Getting to know the Asylum

Once again, I'm back, and I've got the rest of the Bergerac in my Wine Expo glass. Oh yeah, that's right. Wine expo glass. Is that this entry?

Well, no, it's not. This entry is on Combs-la-Ville, but I figured I'd give a shout out to a future entry to sorta make sure that I don't forget it. So, without further ado, let's talk about where I live.

I live in a little town/banlieue called Combs-la-Ville (Aside: To any Combs-la-Ville officials who want to pay me to be their official blogger during my time here, I'll take the case.), which is located about 30 minutes south of Gare de Lyon on the RER D. It's out in Zone 5, and a lot of people, even in Paris, haven't necessarily heard of it. Honestly, rightly so- it's not like Orly or EuroDisney or Roissy, which have landmarks that make them somewhat memorable. Supposedly Combs has an old village that it was built around, but I haven't quite found that one yet.

Anyhoo, SLIDESHOW TIME!

Actually no. Let's just find some decent pictures. Not too many. I don't want this to become "OH LOOK AT ROB'S FISHING TRIP TO PODUNKTOWN! HE SURE CAUGHT A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING." That would be unfortunate.

Still, it'll probably happen. Here's hoping for walleye.

Wow that was a terrible joke. Let's just go to the photos and avoid more of this, shall we?

Yes, we shall.

Anyway, to start off, here's the kitchen where I work! Bev seems to be a believer in feng shui, but based on this picture, you may get the idea that she's not too solid at the practice yet. I... would tend to agree. Admittedly this is with the laundry rack hanging, but it's still not a bad idea of the space you've got to work with. Still, it's better equipped than a lot of my Parisian friends' kitchens.

I HAVE HEARD THE WHISPERED TALES OF IMMORTALITY. BLAH BLAH BLAH FROM AN ANCIENT BOOK I TOOK A CLUE.

Sorry, listening to Xanadu by Rush. Wonderfully light. But yes, it's well equipped kitchen, though it's sometimes interesting to reheat food- no microwave (not unusual) and very few saucepans with which to reheat my meals at times. Usually there's at least one though, so it works out. Anyhoo, enough of my culinary habitation- you get enough of that on the regalia posts.

This is a bit of graffiti on a concrete thing on a field near where I live. It gave the blog the rest of its name, because I thought that was a pretty clever play on words (Combs L'Asil or Combs the Asylum for the Frenchly-challenged), probably influenced by the fact that I was reading The Stranger in French at the time, wherein Camus uses "l'asile" for the home in which Meursault's mother lived. No, I won't call that spoilers because the book freaking starts with "Maman died today." OH NOES I SPOILED THE FIRST LINE.

Anyway, enough of that rant. Sweet lensflare, right? I'm sure we only really need that one picture of that block, right? No way it would become a running theme for the seasons or anything, right?

Right?

Yeah, you wish, wacky internal dialogue. Here's a picture of that same wall in the snow. Snow hasn't been too thick here yet (maybe a few inches and all, so a lot for the South, from where I hail, but not much for reasonable folk who have seen this strange white downpour from the sky. Usually it's been gray and cold with some sort of precipitation, be it mist or rain or blizzarding (but more on that later). Of course, that's basically the expected weather in this part of France for this time of year, so I mean, it works out decently, right?

Wait. No. No it doesn't. It just means I'm near Paris with mediocre weather, but THAT works out okay, because hey, Paris. Yeah, there should be another comma there. I apologize to my various relatives with degrees in English.

Still, there are some pretty decent parts of Combs. It just took me about a month to wander enough to find them, which is a shame. I mean, this street is on the main drag where there are a lot of the classically French shops- there's even a square with a boucherie and poissonnerie, which I didn't think would be around here until I found them. I still need to make it to these places- I tend to stick with the really cheap supermarkets, but it's a new year, so I might as well give it a shot, right? Aside from the fact that they were closed today, so I'll have to wait until soon to start shopping there.

Yeah. Look at that snow. One day, it just started to really come down, so I took the logical step and walked outside (bundled as best as I could muster) and took pictures rather than staying in the (somewhat) warm inside.of the house. About 10 minutes out of the house and I couldn't see anything out of my glasses thanks to snow accumulation. Yeah. It was ridiculous. Of course, you can't see much of the flakes there. But I'll see if I posted a picture with better pictures (and by posted I mean here, because I tend to post all the pictures and then write, and I can't remember just yet).

