Time for a little R & R

Today is Monday and we're back in Rome. Dad's back at work and I'm back, well I guess still being a tourist. Almost all museums in Rome are closed on Monday and those that aren't are incredibly busy so I decided not to do too much today. I slept in a little (it seems I've more or less adjusted to the time change finally) then headed down to the market. On the way is a shop that sells fresh pasta, and from what Dad's been told, it's one of the best in Rome. He'd recommended the ravioli filled with lemon and ricotta cheese, so I picked up just enough of those for my lunch. My Italian greetings (and ability to read off signs) have gotten good enough people tend to assume I speak more Italian than I do. Tragically, the conversation comes to a halt shortly after "good morning". After successfully communicating with the pasta woman, I made my way to the market. I'd been hoping to pick up some fresh basil and parsley, along with garlic to go with tomatoes in the fridge and some rocket lettuce for a salad. I didn't see any herbs, so I decided I'd just go without. As I was paying, the man added a handful of fresh parsley and basil to my bag, on the house. It was like he read my mind!

Before: my lemon ravioli, rocket lettuce, some cherries and plums, parsley and basil, and garlic

After: I tossed the rocket lettuce with some balsamic I found on the counter and what can only be described as a truly amazing olive oil, and topped it with some shaved pecorino romano. I made a simple sauce for the ravioli with minced garlic, chopped tomato, chiffonade basil and olive oil. I can't believe how good the lemon ravioli are! Perfect for a summer lunch. 

I decided to take advantage of the Monday closures to get some laundry done and I was mildly concerned the washer was about to take off. I think I've heard quieter jumbo jets. I also figured I should really work on my lecture I'm giving in Poland because, alas, it will not right it's self. I took the facade of the Natural History Museum in Paris as a sign I should really stop procrastinating. 

(My lecture is on zooarchaeology)

This is what I came here to do - Le troisième jour

When people asked me what I hoped to do in Paris I replied with one word: eat. I wasn't planning to see the Mona Lisa and I wasn't waiting in line to go up the Eiffel Tower. Though a lot of people told me I was crazy, anyone who really knows me knows exactly how not crazy this is for me.

The holy grail of French cuisine, at least according to popular culture, is foie gras. A goose or duck is force fed until it fattens up (becomes morbidly obese) and it's liver becomes fatty. This liver is then cooked and served in a variety of ways. Foie gras is pretty controversial, what with the force feeding of said goose or duck. Not surprisingly, PETA has some pretty major objections, and it's actually just been banned in California. Despite some personal issues with the practice, I figured I wasn't going to be in France every day and ordered it. I wanted to know what all the hype was. This is probably going to sound sacrilege to foodies everywhere, but I didn't love it. It was almost too fatty, rich and intense for me. I think I preferred the onion jam it was served with, to be honest (sshhhhh, don't tell the French!!).

Dad's lunch on the other hand I loved. Fortunately, we'd agreed to order different dishes, eat half, then swap. He had the tete de veau, or calves head. Very quintessential French cuisine. I'm not really squeamish about offal or the parts of the animal North American's don't usually eat. In fact, I think it makes no sense to waste any part of an animal. Besides, having had my fair share of hot dogs, I've probably had calves head before. It was unbelievably tender and the flavor was amazing. It was served with simple roast potatoes, the perfect accompaniment to cut the nearly overwhelming taste of the tete de veau.

The number one thing I wanted to eat in Paris, though, was a macaron from Pierre Herme. As an aspiring macaron maker, it was a pilgrimage of sorts for me.  In addition to a dozen assorted macarons, we also got a couple tarts and I got a tin of Ispaphan tea.

Aahhh, j'adore Paris. <3 

Paris is always a good idea

I couldn't agree with Audrey more. The city is absolutely, fantastically, I can't use enough adjectives-ly beautiful and romantic. My preferred decor style is very French femme. Flowers, lace, anything delicate, pretty, feminine, and ideally antique and I want it. I also love shopping for food in outdoor markets, something Paris has no shortage of. We stumbled across this market near our hotel the second morning of our stay and revisited it the third.

After crossing the Seine we came across another fantastic market. We stopped for an espresso and a treat. If there's anything I love more than French-inspired decor, it's French patisserie. I love to bake and I've tried my hand at a few different French creations (macarons and croissant being the biggest two) but nothing compares to getting them from the source. This raspberry tart with custard was absolutely divine.

