bon jour, Paris.

Ahhh, Switzerland in the fall: the air is cool and crisp, the trees are changing, and the weather outside is sunshine-y. Wait...something is clearly wrong here. I'm fairly positive that it should be colder and much, much rainier, which means we'll probably suffer greatly in the months to come for our current sunshine-y bliss. But there's still a ray of hope: at least there will be raclette.

And now, another quick swing back through Paris! We'd been promising Mikey and Jess that we'd go visit them in their new quasi-hometown for months, and we finally found a weekend that worked for all of us (let me tell you, those kids travel!), so off we went for a long weekend. But not, of course, before celebrating Switzerland's national holiday on August 1 with a giant barbecue (10? 12 people? who can even count?) and fireworks. It's the Swiss equivalent of July 4, but for unification instead of independence. And way older: it sorta roughly informally dates back to 1291. Most of the smaller towns along the lake host their own fireworks, but not Zürich: we're all left to our own devices, but since fireworks are legal here, the hordes descend upon the tents set up around town for a month or so beforehand to spend ridiculous amounts of cash on some major firepower, then head down to the lake to set them off--just, you know, wherever!--like a bunch of idiots. It's terrifying and awesome, all at the same time. This year, Mike and a few friends formed a purchasing coalition and did fairly well for themselves: we ended up with the requisite sparklers, plus a bunch of Roman candles, a gigantic fountain or two, several small individual rockets, two boxes that shot 25 decent-sized mortars one at a time, and one mortar that was probably four inches in diameter. I couldn't help but make fun of the sheer quantities they'd bought, but really, we all know how I feel about fireworks. I adore them. The closer, the louder, the longer the display, the better. This was a good holiday, friends.

Our kitchen table, pre-barbecue. The boxes were the most fun, but the giant mortar (on the long stick) was outstanding.

Here are some select videos from the event; yes, that's me you can hear commenting. And Dave that you hear laughing in the background. We all turned into cackling, sausage-stuffed, fire-crazed children. It was great.

One of the smaller rockets. That's Mike's evil laugh at the end. 

A box-o-mortars. These just kept going. Awesome.

The big guy. When Mike lit it, it made an entirely different noise than all the others: lower, kinda sluggish-sounding...it sounded like there was no possible way this thing was going to lift off. And then it did. BOOM. (Bonus audio: my sensible instructions to Mike.)

That was Wednesday night. Thursday was spent cleaning up the BBQ mess (me) and working (everyone else), and Friday afternoon we took the fancy-schmancy TGV (wooo, high-speed train!) to Paris. Turns out, the train is a little pricey, but it's quite lovely and takes roughly the same amount of time to get there as one would waste by flying (Charles de Gaulle airport is way, way outside the city, and not conveniently linked at all...you'd think a major world metropolis could do a little better, but whatever). And we got to ride through giant fields of sunflowers and watch the sun set over the green, rolling countryside between here and there. I love train travel.

Continuing on. We rolled into Paris a bit late, but that's not a problem 'cause it's a real city and things are open past 8:00 in the evening (but who's bitter...?). We headed over to the Rue Montorgueil to find some dinner, and ended up at Au Rocher de Cancale, where I had one of the most interesting and delicious salads of my life. We started with escargot (YUM! who would have ever guessed that I would love snails-in-garlic-and-butter so much??) and fried chevre (goat cheese, mmmm) covered with ground almonds, and then Mike had a ridiculously good tuna burger with onions, tomato, and pickles (and some good frites on the side). And for me, la salade. It was a nice bed of fresh, dark greens topped with strips of chicken drizzled with a light, but sweet, caramel sauce; cubes of feta (which I regret to say that I have only recently discovered...just think of all the feta I could have been eating!); strips of parmesan cheese; dried tomatoes; and a lovely vinaigrette dressing. My mouth is actually and legitimately watering, just writing about this meal. I know there are a bazillion awesome restaurants in Paris, and yet I find myself not really caring about that, knowing that I could go back and have this particular meal again. Is that weird? Yes.

