To Be or Not to Be... a Tourist.

In the world of travel, there's a movement away from tourism, encouraging us to be "travelers" instead of "tourists," to seek the hidden parts of a city instead of facades erected for the masses.  For the most part, I buy into this philosophy.  For example, it's better not to rely heavily on guidebooks lest you see a place through the authors' eyes instead of your own  (of course, with a city as prominent in film and literature as Paris, it's impossible to visit without preconceptions).  I also avoid tacky souvenir shops 100% of the time.  Some people, though, take anti-tourism to the extreme: they skip the major sites altogether.  I don't think it's necessary to avoid going to monuments just because they're popular-- they're popular for a reason, and in Paris I found, for very good reason.  The monuments and museums are steeped in history, their architecture is magnificent, and they are a pleasure to visit, even if you are secretly checking off the "must-see" places in the back of your mind.

The most-visited site in Paris is not, as one might think, the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre, but La Notre Dame.  I climbed the 400-something spiral stone steps up the towers to view the gargoyles and the city (and the huge bell):

I didn't even get close to the Eiffel Tower on my first day, there was so much to see in other parts of the city.  But the second night, I did.  The fog made it look like the top was lost in a golden glow:

I crossed the Seine and walked to Les Champs Elysees-- where the Arc de Triomphe stands in the middle of the busiest intersection and the street is lined with fancy stores, restaurants, and a Christmas market. Later in the week, I climbed to the top of the Arc.

I spent half a day in the gargantuan treasure-trove that is the Louvre (got lost inside even with my printed-out self-guided tour), saw the Mona Lisa (and the perpetual crowd surrounding her) and other masterpieces that impressed me even more. 

So I saw most of the "must-see" things in Paris-- that type of sight-seeing was tiring, even pacing myself as I did.  I gave in on day four and swapped my fashionable black boots for sneakers, to save my brutalized feet. So what if I look like a tourist?  At least I speak lovely French (to the surprise of all the Frenchmen that approached me ;)

Mon Premier Jour

I arrived in Paris at 11pm on a Sunday night and, after navigating the gargantuan train station with only a few mishaps, headed toward the apartment of an acquaintance, where I was to stay while he was away.  It was in the suburbs of Paris and a 30-minute walk from the train.  On a snowy night, with a heavy duffel, the up-hill walk was more of a trek.  On the crest of the hill, I correctly thought that if I turned around, I would have a view of the city.  Just as I turned, a spotlight spanned overhead, coming from none other than the Eiffel Tower.  There it was right there in front of me!  And as I looked on, the Tower suddenly burst into sparkles, like little stars, a sight confirming all the ideas of Parisian glamor and magic floating in my mind.  It was sparkling because it was exactly midnight.. I couldn't have timed it better had I tried. 

They say one is lucky to see Paris at Christmas under snow.  I must be lucky because I awoke the next morning to find a winter wonderland of fresh powder.  Me heading out on my first morning:

 I took the subway into the city, without a plan, except to get off somewhere downtown.  My wandering took me to the Seine:

 The Louvre:

  Les Tuileries (above and below) where I bought breakfast from this pastry shop. A thrilling first day.

PARIS

The most beautiful city I've ever seen-- everywhere I look there are architectural wonders, statues aestetically placed, bridges spanning the Seine, people straight out of fashion catalogues walking down the street, immaculate window displays.  There are more sidewalk cafés and crèperies than could ever be tried.  Every building I enter has soaring ceilings or collosal pillars or stained glass windows.  And at night-- the lights!

I'll tell you more about my trip day by day, but for the moment I don't have Internet access where I am staying and I'm paying out the nose for these few minutes at an Internet café.  Details to come-- Merry Christmas everyone!

Stereotypes

In the French imagination, Americans are sloppy fast-food eaters.  In the American imagination, the French are rude wine-drinkers with mistresses.  The wine part is true, I don't know about mistresses, but today I'll share my view on the "rude" stereotype (just as I contradict the American fast-food stereotype every chance I get).    

I have yet to come across a rude person in France.  I've been around the city, asking for directions, buying things in broken French, dining out, and everyone has always been cordial.  In fact, French people tend to be more polite than the average American.  They follow a set of courtesies.  For example, every time you get on the bus, you greet the driver with a "bonjour" or "bonsoir."  Every time you get off the bus, you say "merci, au revoir."  Every time.  And they always bid their passengers a good day.  Likewise, when entering a shop, always greet the salesperson, even if they're occupied.  They claim that to not do so would be like entering someone's house and not saying hello.

I spend a lot of time on public transportation so I've had the chance to observe the following: it's still commonplace for someone to give up his or her seat for an elderly person or someone who looks like they need it.  It still happens in the U.S. (right? I hope?) but I'm impressed with the consistency of it here.  Should an old lady get on a bus, she's offered a seat without fail.

Living in the south of France might skew my perception of French manners.  Apparently France is composed like the United States, with the "friendly" people living in the south-- maybe the warm air puts them in a better mood than their northern counterparts.  That makes New York City analogous to Paris-- home to the rushed, rude, tourist-sneering city-dwellers.  Maybe there I will run into the stereotypical Frenchman.  I'll let you know because I'll be there in two days!        

Noël

Today my freshmen and I compared Christmas in the U.S. with Christmas in France.  Here are the generalities we came up with:

Similarities include:  Santa (Père Noël), decorating Christmas trees, opening presents on Christmas Day or Christmas Eve...

-The main dish on Christmas day might be turkey, but it may very well be roasted chapon (a castrated chicken which allows it to grow more muscle and fat than the ordinary chicken). And always foie gras (duck or goose liver that everyone claims is delicious!).

