Happy Bastille Day!!!

Celebrating the above-pictured delusional "battle", so that one day Paris could have the below-pictured beautiful monument and opera house.

HAPPY BASTILLE DAY EVERYONE! I woke up this morning, and didn't realize it was Bastille Day until I saw all the French majors' Facebook statuses. Leave it to me to forget a day that commemorates a bunch of drunken Frenchmen storming a prison in an attempt to free what they believed to be hundreds of political prisoners, only to find there were six petty thieves and a lot of empty cells. It's like I'm doing this every other week.

But I personally believe that Bastille Day is much more that celebrating a misguided sense of French nationalism and liberty. It's also about celebrating a misguided sense of all things French, much in the way St. Patrick's Day does the same thing for the Irish. It's about everyone coming together over a bottle of red wine, cracking open a baguette, sniffing some brie, smoking inside and then blowing it in someone's face. It's about sitting and drinking coffee in a smokey jazz bar, listening to covers of Edith Piaf. It's about sitting in judgement of other people, later asking those same people for help when you have an angry-looking Prusisan, Englishman, or German at your door. It's all of these things and so much more. I've highlighted some examples of what you should aim for on this very exciting Bastille Day:

Option 1: The Catherine Deneuve
This gorgeous French film actress who rose to fame in the 60's is still alive and kicking (and in my opinion, hotter than ever). Do you see how she is both smoking a cigarette with a sexy look AND making you feel like you're less than her? That takes skill, my friends. Go for this look if you are over the age of 45, enjoy trench coats, or want to have a longstanding career of sexually ambiguous character roles.

Option 2: Zinedine Zidane
Famed soccer player who literally went out with a bang four years ago at the World Cup Final when he head-butted an Italian player. He combines the right amount of athleticism, weird European man-fashion, and general confusion on how to properly engage in public/on international television. Go for this look if you are guy, a bald woman, or take pride in overshadowing all the good you've done in your career with one ill-timed decision.

Option 3: Pepe Le Pew
One of my personal favorites, the Looney Toons character with a little bit of stank on him. He dresses in all grey-tones,  is kind of greasy, and enjoys chasing after women-skunks and/or cats that don't really want him. He is for all intents and purposes, the perfect Frenchman. Go for this look... always.


Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Frenchy" Yazge

Dans la Défense de la Reine

Love her.

I think of myself as a fairly intelligent person, capable of deciphering between fact and fiction. However, when it comes to movies, I prefer to imagine that everything presented to me is 100% solid fact. My interaction with Sophia Copolla's Marie Antoinette last night is a perfect example. For instance, I think that it's probably very likely that the real Queen of France listened to the lovable hipsters, MGMT. That just makes sense to me. Or that she thought that everything in Versailles was ridiculous. Because, honestly, if the sense of decorum/protocol was anything like the way it was represented in the movie, it was beyond ridiculous. Who really needs a crowded room full of people to help you change out of your nightie? Well, probably Anna Nicole Smith, may she rest in peace.

Here's another thing: Marie got a bad wrap. I really felt for her. It would SUCK to get yanked from not just your home, but your home country, and married off to a social moron at the age of 17. AND she had to leave her puppy behind. The world is a cruel, cruel place. Not only that, he lame-o husband didn't even want to sleep with her. I'm sorry, but when Kirsten Dunst is in the bed next to you, you step up and do your husbandly duties. It's just that simple. Also, I would have much preferred they not behead her. That was just a poor choice on their part.

After watching the movie, I'm now in a huge Paris mood. Edith Piaf is playing on my iPod, and I'm off in search of a baguette and brie. Wish me luck mes amis!

Au revoir!

Mathieu "Mon Dieu!" Yazge

Los Oscars

So, instead of live-blogging the Oscars, I've decided to NOT live-blog the Oscars. Great plan, no? I thought so. Surprisingly, there's nothing to make fun of. Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin had it covered. Instead I'd like to talk about someone that was not adequately made fun of...

MILEY CYRUS! 

She's kinda messed up. And on a stripper pole. Put it away Miley. No one wants to see it. Especially the girl in the background. You can't sing, you can't act, which is exactly why they cast you for that new Nicholas Sparks movie. Because the wanted an equally as horrible celebrity to go with the atrocious story line. I couldn't find anything from these Oscars yet, but here's one from last year, where she lived up to the nickname I gave her: shovel-face.

What has young Hollywood come to?

