There is almost nothing better than a big bowl of ramen to warm the soul on a cold winter afternoon. I am a huge fan of ramen. And thanks to Yelp (as always), I found a restaurant called Kotteri Ramen Naritake here in Paris, in an area that I understand is often referred to as "little Japan." I tried to time my arrival at Naritake later in their lunch service in hopes of avoiding the huge crowds. Obviously that didn't work. But the 45 minute wait was totally worth it. I was rewarded with excellent gyoza and some of the best ramen I have ever tasted, including in Japan. This is definitely a place I would go back to and recommend to others; but make sure if you go to time it so that you arrive about 30-45 minutes before you are actually hungry. Otherwise, it's just not pretty. Naritake
31, rue des Petits Champs (1st Arrondissement) Mon–Sat, noon–2:30 p.m. and 7–10 p.m.
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So this just cruised by my building: I cannot believe this group of people exist. In 2013. And are rollerblading outside of my apartment building at 12:15am in a massive pack with a police escort bringing up the rear. Please don't feel the need to watch this whole video - a good minute should do the trick :)
I am also now reconsidering my Christmas request for peanut butter, and am going to upgrade that to a new set of rollerblades please. I'm sure Amazon.com has them in stock; brought straight to Paris via wormhole from the 1990s. I'm sorry babe... I'm totally doing this next year. And you are more than invited to join (or have a good laugh from the window). Maybe when it's a little warmer, though. This week has been filled with long days of meetings (here I am with my fancy headphones listening to the interpretation booth when the meeting jumps to French)... ...and a work Christmas party at the Château, complete with champagne, new colleagues, gilded walls, and tasty food. As posh and fancy as this scene might look, the lights went down after dinner, the DJ turned up his best Michael Jackson and Prince hits, and these people danced their faces off, like they had just turned 18 and were out to their first discotheque.
So things are not always easy living abroad. My excitement to be in Paris really does counterbalance a lot of the difficult aspects of living in a new city/culture/country. But I wanted to write a little bit about the not-so-pretty side of being a new expat ... in this city, and at this time in my life.
The reality is that I am truly a stranger here, who is still trying to figure out how to navigate even the simplest of tasks. Here are some of the things that I have found challenging over the past three weeks. Some are obvious, some are situational, and some are of my own making:
I know this is a huge list of trivial complaints, but it's also an honest account of the hard parts of my life right now. Don't be fooled into believing that life in Paris is all pastries and champagne. That would just be #Tafty. Note to dear readers: please kindly refrain from Google translating "bang trim" into French, or Yelping a local hair salon and leaving it in the comments section below. I am fully capable of doing these things as well; this post is simply an unedited compendium of frustrations I have encountered within my first three weeks living in a new country. Thanks! - The Management French frozen food is everything that you would hope it would be (but could have never imagined). Over the past several weeks, I have passed a shop every day to and from the metro that I couldn't quite figure out. It was always super busy, especially in the evening - but every time I slowed down to take a look inside, all I could see were people leaning over what looked like huge freezers. Was this a store full of ice cream bars? It turns out, I have been witnessing the daily magic of Picard. I learned about Picard while out for a drink last Friday night with a friend of a friend, who was imparting some invaluable basics about life in Paris. She asked me if I had heard of this store called "Picard," which only sells frozen food. But not your grandmother's microwave dinner - this stuff is supposed to actually be tasty. Why, yes!! (lightbulb went off)... I do know that store! And now I can actually vouch for it's tastiness myself. I purchased a few items over the weekend, which included an asparagus tart, some fish, and a veggie stir fry. While I was there, I also eye-balled some pizza, Indian food, burgers, all types of veggies, and lots of poultry and meat entrees from which to choose. And, of course, you can also find several varieties of frozen fois gras and a host of dessert options (which look amazing). So it turns out that despite the popular myth, French people do not spend every evening at a lavish three-hour gourmet meal prepared in a Michelin-starred restaurant. I can now rest comfortably in the knowledge that, although I love to cook and eat out, I don't always have to. Thanks, Picard!
