Sacre-Coeur, Notre Dame, Versailles, Oh My!

Feb 3

Alas, another five days sans post. There’s just too much Europe to see, and not enough time to write about it.

Mes amis Alex, Morgan and Hannah cruised in from London on the Eurostar this past Thursday. We kicked off their tour of Paris with a baguette, some fromage and wine chez moi. It’s always fun to see people experiencing new places that they’ve always wanted to visit. Alex was like that kid waiting in line to meet Cinderella at Disneyland… just so excited for what he knew would change his life. We tried to find an authentic restaurant in my neighborhood for dinner, however, I haven’t done enough exploring to know where all the hot spots are quite yet. We ended up in the Bastille neighborhood at a small place called Que Pasa? It wasn’t exactly what we were looking for, but authentic Spanish sangria in Paris is still pretty good.
Later that night, Hannah and I found a new roommate for my apartment. He’s pretty quiet and likes to hang from the ceiling. He’s the Hangover Cow! And he didn’t just get his name because he hangs over my bed. He also glares down upon me during those hungover mornings with his judgmental eyes. What makes you so perfect Hangover Cow!? He’s almost like my guardian angel. It’s a love-hate relationship. Oh, the things he will see!

The next morning I jetted off to the last day of my two-week preliminary course. We spent a jovial afternoon chez Lindsay, then prepared for the night. I prepared about 20 frozen shot glasses for our group to help set the mood for the night. Needless to say… mood set. Off to Le Duplex! About 100 yards from the Arc de Triomphe, this place was pretty chic. A group of about 15 (I think 10 people didn’t get in) danced the night away on the three floors of music. A cab ride and a 6-person-per-bed nap later, we caught the metro back home once it had opened again around 6am.

Saturday, we (Morgan, Alex and I) met Dave at the Sacre-Coeur. This is definitely one of my favorite spots in Paris. We climbed the hundreds of steps to the top of the hill where the church rests, only to stumble upon a completely panoramic view of Paris. The sun was shining, street musicians were performing, good company was at my side. This is a great place to realize where you are and soak things up.
Next we explored a little bit of the Montmartre neighborhood. We found this massive megastore called the Sexodrome, and were just too curious to pass it up. As Alex says, “We saw things that can’t be unseen.” I’ll leave it at that. We kept walking until we ran into Le Moulin Rouge. Which, according to Alex, is French for “The Red Moulin.”
Next stop on our touristy whirlwind day of Paris; Ile de la Cité, which is the island on the Seine River that supports such structures as St. Chappelle and Notre Dame. We were too late to visit St. Chappelle, but Notre Dame was still open. This structure is truly remarkable. Urban Design major, and friend, Dave, told us all that Notre Dame was built without using any metal. It’s so big and all stone! How it was built so many hundreds of years ago and still stands today is remarkable. Another fun fact thanks to Dave; you can tell which stained glass windows are original and which ones are replacements by the brightness of the colors. Even with the technology we have today, we cannot replicate the vivid colors of the stained glass that was installed when Notre Dame was first built.
Walking over towards the Marais neighborhood, where one can find some of Paris’ best boutique shopping, there was a small incident where an ATM literally ate my card and just didn’t give it back. Who’s ever heard of that happening? No worries, though. A new one’s on the way. Nothing gets between me and shopping. This was my first time exploring this neighborhood and I fell in love. I think I know what people mean now when they say love at first sight. Most of the guys bought vests at a vintage shop for 5 euro each. We meandered along the maze of quaint, narrow roads for a little bit, then split for dinner. The night was spent among friends laughing and playing games at Lindsay’s palace of an apartment.

Sunday can just be described in pictures because they say more than I could in words.


The school week started and I had my first classes of the semester. It was a bit overwhelming attending every single class in French. Listening to and trying to absorb that much French started to give me a headache. I suppose that’s how learning a language works, and I’m sure things will get easier, but for the moment, it’s still frustrating. Anyways, my schedule is nice and I enjoy most of my classmates and professors.
Last night, Will, Diana, and I had dinner at Cait’s place in the 15th. Cait and I became good friends when she said her favorite shows were Glee and Modern Family. Turns out she had Glee Season One on DVD, so we started our mission to work through the whole season last night.

