The non-judging Breakfast Club

Since I watched episode 16 of Gossip Girl, which I religiously buy and download from iTunes, I've been, obviously, dying to watch episode 17—no pun intended. Having to wait for the next episode to appear on iTunes is definitely one of the downsides to living in Paris. If I see the title "All About My Brother" again, I'm going to scream. "Woman on the Verge." We Americans in Paris want Woman on the Verge. Before I do finally get to find out what exactly Serena did—aside from killing someone—I will have watched all the best clips I can find on YouTube and even some cast photo shoots in front of a green screen.

For those of you who don't watch because there aren't any gay characters, well, you can watch now.

Unfortunately, episode 18, cleverly titled "Much 'I Do' About Nothing is the season finale. But, thank god, there will be a second season with 24 new episodes this fall.

<3

I've been meaning to post a link to the winning entry of the Modern Love College Essay Contest held by The New York Times.

Want to Be My Boyfriend? Please Define

Apparently, The New York Times received 1,200 essays from 365 schools in 46 states and Puerto Rico, including mine. Here is an excerpt:

Later, you find yourself in a LDR with A Real Catch who rolls his own Gauloises cigarettes and drinks mate. He writes you five-page letters from medical school. He writes you beautiful emails. This is before people are using Skype. Before long-distance lovers are checking in with each other via video calls. Pixel-perfect 1280-by-800 resolution. This is before your monthly expenses consist of cigarettes, Skype Credit, and airplane tickets. No more mixtapes and postage stamps. In any case, your LDR lasts about eight months.

I'm so full, I can barely blog.

These days, the green lawns are covered with Parisians and tourists alike. They read, sleep, snack, smoke, play the guitar (ick), tap away on their laptops (some parks have Wi-Fi). As scarfs and boots disappear, tattoos and berry-colored toenails appear. We are wearing much less, but we are not eating any less.

At all hours, brasseries, cafés, restaurants spill over with customers. They sit under the hot sun, facing the street, sipping cafés or Coca-Cola with a lemon slice and a few less ice cubes than Americans like myself are used to. But I don't mind.

Tonight, I ate at Le Bistrologue yet again. Pastis, charcuterie, souris d'agneau, Côtes du Rhône, and fondant au chocolat. Souris d'agneau translates to lamb shank but "literally means 'lamb mice,' most probably because of their shape," writes Clotilde Dusoulier of the food blog Chocolate & Zucchini. At "The Logue," as my flatmate calls it, the lamb shank is served next to a heap of couscous with small raisins. The lamb falls off the bone; it is delicious. The fondant au chocolat was comparable to cold mousse, served in two one-centimeter slices. Not really what I was anticipating. Order the crème brûlée instead.

My neighbor Mike had the confit de canard. Back at his flat, Mike described feeling like a beached whale. Across the hall, I'm so full, I can barely blog.

Speaking of Chocolate & Zucchini, my sister arrived Paris with Clotilde Dusoulier's new book, Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris. I will let you know if her recommendations are any good.

On blogging and things at large

If only I were as prolific as I was during charrette.

I'm not here for much longer (in Paris); I could begin a countdown. But I'd rather not (fifteen days).

When I feel at ease somewhere, I like knowing that I'm going to be there for, at the very least, a month. But that's no longer the case. So I'm a bit sad. But wherever I go next, depending on the three-letter word (begins with a j), chances are I'll be there for a while. Maybe I can finally put up some bookshelves. And marry new books with old ones. Acquire some wine glasses.

On a happier note, I await, first, a friend from Houston, and then my family—sister, brother-in-law, father. When my father arrives, a trip to the Netherlands is in order, as I haven't been back since I left seventeen years ago. Whoa.

The Three States of America

Her Majesty's swan takes you to my latest Flickr set.

I'm back in Paris from a weekend in Reading, which happened to coincide with the May Day bank holiday.

Friday evening I arrive at the beautiful St Pancras International, where I am greeted by a smiling friend whom I haven't seen for more than two years. There's something nerve-racking and wonderful about searching for a familiar face in a crowd. Especially when that face is the French version of Clive Owen or Paul Rudd.

From Paddington, my friend and I take the First Great Western to Reading. Though having chosen the Quiet Carriage, we sit behind a group of kids drinkin' beers and naming celebrities from A to Z. They're on J or R, I'm not sure. My guess is J.

"Julia Roberts!"

When they are stuck, Big Guy One shouts, "Drink while you think!" The dark-haired girl comes up with "Drink till you think!" Which they all love. From time to time, the girls pause to point their thin silver cameras at themselves. All their photos will look the same. Later, Big Guy Two gathers the girls round. You wonder which one he likes.

"Smiles all around!"

That night begins a faithful routine of—more or less—apéritifs (pastis), saucisson, wine (red, French), cheese (Reblochon and Époisses de Bourgogne), bread (sourdough), and digestifs (whiskey). And in the morning, coffee and crumpets.

Saturday we go to London. A stroll through Hyde Park, a nap on the grass. By the time we've crossed the Millennium Bridge and arrive at the Tate Modern, the sky has changed from blue to gray. Hungry and a bit tired, we have a bite at the Tate Café 2—egg mayonnaise and watercress on sourdough bread for me and ham, rocket and fontina cheese focaccia for my friend.

Sunday we go to Oxford, which, for a Harry Potter/Gossip Girl fan, is a treat. Rosy-cheeked Nate Archibald types biking with lacrosse gear. Chuck Bass types at historic The Turf Tavern. Half expect to see Gwyneth Paltrow as Sylvia Plath biking by (except it was at Cambridge where Sylvia Plath met Ted Hughes).

Monday, my first bank holiday, is spent at The Hobgoblin (2 Broad Street, Reading, Berkshire, RG1 2BH) trying different ales and, as my departure looms, hoping for time to stand still.

But reality sets in. Back at St Pancras, at the Eurostar terminal, I say hello to a black man at the x-ray machine.

"Konichiwa," he replies.

"I'm not Japanese."

He thinks for a second. "Ni hao."

"Yes, that's right. But I'm American, so I speak English."

"You come from America? California? New York?" As if America is made up of these two states.

"Texas."

"Oh wow, Texas."

"Bye."

On Wi-Fi

For $29.99, you'll never have to ask "Is there wireless?" again.

Here at ThinkGeek we're pretty lazy when it comes to technology. We expect our gadgets to do all the busywork while we focus on the high level important tasks like reading blogs. That's why we hate to have to crack open our laptops just to see if there is any wi-fi internet access about... and keychain wi-fi detectors, we would have to actually remove them from our pockets to look at them. But now thanks to the ingenious ThinkGeek robot monkeys you can display the current wi-fi signal strength to yourself and everyone around you with this stylish Wi-Fi Detector Shirt. The glowing bars on the front of the shirt dynamically change as the surrounding wi-fi signal strength fluctuates. Finally you can get the attention you deserve as others bow to you as their reverential wi-fi god, while geeky chicks swoon at your presence. You can thank us later.
ThinkGeek

Or you can just refer to The Washington Post's list of Wi-Fi hotspots.

What do you wanna do?

Have visitors in Paris? Here are some ideas:

Lay out or picnic with a friend (or a group) on Champ de Mars, the long, formal garden between the Tour Eiffel and Ecole Militaire. The view of the Tour Eiffel from here is just fine.

Visit the Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature (Museum of Hunting and Nature) for an array of taxidermy, organized in the many rooms of the Hôtel de Guénégaud. 62 rue des Archives.

Have a Leffe or two at Café Hugo at Place des Vosges. Wi-Fi too. 22 Place des Vosges.