Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Amsterdam - it's cute as shit

Since I had last week off, I went to Amsterdam for a long weekend (that still feels really weird to say), and of course had an amazing time. And of course I am going to tell you all about it, but first I want to give a sort of overview on my thoughts of the city.



Let me tell you, it's adorable. First of all, we stayed in a boat which turned out to be a slightly glorified hostel. Despite some obnoxious English teenagers who woke all the passengers (yes passengers) up coming home at six in the morning, it was pretty awesome.  Our "cabins" were super small, but the claustrophobia forced us to spend time in the the lounge and see more of the city in spite of our sleep deprivation.

This the Avanti - our hotel/getaway boat if anything should go wrong.


Anyway, let me get back to the cute as shit part.  Everywhere you look in Amsterdam is beautiful. Okay maybe not the Red Light District, but then again, a fair amount of men find the lovely ladies in the windows to be beautiful too. For some reason I picture all of their clients being old Asian business men. I don't know why.

Yes, that is a cat sitting in the window of a small old house sandwiched between two big apartment buildings. Adorable.


I'm getting off track. All of the houses on the canals are stunning with their quaint painted bricks and huge windows. I'm seriously considering becoming a professional au pair, moving to Amsterdam, and taking care of some bratty Dutch kids who live in one of these amazing houses.




And there are the bicycles. Everywhere. There are literally parking lots just for bikes, but don't let that adorable tidbit fool you. At first you're like "oh my god it's so freaking cute that everyone rides bikes," and it is in fact a hipster's wet dream.  However give yourself twenty minutes in the city, and you will turn on those bikes faster than one of those prostitutes will climb on Asian business men. Every time you cross the street, you almost DIE. They seriously come out of no where!  I am sure that cyclists hate pedestrians just as much as I hate them.  We're probably pretty annoying while we're stupidly standing in bike lanes, staring at the coffee shops in utter amazement.



In case you are wondering, "coffee shop" is a euphemism for a place where you can buy weed and smoke it LEGALLY... and maybe buy some coffee too.


Here's another bike... just because.


Okay so this is my brief overview of Amsterdam.  I am realizing that it provides absolutely nothing useful, but I hope you enjoy the pictures. I will be posting suggestions of where to go, what to eat, drink, etc. along with some charming anecdotes in the next few days.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

A day at Père Lachaise

As some of you know, I am on vacation this week because the little girl I watch is staying with her grandparents in Versailles.  On Thursday I am going to Amsterdam, but until then my days completely free besides a few English lessons.  So of course, I am exploring Paris.

Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day that gave Parisians a small glimpse of spring - which was amazing and cruel at the same time.  I started out wandering through the Marais which was the intended subject of this post, but it turned into quite the disappointment because I wasn't aware that most independent shops are closed on Mondays. I don't think anyone wants to read about me walking through empty streets with nothing to do. Anyway, it was a pretty boring trip.  I decided instead to go to Père Lachaise, one of my favorite spots in the city.




Père Lachaise is a beautiful cemetery located in the 20th arrondissement and is home to many famous graves including Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf and Jim Morrison. However, I love taking a few hours to wander around aimlessly looking at the old, dilapidated graves of people whose families have long since forgotten. There is true beauty in the aging mausoleums, and, in my opinion, Père Lachaise is the most calming spot in the whole city.



Maybe it says something morbid about me that I love this cemetery so much. Dead people are quiet, and they can't judge you like so many Parisians do. I would love to sit and read a book on one of the old graves in a secluded spot, but I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon even if the person has been dead for a hundred years.



Every time I visit Père Lachaise, I always tell myself that I am going to come at least once a week. It's so much better than the parks in Paris - 1. it's much quieter 2. there generally aren't any children, not that I don't like them, but the sound of children's laughter loses its appeal when it's your job to take care of one and 3. there is real history here, and you feel like you are somehow a part of it.



I even found a black cat walking through the maze-like passage ways, and followed it for a good ten minutes. I guess it's good that I'm not superstitious because I assume that's at least fifty years of bad luck.


To anyone who will be visiting Paris, I definitely recommend hopping on the metro, and taking a few hours to explore this enormous cemetery.  On top of being absolutely beautiful, it's free! However, if you are looking for famous graves, I would suggest buying a map because they will be almost impossible to find without one.



Friday, February 14, 2014

Why I love that the French don't celebrate Valentine's Day

When you think of Paris, you think of the most romantic city in the world, so you would naturally assume that the French would be really into Valentine's Day.  Well, they're not.  And it's awesome.  Sure there are billboards in the metro advertising a nighttime Valentine's spa package (what?) and stores are trying to hype up the Americanized, fake holiday, but it doesn't seem like the trend is catching on.

