We’re Going to Paris Days 9 & 10: Before Noon

“Now we’ve seen Strasbourg,” I said as we stood at the quay, waiting for the train to take us to Paris. Our stop here lasted all of 11 minutes.

“Now we never need to come back here,” Mike finished.
“You’re a world traveler now. Los Angeles. Mexico City. Paris.”
“That’s it. That’s the entire world.”
“Exactly.”
“You know we’re coming back to Paris every year for the next three years, right?”
“We’ll be living under a bridge if we do that.”
“Worth it.”


The train ride was uneventful and comfortable. More comfortable than our flights to France had been. We ate our bread and cheese and sausage and read and discussed what our final plans for our last afternoon in Paris would be.

But it turned out Mike and I had very different ideas on how we wanted to spend our last afternoon in Paris. Mike wanted to go back to Père Lachaise to see the Communards wall, where a plaque dedicated to all the nameless fallen soldiers of the Paris Commune sat. Then he wanted to see the Bastille, and finally he wanted to see the Hotel de Ville.

He also wanted to walk.

I wanted to get hot chocolate at a café and write. Maeve had suggested DOSE like a week ago and I still hadn’t been. So, after getting settled in Place D’Aligre, Mike and I parted ways, agreeing to meet Sylvain at Le Baron Rouge for wine and charcuterie at 6:30 or 7.

(Sylvain had plans to be productive that night, taking care of personal matters, until he learned what neighborhood we were staying in, and then he very excitedly suggested a very hip wine bar and promised us our best night of the trip.)

There are two locations for DOSE, and the closer one was just under a mile and a half from our Airbnb. I decided to walk because taking the metro would take roughly the same amount of time anyway. It struck me as, um, interesting that I was going to walk for 30 minutes to find hot chocolate in Paris, of all places, but I was determined on this course.

Can't get mad at it though, because all walks in Paris are amazing. I put in my earbuds and decided to listen to a Pandora playlist based off a song from the Amélie soundtrack, and then spent a good amount of time deciding which was the more #basicwhitegirl thing to do - the Amélie soundtrack, or the Kesha Pandora playlist? And honestly, when did basic white girl music get so awesome?

My walk took me through the Jardin des Plantes, which was absolutely stunning. It was 65 degrees outside. I had a great afternoon.

This bear and this man are fighting but it looks vaguely sexual.

I also walked by the Paris Mosque, which was pretty neat too, since I'd never seen it before. I didn't go inside because I don't know if you can (and I didn't really try), but it was neat seeing a religious structure built so differently than the cathedrals that I've been visiting this trip.

Finally I sat down at DOSE and I had a really swell hot chocolate while getting some good writing done and messaging Mike about his own adventures. He saw the wall! He saw the Hotel de Ville!

Apparently not the original Hotel de Ville because that place was burned down by Communards.

Here we honor Communards.

And Caitlin, there was a protest! HE SAW A PROTEST.

(When he called to ask if I saw the pictures he sent, I told him it was for a "Keep France French" demonstration. He was so deflated I immediately told him I was kidding and that it was a labor strike.)

Wow a strike what a special day in Paris.

At DOSE, I had a conversation with a very chatty Australian guy.
"I lived in California for a bit, when I was 21."
"Oh, where?"
"Guess. It's the worst place in California."
"San Bernardino." Nothing. "Fresno."
"Yes! Fresno! People usually guess that first. Or Bakersfield."
"Ugh, yes, Bakersfield is gross too. But I have some memories of playing high school soccer in San Bernardino so maybe I'm just biased."

Later we somehow got to talking about Trump and he asked me my thoughts on whether he was going to be impeached (at this point, nope) and if was going to run in 2020 (definitely) and how Trump was the reason he doesn't pay as much attention to the news anymore because he is the worst. I am honestly surprised it took this long for someone to tell me how terrible Trump is, but maybe the French are aware that their current president is not that chill either. YEAH I SAID IT.

