Le Marais and Dessert dessert dessert

Yesterday was International Women's Day, and oh boy did I enjoy it. First things first, I made a delectable lunch of Camembert and Ham stuffed chicken breast (breast! not escalopes!) with a prune and onion balsamic chutney deliciousness on top. Heaven!

Happy happy joy joy! I am eating far too well for a 'starving artist'

This plate is far too huge.

So, after that delicious start today I moseyed on over to the Marais area to meet up with a friend for the FREE gelato being offered at Pozzetto. I got there super early (2 hours early...) so I wandered and wandered and came upon a dream come true. It may be common knowledge to many that the Marais is STACKED with vintage stores, but I was not aware of this fact till I walked right into one. The sign read, "1 Euro Bins" -- I bolted. 

After and hour and a half forage I came out with my grand prize -- a metallic art nouveau pullover of easter-egg colors. 

I don't think I could be more stoked on this sweater. It also smells like it's been recently washed -- win.

(You will notice that any photo I take in my apartment will probably be in my 'kitchen' where the natural light is. So, when you see my shower in the photo as well -- that gives you an idea of the size of my apartment.) So, the sweater put me back a whopping 10 Euro (pffffft) whereas my other purchases (below) came to a total of 2. 

This scarf is about the size of me, silky, and plaid & paisley. Joy!

Polyester goodness, in clear need of an iron. But... iridescent turquoise/violet shoulder-padded, waist-cinched glamour? Mm.

I seriously held back at this excursion. I had a good ten other items I considered, but then I wouldn't have any more budget left for the day. So I held back. When I realised the time I booked it back to the Metro where I was meeting Kendra. I got us lost on our way to the gelato, but we righted ourselves thanks to Kendra's keen abilities with FreeWiFi in public parks. 

The place was dead. I mean, no one else was there. It was 5 pm, all the schools had just gotten out, it was beautiful out, it was a holiday, it was FREE, it was famous gelato -- WHAT WAS GOING ON!? I immediately was worried it wasn't actually free, but when we went in the lady happily scooped us up some fresh rose gelato on two adorable tall and skinny waffle cones and sent us on our way with a friendly, "au revoir!" So confused. Not complaining. I would have loved to have documented this via photograph, but alas, I was so engrossed in the absolutely breathtaking flavor of this gelato I was unable to tear myself away from it until completion. 

Kendra and I then set off to find the art store. Now, my fault here, but we didn't find it. I had google maps'd it and taken a picture of the map on my phone to view. We were standing in front of what google maps said was the store, and there was no store. Classic google maps + Mikaela incident. We decided to skip out for the day on the art store, and instead head on down to Pigalle for dins.

My friend and mentor Melanie had suggested a dive called La Fourmi for cheap and delicious eats. We walked in, picked our own table (gasp!) and ordered a bottle of wine for less than both our little glasses had been the night before. 

I Probably should have not cut off Kendra's head in this photo... SORRY!

Now, the night before we'd seen a bunch of people with Croque Madames and we wanted them. So, comparing the size of the plate at last night's cafe with the incredibly reduced price at this one, I was expecting something roughly the size of a gluten-free grilled cheese. Non. This plate was EPIC.

The plate is like... the size of my torso. The Madame is the size of my forearm. Ah.

Kendra and I didn't talk for like half and hour. We just ate, and sighed, and occasionally mentioned god. It was a beautiful experience. Then, we both got dessert too. I got the tiramisu, and Kendra got something that translates to white cheese. We both polished ours off in like five minutes. 

There was so much delicious cocoa powder on this, I inhaled over my spoon and choked on cocoa. 

So, the bill for this meal came to less than half of the night before and we got... probably just as much food, but probably double the calories. It was amazing. Thank you, Melanie. 

Kendra wanted to go check our the Sacre Coeur and Pigalle at night time, which I know I wouldn't have had the guts to do alone so I gladly agreed. We took the tram up for free with our transit passes (so worth it, oh man) and snapped away with our cameras for a good 15-20 minutes. Kendra is a photographer. I am not. My photos all ended up blurry, save a couple good ones of the basilica. 

So gorgeous all lit up at night.

There was glass EVERYWHERE, and people were just chucking bottles like nobody's business. Party central, up here!

After that adventure, we walked around Pigalle, went into the Sexodrome store for like... an hour. We had our own set of adventures there, including a hilarious exchange with the stripper/prostitute there who, "Oh! English! ... I speaks english!" ... non. She did not. But she was very good at making you feel like you were communicating something correctly. We almost got chocolate crepes and pastries while walking around, but I know my belly was exploding, so we didn't consider those for long. After, we metro'd to our separate homes and I listened to my crazy neighbours party all night until I passed right out into a food coma. 

This morning I woke up and decided I needed to bake something. I made a Martha Stewart recipe for double chocolate brownies with a bajillion alterations. First off, I did make it gluten-free because... well... that's how I know how to bake now! Also, I used prunes all mashed up as a fat substitute (the recipe called for prune puree... no luck). Also, no cocoa powder, so I just bumped up the pure chocolate amounts (can't hurt for gluten-free stuff to have more moisture, non?). It's pretty damn good, not gonna lie. Pictures!!!

Mixing mixing mixing... I used corn starch flour, super basic. 

Oh hello, mini toaster oven. 

Please please please fit!

TA DA! 

45 minutes later... Voila!

Oooo food-blogger-esque close-up shot!

Right now I'm waiting for that brownie to cool so I can eat half the pan and go walk around for five hours! So concludes my last 24 hours! Good food, lot's of dessert, and lovely company! Au revoir till... probably tomorrow. Bisous!

