(82-85): Days on the 10

Sit tight, folks, you're in for a long one.

(82) is Monday, 29 March 2010

Mom, Dad, and I all made it back from Mont-St-Michel and St-Malo. Yes, we were all there, but no, we didn't meet meet up because, no, they didn't have a working cell phone.

Yes. Anyway.

This week saw me commuting a great deal, almost exclusively on the Metro Line 10 ("Aha, the title is explained!" I hear you cry). Mom and Dad were staying near Odeon, so like the week before, I would hop on the 10, go join them for dinner, and then go home for the night.

Monday's version involved me going to 'Reagir Sur la France d'Aujourd'hui', my "writing-intensive"* class at Reid Hall. I stuck around Reid Hall to make a few more reservations for Italy/Greece with Liz and Kirill. We're so close to finishing this one, and it's going to be epic. Also, I wound up the accountant for this endeavor, which is no small task when you have to do a round-robin of credit cards to make sure all four seats get booked together.

At any rate, I met up with Mom and Dad for dinner at Allard on Rue St-Andre-des-Arts. It's this little bistro with a rep for great food and American customers. They put us in the corner (unlike baby**), so we had a slightly tougher time than usual conversing. The restaurant also crammed in a lot of tables, so they had to move two or three other tables each time somebody had to get in or out. But ask yourself: would I really recommend the place in spite of these things if the food wasn't to die for? I had foie gras (of which I've become a great fan), a gorgeous cut of salmon that was perfectly prepared, and two beautiful profiteroles. This was all on a prix-fixe menu of something like 33 euros.

(83) is-- wait for it-- Tuesday, 30 March 2010.

Today, I didn't have class until 3:30 (on the count of 3-- 1, 2, 3: "Andy doesn't go to school.") today, so I met my folks for lunch at Fauchon, a rather haute-cuisine eatery at the Madeleine plaza and metro station. They had a variety of tasty-looking things on sale. I had a smoked salmon sandwich, which was great, but I held off on dessert in favor of getting macaroons (that's macarons-- with one 'o'-- in French) at Laduree a few doors down from lunch. These macaroons...

They sent Pierre Herme home to cry.***

We then walked a bit, stumbling onto a street with many well-to-do designer clothing stores. Not a bad walk, although I can't remember the street. We then came to Angelina at 224 Rue de Rivoli (east on the same street as the Louvre, away from Chatelet). This place is an old-fashioned tea room which also makes wonderful-looking macaroons and other pastries. The real draw, though, is the hot chocolate. As my father had explained it, it's "like being enveloped in a warm blanket of chocolate." It was just him being, well, my father.

Then I tried the stuff. With a dollop of whipped cream and parents who get too full to finish theirs... beautiful. That's the only word... that and "blanket-y".

So, I dashed off to class, my Reid Hall cinema one with the very detail-oriented, pause-every-frame film professor. Average class. Fortunately, it went by a little faster than 24 frames-per-hour.

Dinner this evening was at a great little place (in French, that's bistrot) called Le Bistro de Chez d'Henri on Rue de Princesse, which is tucked away near the Mabillon and Saint-Sulpice Metro stations. This place had the best scalloped potatoes I've ever had, with a prelude of tasty foie gras and accompaniment of a sizable, excellently prepared steak.

I then hopped on the 10 to go home.

How you doin', need to take a break? Why don't you take a break? I'll wait.

...

(84) is Wednesday, 31 March, 2010

After Hitchcock class at Paris VII, I met up with my friend Meredith from Vassar. Meredith, who is studying Art History this semester in Rome, came up for a few days of vacation with two friends from her program. I showed them around a little, including a visit to St-Chappelle, a gorgeous chapel tucked in with the Palais de Justice (Paris is big into tucking buildings, it seems). That other place is essentially the French Supreme Court, a few blocks from Notre Dame.

If you go to Saint Chappelle, make sure it's a very sunny day or, if it's alternating (as it was on Wednesday), stay in there until you get some sun. The walls composed almost entirely of absolutely spellbinding stained glass will reward your eyes most handsomely for the wait. You should also hope that they aren't renovating, because that big Saint-Chappelle themed tarpjust doesn't catch the sun as well. Although it's a good thing they're taking care of the place, because it does deserve it. You can also tell which windows haven't been restored yet, because those are much less clean and luminous. In any case, it was well worth the 5-euro student admission (I think it's 8 for adults).

