le dejeuner, tuileries

2009-05-08T11:25:00.005-04:00

Today wasn't quite as lovely as yesterday - it was a bit cloudy and chilly - but it's a holiday, so the gardens were filled with happy French people, enjoying their second three-day weekend in a row. I picked up lunch at Eric Kayser: poached chicken and tomato confit on rustic baguette, Pellegrino (because the other option was Vittel, which I loathe), and, because it was included in the lunch deal, a tarte au citron, which you can just see peeking out of its little box. I ate my lunch, and read my book, and watched the people and the birds, and was très contente.

jour no. 9 - VE Day

2009-05-08T11:18:00.004-04:00

It takes me a while to get out the door in the morning. There's the yogurt / tea / fruit breakfast, and the tidying up, and the primping, and the blog tweaking, and the figuring out which arrondissement to visit, and reading about lunch options, and so forth. It's shocking how much time this can eat up. I haven't been outside before noon since I arrived, and today was no different. So if there was a VE Day parade, I missed it, but I have to say, the giant flag at the Arc de Triomphe was very effective.

jour no. 9 - french lesson

2009-05-08T05:56:00.003-04:00

My vocabulary in French is pretty limited, so, when I'm trying to say something and don't know the word, I tend to just say the word in English, but with a full-on Pepé Le Peu accent. Half the time, this actually works. For instance, at the market, I wanted one of these gorgeous melons, but I didn't want to just point and lamely smile. I wanted to ask for one: "Monsieur, je voudrais un melon," pronounced "may-LONN," with a suitable rolling of the L. It worked, and thank goodness. This may-LONN was parfait.

jour no. 8 - speaking of food...

2009-05-07T17:41:00.007-04:00

...I haven't been writing much about food the last day or so, but please don't let that give you the idea that I haven't been eating. In fact, as we speak, I'm devouring a lovely, rich, dense chocolate crottin from Eric Kayser, despite the fact that:

(a) I'm full
(b) I'm really starting to feel a little fat
(c) chocolate gives me insomnia, and here it is 11:43 pm.

Anyway, it's damn delicious. Case closed.

Tonight (at least until the crottin) was actually somewhat healthful. At Claire's apartment, I had delicious take-out Lebanese food and a bottle of rosé on her beautiful terrace, with its incredible view over courtyards and rooftops, on the most beautiful evening yet. Plus I got to play with 18-month-old Isabelle, and admire her red hair.

jour no. 8 - le printemps

2009-05-07T11:00:00.009-04:00

And by that I mean the season, not the department store.

The sun came out today, and it's perfect outside: breezy, warm, and filled with flowers. This is a city like no other for flowers — there are drifts and plots and patches and squares overflowing with flowers.

Today I walked to a friend's apartment, down the Boulevard Pereire. There used to be train or trolley tracks here, I believe, but now the middle of the boulevard is a series of gardens and other open spaces (playgrounds, a random ping-pong table, a gazebo), culminating in Place du Maréchal Juin, which is a traffic circle wrapping around, of course, a garden.

Apparently, the gardens of Boulevard Pereire have a different theme each year (a while back, it was edible decorative plants, with big clumps of swiss chard, and lots of summer squash); I'm not sure what this year's theme is ("Mad Gorgeousness"?), but it is fascinating to know that everything gets replaced every year.

jour no. 7 - place des vosges (detail)

2009-05-07T04:41:00.005-04:00

The curly-Q lamps of the Place des Vosges are irresistible to both pigeons and photographers.

The Louis XIII statue, originally erected in 1639, is another one that was destroyed by gleeful mobs in the Revolution, then restored, aptly enough, in the Restoration.

One of the thousands of fleurs-de-lys in the city. Apparently, under Napoleon, fleurs-de-lys were ripped out of buildings, tapestries, linens, etc., and replaced with the bee, and vice versa in the Restoration.

jour no. 7 - place des vosges

2009-05-07T04:14:00.010-04:00

When my friend Nicole and I were in Paris in the mid-'90s, we stayed in the Marais, very near Place des Vosges. For those of you who don't know it, Place des Vosges is kind of like Gramercy Park, only not locked up, and about 300 years older. It was built in the time of Henri IV, who instituted a whirlwind of renovations to the city as soon as he took charge. Place des Vosges epitomized his accomplishments: brick and stone construction, which replaced the now-banned timber houses, and a classical elegance inspired by the cities of Italy.

