The Mashed Potatoes Dish That Brought Me Back Home
(Thursday, March 20, 2025)
I’m typing this diary while sitting on a rock at the riverbank, soaking in the sun.
The warmth melts my homesickness a little. Maybe it’s the jet lag, maybe it’s the unreliable WiFi and the freezing night air in my bedroom, but last night, I missed home more than ever—even though yesterday wasn’t a bad day.
In fact, it started on a positive note. For lunch, I decided to go to Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse on my own. As I stepped outside, the sun wrapped around me like a hug, and Somewhere Over the Rainbow played in my headphones. I had downloaded my Warm Fuzzy Feelings playlist—fitting for this little solo date I was taking myself on.
This whole trip, really, is a long date with myself. Not just a solo vacation, but something more romantic. I secretly like to romanticize life, though I rarely admit it—it's too cringy for the stiff American business world I’ve been in. The startup world I was in before is messy and exhausting behind the scenes, and the corporate culture I will be joining has no space for poetry.
Les Halles is a covered food market dedicated to the legendary chef Paul Bocuse, the “pope of gastronomy.” With only 15 minutes before class, I wandered through the market, surrounded by a feast of sights and smells—fresh seafood, golden pastries, endless types of cheese. The restaurants inside serve dishes made with the freshest ingredients, and I wished I had time to sit down and eat.
Instead, I ended up having a pleasant chat with a restaurant server who was on his break. He was very friendly, funny, and effortlessly outgoing. He has worked at the restaurant for 17 years as a server, something unthinkable to many Americans. We spoke in a mix of French and body language—something I’ve always been good at when navigating non-English-speaking countries. I promised him that I would go back to the market, at some point. I will live up to the promise.
Once again, Boulangerie Les Frères Barioz next to the school saved me. A simple baguette sandwich—brie, prosciutto, and a single crisp lettuce leaf, all tucked into a short baguette with the perfect golden, crunchy crust. A quick espresso on the side, and I headed to class like a local.
For dinner, my host’s mother made hachis parmentier for us, a classic French dish: a rich, savory ground beef mixture covered with fluffy, cheesy mashed potatoes, similar to Shepherd’s pie.
Louis’ mom has made it for us before, and to me, she is the best French chef I know. She insists on using only the best ingredients—organic, fresh, full of flavor. Her hachis parmentier has the creamiest, most buttery mashed potatoes, and the ground beef is deep and indulgent in taste. Last time she made it, she prepared a small one just for Louis and me, baked in a cute glass dish. When I was working late at my desk in the bedroom, I smelled it browning in the oven, I ran over, asking Louis what on earth could smell that good.
Maybe it was the memory of that dish, bringing me back to Chicago, that made me feel so homesick. Maybe it was tiptoeing back into my cold bedroom after dinner. Or maybe it was today’s class on the futur simple, where I felt behind, struggling more than I wanted to admit.
Either way, my pillow might have caught some warm moisture last night.
I wonder—maybe growing up means that no matter how exciting the world is, a part of you will always belong somewhere else.
First Day of School in Lyon
(Monday, March 17, 2025)
Lyon welcomed me with sunshine today—an official warm greeting.
When I woke up, I noticed a small note slipped under my door. It was from my host’s 18-year-old daughter, Nina, apologizing for making noise last night and for accidentally eating my yogurt. Thoughtful, sweet, and surprisingly old-fashioned. Ever since I got a phone as a teenager, I don’t think I’ve received a handwritten note slipped under a door. I loved it. I wrote back a polite reply and slid it under her door in return.
At 7:15 AM, I walked into the kitchen to find my host, Valérie, already preparing breakfast. Freshly toasted bread with the creamy beurre demi-sel (French salted butter) I’d been craving, and a perfectly cooked sunny-side-up egg. A lovely way to start the morning—except for one thing. She had also turned on French news on TV, ready to engage me in breakfast conversation… in French. Jet-lagged and barely awake, I did my best—chattering away in passionate but broken French, my natural tendency to overshare completely uncurbed.
