The Bold Soul

Sunday in the Park with Georges

Blogging to you LIVE from the Parc Monceau (with Georges' iPod Touch and free WiFi courtesy of the city which installed it in most public parks last summer!) where we are picnicking with our neighbor and her kids. 

Ain't technology grand?

Happy Mothers Day to all the moms.

Fanning the flames of love

Reading this post just now reminded me of the rather unusual thing that happened on Friday night while MY FIANCÉ (sorry to put that in all caps but I'm not bored with saying it yet) was presenting me with my lovely ENGAGEMENT RING (saying that hasn't gotten old yet, either).

Georges took me to a very good Vietnamese restaurant near Abbesses. We got there before the dinner rush and got a table in a corner with a little bit of privacy but still with a view of the street outside. About half way through our main course, the restaurant started to fill up, when suddenly a very unusual couple came in: two gay men, one of whom weighed at least 300 lbs and was completely done up in a rather flamboyant drag. (Sad to say, considering the amount of effort that had clearly gone into his choice of outfit and makeup, he didn't make a very attractive woman and I suspect that under the many layers of pancake makeup that did little to hide his 5 o'clock shadow, he probably wasn't a very attractive man, either. But I digress.) The other man was more androgynous-looking in a 1970s-era beige corduroy jacket, pants and matching cap, but a man nonetheless.

It took them a few moments to choose where they were going to sit, apparently requiring some debate between them, and they ultimately chose the table directly next to ours. Other than periodically sneaking a sideways glance at them (it was obvious they wanted to be noticed), I did as I normally do when surrounded by French-speaking people who aren't speaking to me: I tuned out their conversation and focused on being with the man I love. I found out later from Georges that the drag queen was saying to his friend that he didn't like going to restaurants in certain parts of Paris like the 6ème, because inevitably -- and here's where I thought he would say that people made fun of him for his appearance and lifestyle -- men were always hitting on him.

OK. Whatever you have to tell yourself to get through the day, I guess.

We ate such a good meal that I was rather full and could have easily skipped dessert, but Georges seemed to want to try something exotic, so we agreed to share a banana flambéed with rum. Georges, for some reason, got up to go talk to the owner about making it, even though it was on the menu, but I didn't think a whole lot about it at the time. I had never had a flambéed banana so I thought it would be an interesting choice.

When the dessert arrived, it was a very large banana that had been dipped in some batter and pre-fried so that it was kind of puffed up, which made it really, really huge-looking. Uh... quite impressive, actually. In fact, the couple next to us seemed VERY impressed by it, because they laughed and the dramatic one said to his less dramatic friend, "Ça te rappelle quelque chose?" (Does that remind you of something?)

After setting the banana on fire, the waiter brought out two glasses of champagne and I thought how sweet that was for Georges to order champagne to go with the flambée. He's very good at making normal, every day moments very special.

Except this turned out not to be a normal, everyday moment. Because after the flames went out (on the banana), he reached into his right coat pocket and pulled out a little box, all wrapped in shiny gold paper and gold ribbon. He placed the box in front of me, and smiled, the love and the fire in his eyes so evident as always. I started to cry a little but for once, was able to contain myself so the other customers wouldn't have to see me go into my "ugly cry". And I opened the box.

Later that night, as we were curled up in bed together rehashing our evening and I was doing what women usually do in these situations -- holding my hand up in the light to admire the ring, of course (what did you think I meant?) -- Georges told me that when he presented me with the ring and I put it on, the thinner of the two men at the other table said something else:

"Je rêve qu'il m'arrive la même chose." I dream the same thing will happen to me.

I truly hope he gets his wish someday, because everyone deserves such a magical moment, to have the person he/she loves plan such a special evening with a perfect finale. Even if it does come with an overweight transvestite à côté. Because you can't plan everything. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We are definitely going back to that restaurant again.

The Lusty Month of May

It's May in Paris! Go forth and be lusty. Kiss with your amoureux or amoureuse in public places -- go ahead, no one will care! Do as you will.

I wonder if it means anything that my birthday is in May? Does that make me lustier than people born in other months?

*Clip from Lerner & Lowe's Camelot. Vanessa Redgrave can't carry a tune to save her life sings like a casserole, and for this I might apologize, but I didn't cast her.

It never snows in Paris

Yeah, right. Except in April!

Of course it will have melted off by 9am.

An Eye-full of Controversy... Again?

Now that I'm finally catching up on several days worth of news feeds from the States, it is coming to my attention that the Eiffel Tower may once again be the subject of some controversy over its design.

Of course it's well known that when it was first built for the Universal Exhibition in 1889, Parisians generally seemed to disapprove of la Tour Eiffel, which was supposed to be a temporary structure but later remained intact. When the sparkling light show was added a few years ago, glittering for 10 minutes every hour on the hour, Parisians sniffed at the display as being in bad taste. Now perhaps they have a new reason to call their national symbol (love it or hate it) "hideous".

The New York Times reported on Monday that:

"The Societe Nouvelle d’Exploitation de la Tour Eiffel, the company that manages the landmark, has decided to temporarily “restructure the public reception and access areas of the tower” as part of celebrations marking the 120th anniversary..."

The source of this announcement was the architectural firm who conceived the image on the right (source: NY Times) according to the U.K.'s Guardian. The article in the Times goes on to say that the plan would be for the top observation deck to be altered in such a way that would NOT change the original structure, the idea being to provide more space for the anticipated surge in crowds during the anniversary year. Other news reports call the design a "mushroom cap" -- a dig, perhaps, at the French love of the almighty champignon?