Oh yeah, that's right. I didn't put any sort of logical chronology here. So yeah, I was actually really surprised to find this view off the main drag- it proves that there are actually NICE parts of Combs. Admittedly, I discovered today that a lot of them have more or less guard dogs, which is annoying when you're just trying to walk around out there. But that's just off a few side streets. And I guess that with the reputation what Parisian banlieues have (that's right, I used "what" like an old fogey), that's not too unreasonable. Still annoying to get barked at constantly.

Of course, I don't live anywhere that nice. In fact, I live in an HLM (Habitation à Loyer Modéré, AKA Projects). I didn't actually know this until a few weeks in- it's not a bad setup for me, honestly. I've got my room (which I really should clean sometime, but probably not tonight because I need to get some sleep somewhat soon), a kitchen with an oven, and Internet access. So what if Bev and Bev Jr (for whom I'll remember a clever name eventually) yell a fair bit? It's funny to hear them try to yell via whispers when Í'm trying to sleep.

And now we're back to the snow. Hooray! You can actually sorta see the snowflakes if you squint. This is actually the streeet I live on, AKA The Road of The Sulky Frigate, which would be a great song title or band name (patent pending). Yeah, it's a bit of a walk to a bus station, but nothing too unreasonable. Heck, getting to the train station is just 20 or 30 minutes walking, which seems like not too bad for a suburb. Plus, I get some exercise (that I don't necessarily want after a night out at bars) when the buses aren't running. And it's sorta pretty with all that strange white blasphemy coming down.

As for the rest of Combs, well. I did initially ask my landlady if the area was safe. Her response was that of course it was! And honestly, she hasn't been too wrong- I don't feel too unsafe walking home early in the morning, though I do tend to make sure no one's following me or anything anyway- heck, I did that in Davidson. Still, the past few weeks have left me a bit more doubtful. For example, there's this, which is the charred remains of a motorcycle/dirtbike/scooter/something on two wheels with a motor, right by a playground on the way to my bus stop. Not sure what happened, but it seemed worth a picture. Then, when I got back from Munich, I found that the Société Générale branch near where I live (which gave me a lot of trouble for opening an account, which is why I went elsewhere) had gotten broken into. As in, the glass pane on the door was shattered and it looked like maaybe some arson had occurred. I didn't take too close of a look, especially since now there's a guard dog chained to the door. I'll try to get a picture of that over the next few days maybe.

Anyway, I think that works as an update for Combs for now. Gives an idea of the scenery and all that. Not a terrible place, and though a bit sketchy in some places, there's still bits I need to explore a bit further. I also need to get a damned library card so I can start reading. I've got only a few books, and I've read through most of them already. Even A Wrinkle in Time, which I thought was extremely overrated and just poorly written. But I shouldn't end the blog on that sort of negativity, right?

Right.

I'm sure Madeleine L'Engle has many redeeming qualities.

And Bev Jr. just walked in. I suppose I should brace myself for the shouting soon.

Ah, family life.

Getting a bit punch drunk

Okay, the screen is getting a bit blurry. I'm having trouble clearing my eyes. But I just dropped some mad business on facebook chat, business being ridiculousness (ridiculosity, if you will, which I will, but you don't have to- free country and all, unless you're not from the States/other countries with similar provisions regarding speech). So let's talk pie.

But first let's talk New Year's resolutions. I've got a bunch. I'll probably do a whole post on things I want to improve about myself in the New Year. But the big one that I've wanted to do is to bake at least one dessert every two weeks. And since I was out of town for New Year's proper, I figured I'd make something beforehand. So I give you....

The Bavarian Apple Torte/Tart With Streusel Topping AKA... Dammit I had a good nickname for this that I forgot. I'll let you know when it comes back. Anyhoo, pictures and recipe time! Also terrible caption time.

CAN'T TELL THE PROGRAM WITHOUT YOUR PLAYERS:

Okay, here's a weird sort of idea of the ingredients- I didn't get a right proper picture of them, because there were quite a few, and I was catching my train out to Munich that night. Thankfully Bev wasn't there or I'd have been even more stressed. BUT! Here's what I can gather are ingredients from my cooking notebook. It's kept sorta like a lab notebook, but with those super technical and precise terms like "eyeball" and "to taste." So!

