The Dream Life

October 29, 2010

Moving abroad and creating a home in a foreign land (or even a new city for that matter) is by all accounts an overwhelming experience. Finding a place for yourself, new friends, a job which often means a new career, all leading to what is called a life. In so doing, there is often much time to reflect. To think about what it is exactly that you want to do in this new life, what you want to create for yourself, and what is even possible. Not to mention, what will bring you fulfillment. Within the space of an odd and curious new world, you are forced to examine yourself more closely.

In so doing, I find it enabling and empowering that we can recreate ourselves as who we believe we are, rather than who we have been labeled to be in our past lives. The possibilities are endless!

I won’t get into my personal history, how little I cared for cliques in high school, and never opted to be part of a fraternity in college, always seeking my own path, accepting not to fit in, whatever that means in American standards, white picket fence and all. And how happy I am for doing so.

I can very well say that I have pursued and continue to pursue my dreams. Certainly not without difficulty. A little language barrier can’t stop you, can it? Nor can all those voices of reason. Hence my decision to travel the world and move to Paris.

In the past, most often led by the adult, I achieved both success and fulfillment working in advertising (one of my long-time professional dreams) and will continue to do so, though Paris is a long way from Madison Avenue.

Sometimes in the pursuit of dreams, it’s important to ignore the adult and pay attention to the child. Who were you before you were told who you should be?

I discovered my child a few years ago, very fittingly, in the home of my youth, while hand-printing canvas and constructing a bag from it, creating what I call wearable art. The dietz bag was born and thus began my life as a designer, combining my love for art, design and fashion, led by inspiration from my mom. More on that later. (Incidentally, my other dream of writing comes from my dad.)

Along this journey I have met many fellow expats and non-expats living what they consider their dreams, having chosen to follow their hearts and/or instincts. In the next several months I will share their stories and hope to learn of others. Many of these people I am pleased to consider my friends.

This leads to my query. Are you pursuing your dreams? If so, do tell! If not, what are they? Take a moment to think. And if need be, pack up and start again. Figuratively if not literally.

tour du chocolat

October 25, 2010

One of my great loves is chocolate. As a child I would eat nestle crunch bars by the dozen and have since moved on to more sophisticated international chocolates (ie. jars of nutella). Thankfully I have been blessed with a fast metabolism. Though I must admit that I consume chocolate in small (daily) doses, and indulge in mostly dark varieties, having rationalized those as the most healthy.

When a friend proposed a chocolate tour I was initially reluctant. Could I not eat my way through Paris’ chocolatiers without a guide? Surely! But my curiosity kicked in and I thought a tour could be fun, especially one involving friends and lots of French chocolate. I might even learn a thing of two.

The Chocolate Walk began at the Louvre, once home to Louis XIII. It was there that liquid chocolate was first given as a gift to King Louis in 1615 from Anne of Austria. That began the French love affair with chocolate. The first chocolate shop was strategically located around the corner, at what is now a restaurant on rue de l’Arbre Sec.

In addition to being enlightened on the many scandals that took place behind royal doors, I learned that hot chocolate was a delicacy, drunk only by the royalty. In the beginning of the 18th century the chocolate was mixed with milk (rather than water and spices), and there were questions raised as to its purpose. Food, drink, medicine or love potion? (The latter, bien sûr!)

We continued along the right bank, stopping in select chocolatiers. I promised my tour guide I would not give away all of her dark secrets, but will share my two favorite chocolate shops and the crème de la crème of chocolates from each.

There are three Côte de France in Paris. This one was on 25 Avenue de l’Opera, and yes, I did feel like I had entered the royal hall of chocolate. Surrounded by the look and smell, I could barely pay attention to the explanations of the many chocolate varieties. I was ready and eager to taste!

Before the tasting begins, a quick lesson in French chocolate. There are two distinguished types: praliné, which consists of roasted nuts (most commonly almonds), and ganache, chocolate mixed with cream, originally called ‘Idiots chocolate’ as it was made by accident. Imagine?

Here we tried one of the signature chocolates, praliné mixed with small pieced of crushed cookie. Strong, dark and rich. Does is get much better?