The problem with this report is that it may be completely false. Either the Times got their information wrong (from the Guardian or other sources they may have used), or the powers that be at the Eiffel are trying to hide this decision for the moment, because since the initial report came out, several updates were posted at the Times web site as they back-pedaled to say that (1) the design had not been officially confirmed, (2) the Eiffel officials denied the Guardian's entire report, (3) the architectural firm took back their official announcement but maintained they were still a candidate even while the Eiffel people claim no such competition exists!

So make of it what you will, and because I am not yet making a habit of reading the French press it's possible this story has already been spun in another direction by the locals. (If you've got an update, please post a comment with links to other sources.) What I WILL say is, I actually really like the twinkling lights and hope they keep them, but if they try to turn the Eiffel Tower into a tacky rendition of Seattle's Space Needle then I will be among the protesters calling it "hideous" and may march in my first manifestation. All that construction and money spent, just to make way for more tourists for a YEAR? It doesn't seem reasonable. But that doesn't stop change, sometimes, as we all know.

And I wish these news outlets would get their facts bloody well straight (and stop regurgitating other news sources lax reporting) before they open their big mouths. This is how rumors get started and how presidential races get tainted before they're even finished.

Pigeons on my head

OK, so not actually ON my head, but over it.

My office space in the house has a skylight. Every so often, I will hear the dulcet tones of pigeon feet gratte-ing as they walk around on the tin roof around the skylight. I can't help but look up, and then see them peering down at me. Suspiciously. Like they don't trust me. Uh-oh.

Flashing back to Tippi Hedren in The Birds now...

I've been to that schoolhouse in Bodega Bay, by the way, back in 1998. The area around it has been built up with a few houses, that tree to the left of the school is now taller than the entire building and the playground equipment is gone now (all movie props) but otherwise when I saw it, it looked just as forlorn and creepy in '98 as it did then. I think the current owners probably gave it a fresh paint job and someone added a picket fence in front to make it feel more "homey".

Reminded

I am in my home office, diligently attempting to work on some client articles despite having what I now believe is a touch of bronchitis (Georges seems fine, fortunately). I came to this conclusion after a dizzy spell this morning while just sitting innocently at the desk, and having to lie down on a blanket on the floor until it passed. Bronchitis, as I know from far too many past experiences, just beats the hell out of me. So far this little episode not so bad, though. Not bad enough to keep me away from celebrating a new book with a fellow blogger tonight! (I will just have to take it easy on the champagne, which I'm sure is good news for the other invitées as it means more for the rest of them!)

As I am typing away, immersed in my work, I slowly become aware of a steady, melodious sound. Church bells. There is a church nearby, and for some reason at about 2:45 on this Friday afternoon, the bells started ringing, and kept on pealing away for a good 7 or 8 minutes. Friday afternoon mass? I haven't noticed whether this is a regular occurrence. Or a wedding perhaps? I am picturing a bride and groom standing on the steps of the church, surrounded by friends and family as the celebrate the religious part of their wedding that would (in France) follow the requisite civil ceremony at the Mairie. I'm glad, for their sake (assuming there is a wedding) that it's not raining this afternoon.

In the end, though, it doesn't much matter why the bells are ringing. I just like that I am living in a part of Paris where it is quiet enough to notice a thing like church bells in the middle of the afternoon. Living where we live, I hardly ever hear the traffic, sirens or garbage truck noises I used to notice in the 15ème. We can even hear birdsong in the wee morning hours, if the window is open. Hearing the bells just gives me another reminder that I love living here: "here" meaning (in order of priority) with Georges... in my new quartier... in Paris... in France.

I know, we've all heard church bells in our lives. Nothing to go on about. Yet somehow, these bells even sounded French.

Hippo Valentine's Day

Totally adorable shop window in the 5ème arrondissement, with hippos galore. I was tempted to get that pillow, I really was.

(Yes, I sent a copy to Dooce as she is totally into hippos.)

Delighted

Last night, I came home from a very satisfying Girls-Night-Out with friends U and L, having imbibed my full 1/3 share of two bottles of Brouilly. We dished about work, reincarnation, our love lives, and U's upcoming wedding to her Frenchman in the near future. Feeling deliciously fuzzy and mellow, but not quite ready for sleep, I logged on to check on what's new with my favorite bloggers. Or to see if perhaps a miracle has taken place and the Presidential race in America will suddenly make sense to me (no such luck, I'm afraid).

And I discovered, to my delight, that one of my recent suspicions has come true: fellow Paris ex-pat blogger Petite Anglaise and her favorite l'Homme Français have decided to tie the knot! And have announced it (there have been hints for a few weeks now) just in time for Valentine's Day.

There is nothing like being in successfully and joyfully in love to make you so happy to see other people experiencing the same. What wonderful news!

Check out Petite's upcoming new book, "Petite Anglaise" to be released in March here in the UK and France, and in the US in June!

Pros and cons

First SMS (text message) sent to a friend tonight:

"I am having pizza with Jane Austen, with a view of the Roman baths at the Cluny. How effing great is life in Paris?"

Second SMS sent to same friend not TEN MINUTES LATER:

"I am consistently disappointed by what passes for PIZZA in France. What the hell? Puh-leez discuss on your podcast and tell us where to find something edible and like home."

