Well, it was actually a little bit more than that today, as I think I can safely say I completed the Parisian marathon on my first day in the city. Save for my trip on the metro to get away from my cousin's apartment this morning, I did not take it again until tonight to come home. I like it that way, though. There were times that I easily could have hopped on and saved 30 minutes, but you can't see anything from underground, and that's a sad way to miss a lot of special things. So marching it was for me.
First stop: the Louvre. I decided to go today because I hoped that on a Thursday morning I would not have crowds to contend with. I was right. The first exhibit I checked out was the Egyptian collection (that's for you Kelly, if you're reading this). Next was the large collection of French paintings, where I found one of my favorite rooms yet. It was a room devoted to the epic, and by epic I mean both in execution and size, paintings of the history of Alexander the Great, done by Charles Le Brun. Of course, I also found the requisites, like the Grand Gallery and the Mona Lisa, but these paintings by far moved me the most.
After 2.5 hours, I was ready for lunch, so I began my first epic trek of the day, walking about an hour to find the singular restaurant I had in mind, as suggested by my grandma: Les Enfants de Paris, all the way off in the 11th. It is a Brazilian-French fusion restaurant that was well worth the hike. I ordered the lunch prix fixe menu, which first brought me a Thai shrimp soup to start. It was rich and hearty with a coconut milk broth, cut by slices of pickled ginger and bamboo that added a pleasant little kick to it as well. Next was a lightly battered and pan-fried sole, accompanied by a garlic aioli and a smooth helping of pomme puree, which I can only assume was flavored with a little tomato, which I am guessing from the color and taste as I could not tell from the French menu. To go with it, I had a glass of Alsatian Riesling. Like I said, worth the hike.
Next up, I marched back in the other direction to find Notre Dame and Saint Chapelle, back towards the center of the city. Along the way, I picked up an apple crepe. Yum. Notre Dame was spectacular, though in my opinion it is more incredible from the outside than in. Sadly, Saint Chapelle was closing, so I'll have to go back tomorrow, but I was able to find a small but moving Holocaust memorial in the park just behind Notre Dame. Though hidden and sparsely adorned, it was a solemn tribute that needed no words or images to convey its message.
Because I am a sadist, I decided to walk back to the Louvre for round two, since my ticket was good for the day. This time, I had one particular exhibit in mind: Napoleon's apartments, restored to look as if the little man himself were still kicking it there. The instant I walked in, I felt as though I had been there before, which, in fact, I have, about ten years ago. After a truly wonderful day of exploring Paris on my own, it was finally time to socialize a bit, so I started hour-long march number two, heading off in the direction of the Eiffel Tower to meet up with my friends and find out what they had been up to. Along the way, I of course stopped in just about every pastry shop I saw, debating the pros and cons of every pastry option. Finally, I made a choice: macarons. Seeing as it was nearly 6:00 pm, I kept i light, sampling a coffee and a pecan macaron. Let's just say that there was a party going on in, on, and around my mouth.
The journey finally came to an end as I found the rest of my fell0w-tourists at a cafe and we headed off to dinner, this time on the metro. After some meandering, we settled on a promising bistro and wine bar. When I asked the waiter her opinion on which mussels I should get, she was a little iffy, which I found odd. But when I inquired about the duck confit, she instantly lit up. My only response was to close my menu and smile. Canard confit it would be. And boy was she right.
Underneath a deeply browned skin was meat that literally fell apart at the touch of a fork, moist and flavorful. Alongside it were heavenly roasted potatoes and simple haricot verts, both of which I dipped in the spiciest of dijon mustards sitting on the table. Like I said, I am a sadist. To drink, I ordered myself a carafe of Cotes de Rhone Bertrand. It grew on me as the meal went on and accompanied the duck well, but it was nothing special compared to its poultry counterpart.
Because no day in Paris would be complete without one final indulgence, and I had already had my crepe for the day, on my back to the metro to head home I popped into the nearest bakery and ogled the selection. Pie and tarts tend to be my go-to bakery items, my vice really. The choice was not easy, as the spread ranged from pear to pecan, from cheese to flan. Finally, though, I had to make up my mind, and I went with the new and unknown: rhubarb. Though I am familiar with rhubarb as a popular pie filler, often accompanying strawberry, I've never before had it. So that made up my mind, and I was in no way disappointed. Walking to the Bastille to catch the metro home, rhubarb pie in hand, I could only think, "I hope tomorrow is as good."
