Nantes Jaunt

I spent this past weekend exploring another corner of Bretagne (Brittany). By "exploring" I actually mean "eating my way through", à la Eric Carle's very hungry caterpillar. This trip was organized by our French office assistant who has a taste for the gourmet, so we took full advantage of all of the fresh fish, kouing aman pasteries, salted caramel, crêpes and non-Parisian prices the region had to offer.

We started in Nantes, the capital of Bretagne and the 6th largest city in France, which was cute if rather bland. With a tram system, a small "ethnic" quarter, a medieval center and six-floor white buildings with wrought-iron balconies, it felt basically felt like a smaller, cleaner Paris with less people and wider streets. Highlights were visiting the little fortified castle in the town center, where you could see an old German war bunker from the WWII occupation as well as the site where the Edict of Nantes was signed. Before leaving Nantes we payed a visit to the Île des Machines exhibit, a "robotics" museum/workshop where one can see/interact with mechanical wood artwork vaguely inspired by the imaginary universe of Nantes-ian writer Jules Vernes. The coolest robot by far was an enormous wood and leather elephant, which is big enough to fit 40 passengers for a short jaunt around the square.

Next we hopped on a bus and continued on to a Muscadet vinyard on the edge of the Pays de la Loire Departement. The couple that owns and single-handedley runs the vineyard gave us a tour of the still rather dead-looking vines and the production facilities of their award-winning wine. I learned about wine production I hadn't known previously. Apparently you don't leave the grape skins in wine (too sour) and red grapes can therefore be used to make white, rosé or red wine depending on the delicacy and time-frame of the juicing process (for example, apparently all "authentic" Champagne comes from red grapes). Even if they don't do much for the taste, however, the skins are the source of the yeast, which ferments the wine by converting sugar into alcohol until such a point that it dies from the alcohol concentration it has created. (The difference between grape juice and wine is therefore simple pasteurization, which kills off the yeast before they get a chance to start making alcohol.) Afterward the wine-making lesson we were treated to a wine tasting of a young 2009 Muscadet (sweeter, almost bubbly, and more acidic) and an older 2003 one (drier, smoother). I liked both, but opted for the older as my souvenir.

We spent the night in La Baume, a small coastal town that was pretty, though pretty much like any Maryland or Delaware beach town in the off-season. The water was still a little cold for swimming but we enjoyed a stroll along the sand to find some shells, and our five course dinner was in a restaurant literally on the beach.
Saturday started with a trip to the marshes of the Presqu'il de Guérande, where the famous "fleur de sel" sea salt is harvested by hand from seawater channeled inland and concentrated in a series of canals and shallow pools. We toured the salt pools, then visited a co-op to purchase some local food products: jams from local berries, a seaweed tartar (also harvested from the swamps), Bretagne's famous salted caramels, and of course, salt. The salt looks like greyish rock salt and is valued by gourmet chefs for its delicate flavor. I'm not going to lie, I don't quite "get" it, but considering that a wholesale bag was only a euro I figured I'd give it a try.

A later boat ride through the swamps made me nostalgic for the Chesapeake Bay, whose shallow waters, grassy duck blinds, herons and crabs are surprisingly similar to those in Bretagne (although, of course, better--Maryland pride!). We ate lunch in the fortified medieval town of Guèrande, then walked around the picturesque village of Khérinet to see the rustic houses with roofs made of swamp grass. By the time I finally got back I was gorged with gourmet food, exhausted, and highly satisfied: both to have seen a little more of the "real" France beyond Paris and to have that feeling of returning "home" attached to Paris on the train ride back.

It's official...

...I'm staying in France for the next year! Heard back about the French language teaching assistant gig--got an offer for Paris, which are often hard to come by, so I'm excited in spite of the shitty pay. Also have a lead to apply for a position with a study abroad company, I just have to get my application together. Oh yeah, and look for an apartment. But before I get bogged down in the details I thought I should get this off my chest:

WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!

