After our picnic by the Eiffel Tower, we geared up for a post-lunch workout. And by that I mean a session on France’s most scenic stairmaster. The line to walk is way shorter than the line to go up by lift, plus, the stairs weren’t all that bad! We learned interesting facts at each level, a new addition to the climb, which Laura and I appreciated since I accidentally grabbed the informational brochure in Greek/Italian.
Seriously, I couldn’t have picked a worse one to try and decipher. I told Laura it was practice for the next leg of her journey…nothing like renting a car to drive through a country with characters as letters. Glad I’ll be far far away from that.
So up we climbed!
After reaching the first level, we stopped to take photos and do a few laps. There’s a cafe there now, which I definitely don’t remember from the last time I went up. Pretty cute. The prices weren’t as insane as you may have expected. They reserve those for the restaurant at the top, 58 Tour Eiffel. The main courses on that menu start at the ever reasonable price of 73 Euro. I’m pretty sure it’s where Tom Cruise proposed to Katie Holmes. So clearly you have to be on the richer side to eat there. Anyway.
Several selfies later, we finally began the next climb.
The trek to the second level offered the same educational exercise. Did you know other countries have imitated the Tower in numerous ways? Oui! Oui!
More photos from an even higher vantage point. This level had all the photos describing what you were looking at, so Laura and I took our time figuring out the lay of the land. What we learned was that pretty much every single monument was constructed for the World Fair.
Even the most ridiculously obvious facts came in handy later as we recited them to our friends. I’m not sure if it made us sound smart or pretentious.
And then we were off to buy billetes to the tippy top. It took a few minutes (ok, more) for us to figure out where and how to get these tickets. The level was packed with people and we did a full lap before discovering we were directly next to it at the start of the search (typical). Once we got in line, it was a fairly short wait. It helped that four different Asian tour groups had to leave the line after getting to the front and realizing you were already supposed to have purchased your lift tickets. I will refrain from saying something rude here because I could easily see Laura and I doing the same thing. Maybe if there were more signs…not in French…haha. Kidding. Of course any reasonably intelligent person could figure it out. We are just on the cusp of that group of people.
At the top we did another lap, trying to see Roland Garros and the further edges of Paris. And Laura risked her camera’s life to do this…
[Do not try this at home]
Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore…
And then we headed back down. Down down down. Oddly, the descent seemed longer, even though it wasn’t nearly as arduous as the climb up.
Back on land, we headed to the Arc de Triomphe. It was as if we were trying to tackle Paris in a single day! Really we were just doing research for our next few days (more on the 2 day passes we bought later).
We only spent a second there because by then it was 5:15 and we had to be back to meet the rest of our group at 6 at the hotel. As a former New Yorker, I should have known better, but I grossly underestimated the subway situation during rush hour. I’d liken our position to sardines. Smelly and smooshed.
We strained our ears to make out the announced names of the stops, but what I discovered about French is the following. Words sound a LOT different than they look written out. Add in the accent…aaaand the announcements were basically pointless.
As soon as we saw St. Michel we got off and walked the rest of the way. It was 6:45 by the time we arrived, gasping for air, hoping they were still waiting for us. Punctuality fail.
Now a group of five, we went to get our two-day museum passes so we’d be ready to rock the next day. We picked them up at the Louvre, which was the only place open at the time (but I think most museums sell them during normal daytime hours). They cost 35 Euro and were good for almost every touristy thing you’d want to do in central Paris (and even a few things on the outskirts of town).
Next thing on the agenda was dinner. We walked back to the Latin Quarter for some strolling.
As a group, it’s much harder to pick places that accommodate everyone’s dietary needs. It’s just simple math. The more opinions you add in to the mix, the more difficult it becomes to please everyone’s palate. Even people who don’t have actual restrictions (meat, dairy, gluten, whatever) still have cravings that they want to honor (not to mention foods they definitely don’t feel in the mood to eat either). And thus began the process…
To-go vs. dine in options
Outside vs. inside eating
French vs. non-French
And so it continued…
For the record, three of the five of us were unable to eat dairy (although Ethel seemed to ignore this for most of the trip, so I’m not really sure about how strong of an intolerance hers is). Alene and Ashley were the easiest to appease, as they were willing to eat whatever. By contrast, I was the most limited.
