Friday, after our final exam, I rushed off to the airport for my trip to visit Claudio in Paris.
Quick snippets about Clauj for those who are do not have the pleasure of his acquaintance:
He is:
a) a very nice and sweet person, who I have missed very very much this past year
b) Brazilian, and,
c) the healthiest eater ever.
He is:
a) a very nice and sweet person, who I have missed very very much this past year
b) Brazilian, and,
c) the healthiest eater ever.
{Evidence behind A)} My first night, Clauj came all the way to the airport to get me!!! Which was sweet as I had nightmarish visions of being lost on Paris transit. Further proof of his being the best Clauj of all: every morning he prepared a tasty breakfast of deliciousssss Clauj-esque healthy things (bananas, tea, etc) and clearly-for-my-benefit, not-healthy things (chocolate/regular baguettes, brioche, gaufre, carbs SO GOOD)
{Evidence behind B)} This photo.
{Evidence behind A and C)} On my first night, despite having gone all the way to CDG to get me, Clauj made me a giant and tasty dinner, complete with his new favorite ingredient: sprouted lentils.
I zoned out for most of his spiel about why these lentils are so great, but semi-absorbed statements like “it is bringing the LIFE out of the lentil!!!” and “you need to harvest the great energy within!!” Our meal: spinach, sprouted lentils, salad, quinoa, cheese…. Easily the healthiest thing I ate all weekend, as French food is not exactly known for its low-cal nature, shall we say.
Still, after 3 weeks of immersion in giant pools of jamon serrano, I/my large intestine was quite relived to be eating some super veggies.
Still, after 3 weeks of immersion in giant pools of jamon serrano, I/my large intestine was quite relived to be eating some super veggies.
The next day we kind of just wandered around Paris. I saw the requisite sites: Notre Dame, the Seine, etc. Relevantly, we encountered a Chinese wedding photo shoot. (In short, the newly rich mainland Chinese spend thousands of dollars for these wedding photo shoots. NY Times is all about photo editorials on it, yo)
I should mention that it was blustery and gray and rainy all weekend, so this poor lady was clearly freezing cold, and her dress was probably covered in the muck of the street. But, hey, all in the name of impressing the Chinese elite, amirite?
More relevantly: my first non-Clauj-produced Parisian meal!
Alannah, Clauj’s roommate, had this wonderful book about how to find cheap things in Paris. We therefore found a wonderful bistro where you pay 14 Euro for a DELICIOUS two-course meal (and 1 Euro flasks of wine)—a serious deal in a city where “cheap” is often around 20 Euros for lunch.
Alannah, Clauj’s roommate, had this wonderful book about how to find cheap things in Paris. We therefore found a wonderful bistro where you pay 14 Euro for a DELICIOUS two-course meal (and 1 Euro flasks of wine)—a serious deal in a city where “cheap” is often around 20 Euros for lunch.
Clauj (ever-demure) enjoys his meal:
Thanks to some genius subversion of the system—sorry French government!!!!—I got into to the Centre Pompideau for free (Clauj: “Brazilians always find a way!”) They had an amazing exhibit about women in contemporary art. Also great: in a random theater we encountered none other than Eszter and her friend, who are both in Paris for the quarter. Excited-reunion-chatter-unencumbered-by-modern-art ensued:
After that, we went to an extremely packed bar in order to cash in on the world’s best deal: FREE COUSCOUS WITH ANY DRINK. Pure magic!!! Of course, “free couscous” also meant waiting for a few hours outside in the cold as hip French teens took up all the tables inside, constantly creating false hope of their departure due to their smoke breaks every 5 minutes or so.
When we got tired of watching the French hipster shuffleboard going on, we tried to find a way (ala Brazilians) of getting a table via going into the bar's basement, but instead of tables we randomly encountered the world's most surreal party, involving many many drunk people dressed as medieval knights swaying in the damp, creepily-red cellar. Words cannot describe.
We ultimately decided to just wait at a table outside in the cold vs. potentially get ourselves involved in the creepy birthday/Halloween/knights/French/Celtic Revival soiree downstairs. Still, after a bit we got a table inside and also some couscous, so I was quite content.
When we got tired of watching the French hipster shuffleboard going on, we tried to find a way (ala Brazilians) of getting a table via going into the bar's basement, but instead of tables we randomly encountered the world's most surreal party, involving many many drunk people dressed as medieval knights swaying in the damp, creepily-red cellar. Words cannot describe.
We ultimately decided to just wait at a table outside in the cold vs. potentially get ourselves involved in the creepy birthday/Halloween/knights/French/Celtic Revival soiree downstairs. Still, after a bit we got a table inside and also some couscous, so I was quite content.
I actually lost my voice chatting with the lovely Boryana and her super nice Slovenian friend. The Slavic power duo was originally a trio, complete with another friend of theirs from Ukraine. Of course, true to my record of Ukrainian-friendship,
The Ukrainian girl didn’t even want to come inside the bar, and instead went back to her hotel after exchanging less than 5 words with us!!! My people, so very friendly.
Also of note:
My reaction to her, through the window: That girl on the left is clearly the Ukrainian, look how perpetually angry she looks. Stinkface is the national expression of the Uk-raine, after all.
(reported to me) Her reaction to me, through the window: She doesn’t look Ukrainian. She looks Asian.
Yeah, we’ll definitely be BFFs forever. Thanks again, homeland.
The Ukrainian girl didn’t even want to come inside the bar, and instead went back to her hotel after exchanging less than 5 words with us!!! My people, so very friendly.
Also of note:
My reaction to her, through the window: That girl on the left is clearly the Ukrainian, look how perpetually angry she looks. Stinkface is the national expression of the Uk-raine, after all.
(reported to me) Her reaction to me, through the window: She doesn’t look Ukrainian. She looks Asian.
Yeah, we’ll definitely be BFFs forever. Thanks again, homeland.
ANYWAY. Those who thought I was an okay person regardless of my slight-Asian-resemblance and I had a great time, I talked myself hoarse, and we all ate piles and piles of couscous along the way.
After that, we all walked home, a bit tipsy, and went on the train home, in a pure food coma of bliss.
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