We then walked in the sunnier weather a ways. They wanted coffee. "No," I told them:

"You want hot chocolate."

So, of course, at the height of my culinary decadence, I went back to Angelina for a second day in a row. The upswing of this one, though, was that I got to sample two pastries that Meredith's friends couldn't finish. One was a larger-than-bite-sized raspberry macaroon (I usually eat smaller ones). They're big on raspberries over here, but I'm generally not. I make exception for two things: one is raspberry-flavored vodka (especially mixed into a cup of lemonade) and the other is the raspberries in this macaroon, which were hands-down the freshest and sweetest I've ever had.

The other dessert was a pastry that looked like a ball of light-colored chocolate mousse that had been squeezed out of a Play-Doh mold (one of the ones that gives you a long, textured string of the stuff). It was relatively firm, though, and hid a core of creme. I can't remember what it was called, but I feel confident that the Play-doh description will lead you right to it.

After our little tea-time, I met up with Mom and Dad at their hotel to get dinner for their last night in Paris. We took the metro to Le Temps au Temps on 13 Rue Paul Bert. I hesitated to put that one in bold because I honestly didn't like it nearly as much as the other places. I'm given to understand that the owner/chef has left the establishment in the last 6-12 months. Every part of the experience just barely missed somehow. There wasn't much on the menu that really captured my imagination, the wine we had was fine except for a weird aftertaste, the asparagus soup I had was good but not great... the steak I got was actually very good-- that's what saved this meal from mediocrity-- although they never asked how I wanted it prepared. The dessert, which is now escaping my memory, was good, but it came with a scoop of ice cream that was already melting by the time it arrived.

Oh, well. Can't win 'em all.

So, I went back to the hotel with Mom and Dad, we said our goodbyes, and I took the 10 back home.

(85) is Thursday, 1 Octember 2010. Ha. April Fool's.

I went to Music in Cinema today, which was normal. When I was almost home, I got a message from Izzy, a friend of mine also in the VWPP, who wanted me to join her and some of our other pals at a bar and then a club that night. I was already making plans to hang out with Allix Wright and Christina Allen, two friends from Sidwell, so I skipped out on the bar.

Christina was visiting from her JYA music program in Florence (now there are two people I can visit when I get to Italy!), so we all caught up. We went to Le Volcan on Rue de Mouffetard, since Allix and I hadn't been there in almost three months (I hadn't been to Mouffetard in a while, myself). We knew, however, that dinner would be quite good, down to that same delicious Charlotte au Chocolat that I ordered last time.

I then met up with Izzy and the others at Mix Club directly behind the Tour Montparnasse at the Montparnasse-Bienvenue metro station on line 6. This place was pricey-- 15 euro to get in and 2 more for the obligatory coat check. But they gave you a free beer (which I gave to my friend Max for a few euros) and... you remember in the beginning of The Matrix Revolutions (I know it's the worst one, but go with me for a minute) where Morpheus, Trinity, and (I think) Niobe go talk to the Merovingian in that ridiculously awesome-looking club?

This was kinda' like that.

It was worth the price of admission to come out to that balcony and meet the visual of the crazy strobe and colored lights over hundreds of ERASUMUS students dancing a story below (some on elevated blocks and other platforms). I stayed and danced with my pals a while before taking the Noctilien home.

No duets on the bus this time, though.

There, you made it! Well done!

-Andy

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Footnotes

* "Reacting to France Today," whose exercises are all based on our experiences and other current events and stuff. Supposedly. In reality, we do about a page worth of writing per week, with our only big papers about 3-4 pages. One was reacting to a really simple article, and the other was a personal reaction to a French film of our choosing. Our mid-class breaks (which most French professors do) last anywhere from 15-25 minutes. Like I always say: I don't go to school.

** Nor Swayze, who is instead, regrettably, in the coroner's.

*** The vanilla ones were especially rich. I've realized that one of the things I like about Paris is that I am in a place where people appreciate vanilla as much as I do. It's no small thing-- in America, most people think vanilla is the boring flavor, the one you need to make interesting or add chocolate to or whatever (even though I really don't like chocolate ice cream). But not here. Here, they know that vanilla is not simple, but rather subtle. It is something that can stand on its own if you take the time to do it well, and that is exactly what people do. I think this also speaks to how people care more about putting time and care into finer tastes, not just chocolate ice cream because more people will buy it.

(37): Où se trouve le Louvre?

(37) is Friday, 12 February 2010.