And here we are, caught up to the present moment. What am I doing? Lying in bed on Wednesday afternoon (no class on Wednesdays!) blogging.

Off to do some more shopping in the Marais before the sales end this weekend!

London, baby!

Jan 29

FINALLY GOT INTERNET IN THE APARTMENT!

First, I must apologize to my dedicated audience. Now that I have access to the internet, and that my schedule has approached some pattern of regularity, I’d like to hope that I will never again starve my readers of the meaty entrées that are my blog posts.

Rewind back to Thursday (Jan 21). Fortunately I took notes on my experiences and feelings since then. I wrote, “Frustrating day lingually.” Let’s unpack that, shall we? I’ve now been in Paris for more than two weeks and I have been feeling the affects of immersion. Every interaction I share with a Parisian requires me to speak French, and it can be both exhausting and frustrating. Sure, I know how to get around a word I don’t know by describing it with other words. But not being able to express yourself and then be understood is the frustrating part. Since I have arrived, I’ve opened a French bank account, I’ve purchased a French cell phone, I’ve activated French internet, I’ve ordered French food. Of course, I’m proud of all these small accomplishments, yet the inability to create solid and efficient sentence structures seamlessly requires a lot of patience. And, yes, I know that comes with time and practice and whatever. But I feel like I’m treading water with my little floaties on, and all I want to do is play with the big kids in the deep end (to do list: Get picture of self wearing little floaties).

Anyways, I saw my first opera on Thursday! It was at the Opèra Comique and the show was called The Fairy Queen. The house was a quintessential Parisian opera house decorated ornately with gold leaves and angels. The building must have been a century old and the seats were raked so dramatically that the mezzanines and balconies were literally stacked on top of eachother. Basically, I was sitting in the wall of the fifth mezzanine and could look straight down to the orchestra seating. The opera itself was an adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the director really exercised his creative license. Scenes would transition from Victorian era settings and costumes to those of modern day. At one point, there were upwards of 30 mascot-type bunnies on stage fornicating in positions I didn’t even know were possible. It was a very… cultural night.

On Friday, I took the Eurostar through the chunnel to London for the first time. On the train, a couple of six year olds speaking French caught my ear because I could actually understand what they were saying. I don’t know if I should feel happy because I could understand French people, or depressed because they were six. The ride was only two hours and I was surprised to find Alex and Morgan waiting for me. Shortly after, Liz and Jamie showed up and I took my first tube ride… after getting pictures at Platform 9 ¾, of course. I was surprised at how loud and busy London was right when I stepped onto the streets. Coming from the delicately respectful city of Paris, I felt like I was back in New York. Everyone was racing somewhere, the cabbies drove wildly, and people spoke English. What a refresher that was! Finally I could speak to people well and read menus again.

Saturday was an afternoon of sightseeing. We worked all the monuments along the River Thames starting with the Tower Bridge. We followed the river past the Tower of London, over Millennium Bridge and past St. Paul’s Cathedral towards the Tate Museum and the London Eye where I participated in a street performance by riding an electric bike to provide power to the speakers for the instruments that were being played. Next, we walked right by Big Ben, the massive clock tower that is simply amazing to see up close.
Saturday night was spent pub crawling through Camden. The scene in Camden was unlike any place I’ve been before. The center of the neighborhood is situated where all these different roads intersect nonsensically, and the people were what really gave the place life. Camden is definitely where all the crazies convene; from the Goths to the hipster Londoners. It’s really too wild to describe, and is for sure a must-see on any trip to London.

The next day (Sunday) was spent meandering through all the Camden markets. All the Camden markets comprise the best flea market in the world, hands down! I spent more than four hours wandering along all the little paths that snake through this market, and I could not get enough of it. Everything is there. Some of the coolest, most unique places and pieces are in these markets. I almost ended up buying a vintage suitcase. There was this one place called Cyberdog which was like a futuristic fashion house that had gogo dancers dressed in furs and massive boots and neon clothes. The walls of the store looked like exposed circuitry and pulsing tubes of light were choreographed with the music. And there were giant robots! So crazy.
At night, I checked out the small dorms that the NYU in London students were provided. I totally appreciate where I’m living so much more now. We went out to a bar called Rocket and I ran into my NYU in Paris friend Ashley… the first “small world coincidence” moment that has been happening more than I thought it would (ohhhhh, foreshadow).

