from paris, with love | part I

In January, TJ and I ventured to Paris and Barcelona for two weeks. We were flying solo (together), and eating as much cheese + bread + market produce as we could. We were making memories.

We arrived separately. I arrived a day earlier than TJ, and despite leaving Boston at 8:30pm (after an already long day of concerns and debacles following the news of the Charlie Hebdo attack and all the tensions that followed), I arrived in the city at around 2pm and my day was lengthened yet again. On recommendations from Padre, who had been travelling to and from Paris (and greater France) for three and a half years prior, I flew through Iceland and, despite a run-in with a rather concerning offering of traditional Icelandic food (read: it looked like some kind of nutritional nut bar, with divots and punctures that looked like nuts and seeds. It was actually a deceptively tiny piece of headcheese that I would ideally prefer to never encounter again), had a smooth and seamless journey.

Arriving in Paris was daunting. Although I had been living alone for a year – and had travelled within Australia by myself, not to mention back and forth between Australia and America solo numerous times – the thought of travelling in a country where I didn’t speak the language and had an incredible tendency to pronounce words as they were written (thanks, four years of Spanish) instead of the trained way of the French was a slightly nerve-wracking one. I tried my best to mimic a French accent and it worked out alright. Mostly. The train stations were large and well-manned (not to mention, on high security alert), and my departure from the airport was made all the more easier by a kind individual who showed me the way by his own volition. I’ll assume my reading the map upside down appeared an unconscious cry for help.

TJ and I were to spend the first few nights of our Parisian stay with family friends (P, A & N), before venturing to an AirBnb apartment in the Marais. I was to follow directions to Duroc Station and travel onwards from there. Before long, I arrived at a gorgeous building in the 7th Arr., decorated with ornate external sculpturing and home to an intricate (and tiny) internal elevator. I was travelling light (with only two carry-on bags) so I fit in the elevator after some juggling of my person. I’ll avoid thinking about what would’ve happened had I not had the foresight to travel so lightly.

Being welcomed into the apartment was like being welcomed home – there were smiling faces, warm embraces, and an assortment of food on the table. I ate cheese, bread, olives, salads, lentils, and pastries like the French do: slowly, and a lot. A lot of cheese.

photo by riley.

We were off to an art gallery after our afternoon snack, and the gallery housed some colourful art; it was contemporary and full of commentary. The artist, Alain Delorme, used highly saturated photographs of food of all kinds, full of colour and greasy goodness, to provoke consideration of what we’re using to fuel our bodies. It felt somewhat out of place in a country where the food is so delicious and inviting, but the art was intriguing all the same.

photo by riley.

After wandering around the streets, we caught a bus home. P decided I needed to see Bon Marche.

I needed to see Bon Marche.

It’s no exaggeration to say that I spent a good twenty minutes simply oogling the olives…

photo by riley.

…and the cheeses…

photo by riley.

…and the oysters…

photo by riley.

…and the langoustines…

photo by riley.

I was in culinary heaven. If I could have, I would’ve bottled up the scent of that fromage room and wore it as perfume.

And it didn’t stop there. We had dinner at a spot in Rue du Cherche-Midi, called Cafe Trama. The food was clean and decadent, and plentiful. I had wheat-rice risotto with calamari and some kind of citrusy fruit, and we all enjoyed a generous sharing of bread and salads and shaved meats and cheeses. Oh, the cheeses. Hand-pulled burrata came out before mains, centered as the star on a circular plate and drizzled with aged olive oil. (It didn’t last long.) The kitchen was tiny, hidden behind the bar. Two chefs stood inside, side-by-side barely, silently creating masterpieces that I still reminisce about. But I forgot my camera.

In the light of the setting sun that night, I breathed in that Parisian air and felt entirely separated from the craziness of the days prior. Tomorrow would be the Unity March, and would also mark the arrival of TJ. It was to be a big day.

photo by riley.

There would be no better way to start a trip than on this day, surrounded by family and incredible food. Did I mention the cheeses?

R.

sweet, short, and swiss

Hello again! I am writing this post from Strasburg with a bit of embarrassment considering that: a) it has been, yet again, eight days since I last wrote; and b) I’ve been in three different countries since then! Allow me to elaborate–

Three days after my last post, Madre, Padre, Hermano, and I flew from Barcelona airport to Lyon, France, and then drove to Lausanne, Switzerland. This part of our trip is definitely the “car part.” But I love it! European Roadtrip, aye? (That would make a great band name.)

