The sun was shining on Paris this past weekend, which is a rare and glorious thing this late into September. Temperatures danced into the mid-70s, and Parisians across the city took to the parks to soak in the final vestiges of summer. Michael had seen photos online of Parc des Buttes Chaumont, and suggested we pack a picnic and explore it on Saturday. The park is actually the fifth largest in Paris, and is a bit on the outskirts in the 19th arrondissement. It has some fantastic (hilly) running trails, sloping lawns just waiting for a picnic, a lake, waterfall, grotto, a few cafes, and not to be forgotten, a replica of a Roman temple on an island in the middle of the lake - the Temple de la Sibylle. Because, why not. To me, the history of Parisian parks is almost as interesting as that of its buildings. This park was built on a site that was originally outside the city limits, and was near where the city would display executed criminals after they had been hanged; it was also at times a gypsum quarry, refuse dump, a place for dicing up horse carcasses, and a sewage depository. In other words, not a very savory or sanitary place to hang out. In the mid-1800s, Napoleon III appointed Baron Haussman to modernize the city. At the same time that Haussman plowed medieval streets, turning them into the stately tree-lined boulevards they are today and required that all buildings be the same hight, faced with the same cream-colored stone, he also found time to scope out the unsavory site described above and decided it would be an excellent place to build a new recreational area for the city's growing population. The park was envisioned by Haussman to be a garden showcase, which is still true today, with over 47 species of plants and trees thriving on the grounds, many of which were originally planted when the park was created. If trees could talk. My overall impression of the park: it's a bit off the beaten path and takes a while to get there, but once you do, it is a fantastic place to hang out for a sunny afternoon with a picnic, nice bottle of wine, and a handsome man to keep good company.
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I have had my eye on eating at Bistrotters for a while now, and on Friday we finally made it. On TripAdvisor, it's rated #6 out of almost 13,000 restaurants in Paris, which is insane. You'd think all of the top restos here would be fine dining with starched white linens, a Michelin-starred chef, and a price tag to match. Bistrotters is a rather simple bistro with a lovely ambiance that serves fantastic food pared with good wine at the suggestion of the owner/waiter François. It's also a wine shop, so you can pick up bottles to go. We didn't actually take any photos at the restaurant, so I poached a few from their website directly. But we did eat the dishes above and can vouch for their deliciousness - vegetable tart and fois gras for starters (both above) and steak and sea bream for our respective main course.
If you're looking for excellent food that won't break the budget next time you are here in Paris (dinner at €30 for 2 courses, or €37 for 3 courses is unheard of for this quality of meal), I would definitely recommend this place. But they only take reservations 2 weeks in advance, and they fill up fast so you have to time it right! Bistrotters 9 Rue Decrès (14th arrondissement) www.bistrotters.com Closed Sunday and Monday French pop music is notoriously horrible. Which is why one of the biggest singers over here right now is actually Belgian. Stromae is not just big in France, he's huge across Europe, and chances are you haven't heard of him. We hadn't either, but are now a bit obsessed. The first video below for your viewing pleasure is for a song called Papaoutai which means "Daddy, where are you?". You can check out the translated lyrics here, but the video basically speaks for itself. It is absolutely beautiful. The next song and video I might like even better - it's called Tous Les Mêmes or "They are all the Same" (translated lyrics here). It's also fantastic, especially for all those dancers out there who find this kind of art electrifying (like me, obviously :) Chipotle may not be a big deal anymore the US, but it's still a relatively new phenomenon here in Paris. A few of us from work took an early lunch today to head to one of the two Chipotles in the city, and man were we all happy with the outcome! Seriously, the taste of chips and guacamole takes me right back home. That's how much i miss good Mexican food... Chipotle is a poor but lonely substitute.