I spent a little too much time on Friday getting signed up at the local library. I don't mean for that to sound like the process isn't worth my time-- far from it-- but rather that if

--I show up at 1:15 PM on a Friday...

--I want a hot chocolate...

--I have all the right papers...

--I'm at all intelligent...

then,

--They should open before 2.

--The adjacent restaurant/cafe should serve drinks (instead of just lunch) before 2.

--Signing up with the receptionist lady should have gone just as smoothly as it did.*

--I should have saved myself 20 minutes by finding the Hitchcock DVDs sooner and then realizing before going back down 3 stories that I needed to get the actual discs upstairs.

But the point is, for 20 euros, I have yearlong membership to a library that lets me take out DVDs, books, and other things that will let me write my Hitchcock paper and do other fun academic (or movie-watching-ic) things. The free membership wouldn't have let me take any DVDs out of the building, and that's no fun.

So, after that, I found my way to the Louvre** along with Victoria and Dan (VWPP kids). We spent 3 hours (more or less) wandering the antiquities section. Lots of neat stuff: a mummy, a pillar from the palace of... I don't remember his name (and apparently I'm too lazy to even Google it), but he was the father of Xerxes and he lived a long time ago. There were also some great figurines and miniatures and such. We also found the Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, Winged Victory (there's a great picture of me and Dan in front of it somewhere on Facebook), and more. Yeah: we kinda' mixed in some more classical European art, too.***

All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon, and I have decided that I will henceforth spend each Friday afternoon at a different museum (or different parts of the big ones like the Louvre). Those of you in a position to join me on such outings, do take note, and tell me where you'd like to visit.

At your own risk, however.

After the Louvre, we went over to Rue Mouffetard and Verre À Pied, the café Rhiannon, Yael, and I found the first day on that wonderful street. We had hot chocolate (delicious, as before), I had the best slice of apple tart I have yet had in Paris, and Victoria and Dan split an also very good crȇme brulée. We sat and chatted for about an hour or so before Dan left for host family dinner and Victoria and I rounded up supplies (like spaghetti, cheese, and cheap but good wine from wine sellers-- not cellars, mind you-- also on the street). Victoria had invited a few other VWPP people over to her host mother's apartment for a pasta dinner later.

That dinner, which didn't properly start until around 10, was great. We had spaghetti and wine, stir-fried broccoli and string beans, and these surprisingly tasty packaged Madeleines (which are lighter, but otherwise taste just like individual pound cakes). It was like we had dinner and French fortune cookies. About six of us just sat and enjoyed a great meal and conversation (both of which we made all by ourselves!) for a couple of hours. This is what young people do, right?

I then got a call from Kirill and Liz, who invited me along to a bar near Chatelet. I decided to say my goodbyes and tag along, but by the time I found this neat little bar (whose address and name I missed), I was more in the mood to catch the last train home.

It's neat to have that option... I would take the Noctilien the next night (also from Chatelet), because I made the decision to stay out late with friends. While my college experience in the states doesn't exclude that choice, it never feels quite as clear when classes are more impending and you're always close enough to where you live to feel that magnetic pull of your bed and the responsibility symbolized by having to get up out of it (also feeling the bed's magnetic pull) the next morning.

Here's my point: one of my favorite days so far in Paris was composed of seeing a museum, conversing with friends, making and sharing a simple dinner at someone's apartment, and going out for as long as I felt like. Paris is where I am learning, if little else, how to be young.

-Andy

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Footnotes.

* Bet you thought that one was gonna' be a complaint. Didn't 'cha. Yeah. Yeah, you did.

** The title, courtesy of Jenae Cohn, is a tounge-twister, a sentence made more maddening by the fact that it translates simply to "Where's the Louvre?"

*** A warning for my dear readers... Never go to a museum with me. Unless I'm seriously into whatever exhibit (remember, that's exposition) I'm looking at, I will crack jokes-- very few of them funny-- about whatever decides to sit on the wall in front of me. Combined with my relatively quick cruise speed of most museums, I can guarantee you this. Touring a museum in my company will be one of the least satisfying, most obnoxious, and-- except for my rare moments of lucidity before a work I find striking-- intellectually degrading experiences it will ever be your misfortune to endure.

(21-23): You Know, I'm Starting to Think I've Dug Myself a Hole With This Whole Title Thing.

(21) is Wednesday, 27 January 2010 and my goodness am I running behind.

