"Running around like a clown on purpose..."

We spent Laura and Jason's last night in Paris seeing Mika, a bubble gum pop star/gay icon whose songs are dangerously catchy, sung in falsetto and always a lot of fun. His show was somewhere between Freddie Mercury and an acid trip--he's all about bright colors, outrageous costumes and lavish sets. Spectacle, baby.

The concert itself was in the 'omnisports palace' in Bercy, an arena built into a grassy hill in a way that must have been really futuristic in the 80's. It was packed with a young, energetic crowd. We opted for the floor, so we spent our pre-concert time enjoying one of the perks of European venues: cheap, plentiful beer.
Mika's biggest fan base is in France, so he goes all out for his Paris shows--I think we must have cycled through about 7 set and costume changes, not to mention a collection of puppets and a back-up opera singer. The concert started with a bizarre video intro from Sir Ian McKellan (otherwise known as Gandolf or Magneto) announcing Mika's participation in a space expedition. When Mika came out on stage, it was in anti-gravity slow-motion as an astronaut among glowing celestial orbs:
Mika changed costumes every couple songs, rotating through hats, tail coats, t-shirts with tails (which I'm convinced are going to be the next hipster trend) and my favorite, a long "fur" coat that looked like it was made from muppets:
I was also impressed by the fact that Mika did all of his talking in French, and even translated the first verse of Grace Kelly into French for the live performance. We dug it. Here we are dancing and singing along (awkwardly, of course...)
The encore was ridiculous, with huge balloons tumbling down from the top of the bleachers to be bounced around by the crowd, while the entire crew of back-up singers, musicians and puppeteers joined Mika beneath streamers and confetti on stage.

Touring friends 'round the Tour Eiffel

Having guests in Paris is a good excuse to get out and take advantage of all the cool things the city has to offer that I generally ignore as a resident. It's also a cool way to get reinfected with the awe of a first-timer. Laura is the world's perfect tourist: she is eternally curious, easily amazed and all about photographs and souvenirs (LOTS of souvenirs). And she had never been to Paris before. Hearing her gasps as we wound through Montmartre or the hallways of the Louvre made me remember how ecstatic I was the first time I came to Paris. And walking through France with Jason once again just felt natural, in a comforting sort of way.

Their first day here was a beautiful day to be outdoors. We started with lunch in the garden terrace at one of my favorite crêperies, and then we just walked around--through Notre-Dame, along the Seine, past the Hôtel de Ville to Tuleries, the Palais du Louvre and the Opera House. We stopped for mid-afternoon cocktails in sunny, curbside cafés and finally ended up in the multicultural Bastille area for dinner.
The next day took us to the Jewish/Gay district of the Marais--one of the only Parisian districts that doesn't shut down on a Sunday.
In fact, the Marais was so hoppin' that we had to queue to get our hands on a pita from the legendary L'as du Fallafel. It was worth the wait, though, as Lenny Kravitz knows...
Just our luck!--an old man Jewish street band started up just across from the curb where we were sitting munching our falafel.
And then, of course, we had to take Laura to see the Eiffel Tower...
...and climb it...(Apologies for this unflattering view. Laura was my designated ass photographer for most of our trip, as she has a knack for lagging behind and taking "action" (stalker) photos)
...and only a million stairs later, voilà! Can you tell it was windy?
Monday was our day for Museum-ing, which meant that I got to see the Italian Renaissance, Greek and Roman sculptures and Egyptian wing of the Louvre for the nth time. (I really need to make it back there someday when I don't have tourists in tow to see the other parts). I amused myself by imitating artwork. Here I am, posing with Ms. de Milo and a girl who is totally jealous of my mangled limbs/torso:
And now I'm paying patty cake with an Egyptian bear.
And then, of course, we couldn't let Laura leave France without trying escargot. Delish.

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."

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.

