Paris: year one

One year ago I left everything and everyone that had composed my life for nearly 12 years, and moved from NYC to Paris. I remember the moments leading to this day so well. The great anticipation mixed with nostalgia. The fear outweighed by excitement. I never once doubted or questioned my decision, and one year later I feel even more confident having followed my heart. 

The journey has been an insightful and often difficult one. As anyone living an expat life well knows, in Paris or anywhere. (I will refrain from getting into details, but oh the stories I could tell…) 

Here are my top 10 ‘rules to live by’, based on what I have learned thus far. In no particular order.

1. let go of expectations (or prepare to be disappointed)

2. learn humility (perhaps the most important lesson of all)

3. follow your instincts (trust yourself completely)

4. laugh at yourself whenever possible (otherwise you might cry)

5. learn the language to know the people and culture (still working on that…)

6. indulge guilt-free in the pleasure of local food and drink (without over-indulging)

7. take time to discover yourself (outside the context of work)

8. don’t be driven solely by the ego (period.)

9. appreciate the simple pleasures (never take them for granted)

10. follow your dreams (and believe in them)

summer stillness

My first August in Paris. Without the Parisians. Without the comforts of local boulangeries and bistros. Equally, without the discomforts of cafes overflowing with locals. Most of my neigborhood haunts are closed, as are most well regarded restaurants. The owners have resigned to their annual month long holiday. Hard to believe for someone coming from the USA, where to close, even for a long weekend, would mean to lose business, which would inevitably lead to demise. Not so in Paris. Perhaps these frequented spots know their value too well. They know their customer will return, as they do every year come September when the city breathes life again.

These days the streets are filled with international faces and sounds, a melody of English mixed with Spanish and Italian, among others. My place has become somewhere in between these curious tourists and the confidant locals who remain. Many of whom spend long afternoons upon the sandy shores of the Seine called Paris Plage, lasting until August 20th. Not a bad option for a sunny day.

This time is ideal to appreciate all the luxuries, both food related and other, that can easily be taken for granted. It is a time for stillness and reflection. James Morgan so well articulates the feeling of August in Paris in The Longest Sunday, ‘Coffee, Bach, the newspaper, brunch, a walk in the park, the knowledge that no one else is working—what could be better than that?’ Absolutely nothing.

There exist many activities to quiet the mind, far away from the toil of the tourists. Visits to hidden gardens, antique markets and museums, those often walked by but never entered. Now is the time. One of my favorite August activities is the pique-nique. A simple recipe. Close friends, often mixed with a few new ones. A carefully chosen selection of cheeses and fruit, a good bottle of wine and a glorious sunset. 

Maybe one day I too will dream beneath another summer horizon, but until then I will enjoy this one.

the laughing man

His laughter was contagious. There was rarely anything even to laugh about, yet he laughed often and with great sincerity. This was the way with Mudarta, since the moment I met him and stepped into his taxi in Bali.

He appeared like most taxi drivers, friendly and  filled with small talk that seems almost formulaic. Yet Mudarta was special. His warmth filled the space completely, and his laughter provoked an immediate smile. His philosophies on life were profound and plenty. I chose to be a disciple of this discerning man.

Mudarta was deeply spiritual. He often paid tribute to the Balinese gods by partaking in traditional dances. His days were spent working in a hotel and his nights on the road. Several years earlier he had chosen a wife, based upon the simple formula of shared affection and compatibility. Together they raised a child, little Regi, who accompanied his father on our prophetic journey, quietly listening to the wise discourse, smiling with his eyes.

It was that day in his taxi, winding through rice fields, into a village of wood carvings and wild herons, up into the scenic heights overlooking an active volcano, into the thoughts and teachings of a simple, happy man, that I experienced great peace. 

I often think of Mudarta, this modest man and the melody of his laughter. And always, I smile.

