My Villa Savoye Adventure

On Tuesday aftneroon I fought a battle, against math, and lost. I was very discouraged and jumped at the opportunity to join Stella and her friend on an outing. I didn't even care/know where they were going. Apparently, neither did Stella.

We met up with Toni at the Charles De Gualle metro stop to catch the RER (commuter train). Apparently we were going to Poissy ( a bit outside Paris) to see one of the only French national monuments added to the conservation while the artist was still alive. Was it a sculpture? I asked. I learned that it was a house.

Toni, a fabulous Canadian from Toronto living in Paris and also teaching English, was an art history major and learned about la Villa Savoye in a specialty architecture class. After a metro, RER, and bus ride we arrived at the site of the Villa. We emerged from a brief stint in the woods and there it was:

Although I am not a huge modern art/architecture enthusiast, this was still pretty cool. It was built in the early 1930's and broke traditional architecture standards. It's rightfully called "les Heures Claires" (box in the air). It was occupied by the Germans and then the Allies during war and suffered extensive damage. In 1958, Poissy bought the property before giving it back to the state in 1962. It was then restored from 1963-1997. It's especially famous because it was listed as a historic monument during the lifetime of the designer, Charles-Edouard Jeanneret.

It's design instigated five new points of architecture : stilts, roof gardens, an open-plan, free-floating facade and horizontal windows.

I was pretty impressed with Toni's knowledge of the architect and this building's innovative architectural techniques. The house was Jeanneret's weekend home and pretty insane. I would never want to live in a house like this, but walking through it was very striking. The clean, stark lines were very impressive and were made to be photographed. I really liked the utilization of bright colors randomly on some of the walls, such as azure blue, peach and red. The bathroom was a work of art as well.

After our tour we lounged on the original furniture, basking in the sun in the brightly window lit living room. For someone who does not know much about architecture, or modern art, I was quite taken with the space. It was a great cultural adventure, and something I would have never known about  had it not been for Toni. Not to mention it was a gorgeous fall day, which I could not help but capture. 

Coffee anjapper

I've been food exploring. Or more like food exploring from a distance. I am on Toussaint break (All Saint's Day) and have been spending the bulk of my days studying, mostly math, for the GRE. After my brain has turned to mush and I can no longer think, I take a walk.

This past Sunday I had the craving for some baguette. I usually don't, so I decided to go with it. I wandered around the 10th in search of an open boulangerie (It was Sunday, around 7 pm. Dead zone) when I found myself surrounded by Indian restaurants, shops, and people. I had no idea that the Indian part of town was 5 minutes away from where I had been staying. Thrilled, I walked up and down the 2-3 streets that comprise the quarter, reading menus, peaking in at diners, and seeing which restaurants were the most popular. After finding an open boulangerie, I headed home...but I had a craving for Indian food.

I adore Indian food, but it has to be done right. I told Stella about the area and suggested we look around on Monday, maybe grab dinner. So we walked, stopped, studied a menu. Walked, stopped, studied another, and so on. We narrowed it down to three. We were lingering over an authentic looking place, seeing if we could do the prices and trying to asses if it was worth it. We decided to give it a shot. And in we walked to coffee anjapper

It was an intimate, local place with a large group of Indian men chatting and laughing in the center. The dim lighting and spiced air was extremely welcoming, as were the prices. We decided to split a garlic naan; Stella got lamb curry, and I chose Tandoori chicken and vegetable curry. The Tandoori chicken was 5 euro, so I figured it would be a nice, small dose of protein. Our curries also came with sides of rice, which I donated to Stella...not a huge rice fan, unless it's brown.

The Tandoori arrived, and it was huge. I could not believe it. It was an entire chicken leg and thigh, crisped orange and perfect. It was very tender and came with a side of yogurt sauce, though I wish the sauce had a bit more mint and yogurt flavor, it was still good.

Then came the curries and naan, also well portioned. The curries were served in authentic gold tinged copper clad serving bowls. Stella said her lamb curry was fantastic and perfectly spiced, I thought my vegetable curry could have used a bit more spice, but it was light, warm and hearty. We ended up having to split the chicken due to wrong assessment "of a nice appetizer." The naan was also great; crispy along the edges and slightly doughy in the middle--just the way I like it. 

