Day 48: An architect treats me to lunch...
- Marlena Skrabak
- Jul 28, 2019
- 6 min read
Updated: Aug 21, 2019
I woke up nervous and I stayed nervous until about 3pm. Today was the day I was going to have my interview with Edouard François, a successful 60-year-old architect who created the "vegetal building." My stomach was churning as I spent the morning doing some last minute research, transcribing the set of questions I had on a piece of paper in case I would not have access to my computer during the interview. In the end, it was smart I wrote it down for memory purposes, but otherwise, I did not refer to it once.
The meeting was at 12h30. In calculating the time it would take me to get there 10 minutes early, I left at 11h45, feeling significantly sick enough to know that my nerves were acting their usual selves. If I didn't want to puke a little, that is when I should start to worry.
Putting on a nice dress, and a little mascara something I haven't worn in weeks, I was ready to trudge through the sweltering heat to the agency in the 11e. Oh, just a little something to spice up this already anxious day, it was supposed to be 106 degrees Fahrenheit, the hottest it has been in paris since 1947 which was only around 104 to begin with. We are breaking records, we are making strides, we are sweating even more than normal. Everything's great...
Getting to the vaguely nondescript office, I buzzed in and was greeted by a rather cold secretary who told me to wait in the modern white hallway decorated by sparse historical paintings of white men. I later found out that the presence of these historical pieces is to remind and pull from history as a way to inspire current architecture. At least, that is how Edouard described it.
I first met with Mathieu who I had been in contact with through email who gave me a quick run down of the space. Impression: intense eye contact after inconsequential sentences, looking for validation from me through an expected amazed response.
Moving on to Edouard...
I met him in their grand mezzanine that felt slightly chaotic with the loosest handshake I believe I have ever had the experience of being a part of. He asked if I spoke "enough" French in a somewhat incredulous tone to which Mathieu responded with "quite well" (in French of course). I appreciate the subtle compliment; I truly was trying my hardest.
Before whisking me off to lunch, he showed me some massive rocks. He only buys the biggest of each...I said one was pretty. He told me that they are not beautiful but useful. One was meant to inspire innovation. I nodded in agreement, as if I knew exactly why that was the case. The next large rock I saw I made sure not to comment on its beauty but instead asked the purpose of the inanimate large shiny object. I'm learning already...
Then he took off down the street as I tried to keep up with the legs clad in white skinny jeans, a piece of clothing that I myself have never owned.
Arriving at this quaint little restaurant, we sat down at a table outside where we were greeted by a server who at least knew his face. This, I could tell, was a regular spot of his.
He started speaking the moment we left the office. For this reason, when the server came around to take our order, I had not even had time to look at the menu yet. This place was called Nana, chic, trendy, with the menu changing periodically depending on weather, season, produce...it was like Mokonuts. I would even have to claim that the taste rivals that restaurant too. Because I had not had time to read through the menu (I would have needed a good minute or two to understand all the fancy french gastronomic language), I asked for the same salad as Edouard (meaning I had no idea what I was going to get) and one of the two "plats." I ended up choosing steak tartare, not because that was necessarily what I looking for but because I had no idea what the first word meant for the other dish and felt it was safer to at least have an idea of what I could be eating...Suffice it to say, I became even more nervous. This would be the first steak tartare to ever enter my mouth. Out of all the places, why not in France during an important interview with an architect?!
All I can say is that the interview went for two and a half hours, I did not have the chance to record any of it, the food was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my entire life, he held true to all of Loren's little personality details, and to wrap the nature of the entire lunch into one phrase of his, it would be as follows: the architect stereotype is "socialist, atheist, and heterosexual" and he demonstrated that he broke boundaries by being an "aristocratic, catholic, homosexual." Words may have escaped me in the moment, but the amount of material I have to use now is incredible. He spoke to me fluently, as if I was a veteran Frenchie discussing the nature and necessity of green architecture. To a degree, it was a prideful moment that I had the ability to carry this on for two hours. It is not like it was a conversation. It was me asking and him elaborating. Not once did I look down to my yellow notepad with questions. I found them for myself, using material such as the island of Kiribati, readings of Bruno Latour from class, exhibitions I saw in museums like the V&A in London, and more. In those hours, I felt more adult than I ever have before.
A quick word on the steak tartare: it was deliciously seasoned with beets and some other little spice details that woke up all my senses. Paired with the grain based salad from earlier and the rather smooth glass of white wine, I really couldn't complain.
To finish off the meal and cool us down from the heat, we enjoyed a sorbet over a dacquoise with sesame, fresh apricot, and caramel peanut crunches. All the textures were checked off.
Eventually saying goodbye, he called me his little ambassador to Harvard as we went our separate ways. Networking is the key to life...
In being so close to Blé Sucré, I could not pass up the wonderful opportunity to go get some pastries, not knowing if it would be the last time I would get to have a taste of the buttery goodness of the boulangerie. A pain au chocolat and croissant in my bag later, I scooted over to Reid Hall on the metro, dripping with sweat and dying just a tad from the lost water my body was suffering from. Calling my smiling parents from the less sweltering inside of the building, I snacked (or slightly dismantled) my croissant, telling them all about my interview experience. Did I stuff myself after a very filling lunch? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely not...
Needing to get back to the apartment, I mustered up the courage to make the walk through the heat once again. My body was glistening with sweat. Bye bye toxins, hello dehydration.
Getting back, I packed my overnight bag as I was heading to see a friend this evening that I met in 6th grade when I danced in Nice at this place called Chrysalide. Planning on spending Thursday and Friday evening, I got everything together quickly. Before heading to see my friend, I had dinner plans with Anna and our Harvard friend previously mentioned. His apartment had a kitchen and we were craving a Mexican-type meal. One plus one here meant guacamole!
I arrived before Anna as she had a meeting with one of our professors about the summer project. So we decided to do the food shopping...here is the list: avocados, chickpeas, corn, tomatoes, red onion, red cabbage, cantaloupe, feta, corn and flour tortillas, seasoning package, and lime.
Using some other materials such as cumin, garlic, white onion, and pomelo from the apartment, we made a KILLER meal. This is NO joke. We destroyed the cooking industry with our genius take on Mexican food in France.
Here is the meal: warmed up tortillas, chickpea/tomato/corn sautéed filling with fresh white onion and garlic, limey guac with white onions, pico de gallo (tomatoes, olive oil, fresh garlic, and red onion), crumbled feta, red cabbage citrus mix/slaw with pomelo, and a cantaloupe salsa with lime, red onion, olive oil, and seasonings. We killed it, I know. Jamming, eating, laughing, sweating, it was quite the good time.
I had to leave a little earlier to be able to get to my friend's in time, all the way out to Boulogne, the west edge of Paris. Meeting her and her uncle outside the metro stop, we walked to their apartment not far away. A big hug, a nice chat, some cherries, and multiple glasses of water later, we finally made it to bed so we could get up early the next morning for DISNEYLAND. Oh yes, it was going to be a busy day.
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