This post has been entered into the Grantourismo and HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition. (Mudarta is one of the favorite people I met on my journey around the world. We still keep in touch.)

the journey inwards

In lieu of the film Eat, Pray, Love which opens today in the US (and soon in Paris I hope), I have been reading a lot of travel related blogs and stories. This film (as 99.9% of the modern world knows) is based on the best-selling book by Elizabeth Gilbert in which, seeking emotional solace, she spends 4 months in Italy eating, 4 months in India praying, and 4 months in Bali resulting in love. I often, and more so these days, reflect upon my own journey, in which I spent 13 months traveling the world, Italy, India and Bali included. During my travels, I read and mostly enjoyed the tales of Eat, Pray, Love, even though mine was a very different story. I ate nearly everything, prayed often, and yes, I did experience love. The most important love affair of all. 

The Journey Inwards

The best investment I made in my life was not my education, which taught me the necessity for discipline and hard work, nor was it the purchase of my apartment, which ingrained in me a deeper sense of responsibility, and it was surely not my rare acquisition of a vintage bag or designer chair. It was the journey within myself, one year spent traveling around the world.

There is nothing so beautiful and equally frightful, as complete freedom. Time which is yours to fill as you desire. There exists no agenda other than to experience life in it’s many unfamiliar tastes, smells and sights. Every day unfolds into a unique composition, captured forever by the mind.

My journey began in the cobbled streets of Buenos Aires, where the heart beats in tango rhythm, to Fernando de Noronha, one of many paradises found, a secluded island off of Brazil’s Bahian coast, to the ancient civilization of Machu Picchu. I have redefined what exist for me as the wonders of the world. And this was only the beginning of what I consider to be my greatest love affair, with the world as my suitor.

The following months found me sky-diving amidst the majestic mountainscape of New Zealand, exploring the limestone formations along Great Ocean Road, completely taken with the natural wonders that became the background of my life. My mind’s eye is rich with visions from these days in which so many lives were lived.

My most profound moments were experienced in the land of color and contrasts, India. It is here that the heart reigns, amidst the urban toil and drudgery of Mumbai, into the grandeur of the pink, gold and blue cities of Rajasthan. This land speaks of an intricate past and a blossoming modernity, unequivocally captivating and nourishing the soul.

Southeast Asia became a history lesson as much as a gastronomic exploration, amidst the floating villages and ancient temples of Siem Reap. In Vietnam I tasted an endless variety of noodles and rice dishes to satisfy the most curious of palates. Within the limestone formations of Halong Bay I experienced the grandest sunset that lit the sky in hues of red. The island of Bali became one of my most revered homes. It was here that I so deeply appreciated the simplest of pleasures; food, shelter, and what becomes the most valued to a traveler, the kindness of strangers.

Inbetween my enlightened city tours of a frenetic and evolving China beginning in Shanghai, I stepped upon the sacred soil named Tibet. The chanting of monks accompanied me into the vast open space of snow-capped mountains and serene lakes. I was living within a dream, perhaps the most vivid and surreal of all. Or was it the other-worldliness of Japan.

Europe began my chapter of friends and family. Aside from intermittently traveling with a trusted friend, I often met with acquaintances, some from the life I left behind and others which I had collected along the way. I was often alone and did my best to enjoy this time. Loneliness is a common symptom of solo traveling, resulting in strength, understanding and greater reliance in the self. 

I felt undeniably fortunate to experience the lives of my friends who had created homes in remote parts of the world, beginning with the turquoise waters of the Aegean in the coastal town of Bodrum. In Turkey I also experienced Cappadocia, another great wonder of the world. I entered and exited these scenes as though they were pieces of my own life, digesting each cultural nuance and idiosyncracy. With my family In Poland I found refuge in the woods of Bykowce, a place where I spent so much of my childhood. Time to digest and reflect upon the pages that were written and the many lessons learned through my resignation to life as a traveler.

My final weeks were spent immersed in the majestic urbanism of Mexico City. I was satiated with visions of ruins that spoke of a rich history. I found my last refuge upon the deserted shores of the Yucatan. The most simple of paradises was Tulum. It was here, beneath the reflection of a star filled sky that it occurred to me that this journey was as much an exploration of the world as of myself.

sharing the {blog} love

It is almost one year since I began a life of love in Paris, and Love in the City of Lights was born. What a journey it has been! Little did I know what I would learn and who I would encounter along the way, and all the friends I would make in between.