I have been spending a lot of time this past weekend walking around different neighborhoods in Paris, just soaking it all in. Lucky for me, the weather has been spectacular. A note to my Southern Californians reading this: that does not mean warm; it means no rain and blue skies. :) When Michael gets here in January, we won't have much time to explore different areas before we will have to decide on an apartment and make the daunting decision of which Parisian neighborhood (or arrondissement) to live in - which from what I understand, is like choosing a family. Paris is essentially a city of villages, so this is a serious decision. Take a look... I work at the edge of the 16th right next to the green blob - which I thought was a forrest before I got here, and it turns out to be a big park that is lovely during the day, and a place for ladies of the night after dark. The 16th itself is beautiful, but a bit stuffy in the evenings and weekends (apart from the park, of course) - so we probably won't end up there. Currently, I am in temporary housing across the Seine in the 15th. So far... it's just ok. But since we are making this big leap across the ocean, we want to live somewhere that is more than "meh." In my journey around the city over the past few weeks, I've discovered that I really like the 6th & 7th arrondissements. I've also discovered that anytime I ask a colleague where they live, or where they recommend someone to live, they have a very strong opinion that almost always contradicts the last person I asked. This must be what it feels like to tell people your intended child's name before it's born - some love it, some hate it, and I'm going to disappoint a lot of folks with whatever we choose (we're choosing a family, remember?). In the end, it's all just a personal preference. And while pondering future neighborhoods, I had a great time hitting another Christmas market and soaking in the general Parisian fabulousness. One more week to go before getting back on a plane and heading to California for Christmas! I am loving it here, but I am REALLY excited for California to see everyone, and finally see that husband of mine again!!
For any of you who have ever lived or worked in Europe, you'll know that they don't really do peanut butter here. I am not entirely sure why, since they have no problem eating gallons of Nutella (see below - all Nutella, all the time), and peanut butter is delicious. According to an NPR article written last year lamenting the woes of the US peanut farmer who can't seem to sell much product here, "the average European still eats less than one tablespoon of U.S. peanut butter in an entire year." I can eat a tablespoon of PB as a snack in between meals.
Peanut butter is actually still considered an exotic food here. Can you imagine PB&J exotic?!? In fact, the one jar of peanut butter I have come across was a child-sized jar of Jiffy that cost 5€ for maybe 10 ounces. And after my time spent in 2013 (mostly) eating Paleo, I had grown rather attached to peanut butter's younger, hipper cousin, almond butter. I have yet to find a jar of almond butter here, or almond milk, or Lara bars, or a host of other Whole Foods-friendly-wallet-busting items. I guess I know what I'm asking for at Christmas this year. * This post is dedicated to Casey, who likely already knew this, and is still wiling to come visit ;) We are now definitely cruising into the holiday season, which means the parties are starting to pick up at work. I went to my first work Christmas party today (yes, they still call it a Christmas party here), and had a great time meeting new colleagues and getting out of the office for a bit.
And because we're in France, we drank champagne and wine over lunch before heading back to the office. I love this country. But would you believe what I found when we arrived at dessert? A box of Nuts & Chews from See's Candies! Apparently, one of the guys just flew back from the US, and a colleague had asked him specifically to get a box of See's. I remember when you could only get these on the West Coast of the US, and here they are on a dessert table in Paris. If you look hard, you can find them hidden behind the fruit and cheese... which were also quite delicious :) This post can most definitely be classified as reporting on the mundane, but I've recently discovered something incredible. French people use graph paper at work instead of lined paper. Like, not just the scientists who want to make sure they draw a symmetric parabola. Everyone uses it. On my first day of work I was asked to attend a meeting at 10am right out of the gate (which was conducted entirely in French, btw, yikes!). But instead of a crisp pad of legal paper or a lined notebook, I'm handed graphing paper that is totally disguised as something I would actually want to take notes on: I honestly didn't know what to make of it. This just will not work for me. It makes my head hurt to think about how I am supposed to fit words into the tiny squares. Do I take two blocks for each line of text and write big? Cave to societal pressure and stick to a "one block - one line" policy? I'm pretty sure I'm doing it all wrong, and because it's me, I'm not even consistent in my incorrect note-taking behavior.
My solution: ask my incredibly kind office mate to order properly lined paper without vertical interruption, and then I horde it like the good American girl that I am who absolutely cannot bear the thought of writing on top of squares all day. This is my first real weekend in Paris, so I couldn't think of a better way to spend this Saturday than strapping my only pair of comfortable shoes and taking a walk around the new neighborhood. The Eiffel Tower is about a twenty minute walk, and the Arc de Triomphe another twenty. So this happened... In addition to taking in the classic sights of the city, one of my main goals for the weekend was to visit a few Christmas markets. I first came across the good old European Christmas market in Edinburgh when I was a student at St. Andrews over ten years ago, and fell in love. Basically, you get bundled up in your best winter coat, hat, and scarf, and walk around an alpine-inspired "village" and shop for local Christmas goodies. What's not to love? And because I'm basically all-in when it comes to Christmas markets, I went straight to the biggest one in Paris at la Défense, which has over 350 vendors. I didn't do a whole lot of shopping of the traditional kind, but I did encounter a fantastic new way to eat a ham sandwich - called a "Sandwich Raclette." Of course taken with a hot cup of mulled wine. It turns out that Raclette is a type of Swiss cheese that is often served by melting the surface with a hot iron and scraping it off - in this case, directly onto my sandwich and spreading around. It's a bit like sandwich fondue, and it was fantastic. I rounded out my Christmas market day with a quick trip to the Saint-Germain-des-Prés Christmas market, which is dwarfed in size to the one at la Défense, but is completely absolved of any sins of size by simply being in St-Germain. And there was also this: Apparently, Père Noël got an iPhone this year as an early Christmas gift and can't be bothered to mingle with the kiddos.