I was placed in an afternoon French class, which gave me time to sign up for a cultural activity at noon: a guided tour of la Presqu’île, the historical heart of Lyon.
Our guide, Janine, was the epitome of elegant French womanhood in her 80s—bright eyes framed by perfectly applied mascara, blush precisely matching her lipstick, dressed in a plum-colored suede jacket with fur around her neck and heeled boots. Along for the tour were two other new students: Heide, a German woman, and John, an Australian man. Both seemed about my parents’ age, both on vacation from work. Heide had exactly one week off and chose to spend the entire time at this school. John, a teacher, was on a three-month sabbatical—a perk Australians get every ten years of working. He teaches grammar to elementary school teachers, which might explain why he was particularly good at picking up what Janine was saying and translating it for me whenever I got lost.
The Presqu’île stretches from the foot of Croix-Rousse hill in the north to where the Rhône and Saône rivers meet in the south. It’s the quintessential old French neighborhood—ochre-colored buildings, squares with intricate tilework and fountains, statues of historical figures, and a grand plaza dedicated to an important Louis. Scattered throughout are cafés, restaurants, luxury boutiques, government offices, and cultural institutions. The magnolias were already blooming in pink and white, decorating the lovely streets and making us feel tipsy from the view.
By the time I arrived at my first French class, I was already exhausted from the two-hour walking tour. But the class itself? Surprisingly fun.
Our teacher was a true entertainer. She danced, sang, exaggerated every sentence, and pretended to be a chain-smoking alcoholic to make her stories funnier. (Or maybe she wasn’t pretending.) The students were all lively and unafraid to speak, and their French impressed me. I couldn’t help but wonder why I had been placed in this class. Jet-lagged and slightly overwhelmed, I resorted to mixing a lot of English while attempting to tell my classmates about a disastrous but hilarious trip I once took in a group exercise. Fortunately, they were kind—laughing when I laughed, looking concerned at the right moments. Hopefully, that meant they actually understood me.
Two questions dominated our conversations today:
Tu viens d’où ? (Where are you from?)
Pourquoi apprends-tu le français ? (Why are you learning French?)
We also asked each other how long we’d be studying at the school. The answers were often unclear, even in English, because not everyone spoke English. A young Japanese student spoke pas du tout (not at all), while students from Russia and Ecuador had limited English. But somehow, we understood each other better in our very broken French than in any other language.
After class, our teacher suggested we all celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at Paddy’s Corner, an Irish bar not far from the school. It seemed like a good chance to bond, so I joined. We took the train together like a children’s field trip, our heavy backpacks marking us as a group of foreign students. The bar was packed and loud, filled with traditional Irish music and orange and green balloons.
A few beers in, our broken French somehow became more fluent. Everything—every misunderstanding, every badly conjugated verb, every empty nodding and “ouai”ing along (saying yeah to everything)—became funnier. At one point, I laughed so hard I nearly choked. I also got to know two other American girls better; both have very cool stories.
I left the bar early to have dinner with my host family. Two new Italian students had arrived today, young girls who would also be staying in Valérie’s massive apartment.
Dinner was simple but delicious: creamy red-sauce spaghetti with ground beef, the ever-present baguette, and a fresh watercress salad with a flavorful mustard vinaigrette.
Outside, the night was chilly, the stars twinkling over Lyon. Inside, warm light filled the dining room as we gathered around the table like family, sharing stories from our day over good food.
A perfect first day.
Fu Fu Ramen – First Dinner in Lyon
(Sunday, March 16, 2025)
After just a few hours in Lyon, I had already managed to annoy a French lady at the supermarket—an accident, of course, but still an initiation of sorts. Wanting to play it safe for dinner, I went for something familiar: ramen. Warm, comforting, and perfect for both my Asian stomach and the crisp night air.
