[Blog] #Paris: Red Light #Bastille District, #PhoGa, #Noisettes and #Cigarettes

9/13 A morning of hungoverness. The night before was spent in the icky Bastille District, which is known as Paris' Red Light District. Why the hell were we there? Just another part of Paris to explore. Nothing special. The area reminded me of the bar strip in NYC next to NYU, a typical place for college students to get wasted. That morning, I walked to thé market in thé rain. Melancholy and dehydrated.  Bought some fruit home. Amazing how the selection was so minimal. I bought some plums, blueberries and grape fruits. I never want to forget that walk. The rain and the cobblestone streets down 16e District was right out the 1st scene from Beauty and the Beast, minus the rain. 

Went to eat pho at Pho 14! No fancy French name - perhaps Maison Pho? No, just Pho 14. Straight to the point. Pho ga was damn delicious, but nothing compared to my favorite Pho Ga restaurant in San Francisco, Turtle Tower. After, had a coffee and cigarette, just like the French film called, "Coffee and Cigarettes" and conversed with a French gentleman on the topic of relationships. He said all men cheat. Thanks French guy. The waiter gave me his lighter. Thanks for enabling my temporary bad habit! Then another coffee ... And some tea...then another cup of noisette, which is a hazelnut espresso. We stayed out until 4am and instead of walking around the most confusing roundabout in Paris off the Opera train station (my God I felt like I was in The Labrinth), we ended up on a bar strip that reminded me of college bar hopping years. I think I had another espresso at some corner cafe. So wired. The Parisian way. I really like the presentation of the espresso at cafés. It's so precise it almost looks like a bunch of surgical tools... Ewe not appetizing when I describe it that way. Came home to tidy up and prepare for the next day's train ride to The Palace of Versailles! I will write more about the palace in a later post. 

9/14 We came home later in the night to prepare for our 8am flight to Spain. I said my goodbyes to the little chateau in 16E on the 2nd floor in a building on Rue Saint Francois millet or something or other. Goodbye weird toy boat that my host collected, goodbye little standup shower that I almost slipped out of because it was elevated so high on this wooden platform. Goodbye toilet that had a rope that hung from the ceiling for a flusher. Goodbye my host's mini fridge that had nothing but Jambon, jars of pate and jam, and other cured meats: bachelor food. Goodbye the bittersweet memories of a fairy tale turned reality check in this ity bitty icky home stay in the richest borough in Paris. This was a reminder that money doesn't buy you inner warmth and comfort and nice things always come with a price. The price I paid, I rather not say. 

Still don't know how I survived without knowing a lick of French. I remember asking a random guy for directions because he was wearing an Oakland Raiders hat. The French idolize America and I don't blame them. San Francisco and the rest of the Bay Area is pretty damn awesome. I think at that point I was getting homesick, but I immediately forgot about home once we boarded the TGV Atlantic #8533 train at 10:28am from Paris to Montparnass to Hendaye then finally onto our intended destination, San Sebastian, the unofficial foodie city of the world with the most Michelin rated restaurants in the world. Stay tuned for the next blog where Katrina will share her knowledge about Spanish tapas, or how the Basque call it, #pintxos! Kai - e -sho!