Greetings from the American Girl
 
Coucou readers! My sister-in-law is coming to Paris in May! She should not be arriving solo either or else, and this is a big ELSE, girlfriend is going to need to find another place to plop her suitcases. Ma belle-sœur better be accompanied by my dear friends Peanut Butter, Butterfinger, and Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. I'm sure you've met them before. Aren't they lovely?

In addition to her mouthwatering entourage, my sister-in-law will be joined by a group of her university classmates who are finishing up a spring semester course in Paris. The class has sent me questions to help them prepare for their trip, and since I've never posted about studying abroad-ish things before I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to share my two cents. But let's be honest. I'm not the end all be all resource for Paris (not by a long shot!) so I've enlisted mon mari and a few friends to help round out my answers to their questions. I've also included links to posts by other bloggers where they've already written on the topic and can provide expert knowledge.
To begin, let's let my OCD really shine and start with the what clothes to pack question. But before you can really figure out which clothes to bring, you need to determine how many and what kind of outfits you'll need. There are some simple things to consider to get this semi-stressful task crossed off your pre-trip checklist:

--> You need an outfit for the airplane rides (a comfy, but not sloppy looking ensemble--boys too!)
--> How many times will you need to look professional?
--> How many times do you think you'll actually hit the town in a crazy club night kind of way? (Unless you're going to go the club clubs, you don't need your Forever 21 gear or tight Aéropostale shirts like you might in the U.S. What people wear to work / during the day turns into evening wear.)
--> Are you doing anything out of the ordinary that needs special equipment? (ex. Will you be taking a day trip to Fontainebleau to go bouldering? Fontainebleau has some of the best bouldering spots. Not that I boulder. I save that for my friends.)
--> Can you do laundry? Will you want to spend a few hours of your time in Paris doing laundry?

If you can think about these things before you start writing your packing list the whole process will be easier. Once you've nailed down the kinds of clothes you'll need, the next step is to plan out what you'll wear each day. Seriously. Really. Do it. This allows you to see where you can overlap your clothes to make more than one outfit and ultimately save space for souvenirs! Like big round boxes of macarons from Ladurée. Priorities people. And if you want to take it to the next level, packs said outfits in individual Ziploc bags. You think I'm joking, but I'm not...
Now for the actual clothes themselves. It's easier for me to play Stacey from What Not to Wear than to pretend I'm in know with the Paris fashion scene. Please. I get into sweat pants as soon as I walk through the front door. The important words in that sentence being front and door, which leads me to my first what not to wear "rule." (Take these with a grain of salt--these are just things that catch my eye and immediately tell me someone isn't from Paris. If potentially sticking out doesn't bother you, then disregard the rules as you please :-)
#1 Do not wear athletic gear or baseball caps. Full disclosure? I break this rule everyday, but I'm walking from the gym to my apartment or vice-versa. Okay...and maybe sometimes I'm guilty of getting on the metro in running gear. But, there's no touring Notre Dame in your basketball shorts or wearing your favorite sweatshirt to dinner.

#2 North Face jackets are out. You know the kind I'm talking about.

#3 Flip flops outside of the public shower are a no no. Say sayonara to those Rainbows until your feet are firmly planted back on American soil. The no flip flop rule is two fold. One, you don't want your bare feet getting near whatever gunk lurks on Paris sidewalks or the floor of the Metro cars. Trust me. Ick. Two, the thong sandal is just not worn around this town like it is in the U.S. Invest in a nice pair of sandals to really show off those polished piggly wigglies.

#4 Black is in. Always. Read this.

UPDATE: #5 Do not wear clothes that have French writing on them or anything Paris related that you might buy on your trip. I can spot a gaggle of tourists a kilometer away when they've slipped on their "Paris, je t'aime!" t-shirts.

And more generally...
For the ladies: dark jeans, skinny jeans, skinny pants, nice tops that go from day to night, spring dresses, and skirts, good walking shoes that aren't your grandma's Reeboks, stalk the trends at H&M and Zara, stare at the lookbook on this blog and realize how fashion challenged you are (maybe that's just me) and then pack accordingly
For the gents: jeans (no hammer hooks please), nice trousers, non-sneaker walking shoes that can go from day to night, normal collared shirts and T-shirts (you're lucky--it's not too complicated for you guys)
Onward to Question #2 then I need to take a little break because this puppy is getting too loooooong. Here we go:
Do you have any suggestions about key items that someone might not think to bring to Europe? For electronics? Hair stuff for girls (ideas for straighteners)?

