We are settling in so nicely here in Paris that I almost don't feel as if I'm away. Obviously I don't have my apartment and my things, but I do have Paris, and that turns out to have been mine all along.
I am surprised at how easily I fell back into the rhythm of daily life here and accepted all the little differences that occur to distinguish life here from life in California.
I know, too, that if I stay long enough I will find the daily annoyances that used to drive me crazy and will, again. But for now, I am reveling in it. Someone forces me off the sidewalk? Quelle suprise! No bakery open in the 17th for blocks and blocks? Of course, it's August. It helps that I do not have to work, nor navigate my way to and from anywhere on a regular basis. I can simply enjoy the city on my terms, and I have been doing that.
Earlier in the week we went to the Parc Monceau so Paul could run. It was my first time there, even though I'd known of it forever. But it's not in "my" neighborhood, so I never really had cause to visit. It's lovely there, and I was surprised by all the hustle and bustle. We were there late morning, around 11 I'd guess, and there had to be 30 joggers out, crowding the path around the park. I felt like I'd stumbled into a race.
There were kids visiting, too, from whatever daycare/daycamp/dayschool. I love watching little kids on excursions here. They hold hands in pairs or trios and have name tags pinned to their shirts. Then they snake around on their way to getting where they're going (in this case, it was the duck pond.)
I can't -- and won't -- compare living here to living in Long Beach. It's not a fair comparison as each has its own charms. While I'd love a local park in Long Beach where there are no homeless people taking up all the benches, I'd also love a beach in Paris that wasn't man-made and planted along the Seine.
You take what you can get wherever you are, I think. And right now, I'm taking all I can from Paris.
August 20, 2009
August 13, 2009
Hanging Around
When we said were going to hang out in Paris, we really meant it. If we do any true, touristic sightseeing, it will probably be accidental, or maybe out of a sense of obligation near the end of our stay. As in: I always did want to see the Chateau at Fontainebleu.
For now, we're just taking in the sights around us, and, as usual, I marvel at all the things there are to see. (And, within the next few days, I hope to post some photos on flickr)
We are in the Marais, always chock-full of people and interesting shops. Walking over to the Bastille area today I passed a man singing opera in the arcades of the Place to Vosges, very near to the fancy Pavillon des Reines hotel. (video to come)
The last several days there have been rock concerts at the Hotel de Ville. There is always something going on at Paris Plage, along the quay. We found free massages offered by massage students on the bridge between the Ile St Louis and the Ile de la Cite.
Of course, this is summer, but that doesn't always mean there are more things around. In fact, because a good number of locals get out of town, it often means there are less. The outdoor markets, for example, are sparsely populated by merchants and there are no weekend markets that feature, say, arts and crafts or brocante.
Still, it's a feast for the eyes, and I love just walking down the streets, looking at different neighborhoods and hanging out.
Maybe we'll take a boat ride one day, and manage to hang out and sight-see in one fell swoop.
For now, we're just taking in the sights around us, and, as usual, I marvel at all the things there are to see. (And, within the next few days, I hope to post some photos on flickr)
We are in the Marais, always chock-full of people and interesting shops. Walking over to the Bastille area today I passed a man singing opera in the arcades of the Place to Vosges, very near to the fancy Pavillon des Reines hotel. (video to come)
The last several days there have been rock concerts at the Hotel de Ville. There is always something going on at Paris Plage, along the quay. We found free massages offered by massage students on the bridge between the Ile St Louis and the Ile de la Cite.
Of course, this is summer, but that doesn't always mean there are more things around. In fact, because a good number of locals get out of town, it often means there are less. The outdoor markets, for example, are sparsely populated by merchants and there are no weekend markets that feature, say, arts and crafts or brocante.
Still, it's a feast for the eyes, and I love just walking down the streets, looking at different neighborhoods and hanging out.
Maybe we'll take a boat ride one day, and manage to hang out and sight-see in one fell swoop.
The Day(s) the Music Died
My iPod died on Saturday, but it took several days for the coroner to pronounce.
It began by jamming, and not producing sound. The first shop fiddled with it and up came the red x of death. He shook his head sadly, and said I might have some luck with another shop. I tried a specialized Apple shop, and the guy gave me a sad smile as he listened to the off-track whir of the hard drive.
Now I have an iDoorstop as my brother Dan said. Or maybe an iPaperweight.
I don't fault Apple so much -- it fell off the bed, albeit it was a short fall. It's possible in the last 18 months it has banged around and this was the final straw. But it does seem to me that iPods are so ubiquitous there must be many accidents like this and they probably should have a lifespan of more than 18 months.
I love my iPod, and I loved my iPod before this. I never would have guessed it, but I was made for an iPod. When I lived in Paris full-time, I was rarely seen on the street without the earbuds. My own personal soundtrack for life.
My first one, one of the early generations, had some battery issues and while it plays it doesn't hold much of a charge. Paul got me a new one for Christmas in 2007 and I fell in love with him all over again. There was no gift that year that I wanted more. And this one was inscribed, which made it all the more special.