Degas and Chocolate

Yesterday would probably rank as one of the most fulfilling days of my existence. I woke up at noon, had french toast (made with french bread), blew up my hair straightener (Flames! That experience did not contribute to the awesome day, but it did happen. First use!) and headed to the Musee D'orsay.
Now, some background history. In my old art class, my teacher Debra talked about this museum ALL THE TIME and since I have been anticipating the day I would be able to witness most of my favourite artists in the same place. The Louvre had it's own flavor of excitement -- there, I was thrilled to be in the presence of such history. In the D'orsay, of course the history was there too, but the D'orsay art is where my passion lies. Impressionists give me goosebumps. I can never get over how fearless the brush strokes look. Like, "Yup, this orange table cloth definitely has a splash of blue right there." One day I will have that confidence!
So I walk in to the Museum (After paying 6.50 E... I should have lied and said I was a European citizen to get in for free... I was too excited to be sneaky.) and, I've seen a bajillion pictures of this thing, but AH! In-the-flesh experiences are continuing to blow me away. Of course, no photography in this museum, but I managed to sneak this guy from the stairs by the back.

This is taken with my crappy iPhone camera because I was trying to be inconspicuous. 

So, there, you see the sculpture-filled entrance wing. But, oh man oh man, so many side wings filled with paintings. Including, to my surprise, Bouguereau's The Birth Of Venus, which is one of my all-time favourite paintings by one of my all-time favourite painters. This was another one of those round-the-corner -and-then-BAM moments where I gasped and almost fell to the ground. I did a dramatic hand-to-throat gasp motion a la soap operas. It's HUGE too, by the way. If you aren't familiar with the painting, it's this one. 

My big anticipations, besides of course the Monets... and Manets.... and Renoirs... aaaaaahhhhhh... were the Degas'. I have a huge love for this dude. Some of the first (good) pastel pieces I ever did were reproductions of his work, and pastel now stands as my favourite medium, so, thanks, dude. His sculptures were there too, which I squealed over. The entire Impressionist floor blew my mind, not to mention the rest of the museum. I spent a good three hours at the D'orsay yesterday, I'm definitely going again a few more times. I now have a serious respect and love for Toulouse Lautrec too, when before I had never really seen much. I felt very art-y and knowledgeable at some points. Thank you Debra! I sighed so many times, my shoulders lowered a good few inches. Screw yoga, I've never been so relaxed in my life!

So after that beautiful experience I headed home to check in on facebook with an old friend from dance, Kendra, who is also staying in Paris (for school). We met up around 7:30 in St. Germain and went to Cafe de Flore. Kendra had been told she had to go to this place before leaving, so we shelled out the euros for that meal!

I was pleasantly surprised how nice they were to us when I was butchering the language and had my shellfish allergy and all that. The waiter definitely thought I had a thing for him because I smile and giggle a lot and I make a lot of eye contact -- all signs of flirtation in France. Dammit. But, that made him super nice. And I got some winks out of it. 

We both kind of panicked with the french menu, but the waiter offered to help us look through it and we ended up with some good stuff. I took pictures of my food. Oh man. What a feast.

This is the place mat. I was so stoked on this Cafe I took pictures of everything.

Immediately after our food arrived (which got there really fast I might add!)

Ok, so I thought Canadian restaurant portions were bonkers. It took me a good hour to eat this salad, without breaks. That ooey gooey goodness on top is the dressing, which I swear was probably just melted butter. The lettuce you see poking out, there was not a whole lot of that. It was mostly emmental. Which, I am not complaining about! I love cheese! But I was not prepared for how much cheese there was! There was like... 2 cups of cheese, chopped up into little bitty slices. SO GOOD! But my heart is aching from this meal today. The other half was ham, eggs and tomatoes. BEST tomatoes ever, holy crap. Anyways, I was VERY happy with this salad. Also, that wine was the cheapest on the menu (That is not saying it was cheap though, of course) and it was AMAZING.

Here's a close up of the madness. It doesn't even begin to show how much cheese is in this thing. Just picture that everything you can't see, is cheese. 

The most beautiful experience of my existence. I don't know what this thing was called, I just got it off the waiter's description (of course he suggested THE most expensive dessert... who cares.)

Dessert arrived and my reaction was similar to that I had to the Bouguereau painting. This thing is bigger than my face. There is like a litre of chocolate sauce in there, it is chocolate soup. There are these dainty little creampuffs with fresh vanilla bean gelato in them. The cream-puffsNesquik version. This chocolate sauce blew my mind. It definitely had like cream and goodness in it cause... oh boy. I was in heaven. I devoured that plate in like... an eighth of the time it took me to eat my salad. I couldn't finish all the chocolate sauce, despite my best effort, as I was exploding out of my high-waisted pants. Impressive. I did use the remaining chocolate sauce to draw Kendra a diagram of my apartment with my spoon, though. Class. 

We also had Cafe Cremes, which was slightly different than the one I had in Montmartre. This one was the traditional style, I think. The coffee in one little jug and hot milk in the other. In short, amazing. Best coffee of my life. You will see that I didn't take a picture till after I had finished it. 

The coffees in Paris come with little paper wrapped sugar cubes. This time, I stashed them in my purse. Score.

The coffee was supposed to be decaf but I was up all night revving with excitement anyways. I ended up spending two days worth of budget on this dinner, but it was well worth it. And the company wasn't so bad either ;)! Today Kendra and I are going to go grab some FREE gelato for National Women's Day (Paris knows how to appreciate a woman) and then grab some art supplies. I'm so stoked! Paris gets better every day!

Tourist times

Wow. So on Thursday night Bradon came in around 11 pm and for the next two days we did crazy amounts of touristy things. Such as ...

We checked out the Trocadero Gardens (and the view of the Tower from there)

The Louvre was practically empty when we went for FREE on the Friday night (Under 26's get in for free Friday 6-9:30 pm). Which meant...

... no competition to see the Mona Lisa. 

So... I bawled my eyes out and had a minor heart attack when I saw her. Oh man... what a lifetime of anticipation can do to your emotions!

I was also pretty stoked on seeing this here painting (Gericault's The Raft of the Medusa). I only knew to recognise it because of a french para-surrealist play I wrote my final Theatre History research paper on. HAH, THE PLAY WAS RELEVANT, 'TEACHER'. Ehem. Notably, the research on this play was a huge push for me to want to come to France. Ah inspiration. (Play = En Garrrde by Rene Daumal) 

We spent a good couple hours wandering the Louvre and then we both got hungry and sore so we made out way back to the tower where we knew there would be 1) pretty sights and 2) fast food.