Because it was August, we had two distinct problems: one, it was still tourist season, and two, August is the holiday month for the French themselves...which means that lots of places were closed.* So we spent most of the time letting Jess be our tour guide, through the not-so-heavily-touristed parts of town and her favorite neighborhoods, and it was really nice. (Despite the fact that no fewer than two crêperies, for which we'd traipsed across the city, were closed.**)

A new sight for me: Place de la Bastille. Our hotel was very near here.

Strolling down the Seine. Look at all the bridges...! The big domed building on the left is the Commercial Court of Paris, and the conical towers are the Palace of Justice.

A little Tour Eiffel for your viewing pleasure.

Crazy faces on Pont Neuf. Frankly, I find them a little unsettling.

The faces extend the entire length of the bridge...which, I just learned, is the oldest standing bridge across the Seine in Paris. Thanks, Wikipedia!

One completely unexpected bonus of our trip: apparently, for the last ten years, during July and August, the city actually trucks in tons of sand and builds a small beach along part of the Seine! It's supposedly to give a beachfront experience for people who can't or don't travel out of town during the August holidays, and we had to go see it. Turns out, it's adorable.

The wee beach.

A guy making sand sculptures for tips. (Does this count as busking...??)

The boules (a.k.a. bocce) courts. You can tell these guys are good 'cause they're genuinely arguing over which ball is closer.

And, under the arch of a bridge, a 12-person foosball table. Who knew such things existed?

Next, it was over to Canal St. Martin, which turned out to be equal parts pretty and seedy. And very interesting. Who knew this existed, too??

We got there just as this tourist boat was going through the locks.

Here, it's already gone down one level, and is going down one more, before heading under the city streets. I can only imagine that it's both gross and fascinating down there.

Then, a brief stroll through a few back streets and over to Julhès Paris, a surprisingly upscale food-and-beverage market in a sketchy, but bustling, neighborhood full of super interesting ethnic markets. 

On the way, we passed this little kitteh who had been napping in a bakery window. 

At Julhès: they had these pretty barrels outside.

 And on the inside, vodka wearing green fur coats! (But also heaps of gorgeous meats 'n cheeses, a large and interesting wine/bubbly/spirits section, and tons of interesting jams/conserves/things in jars.)

Super busy street with ethnic markets and a giant arch at the end. Seriously, this city is so gorgeous.

Finally, at the end of day 1, dinner at Chartier, a Paris institution, full of traditional French food, and probably one of the only places in the entire city where you can get decent food for a reasonable price. It's all very classic European dining hall-y on the inside...big mirrors, lots of polished wood, etc., but none of my photos came out. At least I got this one.

They don't take reservations, so you have to wait outside in line...but it moves pretty darn quickly. I had a sea bream with lemon, which was simple, but tasty. Not the fanciest food, but a fun experience.

Also, the waiters write your order on the paper tablecloth. In some sort of mystery script, apparently. (Those frites down at the bottom were tasty.)

After dinner, we roamed the streets in search of ice cream, and stumbled across the Hotel de Ville, which is Paris's town hall. It is HUGE and FANCY and I only wish we'd seen it in the daytime. As it was, they had a giant screen out front and were broadcasting the Olympics to the public, complete with a few tables and chairs and food and drink vendors. It was quite the charming atmosphere, especially when a Jamaican runner took the gold and a heretofore unnoticed group burst out chanting and cheering and waving their Jamaican flags around. No photos of the giant screen or the (presumed) Jamaicans, but here's the building...

Ridiculous, no? The screen was over to the right, which is why everyone's looking that direction. (It's all starting to make sense now, isn't it.)