Friend's reply to this last:

"Oh, this is so easy. It's called Pizza Hut."

Sigh. Not to disparage my friend's preference in cheesy cuisine (and maybe she was pulling my leg) but Pizza Hut has never been my favorite (I never eat there when in the States), and I really try to avoid American fast food over here, just on general principle because this is FRANCE for crying out loud and the food is supposed to be a matter of pride here. Or so I thought. Plus I'm from New Jersey where we have a large Italian-American population and fantastic pizza is available pretty nearly everywhere. Sure, sometimes you get a mediocre slice and not all pizzerias are created equal. Yet in all the time I have lived here now, the best pizza I have had was in an Italian restaurant in GENEVA last summer where the pizza was not only comparable to what I could have gotten in my favorite pizza joint in my home town, but I think it was even BETTER. And that is really saying something.

Living in Paris can be a mixed bag. Right at your doorstep, you have all this incredible history, beautiful buildings and scenery, the best art in the world, amazing pastries, great wine and chocolat chaud, and now it's all smoke-free, too.

On the other hand, try and get a decent slice or a bagel here. I guess you just can't have everything in life.

Guess correctly and win!

I have been thinning out my library of books here in Paris, having made a commitment not to get any new books until I (a) finish reading some of the ones I already have and (b) hand off to others the ones I've already read and no longer want or need to keep. Faced with the prospect of packing and moving a lot of stuff across town at some point, and books being heavy to begin with, I am trying to be a bit ruthless with my collection here.

It was during this weeding out process that I came across two books I DEFINITELY do not need, as they are remnants of my former single status, B.G. (before Georges). I thought I could make a little contest out of passing them along to a new owner, instead of just saying "Hey, anyone want these two books I've got lying around collecting dust?"

And so... (drum roll, please) if YOU are one of the first two people to correctly guess the name of the above Parisian landmark shown in the photo, you will win one of the books:

• He's Just Not That Into You: The Newly Expanded Edition, by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo
• Older Women, Younger Men: New Options for Love and Romance, by Felicia Brings and Susan Winters [shut up... I can hear you laughing over this title from here, especially as I did not end up with a younger man]

The person with the first correct guess gets to choose which of the two books s/he wants, and the second correct guesser will receive the other book. Both books are in excellent condition, no writing or damage. I will ship them anywhere in the world and pay for the postage but if I'm shipping outside of France I'll be paying for the cheapest (and therefore slowest) shipping with no insurance or package tracking. If you want it faster or want it insured or trackable, you'll need to pay me for the cost of the shipping. If it gets lost -- oh well, that's life; I won't be replacing the book, sorry. This is all in fun, anyway.

THERE IS ONE CATCH (there's ALWAYS a catch, isn't there?) Along with your guess/entry/comment, you have to tell me the entire blogging world WHY you are interested in winning one of these particular books. We want your juicy story! Are you dating a loser who's not into you -- and if so, what's up with that? Are you looking at people like Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher and thinking: "Hey, what's good enough for Demi is good enough for me?" Are you hoping to win a book for your single best friend or sister because you are sick and tired of listening to her bitch and whine about the jerks she's dating? It's OK to keep it brief and I don't need names or sordid details, but do make it interesting. Inquiring minds want to know!

The Rules for Contest Entry:

• You must make your guess/contest entry via blog comments only. No direct email "entries" will be accepted because I want to keep it fair for everyone.
• One entry per person please.
• Guesses that do NOT contain a decent "story" (see above paragraph, "THERE IS ONE CATCH...") will be ineligible to win, even if you guess correctly. Hey, if I am paying for the shipping you have to give my readers SOMETHING. I will be the sole judge (or "soul" judge) who will decide if the "story" is eligible -- so don't try any lame tales like "I just thought the book might be interesting to read" or "I am too cheap to pay for my own copy of the book".
• You must supply a valid email address with your comment. Don't worry, I'll be the only one to see it. Without a valid email address, I can't arrange for shipping.
• Do not include your mailing address or phone number in your comment unless you want some crazy person out there to make a note of it. If you've won, I will contact you directly via email and we'll privately exchange the necessary information for shipping purposes. I promise not to give your personal information to anyone else other than the post office; I understand the importance of privacy.
• I reserve the right to cancel the contest altogether, without notice and for any reason without limitation. Like, for instance, if no one guesses correctly (or even enters at all) and I am stuck with these two books anyway.
• There are no other prizes, no cash awards, and no fame or fortune in it for the winners.

Just think how happy Georges will be to learn I am getting rid of these two books. And so creatively, too. I promise to post the answer to the "mystery photo" and the first names/nicknames of the winners, too.

OK, people -- the contest is officially open for the next TWO WEEKS (after which time comments will close and the contest is over)! Guess away (it's not quite the most recognizable building in Paris) and may the best blogger win!

What would Caesar think?

This is what's left of les Arènes de Lutèce -- the Gallo-Roman era arena that dates to the 1st century A.D. For centuries, it was lost -- somehow covered over during the reign of Philippe Auguste -- until it was discovered again in the 1860s.

It is not a particularly impressive site nowadays. Attached to more "modern" Parisian apartment buildings and tucked away inside a small park, if you didn't know it was here you might not notice it at all. There are some small square enclosures with gates that I'm sure are where the lions or other animals were kept (and released to feast on Christians or criminals). Getting to the bottom from the top is a bit tricky - I found a way down by going over the left, then up some stairs to a higher level, then found a winding, steep staircase that leads down into that wide "entrance" you see just right of center in the photo.