We picked up a baguette from the same bakery and a couple different cheeses from a nearby vender for lunch and continued to wander. The catacombs were nearby and as a giant osteophile, it was definitely a place I was interested in seeing. Unfortunately, there was a huge line. The website said that only 200 people could be in the catacombs at a time, and that each tour lasted about 45 minutes. Doing the math,  we realized we'd be standing there for at least a couple hours, best case. With only a couple days in Paris, I didn't want to spend so much of my time standing in a line. Fortunately, the Cimetiere Montparnasse was nearby, so I was able to get my fix of the morbid. The cemetery if huge. It's gorgeous, peaceful and awe-inspiring. They've also got no shortage of "notable interments", or in other words, famous dead people. Samuel Beckett and Emile Durkheim are two such notable interments. My best friend the feminist and her partner the existentialist have a huge amount of adoration and respect (if not downright obsession with) for Simone de Beauvoir and Sartre, so naturally I had to visit their grave.

We'd already decided on our lunch spot: a picnic in the park at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. It was a gorgeous sunny day, perfect for our Parisian picnic.

I've been pretty blantantly pro-Paris in my last couple posts, so I figure it's time to share a couple things I didn't love. First, Dad and I walked nearly seven hours around the city and I was wearing my cute new shoes, which made my feet less than happy. This is most certainly Paris' fault because in a city of so many well dressed put together people, how could I not wear them? Secondly, I got sunburn. This is mostly EasyJet's fault for charging me if I'd checked any luggage and the folks who make flight regulations from preventing me from bringing my 180 mL SPF 60 with me on the plane. Because of the sunburn (which was definitely worst on my face) and the seven hours of walking (in a cute if not entirely practical outfit) I was exhausted and fell asleep while trying to decide on the restaurant for the night. Dad tried to wake me and, upon being greeted with grumbles and something along the lines of "kindly leave me alone good sir", headed off on his own for dinner at one of the many sushi places the city has to offer. 

Premier jour de Paris

Bonjour! I haven't written over the last couple days because Dad took a long weekend and we headed of to Paris. We flew with EasyJet, so the tickets were super cheap but we could only bring a single, relatively small carry-on which meant non-essentials (like the computer) were left behind.

We got in to the city just before lunch and wandered until we found a place that looked promising. Their plat du jour was salmon tartar with a salad, with a mixed fruit plate for dessert. I'm pretty sure this was my first time having salmon tartar and it was fabulous. They'd done a twist on the traditional presentation and added diced fruit, I believe mango. Most of the people around us in the packed patio seemed to be Parisians on lunch break. Although our waiter spoke some English to us, I don't think I heard a single patron using it. One of the things I love about traveling is the background noise of everyone speaking another language.

After what was a relatively light lunch, my jeans were way too tight for comfort, and I decided that tight denim was probably not the best bet for a trip where my sole goal was to eat as much French food as I could (big surprise, I know). So we oriented ourselves in the general direction of the hotel and stopped at a few shops along the way. I picked up a pair of light linen pants, much better suited to accommodating my food baby, as well as a new dress and a pair of shoes to replace an old favorite that had bit the dust.

New dress and shoes. :) 

We managed to track down the right hotel (after a bit of a detour - we stayed with Hotel Ibis, a chain, and had ended up going to the wrong location, fortunately only a 20 minute walk or so away). I wanted to make sure we went somewhere good for dinner, and the hotel had free wifi, so I popped open Foursquare and found Au Passage, a wine bar which serves traditional French food, tapas style. We showed up a couple minutes after 8, just as they were opening. We were seated at a worn leather couch with a low table and handed the very extensive wine menu. It took about twenty minutes to get the food menu because they had to print the menu of the day, by which time the place was at least half full. We ordered dried sausage, smoked egg, steak tartar and pigeon, with a cheese plate and chocolate ganache for dessert. All of these dishes sounded much better in French (let's be honest, does anything not sound better in French?) and I'm no master food blogger, so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

The entire meal was amazing (the pictures of the steak tartar and cheese plate aren't the best because we were a little overzealous with the eating and not so great at remembering the picture taking). I'd say that the egg and the pigeon were my favorites of the night, though. The pigeon was served rare and was unbelievably tender and flavorful. Plus, Dad had fun eating it. 

One of the things I love about Paris is the complete acceptance of dogs, well, anywhere. Our dinner companion was absolutely adorable. 