Veggie (left) and lamb curries 

Tandoori, curies and rice

After dinner we sat and talked in the tiny restaurant for an hour or so while it drizzled outside. A perfect Monday evening. Although it was not the best Indian food I had ever had, the portions and prices were great and the quality still exciting. The only problem? Whether to go back to coffee anjapper on my next Indian outing, or try a new one!

Decisions, decisions.

"Chocolate Wasted"

Just to preface this story:

Ariana and I thought it was a great idea not to eat anything before going to the chocolate festival so we could utilize all the space in our stomachs. 

Saturday, 12:30

I am out on a run, preparing for one of the most exciting events in my young life: Salon du Chocolat. I had to get my metabolism running, my stomach grumbling and my mind sharp in order to fully appreciate the 13 euro ticket to this chocolate festival.

We had heard rumors: 

"I ate so much chocolate I thought I was going to puke."

"I never want to look at chocolate again."

"I went last year and there was a hill made of chocolate mousse."

Ammetuers, we scoffed. 

After a long commute on the metro we arrived at the convention center and got in line to enter. I soon realized, of course, that I had forgotten my ticket. After a brief interlude of stress, I realized that I had a french blackberry and could access my ticket online.  The ticket checker didn't think my brilliant idea was so brilliant. So, after some near-tearful explanations, American charm and big smiles, I convinced him to let me in.

I had never seen anything like it in my whole life. Chocolate booth after chocolate booth after chocolate booth of displays, tastings, specialties, etc. We immediately got started. 

We ping-ponged from booth to booth, cramming samples int our mouths and marveling at the rich milks, intense darks, and creamy nougats. A few times I forgot to ask what it was I was tasting, ended up hating it, and spit it out in the nearest trashcan...trials and tribulations of a chocolate taster. 

GU, this amazing dessert company sold in the supermarkets here, had a booth that was overflowing with attendees trying to get entire actual chocolate souflees. We pushed, elbowed and squeezed our way to the front just to find out that there were no more. Crestfallen, we waited, while people shoved behind us, for some type of sample. Luckily, we got spoonfuls of chocolate lava cake, which I carried high above my head like a football as I pushed through the crowd to fresh air--victorious. The sample was amazing. After an hour we thought we had hit them all, and were starting to feel pretty sick. We took a breather next to the chocolate couture:

It wasn't until Ari peaked around the display that we realized the festival stretched onwards; there was an entire half of the center left to be explored. 

We hit one station where one of the employees gave us sample, after sample, after sample. We asked questions, feigned intense interest, each bought something. He even gave us two entire pieces and cut up a truffle for me. Lucky strike #2. 

After about another 30 minutes Ari said, " I need substance. I need meat or something, I can't eat anymore chocolate."

We headed to a cafe at one end of the center. All I wanted was something plain, I asked to buy a mini piece of bread. The man behind the counter looked at me, incredulously, "those aren't for sale, those are for les salades." "WTF," I thought. He looked at me for a few seconds longer and handed me a piece. "For free?" I asked. 

Lucky strike #3. 

I divided my bread in three and we preserved. 

We were dazed, had headaches, fatigued, felt like we were going to throw up. But there was still so many more booths left to taste. Ari said she didn't know if she could go on, but Stella and I did not let her  give up. We tasted chocolates even though we didn't want to--in situations like these, you have to stay tough and play like a champion. 

After I thought I might actually throw up, I saw it. "Look away Bri," Ari said. Too late. Chocolate Chip Cookies. Any of you who know me well know that my favorite dessert of all time is a fabulous, gooey, chocolate chip cookie. Check these out:

I had to have one. Ari said she would go halfsies with me. We bought it. It's still in the fridge. I cannot even look at it. But, we did try samples and they were to. die.for. So, when I regain my capacity to eat chocolate, that's the first thing I am going for. 

I have never been so overwhelmed in my life. My body actually overcame my mind in terms of eating chocolate. I would reach for a sample, eat it, and then think "whyyyy." Over and over. But it was impossible to say no. Everything was exquisite. There were chocolate concoctions I had never even heard of. 

2.5 hrs later we decided to call it quits. At this point, Ari was refusing samples. It was 4:30 and all we had eaten that day was chocolate. We had had:

dark chocolate(x100)

milk chocolate(x100)

chocolate cake

chocolate carmel

chocolate compote

chocolate jam

GU molten chocolate cake

Baileys

chocolate liquor (all Stella)

cookies

chocolate covered nuts

chocolate ice cream

chocolate shavings

chocolate with absinthe 

blue chocolate

dried fruit

wine to have while eating chocolate

hot chocolate

white chocolate

chocolate fondant

truffles

the list goes on...