The guy at the store conceded that iPods weren't made to be repaired and the cost to even try would be more than getting a new one -- especially in the U.S.
And if this one weren't sentimental, I'd probably just turn around and buy a Nano on my return -- something within my budget until I decided to go back to the Classic that I have. Either way, I won't make a decision until we get back in September.
Until then I'm just kind of sad about it.
It began by jamming, and not producing sound. The first shop fiddled with it and up came the red x of death. He shook his head sadly, and said I might have some luck with another shop. I tried a specialized Apple shop, and the guy gave me a sad smile as he listened to the off-track whir of the hard drive.
Now I have an iDoorstop as my brother Dan said. Or maybe an iPaperweight.
I don't fault Apple so much -- it fell off the bed, albeit it was a short fall. It's possible in the last 18 months it has banged around and this was the final straw. But it does seem to me that iPods are so ubiquitous there must be many accidents like this and they probably should have a lifespan of more than 18 months.
I love my iPod, and I loved my iPod before this. I never would have guessed it, but I was made for an iPod. When I lived in Paris full-time, I was rarely seen on the street without the earbuds. My own personal soundtrack for life.
My first one, one of the early generations, had some battery issues and while it plays it doesn't hold much of a charge. Paul got me a new one for Christmas in 2007 and I fell in love with him all over again. There was no gift that year that I wanted more. And this one was inscribed, which made it all the more special.
The guy at the store conceded that iPods weren't made to be repaired and the cost to even try would be more than getting a new one -- especially in the U.S.
And if this one weren't sentimental, I'd probably just turn around and buy a Nano on my return -- something within my budget until I decided to go back to the Classic that I have. Either way, I won't make a decision until we get back in September.
Until then I'm just kind of sad about it.
August 7, 2009
Evolution of an Evening
One of the things that happens here, that doesn't happen quite so often at home, is the accidental social event.
Last night we dropped by a friend's place, where we will be staying later in the month, to meet the woman who is there now and sort of get the lay of the land.
We parted company five hours later.
It was innocuous enough: we came in off the street rather warm and she offered us something to drink. Some Rose? Some red wine? Water? Orangina? We opted for Rose, and after taking a brief tour around the apartment, we sat down to chat and drink and have some nibbles. (All good Parisian hostesses offer a little something with the wine.) We finished the Rose and moved on to the Cahors. By the time we finished that bottle, (effortlessly, I must say), I looked at the clock, saw it was 9:30 p.m. and decided we should probably eat something.
We had a change of venue to the brasserie down the street and settled in for more conversation. That's the other thing: you get to meet some fascinating people out here. This woman, with whom I have several friends in common, graduated from the same University as I did. Her husband worked at the IHT a few years before I arrived, but it is her tale that is most interesting. She initially wanted to cover Latin American affairs at the Miami Herald back when women didn't really do that. She got a Ph.D in International Relations so she could do it, and still they were reluctant.
Many cities and university professorships later, she is teaching journalism in Abu Dhabi. How's that for a grand adventure?
We both ordered moules frites, one of several things on my must-eat-when-I'm-back-in-Paris list, Paul ordered a salad, and we talked for another two hours.
That's the fun of it -- we thought we'd stop by to check out the wi-fi connection, and closing in on midnight we were on the Metro back to the Marais. We didn't overstay our welcome, or impose on her plans ... it just sort of evolved, as things like that so often do here.
Accidental social event indeed.
Last night we dropped by a friend's place, where we will be staying later in the month, to meet the woman who is there now and sort of get the lay of the land.
We parted company five hours later.
It was innocuous enough: we came in off the street rather warm and she offered us something to drink. Some Rose? Some red wine? Water? Orangina? We opted for Rose, and after taking a brief tour around the apartment, we sat down to chat and drink and have some nibbles. (All good Parisian hostesses offer a little something with the wine.) We finished the Rose and moved on to the Cahors. By the time we finished that bottle, (effortlessly, I must say), I looked at the clock, saw it was 9:30 p.m. and decided we should probably eat something.
We had a change of venue to the brasserie down the street and settled in for more conversation. That's the other thing: you get to meet some fascinating people out here. This woman, with whom I have several friends in common, graduated from the same University as I did. Her husband worked at the IHT a few years before I arrived, but it is her tale that is most interesting. She initially wanted to cover Latin American affairs at the Miami Herald back when women didn't really do that. She got a Ph.D in International Relations so she could do it, and still they were reluctant.
Many cities and university professorships later, she is teaching journalism in Abu Dhabi. How's that for a grand adventure?
We both ordered moules frites, one of several things on my must-eat-when-I'm-back-in-Paris list, Paul ordered a salad, and we talked for another two hours.
That's the fun of it -- we thought we'd stop by to check out the wi-fi connection, and closing in on midnight we were on the Metro back to the Marais. We didn't overstay our welcome, or impose on her plans ... it just sort of evolved, as things like that so often do here.
Accidental social event indeed.
