Comme d'habitude, Boris!

I would like to start this post with an apology to everyone for my previous stubbornness. This summer, my politeness won the battle against my taste buds and I've eaten things I always refused at home; I discovered that there isn't much that I don't enjoy once I give it a chance. Stephanie, pineapples are delicious, even on pizza. Dad, you can make stir fry as often as you want. Mom, I think I'll try your orange jello now. Liz, you don't have to be the only one eating tomatoes with my dad anymore.

If there is one upside to America's failure to follow the metric system, it's that I don't have to know how much weight I'm gaining. After the first couple days with my host family, I realized I would most definitely be putting on the kilos this summer. Every single meal I have eaten with them has been spectacular to say the least. I imagine it has something to do with their cookbook shelf looking like this:

Yes, every single one of those is a cookbook. Sometimes during naptime, I look through and try to find something delicious that I could actually succeed at making. So far, I've got it narrowed down to the 101 recipes in this book:

But realistically, I don't even want to think about Nutella for a couple months now. 

Every morning I wake up to find that fresh baked baguettes, brioche, croissants, and pain au chocolat from the bakery around the corner have magically appeared on the table with a pot of tea. For lunch, I usually cook for Clara and the boys. My naptime research has steadily improved my skills; I even made chicken cordon bleu the other day! But I still happily turn over the kitchen whenever it's possible for Caroline or Pascal to whip up something great. Their idea of a simple midday meal is smoked chorizo in a cheesy pasta dish.

After Clara's nap, we usually head out to the beach or for a walk within the walls, meaning we always end up at the crêperie by dinner time. It's the best rated crêperie in the city, and for good reason - it's one of the only ones to still make their crêpes fresh to order, rather than having a stack ready to dress with toppings. The best meals at Crêperie Margaux are the galettes, a local specialty. For the first couple visits, I tried to order something new every time. But eventually it was clear that I had a favorite: le complet. It consists of ham, that I watch her slice fresh in the home every morning, three delicious cheeses, and an egg to top it off. If I am feeling more adventurous, I simply and an e to it's name and get tomatoes as well. It is a mouthwatering combination nestled in the crunchy, salty version of a crêpe. 

I don't think anything you order here actually fits on a plate. But there's still always room for a dessert crêpe. I still haven't settled on a favorite, since it's possible to request any combination of fruits, sauces, and ice creams. The caramel in Bretagne is famous, so I highly recommend the butter caramel crêpe with vanilla ice cream; but even the crêpe au sucre (just sugar) will send you home happy. 

Since it's a small restaurant, there are only a few employees that aren't family. The sous chef is Boris, a college kid who comes back to work every summer. Since he likes to take me sightseeing around the neighboring cities on his days off, the family calls him my "French lover chef." When I walk in to the restaurant, I head for the kitchen to greet Caroline and Boris with les bisous (I'm still surprised by how normal it feels to kiss everyone you meet). After dropping off the stroller and beach bag, Clara always wants to visit the neighboring restaurants since she's stolen the hearts of every chef in the area. Eventually we make it back and sit down at the table in the kitchen. Immediately, Boris brings me un complèt I didn't even need to ask for, every time saying "comme d'habitude mademoiselle Katelyn."

The galettes are a lot more difficult to make so I usually let the professionals handle those, but I've really enjoyed learning all the techniques for making my own crêpes. I have the secret recipes for both, so maybe someday I'll open a crêperie in the States. 

Most days, Caroline can't get home until 11 at night, so they have a family midnight snack in lieu of a family dinner. It generally consists of wine or champagne and a homemade dessert. 

One night when I was scooping the ice cream, I had a revelation. They don't have two kinds of vanilla ice cream here. They only have "vanilla." Well guess what, it's actually the equivalent of our "French vanilla." I don't know why it surprised me so much, but the fact that something named after the French is actually just normal to them was really amusing to me. That was a hard one to explain to the family.

Even if my French skills had not improved this summer (which they most definitely have), I would be more than happy with the improvement in my cooking skills. Actually, I think this trip has conditioned me like a Pavlov dog to salivate every time I think about Saint Malo. 

