If I Made a Mixtape....

This is the soundtrack to the trip:

Ceremony, New Order
Nobody Knows My Name, Rickie Lee Jones
Grace Kelly, Mika
Here I Am, Emmylou Harris
The Knife, Grizzy Bear
Sweet Thing, Van Morrison
You & Your Strange Ways, Sleeping States
I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good, Esther Phillips
River Man (N Drake), Brad Mehldau
Amor mio, si muero y tú no mueres, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson
Music for 18 Musicians, #14, Steve Reich
Harvest Moon, Cassandra Wilson (on YouTube, really remarkable)

Paris IV

I'm sad to say that I can now count my remaining full days in Europe on one hand. I would have thought that the trip would have flown by, but it doesn't feel that way at all. I can imagine that if I were in New York, the same amount of time would have gone so fast I’d not have noticed it—I hear that it has been cold? Gosh, it’s been quite warm Paris.

It was nice to have Andrew here--he left last Wednesday. Paris is really not that big of a city; while we were walking around we discovered that every day we unexpectedly ended up somewhere we’d been a day or two before. One day we went to the Luxembourg Gardens, I looked up the rue, saw a grand-looking structure, and said, "Should we go look at that?" We decided against it. The next day we set out for the Pantheon and when we got there found ourselves looking in the other direction down the rue at the Luxembourg Gardens. We had some good meals and a lot of crepes. I managed to make chicken stock from a left over roasted chicken I bought one night, and the next day for lunch I made a successful caramelized leek risotto. (Stay tuned: I've been on a risotto kick ever since.) We saw a fun movie called "Paris, je t'aime" one night. Unfortunately Andrew got food poisoning from some shady Chinese food he insisted on eating and was ill for most of his last day here. But he's home safely now.

I went to the Picasso Museum on Wednesday, which was pretty fantastic. Thursday I went to the Père Lachaise Cemetery and saw the tombstones of Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Isadora Duncan, Chopin (ok, I couldn't find Chopin, but I must have been really close), and others. It was darkly funny, trying to find Jim Morrison’s grave, which is completely tucked away and hard to find; there was a crew of us going up and down the isles of the section where he was supposed to be, and when someone finally found it, he shouted "Ici!" and we all rushed to gather round and stood there very awkwardly; it was definitely anticlimactic. Friday I had expected to go to the Musée d'Orangerie to see the Water Lilies, but the line was a mile long and so I opted for the Musée Rodin instead, which was very nice. Yesterday I went out on a mission for the perfect wooden spoon, which I found, along with a battery-operated scale I'd been thinking about for a while. I wandered around the Île St-Louis, where I found some lovely olive oil and truffle oil, and the Marais and les Halles. This morning I got myself out of bed by 9:00--this has only happened once or twice while I've been here--and went to the market at the Bastille, where I bought some wonderful cheese, fougasse olive bread, and amazing fluer de sel.

When I haven't been sightseeing or shopping I've been cooking and thinking about food. I just love shopping for food here. I will sorely, sorely miss the heaps of endive everywhere, and the cheese shops, and the baguettes--oh, man, the baguettes--and the thick asparagus spears... One could almost juice the asparagus, they're so succulent. I made a wonderful risotto with them last night. One day I found some amazing Basque bleu cheese, which I sprinkled over endive, and dressed with very expensive olive oil, a few grinds of black pepper, and a dash of fleur de sel. Amazing. I had the same thing for lunch today, except that I threw in the chilled leftover asparagus. I also made beef stroganov one night, which turned out pretty well.

I'm not sure how I'll spend my remaining days here..... I'm a little tired of museums. I hope to go to either Versailles or Rouen on Tuesday or Wednesday, and am even considering leaving for a night to visit Nice. We'll see.

Paris III

So a busy few days and I've let too much time pass to sum it all up adequately.....

On Wednesday I finally made it to the Hergé exhibit at the Pompidou, which--though my understanding of Tintin and Snowy and all that Hergé stands for in Europe is extremely shallow--I really did enjoy. I think that Charles Schultz might be a good American counterpart, except that Tintin's European and historical context seems to make it a different kind of artifact.