Four hundred-plus years later, the square is hopping. Young children playing in the two sandboxes, crowds of older kids just hanging around, and all sorts of people -- locals and tourists alike -- strolling, reading, jogging, and people-watching. There was even a movie shoot going on in one of the arcades surrounding the square.

In the center is a statue of Henri's son, Louis XIII -- not the most popular king in France's history, but one who, thanks to the efforts of his right-hand man, Richelieu, also had a lasting impact on Paris. Under his reign, two muddy islands on the Seine were joined and developed, resulting in the lovely, tranquil Ile Saint-Louis.

jour no. 7 - my gallery

2009-05-06T08:42:00.010-04:00

I haven't been outside yet today (it's nearly 3pm). What with my morning French lesson and the fact that I feel a slight sore throat coming on (which, by the way, you should never say to a Parisian if you are a recently arrived New Yorker during the midst of a global swine flu epidemic -- one guy I was talking to actually took three steps back, with a look of utter panic on his face, when I mentioned my scratchy throat), I'm just lazing around the apartment, eating yogurt and bread and financiers, and drinking tea with milk and honey.

So I thought I would give you, dear reader(s), a look at some of the artwork in "my" apartment. The couple who own this flat have long been in the art world, and there are quite a few major contemporary photographs here. Most are ginormous -- around four feet square -- and a couple give me the heebie jeebies (like this portrait of a man, for instance -- I feel as if Damian Woetzel is staring me down). But overall, it makes one feel quite cultured to be eating yogurt surrounded by significant art.

jour no. 7 - because france is a très petit country...

2009-05-06T08:32:00.006-04:00

....it has très petits appliances. Here is my little kitchen -- adorable, n'est-ce pas? But, you may ask, where is the stove? The refrigerator? The dishwasher?

Voila! I love the stove/oven/dishwasher combo. One must remember not to use the oven and dishwasher at the same time. Or so I've been told -- I'm not sure what would happen. A well-rinsed roast? Broiled wineglasses?

jour no. 7 - le ballet

2009-05-06T08:21:00.008-04:00

My assignment for today's French lesson was to read an article in Le Nouvel Observateur and be ready to discuss. Of course, me being me, I picked an article about dance (in this case, Emanuel Gat and his new work for

Paris Opera Ballet). Isabelle, my instructor (who wouldn't let me take her picture today because, she said, her hair was "une grande catastrophe"), was complimentary about my grammar and so forth, but said I should try to slow down a bit.

Clearly, when it comes to ballet, I can get a little worked up -- how can you not? So I'm quite excited that I blew some serious euros yesterday on something not made out of sugar and butter: a ticket to Paris Opera Ballet's Onegin, at Palais Garnier on Tuesday, hopefully featuring Aurelie Dupont and Nicolas Le Riche. (I included a couple of euros in this photo not to illustrate how little money I have left at this point, but to give you a sense of the immensity of this ticket. It's like a license plate.)

Meanwhile, les jeunes filles at the school next door are prancing around the courtyard in their leotards. Why didn't this happen at Cos Cob School in the '70s?

jour no. 7 - le big time

2009-05-06T06:27:00.004-04:00

Sir Jim, I will endeavor to live up to this great honor.

jour no. 6 - today's Eric Kayser purchase

2009-05-05T13:37:00.004-04:00

So convenient, to have one of the top bakeries in Paris located between my apartment and my Metro stop. Today's catch was a pain aux cereales, just packed with seeds, and so crusty! Oddly enough, the loaf didn't quite make it home intact.

jour no. 6 - what 20 euros will get you these days

2009-05-05T13:31:00.004-04:00

An American woman I met this week has set herself a budget of 20 euros a day. Meanwhile, I spent that much on candy. It seems to be a theme for this trip: what tiny amount of what tempting food stuff can I buy for a whopping 20 euros? First it was the petit sac of chocolate-covered candied orange peel. Then it was the Spanish ham (direct from the leg of an acorn-fed pig) that, once wrapped up in cello and paper, seemed to weigh as much as a carte postale, and which I ate in one sitting, with a baguette. Today, I dropped a solid 20 euros at L'Etoile d'Or, a little candy shop in Pigalle with a famous (in foodie circles) proprietess, Denise Acabo, who bustles around the 20 or so square feet of her shop chattering a mile a minute. One bag of "CBS" (caramels-beurre-sel) and one high-end bar of dark chocolate mixed with ground-up pralined hazelnuts, and my wallet was that much lighter.