Let's have a picnic! Pt. 2

The second half of my week in Paris was very different from the first, but it was still of course wonderful. Moving to my third hostel, I found myself in the outskirts of Paris, in the 15th arrondissement. If you look at a map of the metro system, it's pretty clear there are stops on practically every corner of the city. There is, however, one noticeable gap where no lines seem to go. My new hostel was located right in the center of this Bermuda Triangle where Parisians are lost. It took almost 30 minutes to walk to from the nearest station. Luckily, the atmosphere of the hostel was very friendly and it wasn't long before I met people that made it worth the trek.

When I checked into my room, there was only one person already occupying a bed - Lachlan. He was from Australia, but he hasn't actually lived in one place for the last 3 years. He's a chronic traveler and climber, so it was amazing and inspiring to hear some of his experiences. We bonded pretty quickly as we realized we liked a lot of the same things, so it didn't take long before we actually felt like great friends. It was his fourth time in Paris and I had been there for 2 weeks, so we agreed to NOT go to the Eiffel Tower that night. Instead, we noticed our hostel was hosting a wine and cheese tasting party. But since they did a terrible job of advertising it, there were only five other people there and we quickly made friends with them. Between the seven of us, we managed to eat all the cheese and bread (and avoid paying for dinner!) before Lachlan and I caved and agreed to take the two Americans, Kyle and Amy, and the Russian, whose name I can't even attempt, to see the sparkling Eiffel Tower. 

When we got there, my super saver mode took over and I opted out of climbing to the top. Instead, Lachlan and I sat on the grass below and tourist watched. The most amusing thing was watching people take pictures. Whenever one person had an original pose, everyone else copied them until another creative person came along to start a new trend. The best was when a group of American guys did a "keg stand" with a boxed wine they had brought. Everyone else just stared, judging whether or not they should even try that. After laughing at the few drunken attempts to drink from a bottle of wine while doing a handstand, the rest of our group had returned so we all headed back to the hostel. 

 The next morning I woke up early to take advantage of the complementary breakfast that ended at 8. I'm pretty sure it was only free because no one actually gets up in time; only three other people were there, and one of them was Lachlan who had asked me to wake him up. So we ate our fill of croissants and loaded up our pockets with the rest. We headed out that morning with no plan in mind, but it ended up being one of my favorite days. It also happened to be the day I accidentally left Paris.

We had only walked one block from our hostel when we found a huge outdoor book market. They had everything from antique manuscripts and maps, to children's books and unfortunately, Twilight.

We managed to spend a couple hours wandering the stalls, a good portion of which was chatting with one talkative seller about his collection of strictly Isaac Asimov novels. As we were getting ready to leave, I turned around to take a picture, and one book stood out to me. Propped up in a place of honor was L'Élégance du Hérisson. The English translation of the book is one of my favorites, so it has been a life goal of mine to find it and read it in its original language. 

As we were leaving the book market, we ran into the Russian from the night before and two others, Johnny and Georgie, so we changed directions and followed them to the market they had heard about. It turned out to be the Marché aux Puces, one of the most famous flea markets. With hundreds of stalls, there was an overwhelming amount of kitschy garden gnomes, sterling silver spoons, and American army apparel that had been abandoned in the fields after World War II. 

When it was finally nearing lunch time, we walked a couple blocks farther to find a supermarket and bakery. The amazing thing about France is how easy it is to find cheap food. When the 5 of us pitched in a few euros each, we were able to get two different cheeses, two baguettes, some ham, tomatoes, olives, a pie, and two bottles of wine. We carried our haul to a nearby park where we sat down for a picnic. Pictured: me, Lachlan, Russian, Johnny, and the key cards we used to slice the cheese. Not pictured: Georgie, one of the very rare lone travelers of the female variety. 

When a bird came and perched on Lachlan's knee and the bells of the little chapel nearby started ringing, Johnny summed up everyone's thoughts perfectly: "This feels like a scene from a movie I would never watch."