That night I had dinner with my London friend Matthew, who took me out with some of his Paris friends to a very American restaurant; I ordered a hamburger. My French may have improved a bit then amongst the natives. This was Valentine's day, and on my way to the Metro I had an excellent view of the Eiffel Tower all lit up and sparkling.

Thursday I had my hotly anticipated cooking class with Paule (www.promenadesgourmandes.com). I was mistaken thinking it would be a private course; there were three other middleaged American women also participating (some things in my life will never change: I know that I'll always get along famously with middleaged American women). This was a major highlight of my trip. Paule is a very, very smart, enigmatic, talented, and entertaining instructor--someone needs to let her do a cooking show in the US. She took us on a tour of the market at the Bastille and we then went to her kitchen to make a four course lunch (delicious cream of califlower soup, twice-baked savoury soufleé, "nage de poisson," which is a kind of poached fish dish that included the best scallops I've ever tasted, and then tarte au chocolat. We also had a cheese tasting to get things going. The second half of the afternoon was spent on a gourmet walking tour: to a spice shop, a chocolate wholesaler, a cookware wholesaler, an amazing wine shop, and then actually into the kitchen of the Poiâne bakery (there was also a bit of sightseeing along the way). Here's a photo of our motley crew:


My pal Andrew arrived that night and will be staying for a few more days. We've been lounging around a bit, usually heading out for some sightseeing in the afternoons, which is bookended by a late lunch and dinner. On Friday we explored les Hallles and other parts of the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 9th arrondissments--we stopped inside the Eglise de St-Eustache, a cathedral modeled after Notre Dame but which I found almost more affecting because it was empty, and then made way to Shakespeare & Co. Saturday was an absolutely beautiful day and we climbed to the Sacre-Coeur (photos below). (Andrew is to the left, considering the view.)


That night we met up with Dilys and Tass, my hosts in London, who were in Paris for the day to see the Tintin exhibit, and had a delicious bottle of champagne.

Today was another gorgeous spring day and we went to the Champs Elyseés and explored around a bit until it became unbearable--it was a mob scene.

And at some point we decided to eat a crèpe and go home. At some point we'll have to eat dinner.

Paris II

I managed to "stumble" upon the Notre Dame cathedral. I was very, very impressed. There was a choir rehearsing and I sat there for over an hour listening to them. Unbelieveably gorgeous, absolutely wonderful, save all the camera flashes (what do people do with all their pictures of the Notre Dame when they get home?). I also explored the Ile de la Cité--found many, many beautiful things to admire--and then crossed the Pont Neuf and sort of grazed through the Champs-Elysées. I was at that point very hungy and with sore feet, so I wasn't very diligent about soaking it all in, but I shall return. Here's another pic:

I spent a day exploring the Marais, which I found to be mostly closed on a Sunday, and later ate the greatest baguette of my life. I came home and tried to make a fish dish that was decent, but the name of the fish was lost in translation and what I cooked wasnt' exactly what I was expecting. Monday was my birthday and I--well, my Dad--treated myself to a new pair of shoes from a really wonderful little shop in the Marais which my aforementioned friend Matthew had reccommended. I complained to the sales person of my sore feet and he told me that the shoes I was wearing were almost three sizes too small; these were the shoes that were giving me such grief in Barcelona and Venice. In any case, his parting words were, "Walk better!," and since then I've had no problems. My friend Linnea--who is a friend of Kathryn's from Mt. Holyoke--lives in Paris and invited me over for dinner that night; her boyfriend, who along with her and her other friends who were present had all recently graduated from Le Cordon Bleu, prepared one of the most memorable dinners of my life.... this porcini mushroom risotto was really something worth hurting yourself for. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Here's a pic that was taken towards the end of the evening, obviously:

And at some point on Monday I had my first run-in with a really, REALLY rude French woman. I won't go into the details, but I want to mark it here as a kind of expunging so that I will stop dwelling on it.