Fu Fu Ramen was tucked away at the end of a lively alley, almost hidden. I had to double-check my Google maps to be sure I was in the right place, but then, there it was—a cozy little ramen shop. The moment I stepped in, I was met with a synchronized burst of Japanese greetings from the four staff behind the counter. None of them were Asian, but they shouted orders to each other in Japanese with such ease that it made me smile. Strangely, I felt welcomed.
I ordered the classic Chashumen—Bol de bouillon avec des nouilles, pousses de bambou, soja, oeuf, algues, confit de porc et poitrine de porc caramélisée (a bowl of rich broth, noodles, bamboo shoots, soy, egg, seaweed, pork confit, and caramelized pork belly). And, of course, some gyoza on the side.
The first sip of broth was heaven. Deep, savory, soul-warming. Then came the pork belly—meltingly tender, full of flavor. I rarely order pork ramen back home in Chicago, but tonight, I might have consumed more pork in one sitting than I ever have before.
Midway through my meal, I glanced up and did a double take. Sitting next to me was a blond-haired Frenchman who looked exactly like my ex from five years ago, accompanied by his French wife and child. Lyon, it seems, had a sense of humor.
By the end of the meal, I mustered up my best French to chat with the server, who turned out to be incredibly kind. A small but rewarding moment to wrap up my first night in Lyon.
Departure – A Once-in-a-Lifetime Opportunity
(Saturday, March 16, 2025)
"It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
As I sat at the airport, my thoughts drifting to home, I reminded myself of what my boyfriend, Louis, had just told me before dropping me off.
For months, I had planned this five-month adventure with excitement. But as the departure date approached, excitement gave way to nervousness and sadness—I would miss home, and I would miss him. Fortunately, final exams at Booth and a busy week at my part-time job kept me too occupied to fully process those emotions.
Louis, ever thoughtful, had planned a wonderful send-off with his parents. A cozy aperitif featuring a delicious, naturally lactose-free Norwegian cheese. A lovely dinner: yuzu-sake-soaked chicken with zucchini, preserved lemon, and saffron—a dish of his I adore. The next morning was a whirlwind of last-minute packing and navigating O’Hare amid the chaos of St. Patrick’s Day weekend, where the air smelled distinctly of alcohol.
Finally settled at the Wicker Park Seafood & Sushi Bar in Terminal 1—a family favorite—I felt my nerves creeping in. A long journey ahead: a connecting flight, meeting my famille d’accueil (host family), settling into a new city, all within 24 hours. Wanting something comforting, I opted for the safest choice on the menu, without seafood or sushi: a grilled chicken avocado sandwich with kettle-cooked chips. Then, I pulled out The French Ingredient, a gift from Louis’ mother—an American woman’s memoir of living and entrepreneuring in Paris.
"It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," I reminded myself again, turning my focus to the book.
The dedication read: To all the dreamers.
I got lost in the pages. The author’s story—boarding school, moving abroad, starting a business alone—mirrored parts of my own journey. But her inner voice was lighter, more naturally optimistic, uncomplicated. Maybe, one day, I’d write my own story.
The flights were uneventful and exhausting, as expected. I missed home like crazy. But “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
I had finished my MBA coursework early and carved out this five-month semi-vacation before officially starting my post-graduation job at Walmart. (Still keeping my remote part-time work, of course.)
It’s going to be an adventure.
First stop: Lyon, France. Language school.
I have a suitcase, a few books, my yoga mat, my running shoes, and an appetite for exploring the gastronomy capital of France.
And at 31, I’m staying with a host family for the first time.
I smiled to myself.
Un été suédois : histoire, art et le meilleur tartare de ma vie
7 Août 2024
Je suis arrivée à Stockholm hier, et Louis m’a attendue à l’aéroport. Je l’ai vu immédiatement après être sortie du terminal.
