So tomorrow/today (Friday) I am going to feed the homeless at the American Cathedral. I've always enjoyed homeless people...they are generally more interesting than homed people. But I will say that the Romanian gypsy variety that frequents the Champs-Elysees and follows me around asking "do you speak English" (which in turn forces me to speak in French) are annoying as hell.
Anyway, if no other options present themselves you can probably find me with said new friends, lighter fluid and some twirling batons outside the Pompidou center. No lie. Roll Tide.
6.3.09
yada yada
Evidently there are those who disagree with my stance on "Le Vide."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/mar/01/art-france
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/mar/01/art-france
3.3.09
L'Ambassade d'Auvergne
Just one of our desserts. I haven't been this disgustingly full after a meal in a long time.
Images from sleepy, beautiful St. Emilion
After the jumping event (Feb. 5-9) I went to St. Emilion, a little vineyard town about 30 minutes from central Bordeaux. It was just beautiful, although rainy and mostly closed due to the fact that it's not tourist season.
Would love to go back. The wines are to die for. And everyone I met was genuinely helpful. The tourist office set me up with a free, personal tour of the town...and even drove me around in their own cars...I'm a "journalist," you know. The guest house where I stayed went out of their way to pick me up and drop me off at the train stations. Not part of their job...very nice.
The town of St. Emilion was recently named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is made entirely of limestone quarried from underneath the village. Catacombs span the entire town...there is even an underground church. The other use for underground caves is....you guessed it...wine cellars. Perfect damp conditions whose temperatures don't vary much throughout the year. The town was named after a monk named Emilion who lived underground here for years and performed miracles. He was most famous for making young women fertile. They asked me if I wanted to sit on the fertility rock to which I gracefully declined.
Would love to go back. The wines are to die for. And everyone I met was genuinely helpful. The tourist office set me up with a free, personal tour of the town...and even drove me around in their own cars...I'm a "journalist," you know. The guest house where I stayed went out of their way to pick me up and drop me off at the train stations. Not part of their job...very nice.
The town of St. Emilion was recently named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is made entirely of limestone quarried from underneath the village. Catacombs span the entire town...there is even an underground church. The other use for underground caves is....you guessed it...wine cellars. Perfect damp conditions whose temperatures don't vary much throughout the year. The town was named after a monk named Emilion who lived underground here for years and performed miracles. He was most famous for making young women fertile. They asked me if I wanted to sit on the fertility rock to which I gracefully declined.
Seriously the most beautiful horse.
And another good-looking equestrian, Tina Lund of Denmark. Google her if you want more "fun" pictures. Let's just say she's already been discovered.
Pictures from Rolex FEI World Cup Bordeaux (and more proof that equestrians have good taste and are beautiful)
The grey horse is the 2M champion horse of Belgium's (beautiful...this isn't even a good picture of her) Judy Ann Melchior.
UGHHH. I just googled her and she is YOUNGER than me (born 1986) is 5'6 and weighs 117 pounds. Now I really hate her!
more museums
Sorry. I started the previous post off talking about merde and baiser and never got to tell you about the actual merde I saw on Sunday. Thankfully it wasn't real merde Check it out...
and speaking of merde, just fyi, the nicer, cuter word would be "caca." Like poopoo versus shit.
Just for fun, this is an online game that my boss' kids used to play. Just pick out the food you want to eat, put it in the boxes...and see what happens. I promise the fact that you can't read French won't hinder the fun you'll have. Good ole mind-numbing fun. The music is a doozy as well.
See it here.
So, the Pompidou Center. The fourth floor is quite modern. Some of the large paintings were nice. But THEN there were eight rooms...8...with nothing in them. This was part of an exhibition, I kid you not, called "Void." Eight different artists, each with their own room. Outside of each room was a BS explanation for what we/I should gather from this nothingness.