In the end, we kinda settled on the idea of a gyro type of place. The first one we went to didn’t have falafel, so we moved onto the next which did.
We got a table in the back and ordered. I (attempted to) order a falafel gyro without tzatziki sauce and extra salsa. The rest of the girls got meat gyros (without tzatziki for the other lactose intolerant folk).
When my plate arrived, I was surprised because there were fries in it. Not the end of the world. I picked almost all of them out and then dug in (fried foods are rarely a good idea for my GI tract, especially in a foreign setting). Holy hell the salsa was hot! My mouth was on fire. In order to preserve my taste buds, I scraped off as much of the salsa as I could and forged ahead. A few bites in I tasted the falafel and immediately noted the presence of cheese. In the ball. Weird? I went back and forth in my head trying to decide if I should simply ignore this and eat the gyro anyway or not. I decided to simply remove the falafel and continue eating the gyro – now with just lettuce and tomato. My plate looked ridiculous. With the fries, salsa, and falafel on the side, there was more removed from the gyro than in it! I had to say something. As much as it pained me to take issue with a French cook (is there anything worse in life?), I deserved to eat something that I wanted. And this was not it.
This was where the night started to unravel.
[For entertainment purposes, the rest of this post has been both exaggerated and edited. If you are going to leave a comment telling me I’m the reason the French hate Americans, don’t waste your breath. I agree and I am equally as embarrassed by the entire affair. So please don’t get all up in ma biz over it. M’kay? We all have times in our life that we aren’t proud of. I’m merely sharing this story because it’s a part of my travel adventure and I think other vegans can relate. And to those who will attempt to eat in not-so-veg-friendly locales – maybe you will be able to learn from my experience. Thanks.]
My goal in taking my plate up to the counter was NOT to start WWIII with the French. However, my approach was greatly stunted by my inability to speak the language.
“Fromage?” I said, pointing to the falafel.
“No.” the man responded.
Hm. Interesting. [FYI, one worded questions don’t exactly say I’m-cool-with-your-style-of-cooking-but-just-don’t-want-to-spend-the-night-on-the-toilet]
I thought how to proceed tactfully (then pushed it aside and repeated again) “Fromage?”
This time he (rightfully so) looked at me like I was a lunatic and maintained his stance that there wasn’t cheese in the falafel. Certain he was wrong, I ignored his response and asked if they made a different falafel without cheese. Or at least, that’s what I wanted to ask. I’m sure my sentence actually translated to “blah blah blah cheese, blah blah blah.” However, my tone most clearly translated “hey ass hole, why are you trying to murder me with dairy.”
At this point, homeboy was over my cheese questions and simply decided to walk away. As I stood at the counter with my destroyed meal and look of confused devastation, I began to get a bit upset.
I was SO determined to not turn into the asshole American (but damn was it hard). At that point a girl ordering (who seemed to be a regular customer based on her knowledge of the menu) was kind enough to inform me that there was cheese in the falafel. And she spoke French. Lightbulb! I shall use her to assist me, I thought.
Five minutes later, she was gone, and I had made zero progress in my effort to get a vegan gyro.
I retreated to the table and decided to make the bread basket (and beer) my dinner.
The girls weren’t having that though. Ethel encouraged me to stand up for myself, and damn it, I wanted a friggin’ meal! I asked the server for a menu to reorder something different.
Translation book in hand, I approached out server and said in my best French accent “I would like a salad.” Please note, it took me a solid ten minutes to put this sentence together, 8 minutes of which were spent trying to find the word for salad in the translation book (which is simply “salade” in case you were wondering).
He told me he was the busboy and I should go to the counter. [Note: he said none of that, but I guessed that was what he meant because he actually ignored me altogether]
Friggin’ great. Those dudes HATED me. I stood there unacknowledged for ten more minutes, as they all spoke in French around me (most definitely about me), before I finally butted into their conversation to repeat my most amazing salad sentence (can you tell how proud I am of my mastery of the French language). I think I added in hand gestures too, because at this point I was already the American idiot, why not just complete the stereotype?
Later on, I got my salad.
The rest of the girls were finished with their meals at this point (obviously, since it had been almost an hour just to order mine), but I still couldn’t start mine because I had no utensils.