And as much as I think the Twilight series is absolutely ridiculous, albeit a wonderful guilty please, at least their actors/actresses have faces you can take in public. They can also dress themselves. More than I can say for Madame Shovel-Face, who decided to wear a training bra and a hula skirt that she ducktaped together. Please, don't look at her too long. You may go blind.

Look at this instead:

Catherine Deneuve: what all young actresses should aspire to.

Ciao Bella! (or not so bella, in the event that you're Miley Cyrus)

Matteo "No Shovel to the Face" Yazge

La Gioconda

Mona.

So the Louvre was fun. We spent so much time there... even taking into consideration how crazy huge that museum is. I also took this picture of my lady Mona intentionally with lots of space around it. It stresses how small the painting actually is. And I'm calling her out. I don't think she's actually smiling. I'm convinced it's more of a grimace. She had a wedgie and couldn't fix it because she had to be still for the portrait. That's a much more believable story. Women weren't happy during the Renaissance. Feminine mystique? Phooey.

I really wish I had the energy or creativity to write anything more. Maybe tomorrow I'll move on to London?

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Giocondo" Yazge

Un bambino del cibo

Salmon tartar. It's like a sashimi cake. And yes, I realize the picture above is steak tartar...

Salivation, French food is thy name. During our trip, we found the most amazing restaurant ever, thanks again to NYTimes travel section. Bistrot Victoires is fantastic, and has a very down to earth, every-day arrondissement-ers feel. There were French families and couples there eating. It was so fantastic that we went back a second night. Some of the others got this steak that had flaming thyme on top of it. My salmon tartar was insane... I've had tartar before, but never in a lump. Usually I've seen it in slices. For the arabs in the bunch, it was like Kibbey Neyeh, only made with salmon. Mom, you have to try to make that for Pascha this year.

I also have to confess, I caved again. I had duck. You can't go to Paris and NOT have Confit de Canard!  It was fantastic. Cooked so well it fell off the bone. Don't worry though. I used the prayer my Mosu taught me: "Dear Lord, grant me this wish. Turn this duck into a fish." I like to think he heard me.

It's also been a crazy couple of days here in Firenze. Jamie and I decided to try our hand at deep frying. We made Fiore di Zucche, or zucchini flowers. AMAZING. If you've never had zucchini flowers before, you need to go out right now and eat them. I don't even know how to begin to explain what they're like. I mean, they're flowers, but they're very vegetably? We also fried eggplant and zucchini sticks.

Which brings us to this morning. Jamie and I went to a cooking class on campus. The guy leading the session kept calling me "chef Matteo", so that was fun. And I learned that whenever you're making the base for a sauce, using white wine will clean the bottom of the pan (of burnt bits of pancetta and onion for example). Eggplant parm was also on the menu. The secret is to sprinkle the eggplant slices with salt and let them set for 2 hours before frying them. It gets all the extra water out of them. But what the people didn't do today, was adjust the rest of the recipe for the extra salt. YOU DON'T NEED ANY MORE SALT AFTER THE EGGPLANT! MY KIDNEYS ARE GOING INTO FAILURE! But still, it was delicious.

Ciao Bella!

"Chef Matteo" Yazge

Non e' Nancy!

That's not Nancy!

I was walking down the street today, and this totally happened to me. Someone started waiving, and I thought it was someone I knew. It wasn't. At all. I'm pretty sure she looked at me like I was a moron.

Speaking of seeing something familiar and then looking like a moron...

We found an American Apparel, and I promise that while in the picture it says American "pperal", it's the real deal. And because AA is part of our photo scavenger hunt, a photo shoot ensued... I promise that this pose is what one of the mannequins was doing in the window. Speaking of fashion though, everyone in Paris was very well dressed. Always. Even the babies. They looked like a bunch of midget J Crew models. I felt mildly underdressed the entire time we were in Paris.

BUT! I did find new shoes! Suede shoes! They're not blue though. So don't start singing or anything. Don't want to get over excited.

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Pparel Posin'" Yazge

Paris, je t'aime

Look how photogenic we are! Oh, and the Tower doesn't look that bad either...

OK. So it's late, I realize, but I needed to start blogging. Otherwise it might not ever happen. My sinuses have been acting up ever since we first left Florence, coughing, sneezing, drippy, phlegm phlegm phlegm... Attractive, no? So I just took some cough syrup and a Zyrtec, and should be passed out in roughly 10 minutes. So let's do this fast!