We started Sunday (and Saturday, come to think of it) morning with a walk through the LARGE marché on the Boulevard Richard-Lenoir, which ran alongside our hotel. I'm not going to kid you, I'd kill to have a market this size, and of the we-sell-everything-fruit-cheese-bread-jams-housewares-clothing-art-etc. type in Zürich. Then it was off to coffee at La Caféothèque, which is a fantastic little coffee shop that's essentially tripled in size since the first time we went there. While that's good for them--if they have enough business to expand, it probably means they'll stay in business--it's a bit sad as well, 'cause it used to be just a little less visible. Oh well. The caliber of the coffee has certainly not suffered, and the new jungle room is a nice place to sit and drink said delicious coffee. 

Le marché. This picture does not even begin to show how gigantic this thing is.

Mmmmm, iced latte and cappuccino at Caféothèque. And they serve each coffee with a little square of single-origin chocolate. What's not to love?

Sadly, Mikey had had to fly off to Africa early Sunday morning, so after coffee, it was just Jess, Mike, and I, and I talked everyone into going to Montparnasse to satisfy my need for crêpes. (And yes, it was a need. You all should be impressed that I didn't make everyone trek still further around the city in search of the perfect Croque Madame, too. Next time, minions. Next time.) We wanted to try for Josselin again, but--also again--ended up at La Crêperie Bretonne. Which was not a problem: THEIR CRÊPES ARE WICKED GOOD. I believe mine was some variety with ham and cheese and egg, and Mike's was the same but with caramelized onions. Guess who was the winner there.***

The crêpe maker at Bretonne. Fun to watch, and mind-blowing how much butter was involved.

With only a little time left before we had to catch our train back to Zürich, we decided to stroll through the wee art market that was close by, and I actually ended up buying a small painting of flowers in a vase...YAAAAAAY, ART! It wasn't cheap, but I really like the bright orange in it, and I really liked a lot of the artist's other works too. (Plus, she was a really nice woman, which is probably the best way to sucker me in as a customer.) I wanted to go back and ask if she'd cut me a deal for a second one, but Mike vetoed...probably a wise choice, since if we'd gone back, I would most likely have ended up paying full price for a second painting. (Next time, minions...next time.) It was probably also good, in that we did manage to make our train back, but not by what I would call the largest of margins. Another lovely weekend in Paris, and I can only hope that we go back soon: my list of places to visit there isn't exactly getting shorter. So much to see there, and to eat.

What I'm reading: ACK, still that stupid The Rape of Europa book. I am now only about halfway through it, and seriously debating whether to continue reading. On the one hand, the author has managed to take what is a fascinating subject and make it extremely dry, boring, and hard to follow, while simultaneously name-dropping artists no one in the real world has ever heard of and generally maintaining a general air of pretension (seriously? who writes using "vis-à-vis"? there's no other way you could have chosen to express that particular thought??). On the other hand, I can't remember the last time I didn't finish reading a book that I'd actually chosen to read, so my inherent stubbornness might just win this round. However this plays out, it's been a true chore getting through this, and I've found that I have to back up a few pages each time I start reading it again because it is so hard to follow, and so dry, that it makes me drowsy insanely quickly...but I'm trying so hard to get through it that I just keep reading even when I know I should put it down and close my eyes, thus forgetting most of what I've just read anyway. This one's not a winner for the casual reader, my friends. Maybe for serious art-and-WWII freaks slash art and/or history majors, but even I can't recommend this one. 

My favorite things: RON SWANSON, KIDS! "You may have thought you heard me say I wanted a lot of bacon and eggs, but what I said was, 'Give me all the bacon and eggs you have.'" Yaaaaay, I am SO glad that Parks & Recreation is back. I feel like it really hit its stride last season, and can't wait for this one. More of Ron Swanson's genius here and here.

Next up: another quick weekend trip...this time to Italy. 

*P.S. - If you are a small business owner and are wondering why your business is perhaps failing, maybe it's 'cause you take the entire month of August off. Think about it.

**Stupid August.

***Mike. Mike was the big winner there. Those onions are like delicious, sweet, onion candy. YUM.