Get the book out! How do you say fork!?
Ethel bursts into laughter and shouts FOR-SHIT across the restaurant. I’m actually pretty surprised we hadn’t been kicked out at this point. We didn’t believe her, and passed the book around the table as, one by one, we all repeated the word for fork, fourchette. Can you even imagine? I would bet my last Euro that nobody more obnoxious ever set foot in that restaurant.
Flagging down the busboy was another group activity, which also took far longer than it should have. Ethel asked for a fork, but when his response was only a puzzled look, I turned to the most primitive (although highly effective) method of miming. If you thought the worst had come and gone, now you know the truth. Acting out the process of putting food in your mouth with imaginary utensils is truly rock bottom.
We were repaid for this ludicrous behavior. Not only did the busboy continue to ignore us, but he then brought a fork to the table next to ours. They received the utensils with confused expressions since they were already eating (with silverware).
Ethel took maters into her own hands and went to the counter and got the damn fourchette herself.
I’m not even going to bother explaining how traumatic this restaurant experience was. I was both mortified and frustrated. I hate being that girl. I was trying my best to not be that girl. And yet, I was most certainly that girl. You win some, you lose some.
On the way home, we finished planning out the next day (which was interrupted at the restaurant due to all the hype around the fromage falafel and for-shit). We had an exciting day trip to Versailles on the agenda and we all agree that after the night we just had, there was no place to go but up. [Foreshadowing]
When you are brought something different from what you ordered, what do you do? Whether you’ve sent a dish back or eaten it incorrectly prepared, have you ever regretted your decision or reaction?
I know Gena recently touched on a similar topic, so I’m interested to hear any horror stories and how people handled them.
I’m so sorry your experience was that bad!
I’m sure you figured THIS out, but restaurants are different in France. Not only do chefs (who see their food as art) hate to make changes, but waiters are a very respected position and don’t like to be ‘corrected.’
It does make sense (imagine if you said to an artist, ‘I’d love to buy this painting, but I don’t like the color red, so paint it again without the red.’ ) but obviously it’s tough on people with health issues who are trying to eat while travelling.
I always hear about Americans having similar issues, but for me (last time I was there I didn’t eat meat but would eat dairy and eggs) I couldn’t have been more impressed. We ate at a different authentic restaurant for every meal, and I could always find something vegetarian, and when we couldn’t, my French was good enough to sort it out without being a nuisance.
Again, so sorry you had such a bad experience! Language and culture barriers are hard to figure out!
I’m going to France in 10 days so reading this post really excites me. I can’t wait!
That risk-your-life photo FREAKS me out! What a brave woman Laura is!!!
I am glad you wrote about your experience because I am travelling with a vegan and some one who is lactose intolerenta and was worried. I am still semi-worried about how all of this is going to go down.
I have weird, weird stomach/food issues and am always “that girl.” It sucks when menus don’t list EVERYTHING in the dish. ughhh.
Surprisingly, I’m pretty brave when it comes to sending back dishes not prepared to my liking. Most often I ask for the dressing on the side and it arrives drenched in the stuff.
However, one time Seth and I went to The Mellow Mushroom and he ordered “Hawaiian Pizza.” Apparently in a very loud restaurant that sounds a lot like “White Pizza.” We didn’t send it back, but later kinda wished we had.
hmmm, it really depends. for instance – i went to a restaurant and ordered a salad w/ no dressing – came with dressing. in that case, it’s not like i could scrape off the dressing so i sent it back.
then i ordered egg whites & smoked salmon but they gave me grilled salmon. in that case i kept it because i like grilled salmon (even though i really, really wanted the smoked salmon).
so, if i can’t handle it, i’ll send it back. but in your case i honestly don’t know what i would’ve done b/c of the language barrier! that sucks! especially since your replacement salad looked a bit wimpy!
sounds awful. i have had many many an experience like that (even in the states while trying to explain veganism to clueless waiters) and it always makes the meal less enjoyable, to the point that even if i finally get what i want, i wonder how worth it it was. i would have stopped pursuing the chef at the bread and beer point of the story if it had been me. not because i don’t think you should get a meal that you want, but because what molly said about food being art and waiters hating to be right is very true in France. and i just don’t see the point in trying to suck blood from a stone. it would have ruined the experience for me.
