My friends in the States are a bright bunch, but I was surprised to discover how few of them had considered the difficulty of Thanksgiving overseas. Though most realize that Thanksgiving is uniquely American, what with the history of pilgrims, etc., I find that there's a surprising lack of understanding regarding the food -- that is, nearly everything Americans eat for Thanksgiving feasts is indigenous to North America and not sold elsewhere in the world with any regularity. About the only thing Thanksgiving meals lack in terms of indigenous goodies is peanut butter and barbecue sauce.
And so began the quest for ingredients. There are a handful of "American grocery stores" in Paris, which usually manifest themselves as tiny boutiques that sell Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn, jars of peanut butter, bottles of Tobasco sauce, Jell-O, and a few other random items. There's a shop like this on the way to my art history class on Avenue Bosquet. Also in the city is "The Thanksgiving Store," which, if I understand correctly, is a year-round market that sells American decorations and various holiday goods, as well as food. The map on their website cracks me up.
So which items are difficult to track down, and how much do they cost? Good question. Here are a few.
Turkey. Most Parisians only eat turkey on Christmas Day, which they special-order from their local butcher. It's difficult to find turkey, especially a whole one, anywhere in the city without making a special request. However, every now and then you'll see a turkey breast or some sandwich meat in the grocery store. Not sure how much a whole turkey will set you back, but for a dinner party earlier in the semester, my friends and I payed 24€ for a rotisserie chicken.
Canned pumpkin. 4€ per can at an American market.
Sweet potatoes. 2€ each at an American market. I bought some in order to make my family's delicious sweet potato casserole, and the two that I found were probably the smallest, most pathetic-looking sweet potatoes I've ever seen in my life. Fortunately the casserole turned out okay.
Brown sugar. If someone can explain this one to me, I'd be grateful. How do the French not have brown sugar? I mean...it's in every good cookie recipe. You can easily find cane sugar in any grocery store, but not real brown sugar. A box will set you back about 3 to 4€ at an American market.
Condensed/evaporated milk. Available in any and all grocery stores.
Frozen/prepared pie crusts. Hah. You think the French would let their dessert be so easy? This is a country full of pastry chefs. I didn't see any pie crusts during my shopping, but I bet they have them at the Thanksgiving Store.
Stuffing. I rather love the Stove-top boxed stuffing that we have in America, I'm not going to lie. Not sure whether the French have the same concept of stuffing that Americans do, but I'm willing to bet that if they do, they make it themselves and it doesn't come out of a box.
Cranberry sauce. Can at American market: 4€.
While at Monoprix shopping for ingredients, I could tell who was American just by how intensely they were searching for things in specific aisles. I overheard some English and approached a young couple. "Excuse me. Are you shopping for Thanksgiving ingredients?" I asked. They seemed somewhat relieved and delighted to find someone on the same quest. I asked if they had found sweet potatoes anywhere in the city, which they hadn't. Holding a crumpled list in one hand, one of them asked, "Have you found pumpkin? Brown sugar? Cranberry sauce?" I gave them the address of the shop on Bosquet, and wished them luck. "Happy Thanksgiving!" they said as I walked toward the check-out.
I think I can safely say this Thanksgiving is the only time I will carry a casserole through the metro and down the streets of the Latin Quarter. Happy Belated Thanksgiving to all, or as the French like to call it, jeudi.
Coffee, tea, nargileh, and shesh besh at Café Meşale our first night in the city. They had musicians as well as a whirling dervish.
Breakfast and drinks across from the Blue Mosque, just before we went to the Aya Sofya. Ayelen asks Adis how to pronounce "water" in Turkish; Adis speaks Bosnian and as a result knows some of the words and pronunciations of Turkish. This clip makes me smile because Ayelen, a Spanish-speaker, is asking in English about the pronunciation of a Turkish word, yet she spells the word aloud using the French alphabet.
The call to prayer in front of the Blue Mosque. It's even louder than it sounds -- it woke me up every morning around 5am, and our hostel was at least half a mile away. It probably doesn't help that most of the mosques in the city broadcast (is that the right word?) their call to prayer at exactly the same moment.
Of course right after I made this video it started really snowing,
but whatever. It's very rare to see snow in Paris, and Alabamians are
forever impressed by even the tiniest bit (thus, this video). For those of you itching to hear me speak French, this one's for you.
Now I suppose I should get back to writing that paper...
Paris has a plethora of museums. The Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, the Rodin Museum, the Pompidou, the Picasso Museum, of course. But what others? I recently stumbled across Wikipedia's entry for all the museums in the city. I've visited some of the lesser-knowns, but have yet to see all the ones that interest me. Here are some that I've visited and some of the more unusual ones that I've yet to see.