And a great deal of today was spent recovering from last night's fun. I did manage to meet my friend Ilsa's friend Joe, who had all kinds of nuggets of advise regarding Paris and the French and who was also a pleasure to meet. I made some Indian for myself for dinner and am just about to go to bed.

Bonne nuit!

I Love Paris

I've just attempted a coq au vin that wasn't bad, but wasn't great either, and I've had a bottle of wine, and I'm eying my bed suspiciously, so I should probably reconsider this blog post, but in the current state I'll probalby go through with it.

I love Paris. No, I LOVE Paris. I desire Paris. I have an abnormal need for Paris. I want to be Paris.

I really, really, really like Parirs. I like to imagine that Paris has the same magnetic draw to me that I feel to it, even though I can also picture myself being the sucker going in for the kill. Regardless, the rest of my trip--I have exactly 23 days--will be devoted to figuring out how I can never, ever have to leave.

I arrived last night, via the Chunnel/Eurostar from London. A comfortable train ride and minimal problems getting to the apartment. I went to the grocery store and had cheese (sadly, it was kind of bad cheese) and bread (actually it was bad, too) and wine (no comment) for dinner (I bought it all at a nearby grocery store and now know where I can find the really good stuff) and then fell asleep.

My apartment is amazing. I'm renting one in the Montmarte, basically across the street from the ninth arrondissment. It has absolutely everything I need and ever want. I am, again, duly spoiled. Pictures:


The "Villa."


The parlour, with the kitchen behind.


The bedroom.

Today I explored the neighborhood, realizing that I'm a five minute hike from the Basilique Sacre-Couer, which offers amazing views of the city, and other sights in the 18th arrondissement, the Cemetiere de Montmarte, the Moulin Rouge, and other food attractions, etc. I got a wide range of propositions from the various sex shops, only bits of which I understood. I decided at some point late in the afternoon to make coq au vin for dinner, and I bought all my ingredients at a nearby open market.

As soon as I start taking pictures I will post them. Bonsoir!

London Finale

Sadly, the London chapter is about to close. I'm leaving this city feeling very good about it and sure that it won't be long before I'm back. I can imagine living here.

Tomorrow--the plot thickens--I leave for Paris!

These last few days I've been able to buy into the fantasy that I do actually live here. It's been kind of a lush life with the dog and this beautiful house (is it a flat if it's got more than one floor?). While watching TV last weekend I saw some show with this singer/songwriter named Mika on it and I was oddly compelled. Then I found out that he was giving a free show Monday night, so I went into town for that. It was good, but disappointing since he only sang three songs. I had never heard of him before, but maybe he's already an underground sensation in the US? Kind of in the vein of Rufus Wainwright, Queen, Elton John, etc.; I think he calls it 'powerpop.'

After the show I had arranged to meet with my friend Ilsa's friend Matthew. We went to dinner at a decent Italian place and then to a pub. This was lots of fun. He manages the UK branch of Nonesuch Records and offered to send me some CDs; instead, I stopped by his office to pick them up the next day. I walked away with a tote bag full of some incredible music.

Last night, I wanted to see another play--I really wanted to see The Seagull, but had no luck getting a ticket--and so Matthew joined me for my second viewing of _Rock 'n' Roll_; it was just as good, if not better, the second time. Also, yesterday, on the advise of another friend named Matthew, I visited a little bookstore called Persephone Books. They are a small publisher of reissued 19th and early-mid 20th century women's fiction and nonfiction (very similar to The Feminist Press, where I used to work), and the packaging is absolutely gorgeous. I bought two old cookbooks, one called _Plats du Jour_ and the other called _Kitchen Essays_. I've only skimmed them so far, but they are very fun.

In sum, these are a few observations from my time in London. I'll add more as I think of them.
- Men here consume a lot of the world's hairgel (and designer jeans, too)
- When you blow your nose, the snot is black
- The pedestrian does not have the right of way
- Cilantro is called coriander and arugula is called rocket
- An ounce in the US is not the same as an ounce in the UK

And today I've been lazily gathering up all my things, doing laundry, getting packed, listening to all my new CDs, and reading James's _Washington Square_. It's been fun. I started drinking wine earlier than usual, in preparation for Paris.