Today, it's a place where kids come to play basketball or football, and the pétanque players were out in force, too (a nice flat sandy area is all they need). A lot more tame than in the Roman days, I must say. It's a bit sad that it's reduced to this, given it's one of two Roman sites still in existence in Paris (the Roman baths at the Cluny being the other).

Well, now I've seen it. I can check that one off my tourist list.

Breakfast of champions

You gotta love a country where chocolate is basically considered a food group all on its own and where consuming it for BREAKFAST is widely encouraged.

Strolling through the Champion supermarket yesterday, I had to bypass the 7,356 boxes of chocolate-supplemented cereals (they actually put flakes and chunks of chocolate in with their healthy bran flakes) to find one of the few cereals that do not contain chocolate. Chocolate breakfast cereals are simply not a taste I have acquired in France. Probably because I am 46, not 6.

But today, having a morning coffee with Georges at la Croissanterie on the Blvd. St. Germain in the 6th (if you spot us there some morning, please say hello), I have to say I really loved having a yummy pain au chocolat as an alternative to my usual healthy morning cereal routine... and the little morceau of dark chocolate they provided with my double espresso was delish.

A day without chocolate is just a day without sunshine.

Still the best hot chocolate, but...

In a rare morning foray outside my apartment (I normally never stir until lunchtime), at 11:00 this morning I met up with Kyliemac today for a little post-holiday girl talk and some of Paris' best chocolat chaud, at the famous Angelina on Rue de Rivoli (métro Tuileries, then head to the left under the arcades and walk about two blocks). I've been there a few times but now try to limit my visits to when I am entertaining out-of-towners. However, though Kylie has lived here for YEARS, somehow she never got around to visiting Angelina. So, we had to do it. We're both bored with Starbucks. Kylie even dressed up a little for the occasion (you looked MAHVELOUS, dahling!)

I have to say, having been there a few times now, that I DO adore the hot chocolate. You can get good hot chocolate in most places in Paris, and it's 10 times better than what you'd typically get in the States, but Angelina has some kind of really thick, yummy secret recipe that is well worth the calories (and don't forget to add the whipped cream).

Having said that, other than the first time I was there when I ordered a very rich and delicious Cyrano from the patisserie case (like I wasn't getting enough chocolate already in the beverage), the desserts at Angelina have really been a huge disappointment ever since. Today was no exception, when we split a plate of 4 macarons. They tasted OK but were rather heavy and gummy, and nothing like the dreamy light confections at Ladurée.

Also, the place is looking a little run down, and the service is adequate but not anything special, if you ask me. I think it has now gotten so over-touristed (although at 11am we strolled right in and got a table before the noon lunch rush) that their standards have dropped. Angelina is featured in nearly every Paris guidebook and you can usually expect to stand in line to get in, especially around afternoon tea-time.

So I would say, if you've read about Angelina and are simply dying to sample the hot chocolate, then go for it and enjoy, with my blessing. But save the dessert calories for when you stroll past some boulangerie and and the eclairs are calling your name.

Let les Soldes begin!

Unlike in America where sales are part of daily life and where you can sometimes score bigger bargains just BEFORE Christmas than you can just AFTER, stores in France are regulated by the government as to when they can have official "sales" on their merchandise, and twice a year -- January & July -- les Soldes take place. Everywhere you go, there are big "SOLDES!" signs in store windows, and the %-off discounts get progressively bigger as the weeks go on (usually the Soldes last several weeks, from today through 16 February in Paris). Bring your comfy shoes, and a lot of cash or credit cards, and get ready to roam the shops of Paris looking for great bargains. With the lousy exchange rate between the Dollar and Euro, though, you're likely to more or less break even at the end of it. But still -- it's shopping in PARIS so how can you really lose?

My friend over at La Page Française has done a great job of providing all the 411 on some sales+tourism info, so see here for the details. Also, check out this link, and happy shopping!

Samedi

What one couple in love did on a cold January Saturday in Paris (don't worry, it's rated PG):

Sleeping late (and for me, finally getting a good night's sleep, period, after a week of jet lag), then some quality cuddling followed by a late breakfast.

The Américaine introducing the Français to "Everybody Loves Raymond" on her new Season 5 DVD received as a Christmas gift.

Migrating back across town for the rest of the weekend, to keep an eye on the teenagers.

Lunch out at a brasserie, discovering that in France, a "filet mignon" can mean veal rather than red meat.

Going to the big Marché aux Puces at last -- and being SO glad I went with a knowledgeable guide, because I would have been lost for days in that place (can't wait to go back sometime when I've got some real spending money).

Getting excited over a display of hat pins in one stall, introducing him to the concept of hat pins and that I collect them -- and him buying me one I liked as a gift.

Him finding a stall that could repair the screen on his cell phone for about half of what an SFR store in the city would have charged.

Enjoying looking at all the interesting antique furniture, vintage clothing, old photographs, and more -- plus casing every dealer of Converse sneakers and realizing the ones I chose for his teenagers are brand new in America and probably haven't even hit France yet!

Coming home and having him serenade me with piano selections from Amélie Poulain.

Enjoying sushi (delivered!) with him and his teenagers on a rainy, cold evening. Heavenly!