--> CORKSCREW! I've lost 4 since moving here. I know one is stuck behind the seat on the train between Paris & Venice.
--> A WELL MADE UMBRELLA! I've bought more umbrellas in Paris than I can count and they've all died on me. Bring one.
--> Adapter, but check that all of the electronics you're bringing can operate on 220V.
--> Double up on products--buy your normal size shampoo, face wash, etc. and then get those cheapo travel kits and fill up the little bottles with some of each product. Store the travel kit along with travel size deodorant, shaving cream, etc. in a small plastic bag and bring that with you in addition to your the larger bottles. If you decide to go on a 1 or 2 day trip while you're based in Paris, you can easily throw your travel kit in a small weekend bag and not waste time transferring products. I have multiple toothbrushes, hair brushes, and mascaras just for this reason.
--> Bottles of hand sanitizer. Am I sounding like a total germaphobe now? Pastries taste good, but not when they're covered in microbes!
--> Copies of the back and front of all of your credit cards, identification documents, etc. Store one copy with your parents and bring one copy with you. Or better yet, scan everything and store securely in your email.
--> For zee girls, I might leave the hair paraphernalia stateside. Parisian girls love to rock the messy hair look! Somehow they've mastered a bed head coif that's perfectly acceptable at the office. If you hair goes Diana Ross on you, then throw it in a messy bun and you'll fit right in. You can also buy hair straighteners super cheap here. I bought one for 14 euros at Darty. Oh, and for "personal products"? You can buy normal brands here, but just save yourself the worry and bring them with you.

Obviously there are a billion other items you should absolutely not forget (i.e. your camera & camera charger, medications, products you cannot get in France...ummm Pepto Bismol anyone?), but you're smart grown-ups and can figure this out. Plus, you'll have written a packing list wayyy in advance that includes must have items. Right?  Right!

C'est tout for now, but I'll be back soon. Or as soon as I can figure out what other important phrases one should know other than "je vais prendre un croissant s'il vous plaît." Question #3 is a toughie when you're as good at miming as I am. Input anyone? What top phrases would you suggest people learn before coming to Paris?

Answers to question #3 and 4, and 5, and 1,000 to come...

Love your semi-knowledgeable trip adviser,
 
 
According to this 2010 article, there are 6 million rats in the City of Light. And that was 2 years ago. We're probably getting up to 8, 9, 10 million now. Some might call that a rat explosion. Not a cute Ratatouille explosion of rats either. I'd be totally okay with talking rats who wear chefs hats and know how to prepare five course meals, but those aren't the kind of rats that invade my pretty Parisian neighborhood.

You see, when the weather gets warm, the rats come out to play and the grand boulevard next to my apartment is their personal playground. I guess their underground nests start to get a little stuffy when the temperatures rises and they decide it's time to grace the world with their normally reclusive presence. I can hardly blame them...if I squeaked and had a weird little tail, Paris would be my pick of cities too. Plenty of garbage to rustle through, restaurants galore, and, of course, millions of mates to choose from. Pretty much rat heaven. But, unlike the rats ruling my neck of the woods I wouldn't needlessly harass the human population. "My rats" like to frolic to and fro when I'm out for a run and scare the buhjesus out of me every single time. What I think is cute dachshund scampering my way is in fact a giant rat and he usually has one or two rat buddies scurrying along with him. I wish I were exaggerating, but I'm not. Side stepping merde and avoiding rats have become my one and only focus when jogging or walking along the Parisian streets. Rat season has arrived. Faites attention!

I know rats are here, there, and everywhere in big cities, but really must they torture me on my runs? Can't they just stay in the sewers where they can live in harmony with their extended rodent family?

Rat a tat tat!
 
 
This is the kind of terrible photography that happens when I'm about to be presented with a chariot of desserts. Oui, c'est vrai! A limitless chariot of desserts! In Paris no less! And from where did this majestic display of dessert gluttony appear? Heaven? No, but close--l'institut Vatel. Recommended to us by friends, mon mari and I dined at l'institut Vatel to celebrate Valentine's Day way back when and I'm just now getting to share this delicious discovery with you.