Wednesday (still in my first week of class), I went to my Alfred Hitchcock class at Paris VII. I like it... well, okay, I like Hitchcock and I like being the one with the best understanding of these films in the classroom. Of the various classes I'm taking, I think I understand this professor least... he moves kinda' quickly and I have a hard time following his train of thought. I'll be doing my best to pay attention and take notes, and I'll understand what he's saying, but I will have no idea what it has to do with the other things he's discussed or where the lecture is going.* At the end of class, we watched a clip of Psycho... boy, these French film professors love themselves some opening credits.

After class, I met up with a few Sidwell friends (ha! That was a pun!) who are in Paris on various programs this semester. We had dinner at La Volcan, a nice little bistro at the top of the hill on Rue Mouffetard. I had a delicious order of mussels and fries (that's 'frites' over here... rhymes with "fleets") and, after I tasted Lumay's dessert, I decided I couldn't pass it up. The Charlotte au Chocolat is a patty (right word?) of chocolate mousse framed (literally) with vanilla pound cake and bathed in a heart-achingly good creme anglaise.** This and the Pierre Herme Macaroons (The official delicacies of posthumous Oscar recipients, in case you'd forgotten) are about tied for best dessert I have had here so far.

(22) is Thursday, 28 January 2010

Thursday (still in my first week of class), I went to my Music in Cinema class at Paris VII. I like it... well, okay, I like Hitch-- ...oh. Ha.

My 'Music in Cinema' class is great; the professor is a musician who taught at... I wanna' say Penn?... for a year and taught us a little about Baroque through present instrumental music just by way of introduction, and we ended up listening to the opening of Casablanca among other things. We discussed how the visuals of the movie will determine a soundtrack more than anything else. The result, apparent when you listen to the soundtrack alone, is music that completely ignores music theory, classical style, and other academic words for "the sorta' stuff normal composers do." More of this fun*** sort of analysis to come, I hope. This is another class, I should add, that doesn't seem to believe in homework: no syllabus, no suggested books, no suggested music, and I asked the professor about midterms and finals. He has no idea. Rock on.

I'm told the goal on the no-homework thing is for students to be "independent"... something about being motivated enough to educate yourself? I'm still (even on day (28)) trying to get my head around this one.

After class, a few of us celebrated Liz's birthday by treating her to Indian food on Rue Moufetard. Good food, affordable... I'd recommend it, but it's just one of the many things that earns the entire street its recommendation. Another such thing was one of the many crepe stands that earned itself our money after dinner.

(23) is Friday, 29 January 2010

We didn't do much Friday (but watch me write at least two huge paragraphs about it anyway). We tried to go to the movies in the afternoon, but every movie theater (I think I'll refer to them as "cinemas" from here on out) seems to show all its movies at the same times. So, if you just missed the start of your movie, well désolé, but you're in a two-hour vacuum for basically all of them. I don't know why this is, but we disbanded. Liz and I did end up seeing something, however, and the posters and trailer for it had intrigued me since I saw them shortly after my arrival. I've been recommending this extremely obscure film to everyone since, so bear with me if I've already told you to watch the trailer at this web address:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-xxAp7Hg0k

I'll try not to dwell on it too long, but Mr. Nobody was incredible: beautifully filmed, well-written, and nothing short of a marvel in terms of editing. That's because this movie is one of those ones where you're going back and forth among a bunch of different stories/realities and half the fun is figuring out why you're seeing what you're seeing. In my opinion, the ending brought it all together splendidly, even if that 'all together' could have lost 20-30 minutes between the middle and the end.

Well, I tried not to dwell on it, anyway...

That evening, that same bunch of us (plus Kirill, our new friend through Aaron) went to a party hosted by fellow JYA students from other schools and programs. It was at this great loft apartment that a few of them share-- it has a two-story living room with a big staircase in the middle, all in concrete but it actually made concrete work, and a good (and largely attractive) 40-50 people there... this is one of those parties you think only happens on TV (and... other people's blogs?) until you get to go to one yourself.

Speaking of parties-- I'm rather baffled about this one, but I've heard "I've Got a Feelin'", "Bad Romance", and (which of these is not like the others?) "La Bamba" more times in my weeks here than in my years in the U.S. I have the metro to thank for that last one.

(24) is... not in this entry. But 24 is a TV show you may know that many Parisians are just now getting to know. And they like a lot, from what I hear. No, the blog sub-entry (24) will be back after these messages.

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Footnotes

* Fortunately, today's class would render this a non-issue. Stay tuned!