Mike found me around 6 PM and we walked over to Le Baron Rouge to meet Sylvain for our last dinner in Paris. Sylvain told us that for his birthday, Maeve sent flowers and also bought him a mug that only he is allowed to use in their Berkeley apartment. He showed us his present for Maeve that he's working on but I won't spoil that here because it's not her birthday yet.

Le Baron Rouge is one of the best and most famous wine bars in Paris. It's where construction workers in bathrobes might show up after a long day but also where American and Japanese hipsters go when they're here on vacation. So in that sense, it's like the Stella Artois of wine bars. But it's a really cute place, and we had some really good wine and rabbit terrine and cheese and bread and it was exactly the right last meal to have in France.

"You really undersold how good crepes are, Caitlin."
"I did, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you were like, 'they're okay,' but they're really good."
"Yeah. My bad."
"I'm going to go home and be really obnoxious about Paris all the time now."
"You can tell people how much better the food is here."
"Yeah. Well, Trevor has been here before."
"Ah, yes, but you're someone who just appreciates the culture more than someone like Trevor would."
"Oh my god that's good. I'm definitely going to use that. And I'll tell my sister not to dress like an American here. Parisians dress differently, you know? She should know that. I'll tell her."
"Yeah, tell her to put away that fanny pack she loves so much. And the Hard Rock Cafe graphic tee she's always wearing."
"This is good. I'm using all of this."

Sylvain is apparently a huge fan of Arrested Development, which I never knew - it's my favorite TV show of all time. We also talked about the fact that Judd Apatow is an asshole, Jonah Hill is nice but maybe socially awkward and shy (Sylvain has met both of them), Patton Oswalt is great (I met him), and Gerard Depardieu is a monster (none of us have met him but he is apparently a big fan of Putin and also recently claimed that he survived his mother's abortion attempt, making him the French version of Charlie Day).

After dinner, Mike and I had one last crepe with ice cream and it was great OBVIOUSLY before heading back to our room.

"So I have advice for everyone who comes to Paris," Mike told me on the way to the airport. "It's a city with a lot of PDA, so you have to do it a lot. Just constantly have your tongue out."
"I can't wait to read your guidebook."


Our flight left Paris at 12:35 PM and now we're chilling in Iceland for a few hours. I'm bummed the trip has ended but I'm excited about being back home. There's a lot to do and it's gonna make me anxious until I can actually carve out the time to sit down and do it.

Okay bye France!

We're Going to Pa- Colmar Day 8: America, the Land of the Free

“You’re going to have to translate what he’s saying to me,” Mike said during our gondola ride.

“I have no idea what he’s saying. Oh, that house is yellow. Something about latrines. It’s too bad. Yeah, that’s all I’m getting.”

Mike and I started the day off, as always, getting coffee and croissants. All of our meals here take two hours because service in France is terrible. Maybe it’s because we don’t tip here – although that’s changing now, thanks for nothing America. It just always feels like waiters have better things to do than ask us if we want the check.

After breakfast, we stopped by the Monoprix, where a bag of blue razors was 2.64 euro and a bag of pink razors was 2.73 so the pink tax is alive and well here I guess.

We finally got to the gondola on the river and it was magical. I was a bit bummed we had to share our ride with four other people but I guess we don’t get private tours in Little Venice here. Anyway it was stunning and here are some pics to prove it!

Afterwards we got pretzels which was okay and some sausage for our train ride back to Paris the next day (Mike and I decided to splurge on the train on the way back lolol) that we would pair with a baguette and cheese. We're nothing if not planners.

After a quick lunch, Mike and I went to the Bartholdi Museum, which is in the house where Auguste Bartholdi grew up and lived. August Bartholdi sculpted the Statue of Liberty and was also a pretty renowned painter. The museum was fascinating, with sculptures of lions and Lafayette and Washington and paintings of the New York skyline in the 19th century. 

A few different versions of the Statue of Liberty that were considered before choosing the one we have today.

