Friday, August 3, 2012

la salle à montmartre

So I got married two weeks ago and had this incredible, overindulgent holiday seeing the Alps, Venice, the Greek Islands, and Turkey, etc., etc., and we'll get to all that great stuff later, but first, I want to talk about my room in Montmartre.

As I mentioned again and again before, the week preceding my wedding, I took off on a solo trip to Paris. Since this trip, I've become a fairly enthusiastic proponent for traveling alone. I am also now a vocal advocate for having a small, private wedding in a faraway land. Really, everybody should do it. Oh, and I'm a champion for warm, soft croissants beneath heaps of Nutella as well. Mm.... Yeah....

Anyway. I digress.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

je suis marié

i am married, AKA it takes a village

On Sunday, I got married. We had a really intimate, low-key wedding...in Evian, France. Most people laugh when I tell them that the wedding was "low-key." But really, it was. I did minimal planning for the actual celebration. I didn't flutter fretfully over the decorations and food. I didn't even have to think about the decorations and food, because all of our guests stepped in and contributed to the celebration.

I'm going to share pictures. Unfortunately I don't have photos from the actual ceremony, because, you know, I was kind of busy. I'll nab them from everybody else later. In the meantime, here are some photos I did happen to sneak in here and there with my iPhone.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

où est le metro?

where is the metro station? AKA debunking myths


Prior to this weekend, I’d received a number of warnings about Paris, all echoing the same sentiment: the city is overrated and its inhabitants are rude.

This weekend, I perceived none of this to be true. 

Thursday, July 5, 2012

ce soir


Geneva sits in a shroud of heavy rain. Flashes of white lightening and low, rumbling thunder come in sporadic intervals.

I opened my windows to let in the cool air. It's refreshing after three sunny days spent walking through town in a wool suit. (Is the "tropical wool" label just a gimmick, or what? It still feels like wearing a suit of armor.)

Tonight I'm in my pajamas and my wet hair is wrapped up in towel.

The roommate flew out to Amsterdam for the weekend, so I took full liberty of cranking up Madeline Peyroux and Pink Martini and Edith Piaf on the speakers while I pack my overnight duffel. I also ate her chocolates. Oops. I'll replace them with macarons when I return.

In the early morning, I'm catching a train heading south. It'll be a three-hour ride, during which I hope to get some class reading out of the way...and maybe start composing those wedding vows...presumably, la ville des amoureux will offer abundant inspiration to get the right words flowing on paper, right?

I'll even work on it in the dining car, with a cup of coffee and an (empty) ashtray sitting beside my notebook.

(But realistically, I foresee myself blowing off the work and reading Le Cirque des Rêves instead.)

Alors. Okay. Back to packing. Paris calls for a dress and a scarf and some lipstick. And a trench coat, according to the weather report. Even if I am exploring the city on my own, I plan to play my part duly as the faux Parisienne.

Bisous!

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

les petites choses


1. My morning commute to school takes about 45 minutes. A 15 minute tram ride, a cup of latte from the train station market, followed by a 20 minute train ride.

2. The walk to the tram stop smells like fish every morning. Fish and dog waste. You learn to walk fast and avoid inhaling through your nose.

3. The river has risen about three feet since I first arrived. The day they opened up the dam, some men from an animal rescue service were freeing a swan who got its neck stuck on the bank of the river. They were pushing the bird into a cage as I walked by.

4. My roommate and I discovered the best place to get coffee at the train station. Coffee by machine is much cheaper than over-the-counter coffee. And there's this second machine in the corner of the market that fills your cup to the brim. The rest only go about two-thirds to the top.

5. My roommate puts on lipstick before she video conferences with her boyfriend every night. This makes me think sheepishly back to yesterday morning, when I stumbled out of bed and rushed down to the student lounge to conference call Chris. Who happened to have four other people hanging around that day. It was a party. And I arrived with bed hair.

6. There's this one ice cream stand about three stops away that serves gruyere and meringue ice cream. It tastes like...joy.... On that note, so does the quatre fromages pizza from the Italian restaurant down the street. As well as this avocado, mozarella, and prosciutto salad served at the same place. And that dry, white wine that I had for dinner earlier tonight. Okay. So the food and drink here are pretty spectacular. I just have to stop complaining about the prices long enough to taste it.

7. I drink water straight from the tap. It tastes better than bottled water back at home.

8. I try to speak French everywhere I go, but nobody is fooled. I'm still the American. Conversations proceed as follows:

"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour...Je vais prendre du jus de pamplemousse, s'il vous plaît."
"That'll be four francs." Damn. The minute I open my mouth, I'm labeled a foreigner.

In Cambridge, a barista once told me that I sounded English when I responded, "That would be nice, thank you." I was so flattered. Although, come to think of it, if he had to tell me I sounded English, then I wasn't exactly fitting in...

9. My dorm room came with exactly one trash bag and one roll of toilet paper for the entire month. For garbage, we've made do with shopping bags. As for toilet paper, we split a pack of toilet paper with the boys next door, but we just ran out. I started nicking toilet paper from establishments. Just ripping off a handful here and there. Yesterday, I progressed to the more advanced stuff: I took an entire roll that was just sitting there, tempting me, in the campus bathroom. I also...took some packets of salt and pepper from a gas station restaurant in Germany. For cooking my eggs. Mm. At what point do you cross the line from frugal living over to petty theft?

10. I still haven't found the running path. Instead, I've been getting my exercise via a whole new routine: window-shopping. On cobblestone paths. Sometimes in heels. It's a real calves-toner. And everything is so...pretty.... It's a pity about the prices.

I never thought I'd say this, but I can't wait to go to Paris this weekend and find some really good deals!

lieber gott...

mach mich dumm, damit ich nicht nach Dachau kumm...

dear god...make me dumb, that i may not to dachau come...


If you're looking for a leisurely, carefree holiday in Munich, you should probably avoid Dachau Concentration Camp. It's dark and unsettling and, on more than one occasion, overwhelming.

But I wouldn't skip it. In fact, I recommend making a day's trip out of it, giving yourself plenty of time to read through all of the signs and taking moments of silence where need be. And then you might attempt to end the day by sitting in pensive silence over a beer at your neighborhood biergarten.