You could make the argument that Parisians are romantic all the time, so a designated day to show your love seems bizarre, but I beg to differ.  Perhaps it's the tackiness that surrounds Valentine's Day that prevents the French from obsessing over it like Americans do or maybe they can't handle the pressure.  I don't know, but I like it. And here's why:

I don't have to buy any gifts
How did this get popular anyway? Why should anyone be obligated to give a gift to someone on a made up holiday that is supposed to sum up all the love they have for that person? As if buying a stuffed bear who's holding a heart that says "I love you," is sincere. It's really stupid. Living in Paris is expensive, and I definitely don't want to spend anymore money on pointless gifts.



I don't have to pretend to love the flowers I receive 
I know how inconsiderate and unappreciative that sounds, but it's true.  Last year the guy I was dating bought me four dozen roses. Four dozen! I know some girls would swoon over that type of gesture, but I just get uncomfortable.  When I receive a bouquet of flowers, I have to put a huge fake smile on my face and go on and on about how much I love them.  Then I am expected to put them in a vase and meticulously take care of them until they inevitably die.  The point I'm making is, when someone gives you flowers, that person already knows that their gift is going to die.  However, they still expect you to stress yourself out trying to keep that very gift, that everyone knows will end up in a landfill in the near future, alive for as long as possible.  Honestly, the flowers spend more time dead in that vase than they do alive because I am too lazy to throw them out. If you really love me, buy me a plant, preferably one that I can eat.



I won't get fat from the chocolates I get
I love chocolate, and there definitely will be no fake happiness in sight when I open that box.  That's the problem. Some people have the ability to eat one little piece of chocolate, savor it, and be done for the day, but not me. Most likely you'll find that empty box in my trash the next day, and you'll find me having an existential crisis about why I'm so disgusting. This year, no chocolates mean no self-loathing two days later.



I don't have to sit through an overpriced six course meal 
I love going out to eat just as much as the next person, but these special "Valentine's Menus" have gotten out of hand.  1. There are like seventy courses. I didn't know there could be that many parts to a meal.  2. You can only choose between two options for each course.  I'm an extremely picky eater.  Like no fish, no pork, no eggs, no onions, kind of picky.  Only have two options is pretty much my worst nightmare, and because I'm forced to eat that course, I usually order something knowingly fully well that I am definitely not eating that.



A day no longer defines my relationship
Since when has Valentine's Day become so important for a relationship? Now, if your boyfriend forgets Valentine's, it's grounds for a breakup and a night filled with Alanis Morissette singalongs.  Ladies, it's not your birthday, so you need to calm down a bit.  Also, the game you play where you subtly remind your significant other that Valentine's Day is coming up without actually telling him that he needs to plan a magical evening and buy you expensive jewelry, is really pathetic to watch. If you do celebrate V-Day, which by the way I'm not judging at all, why not just say "hey what do you want to do for Valentine's Day?" He is most likely going to answer with "uhh I don't know, what do you want to do" or "oh I haven't even thought about it." However, that does not mean that he has fallen out of love with you and has actually been planning how he can break up with you right before the big day, so he can get out of paying for your dinner. Please stop acting like there's a bigger meaning behind your significant other forgetting a made-up holiday.



After reading this, you might be thinking "oh this poor, sad single girl is feeling bitter and wants to let us know how much she hates love and happy couples," but I promise you that this is not the case. I am extremely happy in my relationship where I will not be celebrating Valentine's Day.

It is really nice living in a country where social pressures do not force couples to go through this bizarre ritual, and I am very much appreciative.

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Monday, February 10, 2014

Pan-fried Parmesan potatoes



As I have mentioned before, I do not have an oven in my apartment, so I have to make the most of my two hot plates.  However, this limitation has taken its toll on my addiction to potatoes and their carby awesomeness.  Naturally, I found a way to make crispy, delicious potatoes that are not deep-fried or boiled. I modified this recipe from one that I found on yahoo food, but mine is obviously way better.

To start, put enough olive oil in a frying pan in order to coat the bottom (a skillet is better, but I do not have one), but not too much because this will make the potatoes too oily.  Bring the olive oil to a simmer over medium heat. While you are waiting for the oil to simmer (it does not take long!) wash and halve about ten small fingerling potatoes.  If you have a bigger pan than I do, feel free to make as many as your little heart desires. Then sprinkle a layer of salt and pepper over the oil.