(As a side note, I for once have a camera for this trip, as my friend Kelsey generously lent me her spare. I don't have the USB cable, so I will upload all the pictures back in Barcelona.)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Aux Champs-Élysées. Au soleil, sous la pluie.
That's right, you guessed it. Tomorrow, I'll be singing my way around Paris, sipping wine, eating macarons, and living it up. It's been a long time coming and I am giddy as can be.
Despite the fact that I have been before, though it was far too long ago, Paris was instantly at the top of my list of places to go when I knew I would be spending the semester in Europe. I've already been to Amsterdam this semester, which was undoubtedly a trip, and a fantastic city that I would more than happily return to. But, the allure of Paris was, and is, greater. What it is, who can say?
Oh wait, I can: The food and wine of course!
If you know anything about me at all, it should be these three things: I like to bike, I like to eat, and I like to drink good wine. Period. Evan in a sentence. And if Paris is not the epicenter of the gastronomical world, then I've been sorely mislead. Through in an obvious affinity for cycling in all of France, and you have the makings for a match made in heaven.
Sure, you could say that Barcelona offers many of the same things. After all, on CNN's list of the world's Top 50 restaurants that I read before leaving for the semester, Spain notched five spots. And both Barcelona and Spain as a whole certainly have all the above attributes, and I did choose to spend the semester in Barcelona for a reason. But still, something about Paris is different. If I knew exactly what, I would tell you. Since I was only 11 years old the last time I was there, though, I can't say I know. I'm hoping that by the time I get back on Sunday I'll have an answer for you. Until then, it's munch, munch, munch, munch, munch. Oh, and gulp, gulp, gulp too.
I'll try to do a little food blogging while there. (Obviously there won't be any bike blogging since I don't trust EasyJet with my bike, and the fee would set me back a whole lot of meals and whole lot of bottles of wine.) My accommodations are going to be just as good as my provisions, too. For the first two nights I'm going to stay in my cousin's apartment. For the second two, my mom was able to set me up with a gorgeous room in a four-star hotel de gratis to help solve a little housing crisis my friends and I had last evening. That works for me. Thanks, Mom. I'll have a drink for you.
Despite the fact that I have been before, though it was far too long ago, Paris was instantly at the top of my list of places to go when I knew I would be spending the semester in Europe. I've already been to Amsterdam this semester, which was undoubtedly a trip, and a fantastic city that I would more than happily return to. But, the allure of Paris was, and is, greater. What it is, who can say?
Oh wait, I can: The food and wine of course!
If you know anything about me at all, it should be these three things: I like to bike, I like to eat, and I like to drink good wine. Period. Evan in a sentence. And if Paris is not the epicenter of the gastronomical world, then I've been sorely mislead. Through in an obvious affinity for cycling in all of France, and you have the makings for a match made in heaven.
Sure, you could say that Barcelona offers many of the same things. After all, on CNN's list of the world's Top 50 restaurants that I read before leaving for the semester, Spain notched five spots. And both Barcelona and Spain as a whole certainly have all the above attributes, and I did choose to spend the semester in Barcelona for a reason. But still, something about Paris is different. If I knew exactly what, I would tell you. Since I was only 11 years old the last time I was there, though, I can't say I know. I'm hoping that by the time I get back on Sunday I'll have an answer for you. Until then, it's munch, munch, munch, munch, munch. Oh, and gulp, gulp, gulp too.
I'll try to do a little food blogging while there. (Obviously there won't be any bike blogging since I don't trust EasyJet with my bike, and the fee would set me back a whole lot of meals and whole lot of bottles of wine.) My accommodations are going to be just as good as my provisions, too. For the first two nights I'm going to stay in my cousin's apartment. For the second two, my mom was able to set me up with a gorgeous room in a four-star hotel de gratis to help solve a little housing crisis my friends and I had last evening. That works for me. Thanks, Mom. I'll have a drink for you.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The morning special
It's currently not even 3:00 pm yet, and my food count today is already through the roof. So far, I have eaten:
2 eggs, 1/2 a baguette with jam (breakfast)
1 Nutella and honey sandwich, 1/2 peanut butter sandwich (on the bike)
1 large unidentified pastry (post-ride)
1 entire mushroom pizza, meant for two (lunch)
1 tuna bocadillo (lunch number 2)
As a side note, for you unfortunate Americans still eating sandwiches between two pieces of sliced bread, a bocadillo is the Spanish version of a sandwich, made on a baguette and usually with some form of ham, tuna, or a tortilla. We could learn a thing or two from them about bread selection.
