Lunchbox Packed

Today was my first day of German school. Four hours a day. Five days a week. My head hurts. I am old. I have not kept my brain oiled with Sudoku and such. Instead, I have petrified my brain with InTouch Weekly and such.

I do not understand English grammar. I do not even know how to spell grammar (thank god for spell check). How I ask, how??? am I to understand the difference between the Accusative case and the Dative case? And why, I ask why??? does every German verb have 50 different variables? Why do nouns have to be masculine, feminine and neuter? Why can't they just BE? Haven't we, as civilized humans, moved beyond that need to slot everything into a neat little category? And how can a Bikini possibly be a masculine noun while a tie "die Krawatte" is a feminine noun? Unless, that is, you refer to a tie as der Schlips and then we're right back on the masculine track. If you love me, you will send me Advil. Lots and lots of Advil.

I did the first level of the class at home via a self-study program. I had Nutella nearby in case I needed to kick-start my brain, I had warm slippers and hot tea, and the best part - nobody EVER called on me. That, my friends, has changed. Most of the people in the class took the first level together so they've already spent two months together. I am the new girl. So while they were busy chatting (in German) about their weekend, I was busy trying to cherry-pick out words that I know like "das Wochenende." Yup, I know, even a moron could figure that one out. I believe I am one step beyond Moron level. I'm not quite sure what that translates to on the Goethe Institute scale but I see an aspirin addiction in my future.

PaReeeee

In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French;

I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language.

Mark Twain

The last weekend in November we made a quick get-away to Paris. We found a flight for 32 Euro - okay after taxes/fees it was more like 78 but still... and hotels all have low-season rates. It was a no-brainer.

For some reason, I've never heard the call of Paris before. My "must see" list always seems to have less developed countries at the top. I suppose because underdeveloped places feel both more challenging and more like getting away from it all at the same time. But one of my goals before coming was to see as many places in Europe that I had not yet visited. Paris, Prague, Budapest, Tuscany were/are all at the top of my list.

We packed a lot into four days. Cathedral Notre Dame, Chateau de Versailles, the Montparnasse district, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Mouffetard District, Champs Elysees, amazing bakeries and, of course, Parisian cafes for coffee, gourmand meals and great people watching.

Our hotel was located in the St. Germain district which turned out to be an ideal location. The area is a mix of boutiques - Dior/Vuitton, unique shops, and of course cafes. One day we had a pricey cafe-au-lait and baguette at Les Deux Magots one of Hemingway's haunts just up the street from our hotel. The dichotomy between Les Deux Magots and Sloppy Joe's (Hemingway's Key West, FL hangout) made me smile. I can only assume the common denominator must have been alcohol - the great leveler of all things.

Conveniently there was a metro station one block from our hotel. We'd purchased a 5-day rail pass so we could navigate around the city easily. Which is not to say that we didn't do our fair share of walking. We walked - A LOT. One of the best things about Paris are the side streets. You can wind down narrow streets, take a few twists and turns, and stumble upon an amazing church or a dead-end courtyard complete with a fountain. It's like exploring an old house that has some new delight behind every door.

I think the highlights for me (besides just exploring with no agenda) were Versailles and the Eiffel Tower. At the risk of rendering ignorant American stereotypes true - I was completely awed by the size of the Eiffel Tower. Yes, I knew it was big. Yes, I knew it was tall. But it is massive. Even if you have nil interest in architecture you can't help but admire such genius. How?? The idea?? The construction?? How??

I think this was the same feeling that captured me at the Palace Versailles. How?? The size is staggering. The opulence overwhelming. It's all a bit surreal. I find it hard to actually get my head around the fact that this was a Home / a Lifestyle / a Society for a fortunate few. It feels like an exaggerated movie set that went overboard with gold spray paint. Decidedly on the low-brow scale, I could not help but ponder the more banal things that accompanied this life. If there was a grand ball, how did the ladies go to the loo? Did they hold it all night? Were there anonymous maid servants to hold up their skirts (it would require more than one) and assist with the clean-up? Whose loo did they use? Hardly the King or the Queen's but it is not as though there were conveniently located multi-stall toilets in the hallway. With 500 people in attendance I imagine the ladies room line must put the line at The Garden to shame. You'd miss half the night by the time you were pinned, laced and powdered. Perhaps that's the reason why such extravaganzas lasted until dawn. At least a lady could get in a dance or two even if she'd enjoyed a few too many glasses of champagne.

At the time of our visit, Versailles was hosting an exhibition of sculptor/artist Jeff Koons. According to the Chateau de Versailles official website, "Contemporary artistic creation makes possible a different perception of this living monument and its ever changing reality which is no way a fossilized model of a particular period." According to Thomas, "it was distracting." Granted a 300+ year-old palace is not the usual context one would expect to see a sculpture titled "Michael Jackson and Bubbles," but I felt that juxtaposing these somewhat "kitsch" creations against the backdrop of such classic architecture made it more impactful. Thomas - not so much. We spent most of the train ride home discussing it passionately. I argued that this was the longest Thomas had ever considered/discussed art in his entire life which in my opinion made the installation a success. Thomas argued that that the Guggenheim had called and wanted its livelihood back. I think it was the vacuums that really pushed him over the edge...