Musée des Lettres et Manuscrits - Located in a townhouse from the 1600s, the museum displays original works by Descartes, Voltaire, Diderot, Stendahl, Flaubert, Zola, Verlaine, Nadar, Magritte, and plenty of other Frenchies. They also have some manuscripts/letters from Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, etc. See the Wikipedia entry for a full list.
Palais de Toyko - Not sure exactly what's in this museum, but I've walked past it many a time. It's very close to the Eiffel Tower, and I think the building in which it is housed serves as a kind of Japanese cultural center for the city. Looks very interesting.
The Catacombs - Paris's ossuary, which was primarily used during the years of the Plague, I believe. Essentially, underneath the city in a series of tunnels there are thousands of bones piled neatly on top of each other. If you visit the city during the summer, this is a great place to escape the heat.
Musée de la Poste - A postal museum that specializes in the postal history and philately of France. This one's high on my list, but I've yet to visit.
The Jeu de Paume - A museum of modern art not far from the Louvre. I don't know much about their permanent collection, but since September they've had two incredible photography exhibits: one of Avedon's work and one of Lee Miller's. I think they frequently host exhibitions of high-caliber photography.
The Gobelins manufactory - Not far from where I live, this is a small manufactory where tapestries are made. The Gobelins were a family of dyers who began business in the city in the 15th century. I believe tours are only offered in French, but a tour is the only way to see the actual manufacturing process -- otherwise, you can only see the show rooms.
Musée d'histore de la médicine - I've yet to visit this one, but I hope it's akin to Philadelphia's Mutter museum. It houses one of the oldest medical collections in Europe.
Musée de l'erotisme - Paris's erotic museum is located in the heart of the red light district, near the Moulin Rouge. On display are sculptures, figurines, toys, a few costumes and furniture, as well as a collection of drawings. Most interesting, perhaps, are photos of (if I remember correctly) the interior of an old Parisian brothel -- photos made on glass plates. Though they don't exactly compare to Bellocq's work, they bring it to mind. Though the museum has seven floors, one can easily see everything in about an hour, two for slowpokes.
Paris has been tucked under a cloud layer for what seems like weeks. Though that sort of Parisian weather is often quite pleasant, I miss the sun. It's becoming rather wet and wintery. I have frequently experienced what I now call "Parisian rain," which is a mist without origin or direction; umbrellas offer no defense. Often while wandering through the city during this kind of weather, I feel like a vegetable keeping fresh in the produce aisle.
As the semester finishes, the work load gets heavier. After tomorrow, I have only five days left with my class at the Sorbonne, which has come to rank high on my list of greatest educational experiences. Our final written exam is November 29th, and the oral follows a few days later. Paris will soon begin to empty of the people that have colored my life here. The first goes home Tuesday the 25th without funds to change his ticket to stay for the exam. The next few leave a week later, and with each departure a piece of what I have made here will begin to disappear. They will disperse across the globe like the plumes of a dandelion wish, taking with them the understanding of how I've lived my first few months of twenty-one. Some of them will blow too far to encounter again -- too far to see what grows where they land -- and others I may see again before the summer.
Among the emotions that arrive with impending loss comes a desire for the South that swells, pulsing each time I dream of forests or dirt roads. Though college has often separated me from my family for extended periods, I have never anticipated their embrace quite as strongly as I have this season. That troubles all of us in Paris, I think -- finding ourselves with two places at our fingertips without the ability to touch both at once.
I have not forgotten my promises to report on Istanbul. Finding time between homework, studying for exams, and a ten-pager on Diane Arbus has been difficult lately, but I hope to write again soon.
I've had a few Paris-centric tabs cluttering my browser for a while, so I figured I'd share.
Forvo is a site that collects sound bytes of countless languages, some of which I didn't know existed. As a native-speaker of your own language, you can record various words and phrases to add to the site's incredible library. Though I'd encourage you to poke around and listen to some Gaelic or Icelandic, or even some Esparanto, Forvo also has a large French library if you need to brush up. In the right panel of each page you can click tags to browse words by category. French, for example, has a "vins" category where you can learn how to pronounce all those fancy French wines.
Need a more structured way to learn French online? Check out Coffee Break French, a free podcast that covers the basics.
Things have been utterly nuts around here, lately. Last Friday I had my usual grammar test, then early Saturday I left for the south of France. I returned to Paris at 1AM Monday, waited an hour for a taxi, finally got to bed around 3:30AM, then left for class at 8:15. Add in an all-night election-watching session at a bar that evening, a nearly-impossible art history exam Thursday (I need to tell you horrendous stories about that class), an oral presentation on Southern BBQ in French right after, another grammar test today, and a flight to Istanbul early tomorrow morning, and you have some idea of why I haven't been hanging out with the internet lately.
So. Turkey. Since there's no class Monday or Tuesday, I won't be back until late Tuesday night, but I'm hoping next week will be significantly less crazy and I can get some substantial writing done.