** It was probably "heart-attackingly" good, too...

*** That was not sarcastic. And the Florida polls are in: I'm a nerd.

(15-17): Andy Has Many Recommendations, No Clever Title

Okay-- the great thing about naming my blog after (500) Days of Summer is that I'm totally entitled to non-linear storytelling.

(15) is Thursday, 21 January 2010

After wandering a bit, Rhiannon, Yael, Liz, and I got lunch at Paul, a very good sandwich and pastry shop... they're a European chain, actually, with many locations in Paris, London, and more. This one was right by the Cluny Museum (about the middle ages) and, predictably, the Cluny-Sorbonne metro stop. Good sandwiches, great strawberry tarts and éclairs.

Some more wandering and a layover at Reid Hall later, we moved on to one of the final VWPP orientation events: a chocolate tasting at Chocolaterie et Dragésterie Girard, a chocolate store that makes all of its goods on-site at 5, rue de la Tacherie on Ile-de-la-Cite. Our arrangement for the afternoon worked like this: Walk in the door, and they serve you a cup of what may be the best hot chocolate I've ever had (though, granted, I haven't yet made it to the nearby Angelina on Rue de Rivoli)... rich, sweet (without killing those with lesser sweet teeth than mine), and smells even better than it tastes. They also had a tray of various chocolates... fillings were so gourmet-good that I didn't even know what they were (funny how that works), including one that I could only describe as "the official Butterfinger of God."* They then took us downstairs and showed us all the machines and their entire process of manufacturing each chocolate.**

That evening, a bunch of us united on our beloved Rue Mouffetard for Becky's birthday dinner. We found a spanish place called Casa Pépé (on the street, near the top of the hill), which was a little pricey for us students, but by no means cher (French for "expensive"... very useful, as you can imagine). We all shared great Paella, I had a very good steak (12 euros) with this sauce on the side that, looking back, may have been salad dressing, but it was still really good with the meat. Also noteworthy here are the myriad objects and oddstudies that decorate the walls, the decent live music and flamenco dancer, and hysterically funny restaurant owner (Pépé, in case you didn't see that one coming) who started to do his shtick for the whole (intimately sized) restaurant at about 10 o'clock. And we may have snuck in our own wine (hard to say for sure, though... still waiting on the Florida polls).

(16) is Friday, 22 January 2010

Berthillon. Ice cream. Pretty much any restaurant on Ile-de-la-cite serves it, but it's cheapest at their parlor across the bridge (and then a block further) from the Pont Marie metro. Nobody else does fruit flavors this well... Passion Fruit, Strawberry, and Pear are good, and others await taste-testing.

Biggest item of the day was a cheese tasting which essentially took the place of dinner. It was at la Fermerie (37 rue Carnot, in Levallois Perret, a suburb to the northwest of Paris: metro Louise-Michel). Ten different cheeses from the various "cheese families" (of which 'chevre' is one) on bread and accompanied by good wine. Also paid-for by the program. I took notes on my impressions on the various cheeses, which became increasingly incoherent as the night went on. Compare my notes on the second one, which was in French, "plus doux, moins pungent que le premier" (in English, "sweeter and less pungent than the first") to number eight: "Goat cheese is an acquired taste."*** Still, a great night and a filling degustation ("tasting" in English).

(17) is Saturday, 23 January 2010

Today was the last orientation event: a day trip outside of Paris to see two chateaux. The first, the Royaummont Abbey, was nice, but it was raining and cold and January, so we couldn't enjoy the gardens or woods. We walked around and saw the gothic inside for about 45 minutes, guided by an art history professor working for the VWPP. By the time this was over, we got back on the bus and found lunch.

Oh my goodness: this lunch.

This lunch was at none other than the Hippodrome, a famous horse racing track. We were treated by the program (read: parents/financial aid) to lunch at a haute-cuisine (3 stories off the ground is pretty haute, right?) place with a great view of the track (even if it was pretty January outside). We started with a quiche that I don't even know what was in it (the same things they put in the chocolates, for all I know), but it was really good. Even the salad managed to agree with me somehow. Second course was whitefish (salmon? I'm not really sure) in this incredible sauce which itself contained mussels and little shrimps. Delicious. There was couscous as well. Then dessert: a patty (right word?) of ginger ice cream paired with a bit of orange gelatin and delicious creme de chantilly.**** Finally, coffee (which I handed off to somebody else) and little rich chocolates (which I didn't; in fact, I scored another one in exchange for the coffee). Between the view, a table with my pals, the excellent food, and no expense out-of-pocket, that may have been the single best lunch I've ever had.