Table for one, please

Last Saturday, while braving the Saturday holiday shopping crowds on Rue de Rennes, I finally gave in around 3pm and looked for a place to come in from the rain and cold, and have a civilized lunch with myself and the copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion which I had had the foresight to toss into my bag earlier.

I decided to splurge a little on lunch at Ladurée on Rue Bonaparte. I got seated quickly, which I have found is often the case when eating solo -- they can almost always squeeze you in somewhere. While it took forever to get my meal after I'd ordered, considering I ordered a SANDWICH (seriously, why does it take them 30 minutes to make a sandwich? Even a fancy one with the crusts cut off?) the staff was otherwise very nice (and the girls were dressed in ankle-length dresses, in full period costume!) and the sandwich -- the Club Champs Elysées, with four big chunky frites and a little salade -- was really delicious. As was the ice cream concoction I ordered afterward. And the upstairs room was really adorable, with dark, rich blue tufted sofas and slipper chairs, it was warm and dry and cozy.

Like I said... it was a splurge. I needed a boost before heading back out into the bad weather and crowds.

In the spirit

Paris is certainly getting in the holiday spirit. Stores and restaurants have their decorations up. I've seen a few apartment balconies with lights on them. The Saturday shoppers are definitely out in full force. And the Champs Elysées has the double rows of trees lit up in the usual pretty white lights, all the way from Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe.

Of course, I have yet to really experience ANY of this, this year. Last year at this time I was having a great time playing tourist in my first December in Paris... I went to holiday concerts, hit the Grand Magasins to do my gift shopping, played tour guide for a friend who was here for a week on business, and in general walked miles while taking photos of all the French holiday craziness. I even went over to London for a weekend of shopping and sightseeing.

This year, there are two reasons I have not been out and about more in the city, braving the crowds to do my shopping. The first is that I actually did the bulk of my holiday shopping while en vacances in Venice, Salzburg and Munich back in August. Since I got everyone Parisian gifts last year, I thought it would be fun to bring home a few surprises from other exotic locales. The other reason is that my U.S. dollar is not going as far as it did last year, and to be honest I'll be better off finishing the Christmas shopping when I get back to NJ in 10 days. So I'm simply not doing any gift-buying in Paris this year.

But next weekend, I've got some extra time all to myself, as my honey will be away on a business trip in Montréal (don't ask me why, but the organization he works for plans their board meetings over a WEEKEND). We spent this weekend -- our last together in 2007 (sniffle) -- having a quiet weekend in with his kids, due to the unexpected arrival of chicken pox (the Boy is doing great, by the way, and thoroughly enjoying the extra "quality" time with his dad plus having an extra playmate around for some extra attention).

So next week and over the weekend, I will get out with my camera and capture Holiday Paris. I really love it... even more lights, sights, and things to see. Maybe I will take in another holiday concert... there is nothing like listening to good classical music with the added ambiance of a candlelit cathedral at night.

I will need this little boost of holiday spirit this year. Right now all I can think of is the pile of work I have to do before I go, the packing I have to do, and then the being apart from Georges for so much of this month. I know I'll enjoy my time with my family and friends once I get there. And I don't want to fast-forward my holiday in wanting to come back to my guy -- I owe it to myself and my family to make the most of the visit home.

But I know I will be counting the days until New Year's Eve.

The Frost is on the Punkin

It is officially COLD here in Paris. As I write this, it is around 34 F/1 C, and that is definitely FROID no matter how you look at it.

You can see your breath when you're walking outside. The sunshine brings no warmth whatsoever. And for some reason the bus I took to get across town this morning wasn't running its chauffage, so it was even cold there. (But at least there WAS a bus, and I even managed to get a seat most of the way home, so it could have been much worse.)

Meanwhile, the strike continues. Perfect weather (NOT!) to have to use a bike, rollerblades or your own two feet to get wherever you're going. Nothing is running consistently and it changes every hour so you can't depend on any particular bus or métro to be available when you want it. This is likely to continue into the early part of next week, at least, from what we're hearing. Maybe I will be sticking close to home this weekend, or only going places I can get to easily on a Vélib.

Usually, walking warms me up, and I got in some good walking this morning, to and from the bus. But today seemed to be one of those days when you just can't get warm. So now I'm home, enjoying a hot cup of tea, and I have cranked up the radiators a bit.

Feels like winter is suddenly upon us in Paris, no matter what it says on the calendar. If there were a pumpkin patch here, it would be frosted for sure.

Strike Deux

Every new situation provides me with a chance to pick up a few new words in French. This week, it's the language of the French strike.

We've got our second big transportation strike here in France within the past month, both of them a reaction by the transportation unions to proposed pension reforms by the Sarkozy government (for details, try here or here). The first strike, at least as it was felt here in Paris, was more of an annoyance for most people (OK, for some it was much more than an annoyance, I'm sure) and it only lasted a couple of days, each day getting a bit better. This one promises to be a bit worse -- le trafic est très fortement perturbé -- as the unions have declared it "unlimited". This means it could go on indefinitely but will most certainly last more than a day or two. Many fear a repeat of the huge 1995 strike that lasted weeks and crippled Chirac's government; that strike had more popular public support than this one does, however -- 55% are said to be against this strike.

The RATP website, which normally provides really excellent tools like a point-to-point route planner and a little thing where you can find out when the next two buses are coming on any given bus line, is also shut down now except for regularly updated announcements of the status of the various metro, bus and tram lines running through Paris. And the news is not pretty; service has gotten progressively spottier as the day is heading into the afternoon/evening hours.