"I am considering making myself throw up," Ari said. I had already been thinking that. We were chocolate wasted. I could barely eat anything the rest of the day. We had to go home and lie down, drink a lot of water, and put all of the chocolate we bought out of eye site. 

Needless to say, it was an amazing experience. I tried chocolates from all over the world, some amazing, some pretty strange. It was an entire event to honor chocolate, though I won't be honoring chocolate for a long, long time.

Check out the rest of my pics:The day I died in chocolat

The American School's French-American Halloween Party

Eloise told me that on Thursday I would be accompanying Babou (her mother-in-law) and Alexis to Hector's American School for a Halloween party. (Hector and Alexis go to a French school and an American school. Très compliqué) 

Hector was going as a ghost (un fantôme) and Alexis, as Spiderman (absolutely zero surprise there. The kid is obsessed). 

It was a crisp, chilly fall day. The perfect kind for a Halloween celebration. My ears perked up as we walked in. English, so much English. Little kids running around yelling in English, mothers speaking in English, a teacher spoke to me in English. Even "Monster Mash" was playing faintly in the background. I immediately felt at home. 

The party was an interesting mix of French and American culture: 

There was a tray of baybel cheese at the snack station. 

The "brownies" tasted like cake. Pretty sure they were just chocolate cake squares. 

They served water instead of soda. 

There were rice krispy treats.

All the cookies were crispy. 

There were no chocolate candies, such as snickers, mars bars, milky way, reeses, twix, m&m's, etc. 

There was a dad dressed of as a Yankee coach and a kid dressed up as Derek Jeter. 

All the candy was Haribo.

There were no carmel apples. 

I heard a New Jersey accent. 

"Ma jeunesse me manque," I said to Babou. (I miss my youth). She laughed at me and said I was still young. I explained that Halloween is such an important part of an American kid's childhood, it is a cultural tradition. She said that it is not like that in France. It was popular ten years ago, but faded out. People forgot about it and grew bored with the idea. Halloween was a fad. As heartbreaking as it was to hear, I had already deduced that Halloween is more an excuse to party for teenagers than a seasonal time-of-year. 

For example:

 I wanted to grab some candy corn for a gift I was making Hector and Alexis. The only place that sold candy corn? The tiny American shop called, "Thanksgiving," located in the 4th arrondissement. A regular bag of candy corn cost 3.50 euro, so almost $6.00. Crazy. When I went to get the second half of my gift, at a Parisian confiserie, the woman picked up my bag of candy corn. "What is this?" She asked in French. "I have never seen this before." I explained that it is an American candy, for Halloween. She looked perplexed. 

As I looked around at the elementary school Halloween party I could not help but think of home, of CVS and its glorious rows of decorations and chocolate; of college and pumpkin carving; of ghost and pumpkin cookies; of Starbucks' advertisements for the seasonal hot drinks; of an American fall. Being at this little Halloween party made my week. It was a small piece of American greatness encased in a dark auditorium with mediocre candy, but the feeling was still there. 

The party

Alexis playing a game

I did see one small carton of milk duds, which I totally pocketed. No shame there. A french kid  would not have given them the appreciation they deserved. 

ALL I WANT (PLEASE, MOM!?)

"Mexican"

The constant quest: legitimate, real, spicy, juicy Mexican food. In Paris. Impossible? We thought not.

We heard of a place called Rice and Beans through a friend.

"HOW WAS IT?" I asked earnestly, when he told me about it.

"Pretty good," he said. He was a Californian, so I took this as a good sign. Ari and I immediately picked  a date to try it out. We read the menu online; Stella yelped it, good reviews. Things were looking up.

We arrived exactly when it opened--7:30. Only in Paris do restaurants open at 7:30 for dinner. The tiny hole in the wall was covered in over -the-top, hispanic jesus paraphernalia, flashing Christmas lights and Day of the Dead decorations. American oldies rock filled the little communal eating room. Yes, we thought, winner.

We ordered chips and guac to start--they didn't have margaritas (that should have been the first sign). Stella ordered a carnitas taco and a beef burrito. Ari and I split the chips and guac and "le super" burrito poulet--rice, beans (obviously), chicken, veggies, guacamole, lettuce, tomato, cheese.

