Crepes y pasteles---PARIS

The first of many Paris pictures: (I took 521 in two days):

http://northwestern.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2099039&l=eee3d&id=2409539
http://northwestern.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2099042&l=4f06a&id=2409539

17 Octubre 2007, Miercoles

I woke up today with the giddiest feeling and only one thought in my mind…. “Me voy a Paris!” After the usual, I met Cristina for our marathon interchange session, and today we hung out with some of her friends, which was quite interesting. After finding out I was American, they began to test their English on me…which consisted of what all 17 year-old know…curse words. One boy pointed at another and said, “He is very faggot…” to which I had a lengthy talk about how you can’t say that, it’s not PC, and you would basically get beat up or sued in the US for saying something like that. Then we moved on to the obligatory other phrases such as “F you” (I was chuckling in my head the entire time because the pronunciation was so funny)

I packed my bags and had a leisurely café con leche in the afternoon, all the while nursing my giddiness, and then I headed to cooking class. It was in Las Carmelitas, a school where one of my teachers, Macarena, is the principal. About twenty of us walked into the kitchen and sat down as the teacher, Isabelita, a cute and chubby older Spanish abuela with a lunch lady hat began to show us how to make gazpacho. Everyone was a little wary, as we expected each person to be able to help and prepare their own food, but this is Europe, and not everything is as glitzy and organized as America…by the time we realized class had started, she was halfway through the gazpacho…which included pureeing bread, tomatoes, onions, olive oil, and vinegar all together. We also made tortilla Española, which is immensely popular here. It´s very much like an omelet, eaten cold, with potatoes, sometimes onions and peppers también. Natalia and I had to leave class early to catch our flight.

We got to the airport around 2020 and our flight was an hour later. We flew Vueling, which is about the coolest airline ever. You might be wondering about the name, dear reader, and here is the explanation… The airline is a hip, young low cost airline, and the name is Spanglish…yes, a mix of “flying” and “vuelo” (flight). The signs are all half English, half Spanish, the music is also half…and the in flight magazine is “In Style”…in Spanish. It’s fabulous. We were enjoying our flight immensely (watching Will and Grace and then The Pink Panther cartoon in Spanish) when we noticed the couple sitting next to us beginning what was very short of copulation…to which we just sighed and said “Oh Europe…”

I overheard the copulating couple say something to our flight attendant and then reply with a hearty “Spasibo!” (French accent included) so I affirmed my sneaking suspicion that our lovely flight attendant Maria, was in fact, Russian. We talked to her for a bit and then asked her how much a drink costs…she smiled and said. “Dlya vas….” (For you…) oh yeah, free wine on our flight to Paris…what could be better?

We landed in Paris in hopes that the big strike would not start until the next morning. It had begun. A word about the strike: So like I mentioned, public transportation was close to nill. The Parisian metro, which is known to be one of the best in the world, known for its extensive use and punctuality, was not working, neither were the buses…I suppose you don’t realize how important something is before it’s gone…Why was there a strike, you may ask? Well, in the past, being a conductor on the metro basically sucked because you had to deal with shoveling coal and whatnot, so the government let you retire four years before everyone else in the country. Now, everything is automated and the government told the conductors they had to work the same number of years as everyone else (40) before retirement, to which the lovely Parisians replied… “au revoir” and went on strike…the day we flew in. And apparently, as my French friends informed me, going on strike is fairly common in France, almost like the American equivalent to the prevalence of lawsuits, “They went on strike…” the French say as they roll their eyes.

As we walked through the airport, we expected to go through customs or something, expecting our passports to get stamped or checked before coming into France..ummmm, guess not ‘cuz we just walked straight through the airport and to the taxis. We got into our taxi, and realized very quickly that our cab driver knew little or no English. He was talking on his cell phone, and I was telling Natalia the story about the Spanish kids cursing at me, to which I tried imitating their accents upon saying “F you…” All of a sudden, the cab driver was like, “Excusez moi???” and we were laughing, so I said “ooh, Thank you!” As the money counter clicked higher and higher prices, and our minds worked double time to multiply by 1.43, I began to have a headache, but at the same time, enjoyed immensely the feeling of being in Paris.

