Croque Madame and Eiffel Power

Only the French (and Tony Parker) would place this backdrop for a basketball court.

Inspired by the stories of French apostasy at the Jewish Museum of Art and History, I decided that I would break all the Shabbas laws that I possibly could by doing all the things I normally do every other day of the week like ride trains, listen to music, and order things that normally come with ham in them (and then ask for them to be removed). I don't know why I just wrote that.

Saturday morning I had breakfast at La Primerose which is a cute lil cafe off in the 14th arrondissement and within walking distance to the scenic Esplanade Des Invalides, the actual translation of which turned out to be much different than expected, so imagine my surprise when I saw no drool lacing the sidewalks. I'm....really sorry.

A brief comment about the word "cute" which I have found myself using excessively over the course of the postings about France: first of all, hyperaware of my Texas rearing, I am used to this specific choice of diction having problematic implications for a male speaker.

So to straddle the fence appropriately, I would like to say that when I say something is "cute", I only say it in the context of France, which is inherently meant both diminutively and condescendingly at once like "Oh, France is trying to be it's own little country that's not like America" so I am not giving it excessive credit (credit that America would deserve anyway for liberating it) and I am certainly not riding that unavoidable "slippery slope" that Rick Santorum would link from employing the use of adjectives like "cute" to having sexual intercourse with a man. Not that there is anything wrong with that, right Rick? Woo.

Coffee may cure jetlag or hangovers, but not both.

So I digress. At a QUAINT little place, I enjoy the boulevard and have my cafe au lait and order Croque Madame, which is basically a fancy toasted ham and cheese sandwich with a fried egg on top. I've been to more than enough places that serve this obnoxiously French dish, but I never actually ordered one and upon arriving in Paris, I decided that I would live French and have one. To order it sans jambon, instantly got me in trouble with the waiter who took this to mean that French ham was inferior when in reality, it's just that people who eat ham are the ones who are inferior. Just kidding Gentiles!

The woman next to me also ordered a Croque Madame and as we both ate them (she ordered hers second and got it first), I had this nodding moment of recognition with her, that I was just as much an asshole as she was for eating this ridiculous dish. It tasted wonderful.

I shuffled my way north and ended up running smack into the Champs De Mars, which had no Martians, but instead had the Eiffel Tower at the western edge of it. I am ashamed of myself because I've been there before and I have the pictures to prove it, but the problem is that I just keep getting better looking with age and I hate that my default Eiffel Tower picture might not reflect that. So I stopped on the Champs De Mars and took a few pictures...of myself.

I set myself up for the nonchalant picture, on the grass of the Champs De Mars, but my first picture came out looking really uncomfortable and only had 3/4 of the tower.

This second picture was ruined by four Spanish tourists, who upon seeing me taking a picture of myself, offered to barter services, a picture of them for a picture of me.

Given such a reasonable offer from Spanish people, I scoffed and walked away, opting for the "other than the fact that I am taking this picture myself, it would appear that I am absolutely too cool to even remotely care that I am front of the Eiffel Tower" pic.

On my way out, I wielded my Eiffel Power, offering to only take pictures of the ugly couples who were stranded without a photographer on the Champs de Mars.