Unfortunately Johnny, Georgie, and the Russian all had to leave to catch their various planes, trains, and automobiles. It was then that we realized we had absolutely no idea where we were. We brought out a map of the city and traced our steps right off the bottom edge. Without knowing it, we had actually crossed the city's border into a cute suburb, Issy-les-Moulineaux. After pointing our comrades north and wishing them luck, Lachlan and I chose to stay in the small commune and explore. But lying in the sun with a feast in our stomachs, our plans of exploring were quickly abandoned in favor of reading our new French books. By the time I woke up from my unintentional nap, the chapel bells were signalling 6pm and we reluctantly left the charming park to find food.

That night, a Chinese couple initially joined us for a stroll along the Champs-Élysées, but when they wanted to go to the McDonald's, we parted ways and headed towards the Seine with our baguettes. Walking along the river, we witnessed what might have been the greatest cop chase ever. One incredibly inebriated man ran by us in a tattered Napoleonic army uniform, and two policemen on rollerblades were struggling to follow him on the cobblestone path. All three of them were tripping so often that it really looked like a slapstick comedy. After that our night couldn't possibly get any better, so we started the long trek back to our beds. 

The next day I moved to my final hostel right down the street. When I walked in the door the first person I saw was Georgie. Apparently she and Johnny had both missed their buses the night before. Johnny chose to rent a scooter with some South African guys and take off on a road trip to Nice. Georgie chose the safer route, and together with Lachlan we all shared a great last day in Paris. 

We first headed towards Place de la Bastille where the infamous prison once stood. The setting for the country's most important revolutionary act is now a roundabout with a monument in the center, but for a couple history buffs it was still really cool. Walking just a little farther down the street, we found a fresh food market, so of course we had a picnic. This time, we lounged in the grass next to the Seine with delicious fruits to go with our bread, and cheese. After satisfying our picnic quota for the day, we continued on a stroll through the fascinating district, le Marais. The cheap little vintage boutiques mixed with the haute couture department stores makes it the best shopping area in the city for everyone. That night, we decided to treat ourselves and eat dinner at a real restaurant. We sat on the terrace and split a bruschetta before each ordering one of the cheapest possible options. Since we were all leaving early in the morning, we had dessert at the restaurant and then headed straight back to the hostel. That night when I climbed into my bed and looked out the window, the Eiffel Tower was just lighting up, saying goodbye. 

When we parted ways at the train station, Lachlan just smiled and asked "You just got addicted to traveling didn't you?" And there's no doubt that's true. This trip has been amazing, and I can't wait to keep traveling and experiencing as much as I can in my lifetime. 

Bienvenue à Saint Malo

So I realized I have yet to post pictures of Saint Malo, and that's truly a crime. This is a beautiful city and I am lucky to be able to spend so much time exploring it. 

The city's history stretches back to medieval days, when it was actually an island fortress. Since then, its ports have been home to pirates and explorers alike.

Most notably, Jacques Quartier departed from Saint Malo to explore the new world and settle what would become Quebec. There are monuments to him and the Canadian colonies throughout the city. 

Today, it's the top tourist destination in Brittany. Being right across the channel from England, it's considered an Anglo-Franco village because so many Brits spend their summers in the cottages and hotels lining the beach, but I still don't hear English nearly as often as I did in Paris.

The main city centre is the walled portion, called les Intra-Muros. From the outside, you see the ramparts lined with the flags of Saint Malo, Bretagne, France, and the European Union. 

And of course, no fortress wall is complete without cannons!

When you pass through one of the gates, you can choose to climb up to the wall or wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Walking on the wall around the entire city gives you incredible views of the little shops within,

and of the many beaches and the ocean on the other side.

It turns out Saint Malo is known throughout Brittany as having the most dramatic tides. At night the ocean reaches right up to the walls, sometimes spilling over onto the path, but when the tide is out it is finally possible to walk out to the island Grand Bé where Chateaubriand is buried. 

Inside the walls is a bustling and charming village. There are souvenir shops, candy stores, artist galleries, and my favorite: the ultimate seaside French village cliché store with only striped clothing.