We checked into our hotel, Hotel Camelia on Rue de Darcet, a very cute little kitschy hotel, and basically crashed on our wonderful red bed. There was literally no room in the bathroom, just enough space to decide whether you need to use the toilet, step up to the shower, or brush your teeth. Once again, oh Europe. We set up our alarms for quite early, and went to sleep, as I counted little Eifel Towers in my sleep…

18 Octubre 2007, Jueves PARIS

Crepe or Pastry? That was the main question in my mind, one for the ages you know, as I got up this morning only to realize that yes, it wasn’t a dream, I was in fact, in Paris. Natalia and I got up, and unaccustomed to this whole being cold thing, got suited up to brave the cold (50-60 degree) weather outside. I put on my tennis shoes praying that they wouldn’t kill my feet and would conquer the strike conditions.We strolled out of our hotel and began our search for the perfect breakfast….once again, crepe or pastry?

We settled on a small pastry shop on Rue Amsterdam I think, and I chose a chocolate croissant while Natalia went all out and got this beautiful strawberry work of art. It was fabulous. Afterwards, we began our long day of walking. First stop on our menu del dia de Paris: The Eifel Tower.

By the time we reached the Eifel Tower, I’m pretty sure I had taken at least 100 pictures because we passed such beautiful buildings and plazas, and stopped to take at least 20 pictures on the bridge passing the Seine near the famed tower. Everything was just breathtakingly beautiful, in a Paris kind of way. The buildings were distinctly French, in the way that Andalusian buildings are distinctly Andaluz….not something you can describe really, just understand and appreciate the beauty. We reached the Eifel Tower and took another 50 pictures or so. I really don’t want to talk about the Eifel Tower too much because it’s beautiful, you know that, I know that, Pierre knows that, and his mom as well, so I will focus on some aspects that enchanted me.

Paris in the fall….the day was beautiful. Not too cold, but kind of a crisp, clean feel in the air. The leaves on the trees were all different colors, and the children visiting the Eifel Tower on field trips were busy jumping in piles of leaves while the park workers looked on warily, constructing more piles as their previous work was being destroyed. Throngs of Asian tourists congregated by the tower, taking obligatory pictures. One Chinese (I think?) man approached me and handed me his camera. I was like, oh ok, you want me to take a picture of you and your friend (in a crazy mix of Spanglish which I’m sure he did not speak). After more confused finger pointing, it turned out that he actually wanted a picture with me and the Eifel Tower (?). Maybe he thought I was a French girl? I don’t know, but somewhere in the Eastern hemisphere, there is a photo floating around of me, him, and the tower, and I can only wonder what he will tell his friends when they sit down to watch vacation pictures.

Natalia and I, being Sevillanas, only spoke Spanish, and were therefore approached by Spanish-speaking tourists when a picture needed to be taken. This was one of my overall favorite parts of traveling this time, the change of identity. It is, once again, so easy to pick our Spaniards by their use of “vale” every other word. (I promise you im not making it up). Anywho, we took about a million pictures and decided to continue onwards to the next tourist destination: the Champs Elysees and Arc de Triomphe.

More wandering and picture taking ensued, and then we decided to sit down and have a crepe….Crepe’s (the best I think) are sold by street vendors on corners, and nutella is the most popular crepe filler it seems. They cost about 3 euro (about $4.40) but like the Mastercard commercial says, tasting one is priceless. They are also hand-held and eaten on the go, so Natalia and I shared one, sitting on a bench at the start of the Champs E. I almost died, I swear to you, this thing was amazing. I wonder what exactly about that crepe it was that made it so much better than any other I’ve eaten, or suspect will ever eat. I guess I’ll never know.

We continued up the Champs E trying not to go into too many stores, and watched the mix of tourists and elegant French walk quickly down the busy street. Finally, we reached the Arc de Triomphe, and wandered around until we finally found the underpass to actually see the darn thing. We wanted to climb up, but as the sign said “exceptionally, the monument will be closed today.” (Strike….strike one) Sad but still determined, we took many pictures and decided to come back another time.