To wrap up the past Monday-Friday week, I tried macaroons for the first time. It was at this restaurant called La Durée that specializes in macaroons and they were amahhhzing! On the way back to campus, I ran into an old friend of mine that I went to high school with in Los Angeles! It was such an unbelievable moment. Here I am half way around the world in Paris, and I hear someone call my name. But, wait, there’s more. Turns out his girlfriend is studying at NYU in Paris and he happens to be studying in Paris as well through another program. Re-dic-u-lous.

City Island

Ads for the movie my sister, Erin, worked on in New York... in Paris! ...and it's in French!

Le Cab

Jan 18

Finally found the amazing “Toxic” remix from Le Crazy Horse show. Click here to listen (dim the lights for this one)

Back to business. In all the craziness that is France, I forgot to mention the façon de vivre that I have come to adopt for the duration of my European experience. “FIDLAR” (thanks Lizzy). It means “F*** It Dude, Life’s A Risk” and it has changed my life. I’d heard of it back in the states, but some things just make more sense in France. This abroad experience has allowed me to almost reinvent myself in a way. A FIDLAR way. A way in which I am constantly reminded to seize opportunities and have no regrets. Life’s a risk anyway, so why not live it up? I’ve found myself using FIDLAR as justification to try new things that I would otherwise only dare of. I’ve even turned FIDLAR into a verb. I would FIDLAR this and FIDLAR that. It’s almost addicting. Why would I ignore something that gives me so much and asks nothing in return?

Which brings me to Saturday night. I make the routine pit stop at O Philos Off, the restaurant where Damien brings me carafe after carafe of wine. What first started out as the closest place to offer free WiFi has become a second home. A perfect example of FIDLAR. Why tell the nice waiter I don’t like guys when I could just… not, and keep getting free drinks. Anyways, I have become quite accustomed to attracting members of the same sex and I know exactly how to play the game. I am a self-diagnosed Fagnet. I don’t know why it happens, and I’m not trying to sound like I think I’m hot shit, but I just keep attracting the sort of attention that I’m not down to reciprocate.

I end up having to text my roommate Troy to come and save me from the conversation about the faux amis of the English & French language that I was sucked into with a group of older gentlemen at the bar. Next stop, Lindsay’s apartment in the 1st. Oh. My. God. How a bunch of students managed to score a four bedroom, two living room, wood beam supported, gold picture framed, balconied apartment literally next door to the Louvre blows my mind. Apparently it’s on the same street that Sarkozy lives, too. Upon meeting up with the group, we all headed out to Le Cab, a club that is also next door to the Louvre. And let me tell you, there is nothing like clubbing in Paris next to the Louvre. Because when you stumble out at 5am, you stumble into THE LOUVRE! Essentially everything about this place proved to be massive amounts of fun. The architecture, the lights, the music, the people. We actually did end up staying out until 5am. It’s not very often (if ever) I do that, but there was something in the air that night, and pulsing energy was a main ingredient. We then crashed at Lindsay’s from 5am to 6am (which is when the Parisian metro opens) then headed home.

O Philos Off

January 15 2010

Whew! What an exciting past few days it’s been! I just have to start this post by saying that as I sit here writing at a café in the neighborhood of my new home, my gay waiter Damien keeps giving me free wine. I think he’s trying to get me drunk.

I love Paris.

So much has happened since I last wrote. Today, I moved into my new apartment in the 12th arrondissement. Yesterday I spent the evening drinking wine while the Eiffel Tower twinkled in the window. It’s so exciting how different the Parisian lifestyle has been in just the past week. The pace, the rhythm, the interaction, the scenery, the food, the standard of living, the values, the expectations. This is exactly what I wanted and I couldn’t be happier. When I first met my landlord and saw my new apartment, I was a little hesitant and unsure of what I was getting myself into. I think it was because everything was so different and new to me. But now that I’ve finally moved in and explored my neighborhood, I know I will be getting an authentic experience. I’m in a locals only neighborhood. Not near the monuments. Not near the tourists.