We happened to walk up to the tower just as the light show began = magic. Then we grabbed a crepe to share and metro'd home.


The next day we set out a plan to tackle some more monuments and stuff. We started off with the Jardin Du Luxembourg, which took us a surprisingly long time to find!

It started off a pretty gorgeous day, and the garden was also pretty quiet despite it being lunch-time on a Saturday. We grabbed Crepes near by at a little hole-in-the-wall place. The crepes were half the price of the ones by the Tower, and way better. The guy could tell we weren't french just by the way we were standing cause he was like, "You speak english, yea? Come here." I still tried to order in French, despite mispronouncing jambon in every possible way.

We made our way to the Pantheon, realising that we had walked directly in front of it on our search for the garden before (literally... in front of it) without even noticing. It's a pretty mammoth structure to miss!

Inside were crypts of people like Voltaire, Victor Hugo and select revolutionaries, and Bradon and I got in for free cause we were young and the ticket guy was super cool (and apparently likes Alberta).

... Foucault's Pendulum. In a nutshell, the pendulum swings in the same way constantly because of some kind of trigonometry genius-ness and it tells time because the earth/clock beneath (NOT the pendulum) is rotating some 15 degrees an hour. Pretty freakin' cool way to demonstrate that the earth is on an axis. 

So, mind's sufficiently blown, we made our way to the island where Notre Dame is. The bridge we ended up crossing had ribbons locks with lovers' names on them all over it. It was a super cool little surprise to stumble upon. Apparently (according to Bradon) they have bridges like this in other parts of Europe. I'm excited to see more! So cute!

So we walk up to the Notre Came Cathedral and gawk for a bit before heading around the side to a line-up we assume is to see the inside of the cathedral.

The weather was getting a bit chilly by then, and the lineup wasn't the fastest, so Bradon grabbed some hot wine. Which, by the way, is AMAZING. The lineup felt like it started moving a lot faster as soon as we had a hot beverage, so we had to down the wine so we wouldn't have to throw it out before heading in. Turns out, as we get to the front of the line, that the lineup is for the TOWERS not the cathedral! We got in for cheap because we are considered youths, and climbed the 400-something steps to the pretty incredible panoramic views up top.

My head takes up too much of this photo, but you get the idea. 

After the tour of the towers we made it into the cathedral in under five minutes and that was pretty epic too. The stained glass windows were amazing, but we weren't about to take flash photos so... no photos! Sorry! One of the cool things was there were these 'confession booths' that were almost like offices with glass walls. There were confession places for different languages with waiting rooms! Really intense, and strangely modern for inside such an old building. 

After we went on down for a really quick look at Montmartre (it was getting super chilly and drizzly by now). We basically ran around avoiding everyone cause we were afraid of dying (Even though, I guess it is quite safe. But coming from boring Calgary to a district with people yelling in an unfamiliar language and sex shops everywhere as it's getting late and dark = scary!). We (Bradon) snapped these photos despite our rush. 

Sacre Coeur! It was cloudy so the view wasn't so great, but the basilica was beautiful! We left pretty quick because there were soooo many people trying to sell stuff.

The Moulin Rouge! Serious Baz Luhrmann moment. Ah...

We giggled while walking down this street. We are children.

We then hopped into the nearest metro station and made our way back to the Arc de Triomphe (again just checking it out from afar) and hopped a bus back home. 

We dropped by the boulangerie across the street from me to grab a baguette. The first thing I say is, "Bonjour Madam!" Which would have been great, had it been daytime. She poked her head up from the counter and said, "Bonsoir Mademoiselle?" I giggled like a moron and said, "Oui! Bonsoir!" Then she said something in french and I panicked. I basically made a complete ass of myself during this exchange, making her repeat, slower, etc. for a good minute or two. Finally I asked for a baguette and then she asked me which one I would like, we grabbed it, paid, and practically booked it out. My first bite of bread in six years was pretty magical, and I didn't get sick! I can't make a habit of it, but oh man, gluten is good. 

And so concluded our crash course in touristy-ness! Within those days, we also managed to do a trip to the local Carrefour which feels like a Costco cause it's so huge and cheap. It took us forever to find it cause I was determined to just keep walking until we found it (I didn't bring the map...). We managed to walk by the botanical gardens and the major Tennis stadium/museum where the French Open takes place. Neat! (Fun fact: Earlier in that day we went to grab an air mattress and we went to a sporting goods store located in Aquaboulevard which is a massive wave pool/fitness centre a la West Edmonton Mall. So random.) So in Carrefour I finally got a pay-as-you-go cellphone (HURRAY!) with Bradon's help. It was only like 30 Euro so I hope I filled out the (french) registration card correctly. After 15 days if they don't receive the little form they cancel your phone, so it's kind of crucial. I also got a little iron (10 Euro!) and an umbrella -- both of which seem to be pretty crucial to Parisien life! Today I dropped in there again and bought a hair straightener, which is pretty crucial to my life. 

Sunday Bradon had to catch a train at the Gard du Nord so we made our way down via Metro and JUST missed his train (literally saw it pull away as we figured out the right gate). Panic ensues, and then a lady exchanges Bradon's ticket for one an hour later without charge! So nice! So we hung out around the train station for a while, basically dodging people asking for 'just a signature' (*cough* addressdonationphonenumber *cough*). Bradon caught his new train, and I headed home, alone boo. 

I did some ironing for the first time. I admit I was tentative, so the stuff that actually needed ironing still needs ironing. The t-shirt I 'practiced' on, now needs to be ironed because I creased it. Merde. 

I then met up with a friend-of-a-friend (now, just a friend) named Laurence in Montmartre. I was excited to see Montmartre in daylight, and on a Sunday ... No one would kill you on a Sunday, right? Montmartre was super charming in daylight and Laurence gave me a mini tour, showing me the cafe that Amelie worked at in the movie, and the windmills. I didn't bring my camera, but even if I had, I was enjoying my company too much to whip it out and go all 'tourist' on her. 

