I hear babies cry....WAH!

Yesterday BU took us to the wine museum of Paris, which is in this big, ancient cellar. It was pretty neat, we each sat down in front of 5 wine glasses and then listened to the woman talk about oenology and the history of the place. Then, of course, we got to smell things and taste things and then (finally) we got to taste the wine. Here's what we tried:

a 2007 Chablis -- I found this too acidic and tangy to finish.
a 2004 Burgundy (ROTY) -- this was much more to my liking and tasted strongly of pears
a 2005 Pouliac -- Probably my favorite, once the cheese came out. Red wine without cheese is just not the same.
a 2001 Beaune -- Not a fan. Too acidic for a red, in my opinion.
a Galliac sparkling wine -- DELISH.




After the wine tasting, we got to walk through this museum, which was kind of creepy because there were wax figures hidden in little alcoves and around corners. So we went through it pretty quickly and then came home.

Sam and I decided that we wanted to get a nice dinner, as we'd been eating Fondation food all week, so we found a place in le Marais (in the 3eme arrondissement) called Page 35, which was great. It was a cozy yet really modern restaurant that doubled as an art gallery, so the walls were covered with a series of photos.

I ordered the boeuf bourgignon with house fries and Sam got a parmesean chicken dish. Mine was phenomenal, even with the few bits of mushroom I spotted, and the French Fries were incredible! Sam's dish was also superb, although the roasted potatoes almost stole the show, they were so delicious. For dessert, I got a fabulous creme brulee and Sam got some ice cream.

Then we headed over to the 6eme to meet Gerakd, Trevor and Mark Anthony at Hippocampus for some jazz. When we got there, Gerald the only person sitting inside, and a trumpet player and pianist were jamming in the middle of the room. We sat down, ordered some drinks and waited for Trevor, Mark Anthony, and all the customers that had crowded the place last weekend to arrive. Well, Trevor and Mark Anthony finally showed up, but no one else did. We had the entire place to ourselves! The musicians were talking to us and once they found out we were American, they decided to give us a lesson in French standards. It was awesome. A woman vocalist/clarinetist showed up and an old guy with a banjo played a few songs before he headed out.

When the band said goodnight around 23h30, the singer/trumpet player came over and gave us a free CD, which of course, being nerds, we (and by we I totally mean Sam. Not about the being nerdy bit, but about getting it autographed. She's clearly the one with the guts.) got it autographed! So now we have this sweet Parisian jazz CD with a "To Samantha..." and some indecipherable scribbles. So awesome!

Il était une fois un vigneron qui avait 7 filles...

Today my literature class had a field trip to the galleries and passageways of Paris. Unfortunately, as soon as we headed out, it started snowing. Luckily it didn't stick around very long, but it was pretty chilly. However, it was incredibly interesting and some of them were absolutely gorgeous. You really could see how people would have been drawn to them (and to commercialism!) in the 1800s.



I bought an interesting Cabernet Sauvignon today for about 3€. For the price, it tasted pretty excellent, but what really was interesting was the label/marketing idea. The company, "Les 7 Soeurs", apparently makes seven different types of wine, which are each named after the supposed seven daughters of the winemaker. For example, the Cabernet Sauvignon I bought was named Madeleine, who apparently is "generous" and "well-balanced", two adjectives that I assume are supposed to describe the wine as well, although I don't really know how one would judge that. I'm really terrible at degustering. Guess it's a good thing I'm going to a wine museum on Friday!

In case you haven't noticed from my entries, I've been on a crazy jazz kick. Thanks to this sweet website, ruckus.com, I have legally (what?! craziness!) downloaded approximately a million wonderful songs and have compiled a "Paris" playlist of piano solos, Gershwin medleys and old French artists. Did you know that "My Way" and "Beyond the Sea", made popular by Frank Sinatra and Bobby Darin, respectively, were both originally French songs? I highly recommend downloading "Comme d'habitude" ("My Way") par Claude Francois. C'est vachement mieux en francais! Je l'adore!

Oh mon dieu, ça va?! Vous n'êtes pas mort?!

So. Interesting.

Today Trevor, Sam and I went to Les Invalides, which was clearly awesome, as Napoleon is involved. I took lots of pictures, you can look at them here and here.

On the way home, Sam and I stopped at the grocery store, but I was taking a bit longer so Sam left a few minutes before me.

So I'm riding the metro, almost home. One stop away from the stop I need to transfer at. My phone rings.

"Jillian, don't get off at Denfert-Rochereau! There's tear gas and police everywhere!"

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to get out, just don't get off here, find another way home!"

Two seconds later, my metro pulls up to Denfert-Rochereau. The doors slide open, the sound of people coughing and crying on the platform wafts into the car, along with the sharp smell of cayenne pepper. I pull my scarf over my nose and stay seated, clutching my groceries. Mercifully, the doors slide shut and the metro starts moving. I lower my scarf and sigh in relief.

Suddenly, there is some sort of very loud explosion. The metro, only having moved a few inches, screeches to a stop. Everyone stands up.

What the hell was that?! I think. Then, Oh my god, Sam's still there!

Fingers shaking, I hit redial. Ring. Ring. Ring. Finally, she picks up. She is relatively safe, she's gotten out of the station, she did not hear any explosion. She's barricaded in by police, but at least she's above ground.

I, however, am trapped on the metro. The doors have slid open again, and the tear gas has entered the car. Luckily, before I have enough time to panic, the driver gets on the PA system and thanks us for our patience, and the doors slide shut.

I get off at the next stop, a stop I've never been at before. I find a map and see that I can walk home pretty easily, but the only way home I know is by the metro stop where all the crazy shit is going down. Oh well, I guess I'll have to risk it.

So I'm walking by tons of police officers and there are lights flashing everywhere and it's pretty scary,but at least I'm above ground and it doesn't look like the road I need is blocked off. As I walk through the square though, a column of around 30 police officers is marching into the bus station.

Don't worry, I had a nice, boring walk home with my huge bag of groceries, and I am totally fine, just a little shaken. Sam and I broke out our bottle of wine and had some cheese and crackers. I'm going to attack my bar of chocolate in approximately .05 seconds.

So, moral of the story = Paris is scary. And now I never want to ride public transportation by myself ever again.