I LOVE where I work. One week in, and I feel like I have found my people. I get in to work by 9am, take an hour lunch, and leave at 6pm. And every morning, the entire organization takes a coffee break about 10am. Seriously... everyone. So far, I have gotten coffee with colleagues every day I have worked here. Sure, I'm new and am being "welcomed" to the team, but I have the feeling that this crew will take any excuse to go get a coffee and shoot the breeze for half an hour every morning. It's heaven. HOWEVER -- and I say this with only a slight annoyance, as I can hardly fault a people who do coffee so religiously -- I really miss my big-ass American coffee. I never even drank the huge Texas-sized coffees. But every morning, I would get a 12-ounce coffee and savor it over the first hour or so at work. It was my thing, and it did me right. Here, I've discovered that my best bet is "un café allongé", which is basically an espresso topped off with some water. I love it, but I always want more. I submit my evidence below. I finally broke down and got a tall (aka, small) caramel macchiato from the local Starbucks today at the cool price of 4.85€ - yes, that is $6.60 for a SMALL coffee. WHAT!?! And on the right, is the largest coffee option available at work, which is generally only half-filled with coffee. But, it's only .70€ (around $1).
So while I may miss my big old American drip coffee, I guess I'll be sticking with my petit café for now. Starting any new job can be stressful.
I have now finished my second day at the OECD, and am working to balance a ridiculously unreserved excitement that comes from working and living in Paris, with an extreme disorientation from doing everything different. The language, commute, colleagues, neighborhood, food, money... paper size - all new and different. Basically, there are very few things that feel "normal" to me right now, and the ones that do are mostly in the few hours I spend in my apartment when I can more or less control my environment. And so far, I have not fared well with jet lag, averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night and mostly getting up around 3am. I'd take traveling to Asia any day over the jet lag from traveling to Europe from the East coast. No joke. But most of all, I miss Michael. And I feel terrible that he has to go through the stress of finishing our move and selling furniture alone, all while sick. I know he'd rather be here and done with it all - and I'd rather him be here experiencing all of the new Frenchness with me. Although, let's be honest, it's still going to feel new in January :) Today is the day that I began my new job in Paris. I wanted this job so bad when I was interviewing that I could hardly allow myself to believe it was even a possibility. But, all the hard work and waiting for the right job to come around paid off - and voilà! - here I am. My mode of transportation to work is conveniently called... the Métro. Looks and smells different than Metro in DC, but it's the same idea. Lots of people, small cars. The biggest difference so far is that they let you get off the train while its still moving :) Most of my day was spent meeting new people and sorting through paperwork that will allow me to: (1) keep the job; and (2) remain in France for longer than 90 days. In a twist that I admit I didn't see coming, my first and only meeting of the day was conducted entirely in French. Good times. My value add was to be in "listening mode" (aka, cobble together about 25-30% of the words I understood into the context of the conversation). #longwaytogo And now for a view of the beautiful Château de la Muette, which is the main building of the complex where I work. My office is in the building across the street in a structure that is much less glorious or fabulous or Parisian, so that's why I'm posting this beauty here instead. I mean, it's a chateau. I think I shall claim it for all little girls who dream of growing up one day and becoming a princess. Or ruling the world. Or just being a kick-ass working lady who doesn't let the bastards get her down. Or in my case, just saying to hell with it and marrying prince charming ;)
This lovely place, and the magic that happens inside, is perhaps 20 feet from my front door. Jet lag properly kicked in last night, so I've been up since about 4am. I fully plan to take a nap later today (I know, I shouldn't, but whatever). Since I was up anyway, I decided to take a little walk around while the rest of the city slept. I purchased my first croissant as a resident of Paris at the fine establishment noted above, and walked to the Pont de Grenelle to watch the sunrise. There was nobody on the street, and the sky was really too overcast to see anything but clouds - and yet it was a wonderful moment of peace and solitude. I took these pictures standing in the same place on the bridge: The replica of the Statue of Liberty is actually one of two smaller versions here in Paris. She faces west towards her larger cousin who lives in New York. Turning towards the other side of the bridge is of course the Eiffel Tower, the most famous monument in Paris. My croissant and I were alone with these two this morning, and it was a beautiful thing.
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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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