Anyway, the reason for the absurd amount of food I have torn into today is this morning's ride. A few weeks ago, I met Ismael, a cyclist from a town nearby whom I saw on a ride one day and decided to approach and ask if I could come alone. To make a long story short, I would say we have become friends very quickly and have ridden together often. This morning, I joined Ismael and some of his friends on a great ride. It would not have been too hunger-inducing, despite the extremely fast pace for November thanks to one or two very eager beavers, but the 45 minutes of riding pre- and post-route, both of which included 5-6km of climbing, tacked on enough to put me deep in the hunger cave. Fortunately, there is lots of daylight left for me to dig myself out of that cave, fork and knife in hand.
And that is one of the beauties of getting out and riding in the morning: you can ride 4+ hours and still actually have a day. Rather than leaving at 10 or 11 and not getting home until well into the afternoon, I was home by 12:30, a quality morning in the saddle already in my legs. You know that saying, "Why do today what can be put off for tomorrow?" Well, I couldn't disagree more.
Finally, I have to say how lucky I am to have met Ismael, as well as all the other riders I have befriended here. Walking around the city, going to museums, and traveling to other European destinations are all ways to explore a new place while abroad, and there is nothing wrong with any of them. But for me, there is no better way to see a place than to spend time with the people who live there and know it best. And perched atop a bicycle, it all goes by at just the right speed. Excuse me for butchering this, but a friend of mine once said to me, "A bicycle is the perfect way to see the world. By foot, you go too slowly to see enough. In a car, it goes by too quickly to see anything at all. On a bike, everything is just right." Now that I can agree with.
2 eggs, 1/2 a baguette with jam (breakfast)
1 Nutella and honey sandwich, 1/2 peanut butter sandwich (on the bike)
1 large unidentified pastry (post-ride)
1 entire mushroom pizza, meant for two (lunch)
1 tuna bocadillo (lunch number 2)
As a side note, for you unfortunate Americans still eating sandwiches between two pieces of sliced bread, a bocadillo is the Spanish version of a sandwich, made on a baguette and usually with some form of ham, tuna, or a tortilla. We could learn a thing or two from them about bread selection.
Anyway, the reason for the absurd amount of food I have torn into today is this morning's ride. A few weeks ago, I met Ismael, a cyclist from a town nearby whom I saw on a ride one day and decided to approach and ask if I could come alone. To make a long story short, I would say we have become friends very quickly and have ridden together often. This morning, I joined Ismael and some of his friends on a great ride. It would not have been too hunger-inducing, despite the extremely fast pace for November thanks to one or two very eager beavers, but the 45 minutes of riding pre- and post-route, both of which included 5-6km of climbing, tacked on enough to put me deep in the hunger cave. Fortunately, there is lots of daylight left for me to dig myself out of that cave, fork and knife in hand.
And that is one of the beauties of getting out and riding in the morning: you can ride 4+ hours and still actually have a day. Rather than leaving at 10 or 11 and not getting home until well into the afternoon, I was home by 12:30, a quality morning in the saddle already in my legs. You know that saying, "Why do today what can be put off for tomorrow?" Well, I couldn't disagree more.
Finally, I have to say how lucky I am to have met Ismael, as well as all the other riders I have befriended here. Walking around the city, going to museums, and traveling to other European destinations are all ways to explore a new place while abroad, and there is nothing wrong with any of them. But for me, there is no better way to see a place than to spend time with the people who live there and know it best. And perched atop a bicycle, it all goes by at just the right speed. Excuse me for butchering this, but a friend of mine once said to me, "A bicycle is the perfect way to see the world. By foot, you go too slowly to see enough. In a car, it goes by too quickly to see anything at all. On a bike, everything is just right." Now that I can agree with.