And then there are the bistros, crêperies, patisseries, and seafood restaurants. I could easily eat at a different place every day for a whole summer without visiting them all. But when you live with the family that owns the number 1 rated crêperie in Saint Malo, there's not really a point to even trying! La Crêperie Margaux is situated in an adorable square with gardens and a fresh vegetable market. I would describe it some more, but I think the crêpes deserve their own post really. 

After wandering this maze of streets every day, I have started to notice that the street performers are on very regular schedules. For example, this guy sets up his magic show in a courtyard every day from 5 to 7, after which a contortionist pirate takes his place.

One of the most prominent historical attractions within the walls is the St. Vincent Cathedral. I haven't been able to go inside since they're restoring it, but it's very impressive from the outside. 

Also, at night it kinda looks like Hogwarts, so that's pretty awesome :)

 

I am still not bored with wandering the streets and walking along the seemingly infinite beaches. But there are still so many other places in Brittany alone to see! 

Let's have a picnic! Pt. 1

My time alone in Paris naturally splits itself into two categories. Today's post takes place in Montmartre, the beautiful village on the hill overlooking Paris. When my dad first left me, I was both nervous and excited. But by the end of that first day on my own, it was clear that I was going to have an amazing time. 

Since I had several hours before I could check in to my first hostel, I decided to explore the neighborhood. At this point I accidentally started my mission of traveling mapless, so after wandering for a while I happened to emerge at the back door of the Sacre Cœur cathedral.

 It was a beautiful day so I bought a baguette and sat down on the grass to listen to some street performers play a few Eric Clapton songs. After a short while, a young man approached me and asked my name. When I gave it to him he scribbled it down on a piece of paper, said I had beautiful eyes, and walked away leaving me with a free drawing of myself. It was just the start of many (what I have now concluded are more enchanting than creepy) surprises that Paris had in store for me. 

When I finally checked in, the first thing I did was make a friend. A Canadian named Lorne had just broken his leg in Amsterdam and lost his wallet in the Paris airport, so I took pity on him and made it my goal to make sure his trip was still amazing! Luckily, he had a very happy and optimistic attitude and his friends (Pascal, Zach, and Micah) had the same mission as me. It also doesn't hurt that Paris is never anything less than amazing. So since he couldn't climb the Eiffel Tower that night and drink champagne at the top like he had planned, I suggested we buy some wine and cheese and have a picnic underneath it instead. He loved it:

It was the first of many picnics for me, but they never got old. And I finally got a picture of me under the lit up tower:

The next day, it was this group that I took on a tour of the Louvre. Even though he had to hobble with cheap Dutch crutches, Lorne was the most enthusiastic and was constantly laughing. Even after we had finished with the Louvre they wanted a tour of the rest of Paris. I absolutely loved getting to share what I had learned about the city, and they loved not being lost all the time. I was sad to see that group leave later that day, but their contagious happy attitudes had set the scene for an amazing week to come. 

My second night, I met Scott the athletic trainer and half his New Zealand professional field hockey team (seriously I couldn't make this up if I tried). They were celebrating a recent win at a tournament that made them contenders for the Olympics. Only Scott was staying in Paris through the night, but it was a blast hanging out with the rowdy kiwis for a while! After that I headed down to see who I could meet at my hostel's bar. John and Richie, two boys from Ohio, invited me to join the card game they were just starting with Romy, an Australian girl. When I said I was from Michigan, John started singing "Hail to the Victors" and we were instantly friends. Richie was an OSU fan, but we got over our differences eventually once we decided the more important rivalry was in our game of euchre. 

By the time Scott rejoined our group at the hostel bar, happy hour had come and gone. So we grabbed our coats and headed out with the mission of finding the free dinner and salsa dancing lessons that we had heard about. We never did find the dancing - instead we found ourselves in a park next to the Seine having, you guessed it, a picnic! But between all of us and our phones, we had quite a large playlist of music. So we improvised the dance moves and called what we did salsa dancing.