Flour-185 g
White sugar-130 g
Brown Sugar-120 g
Vanilla-1.5 tsp
Butter (I used half salted for crust, unsalted for streusel)-50 g unsalted (cold), ~115 g half-salted (softened)
Petit Suisse (basically a cream cheese substitute)-240 g (about 8 oz), softened
Egg-1
Gala apples-4 (peeled and cored)
Cinnamon- To taste/Eyeball
Sliced almonds- Recipe called for half cup; I eyeballed it

THE CITIZENS OF CRUSTY-TOWN THANK YOU:

To the crust! The initial recipe I was using said to use a springform pan. I could not find a springform pan. The pie still worked out wonderfully. So use what you want. Anyhoo. For the crust, I took:

125 g flour
50 g white sugar
25 g brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla

and mixed all that in a bowl. Then, I eyeballed the salted butter (hence the ~ up top) and mixed it together. I then pressed it into the pie pan as best I could (new at this pie crust thing) and worked it up the sides a bit. And doesn't it look just wonderful!

...

You didn't have to answer that if you didn't have anything nice to say.

CREAMY GOODNESS ALL UP IN YO BOWL:

This pie also calls for a delicious layer of creamy goodness. This got a bit tricky on the recipe, mainly because cream cheese proper is hard to find in France. But I heard that there were some types that subbed well, so I tried this Petit Suisse thing (and now need to find a way to get rid of another 500 g of it). Seemed to work pretty well, so there you go French readers. All few of you.

Anyhoo, recipe!

I took:

1/2 tsp vanilla
240 g Petit Suisse, softened
40 g white sugar
10 g brown sugar

And mixed the heck out of it in a bowl. Then, I added one egg and mixed that in quite something fierce. I almost said thoroughly, but I thought this was getting a bit too formal. Formal don't fly here right now.

HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES:

And on to the apples! I peeled and cored those 4 gala apples and then sliced them reasonably thinly. I like cutting things thinly. Makes me feel like a man.

I probably shouldn't have typed that last bit.

Anyway, I took those apples, threw them in a sauce pan, and added:

40 g white sugar
30 g brown sugar
and Cinnamon to taste (well, smell really)

Then, I heated everything up in the saucepan and stirred things around to get the apples nice and coated and a bit tender. I added some more cinnamon in the process. Also, around this time, I heated the oven to T7, which is 210/230 C, which is around 450 F, which is around 485/500 K. That's right. I like me some Kelvin scale.

COL. LANDA WOULD BE PROUD:

With the rest of the pie (i.e., everything for the initial recipe) in play, I started on the streusel. Sweet, delicious streusel.

I used:

60 g flour
55 g brown sugar
Dash of cinnamon

And I mixed that in a bowl. I then cut in some of that cold, unsalted butter (50 g, cubed) and mixed some more.

ALL TOGETHER NOW/COOKING UP THE PLAN:

And now that everything was made, I started to put things together. That's how we rolled in the Striplin lab, and that's how I'ma roll in this kitchen. So remember that delicious cream stuff? Oh yeah. That got poured right the eff over that crust. Except for what stayed in the bowl and contributed to what will probably develop into diabetes, but it was totally worth it. Pure delicious.

Then, I slid the apples onto the cream filling. I started making it all presentable, but honestly, I was feeling a bit pressed for time (packing and meeting some people before I headed off to Munich and Passau for New Years), so by the end I was just sorta dropping them on where there was space. And then I started to add streusel before remembering to actually take some pictures.

And there you have the streusel all added atop that deliciousness. Right before it goes into the hot, hot oven in that hot, hot kitchen. As for time, you keep it at T7 (all that other noise) for 10 minutes before dropping it to T6 (AKA 400 F, 200 C, 475 K) for another 25. And then we'll get to the next stage. But that's coming up!

And there it's cooking. Look at that streusel tan. Yeah, I didn't want to align this picture anyway.

And there's the pie done with its first stage! Probably would be a bit less crispy on the sides with a springform, but that's what I get for not being able to find one in France and going with nonstick.