But more about my place. It’s a two room apartment; one bedroom and one living room. There’s a kitchen and a bathroom as well. We separated the beds and I’ll be living in the living room on a futon. Part couch, part bed. Versatile, like me. Check out the photos (and my roommate, Troy)! It’s also fully stocked with pots, pans, silverware and glassware. And it has a washing machine! I think that’s how I’ll make most of my friends.

And here comes another carafe of wine. Thank you, Damien.

Anyways, to catch up, I’ve been taking the metro a lot and attending a ton of orientation meetings. I’ve learned all the ways not to offend French people. Don’t eat on the subway, say bonjour to everyone (even on the elevators), and give exact change. We also went on a scavenger hunt today to explore our neighborhood. We took some totally inappropriate photos in front of the Eiffel Tower. You can fill in the blanks.

It definitely feels like I’ve been here for longer than a week, and I hope that time keeps going by slow. Reminder to self: “Never forget where you are. Soak it up.” Sorry, Doogie Howger moment. I was just thinking about last night when I couldn’t wait until it was the top of every hour so I could watch the Eiffel Tower twinkle for five minutes.

Damien just brought me a mixed drink with a glow stick in it! I can’t focus anymore. Until next time!

To the FIAP!

The past few days have been pretty fun. I finally had a chance to visit the Musée d’Orsay which I have heard so many great things about. I saw Waterlilies, Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait and a degrading table (pictured)! From there we walked along the quai past the Hôtel des Invalides to the Eiffel Tower. It’s always so amazing to see the tower up close.

After the short boat cruise along the Seine (quite informational), we tackled the Paris Metro. It’s actually not too different from the NYC Metro, except that all the stops are names of old French people. The underground stations are interesting too. Check out the design on this subway!

On Monday (Jan 11) I visited Colette, the most magnificent boutique in the world! I’d been waiting to go back ever since my first visit to Paris 5 years ago. In the afternoon I opened an HSBC account… no more ATM fees!

And, today. The first day of orientation for NYU in Paris! When I was at lunch with some of the orientation leaders in the dining hall of the FIAP, my friend Dave showed up! I didn’t know he was studying in Paris this semester, so that was nice. I also had a chance to see some other friends again. Emily, Lindsay, and a few others I’d met at the French Consulate in New York. We just had our first orientation meeting as a group and it seems like they are a ton of fun people studying in Paris this semester. I wonder which ones I’ll get to know better. I’d also really like to know where I’ll be living for the semester, but I’ll find out tomorrow.

I got my French phone today! It’s a Nokia 2630, very nice stuff.

The Crazy Horse and a Pink Pearl

Day 2:

Today began with a lot of exploration. I discovered that some McDonald’s in France serve meals on porcelain plates, and with porcelain coffee mugs! My father and I visited the Centre Georges Pompidou, a truly unique building inside and out. I need to spend more time there.

The night, however, was one never to be forgotten. It all began at Le Crazy Horse, Paris’ sexiest and most professional cabaret. Before we even entered the venue, we were greeted by a stunning caped doorman. Never in my life had I met a man with such swagger. My dad even recognized the doorman from when he came to the show over a decade ago. The Bosnian doorman has been working the doors of Le Crazy Horse every night for 25 years! When we were escorted to our table inside the intimate showroom lit by red lights, we were met by a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket! The red velvet seats and illuminated table stands accented the decadent house. When the curtains rose I was immediately mesmerized by the whole experience. The women truly defined beauty, and they moved liked ballerinas. The choreographed light show complemented every movement on stage and the soundtrack helped transport the audience to a surreal level unlike anything else.

Recommendation: This is an essential Parisian experience!

We made our way over to the bar at the Georges V hotel, the best 5-star hotel in Paris (so I’m told). We met a man named Zach who was “in the oil business” and an older lady named Vikki from Canada. They were both having wine, but I was in the mood for something new. I’d never had a martini before and a delicious concoction called the Pink Pearl caught my eye. Girly? Yes. But I knew I would never see these people again, and I wanted something that actually tasted good. You know a place is classy when you spend $75 on two martinis, and no one blinks an eye. We ended up conversing until midnight. Vikki and I are now friends on Facebook.