don’t get me wrong, i don’t think that you asked too much, but for me, i have realized that i am much much happier when i can control my meals. and when i studied abroad i tried to embrace eating the way the locals do. meaning, i take advantage of going to local markets and shops and compiling a meal of my own from basic ingredients rather than depending on a chef/cook to do that for me. that’s not always the easiest thing to do when you’re trekking around, but having a full wholesome salad or sandwich is pretty easy to make with ingredients at the markets. and any leftovers, if selected carefully (carrots vs. fruit that spoils easily), are pretty easy to store in a hotel room (even without a fridge) for a few days. when sightseeing, a slightly bigger purse can store those meals and any extra weight is usually something that I’m more willing to deal with. even as a backup meal, just in case. but that’s me. and its also something i do here in the US when i’m going into a situation where i know i might have issues. granted, maybe i’m just getting to old to deal with the drama…and it sounds like that meal in particular was filled with drama!
if i get upset about not being able to share in the cuisine of the land (which i often do) i then really try to embrace the experience of shopping like a local. which is also the cuisine of the land. which im sure you did, to an extent, while you were there.
all in all, you’re totally right, you win some, you lose some.
regardless, it sounds like your experience sucked at this particular place, but it does make the rest of your trip (and the good meals) sound SOOO much more enjoyable and hopefully more appreciated! thanks for sharing!
wow what a post….sorry it was such an epic chore to get the food that you wanted and could eat. BTDT which is why when I travel, I love to cook for myself (not possible I realize in many situations) but that’s probably why I havent taken any grandiose Euro vacay’s lately, haha!
but when I do order something and it’s not what I want..no shame for me in sending it back. The issue becomes everyone else is eating, then i am not, they are done, i am just starting if the dish comes out correct on attempt #2..so altho i dont feel bad about sending it back, i feel bad about holding everyone else up…no easy answers!
i just died laughing at this post. that story will never seize to get old…
I have never been to France but studied French culture in school (since Canada is bilingual). There certainly is an aspect of the culture where “the chef is right” and I am assuming the idea of food allergies/preferences haven’t quite broken through this barrier yet in some places.
Similarly, in Korea (which I have travelled to)…the idea of being vegan isn’t understood in most areas, it doesn’t really translate.
Hopefully your experience can help you being more empathetic to travellers in North America that are struggling with our language and getting their needs across.
“The most scenic stairmaster” haha I love it! What I do NOT love is getting things at restaurants that I didn’t ask for. Grrrr. My boyfriend get so embarrassed because I’m so quick to call the waiter over and be like ummm I wanted something else. But hey, we are paying for our food and should enjoy it! I’ve never dealt with a language barrier though. Glad you finally got your salad 🙂
This was HILARIOUS to read… I would have done the same in any country other than France. Mainly because I speak semi-fluent French, but if it was Spain, I most certainly would be in trouble! It sounds like you did your best and the waitstaff was not accommodating what so ever!! That is frustrating… Did you finally get some decent French cuisine in you?
I’ve had things happen in London and Paris. In London a server filled everyone’s water glass and then look at our empty glasses, locked eyes with me, and then turned around. We were the only Americans in the restaurant (small shop) so it was quite obvious.
Second story happened in Paris. This rude French lady (prob not older than me in her 20s) kept kicked me when she crossed her legs. She never apologized, she never moved, nothing. I was getting up from the seat and she kept her leg in the same spot and wouldn’t move it so I tripped knocking over a glass which shattered on the floor. She smirked then looked away. It was so embarrassing and rude.
I’m honestly not surprised you had this experience, haha. French waiters don’t have to worry about being tipped like Americans and the concept of being vegan is pretty much alien to them. Plus, they kind of look for anyone to fit the bill of the American stereotype, so if you’d been another European person who couldn’t speak French your experience likely would have been really different. I’d have been pissed as hell, too. I’ll never forget going to a French restaurant as a teenager with my parents and a friend, and while my mom and I spoke for the table and ordered in French (and we only have very slight accents), he must have heard us speaking in English amongst ourselves because when I ordered a salad as my entree he made some snide comment about Americans always being on diets. Um, thanks dude. Sorry you had that experience- at least it’s a really funny story, right?