I mean I'm lazy, but even in college I wouldn't have had the balls to turn in a paper meant to discuss let's say "The Meaning of Life" with 8 pages of blank paper. WTF. I mean, I would just not turn the paper in. Or turn it in a semester late with an excuse blaming depression or "getting my life together," etc. But I wouldn't say "oh yes, here's my paper which I feel, as a good writer, is worthy of an A+," which is essentially what these artists are doing. And to give some of these artists a fair chance, the museum had some of their other works in other areas. It too, though not white, was merde. Give me a break about how all this white means virginity and purity and how I should contemplate it.
Outside the merde, however, there were some cool displays on the fifth floor. Namely some Matisse (from the Fauvism era) and Kupka (one of my new faves), Delaunay and Roualt. A part of the top floor was devoted to Madame Pompidou, the former President's wife who founded the museum. Some of her favorite artists were on display. My favorites of her favorites are below.
Lastly, there was an Asger Jorn exhibit that was nice. I started taking pictures but then got in trouble by the security guard. Embarrassed, I left...sans pictures.
and speaking of merde, just fyi, the nicer, cuter word would be "caca." Like poopoo versus shit.
Just for fun, this is an online game that my boss' kids used to play. Just pick out the food you want to eat, put it in the boxes...and see what happens. I promise the fact that you can't read French won't hinder the fun you'll have. Good ole mind-numbing fun. The music is a doozy as well.
See it here.
So, the Pompidou Center. The fourth floor is quite modern. Some of the large paintings were nice. But THEN there were eight rooms...8...with nothing in them. This was part of an exhibition, I kid you not, called "Void." Eight different artists, each with their own room. Outside of each room was a BS explanation for what we/I should gather from this nothingness.
I mean I'm lazy, but even in college I wouldn't have had the balls to turn in a paper meant to discuss let's say "The Meaning of Life" with 8 pages of blank paper. WTF. I mean, I would just not turn the paper in. Or turn it in a semester late with an excuse blaming depression or "getting my life together," etc. But I wouldn't say "oh yes, here's my paper which I feel, as a good writer, is worthy of an A+," which is essentially what these artists are doing. And to give some of these artists a fair chance, the museum had some of their other works in other areas. It too, though not white, was merde. Give me a break about how all this white means virginity and purity and how I should contemplate it.
Outside the merde, however, there were some cool displays on the fifth floor. Namely some Matisse (from the Fauvism era) and Kupka (one of my new faves), Delaunay and Roualt. A part of the top floor was devoted to Madame Pompidou, the former President's wife who founded the museum. Some of her favorite artists were on display. My favorites of her favorites are below.
Lastly, there was an Asger Jorn exhibit that was nice. I started taking pictures but then got in trouble by the security guard. Embarrassed, I left...sans pictures.
Rodin
Which translates to French shit.
Now, this week is my Museum week. And seeing as most museés in Paris are free on the first Sunday of the month, I was on that. The FABULOUS Rodin Museum was my first stop. I found it on Sunday morning while attempting to find the American Church of Paris. I guess it was a sign from God because I walked past the Rodin Museum about 4 times, but never the American Church. After browsing through all the listings of museums and exhibitions in Pariscope (the weekly 'what's on' magazine) I had actually decided this museum was one I didn't want to see.
And I'm so glad I found it. For those of you who don't know, Rodin sculpted The Thinker
among thousands of other sculptures. The museum is informative without being overloaded or stuffy. It used to be a hotel for artists and is therefore surrounded by really nice gardens. It was a très bien way to pass a pretty morning. Perfect for a picnic, reading, etc.
Something I learned about Rodin that probably contributed to my affinity for his work is that he failed many, many times before he succeeded...and many, many times after he had earned critical acclaim. He was denied acceptance by the Fine Arts school (Ecole des Beaux Arts) of Paris three times and when he wanted to become a priest, he was denied that as well.
Another great point about this museum was the room devoted to Rodin's student, Camille Claudel. I like her work as much as his.