L'institut Vatel is not your average restaurant. It's a school for hotel and tourism management that operates a restaurant to give its students experience working in a bustling dining establishment. Because the restaurant is there to train students, the atmosphere is a bit classroom like and students swarm around the tables like a bunch of nervous bees. They're almost too attentive, and a few times I found myself feeling anxious for them knowing they were probably receiving marks for that night's service. Some people may not like the students' doting, but I quite enjoyed their attentiveness especially in Paris where most servers make rare appearances at your table.

Our meals were very tasty, but really we were there for the cheese and dessert. The cheese platter would have made Templeton the happiest rat around and left mon mari and I searching for stomach space to fit the pastries heading our direction. Forget a measly dessert tray! The servers wheeled out 4 carts displaying over 12 scrumptious sweets. You know dessert is serious business when you need more than one person to push the dessert display. And instead of trying to capture a well composed photo of the dessert, I hastily took the first picture I could and quickly got to picking out which pastries would make it on my plate. Who can even think straight, let alone take good photos when there's that much dessert staring you down? Not this girl. Don't ask me how I narrowed down my choices either. All I know is three slices of tart and cake (I can practice some restraint) were piled on my plate, the standout being a delicious combination of grapefruit and cream. Major yum.

If you're down with dessert like I am or enjoy watching restaurant students sweat it out for a good grade, l'institut Vatel is a fun experience. Walk in with the understanding that it's at it's core it is a training facility and you won't be disappointed. Promise.

(Oh, by the way, this would not be a place to make reservation if you're trying to come to grips with a gluten allergy. Nope, not the best choice. Oops.)
Institut Vatel
122 Rue Nollet
75017 Paris
01 42 26 26 60
 
 
The I word is a sneaky little devil...

It creeps up on you when you least expect it.

It makes you obsess.

It makes you worry.

It makes you second guess.

Have you ever met the I word? You know the one I'm talking about.

INJURY

I recently met him and he's a big jerk. Seriously.
Just before my U.S. vacation, I was rocking a runner's high. I'd joined a running group (yay Planet Jogging!), my marathon training was going strong, and my body was holding up well against the stress of running and cross training six times a week. Well...that feel good train came to a screeching halt...I got injured.

Two Saturdays ago I did my longest run yet--19.5 miles and owe 99% of that accomplishment to my best amie who:

a) was willinging to run in ridiculous winds (for real, look at the crazy font the forecasters used for WINDY!)
_AND

b) held my hand crossing this bridge (scarier than it looks, imagine the deep, dark ocean below!)
_I felt fine during the run (or as fine as you can running that far), but as soon as I stopped I had a nagging pain in my left foot. Even after chowing down on a big breakfast and lounging around with the dog, my foot still hurt. My sister said my awkward limp actually made me walk like a normal person for the first time ever. I think that was her nice way of saying I walk like Mister Smee. Sweet sisterly love...
_I made an executive decision and took a week off because the pain wouldn't go away, and boy did that derail my motivation.  Now I feel like my pre-runner self-- not excited about going for a jog and a general Debbie Downer when it comes to putting in the extra strength training. What happened? Bleh!

My foot isn't 100% better and I need a serious kick in the derriere to get back out there and make this marathon happen.

I'm off to stare at the Fitness page on Pinterest for awhile. Maybe I'll find some inspiration looking at all those people with disgustedly ripped bodies...
 
 
_Sorry for the cliche Miley Cyrus post title...the song is stuck in my head, but after going through the photos of my vacation to the States, I thought Miley's dance party lyrics fit my jam-packed trip to a T. Other than eating far too many delicious foods, I got to visit with loved ones from near and far, see two best friends tie the knot, breathe in Avalon air, cheer my hometown hockey team to victory, ride my favorite four legged friend, and snuggle with the cutest dog on the block. I couldn't have asked for a better two weeks.
In addition to having a rock star worthy time with friends and family, I also learned a few valuable lessons on this trip:

#1 Don't watch heart wrenching movies like The Descendents on the plane when you're flying 3,859 miles away from your family. Crying all around.

#2: Do watch Ryan Gosling be heartthrob numero uno in Drive. Ryan says, "hey girl, the violence is gross, but even with blood on my jacket I'm a hottie."
 
 
Don't start sobbing or anything, but...today is the last post in the Paris Mad Libs series. Stop boohooing because you can read the previous four stories here, here, here, and here! For the final installment of the series I invited Elissa, author of The Traveling Pear to guest post. Enjoy Elissa's bio and her story!