Somebody has turned into quite the legit local with his very own library card! Time to get some good French reading on :)
This time last year, I was furiously studying for a long-shot interview for this incredible job in Paris that I wanted SO badly. Michael and I actually celebrated my 32nd birthday the following month with an incredible weekend getaway to the Shenandoah valley, where I got a the gift every girl dreams of: a diamond ring from the man she loves more than life. We got married a short five weeks later in November, and moved to Paris together in December. While there was no way to top the sheer excitement of my birthday last year, my 33rd was beautiful for its simplicity. I had to work on my actual birthday (Monday). My colleagues-turned-friends surprised me with a strawberry and cream cake from the fab local Japanese bakery, and sang happy birthday while waving lighters in the air in lieu of candles. It was so thoughtful and unexpected and touching. For my birthday dinner, Mom made my absolute favorite dinner from my childhood, which for years we appropriately called "French Chicken" - mostly because it was easier than pronouncing Supremes de Volaille a Blanc. It was just as good as I remembered, and served alongside a bouquet from my sweetie, cheesecake (and cupcakes!) for dessert, and lots of love. We topped off the evening by taking a bottle of rosé champagne out to the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower, just in time to watch it light up and twinkle on the hour at 9pm. It was so nice, we stayed for the 10pm magic as well. And since the evening coincided with my Mom's last evening in Paris, it was more than anything a fitting way to cap off her two week visit. Overall, I have to say that I have no regrets or doubts about where I am in life. There are days it is hard to be here, just like there are days in everyone's life that are challenging. But I am also incredibly happy and blessed to be where I am today.
In fact, Time magazine reported that people are happiest only once they reach 33. I buy it. Good things are just beginning. I have what some would consider an obsession with the South of France; and Provence in particular. This does not in any way make me unique or special. It is just a simple fact that magic dust from heaven has graced this corner of the world with the essence of life and beauty. It really is that damn awesome. So when we found out that my Mom would be here for two weeks this month, with a nice weekend leading up to my 33rd birthday, I suggested that we look into making a trip down South so that she could see the magic for herself. It also happens that one of my good colleagues at work owns a house on the outskirts of a tiny village called Vinsobres in the region, which she graciously (and seriously) offered for us to use should the occasion ever arise. It was the perfect opportunity to take a few days off of work and snag some low-budget train tickets south. After we picked up our rental car, we headed straight to the house... which turned out to be HUGE and beautiful with an absolutely stunning garden. I think we spent 90% of the time we were at the house in the garden, and when not in the garden, we were staring out the kitchen windows at an extraordinary view of the vineyards across the valley. I'm telling you, the Provençal magic is strong; no mere mortal can resist being pulled into its warm, lavendar-scented seductive embrace. On our second day, we spent the afternoon at Nyons, a town about 5 miles west of our village, which attracts a serious clutch of people for its Thursday market day. We may have done a small bit of shopping. On Friday, we hopped in the car and drove an hour and a half south along the winding country roads to one of my favorite towns in Provence - L'Isle Sur-La-Sourge - which is essentially an "island" village at the foot of the Vaucluse spring, with the river Sourgue winding throughout the town. And while the town is known as a Mecca for antiques, we were there to eat. We spent our last day in the South exploring our village, and ate lunch at the one and only restaurant open in town (out of a grand total of two). The glorious weather did not do anything to quell my want/need to own my own home one day in this magical kingdom of the South of France!
My Mom landed in Paris on Wednesday for the first time since 1977. I guess a few things have changed since then, but a whole lot is still the same. Some of our early highlights from her trip include the Paris Opera house, where we searched high and low for the Phantom to no avail, the Rodin museum gardens, lunch at the OECD, a Saturday dinner party, crepes in Montmartre, and the grand tour of Paris via the hop-on-hop-off bus.
This week, we are experiencing our first French rentrée, which is just about the most French thing you could possibly imagine. Quite literally, la rentrée means "the return." Philosophically, however, the phrase goes much deeper into the French psyche. La rentrée (scholaire) is probably first and foremost associated with the return of children to school after summer vacation. But this time of year signifies a return to normal life for the adults as well, following the long and leisurely August break. Back to Paris from the beaches and countryside, and back to work. There was a palpable difference in the atmosphere at work yesterday - yes, it was the first day my boss was in after a month away, but it was more than that. People were at their desks earlier, dressed more formally (hello black suits), and talked less in the hallway. Email traffic probably tripled from what I received on Friday, and it will continue to escalate as we work like crazy over the next few months - just in time to prepare for the Christmas holidays... Ah, France.
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AuthorBecause why not get married and move to Paris to really kick off your thirties? Archives
December 2016
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