Laurence then took me into my first cafe! AH! I couldn't keep up with all the french going on and then Laurence and the waiter were both looking at me. I looked at Laurence. She said, "Go ahead". I looked at the waiter, he said something in french. I looked back at Laurence, she said, "Order whatever you want". I panicked because I couldn't just point at something on the absent menu and smile, so I frantically mumbled (yes, you can frantically mumble) "Un Cafe Creme, s'il vout plai" (which, for all I know, could be the wrong way to say that), nearly saying "Por Favor", which would have been AWFUL. The coffee came and it was amazing. It came with cute little paper-wrapped sugar cubes, which I didn't use (but I should have kept... dammit) because they were too cute. After the cafe stop, we walked around a little more and parted ways. 

I got super lost somehow on the way home, but it was easy to get back on track once I figured out where I was. Do not blindly get on a subway because the station happens to have the train you want! I was too excited about my cafe experience to notice before I'd gone a good 8 stops in the wrong direction. I ended up at the end of the line on another train, waiting at the deserted station awkwardly for a few minutes, before I realised the train I wanted to be on was the one I'd just gotten off of (as it headed back where it came from). Super annoying, but it's not like I had somewhere I had to be right away! I walked home from the station in the random down-pour of rain that lasted only five minutes before returning to the drizzle (how very... Calgary!). I made crepes, ate half a jar of Nutella and skyped all night with the family. Very nice! 

Today, I did laundry for the first time, which is now hanging in my window. My window was open, but today is exceptionally chilly and windy, so I had to close it and opt to hang my wash... inside. I have underwear in my kitchen. I would post a picture, but it's my underwear. I have some dignity, despite having to dodge my panties while cooking dinner tonight. 

Today, being so miserable, I am just bumming around home writing and drinking wine. It is pretty awesome. I did that little bit of shopping, but the shelves at the grocery store were eerily empty. It must be a Monday thing, I guess we will see if that stays consistent! I did manage to get a huge chunk of blue cheese for only 2 Euro. I am super super stoked on that, considering how much it would have cost in Calgary. I bought carrots and cheese... dinner will have to be inventive. 

That's all for now! Au revoir!

The metro and butter

Ok! Excitement! So we left off with me finally getting my apartment.
I have woken up at about noon both days in my new apartment. Getting out of bed is really hard because it's so cozy and jet lag is hitting me pretty hard. First thing I went down to see my Landlord, Bruno, and we  went over the contract blah blah blah. I was planning on paying my rent via online bank transfer but the fees are so outrageous at both ends that it made more sense to do it all in cash. Which, by the way, is a terrifying concept. Carrying that much cash around in an unfamiliar city (despite the safe neighborhood) is so nerve-wracking. Lucky for me there is a bank just about two blocks away. So, I walk in, chime, "Bonjour Mademoiselle" to the young lady at the desk, walk up to the machine, and it gives me a sad face when I try and withdraw cash. It's all in french, so I don't know what it's trying to say besides the sad face on the screen and the red X (I get a lot of these red X's it seems) with "Desole" -- that much I understand. So, I pace awkwardly in front of the machine, try it again for good measure, glance over at the lady at the desk -- who is staring at me -- and attempt to speak french.

"S'il vous plait, je suis Canadian, uh, uh, Je ne comprends pas! Parlez vous anglais?" I say.

"Something something something something VISA?" She says.

"OUI!" I exclaim, pulling out my Visa card.

"Something something something something something Visa something something?"

"Oui? Uh..." I have a face I make now when I don't understand what people are saying, and it's usually accompanied by awkward humming. This face happened here.

That's when the sign language kicked in. I pointed at the card and then at the machine and made a confused face. She pointed at the visa, said 25,000 french words in five seconds and pointed to the door. She repeatedly pointed at me, the card and door. I had no idea what she was saying but I said... "Oui! Merci Beaucoup!"

I was pretty sure she had just told me that my card and I were to leave, but turns out there is another machine outside the bank for withdrawals, and regardless of your card, that's where you do withdrawals!  I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with the Visa, cause there is no money to withdraw on there, so I stuck my debit card into the machine -- keeping a very calm demeanor as I was in public -- and prayed.

The screen started showing english on the screen! I was so overjoyed! I went through the necessary steps, put my amount in and -- I didn't have the funds? WHAT!? So I try again, a smaller amount. Success! It spits out the cash, charging me at least $5 for that transaction (On RBC's end, who knows what the euro-bank charged). So I stick my card back in and do a little more ... success! It's like a game! That costs $5! I try again and... denied. Turns out I still have a limit on my bank account for how much money I can use in a day. Seriously not fun when I have rent to pay. So I take my cash and receipts -- cash totaling about 3/4 or rent -- and walk back to the apartment. Luckily Bruno is super understanding and he says I can pay the next day.

So with that task done (for that day at least) I set off to get a transit pass. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing besides the info from a paragraph in a guidebook a friend gave me. The paragraph basically said, go to your local station and ask someone for one. So, I went to the closest station and walked up to the window. No one was there, but I still kind of hung around looking at all the signage to see if there was any info there. There was a sign for the Navigo pass (what I needed) detailing what I should do -- in french. As I'm trying to piece together the words I know, I hear "Bonjour Mademoiselle?" from behind me.

I freeze. How embarrassing.

"Bonjour?" the voice repeats.

I turn around and there are two very stylish french boys about my age, maybe a little older. They both look like they're at the brink of smiling, but not quite there yet. I awkwardly walk over, the metal bars of the metro gate between us. He starts saying stuff in french. I pull out my usual, "Je ne comprends pas, parlez vous anglais?"and he says, "Yes! Are you lost? Where are you from?"

And so the conversation goes, mostly in english, but I keep trying to use french because I feel bad -- which really does not speed the process along. I'm trying to explain I need a carte l'orange (which I now realize doesn't exist anymore -- replaced by the Navigo) and I'm butchering the language so bad all he hears is "carte" so he is like...