Tourisister, day sept

Our plan for Nicole's last day had been to visit the catacombs (what better way to celebrate Christ rising from the dead than with a stroll through piles of bones, eh?) but alas, they were closed. Instead, we went North to the hill of Montmartre and its voluptuous cathedral of Sacre Coeur (seriously, it has always struck me as an extremely feminine and sensual building, especially compared to the harsh Gothic towers of Notre Dame). Nicole liked the view over the city but was even more entranced by the street performers and portrait artists. After buying her some scarves (so that she would stop threatening to steal mine, which she had been wearing all week) we continued on to the last stop on our tourist hit list: the Arc de Triomphe, its flame honoring the unknown soldier, and its surrounding asterisk of grand boulevards radiating outwards in the shape of an étoile ("star").

I accompanied her to the airport this morning (early, early this morning) to see her off. Unfortunately, with the new security measures I couldn't follow her any further than the line for the passport station. Left to pace behind velvet ropes as I watched my kid sister pass through to security alone, I understood why saying "bye" to me at the airport has always been a heart-wrenching affair for my mother. "Have a good flight," I said, "and a good rest of the school year." She hugged me: "have a good...um...life in Paris?"

I relished that remark on the train ride home --my life in Paris--as if my sister saying it had made it real. When I arrived in September, it was with a nomadic, "this is temporary" mindset; my academic year in France was a mere a blip in the trajectory of my path before I start Real Life. At the beginning, I bought as few dishes and linens as I could manage, I neglected decoration, and I packed lightly, always conscious of being able to easily erase the traces of my time here and bring stuff "home" to the States. Hosting a visitor made me appreciate how much this city has really become my own over the last few months, and how at home I feel here--to the point that I'm beginning to plan a life here beyond my Master's.

As if determined to prove my French-ness, I stopped at a boulangerie on the way home to pick up a baguette and some breakfast pastries for Tom and I to share. Later we took advantage of the lovely day and warm weather to take a stroll through the blossoming tree-lined streets of the "Chinatown" area in the 13th arrondissement, stopping for some pho and frogs legs at a Vietnamese place. Verdict: they taste similar to chicken (which is to say vaguely meaty and salty, I suppose) but have a texture more like white fish... the muscle kind of flakes apart inside the crunchy outside, and you end up with a cute little pile of frog bones. Dinner: left over ratatouille and a whole kilo of fresh spring strawberries. Vive la France!

Tourisister, day six

Feeling lazy, so tonight's tourist diary is going to be heavy on pictures and light on narrative. Tom had a friend from Oxford in town for the day, so Nicole and I met with them at Angelina for yet another decadent hot chocolate (much to the delight of Nicole, aka "the dessertaholic"). After gorging ourselves with chocolate, we browsed through the wall-size Monet works in the Orangerie museum in the nearby Tuleries garden. Arriving home later than expected, we grabbed a crêpe from a vendor to tide us over until a late dinner that would take place after a trip to the movies for 3D Alice in Wonderland. (Verdict: surprisingly not as dark as expected. Enjoyed the real world/wonderland doubling and the jabberwocky references, but kinda "meh" as a whole.) Dinner later, at Nicole's request, was Tom's homemade ratatouille. As the French would say: miam miam! ("yum yum")

Tourisister, day cinq

Nicole has spent the day dissecting basic French sentences and talking about taking French classes when she gets home. Her reasoning? Paris is the first city she really likes, and she thinks she could totally see herself living here if only she spoke the language.

I'm not sure if that's a win for me or for France, but I'll take the the credit either way.

Today we took the RER C train to the end of the line to admire the decadent luxury of the Versailles Chateau that was home to the last kings and queens of France. (Back story: fearful of pissed off Parisian peasants, the King decided to relocate his palace from central Paris, the building that currently houses the Louvre, to Versailles, a castle in the country where he was still close enough to the capital to be useful but far enough to fritter away tax money without being bothered by his citizens. Rather than fear hostility from the nobility, the king brought them along, too, gave them housing in his gilded castle and made them a part of the lavish ceremonies surrounding his personal life. Alas, all of this only served to delay the uprising, and the royal line was beheaded a short while later.) The chilly, rainy weather prevented us from wandering too far into the extensive gardens, although we did get a good view of the main fountain and hedge patterns from the windows in the upper floor. Nicole's favorite parts were the over=decorated bed chambers of Louis XIV and Maire Antoinette. Mine was the celebrated "Hall of Mirrors" which was fully restored and operational for the first time during my many visits--in fact, here's a picture!

