Of metros, museums, meals and ‘mericans.

I honestly don’t know what I’ll do with myself tomorrow! Today was a fantastic day, even if I think I am getting a blister on my little toe (I knew I should’ve brought moleskin!)

In order to avoid what Tami called my “clinical descriptions,” you get 4 small things instead.

Metro: I had the coolest metro ride. In Tunisia, the buses sometimes got sardined - so full that everyone was crammed together and when the doors opened, people literally fell out. It was stinky, suffocating, and not fun. Yesterday and today the metro was sometimes sardined, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. For one thing, the deodorant here works very well, and people like to wear a small amount of cologne/perfume. I waited on a rather full metro platform, wondering if we’d all fit in an empty train, when the train pulled up. Rather full. A few people got out, and then the mass moved forward, everyone jostling their way aboard. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work, but when in Rome… I stepped on with my bag safely in front of me. There was no way to hold on to a pole, but I soon realized it didn’t matter. We were packed in so tight that we all swayed when the train started up, but no one fell. The weight of body against body against body was funny, you could feel everyone, but it wasn’t a big deal, especially with everyone staring dutifully into nothingness (that’s what they all do here.) When it stopped, the same sort of group sway. Then to let people off, some people stepped out the doors, and a new set crowded on. It was a bit warm, so someone opened a small tilt-out window, designed for that exact purpose, I’m sure, and we all stayed a reasonable temperature. At my stop, I pushed my way out to the platform and continued the journey.

Museum: (Actually written while I was there this afternoon.) Museums are interesting places. Loads of old stuff, not all of it necessarily what catches my attentions. But the things that are cool are pretty damn amazing. Not everyone seems to notice, though. Take the room with Gaugin and VanGogh paintings, for example. Van Gogh’s ‘Portrait of the artist’ (google it, I’m sure you’ve seen it) hangs visible from the entrance. A small, lonely painting on the back wall, crowded by people taking pictures. Some of the people come in just for that, and leave without a glance at the others in the room.

To me, some things here are just paintings, or just sculptures. Nothing particularly fascinating, and some even make me wonder what else the museum has in the collection that isn’t being displayed so that THAT one can have a spot on the wall. Others, though, just draw you in. The pastels, for instance. If someone had told me to be sure to look at the pastels, I would have called them crazy. But wow. I tried to take a few pictures, but it was annoyingly off, no matter what I tried. [I also looked in the gift shop - they had a couple of postcards that were no better than my pictures.] No way to catch the glow. If I had just seen one somewhere I would have thought it was lit from behind. The colors seriously jump out. And it works, not cheezy at all. Two night scenes - a park and a forest with dark greens and blues - that looked magically lit, like the lanterns hanging in the branches of the trees would flicker at any moment, or clouds might momentarily shroud the moon and turn everything back to normal.

Meals - I had dinner at a great restaurant. It is a smallish place. The main floor is cozy, but there is seating upstairs and in the basement, too. I don’t normally like to eat in restaurants alone, but why not? It was a REALLY French place, not far from where I’m staying. The kind of place that serves escargot for 8 euro and doesn’t think anything of it (a decent price for an appetizer here.) The kind of place that, when you order a bottle of wine, pours just a sip for a man at the table to approve before setting it down for everyone. The kind of place that expects your meal will end with dessert or cheese, or at least a coffee. There was an American couple not too far away, but he has obviously been in Paris a while, or at least has before. Everyone else was French.

I was bold (for me) and went for the fondu - bread, potatoes, and cured ham to be dipped into a rich melty cheese. With a small salad on the side. Mmmmmmm……. I sort of wanted to go to Melting Pot before, but I’m fairly certain it would be lame now. For dessert, there were several options that sounded interesting. Like Crème brulee with Nutella (where and how does the Nutella go in??} But I went for the “house specialty”: Mi-cuit au choco noir. Half-cooked with dark chocolate. Half-cooked what? I wasn’t sure. But I definitely need it. I was almost still hungry when the small chocolate cake, topped with powdered sugar and swimming in a pool of crème anglaise [sweetened, vanilla-flavored cream, sort of like a really high-quality vanilla ice cream, melted, but better] arrived. After about two bites, I was definitely full. It was fully cooked outside and so I sort of expected the middle to spill out when I cut into it with my spoon. It didn’t - it just looked like a barely cooked brownie. But tasted SO much better. Intense chocolate flavor, and so rich that I realized the cream was to tone it down - yes, cream actually was less rich.

My other meal was the morning. I picked up a pain aux raisins [flaky pastry, sort of the same as a croissant, but in a large, flat spiral, like a flat, big cinnamon roll, filled with soft raisins and sweet custard where a cinnamon roll has the sugar and cinnamon] at a bakery near here. I took it with me onto the metro, enjoying eating in public but not at a restaurant - something that is NOT done in the morning, and rarely done away from a crepe stand or away from a guy selling roasted chestnuts.

‘Mericans - I went down to the Eiffel tower - mostly because I knew it would be a fun, festive atmosphere and I wasn’t sure what else I wanted to do, my trip being complete after the museum. I walked around a bit, and sat down after a while. Then a guy sat down next to me, but not TOO close. I still didn’t like the look of him. Then after a bit he was all, “excuse me, do you have a cigarette?” (in French, all of this) and I said, “no, sorry,” and him, “oh, you don’t smoke,” and this is where I got very suspicious of his motives and simply said, “no,” not even turning to look at him. Then he asked, “I’m not bothering you am I?” and he actually hadn’t DONE anything, so I just shook my head, and continued watching people walking under the tower for a couple of minutes before getting up and walking away. I wanted to check my map, but not in an area where I’d be alone. I saw four people, sitting on the ground directly in front of the tower, a hundred yards or so away, and drinking. Americans. I stood not too far away and got out my map, deciding where to go next. They said bye to some people who had been standing in front of them, I guess they had been talking, and then after the people had walked away, one asked another, “how do you say good night? Bonne nuit?” I sort of laughed and told them that’s just if someone’s going to bed. They asked what they should really say, and if I was from Paris, and we talked for a bit. Turns out they are friends from college, one graduated already, the other three were still there, spending their winter break touring Europe because one is studying in Florence. They were silly, but really friendly. They wanted to know where to buy liquor, how to tell people to go away, and asked if I wanted to come out dancing. I told them no, because I’d have to get back by myself. Plus, they seemed a bit… careless, and not really a group I’d want to go out with. Two guys drinking a box of wine [it comes in juice boxes here sometimes, but theirs was a soymilk-sized box], I’m pretty sure arab by the names and accents, came up and started talking to them. At first, I thought it was gonna be bad, but they were actually nice, and when the souvenir sellers came by (like they do every 5 min near there) they joked around with the guys and got rid of them easily. The guys’ English wasn’t too great and when they were getting the girls’ names, one of the girls offered mine, adding that I spoke French. In true Arab/French speaker fashion, they totally didn’t get it, “Paqy??” I knew they weren’t gonna do better, so I went with it. A bit later “Paqy, tell me what she does in life, I don’t understand,” I got the info from the girl, (a performance art sculptor - what the heck is that??) knowing she’s a student, and said, “she’s a sculptor, but she doesn’t just make things to be looked at, part of her art is having people watch her make it.” He looked at me rather confused. Me again, “actually, I’m not totally sure what she means, either, but she’s some kind of scupltor.” He was ok with that.