RLJ

Just a quick interlude... Ricke Lee Jones's new album _The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard_, was out yesterday. It's kind of a leap off into the deep end, but there's a neat article in Monday's New York Times! Also, she's going to be on David Letterman on Feb 12--would anyone be able to tape it for me?

London V

I took this picture just before Princess Basket left for the weekend with some friends of Dilys and Tass. In the few days that I spent with Basket, I've taken more pictures of her than of all my Europe pictures combine. It's a compulsion; I can't help myself.

Friday was a terrific day. I had wanted to take a cooking class in London but waited until the last minute to do any research. I was very lucky to find Ren, who teaches private Indian Cookery classes, and she squeezed me in. (You can visit her website here.) For four hours, I learned about Indian cooking and got to know Ren a bit, and best of all, I came home with a grocery bag full of the food I had prepared: a delicious chicken curry, saag paneer, and vegetable samosas. It was delicious and is all gone.

Then that night I went to Sadler's Wells for an evening of samples from their Spring and Fall dance season, which was a great introduction to some European/UK choreography. I was really impressed by: a UK dance group called Random Dance, Joson Samuels Smith's US tap dance group (I will look into them when I'm back), and the UK choreogropher Hofeesh Shecter--this guy is really good, though a little verbose. Hip-hop dance theater was also included, with a French group called Vagabond Crew. It is remarkable to watch--it's got the structure and thematic organization of modern dance with a lot of shockingly impossible breakdancing--even if a little full of itself (there, I said it), but then again maybe not exactly my thing.

Saturday was a gorgeous day in London, and I went back to Notting Hill to see the Portabello Street Market. Lots of antiques and LOTS of people, and also some produce and other foods. I also spent more time walking around Notting Hill, which I think is such a beautiful neighborhood, and then came back to Islington, found a wine bar, and read a book. Then I came to the house and made butternut squash risotto and watched three back-to-back episodes of Desperate Housewives.

I'm not sure what the plan is for today, but I realize that I haven't got a lot of time left to see the theater I want to see, so I'm going to check that out. And I'm still dying to see Notes on a Scandal.

London IV

So I've just posted some pictures. It's kind of a drag to upload them, so I interspersed them in the posts where they belong; you'll have to scroll through the old posts if you're interested in seeing them.

I think that the greatest merit of traveling this way (I guess it would define it as traveling kind of ignorantly: though I've got a tall stack of guide books and an abstract idea of what I want to do here, I really know very little about the cities I'm visiting) is that there's endless opportunities for me to be surprised. This has happened everywhere so far--in Venice and Barcelona, coming around corners to find breathtaking cathedrals, and in London to suddenly come face to face with a favorite Jackson Pollack--and it is absolutely thrilling. I've always wanted to see the Taj Mahal, but I imagine that it wouldn't be nearly as great to plan a trip to the monument as it would if I were to trip it unexpectedly.

Last night I had the pleasure of 'stumbling' upon a play. It is called 'There Came a Gypsy Riding' by Frank McGuinnness. I knew of the theater (the Almeida), where all sorts of world class stuff has happened, and I know a bit about Frank McGuinness; but I didn't know that Eileen Atkins and Imedlda Staunton were in it. Though the play has flaws, I think I saw a once-in-a-lifetime performance. Actors absolutely giving their everything. It was truly amazing. I love this.

Otherwise, I'm carrying on with Princess Basket (actually, her name is just Basket, but I like the 'Princess' part). Yesterday I took her off her leash at the park. She went wandering in the bushes and dug up some unidentifiable bone. I then spent upwards of an hour chasing her around a large round rose garden, trying to get her to mind me and give up the bone. She'd have none of it. I know now that I have my share of humility: not many people could take themselves seriously while running in circles around a rose garden screaming 'BEEFY TREAT! BEEFY TREAT!' (with a sandwich bag of poop dangling in hand, too). This was my attempt at enticing the dog to behave.