I do want to note that I have not eaten all these treats that I've bought. Not even I am capable of that, so my kitchen is well-stocked now with candies, financiers, chocolate cake, sablés, and orangettes.

jour no. 6 - Pigalle

2009-05-05T13:29:00.002-04:00

Not only are there piles of jazz clubs and other nightlife spots (including some rather risqué establishments), but Pigalle has one music shop after another, selling "hi-fi" equipment, trumpets and tubas, sheet music, and, of course, lots of guitars.

jour no. 6 - you can take the girl out of california...

2009-05-05T13:21:00.005-04:00

...but for lunch today I reverted to my typical earthy-crunchy self and had a rice, hijiki, and tofu bowl, plus a carrot-orange-ginger juice, at Rose Bakery, a fantastic little spot near Place Pigalle. What with my morning French lesson and my tendency to futz around in the apartment, I haven't been stepping outside till around 2, which means I'm missing out on lunch in most restaurants, which typically only serve from noon to 2 or 2:30. So I have to look for places that, like Rose Bakery, offer service continu. You don't get the best service in mid-afternoon (yesterday at Les Editeurs, the sole waiter on duty slipped around the corner for a smoke, leaving behind his four or five tables), but you can also linger indefinitely, and perhaps feel a little less decadent about having a glass or two of wine as the afternoon goes along.

jour no. 5 - okaaaaaay.......

2009-05-04T15:05:00.003-04:00

If I had a chic Left Bank boutique, this would not be my first choice for its name. Or else skip the Greek already and just call it "Lord Have Mercy."

jour no. 5 - peut-etre

2009-05-04T15:04:00.002-04:00

I feel cette voiture would really round out my Paris experience.

jour no. 5 - alimentation

2009-05-04T14:46:00.006-04:00

- Breakfast: yogurt with honey, tea with milk and honey, croissant, and two orangettes (still making those last).

- Lunch: a delicious club sandwich at Les Editeurs in St German de Pres (Nicole, note the lovely pain de mie), with frites and a glass of rosé. (The Parisiens are really into decorating every plate with inexplicable smears and sprinkles. I could do without this practice.)

- Snack: An astonishingly good croissant aux amandes that I was going to have with tea, but which I had finished before the water even boiled. This croissant, along with these adorable mini financiers (vanilla, pistachio, and chocolate) and cupcake-sized chocolate cake (note the chic packaging) from my local branch of Eric Kayser, whose baguettes are basically reason enough to come to Paris.

jour no. 5 - les leçons commencent

2009-05-04T14:39:00.005-04:00

Today was my first day with my French tutor, Isabelle. My shining moment was when she said that there didn't seem to be any "grandes catastrophes" in my French.

I was also thrilled when she told me to buy some notebooks. There are those among you who may know that I'm a paper junkie. If it weren't for the fear of the potential heaviness of my luggage, I'd probably buy up a gross ton of gorgeous European cahiers. They're EVERYWHERE -- I went to Office Depot on Av. de la Grande Armee today to get printer paper, and voila! Stacks and stacks of lovely notebooks and pads, two of which came instantly into my possession. And I'd already earlier in the afternoon pounced on a three-pack of the large lined Moleskin notebooks that are no longer imported to the U.S., apparently. So the collection begins....

jour no. 5 - I mean, really

2009-05-04T14:35:00.004-04:00

Could this city be any more beautiful?

jour no. 4 - Jim Haynes

2009-05-04T07:43:00.003-04:00

Every Sunday, Jim Haynes -- an American expat in Montparnasse -- holds a party, open to anyone who RSVPs in time. You show up, contribute about 25 euros, have some wine and dinner, and talk to anyone you like. I went last night and met quite a few people -- Americans, Brits, and even Parisiens. I definitely need some pals for my stay here, and this was a great first step.

Jim figures that, over the years, he's had a total of 100,000 people at his parties. He lives in one of a row of artists' studios, with a great little courtyard.

jour no. 4 - Henri IV

2009-05-04T07:33:00.007-04:00

I'm reading a great history of Paris called "The Seven Ages of Paris," and it's making my trip so much more enjoyable. I love coming across something like the Tour de Jean Sans Peur (the Tower of John the Fearless), and knowing who he was. The author clearly gets a kick out of Henri IV, so there's quite a bit about him, including his mania for fixing up Paris. Among his many projects, he managed to get the Pont Neuf finished, and there's a statue of him on the bridge (it's a newish version,

created during the Restoration; the original was destroyed in the Revolution). As he was known as the Vert Galant, he looks appropriately gallant on his horse.

