"C'est comme ça."

This blog post is utterly and completely overdue, kind of like a library-book-you-checked-out-from-your-high-school-library-senior-year-and-forgot-to-return-overdue. But hey, here it is! And in the spirit of library books, I'm going to arrange this post in chapter-book format, complete with preface, chapters, and epilogue (feel free to right a book report later if you wish).


PREFACE
"C'est comme ça." This is a wonderful place to begin my description of the past few months, as this infuriating French phrase is perhaps the most overused idiom in French conversation, translating roughly to "It's just like that." Let me explain to you just what is so frustrating about it through some real-life examples:

• Do you all remember hearing about the whole "oh, the French are on strike again" thing in the news recently? Well yes, but this strike wasn't just any old strike- it lasted for about a month, affecting/impeding all modes of transportation, with no guarantee as to when it would end. This is known as a "Grand Greve" aka a "Big Strike." Now, I won't get into the politics as to why this occurred, but what I will tell you is that while I was traveling through France on my spring break, my entire trip was interrupted and then cancelled when the lady who worked at the train station told me that my next train "did not exist." When I said "?!?!?!???? WHY?" she replied simply, "C'est comme ça." In my head, I was thinking: IT'S JUST LIKE THAT? 

             apparently, this is how the French think of strikes, a daily part of life for them. Not for me though, that's for sure. 

• When, in the middle of class one morning, an incredibly loud siren starting wailing and all us students were reasonably alarmed, our professor replied calmly, "Oh, C'est comme ça!" and that's all the information she gave us. 
• Finally, one afternoon I attempted to purchase a delicious looking macaroon that was placed clearly in view within the bakery's display window. The baker woman said that my request was impossible. As I stared incredulously between both her and the macaroon in front of us, I asked, "But why??" yet again... to which she replied, yet again, hmmm a million dollars to whoever can guess, oh yeah, "C'est comme ça."

      This has been a puzzle for me, everyone. As we begin our novel, maybe we will gain illumination into the whimsical and curious minds of the Parisians. then again, maybe not.

A dinner soiree at Natalie's lovely Parisian apartment, with friends

CHAPTER 1: ENCOUNTERS
Over the past weeks, there have been numerous wonderful encounters, many of which will remain indelibly marked upon my mind's view of Paris. Here are a few highlights:

• I live in a wonderful apartment on the top floor, nestled in a beautiful neighborhood within an area called Neuilly-Sur-Seine. I have my own little balcony that I love to spend time on, watching the street below (well, before the daily temperature reached a mere twenty degrees). One night I remember in particular- all the apartments across from mine have wide, brightly lit windows through which you can see familes, tvs, cats, scattered toys, colorful rugs, etc. I can also see the top of the eiffel tower, glimmering on the horizon. On the hour, every hour, the eiffel tower sparkles like a 4th of July sparkler- so on this night, while the tower was sparkling, I could see a little girl snug in her pink nightgown, piecing together a puzzle on the floor of her living room, through a window directly across from me. She was doing this with the utmost concentration for quite a while- finally, as I wondered why she had been alone for so long, her dad swept her up in the best hug I'd seen in a long time and then proceeded to help her with the puzzle. 

To me, it seemed that Paris was this way. I needed to put it together, like the little girl's puzzle, piece by piece. But I also needed that hug every now and then, when things got hard. That moment was my first intimate encounter with Paris and when I begun to understood the place for its true loveliness, in spite of its many challenges.

• Every time I go to buy bread at the boulangerie on my street, the sweet lady who works there corrects my French grammar... without fail, every time. And every time, she says, "It is good for you to learn!!" I couldn't agree more.
• Sometimes, against all odds, there are heart-warming encounters on the metro. Like when I was sitting next to this little boy- he could not have been more than 2 years old- who was busy playing with his stuffed animal. I smiled at him, and his reply was to give me the most exaggerated wink I have ever seen. I burst out laughing and he waved "au revoir" as he and his mom got off at their stop.
• There is an artisan cookie store by my school that I adore. I go there all the time and am now friends with the girls who work there. They give me extra samples sometimes.
• A waitress who works at this bistro in the Marais looks just like Amy Winehouse, red lipstick and all. Right when I noticed the resemblance, the stereo in the restaurant started playing Winehouse's song "They Tried to Make me go to Rehab." Coincidence at its finest.

View of Paris from my balcony- you can just barely see the top of the Eiffel tower on the horizon!

Dining Room and Library in my apartment in Neuilly-Sur-Seine

CHAPTER 2: PLACES

• My favorite place in Paris now: The tiny, secret, little-known Musee Delacroix, cosy in an elegant corner of St. German des Pres, one of the oldest districts of Paris. The guards are notoriously grumpy, but the museum is the quietest, most peaceful haven in the city, complete with a secret courtyard that makes you forget you're in a metropolis.
• Park de Bercy: an artfully designed park, with a line of yellow gingko trees that, in autumn, rain down so many yellow leaves that the walkway is like a warm, golden carpet.
• Shakespeare & Co. + The Red Wheelbarrow: two English book stores in Paris that I have found myself drifting back to time and time again. I have had the pleasure of reading close to ten books since the beginning of my time here in Paris thanks to these book sellers.

