American Gothic Parisian-style

And it ends with a bang!  After a solid month of weekends with friends, playtime is over.  Now begins the countdown to both the Paris Marathon, my two week trip back to the U.S.  Not to mention the fact that major steps need to be taken towards knocking out my dissertation.

However, before all that craziness begins, it's time to take a look back on another magnificient weekend in Paris.

My dear friends from Lyon arrived right in the middle of my busiest day of the week, and thus, I was unable to greet their arrival and accompany them during their first hours in the capital.  However, being the autonomous beings that they are, M and A managed to entertain themselves just fine without me.  When our paths did finally cross in Saint Mandé, it was wonderful to be able to welcome them to my French "chez moi", and return the favor of hospitality.  I have now lost count of the number of times I have taken up residence in their living room in Sainte Foy.  

The next day, Marlène and Alix were able to enjoy a lazy Friday morning, while I headed out the door just as the sun was rising to finish out my week.  With morning classes, afternoon tennis, and an early evening nap, it was not until around 7 that the three of us we able to meet up again and truly kick off the weekend.

In grand American-Parisian style, we met up on (or near) the Champs-Elysées at one of the many exits of the Franklin D. Roosevelt metro station.  Our search for a bar led us just a few streets from the French Presidential residence to the intersection of FDR and rue de Ponthieu.  After about 15 minutes of indecision while waiting for our server to resurface after seating us, the weekend had officially begun with two fruit juices, shaken and twirled spectacularly through the air by our houdini of a waiter, and a glass of rosé. (I know, living on the wildside!)  But the Ponthieu served more as a short meetup with siblings and friends before heading out to the evening's main event: authentic Mexican food at Anahuacalli in the 5th arrondissement.

This was not your average Tex-Mex.  In fact, there was nothing average about our evening among these Mexican ex-pats.  In great conviviality, eight of us, three Americans and five French, enjoyed pitchers of margaritas, chips and salsa, delicious main courses of mole, enchiladas, and fajitas, and strong, liqueur-filled coffee.  Unlike Mexican (Tex-Mex) restaurants in the States, this one was not promoting the chip-and-dip/salsa culture.  For a table of 8, we received two small bowls of chips (maybe about 15 chips per container) and two sushi-soy sauce size mini-bowls of red ("non-spicy") and green ("spicy", it's all relative) salsa per bowl of chips.  I tend to be of the "chips with my salsa"school as opposed to the "salsa with my chips" one, so I was a little disappointed by the miniscule serving, and the reluctancy of the servers to refill the two tablespoons of salsa that filled each of the bowls.  That being said, they could not be accused of causing us to spoil our appetite and thus, our enjoyment of delictable morsels that were to come.

Over dinner, there were a few words about an earthquake in Japan, the extent of the damage, none of us could have imagined until we began watching video footage posted on the internet in the days that followed.

The next day, we skipped the morning in favor of the afternoon (although I did manage to see the last minutes of the AM with 45 min run).  The object of our outing represents the next step in my ongoing love affair with the Château de Vincennes.  Like a new crush, I have been admiring the Château for some time now, but mostly from a far.  During my first months in Paris, I would catch a glimpse of the flag and the top portion of the dungeon's tower peeking out from behind the trees while running or biking through the woods to go to tennis.  Exhibit A gives you an idea of my initial sightings of the Château albeit from much closer up:

So as to be a bit more neighborly and decrease the physical and affective distance between me and my crush, I began to cirle the path around the Château a part of my running route in a sort of "march around the walls of Jericho"-type rhythm; although I'm sure I made it around the castle more than 7 times!

 

 Lacking the courage (and equipment) to send the walls crashing down with the blow of a ram's horn, I sought the go ahead "thumbs up" from my friend Kelly before finally taking the next big step and finally crossing the threshold past the Château's outer defences:

And in we go!

This is actually the front - we went in through the back door.

Once again, lacking the gumption to go it alone, I brought Alix and Marlène along for the inaugural visit.

  Clearly they loved the castle as well for they say that imitation is the highest (and perhaps most sincere) form of flattery.  

 

I've still got a little work to do...

Dungeon

La Saint Chapelle

Post-promenade play in the Parc Floral de Paris

Simon and Garfunkel, anyone?

Mlle Courbon

 

Finding no place for myself in "Parc Floral de Paris", I was feeling a little "lo"

To be continued...

 

Coming soon! Le marathon de Paris (April 10 : 8h)

On a pris la Bastille! (And I got beat by a walker!)

