Christmas at home with my Frenchie

My little Cata Crew of a family (ie Robin & moi), have celebrated Christmas for the last 5 years in France. This usually shocks people and I get a pity round of “say, it ain’t so!” from everyone (including the strangely peppy customs officer). But fear not my friends, I tend to make it home every 6 months or so and a trickle of American guests shimmy across the Atlantic to bombard us with American hugs pretty regularly throughout the year.

We always end up spending Christmas in France for two reasons. The first being that flight tickets are at least 2x more expensive at Christmas than any other time during the year. It’s hard to rationalize a holiday trip in December, when I could return three times during the year for the same price as one “ho ho ho” flight at Christmas. The second reason is that I hard-core adore Robin’s family. The mythical creature that is a monster-in-law just doesn’t exist in my current reality. I genuinely like spending time with his family, which makes the pain of missing a holiday at home, easier to swallow. Especially knowing it sets me up for three ah-mazing trips full of deep-dish pizzas, milkshakes and bagels.

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New Year, Same Me

Happy New Year Crew! I hope you had a raging time ringing in 2019! If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know I spent the holidays visiting family in the US until the 31st. Which means in the jetlag vs Kate battle, jetlag was coming out on top on New Year’s Eve. So, Robin and I decided to forgo a party for an “intimate” celebration in Paris. Intimate is the chosen word I like to use to feel less guilty about staying in together doing a whole lotta nothin’. We drank 5-dollar wine out Tervis cups. We shared a kebab from our favorite Algerian bakery around the corner. I got sucked into the black hole that is “recommended videos” on YouTube for 2 hours, while Robin started playing Assassins Creed: Odyssey. Safe to say the 100 hours of game time needed to finish Odyssey means that I won’t have a husband for the next 6 weeks. :0 But no matter which way you celebrated the New Year, trading saliva with random clubbers, dining with friends, or sleeping through the unwanted noise, a new year has announced itself whether or not you want it.

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Pizzeria Popolare | 75002 |Paris Pizza Review

Like every Pizza lover you meet in Paris, I’m a huge fan of the Big Mamma Group. Victor and Tigrane, 2 French men, opened their first Italian tratorria, East Mamma, in 2015. 3 years later, they have opened 6 other restaurants and are slated to open their newest one this month. Apparently more than 1,000 people can stuff themselves silly with Italian at the same time. Can. Not. Wait.

I checked out their third address Pizza Popolare with a fabulous foodie friend this weekend and I was far from disappointed.

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Those Three French Habits I’ve Picked Up

I’ve been living in France for nine years now (cray cray), and most people I meet for the first time find it hard to believe. This could very well be due to some strong American habits still lingering within me and managing to pop out at the most inconvenient moments. I’ll save these rather special stories for a different article. What I really wanted to write about are the 3 French habits that I’ve picked up during this wild ride.

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