Through the experience of sharing my life with fellow expats and even a few hopeful romantics, I have come to know Paris, its culture and its people more intimately. I still struggle to understand (and accept) the many French cultural nuances, but I feel much more at home and much less an outsider. For these fellow bloggers (and many others not mentioned), and my dear readers, I am very grateful. I share this love with fellow bloggers, francophiles around the world, and Paris expats.

One of my first virtual friendships was with Andi of Misadventures with Andi, who blogs about many of my favorite subjects including travel, culture, love and of course Paris, always keeping the conversation varied and interesting. I hope to meet in person on her next trip to Paris! 

On the topic of life in Paris, so many I love! Beth Arnold I have come to know and admire for her sophisticated and unprecedented Letter From Paris. Lindsey, of Lost in Cheeseland shares many an anecdote on life as an expat, often with humor and always with candor. For the latest in goings on in the City of Lights, Kim inspires with I Heart Paris. Many secrets and cultural happenings are revealed by Heather in Secrets of Paris. The stories and visual poetry by Nichole of little brown pen, living between Paris and NJ, always cause me to feel lucky to live surrounded by so much beauty. Though many don’t realize it until living here, Paris is indeed imperfect and Sion brings this to light in Paris (Im)perfect. Marjorie, who is neither French nor has ever lived in France, writes my inner French girl, describing the French art of living. That undeniable je ne sais quoi that is so inherently French!

Of the mommy club which I am not yet a part, but have several expat friends who are, Barbara writes a very real and witty blog about the experience of living and raising children in a foreign country in International Mama. As a super Mama and freelance writer, she also writes The Expat Freelancer to help expat writers find their voice and use it. Another saavy American mama with many a story to tell to aspiring expat mothers is La Mom.

On the topic of food, everyone knows (or should know) David Lebovitz for his appetizing site about all things food related and author of The Sweet Life. I met David at a sexy book signing and hope to cross paths again over crepes at Breizh Cafe. For those with a sweet tooth, Cat, otherwise known as Little Miss Cupcake, creates the most delectable cupcakes! About where and what to eat (as the amount of dining options can be daunting) a wonderful new site recently launched, aptly titled Paris By Mouth. Food porn anyone? Through a good friend I met Cynthia, a writer and adventurous foodie from LA who writes about exactly that in Adventure Eating. All that eating but where to drink? Forest keeps a detailed account of the tastiest cocktails and happiest happy hours in 52 Martinis. 

On the topic of travel, one of my favorites, there’s a blog I simply love which bridges the gap between France and Italy, both of which I now consider my homes. Robin, a travel consultant and writer with great travel taste, captures the essence of two of the most beautiful countries in My Melange. I am also a fervent follower of the travels of  Granturismo, Lara and Terence, as they travel for 12 months in 24 destinations. Instant nostalgia for my 2007 travels, 13 months in 32 destinations.

New York City will always remain home to me (considering I now have 3, and counting). To keep myself connected to this dynamic city I begin my mornings with a café creme and a cup of Jo, much loved blog by fashionista and new mommy, Joanna Goddard. There are many more NYC blogs I read, including the inspiring and design saavy my turtleneck by Catherine Mangosing of Brooklyn.

I’m looking forward to discovering many more blogs, meeting many more bloggers and fellow expats, and continued adventures and musings on life and love in Paris in year two!

visions of Tuscany

We made our way from Pisa to Volterra in the late afternoon sun, destination unknown. At least to me. The element of suspense is equally unsettling and thrilling, I focused on the latter. Driving along a tangle of dirt roads we approached a house set upon a landscape of olive trees and rolling hills. Immediately I exclaimed ‘Wow, it’s my dream to stay in a place like this!’ ‘Do you think to be a princess?’, replied my Italian with a smile. (Did I really need to answer that?) It was my birthday after all. Needless to say, this agriturismo Podere San Lorenzo, a vision of Tuscany, became home.

For the next few days I was indeed a princess. Tuscan menus tasting of truffles, trips to nearby San Gimignano, drives in the Chianti region…(Aside from my actual birthday in which the weather gods were seeking vengeance, but let’s focus on the visions contributing to the fairytale.)

As far as birthdays go, this is one I will always cherish. And not simply for the landscapes.

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