Well, he didn't bash me with his water bottle or nail me with his swinging hips, but he did cross the finish line before I did. The speed walker (from Ireland?) beat my 1:41:54 half marathon time, which means he was walking faster than 4:50min/km or 7:47min/mile.

Despite that small moral defeat, the race was a success. Having "carbo-loaded" with some friends in the 20th arrondissment on Saturday evening, Kelly and I went back to my apartment and prepared for the big day.

Since my "goal race" is actually the Paris marathon on April 10, my training schedule indicated that I actually needed to run 20 miles, 7 miles longer than the race distance. So, with Kelly still in bed, I went out for a slow 35 min warmup run. In addition to helping add to the day's mileage, the early morning jog also gave me a chance to gage the weather and figure out the appropriate race attire. My anticipation of the race also grew with all the buzzing in the streets while volunteers worked on final preparations before the 10am start. (My apartment is just down the street from the start and finish lines.)

After returning to the apartment and consuming my standard pre-race peanut butter and banana bread, Kel and I headed out to the starting area in search of some method of affixing our numbers to our t-shirts.
Since the race committee hadn't put safety pins for the bib numbers in the runner's packets, we were left to fend for ourselves. I'm not sure if they were handing them out at the runner's expo and we just missed it, or if the organizers realized after the Friday pickup that they should provide them during the Saturday packet pickup, but clearly many people had their safety pins. We worked our way through the crowds to inquire about where we might acquire these "épingles". The first groups of people just gave us a pitying look and said they had brought them from home. Finally, we stumbled across a group who said they didn't have any more pins, but that we could borrow their sewing kit. And sew we did. Rather than use the typical holes in each corner designated for the pins, Kelly and I affixed the bibs to each other's outerwear with one stitch on the top and one on the bottom. We must have looked pretty pathetic and desperate because a lady walked by and offered us an extra safety pin. We even snagged an extra one off the ground while we were waiting in our start corral ("le sas") for the race to begin.

After the gun went off, Kelly and I were close enough to the front that it only took about 2-3 minutes to make it from our corral to the starting line. Despite being in one of the faster starting groups, the roads were packed! It's a good thing that only about 23000 to 24000 actually started the race even though, in theory, 30000 people were signed up. I think we might have had to hold hands with the runners next to us in order to keep from falling or triping over each other. Although the crowd did loosen up a little, relative to the big American races in which I have competed, the pack of runners really stayed pretty solid for all 21 kilometers. Because of all of the people, I didn't notice the spectators too much. There were definitly a lot of people watching in certain places, especially around the Place de la Bastille. However, it was very cool to be running through the streets of Paris with no cars! I was definitely more focused on the run and the people around me than the sites, but I do remember having a view of Notre Dame for a little while, running past the large pillar in the middle of Bastille and the fountain as we approached the Porte Dorée. All in all, it was a very enjoyable race!

Post-race (still in sweaty clothes) in my apartment

Post-race bustle at the Château de Vincennes
 (dry, warm clothes for cool down run)

As a side note, my friend Kelly is a superstar! She finished about 3 minutes before me for a time 1:38 and change. At about 10k, I realized that if I was to stay on track, I should not try and keep up with her. By some miracle, we managed to find each other around our pre-determined meeting place very shortly after having made it through the finishing chute. Timing chips returned, some fluids replenished and medals in hand, we headed back to my apartment to take a few pics, put on some dry clothes and go out for about a 20 min cool down jog (also to add to my day's mileage).

The Semi-marathon de Paris actually turned out to be a great preview of what I should expect for the marathon. First of all, I won't be surprised to find myself bumping into the people next to me for a good portion of the race. Although I suspect that 42km will give people a little more time to distinguish themselves from others at slightly different paces. Secondly, I will purchase safety pins so as not to have to repeat the pre-race sewing session, especially since I will be on my own this time, i.e. without Kelly :(
Thirdly, I will need to wear my camelbak water backpack. I checked the marathon site this morning, and, like the half, there will only be water stations every 5k. Absolutely insane! Maybe if the race were handing out small cups of water instead of full plastic bottles of Vittel from which people are only taking a few sips, they would have the resources to set up more water stations. I was also a little skeptical of the guarana-caffeine gel packets they were handing out, so I'll definitely have my own food and water. Not ideal, but it will be better than experiencing the same near-dehydration that I felt yesterday. Finally, half of the race is the exact same course as the half-marathon, so I will at least know what to look for in terms of elevation changes (and scenery!).

