That might be an overstatement. I love Paris, but I would sure love some different weather. It's gloomy and gray pretty much every day, and occasionally drizzles a pathetic mist of rain, which seems to echo the general passive indifference of the Parisian people as a whole.
Having journeyed even farther down the path of being extremely anti-tourism, I sort of stopped going to museums because I found that I was generally bored and that I didn't get much out of it. From now on I'm attempting to spend more of my time doing things rather than seeing things, because just going to see something always wound up with me standing in front of the Eiffel Tower thinking, "Okay... now what?" So when I do go to places, I try to do so with a purpose of doing something, rather than going to just see it - like taking mass at a church instead of touring it. With all of this in mind though, I do kind of look forward to a time when I can return to the carefree luxury of being a tourist - not even pretending to speak the language, staying in a hotel and having all my meals prepared for me. (NB: I'm sorry for always giving you such a hard time about your love of nice hotels. God would I love a Heavenly Bed right about now.) Living in a new place for too long can make you feel like you are living outside of the Matrix, seeing the reality of life in that place, which, while enlightening, is also exhausting.
So my new philosophy is to try to live in Paris the same way I would live in Boston, or Anchorage, and do the sorts of things I would do anywhere as a resident: go to nice concerts or plays, see an occasional movie, spend an afternoon in a coffee shop with a good book, volunteer for a charity, go to a sporting event, do outdoor activities likes skiing or hiking, go shopping, take a class to learn something new, go out to eat at a restaurant (sometimes nice, but often not that nice, since I am, afterall, a closet Applebee's fan), hang out with friends. In real life I would rarely go to a museum, unless there was a particularly interesting exhibition going on (which, to be fair, there often is in Paris); I wouldn't go out of my way to see a historical monument, and instead always enjoyed that I walked past the Trinity Church on my way to work every day even though I never went in; and I would never, ever go to an art gallery or an exhibition of a contemporary artist.
And that is how I spent my week, as a resident of Paris. I really enjoy spending most of my afternoons reading and drinking tea at the window of a coffee shop, watching the Germanopratin (apparently the French word that refers to the people and places in St-Germain-des-Près) window shopping and fighting the wind with their flimsy umbrellas.
Most mornings I go for a run on a circuit that takes me from my apartment out towards the Champ de Mars, around the Eiffel Tower, and back down along the Seine past Pont Alexandre III (my favorite bridge in Paris, and maybe the world) and back home to Rue Bonaparte. Sometimes I bring my camera with me to try to capture the most beautiful moments of my quiet morning workout. To the right is the view off of Pont Alexandre III, and above is the very wintry looking Notre-Dame.On Friday I took a cooking class at the esteemed 
François Meunier Cours de Cuisine, taught by the fabulous French chef Olivier Berthé. Ooh, it was so much fun! The class lasted over four hours as the seven-person group collaborated to cook (and then, of course, eat) a delicious three course meal. Though it was advertised as being conducted in English, it was not, and forced me to learn not only new professional techniques (how to properly sautée onions, how to whisk Chantilly cream, etc.) but also a lot of new vocabulary in a foreign language. Everyone else there was local, mostly young, single people looking to improve 
their cooking skills, and it was an incredible challenge to try to listen to and understand everything going on in the instruction, not to mention the conversation at dinner. I found myself outside of my comfort zone once again, not only linguistically, but also with food, as we prepared all sorts of things that I wouldn't normally eat. The first course was diced chicken tarts made with olives and onions (on the right). Our main course was beef in a peanut and coconut sauce, with garlic sweet potatoes on the 
side. And for dessert we had a green tea and ginger custard, made with some sort of canned fruit called lychees, or maybe litchis, which I had never heard of before. All of it was amazing, and I learned a ton. Needless to say, perhaps, the cooking class was an expensive endeavor. The 100 euro admission sucked out two and a half days of my budget, and meant I had to have a very frugal weekend.
François Meunier Cours de Cuisine, taught by the fabulous French chef Olivier Berthé. Ooh, it was so much fun! The class lasted over four hours as the seven-person group collaborated to cook (and then, of course, eat) a delicious three course meal. Though it was advertised as being conducted in English, it was not, and forced me to learn not only new professional techniques (how to properly sautée onions, how to whisk Chantilly cream, etc.) but also a lot of new vocabulary in a foreign language. Everyone else there was local, mostly young, single people looking to improve 
their cooking skills, and it was an incredible challenge to try to listen to and understand everything going on in the instruction, not to mention the conversation at dinner. I found myself outside of my comfort zone once again, not only linguistically, but also with food, as we prepared all sorts of things that I wouldn't normally eat. The first course was diced chicken tarts made with olives and onions (on the right). Our main course was beef in a peanut and coconut sauce, with garlic sweet potatoes on the 
side. And for dessert we had a green tea and ginger custard, made with some sort of canned fruit called lychees, or maybe litchis, which I had never heard of before. All of it was amazing, and I learned a ton. Needless to say, perhaps, the cooking class was an expensive endeavor. The 100 euro admission sucked out two and a half days of my budget, and meant I had to have a very frugal weekend. Honestly, I don't mind so much. I was able to see anoth
er beautiful concert, this time with the Orchestre de Paris, for the student discounted 10 euros (this city is seriously great if you are under 26, they really take care of you). A couple of evenings I've just ended up hanging out at Dan's apartment, which always seems to have a crowd of American, French, German and Swedish ex-pats drinking copious amounts of wine and eating spaghetti with pancetta. I usually head home at around 1am, which is when everyone else is heading out to the exciting nightclub du jour, only to return to their rooms after the Metro starts running again at 5am (I was never enough of a night owl to get away with that).
er beautiful concert, this time with the Orchestre de Paris, for the student discounted 10 euros (this city is seriously great if you are under 26, they really take care of you). A couple of evenings I've just ended up hanging out at Dan's apartment, which always seems to have a crowd of American, French, German and Swedish ex-pats drinking copious amounts of wine and eating spaghetti with pancetta. I usually head home at around 1am, which is when everyone else is heading out to the exciting nightclub du jour, only to return to their rooms after the Metro starts running again at 5am (I was never enough of a night owl to get away with that). Last night I went to a very little, out of the way wine bar, that is famous for its nightly performances of traditional French chansons, Edith Piaf-style. It really was tiny, crowded and fun, and the band that played was completely crazy but really fun to watch. At one point they actually played one of my favorite old songs! You might not be able to hear it very well, as the English was heavily accented and the crowd was very noisy, but here is a little video clip of the performance:
And I still like to go out and explore little neighborhoods around Paris, visiting free exhibits when I can. Like Père Lachaise cemetery, were many famous Parisians are buried, but perhaps more interesting to watch is the constant flood of graying hippies parading by to pay their respects to Jim Morrison's final resting place. The free City of Paris museum is also kind of cool, mostly for their collection of centuries of Parisian store front signs - everything from a 16th century barbershop sign that has an enormous, functioning pair of scissors, to an early 20th century tea shop with a big, steaming copper kettle underneath the sign.
As I walked around the Bastille area on Saturday, I made perhaps my best discovery yet: a cupcake shop, so inconspicuous and out of the way you couldn't possibly find it even if you were looking for it, that had a special that day of Irish cupcakes! Mom, please take note: Guinness + flour + cinnamon = heaven. I will definitely be going back (if I can find it again)!
(Addendum: I have added some photos to previous posts, now that I have a reliable USB connection, so you can check them out below.)