Nous avons pris l’Arlanda Express et le métro pour aller à notre hôtel dans le centre-ville de Stockholm. L’hôtel est très beau et artistique. Il est aussi ancien, car il a été ouvert en 1647.
Nous avons dîné dans un restaurant traditionnel, Kvarnen, ouvert depuis 1908.
Notre dîner était délicieux. En entrée, nous avons pris du hareng mariné avec de l’œuf et du caviar, et une tartine de carpaccio de bœuf avec du raifort. Pour le plat, j’ai commandé un ragoût de renne, et Louis a pris des boulettes suédoises traditionnelles.
Après le dîner, nous sommes allés au musée de photographie, Fotografiska Stockholm. Nous avons vu beaucoup d’œuvres. Ma préférée était une photo de Shepard Fairey. Ce n’était pas “Eye Alert” ou “Hope,” mais “Incarnation,” une belle femme avec une grande rose rouge.
P.S. J’ai adoré le buffet du petit-déjeuner de notre hôtel : il y avait de tout, et tout était tellement frais et délicieux! 😋
Le restaurant et le bar de notre hôtel : Hotel Frantz
8 Août 2024
Nous sommes allés à Gamla Stan (la vieille ville) et au Moderna Museet (le musée d’art moderne). Gamla Stan était charmante et culturelle. Il y avait beaucoup de bâtiments anciens et colorés. La météo était merveilleuse, et nous nous sommes promenés jusqu’au Moderna Museet. Je n’ai pas aimé toutes les expositions, mais j’ai particulièrement adoré une œuvre de Maurizio Cattelan, un artiste italien. “Him,” une sculpture représentant Hitler dans un salon rouge, était très puissante.
Le dîner était chic. C’était bon, mais le service était lent. Par exemple, j’ai remarqué qu’il y avait du pain délicieux, mais le serveur ne nous en a jamais proposé! J’ai dû demander!
Avant de dormir, nous avons trouvé un film en anglais à la télé : “The Lord of the Rings 1.” C’était la première fois que je le regardais. Je n’ai pas tout compris, mais j’ai aimé regarder un film que Louis adore avec lui dans le lit. C’était un beau moment!
Au Moderna Museet:
9 Août 2024
Hier, nous avons pris un bateau pour le palais de Drottningholm, une résidence d’été pour la famille royale depuis le 17ème siècle.
Nous avons déjeuné sur le bateau, avec des vues magnifiques sur les rivières, la mer et de nombreuses petites îles.
Le palais de Drottningholm était très beau et impressionnant! Il y avait plusieurs salles, chacune avec son propre style. Ma préférée était la bibliothèque. Elle est grande, élégante et brillante, avec des couleurs blanches et dorées.
Les jardins étaient très beaux et très grands. Nous avons exploré les différents jardins et un petit bâtiment intéressant, le pavillon chinois. C’était un cadeau du roi à la reine au 17ème siècle. Chaque salle avait une décoration chinoise unique.
Pour dîner, nous sommes allés à Prinsen, un restaurant traditionnel dans un quartier chic. J’ai adoré! Les plats, les serveurs, les autres clients, l’ambiance… tout était parfait! J’ai pris “le trésor du vieil homme” en entrée. Il y avait six sortes de poissons et crevettes, des petites pommes de terre, du fromage et du pain, mon préféré!
10 Août 2024
Il y a plus de 50 musées à Stockholm. Hier, nous en avons visité trois.
D’abord, nous avons commencé par le Spritmuseum, un musée qui explore la culture de la boisson en Suède. Nous avons découvert une exposition fantastique: Absolut Statehood. 51 artistes ont créé des œuvres mettant en valeur leur état ou région tout en intégrant Absolut vodka. Toutes les œuvres étaient fabuleuses!
Nous avons pris un verre au restaurant du musée et découvert un snack merveilleux: “Crisps and Dip.” Ce sont des chips servies avec des œufs de poisson, des échalotes, des oignons verts et du beurre râpé. Tout était parfaitement équilibré!