The afternoon took us to the Chateau de Chantilly right nearby. Beautiful place, but I could have done without the continued (and continuous) commentary by the art history professor. We'd all gotten up pretty early, so our collective energy was starting to lag (this adversely affects interpretation of languages, like French, English, and Swahili). Not to mention that I'm always more content to just look in places like this, anyway. Still, a beautiful chateau with a lot of artworks that are prohibited by law to leave their galleries.

It's over!

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Footnotes

* Turns out that filling was caramel. Like I said... gourmet.

** Unfortunately, you can't have everything on these visits: Lucy and Ethel were out sick that day.

***#9: "Chlorine???"

****French for "whipped cream." Incidentally, we were right next to the Chantilly Chateau, which would be our next stop.

(14): l'Esprit de Paris

(14) is Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Title, in English: "The Spirit of Paris"

Fact: Organizing college students to do things in Paris is difficult.

Fact: The later it is, the more difficult it is.

Problem: I slept in on Wednesday.

Problem: I'm developing a habit of getting lost.

But anyway, I did eventually find my friends Rhiannon (yes, like the Fleetwood Mac song) and Yael (no, not like the university. Wait... you could tell that by reading it, couldn't you...). We wandered a bit in the 5e* arrondissement and found the Rue de Mouffetard (which, you'll be glad to know, is a block from the Place Monge metro stop on line 7). Until you visit it yourself, you'll only get glimpses of why I've recommended this entire charming street.

Here, we found a great little cafe with old mirrors and fun French people (many in berets and taking painting lessons that happened to be going on there that day). Here's a sign of how I've embraced price inflation: 2e50 (2 euros and 50 centimes... I realize that looks a lot like the 5e notation) for a hot chocolate is not a bad deal. We strolled this charming little cobblestoned rue some more and found all manner of pastry shops (patisseries) and affordable restaurants (we're talking 10 euros per person for dinner).

There's also a bowling alley. David Adler, you better be reading this and sharing my joy. To find it, you go through this neat little courtyard just off the beaten path and down two flights of stairs**, and the place is actually pretty nice. And affordable: as a student, you can get two games, shoes, and a drink for less than 13e (a drink at most bars here costs more than half that). We haven't gotten to bowl yet, but we will. They're open until 2 AM.

So, we strolled a while and noted how rife the street is with possibilities. This was just a scouting mission; we would be back later. For the time being, the three of us walked back to more bustling Paris, where we found a great patisserie (and I'm kicking myself for not having written the name down... I'll get it for you; I promise) and later found our way to the incomparable Pierre Hermé (72 Rue Bonaparte 75006 Paris, metro Saint-Sulpice). This may be the best gourmet sweet shop in the world. Chocolates, cakes, macaroons-- this is so haute-...whatever that they have introduced the concept of seasonal lineups-- like fashion lineups?-- into the world of things that cost a lot of money but taste really, really good. Those Macaroons are a good example, actually... I got a chocolate, two vanilla ('cause I'm me), and a "rose" one. Didn't know what that was, but I tried it later and... I was in a place. "Transcendental" doesn't do it justice; like, I took that first bite, and then I turned to Heath Ledger and we talked for a good five minutes*** and then I was back again. Anyway, point is: Pierre, Macaroons, buy, love.

We then decided to go see a movie; it was Wednesday, so a new batch had just come out (like Friday in the U.S.). We saw a movie about famous French singer and pianist Serge Gainsbourg; it was good. I still didn't understand that much of it (neither did Heath, so at least I had company), but it was much more creative than the average biopic because they were trying to capture the myth of Gainsbourg more than his life. He had sort of a puppet alter-ego who helped him, which I'm sure reads kinda' weird, but it definitely saved the movie from being just another dull award nominee. Then we got crepes and sandwiches for late dinner and went home.

This was my Parisian day... from a cafe to a favorite street to haute-cuisine to a movie about a French icon to crepes... everything I did today, I felt very Parisian while doing it.

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* "Fifth" and other adjectives denoting number are abbreviated "th" in the united states (like "5th"), but by "e" in France (hence "5e"). That's because "fifth" = "cinquième," and the same principle of abbreviation applies. I think that's neat. I also think I'm becoming a language nerd.

** Bowling and a bomb shelter-- who says the Cold War wasn't fun!

*** Mostly about golf