Add the potatoes to the oil with the cut side down and let them simmer at medium heat for about twelve minutes.  Be careful when you add them because I have burned myself quite a few times doing this.  Also, it is advisable to open a window if you don't have a fan above your stove as your kitchen (or in my case, my kitchen-closet-shower) will get quite smokey.  Today I was able to cook to the lovely sounds of taxi drivers protesting outside (the French love to protest... all the time... over everything).




After twelve or so minutes, bring the heat down to a low setting, and put a lid on the pan.  For the next twenty minutes you can waste time on Reddit (like I did) or watch stupid Youtube videos or whatever else you want to do because the potatoes will be just fine like this.  Oh but it's actually probably a good idea to chop your one clove of garlic in between videos.

After twenty minutes, add the finely chopped garlic to the pan as evenly as possible (this is pretty hard, so don't freak out about it).  Let the potatoes cook for about another two minutes.

Drain your potatoes using a colander, but keep your stove top on.  If the pipes in your building suck like mine do, put a pot underneath, so the oil doesn't go down the drain.  In case you're wondering what I do with the oil afterwards, I throw down the gutter outside my window like a freak.  Transfer the potatoes back into the pan, and put it back on the burner (or hotplate if you're so lucky).

Sprinkle (very generously) Parmesan cheese on top of the potatoes, and put the lid back on the pan.  The cheese should melt in about a minutes.  Also, if you're smart, you will "accidentally" spill some cheese directly onto the pan, so you get some nice burnt Parmesan with your potatoes.

Now you can just slide those bad boys onto a plate, add salt and pepper if you would like, and enjoy!




Ingredients:

  • Ten small to medium fingerling potatoes, the bigger they are, the longer they take to cook
  • Two tablespoons of Parmesan cheese (or more... lots more)
  • One clove of garlic
  • About two tablespoons of olive oil
  • Salt and pepper to taste

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Teaching English in Paris

I am currently teaching a few English lessons in Paris each week in order to make some extra cash and to gain some experience in teaching English as a foreign language.  So far, it has gone really well and has been interesting to say the least.

After I posted ads on the internet, the response was overwhelming!  I had no idea that so many people out there were looking to learn English especially since most people learn English in school here.

So I had my first English lesson which was a disaster.  Our plan was to meet at Ivry sur Seine at 8pm and to find a cafe where we could do the lesson.  First, I went to Issy val de Seine, a metro stop on the completely opposite side of the city.  Then after speaking with the student, I hopped on the RER to go to the correct stop (I had to buy a more expensive ticket for this by the way) not realizing that I had gotten on an express train to the suburbs of Paris.  As I saw my station pass me by, I started to panic.  What was going on? Where am I going?  I was already slightly uncomfortable meeting a complete stranger on the edge of Paris, at night, but my current situation completely elevated my anxiety.  I comforted myself by making a simple plan of getting off at the next stop and taking a train in the opposite direction.  However, we sped past the next stop... and the one after that... and three more after that.


At this point, I had lost all hope and thought I had entered the first circle of hell when the train finally came to a stop at Juvisy.  I made my way to the platform which would take me in the opposite direction.  For those of you who are not familiar with the RER in Paris, at night, it's not exactly the safest mode of transportation in the world.  I was forced to put on my big girl face and at least attempt to hide the fact that I was completely lost and that the only person who knew my location was a stranger who for all I knew, was planning to kill me, cut me up, and make a stir fry with my body parts


I finally arrived at the correct station, at 9:45 mind you, and met my student.  I found out that the only words he knew in English at this point where "hello" and "goodbye."  I realized that this was going to be difficult considering I have absolutely no experience teaching and that this was my very first lesson.  He then proceeded to take me to his apartment, which was not part of our agreement, claiming that he can't concentrate in noisy places.  This would have been nice to know beforehand, but he seemed like a decent guy, so I wasn't too concerned.

As previously explained, he had no knowledge of English whatsoever, and I think he expected to learn overnight.  The beginners lesson that I had prepared was entirely too difficult for him, and it was a struggle to get through just the vocabulary in an hour.  He continuously claimed that he wanted to work very hard, but he seemed distracted and impatient during the lesson.

After the lesson was over, he walked me to the train, and claimed that 20 Euro an hour was too expensive for him.  He asked me if I could give him a two hour lesson for the same price instead.  I actually heard myself say "yeah of course, no problem!" So I had just agreed to work for half the amount we had originally agreed upon for the student who would be the most difficult to teach. What an idiot.  This is probably why I didn't make it through a semester of business school.


So that's the story of my first English lesson.  I now have about four regular students whose lessons have been much more enjoyable than my first.  It's great because I actually have the opportunity to practice my French, especially with the beginners, and I am able to save for trips to other parts of Europe.