SOMETIMES YOU FEEL LIKE A NUT:

So now that the pie is initially baked, you add some almonds. You basically just throw them on, because damn is that oven hot, and maybe your landlady doesn't seem to have proper oven mitts, so you're trying to keep from burning any towels or anything. And yeah, they got eyeballed. But it's not un-pretty, right? Right?

Touché.

And basically you let the almonds chill there until they go brownish. I didn't really keep the pie centered enough, so I didn't get a very even heat on the almonds, hence the burningness around 1 or 2 o'clock.









URNF (AKA That noise you make when you're eating something that's still really hot but so delicious that you don't want to spit it out or do anything to save your slowly crisping tongue):

So I had initially baked this pie as sort of a thank you to the landlady and the daughter and all that for putting up with me. But then I got it baked and it looked like the above picture, and I was just like dayum. That's a fine pie.

So I carved myself out a little piece before bolting out the door. Not a big one, mind.

But it was gone pretty quickly. It was basically as delicious as it tasted.

And as for the aftermath...

Well, I made the pie on December 29, 2010. I got back into town January 3, 2011. There were MAYBE 2 small slices that had been taken out. Bev said she liked it but that it was too heavy (I think French pies are too light, so whatever). She also insisted on calling it a cake- I haven't bothered correcting her, since I suppose the French might use the terms differently, and their word for pie is "tarte," which would imply a lack of top crust. She also also apparently had a food bug that kept her from eating more of it. As for Bev, Jr., she apparently not only wasn't a fan (had one slice), but also (according to Bev) said that I didn't/couldn't have made the pie.

So for future baking, I'm thinking the teachers at my school may have some benefits. And of course, other assistants out here. Until I'm back in the States, when it's a whole new ball game.

To sum up: Rob made a deliciou apple pie that America is all about, and the French weren't huge on it. Ergo, the French hate liberty and freedom.

Sweeping generalization for the win? Possibly so.

ANNECY HAPPENS NOW After I talk about the GREs

Okay, I'm one post into my blogstravaganza (patent pending) tonight, and I clearly haven't had enough wine. But I don't want to use all of it tonight, so I'm making do. I guess the next logical post (screw it, I'll follow a somewhat reasonable chronology for this) would be Annecy.

AND IT HAPPENS NOW. (See, this is what happens when you get Rob writing at all, much less with wine.Caps Lock (had to see if there was a space in it) and parentheticals happen. ALL. THE. TIME.) (Well, not all, that would be an exaggeration, but you can probably see why Rob was able to dig on what he got through of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and Douglas Adam's body of work.)

Around mid-October (maybe after the Nuit Blanche? Let's assume after to avoid the embarrassment of having said Rob would follow a reasonable chronology and discovering he was lying.), I went to Annecy! Why Annecy? Well, first off, I love me some French Alps. I really would have loved to have been placed in/around Annecy for the people, architecture, and scenery, but I'm glad I got to be in Paris, because I really like a lot of the assistants around here. And I'm tangenting again. No, I don't ramble. I just tangent. Repeatedly... But I digress/tangent.

Anyhoo, the other and honestly more important reason for going to Annecy specifically is because Lindsay "FrauBrow" Brownell was going there with her Swiss Semester kids. Kelvin Bates (of The Nuances fame) also came up, and although he said he would, Ben Riffe was unable to make it. But I don't really know Ben, so it worked out nicely for a Davidson reunion. And I took a TON of pictures, all of which are up on my facebook (http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/profile.php?id=9421694- friend me if you like) and my Picasa Web account (http://picasaweb.google.com/rbcameron3), and hold on my parents are calling on Skype so I can find out my Chem GRE results.

Okay, so the Chem GRE results are in! And I suppose I'll break chronology to talk about the GRE and add a bit to the title to reflect that change. So! I took the Chem GREs in France. There's a GRE site waaaay up north in Paris, and the guy who runs it is a total jerk. I think he was a New England transplant to Paris, but he was clearly unhappy with his job either way. He refused to speak anything other than English when giving priority instructions (even though he spoke French reasonably well) and was generally a pain. But hey, that's what the Subject GREs are all about, right? Pain and suffering. Anyway, I felt pretty good about the GRE, and I ended up scoring an 860 (90th percentile), which is great if I decide to do just a PhD while those scores are still valid. Unlikely, but hey, things like that can happen.