Since we were all staying another night, we stuck together and tried again. The second time, we found ourselves under the Eiffel Tower instead. At this point I resigned to the fact that with new groups of people, I would most likely visit the Eiffel Tower several times. I did indeed visit it often, but each time was a different and fun experience.

The next day, when the group split up to visit different things, I realized I had already checked almost everything off my list of things to see in Paris. That even included the clichés like mimes

and matching couples.

So I got to spend the day just exploring the many bookstores and little shops. When I discovered a small, secluded courtyard, I laid down in the grass and pretended to sleep for a while as I eavesdropped on the only other people's conversation. It was encouraging how much of it I understood! I only had a problem when the girl got really upset about something and started talking fast and at an almost supersonic pitch. She was either very angry at her diet or I was just hearing food words because I was hungry. Regardless, I wandered to my new hostel to find some company for dinner. 

Again, I happened to find John and Richie along with a Londoner named Alex. We all went out to find some cheap food which ended up being Domino's (Dad, I finally made use of the buy one pizza get two free deal!), and then decided to wander and see where the night took us. There's a crazy motif about my adventures aimlessly wandering - I almost always ended up at the back of Sacre Cœur. The cathedral was even more gorgeous lit up, and the view that is incredible enough during the daytime turned into a picturesque glimpse of the City of Lights. We sat in silence for a while just appreciating the beautiful city before heading back. On the way, we passed the minorly famous cabaret, "Au Lapin Agile" where artists like Toulouse-Lautrec spent their time. Apparently at night it still opens, and we all agreed we needed to have a beer in the iconic building. It was also one of the only times I remembered to take a picture. This is John, Alex, me, and Richie (and a sign I didn't notice until now that says Callaghan & Co!)

It was a fantastic couple days. The people I met were all unique and wonderful, and I got to feel like I was really a part of the city. When I come back to Paris (when not if), I can only hope I have as good of an experience as this. 

The French clan

I've been trying to keep my posts in a somewhat chronological order, but I'm just too eager to talk about St. Malo and my amazing job here. So we'll get back to my solo Paris adventures next time. 

(Disclaimer: everything in quotes that people say to me has been translated for your benefit. Just assume no one is actually speaking English to me)

When I first arrived in the beautiful city, my host family picked me up and took me straight to the crêperie they own. We ended up eating lunch and three desserts while we sat and got acquainted. Right off the bat I knew I would love them, it was very obvious that is was a good match. 

Mme Caroline is one the sweetest people I've ever met. She is super helpful with the language and eager to accommodate. Actually, I think she is under the impression that I should be eating something at all times.

M Pascal never stops making jokes. Surprisingly, it's him not the boys who is teaching me the most slang. I'm probably learning the equivalent of an embarrassing parent saying "fo shizzle" or something, but at least I'm trying!

And then there are the boys:

Hugo (15) is around the most. He spends a lot of his time learning the guitar or playing video games, but when he emerges from his teenage boy cave he is a lot of fun to hang out with and is very sweet with his little sister. We really bonded when we spent an hour trying to figure out how the stove worked so we could make chicken nuggets. 

Adrien (21) has since left for a trip to Paris, but he was the most energetic and was always offering things for me to do. The first couple days, he took me on several tours of the city, complete with commentary and history lessons. This town is a maze, but he did an amazing job of orienting me!

Nicolas (22) doesn't live with the family, but he visits occasionally. He always comes to me with a new question prepared about American culture that leads to some very interesting conversations. Turns out, there is a French version of Jersey Shore and, even worse, a French version of Snooki.

They have all been incredibly welcoming and I'm lucky to have been placed with such a wonderful family.

And of course, there is the reason I'm here in the first place. I have the privilege of being an au pair for the most adorable little girl, Clara. 

Like most 3 year olds, she was pretty shy when she first met me and stuck close to her mom. Unlike most 3 year olds, it took her maybe five minutes to get over that, and by the end of the day she was calling me her big sister who speaks English. She is at the perfect age when imagination combines with growing intelligence. The first day, when I was pushing her on the swings she shouted "to the sky!" and proceeded to tell me an elaborate story about flying with the birds (and being careful to look both ways so planes don't hit us). I can't wait to share the many stories I will have of my adventures with this smart, creative kid!

