The Moose: A Place Where Dreams Come True

As mentioned previously - The Moose, as it has come to be known, is located near the metro stop of Odeon and specifically on Rue Quatre Vents. I guess, to ease our immersion into the French culture, Diane took us here on one of our first nights because it is indeed a Canadian bar. I keep stressing 'Canadian bar' as if I'm from the land of the loonies. I'm sorry, I found that term in Wikipedia.. I understand it's a nickname/term for the Canadian dollar? Correct me if I'm wrong.

Anyway, funnily enough, many of the bartenders at the Moose during my stint in Paris were from New Zealand. A group of us quickly befriended two in particular, Darrin & Mark. After all, a bartender is one of the most important friends that one can have. I hold many close to my heart. Now, maybe I'm referencing this local pub as an economically sound establishment because of the preferential treatment we occasionally received? Or maybe it's because there are typically weekly "happy hour" type deals, as well as meal deals. Let's just say that I think I spent more time at the Moose than any other single place in my 5 months in Paris.

If you're looking for authentic French food, then this isn't your joint. BUT, if you're in need of a little slice of home pie, then here are a few items off the Moose menu that I'd recommend:

• Mooseburger
• Classic Moose Poutine
• Chicken Stir Fry Pita

The Moosehead beer should go without saying..

And of course for dessert:













Now, the last time I was in Paris was in 2001, so the prices and menu might have changed a bit; and of course, I don't recommend dining out for every meal.. BUT either way, you'll get the most for your money here.

If you do get a chance to swing by the Moose, please stop by and let me know if everything's still as delicious as it was 7 years ago.

The French Empire Strikes Back

Um, so I'm not sure why the Star Wars references have now made appearances in two posts, but apparently I'm an avid closet-fan. Anyway, do not fear - my intention is not to detail every day of my 5 months in Paris, but to give you a bit of a background as to how things began versus how they progressed.

P.S. Is it weird that as I was looking for my photo albums to jog my memory, I found a VHS tape titled "Bellydance: Fitness for Beginners"? Unless I subconsciously blacked out that moment of my life, then I have zero clue as to where this might have come from.. lucky for me, it was still in the plastic wrapping.

After being housed for 2 weeks, courtesy of Boston College, at the Maison de Canadiens, we were let off the leash and forced to find our own apartments. To fast forward a bit: yaddi, yaddi, yadda - I found some friends.. bla, bla, bla - I was not left in a French gutter cold and alone. Although we were definitely duped by our anything but smooth French landlord, we did find a place to sleep for the next 5 months.

Now for the good stuff..

Challenge #1: The metro. Initially, looking at the metro map for me was like trying to figure out a rubix cube - impossible.

Solution #1: Have some wine, loosen up, speak some French, find your way.

For a while, the only places we knew how to get to were on Line 4, which led to St. Michel, Notre Dame & the Odeon area [it helped that our apartment was also on Line 4, in Alesia]. It was the first area that our group checked out all together, and probably not surprisingly, houses the places where many of us felt most at home. The reason for this.. one bar in particular.. The Moosehead, a Canadian bar in Paris.

Paris: Where the Travel Bug Initially Struck

By the time I was a sophomore in college, I'd realized that I hadn't exactly challenged myself to do much outside of my comfort zone. Having lived in Massachusetts all my life and choosing to go to college a distant 30 minutes away in Boston, I decided that I needed to test the European waters. Because I'd taken French all my life, it seemed only right that I apply to programs in Paris to study abroad.
Well, the day I got into the University of Paris III was the day that I nearly lost control of my bowels. And believe me, I have an idea as to how uncomfortable & inconvenient that actually would be after watching a friend cradle a rope between his cheeks during a summer tubing trip in Maine a few years ago. Anyway, I digress..

After I swallowed the reality of leaving everything I'd known for a period of 5 months, I began to sob upon boarding the plane and immediately turned to an unquantifiable number of red wine medicine bottles to curb my anxiety. Luckily, I was seated next to another college student, so we proceeded to imbibe quite heavily throughout the duration of our flight to Zurich.. where I'd have to drunkenly figure out how to find my way to my transfer flight to Paris. I somehow managed, but not without a battle - thank goodness there were many English speaking folks around to comprehend my slurred attempt at French.. or mumbles.

A few hours later, we touched ground in Paris.. I had finally sobered up which was sort of positive until I remembered how anxious I was and realized that I had no idea what I was supposed to do once I got there. Our program wasn't the most organized, so I didn't travel with any other students in my program. I managed to dial out to the US on the nearest payphone and got a hold of my mother. To this day, I could swear that she thought I was being tortured as there were absolutely no actual words being generated by my mouth, but rather the sweet sounds of Chewbacca.. but I'm still too proud to ask her. I finally met up with our program coordinator, Diane, and off we went to the Maison de Canadiens..

I'm out of breath from writing so much.. Parts II thru More to come shortly. But first, a baguette & brie for lunch.. that are obviously to be washed down by a nice glass [or bottle] of Shiraz.