Food of course was an adventure. We had a great Fondue in Mouffetard, several really good meals in cafes near our hotel, and more street crepes than required. Oh yes, and how could I forget this highlight - they serve Nutella on crepes! Clearly the culinary distinction of France is well-deserved.

Because food is so much a part of the Paris experience, we found ourselves paralyzed a few times. After having a wonderful Parisian breakfast at a cafe we serendipitously found, we were determined to duplicate the experience the next morning. We walked around the artsy district of Montparnasse (of which Jean Cocteau once said "poverty is a luxury in Montparnasse") for over an hour without finding a place that we thought "looked good." A bit on the rough and tumble/touristy side, Montparnasse hosts sex-shops side by side with funky artisan boutiques. But we just didn't get the right food vibe. So instead of breakfast we ended up going without food until after lunch when we finally succumbed in Mouffetard with an "it's either this place or that place" approach. Hunger had obliterated the need for memorable.

And is Paris truly for lovers? Judging by the meal we ate sandwiched between two young lovebirds who followed EVERY bite with kisses and baby talk (understandable and annoying even in lovely French) and an older couple who graciously limited their public display of the kiss for which France is renowned to the lull between courses, I'd have to say yes. What does it say about us that we were more interested in sopping up every last drop of savory sauce with crusty bread than gazing lovingly into each others eyes and stealing kisses? I can't decide who said it better George Bernard Shaw, "there is no love sincerer than the love of food," or Rodney Dangerfield, "I'm at an age where food has taken the place of sex in my life. In fact, I just had a mirror put over my kitchen table." Bring on le dessert, s'il vous plait.

Step Away From the Nutella

One of my goals before I arrived was to get back in shape. The three months living in temporary housing prior to our departure meant living with the bare necessities, lots of dining out and a few extra pounds that found their way into my saddlebags not my check-in bags.

I was doing okay. Alternating yoga with walking around the lake by our place. Lots of salads and whole grains. And then IT happened. Our home was invaded by a jar of Nutella. Bought with the good intentions of treating a guest to her favorite breakfast spread, the sweet hazelnut concoction quickly became a bad nightmare. Now, I've never been one to harbor a chocolate addiction and I've had Nutella on several past occasions without incurring disastrous results but there was something different about this jar. This jar talked!

Every single time I went into the kitchen it would start in on me. "Alexia, why are you ignoring me? I miss you. I won't hurt you - I promise. If you skip the bread it's really not that many calories. Just one spoonful. A small spoonful. Pleeeeez?" I was defenseless against this thing. I've had a spoon dangling out of my mouth ever since.

Anyway, you know how when you make fun of someone mercilessly it always comes back to bite you in the butt? Well, my friend KMOH is an incredibly talented creative person, a small business entrepreneur and, despite the fact that she favors wearing house slippers to NY photo shoots during blizzard weather, I have a great deal of respect for her. Until the day she pulled out the pedometer.

Looking to get rid of a few extra pounds, she'd committed to walking 10,000 steps everyday. All well and good. But when every trip to the bathroom was followed with a step count "28 there and 30 back. I think the extra two steps were to the sink," it wasn't long before we were mocking her endlessly. "I need to get a refill on my coffee. If I take two giant steps and three baby steps does that count as 7 regular steps?" Or, "If I sprain my ankle and I'm on crutches, do I get to count three steps for every one?" You get the idea.

Well, guess who bought a pedometer? Yup. But in fairness to me, the last time I saw KMOH she looked awesome so I figured maybe there was something to it. Sign me up for the 10,000 step program. And may God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change - especially if it's my waistline. I finally sat down to program the pedometer and all was going well. You have to put in your height, weight, age, etc. All standard, no surprises. Then I got to the body fat analyzer. You have to hold your thumbs at contact points on the pedometer and then it assigns an icon to your profile.

There are five icons ranging from a stick figure up to a big round blob. I'm thinking I'm going to hit icon 3 which is metz a metz. Ummm no. Up pops the little fatso icon. I'm thinking are you kidding me? It's not that bad. Is it?? Curses on Nutella and all gooey sugar substances everywhere. Oh, and while I'm at it, those warm Bavarian pretzels too.

I quickly scan the directions again. It says to get better results I should lick my thumb pads before making contact with the analyzer. I stick both thumbs in my mouth entirely and quickly go to the loo because it never hurts to get rid of a little water weight. Back from the bathroom (12 steps in case you were wondering) and now with fully wet hands, I throw back my shoulders, hold my breath and try again. No luck. I am icon five. I am Beachball Pinhead.

Beachball Pinhead at Lake - note Oktoberfest Beer

I am so depressed. The only thing that can possibly make me feel better is... Wait did you hear that? There it is again. Louder this time. Can you not hear that??

As soon as I get the spoon out of my mouth, I'll go for a lap around the lake. Okay, okay four laps. That's 9,865 steps in case you were wondering.