"Map? Here! Take my map!" and he gives me his own weathered metro map from his pocket.

I feign relief cause at this point I just feel so awkward I want to run away, but I say, "Merci!". I underestimate this guy's kindness 'cause he says,

"Where do you need to go? I can help you." So in an attempt to get away I study the map and, using my acting talents, look like I've discovered something, and say,

"Oh! I'm at the wrong station! Pah!" Which they nod understandingly to. Thank god. Then he says,

"Let me give you my phone number... in case you get lost!" So I accept, cause who doesn't want friends in an unfamiliar city? So I grab his number, and he asks, "What is your number?" Which is so awkward, because I don't have a phone number yet. I tell him this, which is true, but it seems like I'm trying to not give it to him! He doesn't have Facebook, so I give him my email. He said he'd email me when he got home (he didn't :( ), we exchange "au revoir" s and I practically book it out of the train station.

I find another metro station nearby with a person at the desk, learn that only the main stations along each line sell Navigo passes. So I walk around till I find one of the stations (the lady at the info booth gave me another metro map and circled the stations on it... I was tempted to tell her I already had a map from my french boy encounter earlier). I go in, it's super easy because I have a copy of my passport and my brand new address on me. Within a minute or two she's made my card (which is free because I have an address... huzzah!) and she sends me on my way. Success! For the rest of the day I walk around the neighborhood, scoping out the various Monoprix's (Clothing store version? AH!) and take note of the Fromagerie for later. I buy some groceries, and make this lovely meal ...

... which I am very proud of! It took me like... two hours to make a vegetable and rice soup but DANGIT it was good!

Anyways, that night it took me a long long long time to fall asleep because my two neighbors' doors are right beside my door so when they unlock their doors it sounds like my door is being unlocked. For a good hour I'd almost be asleep and then BAH! Panic, and then realization, and repeat. Once I did fall asleep I was good till noon the next day. 

Wednesday, I completed all my bank stuff, got my rent to my landlord, and met one of my neighbors! This neighbor is the important neighbor because we share a bathroom. My 'apartment' is something called a 'chambre de bonne', which I access via service elevator. It's a little studio room -- bed, shower, kitchenette -- and I love it. Anyways, my next door neighbor is a swedish boy about my age who has been here for three months and is leaving around the same time as me. He seems very nice and he helped me when I accidentally blew a fuse from moving appliances around. We share use and cleaning duties of the bathroom. So far he seems clean and I like him. We might hang out this weekend because he works in the week. The rest of Wednesday I rearranged my apartment so it was pretty and I cleaned the floors and appliances so I KNOW they're clean now. I then made this ...

... which was amazing. That's a turkey cutlet with fancy (not fancy) white wine sauce (buttery wine wine reduction thingy) all over it. And blue cheese. So, everything doesn't just taste like butter, but butter and cheese. Butter mmm...

Similar sleeping style last night, and today I panicked about money, skyped a friend in Austraila (holy time difference) and ate 'yogurt'. EW so gross, the 'activia yogurt' here is like... watery AND chunky... NO! I also bought a dozen little cartons so I have to eat them. Mmm probiotics... 

I discovered that the Navigo pass itself is free, but that gets you nothing but a plastic card with your picture on it. You charge the card at these machines, which I did today. I happened to be charging my card at the same time as a local man beside me. He saw I was struggling, as I was giggling, and offered to help. He also knew english and taught me step by step how to do this charging thing! He was so nice, and it was super easy! It was something like 65 Euro for a month unlimited pass, but I used it three times today so I'd say it will be worth it. 

What did I do today with my new metro pass, you ask? WELL! Let me tell you! I SAW THE EIFFEL TOWER! BAH! I took the metro up to Trocadero and I knew you could see the Tower from near by, but I didn't realize it would be so... well... big! I rounded the corner of this street and BAM! EIFFEL TOWER! I had to keep from running towards the viewing platform. Once I got there, I sat down for a second to collect myself (and take this picture).

I couldn't even wait for the people to get out of the picture, I was too excited. I then ran up to the edge of the viewing point and, seeing a bunch of other tourists doing the same, took this picture of myself.

This is my 'excited' face. I couldn't even smile, because that risked squeeling (again...). So, anyways, as I'm standing around looking excited, this french man (not boy, man) comes up to me and starts speaking french at me. I have the general confused expression, and I say my usual, "Je ne comprends pas" thing and he says something like, "Je ne parlez pas anglais", and I say, "Je ne parles pas francais! Ah!" and we both laugh and then he still keeps speaking french at a crazy rate so I just keep making him repeat himself. I somehow understand enough to answer some questions, but when he asks if I want to walk the Champs Elysees with him (twice, he asks!) I say, "Non, merci". He asks, "Pourquoi?" to which I have no answer, because I can't speak french. So I just point in the opposite direction, look at my non-existent watch and say, "I have to go! Au revoir!" He looks pissed, so I walk with purpose. It is worth noting that at one point in this conversation he asked if I was polish! Do I look polish? I don't know, but the fact he assumed I was european is kind of cool. It must have been the scarf.

I sneak away and take this picture by the river. I look less crazy.

I walk around without purpose for a while, get excited when I see this cafe ...

DO RE MI! ... but I don't go in because I haven't mustered up the courage to go into a cafe yet. I'm determined I will speak french in a cafe one day, and I won't look like a moron! I walked around for a while, took a random train to see the Arc du Triomphe, freaked out, frantically paced around aimlessly trying to figure out what to do with myself until decided to sit down and take this picture.

I didn't end up getting any closer because I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to cross that street without dying. I walked around for a good hour looking for a metro stop, taking a couple of trains that got me farther away from home. I walked around in a fancy-pants rich-people park and ended up right back around the Arc du Triomphe area. I spotted a bus stop with the same name as the bus that runs directly in front of my apartment, so I hopped on (because, you can just hop on busses with these Navigo things... awesome!). The bus ended up going by both the Arc and the Tour, which I found funny considering how much wandering I did and how little distance I covered. I ended up back home, and cooked this dinner...