Friday, November 12, 2010
When things go right
Some things are just blog-worthy. What I have been up to in the four months since my last post, not blog-worthy. Today's events, definitely so. To give you some context in as few words as possible, though, I am currently in Barcelona, where I have been since August to study abroad and will be until December. Four months, in a nutshell.
Anyway, today I finally got the chance to do something that I have been hoping to do and excitedly looking forward to since I first confirmed that I would coming to Barcelona: ride with Michael Barry. We had never met before, but thanks to his writing in the New York Times, Velonews, and his own blog, not to mention his racing, I knew I admired the man. So I shot him an email and hoped for the best. To my delight, his answer was yes. (So this doesn't turn into a game of Jeopardy, my question was whether or not I could come to his hometown of Girona to ride together.) It never hurts to ask.
So at 6:30 am I was making coffee and eggs before hopping on the bike to catch the 8:15 train to Girona. By 10, we were rolling over to a cafe to pick up a friend of Michael's and then off to the open roads. Since I don't want to sound like some teenage pop-star groupie, though I guess I am in my own nerdy way, I'll just say that the day was everything I hoped it would be. The riding was fantastic, and I'm wondering why I don't live in Girona already. We climbed to a gorgeous reservoir that feeds (if that is the right word for drinking water) Barcelona, before ascending what I can only describe as a dirt and rock wall. With hardly a car to share the road with for the majority of the ride, we could pedal and talk care-free for 4 hours. Topped off with a delicious lunch back in Girona, the day could not have been better.
And that is one of things I love most about this sport: how easily we can share it. No matter how badly I wanted to, I could not go play catch with, say, Derek Jeter - though I would never actually want to since I am an unfortunate but painfully loyal Mets fan. But one of my favorite cyclists? No problem. And the fact that he's willing to host me in his hometown and on his favorite roads, even better. Like I said before, it never hurts to ask.
"So, how do we know you aren't just making this up to make us all jealous?" you might ask. Well, I don't own a camera, as I told my dad when he said I should bring one along. Fortunately, though, Michael does own a camera, so there are few pictures from the day so that especially all you New Englanders can be jealous of what I'm getting to do in the so-called winter here in Spain. I may miss fall in New England, and I most definitely miss apple pie (had to get a food reference in there somewhere), but I sure as hell don't miss freezing my balls off.
I'm not going to make any promises, but I will try to make blogging a more regular thing again. If nothing else, it will at least give me a reason to go find and do worthwhile things to blog about. And if anyone knows where to find a good pie in Spain, please let me know. The pastries here are delicious and cheap, but something about that gooey, fruity filling encased in a flaky and crunchy pie crust is just irreplaceable. The apple tarts just aren't cutting it.
Anyway, today I finally got the chance to do something that I have been hoping to do and excitedly looking forward to since I first confirmed that I would coming to Barcelona: ride with Michael Barry. We had never met before, but thanks to his writing in the New York Times, Velonews, and his own blog, not to mention his racing, I knew I admired the man. So I shot him an email and hoped for the best. To my delight, his answer was yes. (So this doesn't turn into a game of Jeopardy, my question was whether or not I could come to his hometown of Girona to ride together.) It never hurts to ask.
So at 6:30 am I was making coffee and eggs before hopping on the bike to catch the 8:15 train to Girona. By 10, we were rolling over to a cafe to pick up a friend of Michael's and then off to the open roads. Since I don't want to sound like some teenage pop-star groupie, though I guess I am in my own nerdy way, I'll just say that the day was everything I hoped it would be. The riding was fantastic, and I'm wondering why I don't live in Girona already. We climbed to a gorgeous reservoir that feeds (if that is the right word for drinking water) Barcelona, before ascending what I can only describe as a dirt and rock wall. With hardly a car to share the road with for the majority of the ride, we could pedal and talk care-free for 4 hours. Topped off with a delicious lunch back in Girona, the day could not have been better.