Running with the Romans

It would appear I'm doing moderately better on the schedule front. I managed to sleep until around five this morning and tossed and turned until just before six when I decided to get up. Overcome with an unusual desire to be a healthy human being, I decided to go for a run. Trastevere is quite close to Villa Pamphilli, one of the largest if not the largest parks in Rome, and when Dad and I were wandering last night he'd pointed out the staircase that was a shortcut into the park. There was still a good kilometer or two to go from the top of the stairs to the park entrance, and when I arrived there the gate was locked. I kept running and came to the next gate, which was also locked. The runner behind me, a larger man around my father's age, took one look at the closed gate and scaled it. I was debating following him but just as I'd mustered up the courage a police car drove by, so I opted to turn around instead and run back. By the time I got back to the first gate, a large group of people were waiting, which I assumed meant the park was about to open. There were the cutest, chubbiest wiener dogs, and I wish I'd covertly got a picture of them because my best friend would have just died. Anyways, just before six a truck pulled up to unlock the gate and we all converged. The park was gorgeous (let's be honest, is anything in Rome not?). But seriously. There is so much green space in Rome and I think a lot of tourists miss out on it. And it doesn't matter where you go. You will find ruins.

I adored the way the light came through the trees

I'm not really sure what this is, but I ran past it. 

Way cooler than what I usually run past at home.

As much as I was loving the park, my legs were getting a little sore, and I vaguely remember the fellow at the store saying to take it easy on my first few runs with my Vibrams (close to 10 km up and down hills on uneven ground is easy, right?). Plus I was worried if I took too many more turns I'd never make it out of the park alive, and the sun was coming above the trees. I hadn't put sunscreen on and I'm pretty awesome at turning into a lobster. I miraculously found my way back to where I'd started and stopped for my €1.50 morning cafe e cornetto (espresso and pastry) across the street from the apartment. There's something sinfully delightful about having what can only be described as a croissant covered in a mountain of nutella after a long run. 

I'm a little off schedule...

I am profoundly terrible at dealing with time changes. I've got a horrendous sleep schedule at home to begin with, and hopping eight hours ahead across the pond hasn't really helped the situation. My first night in Rome I woke up around four am and was having the hardest time getting back to sleep. I finally did, though, and woke up a few hours later with a killer migraine. I popped some drugs and fell back asleep. By the time I woke up it was the evening and I'd slept nearly 25 hours (I know...). Dad got home from work shortly after, I showered, and we headed out for an early dinner. Trastevere is full of amazing restaurants and in a less than five minute walk we were at our chosen spot. My dinner was spaghetti scoglio, spaghetti with clams, mussels, shrimp, olive oil and fresh parsley.

Before:

 After: (About to soak up the remaining sauce with bread)

We wandered around a bit after dinner and Dad reacquainted me with the neighborhood. We stopped at Blue Ice in Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, a gelato chain. It's apparently not as good as the stand alone place a couple blocks down, but they have numerous flavors of soy gelato, a blessing for those of us who are tragically lactose intolerant. I can't attest to the normal gelato, but I assure you, soy hazelnut is mighty delicious.

We headed back to the apartment and by 11:30 I was back in bed, having been up a whopping six hours. I'm pretty stoked to adjust properly to the time change.

Off the beaten path?

As those of you who know me are well aware, I love to travel. And when I do so, I do my best to venture off the beaten path (can I really still use that exceptionally overused expression to describe something not many people do?). Anyways, my Dad has been living and working in Rome for a little over a year. Last August when I came to see him I hit a lot of the big touristy things: the colosseum, the Vatican, Trevi Fountain, you get the gist. This year I'm back, for a little over a week (minus an upcoming weekend trip to Paris) before heading off to Poland for six weeks and about a week again on the way back. Having done all of the "big" stuff in Rome, I feel a lot more free to do what I want. My Dad's apartment is in the fantastic neighborhood of Trastevere (literally "across the Tiber") which is full of fantastic restaurants and great architecture. I spent a decent amount of time in Trastevere last visit (although the apartment at the time was in Aventino) but I'm really excited to get to know it better.

The courtyard inside the apartment complex

The title of this blog is a little deceptive. I won't actually be writing purely about my adventures in Rome. As I mentioned earlier, I'll be in Poland for about six weeks, where I'll be helping run the lab at a 17th century cemetery excavation (see http://www.slavia.org/index.php for a little more detail). But part of my whole off the beaten path plan is to live at least somewhat like the locals. When in Rome, right?

(Apparently things aren't too different here, as I'm sleeping on the 

exact same Ikea bed I have at home.)