La vie.

On my way back from a French cuisine lesson, a man on the Metro was playing the accordion.

Yes, really. This is my life.

Tell me, how did I get so lucky? After taking a tour of Pigalle after class, stopping for a chocolat chaud in the Musée de la Vie Romantique (so French), I went to a woman’s house to learn how to make food, the French way. The menu? Soup provençale, soufflé au fromage and tarte sablée au chocolat noir. Basically soup, cheese soufflé and chocolate tart. Pas mal.

Honestly it was so good, and – although it took a while to teach us (there were only four of us) how to make everything – the recipes were fairly simple. Plus, her apartment was beautiful; it was filled with old maps and African masks and other antiques. If there were any doubt that food was important to the French, let me tell you, all of the stereotypes stand true.

I returned to an apartment at peak soirée (By the way, I hope you’ve noticed how many words we use in English are actually French. Soir means evening.). The apartment was full of Vincent and Sophie’s friends, and I was able to carry on a conversation with a couple. It’s exciting to notice the subtle improvements in my French; I can’t wait to see how it is at the end of my time here.

Anyways, I’ll leave you with a few pictures to ogle at. Just don’t blame me for any drool on your keyboard.