Oh, and one more thing I like about Rodin. He gives his works totally straight-forward names. Here you have The Kiss,The Thinker, and Girl with a Flower Hat. The title of The Kiss in French is Le Baiser. Don't forget the "le." In French, the verb baiser is a very vulgar word for "sex" that starts with an F. But put "le" in front of it and it means "kiss." The French would get these two confused.
How to earn money on the mean streets of Paris
Exhibit A is a lady I presume to be middle-aged who is dressed as a sheep (I think?) and dancing to bizarre music. She has no talent, which is probably one of the reasons she's wearing a mask. She picked a good location though...Pont Neuf at midday. Don't know if she made any money or was just gawked at...but it did give me ideas.
Second picture is of a fire twirler behind the Pompidou center...who I made friends with. Here's how it went down...
My English friend Carly calls me around dinner time and says "Hey I'm broke so I'm going to do a fire show. I need to go to a supermarket and buy some lighter fluid. Want to come?"
I would think this a strange idea, but coming from Carly it seemed normal. It would be like if Allie said "hey let's go hang out with homeless people and prophesize."
And considering the fact that I had nothing ELSE to do on a Friday night in Paris I said "sure let's do it."
Unfortunately we never found the lighter fluid. But we still had a fire show. Because our new friend pictured below had lighter fluid. And beer. Me and the Gothic French and Italian kids actually had a ball. We made no money. The night ended with an after-party at my good friend Louis' apartment in the Marais.
Second picture is of a fire twirler behind the Pompidou center...who I made friends with. Here's how it went down...
My English friend Carly calls me around dinner time and says "Hey I'm broke so I'm going to do a fire show. I need to go to a supermarket and buy some lighter fluid. Want to come?"
I would think this a strange idea, but coming from Carly it seemed normal. It would be like if Allie said "hey let's go hang out with homeless people and prophesize."
And considering the fact that I had nothing ELSE to do on a Friday night in Paris I said "sure let's do it."
Unfortunately we never found the lighter fluid. But we still had a fire show. Because our new friend pictured below had lighter fluid. And beer. Me and the Gothic French and Italian kids actually had a ball. We made no money. The night ended with an after-party at my good friend Louis' apartment in the Marais.
24.2.09
Things I'm giving up for Lent/ Shout out to New Orleans!
Since I didn't make a New Year's Resolution (I'm becoming a cynical Frenchie) I feel it rather important that I make a legit Lent resolution. Something difficult to prepare me for Easter, you know. I don't know if the French know what Lent is (damn secular culture) and they sure don't know how to celebrate Mardi Gras (wouldn't want to be like "kitsch Americans")...but I'm going to do it anyway.
I would give up chocolate, except I joined the Club Med today. And I have limited funds to buy food. So it can't be diet related. I'm already on that.
And I'm just not going to give up caffeine because that's silly. No one wants to see me in a coma-like state. And it would be too easy since I only drink 1-2 teas a day. Every once and awhile I throw a coffee or Diet Coke in there. And I would be losing out on potentially life-saving antioxidants. So this popular idea loses with me.
Plus, giving up "unhealthy" food groups and forcing yourself to look good in a swimsuit just in time for beach weather all seem a little selfish...a little superficial, don't you think? Kinda loses the reason for the season.
So I'm going to do something more meaningful and more difficult. Something that requires a little more energy. Something for my emotional well-being.
I am giving up French men. I quit you. As of tomorrow matin.
So there.
When Lent begins I will start my search for the ideal Irish, British or American man. Or I will go find Christian Ahlmann.
By the time Lent is over I will be safely home in Alabama, free of the drama and endless BISOUS of French men. This, my friends, is exciting.
I would give up chocolate, except I joined the Club Med today. And I have limited funds to buy food. So it can't be diet related. I'm already on that.