I figured I'd start with the most easily recognizable part of our trip: La Tour Eiffel! It was the first part of Paris I saw as our bus from the airport rounded the corner at night. It was all lit up and just as romantic as everyone has ever described it. It was ironic, because I was reading My Life in France, the Julia Child memoir, and she was describing her first view of Paris. We share that. I also like to think we also share a God-given talent for cooking and a charisma that wins over the masses...

While we were taking pictures with the tower, we spotted these two wedding couples taking pictures in front of the tower. You know how I mentioned a while back that we were doing a photo scavenger hunt? Well one of the tasks was to get a picture with a bride and groom. One was to get a picture with Asian tourists (with points proportional to the number of Asians). Another extra 3 points for a picture in a foreign country. 2 bonus points if the picture is taken outside Italy. Because the two bridal parties were entirely Asian, and standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, Jamie and I scored SERIOUS points.

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Tower Touring and Point Scoring" Yazge

P.S. - I regret to announce that the trip to Barcelona has been cancelled. Meridiana cancelled our flight, and there was no way to reschedule in a cost- or time-efficient manner. So we are taking suggestions for what I should do that weekend. Current options include Torino, Geneva, stay in Florence and recreate our own Barcelona complete with tapas and lisps. Whoever comes up with the best plan of action (including an itinerary of exciting activities) gets an all-expense paid trip to join me!

Just kidding! But I'll bake you some cookies? That sound good enough? Awesome.

La Chiese Russa di nuovo

It looks less ominous the second time around.

So I figure everyone deserves a second chance. Even rude priests. I went back to the Russian Church today, and it wasn't that bad. Partially because I showed up "late". The website says that they start Liturgy at 9:30. False. They start thinking about doing the pre-liturgical readings around 9:30. The service doesn't actually start until 10:15 or later. So when I showed up at 9:45, I still had to wait a good half an hour until Liturgy actually began. Instead of moaning like a bum like I did last time, I had private prayer time. All things considered, it was probably good for me.

I sang along to whatever hymns I knew, which was interesting because I knew the music, but clearly not the words. Slavonic isn't my forte. But apparently I was convincing enough that the woman standing in front of me offered to share the music she was holding - music that was written out in cyrillic. I just shrugged and said "Inglese". We both smiled and she turned around.

I may end up going back again, but as I'm spending most of my weekends out of town for the rest of the semester, I don't know when I'll be back next. I'm going to try to find an Orthodox Church in Paris and London. I feel those would both be fun experiences, one because it will be in French (hopefully) and the other because I'll actually understand what they're saying. Anyone been abroad and to an Orthodox Church they particularly enjoyed?

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Post Liturgical Nap-time" Yazge

L'Opera Bellissima

Amami, Alfredo.

We went back to the Opera last night for Il Trovatore, which ended up being a better cast than that of Rigoletto. I just need to remember to take a nap next time... before we go to the opera. Not during the 4th Act. Brooke and I decided to throw an aperativo - the Italian equivalent of drinks and appetizers - for our class before the show. It ended up only being four of us, but we had a nice time. Pear with peccarino and balsamic, red and green tomato bruschetta, homemade mushroom pasty puffs, peppers with tzatziki... and wine. My glass is probably what contributed to my nap. That and the fact that the Italians can't seem to grasp the concept of air conditioning. I'm sorry, but when you turn out the lights, crank up the heat, and make me listen to classical music, I'M GOING TO FALL ASLEEP! The people at NYU said that the Italians don't believe in air conditioning because they think it makes you sick. Right. And so they all smoke like chimneys because...?

But ignoring ignorance, I'd like to share how excited about La Traviata. It's one of the more moving love stories I've read/heard/seen. The really cool thing that I didn't realize until seeing La Traviata, is that Moulin Rouge takes almost all of its core plot developments from the opera. A "fallen woman" with consumption, a man who falls in love with her, story takes palce in Paris, a father figure who convinces her to lie and say she doesn't love the young man. I'd also like you to notice how Nicole Kidman and Anna Netrebko are both wearing red dresses. Just an awesome coincidence. I don't, however, think it's a coincidence that I love the music to both. La Traviata is the first operatic score that I would listen to from start to finish and be emotionally moved the whole way through. I'm so glad I ordered the Netrebko DVD. You should too. Prontissimo.

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "the Troubador" Yazge

Davvero?!?!

Hot Mess, party of two?