And back to Annecy after that sojourn into pain, suffering, and chemistry. Anyway, the reason why were actually there was teh Alpenage festival. For those of you not in the know about Alpine farming habits (I hear they're famous for their nuts), the Alpenage is when the farmers bring their animals/herds back down from the pastures in the mountains down into the barns and fields closer to home. Most cities might have a little parade or something. Not Annecy. Annecy brings every shopkeeper, every artisan, every giant horn-blower, every animal, and every bit of cheese or apple in a 10 mile radius into the city center for a delicious smelling festival. And the apples are made into cider. Delicious, unpasteurized cider.

Let's take a journey though pictures, shall we? Also Grace is totally IMing me right now and I'm trying to keep a flow, but she's quite awesome and will get some of my attention. Sorry blogosphereotopia!

Anyway, pictures?

Yes. Pictures.

Oh you wacky hostel dwellers.

First off, the hostel. It took some doing, but I DID find a hostel in Annecy, i.e. the only hostel in Annecy. It's a FUAJ one I think, and it's cheapish if you've got a FUAJ card, which I didn't. But they were out of cards, so I couldn't buy one even though I totally would have, and as a result, they gave me the FUAJ rate. Good story, right? But it gets better! After the Parisian hostel experience, I wasn't expecting much, so I left my computer at home to discover that the hostel was PHENOMENAL and had free Wifi. There was also a great continental breakfast (wonderful for working off hangovers when, say, you've had most of a bottle of red wine the night before), and it was super spacious. The only two complaints I had about the place were 1.) it was hard to get to. You had to walk up a hill on a pretty steep (30 to 45 degree) incline to get up there. Since Annecy is a skiing town, I can't imagine what it's like in the winter for backpackers, much less cars. The other one was that it was so spacious that it was hard to meet people. Granted, I was only there for a night and was meeting friends down in town, so that one might not be the best assessment, but it's what I saw.

Another funny story about the hostel! So I get there on the first day and wander into the kitchen, because I brought some snack food (fruit, cheese, bread), not expecting a full kitchen to work with. I feel a bit curious and decide to explore. And by explore, I mean see if the stove burners are on. And by see if the stove burners are on, I don't mean check the dials. Nor do I mean put the back of my hand a reasonable distance away to check the heat. No. I mean stick two fingers on my left hand (I'm left-handed) on each burner in succession to find that the one with the tea kettle was actually on and get two ridiculous 2nd degree burns on my fingers. But they're healed now, so it's groovy.

Anyhoo, I got to Annecy and started to explore that night/meet FrauBrow and co. for drinks. I did see a bunch of rollerbladers around city hall, but I couldn't get a good picture, so you'll have to settle for these pictures of Annecy's canals. If that's a problem, then please dial 382-5968 for a refund.

A nice side street

A main drag of restaurants and cafés

So after a good night's sleep and that wonderful breakfast (Cocoa puffs, toast, milk, etc), I headed out for the festival! And what a festival it was! For example, there were horns!

Everywhere. I cut the pictures down to a minimum on this, but if you look on the Picasa and the Facebook, you'll see that they. Were. Everywhere.

But for now they're right here, along with Kelvin who didn't know I was there yet.

And of course, since it's a festival about cows, you need more cowbell. And boy howdy was there. Possibly more than you needed.

False. No such thing as too much cowbell.

And honey. But more than that, your basic Nicolas Cage repellent: THE BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES.

Thankfully not stinging my face. But I'm not punching women while in a bear suit.

And like most French open air things, there's this delicious stew. I wish I could make this delicious stew. I think they put it on sandwiches, but I would totally eat that straight. I can't really tell what's in it other than sausage and spices and probably onions and garlic, but I can say that it's absolutely delicious smelling. One day I'll actually try it. One day...

You tell 'em, Rob.

You also have your basic absurd amounts of meat. Wait. Why am I not doing this exposition in captions? Oh wait, because captions are groovy but they can cause issues and I can't remember what they are. Clearly I need more wine. Be right back as I get some maybe. Shouldn't, and actually I won't. Take that, liver!

