November and December were busy in a good way and filled with both good memories and piles of disappointment. As some of you already know, due to recent changes in immigration policy, Charlie was denied the work visa we so looking forward to him receiving. After much research into possible solutions, some of them extreme, we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to return to the U.S. and purchased tickets to that effect for February 17th (between bouts of tears on my part). Even if you don't know us well personally, you can probably tell from this blog that we love France and were ecstatic about the possibility of remaining here at least for another year, if not longer. But alas, what goes around comes around as far as foreign policy is concerned. But never mind all that for now. We still have several weeks of French living to accomplish.
One thing that became an integral part of our lives during these last couple of months is the foster cat that we took in when our friend encountered a similar problem with his visa and had to leave. Unfortunately, we discovered that the cat, aptly named "Sriracha", has epilepsy. Thanks to a very nice vet, we now have this under control and are in the process of placing her in a new home. Before she could be adoption-worthy, however, she had to undergo spaying and shots, all of which made for a very sad, pathetic kitty.
Post-veterinary depression
This is not funny, you guys.
When she had to wear the cone,
all she wanted to do was cuddle.
She has since returned to normal and, after wiling a few prospective adoptive parents with her charms, we have found her a new loving home with one of my friends, with whom she'll be moving in this weekend.
Sleeping in a box of hats, gloves and scarves is only logical during winter.
In other non-feline related news, at the beginning of December, Charlie's former teacher, Chef Nicolas Bernardé (MOF), opened a classy confiserie-patisserie just outside of Paris. One morning we hopped the train to go see it and were hard-pressed not to buy up the whole store. We even got a private tour of the impressive and well-equipped kitchen upstairs.
Chef schmoozes with a client.
Chocolate and confiture
Caramel... droooool...
A week later, a former co-worker and now good friend of Charlie's, Vera, came to visit us. She is a native of Holland and was visiting family so she and her sister-in-law, Joke, caught a train over to see the sites with us.
Joke and her son, Peter, listen intently to Charlie.
New and very old
Sausage oglers
Pork o'plenty
A sign nearby read, "Chocolate: A Natural Anti-Depressant."
Pretty display
Public display
We got up bright and early the next day to go to Bastille market in search of the goodies with which Chef Charlie would make us dinner that evening.
Spongebob Squarepants' homies
At the horse butcher: "I want that piece of Mr. Ed."
If you speak Mexican Spanish you will know why this is funny. Just know that €2.00 for 6 chichis is a very good price.
'Shroom heaven
Finding the perfect baguette takes a joint effort.
After the market, we went back to our apartment to eat lunch and recoup for a bit. Then we set out up the nearby hill to visit Sacre-Coeur, which in my opinion is one of the must-see sites in Paris.
Hordes
Small Christmas market at the foot of the church.
The touristy plaza nearby had this cleverly-named bookshop: "The Ape Who Reads".
Vera and Cha
Why is Charlie so excited?
Because there are chichis nearby!
Being from Holland, Vera was not at all phased by the red light district.
In need of a pick-me-up, we went into the Buffalo Grill, a decent barbecue chain with offensive cowboy and indian decor.
The Chief looks over Vera's shoulder.
Then we went back to our place so the Chef could get to work. Meanwhile, Vera and I played a competitive game of Quirkle and later, Charlie joined as we ate. Turns out that our sweet Vera becomes quite the sassy shit-talker when points are at stake.
Oysters, nom nom nom...
Flavor bliss
2nd course: Risotto
Main: Steak and beets
Time for serious color/shape coordination.
The following day, Charlie's work week resumed and I was left in charge of taking Vera and Joke around for a look at the city. We started our day with a visit to the Baccarat crystal museum. On the way there we happened upon an open street-level window leading into someone's home office. The room was completely filled with pigeons and bird shit and had us and another camera-wielding passerby completely bewildered.
It occurred to me later that perhaps the inhabitant opened the window and then died somewhere else in the house and/or had been robbed while on vacation and/or just really loved pigeons.
Anyway, we arrived at our destination shortly thereafter, located in Place des États-Unis (Plaza of the United States), complete with a statue of George Washington and located next to a tiny park called Square Thomas Jefferson.
While the "museum" collection was pretty small and not particularly riveting, the building was an experience all by itself. It was primarily a boutique for people who can afford this sort of thing and absolutely everything sparkled...
... even the stairs.
Tryin to figure out how to use the sink in the ridiculously lavish ladies room.
After the museum, we walked down to Pont de l'Alma (next to the tunnel where Princess Diana died) to check out the view and find somewhere to eat.