In my neighborhood, the 15th, for example, the two metro lines that serve this part of the arrondissement (the 12 and 13) are "service non assuré" which translates into "don't hold your breath or waste your time waiting for a train -- better hoof it". The buses (all of them) are still listed as "15% en moyenne" which is 15% of normal capacity. I hear a 95 bus pass by every so often but it does seem far less than normal.

Also, there is a big manifestation taking place around 2pm near Montparnasse where they are expecting around 12,000 transit workers plus workers from the EDF-GDF to protest the reforms the government is proposing (which is what the hubbub is all about in the first place). 19 bus lines run through that square and will be perturbées as a result.

Basically, this is not a good day to try and get around Paris (or even INTO Paris), and tomorrow promises to be no better. Georges and I are doing a "double date" dinner at his place with some friends of mine, and thank God one of my friends has a car to get us all to Georges' house on the far side of town from where I live; but still, the amount of organization it has taken to plan this cross-town trip so that we can hopefully arrive reasonably à l'heure is astonishing (I am beginning to appreciate public transportation more and more, the longer I'm here, especially when I have to map out a good driving route, with all the one-way streets in Paris!)

Suffice to say, there will be many tired and cranky commuters and tourists around the city. The Vélibs are sure to be in big demand. Bonne chance finding or even calling to reserve a taxi. And I hope all those Parisiennes have traded in their usual high heels for practical walking shoes.

And let's hope it doesn't last long.

One!

Forgive my 3rd post today... I was originally planning on posting this one on Monday the 12th, because I thought THAT was the date of my one year anniversary of being in Paris. However, a friend just reminded me that it was really one year ago TODAY that I arrived!!! (Wow... so many milestones in the past couple of days: 1 month with Georges, yesterday. 100,000 visitors just minutes ago. And now THIS! I am going to drink some serious champagne tonight at the Bloggers' Bar Night to celebrate!).

It hardly seems possible.

One year ago, I came here with the goal of "trying it on for size", this living abroad in Paris thing. It is something I have been wanting to do my entire life, and I blogged about wanting to do it for 18 months before ACTUALLY doing it... but for too many years I had pushed that dream aside. Finally, I had to ask myself: "Will I regret it more if I do NOT do it?" And the answer was an immediate YES.

So, I found a place to live for the first few weeks, filled out some paperwork, and got on a plane. The first 5-6 weeks, it was mainly like being on vacation with a little bit of work thrown in. I wandered the city for hours, camera in hand. I was alone the majority of the time, except for an occasional Meetup.com drinks party, a weekend in London as the guest of a client, and a few days in December when a friend from home was here on business. I was alone, and sometimes frustrated with things like figuring out public transportation, but I was happy because I was finally HERE. Yes, I pinched myself regularly.

Then, a month back in the States over the holidays, while I waited for my long-term furnished rental to become available. Oh, that was a LONG month. Back here again in mid-January having sold my car and shipped over more of my "stuff", and also bringing with me a bout of bronchitis that slowed me down for the first few weeks. Still in working tourist mode though, for a good month or so, because I was only here a few weeks when my best friend came over for 10 days. More sightseeing, another hop to London, tons of fun.

After that, another few friends came through town as we headed from winter (unseasonably mild) into spring. Around that time, I started to realize I'd better get more serious about working if I wanted to STAY here, so I finally started to settle into a regular routine of working and socializing the way I would do if I lived anywhere, with the emphasis being more on the work part. Except I was living and working in PARIS, which was still completely cool to think about.

Another visit back "home" around Easter... and telling the family that in all likelihood I wouldn't be home again until Christmas (that didn't go over so well). I really wanted more time to immerse myself here, plus the cost of all that flying back and forth would cut into funds I wanted to use to travel around Europe more in the summer months.

Business started picking up fast after that. In fact, I now typically seem to have more work than I know what to do with -- I know, what a "problem" to have, huh? My social life also picked up fast; I started making more real FRIENDS instead of just random acquaintances from Meetup parties. I spent my 46th birthday in Provence, another dream come true. There were Blogger picnics and 14 Juillet picnics to be enjoyed, and even a trip to Disneyland.

July found me planning a lovely two-week solo train trip through eight cities in five countries... until bad news from home made me wonder if I wouldn't have to cancel those plans and possibly attend a funeral. But my grandmother stabilized, and I decided to make the trip anyway with the support of family back home who thought it was the right thing for me to do... although I was constantly checking up on her as often as I could, hoping for the best but prepared for just about anything. Still, that trip was a definite highlight of my year... I finally feel I can call myself reasonably "well traveled", even though there are so many other places to see on my "list". Right after that, I was already mentally planning a 4-5 day driving tour through southern England for October or even November, as part of some book research I wanted to do; plus, let's face it, I was dying to see Oxford and Stratford-upon-Avon and some of the English countryside.

But life has a way of throwing you a curve now and then. My grandmother's situation worsened, requiring me to make an unexpected trip home to attend to some of her care-giving needs. The British driving tour would have to wait a little bit longer now. It was a long, tiring week, that NJ trip, but I accomplished everything I wanted for my grandmother plus a bit of fun and shopping for myself, and was extremely happy to come back to Paris. Seeing that Eiffel Tower lifts my spirits every time, even now. And for the first time, I started to feel like maybe Paris was really more of my "home".