I'm educated in French history and thus a daydreamer of all things classically French. Paris beckoned in the spring of 2011 so naturally I obliged the request. When life called me home in the fall I became content to share my experiences, fascinations and passions of its history and various other musings on cuisine and travel through a blog I share with my culinary talented husband, called The Traveling Pear.   

Oh Paris!

Oh la la! Nothing like the romantic sound of a macaron waking you up in the morning! But no time to savourI need to get dressed in my chic Parisian uniform of a scarf and beretthen I'm off for a quick bite of Nutella from the Jardin du Luxembourg. But wait! As soon as I get out the door, I'm greeted by Coco Chanel and forced to alter my plans for the day. Forget going to the CatacombsI have to take the timeless bonbons to the aloof Musee Carnavalet for a rendezvous with Napolean Bonaparte. Quelle chance! It seems that canoodling will have to wait until the workers stop striking. I may have danced at getting the poodle fixed, but who cares when I get to make a stop at St. Germain des Pres instead. Thankfully, I can elegantly frolic and finish Voltaire before dining at la Grande Roue. I just don't understand why Marie Antoinette spoiled all of my baguette. Mais, c'est la vie!
 
 
Last week I shared my review of M.J. Rose's latest novel The Book of Lost Fragrances, and today I've got a special guest post from the author. Enjoy her insider's story about a unique Guerlain scent!
I've been fascinated with lost fragrances since long before I started writing The Book of Lost Fragrances...since I found a bottle of perfume on my great grandmother's dresser that had belonged to her mother in Russia. Here is one of those lost fragrances that stirs the senses and the imagination...(reasearched and described with the help of the perfume writer Dimitrios Dimitriadis)
Guerlain - Pois de Senteur 
Pois de Senteur (or sweet pea) has a delicate perfume - one that has been memorialised many times by many perfumers. In 1917, Guerlain launched their own interpretation which strayed away from the norm and focused on rich florals and, nectar-like honey accords - painting an impressionistic picture of a spring garden with flowers in bloom. Pois de Senteur has a citrus / orange flower opening, rousing notes of iris, hyacinth and rose over a balsamic woody base. The sum of all components left a sensation of a lazy bumble-bee - moving from one blossom to another -  humming in the ears. Long since retired, Pois de Senteur is a perfume paradigm of the pre-Art Deco age.
 
 
Only a few days left for me to gobble up as many Fritos and Diet Dr. Peppers as I can before getting on a plane back to Paris, but all this Mad Libs talk of baguette and brioche has me hankering for a stop at the boulangerie as soon as I land. Today's Paris Mad Libs story is courtesy of Sedulia from the blog Rue Rude. I love reading Sedulia's blog because her posts are well written, timely, and thought provoking. I particularly enjoy the way she highlights both the big and little differences that make living in France such a wonderful and sometimes strange experience compared to the U.S. This recent post on dining times highlights one of the differences I've had the hardest time adjusting to. (I still want to eat at 6:00PM...)

Here's Sedulia's story:

Oh Paris!

Oh la la! Nothing like the friendly sound of a manif waking you up in the morning! But no time to be fachoI need to get dressed in my chic Parisian uniform of black, black and blackthen I'm off for a quick bite of brioche from the boulangerieBut wait! As soon as I get out the door, I'm greeted by the chauffeur from the ministry and forced to alter my plans for the day. Forget going to the private opening of that fabulous new exhibit at the Grand Palais over lunchI have to take the silly limo to the side door of the Quai d'Orsay for a rendezvous with the German ambassador's deputyQuelle chance! It seems that going to Berlin will have to wait until the workers stop striking. I may have been a failure at getting the Eurozone fixed, but who cares when I get to make a stop at Guy Savoy with Carla Bruni instead. Thankfully, I can avoid the paparazzi, enjoy a fun girls' lunch, and finish the grapefruit terrine with tea sauce before her motorcade comes and zooms us past the now dismantled Grande Roue. I just don't understand why her baby chewed up all of my baguette. Mais, c'est la vie!
 
 
Coucou! Today Liz from What am I doing in France? shares her Paris Mad Libs story. Liz recently moved to Paris and writes fun, honest posts about what it's like living in Paris with her husband and one year old son. I really appreciate Liz's sense of humor and the way she embraces the good and the bad of expat life. Go give Liz's blog a peek and be sure to check out her series Parisian Perspectives. You might pick up a Paris tip or two! 