August 5, 2009
Twinkle, Twinkle
We were invited for dinner tonight, to the apartment of friends who live in the 7th, mere blocks from my old stomping grounds. While I'm enjoying the variety of a new quartier, I really do miss the 7th and its wide boulevards, numerous trees and open spaces.
Dinner was nice, Nicola made a tarte aux pommes avec confit de canard (apple tart with shredded duck) and I got to see one of my favorite kids in the world -- her son Luke. We also were introduced to her new son, Ben.
On the way back to the metro, as we were crossing a street I looked up and saw the Eiffel Tower twinkling. This is the first time since we've been back that I've seen it -- lit up or not. My heart thrilled. All these years later and I still love the Eiffel Tower.
It doesn't hurt, either, that Paul proposed to me underneath it, and as it was twinkling. So I don't mean to be all sappy, but it was definitely pretty cool. If I see it another hundred times in my life I won't ever tire of it.
Dinner was nice, Nicola made a tarte aux pommes avec confit de canard (apple tart with shredded duck) and I got to see one of my favorite kids in the world -- her son Luke. We also were introduced to her new son, Ben.
On the way back to the metro, as we were crossing a street I looked up and saw the Eiffel Tower twinkling. This is the first time since we've been back that I've seen it -- lit up or not. My heart thrilled. All these years later and I still love the Eiffel Tower.
It doesn't hurt, either, that Paul proposed to me underneath it, and as it was twinkling. So I don't mean to be all sappy, but it was definitely pretty cool. If I see it another hundred times in my life I won't ever tire of it.
LAT Update
The woman house-sitting for us in Long Beach e-mailed to tell us the Los Angeles Times called, and asked if we would subscribe -- for 50 cents a week.
Because she answered the phone, and not I, she said "No, thank you." Were it I who received the call the answer would have been: "I would pay you $4 if you could get it to my door."
But you all know that already.
Because she answered the phone, and not I, she said "No, thank you." Were it I who received the call the answer would have been: "I would pay you $4 if you could get it to my door."
But you all know that already.
Ah, Paris
We're actually here and I think sometimes, maybe you can go home again.
I've got this strange dilemma: Paris-Long Beach, Long Beach-Paris. They are two very different places, and offer me two very different things. But I'm equally at home in both of them, for now, and glad to leave one for the other, if only temporarily.
Tuesday evening, once we had settled into our Marais apartment (ok, Liz's Marais apartment -- and for those of you wishing to visit Paris, I highly recommend her place.) We went to the ATM, went to the grocery store, found out one of my favorite bakeries is open the whole month! And then we strolled over to the Ile St Louis.
We were hanging out on the quay, enjoying the magnificent weather, watching people line up for Berthillon ice cream (and did I have my camera? sadly, no). The summer flavors are here: peche de vigne, fruit de la passion, fraise de bois, pamplemousse. Each mouthful offers an amazing flavor burst that's hard to describe. You can tell that the flavors are only offered in season, and made from real fruit.
Afterward, revelling in the still-light sky at about 9:30 p.m., we met up with a great friend of mine, and had some wine and Badoit and good conversation. She and Paul got into a really good discussion of philosophy, of all things, and that was sort of their point: She could name a half dozen well-known philosophers, he none. And how that was a cultural thing.
When we finally went to sleep, I marveled at how I could be in one of the noisiest quartiers in the city, yet it was silent outside because we're within the courtyard -- no sirens or cars or people like in Long Beach.
We have more to do today -- find me a sim card for the cell phone, head over to the Luxembourg Gardens so Paul can run, meet up with friends for dinner.
And so much to enjoy.
I've got this strange dilemma: Paris-Long Beach, Long Beach-Paris. They are two very different places, and offer me two very different things. But I'm equally at home in both of them, for now, and glad to leave one for the other, if only temporarily.
Tuesday evening, once we had settled into our Marais apartment (ok, Liz's Marais apartment -- and for those of you wishing to visit Paris, I highly recommend her place.) We went to the ATM, went to the grocery store, found out one of my favorite bakeries is open the whole month! And then we strolled over to the Ile St Louis.
We were hanging out on the quay, enjoying the magnificent weather, watching people line up for Berthillon ice cream (and did I have my camera? sadly, no). The summer flavors are here: peche de vigne, fruit de la passion, fraise de bois, pamplemousse. Each mouthful offers an amazing flavor burst that's hard to describe. You can tell that the flavors are only offered in season, and made from real fruit.
Afterward, revelling in the still-light sky at about 9:30 p.m., we met up with a great friend of mine, and had some wine and Badoit and good conversation. She and Paul got into a really good discussion of philosophy, of all things, and that was sort of their point: She could name a half dozen well-known philosophers, he none. And how that was a cultural thing.
When we finally went to sleep, I marveled at how I could be in one of the noisiest quartiers in the city, yet it was silent outside because we're within the courtyard -- no sirens or cars or people like in Long Beach.
We have more to do today -- find me a sim card for the cell phone, head over to the Luxembourg Gardens so Paul can run, meet up with friends for dinner.
And so much to enjoy.
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