Chips and Guac--sad. I had to ask for salt to pour all over the chips and into the guac. I actually dipped my chip in salt. Stella said her taco was good, a little oily but much better than her burrito...now lets get started on the burrito.

It looked like a real Mexican burrito. Warm, flour tortilla packed with delicious goodness. Might redeem the guac failure.

First bite...and there it was. Absolutely no flavor. Actually, it was sweet. We could not discern why everything had this sweet aftertaste. I guessed maybe the tomatoes here. So I deftly utilized by side bowl of salt and dumped, along with the guacamole, and a whole dish of pico de gallo. The "cheese" was a small slice of cheddar...in a burrito? So, so wrong. It didn't even melt.

It was a very large let down. Nothing could bring about that spiced, fresh zest of California Mexican food. We came, we tried, and were even farther from conquering our mission. I gave up on the burrito and just started dipping my finger in the salt bowl, putting it in the pico de gallo and into my mouth.

I looked around at the packed little restaurant, sadly realizing these frenchies had no idea that what they were eating was not Mexican food. This was a "Mexican" restaurant. They were eating "Mexican" tacos and "Mexican" beans, but it wasn't even close to Mexican anything. They probably will never know that. That little nugget of knowledge made me feel much better about being an American in Paris. Now, when some Parisians scoff at me; my Americanness, my accent, or whatever, I can think to myself--you have no idea what real Mexican food tastes like, and therefore, I win.

Grade:
A: for effort
D: for execution
35%: Chance we may go back on some cold Winter's evening to try a platter, in dire hopes it will be better than the god forsaken burrito.
0%: Chance Ari will go back.

French Phrase of the day: Tu veux dire--"you mean..."

Chateau Versailles: The land of of gold everything, intense wallpaper, and portraits of pompous french men

"We have to see Versailles," Uncle Tom responded when I told him the commute there was over an hour. It was 9:30 a.m. and he had to be back to the hotel to check out by 12:30. It was his and Rachel's last day in Paris.

"I don't know if we can do it," I said. 

twenty minutes later we were in a cab on our way to Versailles...I didn't know you could take cabs to Versailles. 

The ride was 30 minutes, perfect timing. My mouth dropped a bit as we pulled up. It was enormous. Yes, I had learned about Versailles in every french class. I had watched youtube footage, seen photos of the galerie des glaces, heard about all of the gold and ornate architecture.

Nothing could compare to seeing it in person.

( Even though I lived in Paris before for six months, I did not make it to Versailles. Nor did I make it to the Mona Lisa, however I feel that excursion will be a bit less climatic than Versailles). 

We were very overwhelmed by the history of the space; stone coffins with beautiful sculptures of those who rested within lined the corridors. Dating back to 1400's, 1500's, 1600's, etc. Everything was marble and gold. Again, it was difficult to comprehend how old this Chateau was, and what kind of life was lead in such a palace. We marveled at the disparity between the rich and the poor at that time, how angry a peasant must have been when he saw the Chateau from a distance (same issues, different century. Womp womp.)

The royal rooms were very outrageous. Each was covered in a loud, rich wall tapestry that set the theme-royal blue with flowers, pink with white vines, blood red with light pink swirls, etc. The walls were also filled with portraits of all the families, children, Europe, wars, landscapes, etc. The best painitings were of the large french male dukes and royals wearing wigs and looking snubbly at the camera, secretly pleased with themselves for reasons we will never know...though we can guess. 

After about eight or nine rooms I was over stimulated. They all began to look the same: ridiculously wealthy. 

My favorite part, besides the gardens, was the galerie des glaces. It is an entire corridor filled with mirrors and chandeliers--breathtaking and delicate. 

Due to our time crunch, we had to do Versailles in an hour and were whizzing through rooms by the end. I was actually pleased by this, I think I would have been completely overwhelmed if we hadn't. 

We found a cab and headed back to Paris, toute de suite. However, I did peak out and notice how enchanting the actual town of Versailles looked and decided to return just to explore. 

 After our whirlwind exploration we had a final lunch and said goodbyes. I was a bit heartbroken about departing from family members and heading back to my apartment, alone. Thirty seconds later I was standing in line at a boulangerie, ordering fresh bread and an apple tarte. Not a bad way to cure the blues.