The pics from the Eiffel Tower are gorgeous. Last year I took a class on Paris and part of our final exam was to identify different points of the city from the top of certain landmarks, so I’m nerding out right now…
haha what a hilarious story! and SO frustrating! I’m sure I would have done the same thing as you!! I hate being THAT girl, too, but sometimes it’s hard to avoid. I accidentally ordered a quinoa risotto in a Peruvian restaurant the other week and asked for it without butter, totally forgetting that risottos are usually cooked with cheese! Even though it was my fault for not being clear, I did end up sending the cheesy dish back because there was no way to eat around it. I felt bad, but the waiter was really nice about it. I guess I’ve learned now to be more thorough in my order ha! I can’t imagine dealing with that in another language; it’s MUCH easier to smooth things over when you can communicate.
It sounds like you had a blast despite the food hurdles!
That must have been so frustrating! 🙁
I send stuff back with no shame. The people I am dining with usually think that is rude of me but if I am paying for something I feel like I should get what I asked for! I am always very friendly about it though!
I am so sorry that you had all that trouble but I just about fell over laughing at the FOR-SHIT!
I understand your frustrations, but sometimes it helps to just go with the flow. Eating cheese one day is not the end of the world!
Oh my word…I’m laughing so hard. I’m really sorry that you had such an awful experience – I probably would have broken down into tears, especially if my blood sugar was low enough after not being able to order food for an hour. But, it makes for a really good story…without a doubt, I’ll remember the word for fork if I’m ever in France with a salad in front of me.
patty-
eating cheese for someone whos body can’t digest it can quite literally feel like the end of the world!
what a shame to have that experience. i would have done what you did, even if it meant i ended up being “that girl.” you’re a paying customer and you should be able to eat what you order!! i had heard horror stories about france and their cuisine (i too do not consume animal products) so i stuck to a french baguette and nutella diet while i was there. yes, not the healthiest but it sure was tasty and i got to avoid any hassle i could have gotten myself into. i must say, you seemed to handle it well, i would have been in tears as katie said and if my blood sugar was low, i proably would’ve gotten a bit cranky…
on a brighter note, the eiffel tower treak looked like loads of fun!! 🙂
c’est la vie
I’m loving reading about your travel adventures!! I’m going to Italy in January, perhaps by then I’ll have gotten my butt in gear and started a blog! I’m so worried about being “that girl” though.
thank you lou
I wasn’t even a vegetarian the last time I went to France, so I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to eat there as a dairy-free person. If I’m brought something slightly different from what I order at a restaurant, I’ll generally eat it as long as it doesn’t contain anything I restrict in my diet. If it clearly contains meat or any dairy I asked held, then I’ll say something.
=) much appreciated. I cannot wait for the Versailles post.
How I look at sending food back… You are paying for something specific, so sending it back, specifically for dietary reason or otherwise is A OK. Remember you are the customer and unless it is some totally unreasonalbe request, your food should be to your liking. AND that is that..
Love the pics. You are so lucky to be able to travel and explore, and with awesome family, what could be better? I’m jealous.
Yikes! Sorry for the traumatic travel meals. I’ve had some of my own, though these sound pretty epically bad. I guess it simply reminds us that travel is about more than food, eh?
Thanks for the kind bday wishes!
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precisely. 🙂
i loved france! however, i had a different problem! i ordered tartare de boeuf which is raw beef with a raw egg in it, mustard and spices which is a common lunch dish in france. it’s what i really wanted but the waiter was like oh, are you sure you don’t want a hamburger instead since this is raw. i do know some french and this whole convo was in his language and i had to emphatically respond that yes, indeed i was aware it was ‘not cooked’ and it’s what i wanted! it ended up being one of my favorite meals in paris and he was so cute cautiously awaiting my reaction to it. he seemed thrilled that i loved it and admitted to me when leaving that it was one of his favorites as well. cultural stereotypes aside, we all have a lot to learn from each other! that story and photos can be food here: http://thedelicateplace.wordpress.com/2010/04/08/day-4-confrontation-the-louvre/
True true! Thanks for sharing 🙂
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Organic eating can also be vital for children’s well-being, as well as adults.
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