According to my book, "It was said that each king had his statue among those he most loved; Henri IV in the midst of the people on the Pont Neuf; Louis XIII among the tumultuous favorites of the Place Royale; while Louis XIV resided with the tax collectors in the Place des Victoires."

jour no. 4 - jardins du luxembourg

2009-05-04T07:28:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was grey and chilly, but still the city was packed. I wanted to go the Musee du Moyen Age to see the tapestries, but there was a long line, so I'll try again today. I spent an hour or so in the Luxembourg gardens, just watching. The flowers are in full bloom.

jour no. 3 - tempting

2009-05-02T12:48:00.002-04:00

These were the tiniest shellfish I've ever seen for sale -- each just the size of a thumbnail. Maybe next time....

jour no. 3 - alimentation

2009-05-02T12:37:00.008-04:00

Today was a big food day. I had lunch at Chez Omar, a North African restaurant with delicious couscous. The waiter was astonished that I drank an entire liter of San Pellegrino -- still dehydrated from traveling, I suppose.

I went to G. Detou, a food shop that reminded me a bit of Sahadi's in Brooklyn, and bought honey, vanilla beans, and tea. Somehow, it seemed a good idea to go into a fantastically chic chocolate shop and spend 20 EUROS on a tiny bag of orangettes (chocolate-covered candied orange peel). I'm rationing them.

Then, after walking around the 1st for a while, I went back to my neighborhood and went to "my" bakery, Eric Kayser, for a baguette, and "my" fromagerie, Aleosse, for butter.

A vendor was selling honey, so I bought more (oranger, with a thick, spreadable consistency) along with some pollen. (Also bought a hair dryer at Monoprix). Lugged it all home, and had a delicious snack of baguette, butter, and honey.

jour no. 3 - Eglise St-Eustache

2009-05-02T12:34:00.003-04:00

A lovely, quiet, somber church by Les Halles.

jour no. 2

2009-05-02T12:21:00.005-04:00

OK, so day 2 is a day late... Yesterday was very jet-laggy, and I haven't hit a comfort level yet with Paris, French, Parisiens, so the day was a bit exhausting. It was May Day, and so everything was closed, and it was hard to figure out what to do. I missed the parades or rallies or whatever it is that happens on May Day, but I did have a nice lunch (including my first escargots!), complete with a carafe of Lyonnais vin blanc.

I walked through Place Vendome, then went to the Opera to try to buy tickets, but the box office was closed. It's as beautiful as ever, of course.

jour no. 1

2009-04-30T10:40:00.009-04:00

Well, I've only been here six hours, and I've already (a) spent a fortune; and (b) had many delicious things to eat. So in other words, things are proceeding as planned.

I only slept a few hours on the plane (I got caught up in "Australia," which always seemed as if it were about to end, but just kept on going), but it was so much nicer to arrive in daylight, rather than the crack of dawn. It's beautiful here - sunny and breezy and dry, about 65 degrees.

I found my little apartment without too much trouble (an easy Air France bus ride, and then a five-minute walk). It's perfect, of course: in a very old building, but renovated within the past few years. One side of the apartment looks out over a playground for an elementary school, and it seems that in Paris, recess lasts pretty much all day (they're still at it, at nearly 5pm), and all the kids do is stand around and shriek. Hopefully they go home at some point.

The neighborhood is a mix of quiet, posh residential blocks, and busy boulevards with lots of shops, and lots of traffic. There are so many SmartCars here, and of course lots of Renaults, Citroens, and scooters.

Here's what I've eaten so far: a plate of salads (lentil, red cabbage, cous cous) with smoked salmon, pickled herring, smoked trout, and a salmon mousse, served with a kind of savory pancake, and followed by plum crumb tart. This was at a perfect little bakery that just has a few tables out front for lunch or snack, on a street with a string of excellent food shops.

Here's what I've bought to eat later: baguette (natch), radishes, cheese (Comte and a goat crottin), Muscadet, butter cookies, orange juice, yogurt, vanilla tea from Mariage Freres, and milk. It all fits nicely in my petite cuisine.

Here's what else I need: honey, confiture, cornichons, saucissons, sel de mer, butter, mineral water, fruit.

Plus somewhere to have dinner, so that I don't get hungry.