Belleville Spicy!

Mine is not the usual Paris experience. So far I have avoided the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and the Champs-Elysees. Most people try to, you know, seek them out, but I'll see them eventually. Instead I've hunted through the guidebook for terms like "unknown gem" or "worth the trip" as if a strong argument needs to be made for their attention. I have to say, the least impressive thing so far has been the one closest to the beaten path: the Cafe des Phares.

I suppose if I'd gone during one of the actual philosophy sessions it could have been better, but I just stepped in this afternoon, expecting to see students studying, or maybe a Kenny and a Jason arguing in a corner. Instead I saw tourists who had just stepped in expecting to see students studying, or unconventionally-haired young people arguing in a corner. It was, unfortunately, more like a four-dollar coffee nestled in a plasticine tourist trap.

What's awesome though? Weird little ethnic neighborhoods like Belleville. Riding the metro out to a new place is a thrill, and I suppose a little dangerous. The main streets of Paris suck -- they're crammed with cheap foodstalls, depressing little markets, and probably pickpockets, though I haven't had a single problem. Once you get off the main streets though, (R de Belleville/ R de Faubourg de Temple), you find art like this, and I found (with the help of my guide) a great Thai place (Le Krung Thep).



I stepped in not realizing that I might have needed a reservation as you apparently do for every restaurant in Paris for dinner. Fortunately, two middle-aged women had also ducked the reservation process, so I was given a table with them. We were told that we had to leave promptly at 21:30 because some nice people had made a reservation, so I ordered quickly. In my haste I ordered a green curry but forgot the rice. I mean, who knows what "Riz" could be? I had been told that in the exact moment a Parisian identifies you as a tourist, they will offer you something unnecessary. This is how I and several St Flour students ended up with five croissants at a cafe near Gare du Nord. Thus, the Riz must have been some ungainly thai cracker, so I said no as firmly as I could. Imagine her look of surprise when I stood up to her trickery like that! I was proud.

The women at the table got brave about halfway through the meal and started talking to me. We communicated back and forth with an amalgam of French, English, Spanish (by far the most effective!), charades, and Pictionary on my little notepad. They had a world map, so I showed them where Portland and Corvallis were. I explained to them that I was a graduate student in Mathematics, or at least some sort of information-based studier, and that my girlfriend worked as a Legislative Assistant to Speaker of the House, Dave Hunt, or at least that she was personal assistant to lowly-member-of-American-parliament Mavin Thunt. Did I mention how spicy the curry-soup was? I got hot tea too, though I don't remember ordering it. I could hardly pronounce anything!

What else is awesome about Paris? Wandering. I almost wandered right out of town before my spidey-sense started tingling at the sight of freeways and soulless residential complexes. But I also wandered to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont:



That's right, I found a beautiful park on something like 25 hectares (a hectare is 3 and a half cubits if you want to do the conversion) with a giant rocky spire, a temple on top of the spire, a moat around the spire, secret waterfalls, and narrow paths twisting through grottos of leafy green trees and shrubs. I bet it's one of the most dangerous places in the world after dark. Beautiful!

Lastly, here is a picture of my hostel. It's the building that looks like it's wrapped in electric tape, behind the drawbridge:



I don't know why they didn't advertise the drawbridge on the website. I might have paid more! The electric tape glows different colors at night, though. I think I know why they didn't advertise that.