Here a summary of my splits and finishing time. I was actually pretty proud of how I maintained virutally the same pace throughout.

191 129 4144 JONES, Julia Gayle (UNITED STATES) 5K:00:25:23//10K 00:48:49//15K 01:12:27//21K 01:41:54

Preparing for the Semi-marathon de Paris

For the past two weeks, banners like the one on the left have been hanging in various locations throught the bois de Vincennes.  For many living near or around the woods, it is a big warning sign: "Do not try to drive around here on Sunday March 6, 2011!"  For me, it's been a sign of pride, anticipation and motivation, knowing that I'll be one of those crazy harriers blocking the road on dimanche 6 mars 2011 and "taking the Bastille".  

Yesterday, Kelly and I met up at the Parc Floral to pick up our "dossard" (race number) and t-shirt.  The t-shirt is not the most beautiful one ever.  It is orange and is a black and grey print of the guy above and all of the guys (emphasis on guys) behind him, overrunning the "place de la Bastille".  Competitive amateur running is still very much a male sport in France.  I think the women are sneaking in gradually, but I don't think that Kel and I are going to see to many ponytails in our place in the running pack, which sort of puts a damper on my usually race strategy of hunting the typical athletic female hairdo.

For our final preparation in the last 20 hours or so before the race, I'll be staying off my feet by heading to the library to write a little.  Then, Kel, her husband, Yann, and I will join with a few other runners for a little pre-race pasta feast.  Since the race begins at 10am in front of my favorite neighborhood castle (the Château de Vincennes), Kel and I will have a little slumber party at my place so as to both be well positioned in the morning for our warm-up and line-up before the starting gun goes off.

Pain au chocolat and "tu" v. "vous"

1. What makes a good "pain au chocolat"?
Fortunately for my marathon training, the daily craving for a chocolat croissant (pain au chocolat) has subsided.  However, it's still a great treat post-workout or pre- or post-library session, which is kind of like a workout.  I have tested this wonderful French treat at a number of bakeries, and I have certainly found my favorite version.  Down the street at the boulangerie Rouquette, they have the perfect pain.  Not too big, but not to small.  Slightly brown, but not trop cuit.  Light and flakey.  When it is fresh and well done, you hardly notice the butter.  Despite the fact my tastebuds and stomach usually yearn for the Rouquette pain, I did have a pretty amazing, non-RQ pain the other day.  The actual consistency wasn't even close to as good as the RQ, but when I walked out of the store with it, I realized that it was still warm!  It is virtually impossible to resist a warm baguette or croissant fresh from the boulangerie!  I had planned to hold off on indulging until I returned home (only a 5 minute walk) and could enjoy my treat seated at the table with a glass of milk.  However, having been lucky enough to have arrived at just the right moment for a fresh pain au chocolat, I couldn't wait.  The bread was soft and warm, and the chocolat inside, warm and liquid.  Oh, the indulgence!  A perfect post-tennis treat!


2. Understanding the formal and informal varities of "you"

For native English speakers, the distinction between tu and vous is largely intellectual.  As a 15-year student and a near-native speaker of French, I still have to consciously think about whether to use the formal vous or informal tu with people.  The processing time isn't more than a split second in most cases, but I still find myself in situations in which I'm really not sure.  It sort of resembles the lack of certainty of not knowing which side to start les bises (the cheek kisses of greeting and departure), which is entirely dependent on where you come from in France and sometimes is not even that logical.

However, the other day, I finally had a personal, emotional experience of what it might feel like if I were French and someone used the "wrong" pronoun.  I was writing on the board in class the other day, and it sounded like one of my students called out to me with "Gayle"!  Since they almost always call me "Madame", I quickly turned around with a look of shock on my face.  Not out of anger, but simply out of astonishment.  My students were sort of taken aback, and when I explained my reaction, one of the better students (who had also spent a fair amount of time in the US) sort of chuckled and explained to the still-puzzled student that my reaction was similar to that of someone who had been misaddressed in terms of the "you" pronoun.  It was as if one of my students had addressed me using tu, a possible sign of a lack of respect.  I was just taken aback by seemingly out-of-place nature of what I, mistakenly, thought I had heard.

A wonderful weekend in Paris with an old friend

After 13 years apart, we found things right where we had left them.  Only we had moved from Texas to Europe.  An excellent weekend in Cambridge with Céline and Charles proceeded by a few days another marvelous weekend in Paris with Vanessa.  Both St. Stephen's alums and former college tennis players, we met up this weekend after having found each other via Facebook about a month and a half ago.