Oh Paris!

Oh la la! Nothing like the cloudy sound of a lingerie waking you up in the morning! But no time to strollI need to get dressed in my chic Parisian uniform of a silk scarf and poussettethen I'm off for a quick bite of cigarette from PrintempsBut wait! As soon as I get out the door, I'm greeted by the lady from the wine store and forced to alter my plans for the day. Forget going to the Charles-de-Gaulle-Etoile metro stationI have to take the sparkling dog poop to the majestic Parc Monceau for a rendezvous with the babyQuelle chance! It seems that smelling will have to wait until the workers stop striking. I may have cried at getting the croissant fixed, but who cares when I get to make a stop at Musee de la Vie Romantique instead. Thankfully, I can grandly drink and finish exploring before the boulangerie comes and glares at la Grande Roue. I just don't understand why the macaron smiled at all of my baguette. Mais, c'est la vie!
P.S. I'm loving all of the overlap in the series so far. Without knowing, each blogger submitted similar if not the exact same words to be used in the Mad Libs story. I guess Paris definitely has her shining (and stinky) stars. 
 
 
I'm taking a petite pause from the Paris Mad Libs series to showcase a wonderful new book. Several months ago, a publicist for author M.J. Rose contacted me about reading and reviewing The Book of Lost Fragrances. As a lover of perfumes, the title alone had me hooked, and I readily agreed to highlight the novel on the blog. Below you'll find the publisher's synopsis and my own review of the novel. 
SYNOPSIS: 
A sweeping and suspenseful tale of secrets, intrigue, and lovers separated by time, all connected through the mystical qualities of a perfume created in the days of Cleopatra--and lost for 2,000 years. 


Jac L'Etoile has always been haunted by the past, her memories infused with the exotic scents that she grew up surrounded by as the heir to a storied French perfume company. In order to flee the pain of those remembrances--and of her mother's suicide--she moved to America. Now, fourteen years later she and her brother have inherited the company along with it's financial problems. But when Robbie hints at an earth-shattering discovery in the family archives and then suddenly goes missing--leaving a dead body in his wake--Jac is plunged into a world she thought she'd left behind.

Back in Paris to investigate her brother's disappearance, Jac becomes haunted by the legend the House of L'Etoile has been espousing since 1799. Is there a scent that can unlock the mystery of reincarnation - or is it just another dream infused perfume?

The Book of Lost Fragrances fuses history, passion, and suspense, moving from Cleopatra's Egypt and the terrors of revolutionary France to Tibet's battle with China and the glamour of modern-day Paris. Jac's quest for the ancient perfume someone
REVIEW: 
I know some people who are super sensitive to perfume, but I've always wanted to be someone who has a signature perfume--just a light scent to remember me by, not anything overwhelming. The problem is I love too many fragrances to be faithful to just one. I own bottles and bottles of perfume not because I'm particularly enamored with the different scents, but because I enjoy the memories the scents trigger. I have a beautiful butterfly shaped bottle from Anna Sui that takes me back to the night of my first kiss, an elegant bottle of Givenchy Amarige that reminds me of winters in New York, and my favorite, Creed Fleurissimo that summons wonderful memories of a trip to London with my mom. M.J. Rose takes this idea of scent triggering memories and weaves a mysterious tale. This premise, more than any other aspect of the novel, is why I enjoyed reading The Book of Lost Fragrances

Initially frustrated by the novel's multiple, seemly disconnected plot lines and characters, I grew more attached to the story as I progressed through the chapters. M.J. Rose takes her audience to ancient Egypt, 18th century France, present day Paris, China, and back all the while enticing the reader with a combination of romance, danger, and even a bit of politics. By the middle of the novel, M.J. Rose had me completely lured into her complex plot, and I found myself nearly missing my metro stop on the way to work because I was so engrossed in the book. Despite being put off at first by Ms. Rose's different plot lines, I ended up enjoying the diversity of the novel and looked forward to the way each chapter was set in a different time period. In this way, I also learned about the history of perfume and the power of a scent to transport a person mentally through time. M.J. Rose's novel now sits on my night stand as a reminder to spritz myself with perfume and experience Paris's rich perfume history. I might even need to go ahead and create my own personal scent! Paris does have a least a few perfume houses ;-) 
See you later this afternoon with another post in the Paris Mad Libs series! 
 

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