Michel Cluizel, on 201 rue Saint Honoré, is another must in the gourmet world of French chocolate.

It was the praliné des aïeux, a mixture of grilled almonds and hazelnuts covered in dark chocolate, that left me wondering if this is what heaven might taste like. Pure decadence!

For those gourmands equally as enamored with chocolate, this week (Oct 28-Nov 1) marks the annual Salon du Chocolat. I will soon find out just how many hours can be spent tasting chocolate…

If you crave more sweet stories, check out friend and fellow chocoholic Amy, aka Sweet Freak.

history vs modernity

October 20, 2010

While the Italians were in town we took them to Versailles. Just in case they weren’t thoroughly impressed from day one in Paris.

As excited as they were to visit this 17th Century Château, I was equally excited to view the current Murakami exhibit, a source of controversy since its inception in mid-September. I was determined to find all 22 works by Takashi Murakami, including the 11 created specifically for the show, and to discover what all the hype was about. All this while enjoying the splendor of Versailles, which I had previously visited as a student, back in the days when art was confined to museums and galleries.

My first impression was disdain as I felt too distracted by the art to pay much attention to the grandeur of the architecture. That quickly turned to child-like curiosity, as I entered each ornately decorated room, eager to discover which brightly-coloured creatures lurked behind the corner.

It was the unique contrast in the Baroque setting and the art that held my interest.

During this tour, I wondered to myself what exactly was the motivation for France to curate such a show? Setting the precedent with Jeff Koons’ exhibit in 2008, were they attempting to position themselves as provocateurs in the art world? Or perhaps this is all a political ploy to strengthen relations between France and Japan. Whatever the reason, I was throughly entertained and enjoyed it more than not. The Italians thought it amusing but lacked my enthusiasm. The French tourists, upon over-hearing several conversations, were deeply dismayed. (Right-wingers no doubt.)

The final room held no 17th Century distractions, merely smiley flowers to lighten the mood.

For those confused about how modernity can find a home within the walls of history (myself included), Curator Laurent Le Bon offers a little clarity, “The unique experience seeks above all to spark a reflection of the contemporary nature of our monuments and indispensable need to create out own era.”

Still confused? In this video which takes you on a tour of the exhibition, Murakami explains his reasoning behind working so diligently to create his manga universe at Versailles. What I found interesting is how he defines space in France versus Japan, two very disparate cultures. “In France you have this tradition to conquer and manage space and to represent it in three dimensions. In Japan, there is this tradition to flatten out reality to take a real three dimensional space and transform it into two dimensions.” Another interesting note, Murakami considers his work somewhat like origami which can be manipulated in various ways. I would have to agree.

The grand finale in the exhibition is the Oval Buddha in the garden. Very grand and very gold. If you have not yet experienced the controversy, the show is up until December 12, 2010. Well worth it!

Still, I am left to wonder, should modern art find a home in history?

Paris in a day

October 17, 2010

Is it possible to see Paris in a day? No, but we were determined to see as much as we could. The Italians were coming (my Italian’s family that is) and we had only three days to introduce them to the city we call home. Their first visit. Their first flight. And so many more firsts (little did they know!)

The best, most relaxing (not to mention romantic) way to tour Paris is by boat. More precisely, the Batobus. Unlimited transportation for the day, stopping at eight destinations, at a mere 13 euro (a Privilege fee of 9 euro if you hold a Pass Navigo). I have often seen this vehicle coasting up and down the Seine, transporting an array of international tourists to it’s various stops. Now it was time to become one of them. And happily so! I hope to never stop viewing Paris with the eyes of a tourist.

It was a gorgeous sunny day. In other words, Perfect ‘fall in love with Paris’ weather. We boarded the boat at Hôtel de Ville, Paris’ City Hall. From there we headed along the Seine, first stop Eiffel Tower.

What could be more spectacular than the view of Paris from a height of nearly 1,000 feet?

From there we walked through the Parc du Champ de Mars, dined in a nearby bistro and resumed our tour by boat. Next stop the Jardin des Tuileries beneath a clear blue sky. Magical.

And yes, the Louvre. A quick stop to admire the architecture. The masterpieces would have to wait.