On the ground floor of the museum, there was a room dedicated to the Jewish people of Alsace. The history of the Jews in Alsace is, unsurprisingly, a real bummer. They first came to the region in the 4th century with the Roman armies, dealt with persecution and forced migration to rural areas for centuries, were blamed for the Bubonic Plague, had restrictions for land-owning and commerce enforced upon them, and finally, by the 19th century, began to slowly get some more basic civil rights.

Then the Franco-Prussian War happened, and if they wanted to stay French, they had to leave the region (because this war meant the Alsace-Lorraine region was returned to Germany) until WWI, when the Treaty of Versailles gave the region back to France. And things were, um, okay I guess, until WWII, when the Germans invaded and the French were all "oh, you want some Jews? We got some Jews for you. No problem."

All of these events were listed in a timeline in French, and Mike asked me to translate, so I got to read it all out loud. 

"This is a real downer," Mike said. Yes. He's not wrong.

We relaxed and walked around most of the afternoon. Accidentally came across House of the Heads on our way back to Monoprix to pick up the baguette and cheese. Finally visited St. Martin's church without the congregation and took some sweet pics. I love gothic cathedrals. Such fascinating atmosphere.

We also walked by this place, and either they sell trophies and feminine hygiene products side by side, or tampons means something different in French.

"Ah, yes, we sell trophies, engravings, medallions, and tampons."

We also saw this cat.

And then went to dinner at a place called Caveau de St. Pierre, which was one of my favorite meals of the trip. We ordered Alsatian muscat - very yum - and some red meat and spatzle. Dessert for Mike was this rasberry/lemon sorbet with meringue that was very good, and I got profiteroles. There were almonds even though almonds are not listed in the ingredients, which is very French, to add nuts where no one asked for them.

"Can you eat that?" Mike asked. "Should we send it back?"

"Almonds actually aren't that bad for me. I should be okay."

"Okay. But I'm going to be watching you the whole time. Like this." He looked at me with his brows furrowed in his version of Serious Face, which also looks like his Grumpy Face. 

"The whole time? Like that?"

"The whole time."

"Okay."

I took a bite. I put my fork down and put my hand to my chest. Breath stuttered in and out. I put my hand on the table for balance. Mike stared. Then I grinned and started breathing normally again and Mike got very angry with me and told me it wasn't funny but I think maybe it was a little funny? 

I also ordered something called Eau de Vie Framboise, which is a liquor famous in this region. I took a quick sip and immediately put the glass down and started coughing. I gave the glass to Mike to try. He sputtered as well.

"What did you order? Antiseptic?"

"I know, right?"

"I pride myself on keeping a straight face when I take a shot but Jesus. You could strip paint with that stuff."

I finished the glass because I already paid for it so.

On the way back, Mike decided to lecture me about my language choices.
"You know, when you say that word, they can understand what you're saying."
"No. There's no way."
"It has roots in the German language, Caitlin. They can figure it out."
"When you say that, all I hear is you being a big fucking nerd, bro."
"You gonna stuff me in a locker?"
"Yeah."

And that was our last night in Colmar! We went to bed early to get ready for our train to Paris. Tomorrow is our last day in France. We're not all that ready to go home.

We’re Going to Pa- Colmar Day 7: Sauerkraut is Dank

“Are you making money moves up there?” Mike asked from downstairs as I was getting dressed. I ran to the staircase.

“Why yes! I am making money moves! Thank you for asking!”

He must have heard my sweet tunes. Nice.

Mike and I had breakfast in our room before venturing out to Colmar. Colmar is so great. Paris is Paris, always wonderful and romantic and amazing, but I love having the opportunity to see smaller towns when I can. Cobblestone streets and medieval architecture and awesome gothic cathedrals and museums in almost all of them.

We first went to the large, central cathedral, St. Martin’s, to get a look inside. The bells were ringing, which made a dog so upset he started barking at it. But the barking didn’t stop the bells from ringing for some reason, so the dog kept barking. Keep trying, dog!