I can understand how some might believe Lindsay Lohan to belong in the world of fashion. She is indeed rail thin, she's had her fair share of addictions, and she refuses to eat. All things near and dear to the fashion industry's heart. But if you heard anything about the Ungaro runway show in Paris this week, there should no longer be any doubt in your mind about Ms. Lohan's capacity to work in the world of fashion.

The New York Times review of the Ungaro showing, for which Lindsay was artistic advisor, didn't spare anyone's feelings. Apparently, attendees of the show were BOLTING for the doors as soon as it was over. For the second show, one of the photographers asked people in the front row to pose like Lindsay, with their hands shyly in front of their faces. I'm suprised that she even has the strength to lift her poor little emaciated arms after putting so much time and crazy into the clothes. How anyone thought that she should be a vital part of any high-end fashion line is beyond me. I don't know how designer Estrella Archs can stand to work with her. Her predecessor, Esteban Cortezar, had the right idea when he quit upon the suggestion that he work with Lindsay. Eric Wilson puts it perfectly in his article:

But Ms. Lohan’s arrival at a 45-year-old Paris house known for $1,500 dresses and a tradition of couture craftsmanship is entirely different, something akin to a McDonald’s fry cook taking the reins of a three-star Michelin restaurant.

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Lohan-Loathing" Yazge

I formaggi

Apres brie, le deluge...

First of all, I would like to thank you all for the votes of confidence and overwhelmingly impressive job of appeasing my desire to travel. Good work team! I'm booking my ticket for Paris as soon as Liz gives me the go-ahead (she has to double check something with her professor first). I now just have to decide if I want to take the 2pm flight for 45 euro, or the 7am flight for 100 euro. Decisions, decisions...

But unfortunately, I must now change the subject to a more dire matter. I need your help in battling an addiction I've had for some time. Yes, that's right. I've been fighting a silent, but rather nasty battle, like many great artists before me: Poe, Edith Piaf, Ray Charles... Lindsay Lohan. I know that this must shock and upset many of you, but the first step towards recovery is admitting that you indeed have a problem. Last night I saw that problem manifest itself in the most obscene behavior. Because were out of baguette, I was forced to shave off slices of red onion, put them on greasy potato chips, smear them with brie and devour anything else that got between that horrid combination and my mouth. I was out of control. Moderation knew not my name. There were chip shavings everywhere, smeared cheese wax on the table, and if a camera had been there to document the horrid and ghoulish looks on my face I most certainly would have ended up in the tabloids by 9am this morning.

Of course, I regret such behavior and wish that I could take it back. I could try to blame it on an alien baby inside of me, hungering for saturated fats and odorous vegetables. I could blame it on the emotional "fat child" that's lived inside me from a very young age - you know him, and you saw him take over my body briefly after childbirth until the age of 3, and again between grades 3 and 7. I could even try to blame it on my monthly cycle, as I'm sure I'll soon be bloated and moody. But no. That would be an error on my part and never allow me to properly move on from such a traumatic experience. Instead, I humbly beseech your prayers and messages of hope for a brighter future in the gourmet. With your help, and most likely that of a trained professional and heavy medication, I hope to one day be able to snack responsibly.


Repentantly yours,

Matteo "Downy Jr" Yazge


(For the record, I tried to Wikipedia "famous alcoholics" and it came back with a message saying "did you mean famous catholics?" Hilarious.)

Fare o non fare?

This could be Liz and I on Thanksgiving

OK Team, I need your input. I have a very critical decision to make, and I want everyone's opinion. No exceptions. Are you ready for it? Are you ready? Here it goes:

Liz and I really wanted to see Paris together, but I'm already going for the first half of Fall Break. As Liz and I spoke further about the matter, she told me that the only time she could go is the weekend of November 27th - Thanksgiving weekend. The reason why that's the only weekend that works is because she wants to take a 3 hour cooking lesson at Le Cordon Bleu. That would be where Julia Child got her start. Fantastic. So I think that I'd really love to do this, but should I go back to Paris that weekend instead of doing something else? Plus the class costs something like $75 US. But how many chances do you get to take a cooking class at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris?! I'm conflicted, but not really. I just need everyone to tell me that I should go do it. Can you do that for me? I just need lots of positive affirmation right now. Oh! Oh! And don't forget how amazing Thanksgiving in Paris could be. Especially after I've learned 3 hours worth of Culinary skills! And the wine. Don't forget the wine.

Thoughts?

Ciao Bella!

Matteo "Bleu" Yazge