Back on the boat to enjoy the views of my favorite part of Paris, and one of the oldest, île de la Cité.

This island is the home of Notre Dame and here we disembarked as the sun was getting ready to set.

Much more of Paris remained to be seen in the two days ahead. The next tour would be by subway and foot. As we had suspected, the Italians were enamored. Wait until they discovered Versailles…

the journey of letting go

October 12, 2010

Bindu Wiles asked me to be a contributing writer as part of The Shed Project, an effort in cleansing your life and living minimally, to say the least. Having packed one bag to travel the world for over one year, and later moving from NYC to Paris, I have learned to let go and the journey that comes with it. (Thank you Bindu! And good luck to fellow Shedventurers.)

The Journey of Letting Go

I always found great comfort in my stuff, even as a child. Things that remind me of a person or a place. Things that, to me, hold emotional value. Notes, ticket stubs, a drawing on a napkin, a love letter scribbled in haste, a valentine’s day card from my father. I think of these as sacred pieces of a puzzle that compose my life.

As I got older I became more selective with my mementos. Living in close quarters in NYC played a major role. As did the accumulation of stuff. Closets filled with fabrics for clothes I never had the time to make and store bought clothes I never had the occasion to wear. Shelves filled with books I had not yet read but surely would one day. And all the hidden spaces containing mementos I had collected throughout the years.

I often thought if I had to evacute my apartment in an emergency what would I take? Surely my 7 photo albums and 11 hand-written journals. And that huge box of memories I’d been saving since the 8th grade. These were all pieces of my past. But how was I supposed to grow and become by holding on to them? And weren’t they all part of me anyway, even without their physical presence? Thankfully, I never had to flee my apartment.

As the years went by, I began to feel more encumbered by my stuff. Yet I could not let go of it. I had very skillfully attached sentimental value to each and every item. I remembered the moment I bought it, or who had given it to me and for what occasion.

I felt weighed down by my possessions and dreamt of feeling light and unencumbered. This was one of my motivations for throwing away a quarter of my belongings, packing a bag and hitting the open road. One year of travel taught me just how little you really need. And how empowering is the detachment from stuff. I was reminded again and again how much more important people and places are, and space in which to create new memories.

Post travels I returned to NYC and was reunited with my stuff. The two thirds that remained. Was I happy to see it all again? Not really. I hadn’t missed it and not once did I feel like traveling back into my history to dig out a past memory. I had created too many new ones.

The greatest lesson in letting go of stuff came when I fell in love. I was moving to Paris to begin a new life. Again, it was time to pack, not simply for one year but quite possibly, forever. I was forced to open each box of memories I had been saving, even those momentos from my travels, to revisit my life and for the most part, let it go.

I sorted through the bulk of my possessions, mostly clothes and books, with a trusted friend. Someone emotionally detached from my past. Two-thirds of my wardrobe ended up in a mountainous heap on the floor, ready for the taking. I could not bare to throw these once relevant pieces of my life away. Instead, I gave them to friends, neighbors and those in need, free to create memories of their own.

In terms of my most personal stuff, many long nights were spent living in the past, confronting chapters of my life I had not thought about in years. Filled with nostalgia, I reflecting on the life I had created and all the momentos that were left as a result. I very carefully selected keepsakes and placed them in a box titled ‘my past’. Well aware that irrelevant of what I discarded or stored, these memories will always remain a part of my life. This process of letting go of so many chapters of my personal history resulted in a feeling of freedom I had only briefly encountered during my travels.

A few of my most revered remembrances, the scrap book composed from my travels, my most recent journal, an envelope of childhood photos, I put aside. They would join me in Paris.

I left NYC with two suitcases, and never looked back.

nuit blanche 2010

October 6, 2010

Nuit Blanche is one of my favorite nights in Paris. My first was last year and immediately I became a fan of this night of organized creative chaos. The city comes to frenetic life from dusk until dawn. Around every corner an art installation waits to be discovered, in churches, hospitals, gardens…virtually everywhere. My favorite exhibits are often those found by accident, such as the image of a person sleeping, found in a boutique in the Marais, a light installation by Frédérique Chauveau.