We went inside without realizing this cathedral still held mass. Whoops. Walked right back out.

“All the underwear in France has lace on it,” Mike said after passing yet another lingerie store.

“Yes. All French women wear all lace underwear all the time, always.”

“I knew it.”

Our first proper stop was the Toy Museum, which was pretty neat because it had toys dating from the 19^th century. Some toy collectors, who especially liked toys with motors of some kind in them, sold their collection to the city of Colmar, and this museum was the result.

There were some fun things here. Apparently kids weren’t considered people until the 19^th century, and that’s when toys started to become a bigger deal. There were tiny steam engine trains in here, but apparently not many of them were produced because some people thought it was dangerous to give steam engines to children. Hm.

Legos.

Mickey Mouse, dominoes, Monopoly, and circus toys!

Ninja turtles, Pokemon monopoly... checks out.

Toy construction set from the 1880s.

Toy guns make for kid patriots.

Barbies were in the girl section.

On the lower right hand side is a straight up toy mop bucket and broom set. WHO BUYS THIS FOR THEIR CHILD?

The top floor was all model trains. Nice.

After the toy museum, Mike and I went to the Unterlinden Museum, which is housed in an old Dominican convent first founded in the 1300s. It’s a beautiful building, obviously, and it has something called the Issenheim Altar, which was painted by Grunewald in the 1500s. There is a lot of artwork from the Issenheim monastery because it was destroyed… during a world war, maybe? I can’t remember.

That monastery was an Antonite monastery, so named for their devotion to St. Antony the hermit. The altar was a place people would come to if they were suffering from St. Antony’s fire, which was this disease that would basically give you gangrene all over your body until you died. It came from some bacteria on rye that you got if you cooked rye the wrong way or didn’t cook it or something, I don’t know, rye was involved. Anyway, it sounds gross.

The inside of the Issenheim altar.

Panels from the Issenheim altar. These are demons attacking St. Antony. Based on a true story.

Jesus rising from the dead on the left.

The altar was a place that wanted to heal you but also to remind you that Jesus definitely suffered way more than you did, so maybe chill out? I think that was Jesus’s intention – I suffered so people could be told to get over their own shit for eternity, until I come back.

A lot of Jesus being in serious pain. It's very detailed.

There was also a modern art wing with some Picasso paintings and Rodin sculptures so that was very neat too.

Also this painting of Macauley Culkin from the 19th century.

For lunch, Mike and I went to a café that served sauerkraut with 5 kinds of meat, by which they meant five kinds of pork products. It was good but also a lot. Also I know sauerkraut gets a bad rap but it’s delicious.

Mike and I then spent a very casual afternoon relaxing, writing, and then walking around. We got a beer at a local Irish pub. I tried to take a picture of this cute black lab but I clicked on the wrong button and then the dog walked away. I’m still pretty torn up about it.

Dinner was pork shoulder and sauerkraut again. Mike had chicken and spatzle, which is a weird kind of noodle that’s really good. We talked about politics and I am very tempted to quote our interactions because we had some sick burns about libertarianism but I’ll refrain.

Colmar is a nice change of pace from Paris, much slower, much easier to traverse, and a beautiful town. We’ll be sorry to leave.

We're Going to Paris Day 6: Okay, Actually It's Colmar Now

The train from Paris to Colmar was about 100 euro each, and just as expensive on the way back. A plane would be about the same cost, if not cheaper.
A bus would be cheaper, but it would take us 10 hours (while a train would take literally 25% of that time).
So when I stumbled upon this app called BlaBlaCar that would get us to Colmar for about 40 euro each, I was pretty stoked.
BlaBlaCar is a carpooling app that does not exist in the US, because Americans hate carpooling (I think? This is my hot take anyway). It matches up people looking for a ride with people willing to give one. The best match - someone who had two seats left in their car and would take us directly to Colmar instead of a nearby town - was leaving from Gare D'Antony, which took us about an hour to get to from our Paris Airbnb. He had a 3.8/5, which made us both just a bit nervous, but this app has been around for over 10 years and it feels sort of like uber for long rides and the written reviews of this guy all seemed chill. We even texted a bit beforehand.

