We're Going to Paris Day 1: Montmartre and American BBQ

The place we're staying has a courtyard, which is very nice, and a big ol' double door to get to the sidewalk. But Mike and I are not familiar with French doors and locks, so the first time we tried to leave our Airbnb we were locked in, examining the lock from all angles and trying to pull on it in various ways with no success until someone pressed a button on the side that unlocked the door immediately. The guy smiled at us like we were very dumb and maybe he was right but now we know how to get out of our Airbnb so that's cool.

While looking for breakfast, we came across a place called Bagelstein. BAGELSTEIN. Good god. What a name for a place.
"It's like Vichy France propaganda," I told Mike. He agreed.

AKA JewFuel

We had breakfast at a local cafe and I don't know how the French do it but croissants are genuinely so much better here. In the US they're whatever but in Paris they are buttery and flakey and melt-in-your-mouth. The coffee is small but tasty.

Mike was in charge today, which honestly was difficult for me. He is occasionally, um, directionally-challenged, and at one point he took out the map on his phone, charted a course, and then hit GO so the phone could give us walking directions OUT LOUD.

"No. Absolutely not. Turn that off. We're not doing that," I told him.
"You are so self-conscious," he shook his head like I'm the one wrong here and turned it off at that time, but later turned it right back on and I pretended not to notice.

Mike is so excited to be here and so in love with the city, which on the one hand is great and on the other hand makes it difficult to walk with him. He would speed walk so fast I would have to jog to keep up with him, and then when I wasn't paying attention, I would be a half block ahead of him because he stopped to take pictures and I had no idea.

"Mike!" I might yell on such an occasion.
"When I stop, it means I'm taking pictures," Mike might  explain to me in respond.

Mike taking sweet pics.

Mike chose to spend the first part of our day wandering around the Montmartre cemetery, and it's beautiful. Genuinely stunning.

Mike found a map with a list of where the famous people are buried. "Let's go in alphabetical order. It might take longer but-"
"Why don't we just go by sections?"

Anyway it's also famous for its cats. Here are some photos.

Some crypts/graves that can be seen on the other side of the overpass.

Cat doing its thing.

Zeus?

This cat was very upset I was walking anywhere near him.

"Do you think he was overcompensating for something?" Mike asked me.

"I can't believe I met the executioner of Louis XVI," Mike said afterwards.
"You didn't meet him. You just saw his grave."
Mike stared at me for a moment.
"I can't believe I got to meet the executioner of Louis XVI," he repeated.
Sure.


After the cemetery we wandered around Montmartre, which is a charming neighborhood, and then made our way to the Sacré-Coeur. After a few pictures of the view, Mike and I decide to go in the church.
"See that guy in that painting?" Mike asked me.
"Yeah."
"That's me.

Archangel Michael. Very funny. Great.

He made that joke twice.

St. Mike

Mike also told me that the Sacré-Coeur was built after the Paris Commune of 1871 in the very spot where most of the Paris Commune took place.

The view on the steps of the Sacré-Coeur

We grabbed lunch a little outside Montmartre. I got beef bourguignon and it was great and Mike got rump steak which was okay. He wanted it medium rare and they got it to him rare so. We also got hot chocolate but I'm gonna be real it was mad disappointing. So I am still on the hunt for good hot chocolate. I can't imagine it will be that hard to find but that hot chocolate I had at lunch was like Swiss Miss bullshit.

For dinner, Mike and I met up with my cousin Maeve's husband Sylvain at an American BBQ place called Flesh bar. American BBQ is very big in Paris right now. The restaurant we chose was in the middle of opening a second location. Sylvain could think of four or five other places also opening in Paris.

The ribs melted off the bone, the mushroom toast was to die, and I've never had a brownie this good in my life.

Ribs.

Mushroom toast. Guess France hasn't learned about avocado yet but it was v good.

"Bagels are also big in Paris right now," Sylvain told us.
"Oh yeah! We came across this place called Bagelstein!"
"It's a chain I think."
"NO!" I cracked up. "BAGELSTEIN is a chain?!?!"
"Yeah."
"Bagels are traditionally Jewish food, like NY Jewish food. And Stein is a Jewish last name. So they came up with Bagelstein?!" I cracked up again. It was probably rude. The table next to us was louder (and full of plastic surgery, which Mike pointed out to me) so I think we were okay.

(I maybe thought this was all much funnier than it actually was, but I also stand by my belief that Bagelstein is a terrible fucking name for a bagel restaurant.)

Sylvain is moving to Berkeley in a few months. He's not sure when - it depends on when his green card is processed. Maeve is already in Berkeley working. He's excited about the move. He's been in Paris for 10 years and ready for a change of scenery.

"You'll miss croissants," I said. "I don't get it, but croissants are better here. It shouldn't be hard to just follow a recipe."
"Yeah. I agree. And Spain has terrible croissants. The whole country just has the worst croissants."
That's dumb, Spain.

Mike and Sylvain talked a lot about what places to visit and suggestions around Paris. He's a great source of information. Mike asked a lot of questions, and then we decided on going to the Louvre and the catacombs tomorrow. Very neat.

"And this park here is where I told Maeve I loved her. I was so nervous. I had to think about what we were and how I felt and I realized I loved her, so I planned this trip out here, and even when we got there, it took me 10 minutes to work up the courage to tell her," Sylvain told us. So cute. So romantic. I'm so into it.
"People plan out when to say I love you?" I asked. "I just blurted it out at a weird moment and Mike went 'aaahhhhhhh...'"
"You didn't have to tell him that," Mike said.

After dinner we hit up a bar Sylvain likes a lot. It's funky, with a tiny room downstairs that sometimes hosts improv or standup comedy. "Light It Up" by Major Lazer was playing at one point.

"I forgot they play music like this," Sylvain said. He was less than impressed with this music.
"They play this song at some of the workout classes I go to," I told him.
"Oh yeah? Our gym too. I would go with Maeve. You have the... the dumbbells? And you do exercises like this." He demonstrated the exercises. Bicep curl, shoulder press, all in the same movement. "And the music pumps you up so everyone is very excited. It feels very fascist. Everyone is like 'yeah let's do this!' The music plays. We are all doing the same movements. So fascist."
The moment Sylvain called exercise classes fascist is the moment Mike fell in love with another man I literally watched it happen. And hey, I get it. I'm not even mad.

It's raining when we leave the bar. I asked Mike how he likes walking in Paris in the rain. He is so happy to be here.