-They drink champagne, but haven't heard of eggnog.

-Instead of Christmas cookies, they have bûche de noël.  We call it the "yule log" and they can look like this:

-As in the U.S., Christmas lights vary by neighborhood.  Lyon has une Fête des lumières, which draws crowds of spectators.  While there are city lights in Toulouse, I haven't seen any on private residences, though they tell me that's more of a countryside tradition.

- Instead of stockings on the fireplace, there are shoes left under the tree.

- Some carols have trickled over--- jingle bells was playing over the school loudspeaker in between classes--- but not to a great extent. Definitely no radio stations playing only Christmas songs.

That's a summary of my classes today; the students were particularly uncooperative and I'm glad to be rid of them for three weeks.  More French Christmas insight in the days to come, I'm sure!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Toulouse is decked out in Christmas spirit-- decorations in the stores, lights strung over the streets and hung from buildings, a big tree.  As in New York, there are carts selling roasted chestnuts (chataignes grillées ou marrons chaud) on the corners.  A guy on the sidewalk plays the accordion (granted he's always there, not just at Christmas, but he still adds to the ambiance).  And fire jugglers seem to come out full force: I watched one man twirl a fire baton around, walked a quarter of a mile, and found another fire-dancing group.  They perform nightly, probably to take advantage of the crowds milling around shopping, eating, and ready for a spectacle.  But the biggest deal at Christmas in Toulouse is le grand marché de Noel -- the Christmas market.

 Unlike the normal French markets that are set-up and taken down every day, the Christmas market is a permanent fixture in the Capitol square throughout December.  The stalls are little wood cabins strung with lights, open everyday and every night.  They sell gifts like scarves, games, jewelry, berets, bonsai trees... Here's one with Russian nesting dolls:

 

But like most things, the big draw of the market, the main attraction, the specialty of most of the cabins is: FOOD. 

 

Sausage-filled baguettes.

 Foie Gras-- the French Christmas delicacy-- duck or goose liver.  Expensive stuff.

 VIN CHAUD- hot wine with cinnamon.

 Dried sausage, also a specialty.

 Gourmet Cheese.

Tartines: fresh bread with cheese melted on top.  They smell amazing.

Candy.  Chocolate, of course.  Pastries. Hot chocolate. Churros. Special Christmas bread. There was only one stall that had tacky Santa things. 

Christmas markets happen all over France-- huge ones in Paris.  The oldest one, in Strasbourg, has been happening for 431 years.  It almost reminds me of a summer fair in America with all the crowds paroozing the aisles, indulging in fattening, seasonal food...  The lights:

    That's Christmas-time in the city!

Les Toilettes

Public restrooms in France are exceptionally rare.. I don't know why. (same goes for drinking fountains; I've yet to see one).  Even in heavy-traffic areas like train stations, finding the bathroom is like a finding the hidden tomb inside the pyramids.  And when you do come across one, you'll probably have to pay 0,30- 0,50 € to use it.  If it's free, don't expect to find toilet paper, so if you're doing a lot of traveling, carry a roll with you.  It takes a while to get use to how to flush-- buttons and pulley-things instead of, well, a normal flusher.  There's also the possibility that there won't be a seat and the bathroom will look like this:

I had read about their existence but had never actually used one...

The Streets of Toulouse

Picture Time:

C'est très jolie, n'est-ce pas?

The Art of Entertaining

Is entertaining at home becoming a lost art in America?  When's the last time you were invited to someone's house for a meal (aside from big holidays and the awesome poolside fests that exist in my family)?

The practice still seems to be common in France.  I eat at least two meals a week at other people's houses. Last Sunday I was invited to eat with the family of the girl I tutor.  We had a nice lunch of salad with duck, potatoes, steak, chocolate cake... followed by a stroll around the city.  Not all the meals I'm invited to are fancy, most are casual, with unpretentious hospitality.  The French don't seem to need a formal reason to invite someone nor do they make a big deal out of it; maybe some Americans over-dramatize the affair or maybe we're just too busy.  Not a judgment, just a thought.  Your opinion?..

My invitations have allowed me to observe the French way of life in different families and to try food as they make it at home, not only in restaurants. So I'm thankful that my acquaintances welcome me in their homes.

(Side-note: In my own kitchen, my two latest endeavors: pears poached in white wine; pumpkin risotto.  Improvised risotto because I didn't have any Parmesan and I couldn't really taste the pumpkin, but it was still really good. Major comfort food.)

Two Itty Bitty Inconveniences

Two things I find slightly inconvenient about the French: 

1) They take a TWO HOUR lunch break from 12-2pm, a big gap in the middle of day when everything shuts down: little bakeries, big bakeries, museums, Apple stores... If the hours say it's open from 9-6, you should assume they mean from 9-12 and 2-6, just to be safe.  There's a large public library in Toulouse that closes down in the middle day like this.  If you're in the middle of a project at lunchtime, they kick you out to do who-knows-what until they re-open.  You'd think they'd be able to give the employees lunch breaks in shifts so that they wouldn't have to close.. but no.

2)  Restaurants don't serve dinner until 7:30pm.  This goes for most of your middle to upscale restaurants, even bistros in bars.  I discovered this when, after a tiring day of sight-seeing, I was ready to eat at 6:30-- a totally reasonable dinnertime, one would think... but my options were to wait it out until 7:30 or to buy something on-the-go from a boulangerie, snack bar, or sandwich shop.  Keep this in mind when traveling in France. :)