Right around this time, Natalia called her friend who was studying in Paris to come spend the day with us. I, on the other hand, was trying to develop a plan for how we would get to Notre Dame (strike….strike two) and had a brilliant idea. There are these city bikes that people ride around on, and there are stops where you can return the bikes in many locations around the city. (the same exists in Sevilla) I was pestering Natalia greatly to rent the bikes, while images of flying by the Seine on bike were in my mind, but alas, her friend told us that you have to have a European bank card to rent them. Oh well.

We decided to at least TRY the metro, as apparently there was a skeleton system working, and were extremely lucky to catch a crowded ride down to Notre Dame. The only nice thing about the strike was that when we used the metro, it was free…. We walked around by Notre Dame while Natalia’s friend told us some of the history, and then went in. It was beautiful, blah blah, nothing really compared to Sevilla’s cathedral (I know I sound ridiculously snobby right now, just humor me because I’m trying to be a Sevillana). It seems like a huge tourist trap, as there are other churches much more beautiful than Notre Dame, and really, it is only popular (not to mention clean and visited) because of Victor Hugo’s book, The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Around this time, we realized we were seriously hungry and began the obligatory “Natalia and Stella search for food.” The prices for food, and just about everything really, are ridiculous! R-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s. We finally sat down at a café and ordered a glass of wine. As I began my usual “what doesn’t have pork” search, I realized that answer was, “not much.” Natalia’s friend mentioned there was a vegetarian option, so I settled for that, not knowing what it was…well, let me tell you what it was…a cheese sandwich…literally, half a baguette cut in half, with cheese. As I lamented not bringing a French dictionary, I resigned myself to the idea of “when in France, eat baguettes” and convinced myself that nothing could be more French that bread, wine, and cheese…sigh….After lunch, we headed to the Louvre and were sad to see that, once again, the strike had screwed things over for us (strike…strike three!!) and it was closed. We still enjoyed the beauty of the Plaza de Concorde and gardens of the Tuileries, not to mention an interesting modern art exhibition.

We walked the streets of Paris, enjoying the crisp autumn weather, and began to search for a suitable pastry shop. I love how in Paris, everything is all divided up. One buys cheese in a fromagerie, bread in a boulangerie, wine in a…wine shop…(take that Wal-Mart!). We saw some pretty breathtaking pastries… but decided to meet some of Natalia’s friend’s friends (?) for a bit. We wanted to do a Baton Rouge (a cruise by barge down the Seine) but by this time the sun had started to set, so we decided to be very touristy and buy some pastries and wine to have by the Eifel Tower by night.

One of my obligatory Paris stops had to be Bir Hakeim. To understand why, you need to understand my love for food, especially Italian pizza. When my family was in Paris when I was about 13 I think, we went to this fabulous Italian pizza place by Bir Hakeim, a metro stop, every night. Afterwards, my father and I would dream about that pizza with smiles on our faces, and lovely memories of pizza in Paris. (oh so French I know). I had to find that place….

Natalia and I bought our pastries after much searching for the…perfect….pastry, and headed towards Bir Hakeim. We were lucky that there was only one Italian restaurant among the many Chinese or French in the neighborhood, so I happily walked in and had my long awaited for Bir Hakeim pizza. It was fabulous…

Afterwards, we walked to the Eifel Tower and realized…it was really cold!!! We were discussing our plans when all of a sudden….the tower started sparkling!!! We were flipping out for the whole ten minutes on the hour because it was sooooo beautiful. Sooooooo beautiful!!

We decided to walk down the Champs Elysees to have a coffee and crepe perhaps. After sitting down at a restaurant and seeing the prices, (think almost $10 for a cup of coffee) we bolted! The metro was not working, so we tried to catch a cab….which was IMPOSSIBLE. (strike….strike four!) There were absolutely NO FREE CABS. So, we decided to walk, and walk we did. Thank goodness Natalia is fabulous with maps and directions because by the point, I was wiped out, cold, and dreaming of sleep. About halfway, we stopped to have a coffee in a café, thinking it would be a lot cheaper since we had left the pricey Champs Elysees. WELL, let me tell you, our lousy little crap crepe cost 6 euro ($9) and the coffees just as much, so our little coffee break cost more than dinner…interesting…

We FINALLY got back to our hotel, and showered. Then attacked our beautiful pastries….the only good thing about the strike was that I didn’t feel guilty not even a little bit to be eating pastries as I think I had walked at least 10 miles all over Paris…