Me, being secret in my secret courtyard of the Musee Delacroix

CHAPTER 3: VISITS

Just to prove that Pat and Jill made it to Paris.

• There have been many visits/traveling since the Snitzel Palace adventure, beginning with the arrival of Jillian Vogel and Patrick Nichols to Paris. We had a delightful time in the city, complete with the creation of a music video, falling asleep on a street corner late friday night, miraculous Moroccan mojitos, running across bridges over the Seine, a skype date with Buenos Aires (aka Leah Elliott)  and brief Parisian kitchen dance parties. Perfection was attained that weekend, I would say.

• I traveled to Berlin, another city of heritage for me (my dad likes to say mysteriously "Nobody knoooows where the Mizes came from"... but Mize? Come on. We're German.) I was shown the city by two wonderful friends, Brian Wielicki and Joel Semakula, who are there for the semester-- what an international world I live in, I thought to myself the whole time! This visit included a party at the top of a skyscraper, hot wine and licorice at Christmas markets, walks to the Reichstag/East Side Gallery/Berliner Dom etc., a secret organ concert in an empty church, and many warm pretzels.
• The following weekend, Madison Bullard and I made our way to Praha-ha-hague to see pretty Jill V again, where we had a weekend to remember. I can honestly say that Prague is one of the most memorable cities I have ever been to, mostly for its incredible architecture- the Art Nouveau style flaunts itself from almost every building, composing an unforgettable skyline. This weekend was incredible due to many things, most notably our Pragues-giving celebration (jill just happens to have turkey, stuffing, and vegetables), a pillow fight in a club, incredible eats from a Czech food market, gorgeous views, a gigantic metronome, and lessons in history. (plus lots of cuddling)
• To cap it all off, my wonderful mother ventured to Paris for a week, during which we traveled to Avignon in Provence, the South of France, smelled lavender for two days, came back to Paris, had dinner with my host family (during which my mom discovered that she remembered French far more than she thought she did!), observed Monet's work at the Marmottan, shopped till we dropped, ate fabulous food, and shared this wonderful place together. Her visit could not have been better, she gave me the Thanksgiving family time that I needed so much!

On the Charles Bridge in Prague

CHAPTER 4: MEALS

Thanksgiving aka Praguesgiving- what could be a more exemplary, wonderful meal?

Food, food, food. Isn't that all we're really interested in? And who knows food better than the French? Here are a few notable meals/restaurants that I have partaken in, to my great delight:  

• Cafe de la Paix: directly next door to the magnificent Royal Opera Gagnier, this restaurant was frequented by Marcel Proust himself during the Belle Epoch. My mother and I ate her on her first night in Paris. The millefleurs (a dessert of layers of flaky pastry and fresh cream) are to die for.
• Favorite Bistro by the Pantheon in the Latin Quarter (i've been there a million times, but still can't remember the name!): My favorite restaurant in Paris, this place has the best atmosphere, the best food, the best service- for the best price. My order of choice is the quiche "du jour," salad, the apple crumble, and an expresso.
• Le Bouquet Bistro, Le Marais: the place with the Amy Winehouse waitress, this is a fabulous example of traditional Parisian bistro dining, complete with waiters in matching red turtlenecks who greet their "regulars" with a kiss on both cheeks and a glass of champagne. Best meal: Piping hot, cheesy onion soup, roast chicken and vegetables with a heavenly sauce/gravy, and creme brulee for dessert.
• Saturne Restaurant: an incredible new restaurant, only a few months old, known for its gastronomique wonders and its 23-year old master chef. My mom treated Madison, Natalie and me to the most incredible meal, including a heavenly dessert that incorporated mint sorbet, pear-flavored ice shaving, and chevre goat cheese. !!! Let me tell you, it worked.
• Street Vendors: Crepes are so twenty years ago, people. The things to order now from Parisian street vendors are the warm, delectable waffles drizzled with hot chocolate sauce and whipped cream... MMM.
• Laduree Patisserie: ok, i suppose we are steering away from meals technically, but Laduree sells the best selection of amazing macaroons that anyone could imagine, including flavors like pistachio, rose, salty caramel, licorice, fig, cappuccino, and endless others.

Now: Who's hungry?

EPILOGUE
As I have now realized that this blog post is actually drawing dangerously close to serious novel length, I will wind it down. All of this is just to give you all a small picture of what these past few months have been like and meant to me. I have had the most adventures any one could hope for, and learned more than I could have ever imagined possible. French is coming along too, by the way. The language is one of my great passions now. This place, PARIS, which holds so many connotations for the world, most notably in the minds of Americans, is so much more real than anyone could foresee- it is both darkness and light, both pleasure and disappointment, both ugliness and beauty. The people, the buildings, the river, the food... it all melds together in a gorgeous composition that I am trying to memorize for my the rest of my life... and all the fun lies in that goal's very impossibility. Because in Paris, after all, "C'est comme ça."

Book stalls by the Seine with yellow leaves.