Et puis, nous sommes allés au musée ABBA. Avant de rencontrer Louis, je ne connaissais pas bien ABBA, mais maintenant, je les adore. Ma partie préférée était le film d’introduction. C’était très impactant!
Finalement, nous avons visité le musée Vasa. Ce musée conserve le seul navire entièrement intact du 17ème siècle jamais récupéré : le Vasa, un navire de guerre avec 64 canons qui a coulé juste après avoir quitté le port lors de son voyage inaugural en 1628.
Pour le dîner, nous avons découvert un restaurant créatif, Black Milk Gastro Bar. Chaque plat était original et délicieux. Mon préféré était le steak tartare, servi avec de l’huile de truffe, des amandes et de la mayonnaise. C’était le meilleur steak tartare que j’ai jamais mangé!
Le Dîner de Black Milk Gastro Bar and Hotel Frantz :
11 Août 2024
C’est le dernier jour de notre voyage, et c’est le “shopping and relaxing day” !
Après notre retour à Chicago, c'était notre deuxième anniversaire de rencontre!
If You’re a Wine Nerd, Watch This Documentary
A Year in Burgundy - this documentary is free to watch on a lot of platforms. If you’re a wine nerd like me, you will enjoy it thoroughly.
This documentary, written and directed by David Kennard, walks you through a full year of the wine making process in Burgundy, along with the history, culture, and people of Burgundy. It plays out in the order of four seasons, starting with Spring. The wines/ grapes covered in the film are of course Pinot Noir and Chardonnay since they’re Burgundy’s main grapes. Many wine making practices mentioned in the film are common old-world practices, such as fermenting whole clusters instead of destemmed grapes.
What you will learn and hopefully enjoy:
How local wine makers (often families who have run their vineyards for hundreds of years) see, create, and respect wine and its culture
Agriculture basics around working with vines and wine grapes
Technical and creative perspectives to wine making processes at different wineries
A bit about Burgundy’s history, fun facts, and local celebrations. E.g., do you know that Christianity saved local wine making after the Roman empire collapsed and the monks made observant notes and built storage caves that are still used today? I love Napa too but the historical and cultural depth of the old world holds a special place in my heart.
What I enjoyed the most, besides the technical knowledge, is understanding how these wine makers respect nature and appreciate life and its cycle. At the end of the film, you may feel you are acquiring a new perspective on life by immersing yourself in the life of a vine.
Some good quotes:
Yesterday I spent the whole afternoon in my vines. Yes, of course, I know my vines! When they don't see me they're unhappy. When I arrive, they're happy. I really love my vines. Vines are not well understood. You have to put yourself in their place. You have to understand why they're not doing well. You have to be part of the life of the vine. This was said by Lalou Bize-Leroy, one of the most powerful women in wine.
A vine has to suffer...to make good grapes - referring to weather’s impact on vines and grapes.
They all used to have their own character, like human beings. But progress is pushing all of us to make the same kind of wine - referring to the increasingly automated, science-based modern wine making process.
If this documentary sounds too dry, or if you’re only interested in wine tasting, I recommend the Somm series (3 documentaries from 2012-2018), which is more entertaining, emotional, and relevant to our daily life.
I only started learning about the technical aspect of wine making and tasting last year because of my personal interest. I have always loved wine, from knowing nothing to studying wine books after a whole day of work and my evening finance class. In the past decade, sometimes I was sober-curious and sometimes I was drinking 1-2 glasses every day just to wind down at the end of the day. Now I have built a good and consistent habit of drinking in moderation, a habit I completely enjoy so it’s sustainable. I don’t think about drinking at all when I get too busy or simply don’t want to drink.
Wine has become just something I truly appreciate from the bottom of my heart to the tip of my tongue, and it brings me so much joy to learn about all the details behind its making. I hope you enjoy it too!