And I'm just not going to give up caffeine because that's silly. No one wants to see me in a coma-like state. And it would be too easy since I only drink 1-2 teas a day. Every once and awhile I throw a coffee or Diet Coke in there. And I would be losing out on potentially life-saving antioxidants. So this popular idea loses with me.
Plus, giving up "unhealthy" food groups and forcing yourself to look good in a swimsuit just in time for beach weather all seem a little selfish...a little superficial, don't you think? Kinda loses the reason for the season.
So I'm going to do something more meaningful and more difficult. Something that requires a little more energy. Something for my emotional well-being.
I am giving up French men. I quit you. As of tomorrow matin.
So there.
When Lent begins I will start my search for the ideal Irish, British or American man. Or I will go find Christian Ahlmann.
By the time Lent is over I will be safely home in Alabama, free of the drama and endless BISOUS of French men. This, my friends, is exciting.
8.2.09
People who ride horses are the prettiest people in the world
Exhibit A:
This is my sweet future boyfriend Christian Ahlmann. I don't know if the attraction lies more in the fact that he looks plucked straight from the DKE or KA house, his Olympian horse-riding abilities or his bad-boy appeal (he got caught for doping his horse after the Equestrian Olympic Games in Hong Kong). I have basically decided that he and his high, horse-riding buttocks are meant for me. And my colleagues who know him agree. As my previous post notes, I'm not down with all the lovey-dovey bisoussssssss the Frenchmen are blowing my way; seeing a burly German drink pints of beer hits closer to home...in a good way.
You know, I just can't bring a dude who owns a hair dryer to Gallette's. But this guy, yes. And I have it on good word that he likes American women. Basically, I'm in like flin.
More to come concerning the looks of equestrians. I must go watch Christian jump to glory on his 10 year old gelding, Sebastian. A tout!
This is my sweet future boyfriend Christian Ahlmann. I don't know if the attraction lies more in the fact that he looks plucked straight from the DKE or KA house, his Olympian horse-riding abilities or his bad-boy appeal (he got caught for doping his horse after the Equestrian Olympic Games in Hong Kong). I have basically decided that he and his high, horse-riding buttocks are meant for me. And my colleagues who know him agree. As my previous post notes, I'm not down with all the lovey-dovey bisoussssssss the Frenchmen are blowing my way; seeing a burly German drink pints of beer hits closer to home...in a good way.
You know, I just can't bring a dude who owns a hair dryer to Gallette's. But this guy, yes. And I have it on good word that he likes American women. Basically, I'm in like flin.
More to come concerning the looks of equestrians. I must go watch Christian jump to glory on his 10 year old gelding, Sebastian. A tout!
13.1.09
Since our last meeting, the following has happened:
1. I went home for Thanksgiving and the SEC Championship. Hung out with Taylor Hicks, met my new cousin Daniel, had lunch with my SSS at Bottega, had impromptu spend-the-night parties with Allison, Allie, KT, Molly and Mom (all pretty routine), had culture shock over how big and commercial the US can be, etc. I felt like I had never left although I had been gone 7ish months.
2. I went to Prague for Christmas where I learned to like grog (rum and hot water) and stayed with Caroline's Czech family. Prague is beautiful. Unfortunately I forgot my camera and am now waiting for a friend I met there to send me his pictures. As you can see, that is going well...
3. Paris for New Years (where I insisted everyone listen to Alabama while I tried to TEACH square dancing). Also was pretty adamant that all the multicultural guests at aforementioned party listen to the lyrics of "The Night They Drove Ole Dixie Down." The musical selections went well with the foie gras and champagne, I'm just sure of it.
4. I got sick of French men saying "bisoussssssss" at the beginning, middle and end of every conversation. Almost makes me miss emotionally-absent males! I think I will find the happy medium in Ireland. For the non-Francophiles among us, bisous means kisses. And it's just hard to take someone seriously who is saying this all the time...and who "misses" you after one date. Maybe I'm just that awesome. The book "Talk to the Snail" by Stephen Clark that Caroline so kindly and thoughtfully gave me for Christmas has shed much light on French culture and men. I will have some quotes later.