I'm so glad we did BlaBlaCar. The ride was uneventful and easy, and Mike and I took turns sleeping in the backseat. The first half of the trip wasn't a lot to see, but once you get to Alsace it's all windy roads and forests and it's beautiful. I'm so glad we decided to stay in Colmar.

The carpool driver, Akli, dropped us off right outside our Airbnb, which was really nice of him. Our Airbnb host answered the doorbell pretty much immediately. His name is Jean-Marc and he speaks very, very little English. He was glad I spoke French because he can't really speak English.

Our Airbnb is small but it's so much nicer than our Parisian one. It has modern plumbing and a washing machine and a television AND WIFI. IT HAS WIFI. We have a private courtyard (that we share with the other tenants, okay, not private, but still) and Jean-Marc lives in the same building so if we have any questions or concerns we just let him know.

"You're from England?" he asked us as we were walking up the stairs to the bedroom (it's two stories - the bottom floor has the kitchen and the TV and a couch and the toilet and a chill area, and upstairs is the bath and the bedroom).
"No, we're from the US," I responded.
"Oh, but that's incredible! The US? Really?"
"Los Angeles."
"Los Angeles? And you're here in Colmar? Wow. Europeans, they're used to small spaces like this, but not Americans."
"Oh, this place is so great. It's really nice."
"Americans. Wow. But that's a long flight. 15 hours?"
"Something like that."
"Did you stop in New York?"
"Keflavik. Iceland."
"Wow. And where did you come from before this?"
"Paris."
"That's far, Paris."

Anyway this dude is chill I am a fan.

After getting settled, Mike and I decided to walk around Colmar and get something to eat. Colmar, by the way, is everything I wanted it to be. Cobblestone streets, French/German architecture, buildings dating back from medieval times, and this beautiful little river - La Petite Venice - running through it all.

Deep thoughts happening.

"My sister's gonna ask me, 'oh, you were in Colmar?'" Mike said as we were walking around. "And I'm gonna be like, 'actually, it's Colmah."
"God I hope you do that. You'll be wrong too, of course, but I hope you do it."

Not my first choice of restaurant in Colmar tbh.

We stopped at a restaurant for some "tarte flambée," which is basically Alsatian pizza. It is great.

I took a bite before remembering to take a pic my b.

Next to us was a table with two couples in their 60s. One woman was very loudly playing a piano app on her phone. I turned to stare at her because clearly she wanted an audience (why else would you do this?). Mike leaned over and grabbed my forearm.

"Caitlin," he said. "We're in a public space."
"Yeah, that's my point."
"It's not even that noticeable."
"Not for you, maybe. You're all the way on the other side of the table. I can hear it really clearly from here. And also, she's so old. How are you gonna be this old and do shit like this? Unbelievable."
"She can probably speak English."
"Good. Then she knows she's old."

Okay, maybe I overreacted, but then she started using some SINGING APP and sang into her phone and I can't even. They were super European, too, so obviously Europeans have no manners. Right?

Mike was still struggling to remember the Austrian table manners his mother taught him. Which side does the fork go on? Why is the fork in the left hand if we're right handed? Because the knife does all the work. Yeah, but I have to sit straight as a board, I can't even lean forward at all, so really, it's the fork doing all the work, and all the food falls off my fork by the time it reaches my mouth!

I decided not to respond to that last part.

We walked around a little bit more and I'm so excited to be in Colmar. It's also known for wine and pretzels and black forest cake and it's cheaper than Paris (obviously) and the guy who made the Statue of Liberty is from here and it's gonna be a great few days I think. Pretty stoked.