Paris

The train ride to Paris was relaxing—Dave, Olivia, and I talked, ate, and listened to music. Olivia and I listened to Dave’s ipod while he djed for us. Most of the time, dead on. We got to Paris-Noord pretty late—I’d say 11 or 11:30 and we walked to Olivia friend’s Andrea’s place. I was so ecstatic to be in Paris. Even when the train was delayed, I felt no annoyance because in my head, I still couldn’t believe that we were going to be in PARIS. When we got off, I was inappropriately starry-eyed and exclaiming about everything like an idiot, even though Paris-Noord is in a pretty shitty part of town and by no means the beautiful Paris that everyone knows. Even though I've been there before. “Look at these beautiful cobblestone roads,” “look at that gorgeous balcony,” “mmm, those falafels smell like Paris” and you get the idea. Annoying, moi. Olivia was in her element and of course wearing her Mongolian sheep skin vest. She speaks perfect French, so was able to navigate us around that night while we tried to figure out where Dave was staying and then where we were meant to be. Andrea lives in the troisieme arrondissement and there are a lot of little not-quite-fashion clothing stores around her, so we had a good time walking towards her place. Her apartment is on the sixth floor of a building with gorgeous, big blue doors and it is incredible.



It is the apartment of her friend, who either is an artist or knows an artist well. The living room is red with this great, larger-than-life portrait of a really funky, hipster girl on the wall.





The kitchen is clean and small and chic—the fridge is made of mirrors.




There are painted wooden beams in the apartment. Her roommate has his rooms on one side of the apartment. Then on the other side of the apartment, there is a fairly large room with a closet, shoes, movies, etc. and what is usually a futon/sofa, but now it is O and my bed. Connected to the room is a gorgeous bathroom, all small, shiny black tiles and clean. To the left of the bathroom are stairs leading to a small loft, just big enough for a bed and a few extras.






That’s where Andrea sleeps and she has it made up really nice with fairy lights all around her bed. In short, the apartment is gorgeous. One thing I’ve noticed though, (this is true of Alykhan’s apartment at the Hague as well) is that the “shower room” doesn’t have a toilet, which is so bizarre to me. I suppose it makes sense—those two functions are totally separate, but it’s such a routine thing to go to the bathroom before one showers, isn’t it? Maybe not in Europe.

That night, Andrea’s roommate wasn’t home yet, so we hung out on stools in Andrea’s kitchen, smoking and drinking delicious red wine and talking about everything—school, men, partying, old boyfriends, jobs, where we are all from. It was enchanting to hear Olivia and Andrea speak French. I could understand most of it, although I can’t speak too well. We drank and smoked till about two. Andrea had early class in the morning, so we all went to bed. I really like Andrea—she is a super-stylish, kind of rock and roll chic, half Argentinian and half Spanish. She has a beautiful face and gorgeous hair golden-brown-dark brown curly hair and light brown eyes. She’s warm and open.

In the morning, we slept till around 11 because we were tired. It was freezing, so me and Livs ended up cuddling for body warmth in the morning. We got dressed and ventured out—we were going to St. Germaine to go shopping, but we ended up doing quite a lot—first we went to Le Procope, which is the oldest café in Paris and used to be frequented by George Washington. We had pate (which was like no pate I had ever tasted),





foie gras, which came with this delicious warm fruit bread and fruit compote, and escargot. Then we had fish and steak tartar. We drank kir royals and wine. Olivia at one point said: “I feel like I’m on the Titanic” and it was totally justified. The surroundings were so classic and French and luxurious, we were surrounded by old rich French people. The service was impeccable, meaning the waiters would stand in the doorway at all time with their hawk-like, unswerving gazes fixed on each table they were responsible for. The perfect first meal. There was a French couple near us who were eating and drinking slowly. They were impeccably dressed, the man in a suit and the woman in a sharp green pantsuit. What was weird was that she had thrown her shoes off during the meal. Is that OK?








We stumbled out of there into the daylight, tipsy and full to the brim with rich, delicious French food. We saw the St. Sulpice, which is being renovated. Then we wandered over to where Olivia used to live, which is right by the Luxembourg gardens. We wandered around the Luxembourg gardens as well, which we crossed through to get to the Sorbonne. The gardens were not as beautiful as I had expected—more concrete than my taste, though to be fair we didn't see all of it. I think that the best part about it were the old French men playing chess. I was immediately transported back to Au Bon Pain in Harvard Square. We went to the law school at the Pantheon-Sorbonne to look around and I must say, I have never felt more ashamed of U of T’s basement classrooms. These French law students go to school next to the Pantheon, for the love of God. Their building is aged and majestic with old and musty hallways. There is must there. We have no such must. There is history there that you can feel it in the air. We have vending machines.

We then walked all around little streets near St. Germaine and went into boutiques with unexpected corners and expensive treasures. The weather was perfect: cool and crisp and sunny. Devastatingly, Olivia’s camera ran out of batteries so we were camera-less. The people around St. Germaine were stylish (nothing like Le Mariais, which comes later)—not necessarily my style (a little more bohemian and artsy and layered than I prefer), but it is Paris so everyone automatically looks great. The girls in the law school looked stylish and minimalist though. Then we went to Pierre Herme, which is famous for delectable pastries, in particular, their macarons. Surprisingly, it was almost all Asian people working there and there were probably 3-4 Asian customers during the time we were there (and the shop is small). Coincidence, but really interesting. I got something called “Desire”, which is a kind of fruity mousse with a lemony crust and strawberries. I also got macarons. We took our delicious desserts to Les Deux Magots, which is a café that Hemingway used to frequent. Since I am obsessed, obsessed with “A Moveable Feast”, it was perfect. We ate our desserts and ordered a bottle of champagne and drank and ate and smoked. The two French women next to us kept telling us how pretty and gracious we all were. It was delightful, though I’m not sure how pretty and gracious we were, considering Livs and I were all red from the champagne and stuffing our faces with dessert and guzzling champagne…When we left, Olivia and I were pretty much shit-faced, but her friend (who can evidently hold her alcohol better than two, glowing Asian girls) was fine. The people near the exit had a beautiful chow chow that we got in a cell phone picture. We stumbled over to the Louvre to go to the bathroom. I was pretty drunk but I do remember that we ended up paying a euro to go to the bathroom in some kind of bathroom boutique with like toilet trinkets and patterned toilet paper. But first we walked around the Louvre, which we caught in the perfect light—it was around 6 pm so the dusky light illuminated golden the creamy buildings and made them even more magnificent. Of course, then we stumbled over to Zara and I spent way too much money. Drunk shopping = not the best idea. Then we went to Mono-prix, where we did groceries and were, as usual, way too extravagant: rablechon and proscuitto, smoked salmon and blinis, tomatoes and yummy bread and custards and candy. Decadence.

We then came back to Andrea’s apartment. Her roommate Pierre was home (he is from Nice and also in law) and we all sat around (the three of us dead tired) smoking and talking about law and school and jobs. Livs and Andrea slept while Pierre and I watched tv. Then Pierre and I took a nap and by the time Andrea, Olivia, and I woke up, Pierre didn't want to go out so instead we just raided the fridge, ate, and slept. At the time, it felt right but it turns out that we missed our chance to go out and club in Paris. :( I suppose I will have to go back one day just for that.

If it sounds like this trip to Paris was frilly and and decadent and ridiculous, it totally was. Just the way I had hoped it would be. Days two and three to follow.