Aaaand your basic folk-singers. There were yodelers and accordian players- I don't think there were any yodelers in this picture, but there's the accordian guy. And everyone is playing these slappy percussive instruments and dancing. It... was not as good as the food.

This gets captioned. I will leave you centered and caption you. The geese are supposedly in bowties for the parade, but we missed that part of the parade. Alas and alack, right? Right.

And more importantly than any of the other animals and such was, of course, the cider. The delicious, delicious, delicious, unpasteurized, got carbonated on the train ride home but was still deliciious, cider. Here's me with the cider. Also, this apparently shows how unhealthily I was eating the first month here? I don't really see the sunken cheeks people are talking about, but maybe I'm just in denial.

Or focused on that receding hairline.

And there's a picture of the prison and the canals in the daytime! And also the absurd amount of people at this thing. Seriously. You could barely move in some parts. Still, the cider and free samples from the cooking school made it totally worth it.



This would have been a caption, but that would have been stupid.

 Pies. The French can do pie in a very appetizing way, but they always seem a bit light for my taste. Speaking of pie, I"m going to reward myself with some once I've got this blog a bit more caught up. I would do it once it's totally caught up, but man, it's late. I had a 14 hour bus ride with a French dick who thought it was okay to crush my legs with his seat. And then I didn't get enough sleep last night. And then I taught today. I'm tired and will sleep. But I will have pie before I go to bed, because Bev is worried about it spoiling (not as if she's helping with the eating much, because apparently it's too heavy for her sensitive French tastes. This will go into a future Oh Bev, but I'll throw the tag on for the heck of it.), and it's too delicious to spoil. But the pie pictures will go up tonight!

And here are some pictures of the crowd and the parade. Wait.

Wait.

The flow is gone for a bit. Let me get it back. I can so do better than what I just did. Also the wine is done from my glass. Saaad day.

Okay, let's get this flow back. Mafia Wars is always good to numb the brain for a bit.

So after a day of wandering, FrauBrow, I-Got-A-Fever-And-The-Only-Cure-Is-More-Kel-Bell, and Yours Truly, The Insane Nicknamer and Blogger Who's Probably Not Reaaally Insane But Who Can Tell These Days Anyway And Where Are the Hyphens And Why Is The Capitalization Not Consistent went out to the parade. Probably a bit later than we should have- we had wonderful coffee with gummy gators...

I feel like we named the gators. Did we name the gators?

... and it was groovy, though pricey. But hey, Annecy. But we got to the parade and found this:

Pictured: This.

Thankfully, some people did end up moving, so we were able to shift up and get some good pictures. Such as these!

What? Nine-Cowsand?

But wait! There's more!

Christmas? A humbug, uncle?

Yeah, those captions subtle enough for you? I thought so. BECAUSE I READ SHIT. Ooops. There's another swear. And an irrational one at that. We'll see if I can actually get those pie pictures up. I hope I can. Eep.

But then we've got some nice couple shots.

Frau Brow and IGAFATOCIMKB

Whatever the long nicknames were and Rob's fanny pack birthing a cider

Don't judge the fanny pack. It has swallowed up greater men than thee.

And before my sanity slips tooooo much more, let's leave with a nice picture of the mountain by Annecy (taken from the Annecy park).

That's right. Soooooothe the crazy.

All in all, a fabulous Davidson reunion in Europe. If only there had been more cider to take home...

Okay that's a crappy way to end the post. We can do better than that? We can do better than that.

Okay, maybe I can't. I'm getting a bit groggy and such. We'll end with the thought of the upcoming entry on pie. Nothing can beat that.

NOTHING.

Okay, let's do this: Meh, could do holidays, but let's start with Nuit Blanche

Give me a moment- I'm working through some Bergerac (totes dece) and trying to figure out what I've said on here already. I'm sorry for the absence- that will get explained via some updates as soon as I feel like I should get to that one. (Long story short- New Year's in Germany. But you'll totally get the long story once I get to that post.)