I came back expecting to just go into my usual routine of working and spending time with the wonderful friends I'd made. Four days later, I "met" Georges online for the first time, and a few days after that, we met in person. All of a sudden... EVERYTHING changed.

I went from being someone who was still, even 11 months later, "trying Paris on for size", someone who loved it here but who still wasn't ready or willing to put down any real roots... to being someone who now knows that Paris, and France, is going to be my home for the rest of my life, because this is where Georges is. And THAT was definitely unexpected.

I never thought I'd end up with a Frenchman. Sure, OTHER people seemed to think I would, friends or acquaintances who had a romanticized ideal of Frenchmen, but who didn't realize I had some fairly negative experiences with them. So, falling for un vrai Français was the last thing on MY agenda. I thought, if anything, I might like to find another Anglo-expat who loved France as much as I do, and maybe THAT would be enough to cause me to want to stay for good... but at the same time I was already thinking of other options, other places I might like to visit or perhaps live. After all, I was "still single" and I definitely had the wanderlust as well as the means to be flexible in where I live and work, so why not explore the world a bit?

So the biggest surprise of all, of this entire year, was that at the end of it, I find myself in the deepest love I've ever experienced, and planning to build a future with someone in a way that was the furthest thing from my mind.

And yet... I couldn't be happier about having him in my life and the prospects of creating a life with him. I just accept that this is the way it is: HE is the man I want to be with, and he happens to have children, so he's a package deal. I embrace it, and I have no doubts about my ability to handle it, although it will take a lot of adjustments on everyone's part, over time, and I do not want to rush those adjustments. We've only been together a short time, and yes, there are so many unknowns ahead of us, things we have to learn and discover and decide and work out. Yet there is one thing that feels completely certain: France is now "home", because Georges is my home. He needs to be here, so this is where I will be, too. It's just that simple. Nothing more to discuss. And I'm thrilled... I mean, I already LOVE Paris. So this is not a hardship, the idea of building a life here, and with someone I love so much.

As I look back on this year, I am sometimes amazed even at myself, that I finally had the nerve to do this, and then even more amazed at how things turned out. There were things about this year that were sometimes hard, but overall it has been a dream come true and a mainly positive experience. I wouldn't change a single thing.

A friend asked me the other day if I thought I was different since coming to Paris. I had to think about that for a moment, because I felt the answer was both yes, and no. Yes, I am different in the sense that I think I see the world, and my place in it, very differently. I see myself as someone who can now handle anything, who is strong enough to choose a path in life when it is right for me, even if someone else is opposed to it. But in another sense, I do NOT feel that I am "different" because of Paris -- I feel instead that Paris has given me the gift of letting me FINALLY be the REAL me... the me I always felt like I could be, but who I was perhaps suppressing in the face of circumstances or by getting swept up in what other people needed or wanted.

This first year in Paris has not been about "finding" myself, so much as it has been about becoming reacquainted with myself again after many years of "hiding out". I am more myself here in Paris than I have ever been able to be, anywhere. Maybe this is why the right man and the right love has now come into my life... because I AM finally myself.

Now, as I move into Year Two... I am filled with eager anticipation, the kind of anticipation that comes when you have something wonderful to work towards -- and someone to share it with. Last year, my eagerness was all about the novelty of the experiences I was about to have, about discovering new places and maybe new parts of myself, but otherwise everything was vague, open-ended, very "I'll just figure it out as it happens".

This year, there is a direction. There are things I (and We) want to do, and this involves, for me, certain professional goals as well as the personal goals of creating a life with Georges and his kids. A year from now, I may not know exactly what everything will look like, but one thing is clear: I know who I'll be with, and I know where I'll be heading. It's a different kind of feeling, one I don't think I've ever quite experienced, having been living my life in the "make it up as I go along", be-free-at-all-costs mode.

I'll still be that way sometimes: flexible about things, loving spontaneity and variety, and still seeking to be "free". It's just that now, I'm redefining what that looks like. I can still be free in my soul, even while I'm choosing to merge my life with that of another person (or in this case, persons). It's a little scary, sometimes, but mostly... it feels fine and fantastic. It feels right.

It just shows that when you are brave enough to step out of your front door, you never know where you may end up. Oh, what a year it's been.

Another "right place, right time" moment

It was worth getting caught in the sudden shower without a parapluie. How often do you see a complete double rainbow, and over La Tour Eiffel, no less?

Mon Seul Desir

My one year anniversary of moving to Paris is coming up in a couple of weeks -- wow, hard to believe! -- and I was leafing through some photos I've taken in the past but never posted... sort of reliving the year in photos.

This is the "finale" in a series of tapestries hanging in the Cluny Museum, known as "The Lady and the Unicorn". The tapestries are described as being:

"among the most beautiful art treasures of the world. They were woven c.1500, probably in the workshops of Flanders, in the medieval style of mille fleurs, a "thousand flowers." Since 1882 the tapestries have been housed in Paris in the once medieval cloister, the Musée de Cluny. The tapestries represent  the six senses — Hearing, Sight, Touch, Smell, Taste, and Love."

While at the Cluny on the day I took this photo, I was browsing in the museum's gift shop and noticed a small novel entitled The Lady and the Unicorn, written by Tracy Chevalier, the writer of Girl with a Pearl Earring which became a film starring Colin Firth as the great Dutch painter, Vermeer, and Scarlett Johannsen as "the Girl". No one really knows the complete history of these tapestries, and how they came into being, but Chevalier created a very nice story that interweaves known history with some creative hypothesis, especially as pertains to this finale in the tapestry series, where the banner over the Lady's head reads "Mon Seul Desir" - My Only Desire. Who is this Lady? What is her "Only Desire"? Does she desire love? Or something else? No one really knows.