I realize, this looks like prison or airplane food in this photo, but I swear it was delicious. I wish I had taken a less crap photo. There were also glazed carrots, but I ate them before I had even plated the turkey... That chunk of stuff is cheese. There will ALWAYS be cheese. And butter. 

I would like to point out that pepper is really expensive here. Or maybe it's always been expensive, but I can't find any for less than 4 euro for a little container. I can get a bottle or wine for cheaper than that... something is wrong. ... I DID get a bottle of wine for cheaper than that. 

Off topic thing: Someone asked me for directions yesterday. They were french, and I didn't know how to tell them anything so I just waved my arms and pointed a lot. I DID know where the metro station they were looking for was, I just didn't know how to say "two blocks that way". Oh well! My interpretive dance skills are growing.

Ok, this is the longest blog entry in existence, so I'm going to stop now. But! Everyone is now up to date, and Bradon is visiting starting tonight in like half an hour HURRAY!

First few days!

Ah! What an adventure!
I've been in Paris just over two days now, and so far... adventures abound! From the top...

Security in Calgary was silly, having to unpack everything and take off my shoes -- it took a long long long time to get both back where they belonged! The nine hour flight itself was nothing special, but before I had a few minor heart attacks. First is when they called me to the desk with concerned expressions -- turns out they were just worried I hadn't checked any luggage (which I hadn't), so it was all good. Second was when I went to put my backpack in the carry-on stow-away and the compartment for my row was full. I literally opened and closed it like three times and made exasperated noises and kind of nudged the other bags in confusion. This lady was trying to tell me not to (not sure what language) and her and her friends (all like 40-50 years old) were laughing at me! Not cool! Finally the man in my row (Greek? 60-ish) signalled for me to give him my bag and he put it away for me in another compartment. Signal small waterworks. I thanked him twenty thousand times and then shoved my little bag under the seat in front of me and buckled up right away -- still wearing scarf, jacket, sweater, 2 shirts with jeans and boots. So warm. But I was so nervous about having to find somewhere to store them that I kept them on. The entire flight. I was a sweaty mess.
Lucky for me, I'd snagged the only row on the plane with an empty centre seat, so me and the friendly old man had plenty of space. Then a younger gentlemen decided he would rather sit between a friendly old man and a cute chick than sit beside a baby, so he switched seats there. I was too nervous to say no. We chatted for a good half hour about where we were going (Him: Microchip designer for a phone company going to this major electronics expo for cell phone companies in Barcelona = big deal) and then when food came we basically didn't talk for the whole flight. He was really negative about Europeans, educating the naive little me with his cynicism and wisdom. He fell asleep easily whereas I just kind of tossed and turned uncomfortably (finally haven taken my boots off mmm) the whole flight.

When I had to get up to go the bathroom in the night, I had to get my boots back on my now swollen feet. This was quite the task, and the German man beside me found it hilarious to the point of waking up his female companion and pointing at me to share the sight. I tried to smile and signal, "Oh jeez, what do you do, hey?" and that made them laugh HARDER! Why am I so funny? I actually ended up really liking these guys later.
So... right before the seat belt sign was going to go back on, I busied myself with putting my boots on again (I took them on and off a good four times in this flight -- If I left them on, my feet fell asleep, and I needed to put them back on to go to the bathroom). German guy's eyes shone with excitement as I prepped the laces for 'slipping' the boots back on. They went on super easy this time, and I swear he looked disappointed.
As we were descending I got very excited at the views of London. Noticing my excitement, the German guy pointed at a river and exclaimed, "Look! The Bow River!", and then him and his companion burst into laughter, me along with them.
Landing, the friendly old man beside me grabbed my bag for me before I could even think to grab it myself.

Getting off the plane I bumped into two high school boys I'd briefly met in the waiting terminal back in Calgary. We both had a similar waiting time for our connecting flight in London so we stuck together. One of them had just completed his school exchange in Calgary, and the other (Calgarian) was now tagging along to a boarding school in Copenhagen. They bickered the entire two or so hours about high-school-boy-things. They punctuated bickering with bragging about doing 'bad' things behind their teachers' backs. I did learn that at this boarding school seniors have special rights! Like, they have their own sidewalks, and if you're not in grade 12 and you walk on them, they have the right to beat you up. No joke! Also, only seniors are allowed to wear white pants, and everyone else can't wait to wear white pants. You get made fun of for having non-white pants. Which, to me, is so funny. I couldn't help thinking, "Who washes these white pants!?"

I had a mild panic when the gate for my flight didn't get announced till 20 minutes before the plane was set to leave. It all worked out though, and I bid adieu to my new friends, leaving my facebook link with them. At the to-Paris gate I met a girl from Calgary as well who happened to be on the same flight. Turned out we were also in the same row, but on opposite ends taking up both window seats. After the 45 minute flight from London to Paris, we both got off, excited and terrified, we hung out for a little bit while she got her bags, and then parted ways.

I got lost in the airport on my way to the train station, but only momentarily. I got to the train station, purchased my tickets, went to go through the turnstiles and then -- GASP -- the tickets were rejected. All three that I had bought! I went into a serious panic, tried a good ten times holding the tickets in different ways, etc. Finally I went to information, where there was a sign that said something along the same lines as what the machine had said when it rejected me with an arrow pointing to the ticket office with a lineup.

The ticket office was surrounded by glass. It took me a while to figure out which pane of glass was the sliding door. Picture a scared blond girl with a giant backpack walking up to a window and waiting with a desperate look in her eyes and you will see what everyone else in that train station saw. Finally got up to the ticket window and the guy tells me that the tickets I bought don't work till I'm actually IN Paris, and I am currently OUTSIDE of Paris so I need to take a DIFFERENT train into Paris and then I can use my tickets there. I then purchase a 9E ticket (NINE EUROS BAH!) for the RER which goes to the city. Luckily, Bertrand (the guy I stayed with that night, my sort-of stepsister's sort-of cousin) had given me very specific instructions for the trains so I was good to go from here... SO I THOUGHT!