A Dutch discussion
During our flavorless lunch, served to us by a stereotypically rude waitress, we decided to head out to the southeast side of the city to Bercy to check out the Cour Saint-Émilion, what used to be a row of old wine warehouses. Sadly, whatever charm this place may have had in the past has been replaced by upscale boutiques with a strip mall feel. The highlight for me was the olive oil store, where we got to taste a few things, and of course, the pet store.
Bundles of joy
We were quickly finished so we went back to the Champs-Élysées for another stroll through the Christmas market. Once that was accomplished, we took the metro to the Notre Dame neighborhood for a rest and a cup of coffee.
Sun setting over the Seine
Then I dragged these poor ladies to a Mass dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe at Notre Dame Cathedral for what I thought would be an awesome Mariachi-filled evening. It had the potential for being a lovely celebration but was unfortunately dull, thanks to the usual heavy-handed ceremoniousness that is Catholicism combined with more stereotypical Parisian coldness (or perhaps boredom) on the part of the clergy. Despite the majority of the congregation being made up of Paris' Spanish speaking Latino community, the Mass was primarily in French and the mariachis were only allowed to play two songs. The rest was medieval chanting in a dark, drafty gothic cathedral, which is fine if you're into that sort of thing. We were not. It felt more like punishment than celebration.
After a decent Italian dinner in the Latin Quarter, I escorted the ladies back to their hotel and we said our goodbyes, as they would be leaving the next day.
A week later it was Christmas and of course, the chef went all out for dinner. We invited over a couple of his friends from the east coast, Stephen and Amy, who were in town for the holidays.
First, as per tradition in my family, I started the day by making sugar cookies with butter cream frosting.
Lots of cookies
Unfortunately, I didn't have cookie cutters or food coloring to make things like colorful, edible snowmen or Christmas stockings. White and round would have to do.
Now for Christmas dinner:
Curried pumpkin soup
Risotto with seared scallops, coral and fondant beards
The chef at work
Hazelnut crusted duck breast, glazed root vegetables and artichokes, and duck confit
Dessert preparation
Wine-poached pears with crème anglaise
Dialogue and digestion
Stephen had graciously brought cigars to share, so after dinner we set out for a walk up the hill to Sacre-Coeur.
When we arrived, we found the church steps littered with empty beer bottles and groups of rowdy young men from the neighborhood cheering the street performer who was singing American rock classics. In stark contrast to the exterior scene, inside the church nuns were chanting before a small congregation of worshippers. Just before we exited, I also saw a drug deal go down.
Then we popped over to the adjacent plaza for a coffee under the heat lamps that so characterize Parisian cafes in the winter.
Stephen lights, Charlie thinks.
Nudge nudge
In order to uphold Charlie's family Christmas tradition, I had made a special trip to the British Grocery to acquire Christmas crackers, colorful cardboard tubes that pop when you pull them apart and contain paper crowns, a corny joke and a small toy. Unfortunately, we totally forgot about them until after Stephen and Amy had already gone home. Instead, we opened ours just before calling Charlie's family via Skype.
We are not amused.
The following evening we had dinner with Stephen and Amy again at our favorite falafel joint in the Marais, Chez H'anna. After that we said our goodbyes, as they would be returning to the U.S. the next day.
Finally, the event of the year rolled around: I turned thirty. Last year I had resolved that I would spend my thirtieth birthday in Mexico since I haven't been there yet. This didn't work out because I'm in Paris (which is nothing to complain about), so I looked into hiring a mariachi band instead. Given that most of my friends were out of town for the holidays, it didn't seem like a good use of my financial resources to hire a band just to entertain little old me. Instead, I found an actual decent Mexican restaurant in Paris called Casa Palenque, run by a family from Mexico City. I invited my good friends (and the only ones left in the city that day), the Arrouf sisters, to join me for a meal.
Mole poblano = heaven
Cochinita Pibil = delicious pulled pork
My fave guy
Okay, bear with me, we're almost done here. So the rest of 2011 was spent in the following manner:
We visited the archeological crypt of Sacre-Coeur which was mostly just dark and empty. There was one photo-worthy display for our beloved tog queen, Tony Hutchinson.
Priestly tools
Then we went out for dinner with one of my grad school colleagues, Christine, who was back in town for a quick visit over the holidays.
Île Saint-Louis on the Seine.
I will miss this.
I tried frog's legs for the first time that night. They really do taste just like chicken.
Julien, Charlie and Christine chat over dinner.
On New Year's Eve, Charlie and I stayed in playing Quirkle, listening to music and smoking cigars. At midnight we drank fake champagne, kissed and yelled "Bonne Année!" out the window along with the other partying neighbors.
In summary, 2011 basically kicked ass. If I do things right, 2012 will too.
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