And that is one of things I love most about this sport: how easily we can share it. No matter how badly I wanted to, I could not go play catch with, say, Derek Jeter - though I would never actually want to since I am an unfortunate but painfully loyal Mets fan. But one of my favorite cyclists? No problem. And the fact that he's willing to host me in his hometown and on his favorite roads, even better. Like I said before, it never hurts to ask."So, how do we know you aren't just making this up to make us all jealous?" you might ask. Well, I don't own a camera, as I told my dad when he said I should bring one along. Fortunately, though, Michael does own a camera, so there are few pictures from the day so that especially all you New Englanders can be jealous of what I'm getting to do in the so-called winter here in Spain. I may miss fall in New England, and I most definitely miss apple pie (had to get a food reference in there somewhere), but I sure as hell don't miss freezing my balls off.
I'm not going to make any promises, but I will try to make blogging a more regular thing again. If nothing else, it will at least give me a reason to go find and do worthwhile things to blog about. And if anyone knows where to find a good pie in Spain, please let me know. The pastries here are delicious and cheap, but something about that gooey, fruity filling encased in a flaky and crunchy pie crust is just irreplaceable. The apple tarts just aren't cutting it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
It's Getting Hot In Here
My living room that is. One month removed from the worst crash of my career so far, and hopefully the worst I'll ever have, I'm happy to say that I've found peace, and a routine. Though unwanted and at times utterly demoralizing, this forced break has caused me to take a step back and reassess my approach to training and my connection to this sport.
Starting with the latter, I now know beyond all doubt that I love cycling. It' been 4 weeks since I've seen a road or raced my bike, and I can honestly say that I do not feel whole. I'm definitely eager to be back. As for the former, I've adopted a somewhat new approach to training that has allowed me to settle into a very tolerable routine on the trainer. Not only has this change in direction helped me get through this time and stay in shape, but I am confident that it will both bring me back in better form than ever before and serve me well in the future as I continue to apply it back on the road.
Admittedly, this past month has not been all unicorns and rainbows. There have been some darker days that have admittedly reduced me to a state of considerable depression. It sucks when you can't do the things you love. There is just no other way to put it. But when you truly love them, you do the best you can and you survive. You find inspiration all around you and you realize that time heals all wounds, and that soon enough you will have those things back. Today, that inspiration came from cycling itself. It came from Sylvain Chavanel.
Recovering from a skull fracture just 2 months ago, Chavanel returned to racing with gusto and with love. The tears he shed today were not just the tears of some overly emotional athlete, like the ones we've sees from World Cup players the past few weeks. They were the tears of redemption. They were tears that proved how strong the human heart and will are, and they were the tears that will get me through this last leg of my recovery.
As Chavanel said himself after his win this morning, "It just goes to show that you should never give up. I had a really hard time recovering from my injury two months ago, and even before that I only had some top 20 placings in the Spring Classics even though I was always in the right group. And then, when I think of all these hours of training in front of the TV, watching the Giro... I can put all of that behind me now."
See you all soon.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Winner, winner chicken dinner
I have to admit that I've been struggling lately to keep my head up and not get too down on myself. Anyone reading here probably knows that I've been through a pretty rough stretch lately and it has taken a lot for me to stay positive. It hasn't been getting any easier.
I love to race my bike, and I love to ride my bike. I love to cook, and I most definitely love to eat. These are the things that make me most happy. Right now, though, they've all been taken away from me. I'm stuck on the trainer every single day, trapped indoors with only thumping techno or the endless drone of World Cup fans to drone out the whir of the trainer. That's not bike riding. What more? Cooking is a struggle, as I cannot chop anything and all other kitchen tasks are made ever-more difficult as well. Finally, with less riding than I would be logging sans-injury, I simply cannot eat as much as I would like if I want to maintain my lovely figure. (As you may recall from a previous post, I am a firm believer that happiness is a direct correlation to pancake consumption. And pancake consumption is down, way down.)
Could things be worse? Yes, they most definitely could. But they could be much better too.
Now that you probably think I'm a total downer in need of a good doctor or at least a little "medicinal" relief, I'm going to flip things around on you.
Yesterday, my teammate and awesome friend Emerson Oronte soloed to the win at the Purgatory Road Race. He has been getting stronger weekend after weekend and looks like he is approaching his best form yet just in time for U23 Nationals, where I know he is going to crush it. Though I couldn't be there with him, that win means more to me than I begin to verbalize. It inspires me to work harder than I did before. It presents me with a tangible goal to work toward, namely making myself the best and most determined rider I can so that, when I'm back, I can support my friend better then I could before. Whereas before I was upset as I felt that I was being left behind by those around me who are meeting their goals and achieving success, now I'm just more determined than ever. Whereas before all I had was anger to drive me, now I have inspiration. That's a dangerous combination. So look out, because I'll be back before you know. And now I'm pissed, but with a purpose.