5. I have not had seasonal depression. I realize that winter is not nearly over, but considering that it has been much too cold for my taste basically since the day I arrived (Sept. 5th), this is an accomplishment. There are a couple plausible reasons for this...one being no exams or anything due around December, another being that I'm not in Tuscaloosa, another being that snow has been very much involved...not just dreary, blustery winds...and lastly...fluexotine.
6. I have secured an apartment for the last leg of my journey. In the 1st arrondissement beside the Louvre. I could not be more excited to be a faux-Parisian for a month and a half. Allison will be bringing some Tuscaloosa to my life for nine days, which will be just fabulous. I hope we make it out alive and don't pull any stunts reminiscent of Freshman year at the Blount dorms. After this I will be returning home at the end of March for Molly's wedding festivities which I am seriously pumped about.
7. And my new year's resolution (well, one of them that I wrote on a post-it note 3 days ago) is to blog once a week. Maybe even more.
2. I went to Prague for Christmas where I learned to like grog (rum and hot water) and stayed with Caroline's Czech family. Prague is beautiful. Unfortunately I forgot my camera and am now waiting for a friend I met there to send me his pictures. As you can see, that is going well...
3. Paris for New Years (where I insisted everyone listen to Alabama while I tried to TEACH square dancing). Also was pretty adamant that all the multicultural guests at aforementioned party listen to the lyrics of "The Night They Drove Ole Dixie Down." The musical selections went well with the foie gras and champagne, I'm just sure of it.
4. I got sick of French men saying "bisoussssssss" at the beginning, middle and end of every conversation. Almost makes me miss emotionally-absent males! I think I will find the happy medium in Ireland. For the non-Francophiles among us, bisous means kisses. And it's just hard to take someone seriously who is saying this all the time...and who "misses" you after one date. Maybe I'm just that awesome. The book "Talk to the Snail" by Stephen Clark that Caroline so kindly and thoughtfully gave me for Christmas has shed much light on French culture and men. I will have some quotes later.
5. I have not had seasonal depression. I realize that winter is not nearly over, but considering that it has been much too cold for my taste basically since the day I arrived (Sept. 5th), this is an accomplishment. There are a couple plausible reasons for this...one being no exams or anything due around December, another being that I'm not in Tuscaloosa, another being that snow has been very much involved...not just dreary, blustery winds...and lastly...fluexotine.
6. I have secured an apartment for the last leg of my journey. In the 1st arrondissement beside the Louvre. I could not be more excited to be a faux-Parisian for a month and a half. Allison will be bringing some Tuscaloosa to my life for nine days, which will be just fabulous. I hope we make it out alive and don't pull any stunts reminiscent of Freshman year at the Blount dorms. After this I will be returning home at the end of March for Molly's wedding festivities which I am seriously pumped about.
7. And my new year's resolution (well, one of them that I wrote on a post-it note 3 days ago) is to blog once a week. Maybe even more.
11.12.08
23.11.08
un autre repas
Yesterday I learned that you can't substitute slivered almonds for walnuts when you are sauteeing. When slivered almonds burn it smells like burnt popcorn.
Today I learned that everyone loves my salads and my basmati rice. This was my first time to cook rice.
I'm basically ready for my debut as a suburban housewife.
Today I learned that everyone loves my salads and my basmati rice. This was my first time to cook rice.
I'm basically ready for my debut as a suburban housewife.
20.11.08
the next Frank Stitt?
Just wanted my lovely readers to know that last night we had 10 people over for Arthur's birthday. It was more of a "fancy" dinner...candles lit, the real silver, etc.
What did we eat in this culinary capital of the world?
Chicken pate d'Alabama and mom's salad with clementines and almonds.
What did we eat in this culinary capital of the world?
Chicken pate d'Alabama and mom's salad with clementines and almonds.
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