A crappy picture of the CORRECT metro ticket. See how disheveled it looks? That's from my sweaty, nervous hands folding and re-folding it.

Long story short, I got lost three times and I was trying really hard to act like I knew exactly where I was going so I would not get mugged. It was getting dark! I was afraid! The RER lines have multiple little offshoots so when I thought I was taking line A, turns out I was taking line A4 and I wanted to be on A2. Once I realised this fact, I had already gotten past the point where they are stop at the same stations. So I got off the train, switched directions, went one stop, got off the train, tracked down the right line, got on and breathed a sigh of relief. All that switching took like half an hour. I would just like to point out, if I had done the same screw-up in Calgary, it would have been 3 hours, not 30 mins. Praise the metro!
I finally got to the right station. Bertrand had advised me to borrow someone's cell phone to call him but I was so afraid of everyone at this point that I opted to turn my cellphone from home back on, take the crazy roaming charges, and called him long distance. He was going to be there right away so I followed the crowd out of the train station, took one wrong turn despite this, righted my self, went to exit and there were more turnstiles. I put my ticket through and -- big red X, denied. Confused, I repeated my obviously-not-going-to-work previous attempts of putting the ticket through every which way. I still don't quite know what was going on, I think maybe the ticket timed out? I was on the metro for a good two hours. A girl in front of me had jumped the turnstile so I figured it couldn't be that hard. I looked around to see if the coast was clear, I heard some people coming but couldn't see them so I figured I had time. I did not account for the extra 40 pounds I was carrying. I jumped up and pitched back, catching myself just in time to see the people behind me stop and watch while I clambered over, jumped down, and kept up that nonchalant "I know exactly where I'm going!" walk as I limped (my feet were very swollen at this point) up to the metro exit.
Bertrand picked me up and we got back to his house where I showered (Thank. God. All those layers were sweated through at this point.) and proceeded to play a UFC game on his PlayStation with his friends coaching me in frenglish. Fun times. I couldn't eat anything at Bertrand's cause of my allergies but I slept super well that night, and my feet were not as mangled the next morning.
Bertrand had to get up super early to get his friend to a train station, and so he organised another one of his friends to pick me up and drop me at the train station around noon. The metro was not nearly as menacing in the light of day. I didn't get to have my apartment until 7 pm, and I ended up getting to me arrondissment around 2 pm. I was too afraid to bring all my luggage into a cafe, and I don't trust my french to charm anyone into thinking of me as anything but a tourist at this point. Also, I looked essentially homeless. Despite showering, I was unable to locate my hairbrush without unpacking. I also didn't want to unpack more clothes so I wore a small selection of the clothes from the previous day.
My feet were not as swollen, but they were blistering now and walking on blistered feet for 5 hours having not eaten since the plane ride (gluten free plane food = not bad!) and being under-watered = slow and awful.
I ended up buying some rice cakes and a water from a corner store by my soon-to-be place and I sat down for a good ten minutes at every single bench I encountered. At around 4:30 I located a Monoprix and decided to put up with stares and walked around in there for a while to explore. I bought some cheese (om nom nom) and apples (The most expensive apples in Paris, I'm sure) and planned to make a dinner out of them later.

See? But I was desperate. For four apples in a little carton, 2.50E. Apparently they're organic. I have a flyer to another store with a kg of the same apples for 0.99E... putain.

At around 5:30 I sat on the bench immediately outside my future apartment building and decided that at 6:00 I would check my door code to make sure it worked. 6:00 rolled around, I checked, it worked. 6:15 it started to get chilly with the sun starting to go down so I decided I could wait in the entryway. It was so awkward, but my landlord ended up coming early at 6:30 so I got my apartment early with her!
She showed me the place, and got me set up with everything within 20 minutes and I was ready to go. Unpacking was SO much more fun than packing, but I didn't want to do it 50 times because all I wanted to do was eat my cheese and get in my bed. I had some dinner, met my other landlord briefly (Other = Husband and wife landlords. They gave me a fancy chocolate! I love them!) and went to bed.
I want to write more tonight but no one wants to read a novel on a blog, so I'll update on what today was like another day. Adventures!

This is my view from my window. That white orb in the sky is not the moon, but -- from what I can tell -- a hot air balloon of some kind which is still there now. 

4 Days

BLAAAH! So soon! OK. So what else have I done in prep. It really is absurd how prepared I am considering I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. Every time I complete a task, I somehow end up finding an additional one to replace it so I never really end up making my list shorter! My motivation for chore-like activities is pretty much non-existent. Unless it involves packing, I'm pretty sure I've packed my bags about 20 times. Once I'm there I can't go back and change my mind, so I have to do all the mind-changing now... yes? In the last week and a bit I've been spending as much time as possible with people I like.

I went to a bunch of local theatre shows. A musical by Forte theatre, Jeremy De Bergerac, which one of my old classmates starred in. Super 8, put on by Lunchbox, that two very dear friends wrote together. And Trojan Women at the U of C, directed and acted in by a mass of talented friends. All of them were so good! I've been missing out by working full-time, I wish I'd seen more theatre. Well, guess I know what I'll be doing in Paris!

My to-do list that I've (mostly) completed is as follows (everyone likes lists, right?)
1. Bank stuff (i.e International transfers, making sure all my pins are 4 digits, and not 5 [disaster averted!], making sure my debit account was chequing, not savings, lowering my limit of the credit card I'm leaving at home, let everyone bank-related know that I'm leaving for 6 months, get some cash money.)
2. Secure place to stay (Huzzah!)
3. Get International Youth Travel Card, HI Hostel Membership, French Medic Alert.
4. Purchase Eurail Passes -> 8-trips-in-2-months Benelux/France Pass, Global Unlimited Pass for 3 months (Ow, my bank account hurts.)
5. Pack at least 50 times
6. Break in Doc Martens (Ow, my whole being hurts.)
7. Make 1000 copies of all my might-be-important documents and hide in all sort of fun places in my luggage.
8. Make digital copies of said documents and email to self, store on portable hard-drive (leaving at home), store in flash drive (taking with) and store in encrypted computer file! (I feel like a spy!)
9. Figure out what to do about my phone plan...