I really enjoyed the book, and learned quite a bit about the "mille fleur" style of tapestry weaving, and how difficult life was for women in that era, how restrictive and limiting were the options for women. If you have a chance, stop by the Cluny (now officially called the Museum of the Middle Ages) and see the tapestries for yourself. If you can't do that, at least get a copy of the book, and enjoy.

And if you happen to be watching any of the Harry Potter movies, pay attention to what is hanging on the walls of the Gryffindor common room. You just might notice something strangely familiar, after seeing this photo.

Something cool I did not know about Paris

The stores on the Champs Elysées are open SUPER late on a Saturday night (and for all I know, maybe other nights as well, it being a major tourist hub).

In a town where most stores close at 7:30 pm or 8pm at the latest, and for someone who is used to being able to hit the mall until 10pm, it's nice to discover, after nearly a year of living here, that there is ONE place in the city I can go if I need a shopping fix. It was fun being able to check out some new makeup and perfumes at Sephora at 11pm after the movie.

So shoppers, if you are here and longing for some late-night shopping -- whether it's makeup, clothing, the latest CDs at Virgin, or even a new sports car at Renault, Peugot or Citroen, I guess this is the place to hang. Just don't expect to get a cheap drink in the WAY overpriced bars right on the Champs -- head down one of the side streets for that.

And any day now they'll be lighting up all the trees with the white holiday lights. It's super touristy, the Champs, but still a lot of fun to be there.

A Weekend in Pari(s)dise

I had forgotten, after not being in a relationship for so long, how being with someone you love can make even the simple things seem so much better. How, even when you are not with the person you love, just knowing he's "out there" somewhere, thinking about you, makes even the time spent apart special. I was at the supermarket the other day, replenishing supplies, and phoned him to find out what brand of bottled water he likes (since he, being French, prefers the fizzy kind, and I take my straight up and plat). We managed to turn THAT into a romantic moment, just by the tone of our voices.

This weekend was a social whirlwind. It started on Friday evening with a surprise birthday party for one of my friends, which I went to on my own (Georges had something else to do). Incidentally, this was the first time the transit strike got in my way, from the over 90 minutes it took me to get across town to the 20th for the party, to the scary moment I had trying to get home at 12:30am when they arbitrarily decided to stop running trains on line 13 (after me and about 30 others had been waiting on the platform for 20 minutes) and I had to sprint through Saint Lazare to line 12, praying there was a train running THERE. (There was. Don't know what would have happened otherwise. Just try and get a taxi at that hour, during a strike.) I had fun at the party, of course, yet really missed him being there with me and wish he could have met my friends, but it could not be avoided, and a little text messaging at odd moments during the party kept us in touch with one another. (The only problem is, I keep wanting to SAVE all these lovely SMSs from Georges, and my phone's memory keeps filling up!)

Saturday, there was the Salon Fermiers to enjoy together (and we found some champagne for a little toast), time spent with some of Georges' friends as they worked on a creative project together... and later watching the rugby finals together on TV, hoping England would win (but alas). Still, when a game gets dull, there are always OTHER things to do with one's amour, as a small compensation, n'est-ce pas?

On Sunday, we attended the baptism of a very special little boy (who was very good in church, and even smiled at the priest during his big moment!), with more champagne and some very good eats, and meeting the friends and family of the proud parents. I had a few really funny "blogger" moments, first when I learned that one of the other guests and I already "knew" of each other through blogging (we said we should have worn our blog names on name tags, it would have saved time!), and later when I found out the hostess' FATHER has been reading my blog as well!

Then there was another slightly unexpected moment where someone actually asked us if we were married, and how/when we met! Of course, for the latter question, we didn't hesitate to confess (we WERE in a church, you know) to having only just met, and on-line, but then we were talking to a blogger, someone who would totally understand.

For two people who just met two weeks ago (tomorrow), this conversation was rather amusing. Did we look like we must have been together a long while? Do we perhaps give off an aura of "coupledom" already? Both of us have been going through our separate daily lives and feeling as if other people can "just tell" something is different about us; is it now so obvious when we're together as well?

We, ourselves, find it difficult to believe we have only known each other for two weeks; that two weeks ago today we were anticipating our first meeting together, when we now feel so completely comfortable in one another's presence. It is wonderful, incroyable, but also rather bizarre, when we stop and reflect on it.

But... it is what it is. You won't hear any complaints from us about it being "too fast". We've accepted it the way it is, and anyway, circumstances are such that, even if we wanted to move forward at a faster pace than this, we really aren't quite at liberty to be totally selfish about it, so it's like the reins being pulled in on a runaway carriage to bring the horses down to a comfortable trot for a while.

Having said that, how could I NOT love a man who would agree to take me to see Becoming Jane (the movie about Jane Austen's life) for our first "movie date" together, instead of something more exciting like the Brad Pitt movie about Jesse James. And he even liked the film well enough, although in fairness I don't think any man can really "get" the significance of Jane Austen and her work from the woman's point of view. In that sense, this was a definite "chick flick".

And yet, he watched it readily, did not fall asleep during it, and even discussed it with me afterward. This is a man in love.

With me. Lucky, happy me.