Anyhoo, I think I'll start with Nuit Blanche. "Why, what is Nuit Blanche?" you're probably asking. "Is it the hip new band that all the youngsters are listening to? Is it Cloak and Dagger's evil twin (triplet?)?" No, true believers. Nuit Blanche is a night where lots of things (museums, metro, etc.) in Paris are open "really late." See, Nuit Blanche means "all-nighter." But as someone who has actually done all-nighters (enough to hallucinate that one time in Reason and Argument- I still say those weird red worms were on the chalkboard and McKeever just couldn't see them), I can tell you that the Parisian standard is a bit low. I mean, they were done by like 3:30 AM. What is this? Not an all-nighter, that's what. But enough about my elitism about all-nighters (to say nothing of my general elitism, to which I'm sure many can attest). Let's get on with the show and the pictures!

The lovely and inimitable Grace Wang and I met up on this year's Nuit Blanche. Grace opted to meet up with an assistant named Suzie. And well... we met up with Suzie. And some of Suzie's Moroccan friends studying in Paris. They were reasonably cool, and were nice enough to offer us drinks, but everyone except Grace and I had already done a Nuit Blanche, which I think contributed to the fact that we stayed in that... not gonna swear despite the wine... darned apartment for about 3 hours before going out. As a result, we didn't get to do nearly as much as I would have liked. Moral of the story: if you're doing a Nuit Blanche one time, make sure you have a plan before you go out. Anyway, I'm not bitter about that. Not at all. But I'll show you some pictures. Why it's a but rather than an and or a so or even a lack of conjuction, and why I didn't use quotation marks for those various words is beyond me. But I have pie once I finish these blog posts, so I'll try to keep this flowing and growing.

So our first big stop was Sacré Coeur. We took some pictures there. I don't think I got a good shot of the view from there, but it was pretty nice. Let's roll those pictures!

Pretty church.



The pretty church (Sacré Coeur for the attention-challenged) again.



Me, Suzie, and Grace. We're smiling because we haven't realized how early everything will close. WHOOPS SPOILERS.

Oh wait. Found one of the view.

Not a great one, mind you.

And then we wandered a bit. I took pictures of it because damn was it stereotypically Parisian. Oh whoops. Swore me a cuss there.

But so Parisian that the cuss was worth a swore.

That one, not so much. Let's see if we can't do better, shall we?

Oh that's a bit better. A for effort I suppose.

We then went to the Palais de Tokyo, which was a major disappointment- there were about two rooms open, and it was modern art, so they were pretty sparse. Then, the Moroccans and Suzie decided to bail to sleep, because they know nothing of all-nighters. I mean come on. This was at like 2 AM. If that. Come on guys. Man up.

Anyway, Grace and I came across someplace across from Palais de Tokyo. We were attracted by the flashing lights. And here's a picture of the light not flashing! But seriously, it was. You can totally trust me on that fact.

If you want to simulate the flashing, blink at irregular intervals. Also try to take a picture in the meanwhile. Fun for the whole family! Unless epilepsy is around.

There was also a statue there. It was hard to get a good picture with the flashing chandelier, let me tell you.

Ah, Naked Dude in Pelt. Not his real name, most likely, but I'm trying here.

And around this point, everything started to close, but Grace and I didn't know that, so we wandered over around Musée Rodin and whatever is over there. Musée d'Orsay and other stuff. Maybe the Louvre? It smelled good at least- food vendors were still in full force, though we did not partake. Hélas! Anyway, here is a groovy picture of the Seine.

Okay, C for effort this time. Seriously man, keep your hands steady.

And there's also a government building whose name I cannot recall. It's an important one though. Note to Dr. Sutton if he's reading this: I totally paid attention in Contemporary France. My test scores will however reflect that I do not have the mind to recall who lives where and works where in Paris. Condolences.

Nor do I know the laws Mitterand passed between 1980 and 1981.

Pretty, innit? Anyhoo, around this time, EVERYTHING was closed. We made it over to the Champs-Elysées, not knowing that everything (including metro) was closed, but hey, we tried. We basically sat in a metro station for a couple of hours while Grace tried to sleep a bit. I then tried and failed to get my Navigo bought, because the offices weren't open when they said they would be. Hooray for Paris.

Seriously, better times have been had. Once again, if ever doing a Nuit Blanche for the first time, please plan ahead. You don't have to stick to it too seriously, but it at least means you'll have a reason to leave a bunch of Moroccans' apartment rather than spend most of your time there.

Not that I'm bitter.