A brief history of France's monarchy

It would take me longer than the trip itself to accurately capture all the amazing things I've done so far. There a million little stories I wish I could tell; and as of right now, 413 pictures I wish I could share. So I will try to sum it up as best I can. 

When it comes to Versailles, I would actually end up writing a history textbook as an account of our trip. The Chateau was home to any king with the name Louis between the 16th and 19th centuries and his 5000 closest friends and servants, so the history is as rich as the decorations. And then there is the labyrinth of gardens which you could easily get lost in for days. Really, all I can do to describe it is offer some pictures. 

I loved the gardens so much I decided to become a permanent feature of them.

In France, it's no big deal taking a field trip to play games in the Versailles gardens.

See that tiny thing in the background? That's the massive chateau from about halfway down the center of the gardens. 

Even the "petit" palace built just for Madame de Pompadour is obscenely extravagant.

But the gardens, as spectacular as they were, could not compete with the extravagance of the chateau. 

Especially the Hall of Mirrors. I can't imagine the women who lived here ever made it from one end to the other without stopping to check their hair and makeup at least three times.

Marie Antoinette, how did you even find your bed with this wallpaper/bedspread combo?

And of course, there were paintings covering every wall, the most famous being David's replica of his own painting, "Coronation of Napolean"

For a history fiend like me, it was really amazing wandering the halls and learning more about France's most notorious kings. But there was still so much in Paris for me to enjoy. So "adieu" Versailles. 

Where the $#!& is it?

By the end of my time in Paris, I had been exploring the city's streets for a little over two weeks. Now I feel pretty confident in my abilities to navigate the hodgepodge of streets. So confident in fact, that I avoided pulling out my map for the entire last week! Unfortunately, this definitely was not the case when I first landed in Paris...

The very first day, we were pretty exhausted, but I was still determined to see at least one landmark. So we took the small trek down to the Arc de Triomphe. When we turned down a major street, I just stared at my map in confusion. I was pretty sure the giant monument should have been visible from where we stood. It took a few extra minutes for my dad to stop laughing at me long enough to point out that I had been looking right past it the entire time. Laughing it off as a rookie mistake, we continued. 

But apparently, the iconic monuments of Paris enjoyed hiding from me. Sitting underneath the Arc, I again looked at my map, this time contemplating why I couldn't spot the Eiffel Tower. I even started turning in circles and counting streets to find the right direction. And again, my dad just laughed at me until I saw it, very clearly looming over the city's low skyline.

From that point on I made sure to always be aware of the tower, but my struggles were not over. Thankfully, my dad finally joined me in oblivion. On the day we visited Montmartre (the highest point of Paris), we decided to walk through the cemetery. It was a beautiful day and every grave was unique and extravagant. 

When we looked at the visitor's map I noticed that my favorite painter, Edgar Degas, was buried somewhere in the maze of stones. We decided to head in that general direction in the hopes that it would be obvious enough that we could spot it. On the way, we were amazed by the impressive headstones and the people lying underneath them. We saw the graves of people like Hector Berlioz, Adolphe Sax, and some physicist that my dad got really excited about. But we were nearing the end of our route and had still not seen Degas. Now, the thing I had forgotten about the French is that any name starting with "De" is actually meant to be separated from the rest. So when my dad and I stopped to snicker immaturely at the poor fellow whose last name was "de Gas," we had no idea it was actually the exact grave we were desperate to find. Instead, we both took pictures of the neighboring graves for no particular reason:

Here lies someone random

We ended up walking all the way back to the entrance to take a picture of the map that we could follow better. When it took us to the exact spot we had stood at, it still took us a minute to comprehend how much of a difference the spacing and capitalization can make in a name. It even has an image of himself and his signature on the front..

Even if I had a little trouble at first, I eventually got to see everything I set out to find in Paris. It was a spectacular trip with spectacular sights.