We took a late afternoon coffee break at my favorite café to sample some macarons (a French delicacy cookie made of cream and meringue). Nicole loved them so much that she's determined to buy a small box before she leaves as her "souvenir" to eat on the plane. She also learned how to grocery shop à la française as we picked up ingredients for a make-your-own-pizza dinner and Saturday morning brunch. In other words she learned to use a small cart, weigh and price her own vegetables, bag her own groceries in environmentally-friendly reusable sacs, and only buy as much as can be comfortably carried home.

For an after-dinner treat, we headed out to Trocadero for the outlook over the Eiffel Tower and its reflecting pool, popping a bottle of "Champommy" (a sparkling cider with a champagne cork) as the tower sparkled at midnight. In the company of countless other young people who were celebrating with more than cider, she also got a lesson in flirtatious French men--luckily, she had me there to tell them to "va-t'en."

100 posts and going strong

This post marks the 100-post anniversary of this travel blog. Woohoo! I thought I'd celebrate with a photo post. Taken with the camera in my cell phone, here are some moments captured in my day-to-day life around Paris. To start off with, here's a picture of my friend, Lucy, on our walk home from a café and the grocery store. I thought she looked very French:
A weird iron grill on a building I found walking around the 7th:
An awesome hat, observed in metro hub Châtelet-Les Halles:
A view up boulevard Général LeClerc from Alesia:
And the nearby fresh fruit and fish markets:
A woman rocking some strange boots outside a café where I was reading and enjoying a café crème and a tiramisu macaron:
One of the best close-up shots I've been able to get of the ubiquitous Space Invader graffiti (most of them are too high for me to get close to):
A cool street musician band we ran into in the St. Germain area. Called "Texas CousCous", they feature 18 members, mostly on brass instruments, and play jazzed-up covers of pop songs:
A 100-euro bill. I should have taken a photo of it next to another bill. For anyone who hasn't handled euros before, the size of the bill increases with the denomination, so these are comically big:
A poster highlighting the gender wage gap. Woohoo!
An old Frenchman on WiFi outside a cafe:
A cute dad, giving his toddler a shoulder ride inside the Metro. He had the art of ducking when entering/exiting a car down...didn't scrape her little head once.
The NYU metro stop (Passy) in the swanky 16th arrondissement. Taken on my way home one particularly clear night:
Zombie baby:
This is kind of blurry, but I think it's funny that the regular type of Durex here (by far the most popular condom, like the Trojan of Europe) are called "jeans" (I guess to evoke associations of comfort? They're definitely nothing like denim) and that the XL size has a tape measure. Subtle.
And last, some cool cow art at a smoothie bar on the way to Paris VII. It says "Life is a dream: achieve it!" Why thank you, Ms. Cow. I do believe I shall.

Tourisister, day quatre

Today Nicole sampled a bakery "formule" (choose your own drink+ sandwhich/quiche+ delicious pastry) and hit the town--on her own! Yes, while I studied 19th century literature, Nicole had a picnic next to the pyramids of the Louvre and then joined hoards of other tourists to admire the Mona Lisa, the Venus de Milo and other great works. We met up later to get some gelato and some last minute cheap "seats" at the Opéra Bastille for a very bizarre ballet called Sidhartha.

We both agreed that the show's dancers were top notch, but the show itself was rather incohesive and yet another example of France trying too hard to be edgy and modern with their art. Instead they just managed to be weird, and the performance left both of us scratching our heads. If I had to describe it I would say it was a music and movement interpretation of a surrealist paining updated for the modern era (read: minimalist, floating objects, satellites and aliens). Its discordant soundtrack was not unlike the tuning and scales noises that filter through my floor from the saxophonist and flautist who live above me. Overall, it was a fun evening together and an interesting cultural experience--but I'm really glad we only paid 5 euros apiece for tickets.