Arriving in Switzerland was certainly a surreal experience, not only for the fact that–huzzah–I can now say “I’ve been there! And I LOVED  IT!” but mainly because of the incredibly breathtaking landscapes and natural beauty. Over three days, we ventured to three different Swiss towns/cities.

Town The First

Our first stop was in Lausanne, where we stayed at a quaint hotel with a great view of the lake (considering I could throw a stone from the window of the room and it would have landed in the water) and a lovely waitress at the hotel restaurant/breakfast buffet called Brigitte. Since we only had less than 24 hours in the town, we opted to have a late lunch at the hotel (two steaming bowls of mussels, one “Provencal,” one…another way that I cannot remember!), freshen up, and then head out for dinner in the old part of town. The train system was super easy, taking us straight out of Ouchy (the part we were staying in) and directly into town where we had a delicious “typical Swiss” dinner. Hermano and I shared a beef fondue, and it was t-r-e-m-e-n-d-o-u-s.

For only a few hours in Lausanne, we were lucky enough to enjoy the beautiful setting sun, the rising one, and plenty of delicious food.

Town The Second

luzern. photo by riley.

Leaving Lausanne, we headed to Luzern (or, Lucerne). On the way to our hotel, we stopped at the massive Mount Pilatus. An astonishing sight from the ground, we opted to take the cable car all the way to the top for a view unparalleled. The cable car system was a bit like a subway, with stops at different crests on the mountain. So, to explain, we took the cable car to the highest point, passing the two other stops along the way. Then, on the way back down, we stopped at the point before the final point (so, point three) and took a little ride (okay–three) down “the longest summer toboggan run in Switzerland.” And, boy! was it a blast.

Since the closest toboggan comparison I have is the run at Jamberoo (which, undoubtedly, is a fun run is all essence of the term), the run at Pilatus was absolutely incredible. And–runner up to the astounding views of the mountain on the way down–the run is equipped with a system that pulls you back up the hill. Awesome. My kind of toboggan run 🙂

After taking in all we could at Mount Pilatus, we continued on our way to our hotel. Situated on the other end of a one-car-size street that winded around a mountain side, our hotel was adorable. My German is nonexistent, so the willingness of the staff to speak English and accommodate my inability was highly appreciated. We didn’t even need to leave the hotel (a term I use lightly. I would refer to it more as an inn, I think), instead opting to enjoy the sunset from the teeny part opposite the hotel. Our view was beautiful–when the sun went down, the lights across the lake shone with in perfect harmony with the silence of the night. Beautiful.

Town The Third

zurich. photo by riley.

From Luzern, we drove to Zurich, arriving in time for a quick nap, a little wander around town, and then dinner at a locally renowned Vietnamese restaurant. Zurich was certainly beautiful, but it was a little on the expensive side compared to our other stops in Switzerland. We all-Madre, Padre, Hermano, and I–adored the walk through town, and our meal was certainly fabulous.

While our time in Switzerland was short, it was sweet. We had a fabulous time.

From Zurich, we headed to Ulm, in Germany for a 12 hour stopover before making our way to where we are now–Strasbourg. On our way, yesterday, we stopped in a little town (of which I didn’t see a sign for the name of) to zipline through the Black Forest. We came a little early, so we decided to stop to find somewhere for lunch. After following a sign that led through winding roads, we found an adorable little restaurant of which we were the only customers for 1.5 of the 2 hours we were there. I opted for the “spatzle” — homemade — and enjoyed it immensely!

germany. photo by riley.

After stocking up on some German cuisine, we headed to the zipline place and, after learning the basic instructions, ziplined-it-up.

Well. Can you say amazing? Because that’s exactly what it was. Amazing. Breathtaking views over the tallest trees in the Black Forest, mixed with the adrenalin-pumping truth of being 83 metres above ground level providing an experience that I would LOVE to have again. It was incredible. (I’m using that word a lot, aye? It’s because it’s a perfect describing word for the circumstances!)

germany. photo by riley.

Now we’re in Strasbourg, and we’re due to head out to experience the town! In the mean time, I need to grab a cuppa tea and read up on Strasbourg! Any recommendations?

R.