I love to race my bike, and I love to ride my bike. I love to cook, and I most definitely love to eat. These are the things that make me most happy. Right now, though, they've all been taken away from me. I'm stuck on the trainer every single day, trapped indoors with only thumping techno or the endless drone of World Cup fans to drone out the whir of the trainer. That's not bike riding. What more? Cooking is a struggle, as I cannot chop anything and all other kitchen tasks are made ever-more difficult as well. Finally, with less riding than I would be logging sans-injury, I simply cannot eat as much as I would like if I want to maintain my lovely figure. (As you may recall from a previous post, I am a firm believer that happiness is a direct correlation to pancake consumption. And pancake consumption is down, way down.)
Could things be worse? Yes, they most definitely could. But they could be much better too.
Now that you probably think I'm a total downer in need of a good doctor or at least a little "medicinal" relief, I'm going to flip things around on you.
Yesterday, my teammate and awesome friend Emerson Oronte soloed to the win at the Purgatory Road Race. He has been getting stronger weekend after weekend and looks like he is approaching his best form yet just in time for U23 Nationals, where I know he is going to crush it. Though I couldn't be there with him, that win means more to me than I begin to verbalize. It inspires me to work harder than I did before. It presents me with a tangible goal to work toward, namely making myself the best and most determined rider I can so that, when I'm back, I can support my friend better then I could before. Whereas before I was upset as I felt that I was being left behind by those around me who are meeting their goals and achieving success, now I'm just more determined than ever. Whereas before all I had was anger to drive me, now I have inspiration. That's a dangerous combination. So look out, because I'll be back before you know. And now I'm pissed, but with a purpose.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Crash bang boom
So just when I thought I'd hit rock bottom already and was due for some good fortunes, it all came crashing down again...quite literally.
By now, I'm sure that many of you already know about how the P1/2 road race at Connecticut was cut short, so I'll skip the details. That and I am currently typing challenged, and just these two paragraphs have taken me an unduly long amount of time to hammer out. So I'll just skip to my own injury report, following my visit to the orthopedist yesterday.
I'm recovering from my crash and I feel well, but it turns out the damage was worse than I thought. My knee is alright and I should have the green light to ride the trainer by this weekend and will get the stitches out some time next week. My hand, though, is going to keep me out of commission for a bit longer.
My pinky is essentially broken in half, so the fear is that the two plates of bone could slide or rotate out of place, requiring surgery. Also, I badly sprained the ligaments in my thumb, which could degrade into a tear. So I left the orthopedist yesterday in a full hand cast that goes halfway to my elbow. I will need it for 4 weeks and will find out next week whether or not I need surgery.
So that's the report. I'm hoping to start riding the trainer soon and plan to get in the gym as soon as the stitches come out. Maybe I finally won't be so freaking skinny any more. Could be good for me. Who knows.
I'm definitely hopeful to be back in action by Fitchburg, but I wouldn't count on it. This won't be season-ending, but it's going to force a major shift in goals unfortunately. Time to find some perspective. I'll let you know when I do.
By now, I'm sure that many of you already know about how the P1/2 road race at Connecticut was cut short, so I'll skip the details. That and I am currently typing challenged, and just these two paragraphs have taken me an unduly long amount of time to hammer out. So I'll just skip to my own injury report, following my visit to the orthopedist yesterday.
I'm recovering from my crash and I feel well, but it turns out the damage was worse than I thought. My knee is alright and I should have the green light to ride the trainer by this weekend and will get the stitches out some time next week. My hand, though, is going to keep me out of commission for a bit longer.
So that's the report. I'm hoping to start riding the trainer soon and plan to get in the gym as soon as the stitches come out. Maybe I finally won't be so freaking skinny any more. Could be good for me. Who knows.
I'm definitely hopeful to be back in action by Fitchburg, but I wouldn't count on it. This won't be season-ending, but it's going to force a major shift in goals unfortunately. Time to find some perspective. I'll let you know when I do.
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