The Georges V is right by the Champs-Elysées so we went for a midnight stroll towards The Arc de Triomphe. I would say the Champs-Elysées is a fusion of Times Square and 5th Avenue. There’s tons of lights, sounds and designer shops. I’ve heard it’s a right of passage/good luck to walk under the Arc, so what better time than now? A bottle of champagne and a martini later, I find myself running across the 12 lane roundabout at night towards the Arc. I could swear I ran for at least 15 seconds just to get across the street. Making it across that road alive exhausted the rest of the good luck I had that night. For when I hopped the rope to run under the arch, a few policemen joined me in the ritual.

Hello Paris

Day 1:

The Los Angeles sunrise bid me farewell, and the Parisian sunrise welcomed me warmly. My father and I managed to navigate through customs and find our luggage. Then came my first real French test: Putting years of language training to use to give our cab driver accurate directions to the hotel. We would like to go to… The words effortlessly came to me, and we were on our way. That felt good. I thought maybe I just got off easy because I practiced saying the directions to myself a few times. I tested the waters a bit more to see how far I could take a conversation. It’s very cold. Is this a cold winter for France? The weather? Come on, Taylor. That’s elementary French. How many kilometers is it to Paris? Which bank has the most ATMs in Paris, BNP Paribas or HSBC? Now we’re talking. This is totally a conversation two Parisians would have.

After checking-in, we decided to grab lunch. I have this handy guide called Top 10 Paris (thanks Liz), and it has the top 10 of everything that you could find in Paris. “This bustling eatery is a favorite of the locals…” If the locals were there, then it should be a homerun. And with my language skills, this shouldn’t be a problem. In short, I was wrong. At Le Petit Vendôme the pace of speech was so fast and it felt like everyone was moving to some strange rhythm, and I just couldn’t catch the beat. Simple words slipped my mind. How do you say check please, again? What’s the customary amount to tip? I was getting nervous and began resorting to hand signals.

*Note: Le Petit Vendôme = Best baguette in Paris (seriously, the book said so).

When I had a moment to collect myself, we headed up the Avenue de l’Opera towards the Galleries Lafayette, a famed mega-mall of Paris. It is an exciting place and it happens to be sale season. Twice a year, in January and July, Paris has city-wide sales that last a few weeks at almost every retail store. I became so enamored with the experience that I impulsively bought a Diesel sweater. It was such a good deal! Until I realized that the exchange rate eats my US dollars like the fat mayor in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs eats food.

Dinner time approached and I consulted my reliable Top 10 Paris guide once again. Willi’s Wine Bar was the selection for the night. Here, I had my first encounter with Cognac and Armagnac.

Fun Fact: Cognac was discovered when shippers “burned” the wine to extract the water, so they could ship more of it (and then re-add the water after transport). The result… Wine concentrate, or, Cognac.

Tonight was supposed to be the night to start the blog. Then I met Julia, a 27 year old Eastern European stopping through between business trips. As I sat in the hotel lobby (the only place with WiFi) with two other Mexican women, Julia drunkenly stumbles in and orders “a glass of dry, full-bodied wine” from the hotel receptionist. Turning around to see us, Julia begins to pontificate on the importance of seizing every opportunity in life. “How could you sit there on your computers ignoring each other? We are people of the world in a city of love!” I liked her style. I decided to close my computer and enjoy the show. It’s not very often you meet people with such passion for life. Long story short, we’re friends on Facebook.

Goodbye America

Day 0:

I woke up early the day of Thursday, January 7, to catch my morning flight out of LAX. After a viewing of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs and a brief nap, I found myself in Dallas, Texas. The layover at DFW was pretty short, so there wasn’t much time to waste. We took a pit stop at the Duty Free store and grabbed a bottle Cazadores Resposado. Apparently tequila is something of a novelty in France… I didn’t need much convincing. I’m trying out this new thing where I try to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself to me. So far, it’s been rewarding.

The foreign experience started before I even arrive to Paris. Small things like Emergency Evacuation Instructions and neighboring conversations on the flight ease me into the new world I'm about to live in. I could have sworn the flight attendants got more and more French the closer we came to Paris. 13 hours of flight + 9 hours lost in time change = Day 0.

Bonjour à tous!

Bienvenue à Les Voyages d'un Gentilhomme. For the next five months I will be recording the adventures of my life in Europe. This is my digital scrapbook.

I will be chronicling the places I visit, the people I meet and the things I learn.