cutlery, chinese rooms, steak frites

Abby wanted a break day, which I wasn’t too thrilled about, but since I’m the best friend in the entire world, I let her have this one. We leave the house at 9:45 AM and take the orange line down to the Marais, which was somehow the most jam-packed train we’ve had yet.

We wander around the streets for a bit, but little is open, despite it almost being 11 AM. I think that’s sort of ridiculous. Are there not people who want to shop for overpriced items in the morning? There’s one goal we have in mind—ever since booking this trip, I’ve been gunning for us to hit up a place called Sabre Forks. They have an outlet in the Marais which allows you to customize cutlery with your preferred finish, plus two separate colors on either side. I want us both to choose a color so we can have Addy-Abby cutlery. Now that I’m writing this out, this sounds extremely corny. But I don’t care, and I’m quite pleased with my teal-burgundy (it looks better than you’d think) fork and spoons.

Down to Place des Vosges to wait out the time it takes to assemble our cutlery. My tote bag holds every single book I’ve bought so far on this trip (better to be prepared than not… right?), but I end up selecting Giovanni’s Room, which you may remember from an earlier installment. It was a fantastic book (4.6/5), and I ended up tearing through it. Near where I was sitting, an amateur photographer was snapping photos of this girl. The guy sunbathing next to me was quite annoyed at his lack of knowledge of lighting, and told him to move so he wouldn’t get shadows all over her face. Apparently he WANTED the shadows, which made the sunbather quite annoyed. He looks over to me, completely disgruntled. “This man doesn’t know ANYTHING about photography!” I decide to give him a satisfying nod in return, which he ends up being pleased with.

Then it was time for lunch—we don’t go far, just to a nearby brasserie, where I end up ordering salmon, and Abby ordering duck. This was the most flavorful thing we’ve eaten on this trip so far, and it tastes like a great relief. It’s served with a mound of pommes purée mixed with spinach, which makes me slightly sad because spinach is one of the worst things ever invented. But I eat it anyway.

Back to Place des Vosges to check out Victor Hugo’s house. As a huge fan of his work (I’ve only seen the musicals), I was excited to see where his greatest ideas had come into fruition. It turns out he was a pretty fascinating guy—he was exiled by Napoleon for his views (he was too liberal). He was also an incredibly accomplished artist—there were all these wonderful architectural drawings up for display. Didn’t even know he could do that. Then we trek upstairs to his actual apartment, which is more so a recreation of several rooms he lived in. While he did live in this exact place, he moved around so frequently (considering his being exiled and all) that it was easier to order these various recreated rooms chronologically.

We stumble upon his Chinese Room, which is completely over-the-top, filled with Chinese memorabilia. It’s almost impressive, but the scariness of it all trumps that initial feeling. I’ve never seen someone so in love with Asian people, and believe me, I’ve met many, if you catch my drift. The only thing I wanted more of in this museum was Les Misèrables items! I really don’t feel like they showcased enough of his novels at all, just weird Chinese items. Luckily, I’m able to purchase a Gavroche postcard. You can sleep easy tonight.

Our cutlery is finished, so we exit the museum and head back over to Sabre Forks. This was great fun—they look great. Then, back to the metro, and back to the loft for more relaxation time. I realized I kind of hate just hanging out in the loft. I don’t mind the park-rotting as much, but I just feel like I’m wasting loads of time in the loft.

And waste time I do. Two hours fly by, and then we head back on the orange line for our fancy dinner. Abby and I head in and order the steak frites, which has really been a defining dish of our friendship. We got it in New York, for Abby’s birthdays, and now in Paris! This was a great one though—definitely the best thing we’ve eaten all trip. Forgot I told them it was my birthday, so I was a bit humiliated when my vanilla ice cream came with a massive sparkler and a half-dozen waiters in tow to sing me “Joyeux Anniversaire”. Happy birthday to me!

The washing machine back at the AirBNB ended up being broken, so I washed my clothes in the bathtub, which was an interesting experience.