OK... This one was just tackled and I need like... a bubble bath now. I cried on the phone to Rogers.  No no. I sobbed on the phone. Positive: I might have gotten a good deal out of it (I don't even know anymore). Negative: I probably now have "Crazy Chick" written on my file, and a recording of my hiccoughing and word-vomiting (To which she gave me the reference number should I want to revisit that experience), eternally stored in their records. Just wait, I'm gonna become some famous actress and then this will come back to haunt me.
I basically talked to the two nicest people first so I was in this lovely mood just chattin' it up. Then I got transferred someone who was probably an OK person, but did not sugar-coat. Management. So I was like, "But but but I'm so NICE!?" and she was like, "NO". Eventually 'negotiated' (i.e. She offered options, I cried back until there was something I liked ... O God, I'm an infant!) the plan down to something less awful, but still not my ideal situation! I'm still spending money on something I'm not using. Which makes me angry. That's like... 15 macaroons a month I could be eating... BUT NO! Rogers chick had other plans. It's personal.
So after we figured it all out, and it really wasn't as much of a disaster as I anticipated. I'm paying something like $22.50 a month so that I don't have to cancel my contract. WHICH IS DUMB, but less than $60.00, so it's an improvement from the disaster that was my previous plan.
The funniest thing about all this, is I had a serious game plan. Like I had all these documents from their website pulled up to quote and be like, "Hey hey, in this clause blah blah blah", but I couldn't stop CRYING long enough to use them! So... good thing my career choice involves tapping into emotions and not negotiating documents.

What's left to do? Well... pack again. At least 3 more times, just for shits and giggles. Figure out Power of Attorney stuff, bank and otherwise. Figure out personal liability insurance. Figure out the process of getting an Orange Card (monthly metro pass). Figure out how to get from the airport to where I'm staying the first night. Actually, figure out the address of where I am staying the first night. Pack again. Cry some more -- In my defence, I am emotionally vulnerable right now! I'm afraid! Ehem. Also, go for drinks, dinners, etc. Watch Midnight in Paris and the Sex and the City series finale episodes. Boom.

12 Days

Holy Crap! Less than two weeks until I go!


I now officially have an apartment in Paris. I sent my deposit and agency fees today through cyberspace. I sincerely hope this agency is legit and I didn't just throw away a wad of cash. I have a good feeling though, it just seems right. After all the struggle to find a place, and useless anxiety this place just kind of happened. So what's it like? Well, from the brief description and three photos I was sent it looks pretty basic. It's 9m2, the "ceiling' is really just one wall slanted to meet the other a la attic/window alcove. It's contents are as follows: Bed (single), mini fridge, microwave, toaster oven, hot plate, shower, and fancy parquet wood floor. See anything missing? Yea. A toilet. But have no fear! It's just down the hall shared by the rest of the floor! It's like a ... bed and breakfast, yea? Whatever, I am so stoked I don't even care. Plus, a friend pointed out, in an emergency I could always just go in the shower. Paris is going to be SO glamorous!


I've officially chosen my wardrobe for Paris -- BIG decision! -- and it's all packed so that when I start wearing the same clothes for six months they seem exciting and new for at least the first bit. It's evolved a little bit, I did some shopping. Here goes:

What I Think I'm Probably Bringing:

• 3 Racerbacks
• 3 T-Shirts
• 3 Long Sleeve Shirts
• Black Jersey Dress
• Black Cardigan
• Huge Circle Scarf
• Full Length Denim Wunder Unders
• Denim 'Boyfriend' Capris
• Navy Cotton Chino-esque Dress Pants
• Grey Linen High-waisted Harem-y Capris (SO. RAD.)
• Skirt
• Black Opaque Tights
• Black Cable Knit Thigh High Socks
• Plaid Blouse
• 'Cashmere' Crew Neck Pullover
• 'Leather' Bomber Jacket

I'm pretty sure that's it... There might be more. I kept adding and subtracting and re-adding items over the last couple weeks and since I refuse to unpack it I am not 100% sure what all is in there... SURPRISE! I know I have enough though. I have a good 10 or 12 pairs of socks and a handful or two of underwear thrown into this little compression sac my mom got me. Fun fact: Socks compress a surprising amount once you take them out of the nice organised rolls. 

I also bought a selection of Eurail passes. I was very unsure about Eurail stuff cause everyone was telling me the cheap tickets I could get last minute as a youth and stuff for planes and trains. But considering how much I already am leaving up to chance for this trip, I figured I'd secure that, no matter what, I can always hop on a train and be warm. So for the first bit I got a 8-trips-in-2-months kind of pass for Benelux (Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg) and France. Fingers crossed I don't accidentally use all that at once cause I don't understand the system. The other Eurail pass I got is pretty straight forward -- 3 months unlimited anywhere in the Schengen zone. SO STOKED. It's so freakin' expensive though, it took a lot of persuasion to actually spend such a huge chunk of my savings. Together they were just over 1800, which is just bonkers to me. To be fair, the cheapest train tickets I could guarantee via online investigation were around 100 bucks, so if I take 18 trains I'll have done pretty well for myself. ... I'm there for 6 months... I'm pretty sure I'll take at LEAST 18 trains. This week I'm having a little bit of separation anxiety from my hard-earned cash. So much is gone all at once! I have to keep reminding myself that I saved it up for this very purpose. Now the numbers of my account balance are going down instead of up and it's depressing! 

I also ended up deciding on a backpack and a laptop bag as my luggage. Both I can take on board as carry on. The backpack is something like 32 L and the laptop bag is pretty standard. Fun side note, the laptop bag is this HIDEOUS reptilian embossed pleather, and I'm starting to really dig it. 

I still have some consolidation of knickknacks and unnecessaries to do, but I'm feeling pretty good about all this! Besides being in complete denial that I'm leaving soon. Saying goodbye to everyone is not even starting to sink in, either. Bah. Oh look! Panic setting in!