Tourisister, day trois

The sister duo got off to a late start this morning (...okay, fine...afternoon) after a late dinner with the Cité Universitaire community last night. When we finally did get going, we took a lovely stroll through the Luxembourg gardens and the St. Michel area as weather permitted. The forecast for this whole week is pretty bipolar, meaning it can be a beautiful, blue sky-ed day when you go into a shop or a metro station, and a windy, torrential downpour when you emerge ten minutes later. (Luckily the rain is as brief as the sunshine, so as long as you plan your outdoor time around the fickle spring Parisian showers, it all turns out well.)

Next we admired the rose windows and gargoyles of Notre Dame and sampled France's favorite fastfood item: the Kebab. We then headed over to one of my my all time Parisian favorites: the Musée D'Orsay--a train station-turned art museum that houses the best of France's impressionist and post-impressionist work. For dinner we met up with some friends to visit one of my favorite French restaurants: the crowded Chez Gladine's, where the hearty Basque food was worth the rather chilly wait for a table. Always the adventurous eater, Nicole tried escargot, duck and a French dessert called "île flottante" (literally a "floating island" of meringue in a sea of vanilla custard). Her verdict? Delicious.

Tourisister, day deux

After sleeping off jet-lag and a late night of fondue, the sister duo got sandwiches for lunch and headed out to the Louvre. My original plan was to leave Nicole to wander around the museum while I went to class--alas, I had forgotten that the museum is closed Tuesdays. Instead she ended up with the cultural experience of sitting in on a French university class, meaning she was initiated to cheap espresso machines, crappy facilities, and a lecture-based course taught by a belligerently brilliant French professor. Ah, France. She hid in the back row, using an ingenious earbuds-threaded-through-the-sleeve method to listen to her iPod unnoticed as she leaned on her hand. High school boredom busting tactics seem to have evolved a lot since my youth--she also told me about something called a "mosquito" ringtone that takes advantage of the fact that youth can hear higher frequencies than adults to have a stealthy social life. Wow. Mom, dad, if Nicole's grades start slipping you know why.

After class we headed back to the Louvre area and beat the rain with a legendary, melted-chocolate-bar cup of hot chocolate at a place called Angelina. We then proceeded on to Passy, where I introduced Nicole to the furs, high heels and small dogs of the snobby 16th arrondissement ("Paris looks exactly like I expected it to") and NYU-in-Paris' cute house and garden before we headed onwards to the iconic tourist Mecca--the Eiffel tower.

Nicole, being 15 and largely too cool for school, wanted me to make it very clear that the "Eiffel Tower pose" she's striking in this photo was my idea. So there it is. I doubled the public humiliation by forcing her to order her lemon-sugar crêpe by herself, en français--fuel for the long stair climb up one of the Eiffel Tower's legs to the observation deck. I was surprised to discover that I actually had an easier time with the stairs than she did--I guess city walking has kept me in pretty good shape (even if that "shape" is considerably rounder than it was, thanks to rich French food).

Tourisister

Today was my first chance to really play host since arriving in Paris. In her debut trip not only to the city of lights but also to Europe, my little sister Nicole is spending her spring break here with me. Much to my dismay, I was unable to meet her at the airport due to my morning class. Luckily, Tom was able to give her a proper English welcome in my stead, complete with a handmade sign (that she promptly insulted believing it to be my artwork...).

Despite being jet-lagged and sleep deprived, Nicole was full of energy and excited to dive into Parisian cuisine. We took advantage of the sunny afternoon to enjoy a crêpe 'formule'--a chevre and lardon lunch crêpe followed by a rich chocolatey galette, which Nicole managed to mostly get in her mouth (with only a little in her hair, around her face and on her shirt). We then metro-ed up to Invalides for a Napolenic encounter. Here we are, striking our best Napoleon poses in front of the man himself.Then we crept around Napoleon's comically over-sized tomb:

Afterward, we came back to my place for a nap before heading back out for a long, French fondue dinner: three cheese and white wine sauce with potatoes, bread and smoked ham, and a fiery bananas flambé for dessert.