castle hopping

Living in Paris makes it difficult to travel almost anywhere and feel entranced by the ambiance. Unless you are visiting a city centered around a hilltop castle, where the air takes on a whole other ‘palatial’ feel. Ah yes, Edinburgh! I had been once before, during those days as a student in London in which I remember very little other than how enchanted I had been by the grandness of it all. 

It was at the Edinburgh Castle that I reunited with a few of my oldest and dearest friends, atop the volcanic Castle Rock where our castle hopping adventure began. 

Many glasses of whisky and plates of haggies, nips and tatties later, our adventures continued in Stirling. The scene was set for a grand wedding (this being the reason we all arrived to Scotland in the first place). This medieval town, the former “Gateway to the Highlands”, sits below a fortress and an old-town, timeless in it’s own right. 

Prior to Brandy’s ‘crowning’, several Scottish Kings and Queens have been crowned at Stirling Castle, including Mary, Queen of Scots, in 1543. Don’t we all wish to be crowned Queen, at least for a day?

The royal wedding party, or part of it anyway. Paris, London, Istanbul and NYC unite!

Now back to normal life in Paris.

the sexy city

I lived in NYC for 12 years, though barely can I consider the life I led to be that of Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda or Samantha of Sex and the City, contrary to what anyone might believe, my Italian included. Perhaps a mix of Carrie and Charlotte on the best of days? Though Miranda, with her pioneering spirit lived only a block away from me in the Lower East Side, in the film that is. And don’t we all fantasize about  Samantha’s escapades, even just a little? I must admit, I did enjoy living vicariously through these stories while living my own more tame versions, all the while never succumbing to carousing the NYC streets in a pair of Louboutins. I’m proud of that, I might add.

Where Carrie’s love story concluded in the first film, my story began. Thus, Love in the City of Lights was born. 

Now, as Sex and the City 2 is due to premiere in Paris, I am curious to follow these ladies on their adventures continue. I cannot even begin to imagine how the story unfolds, this uniquely tangled web of love, lust and laughter, perhaps proving yet again that friendship (if nothing else) is forever. It appears that the entire world is curious as well. Here in Paris the ‘hot-spot’ Café Etienne Marcel (34 rue Etienne Marcel, in the 2nd) has been transformed into an even more sultry ‘Café Sex and the City’. I could hardly believe it! Are Parisians such die-hard fans of this fab four? And do they really believe that is how we women live in NYC? Perhaps that’s why most Parisian girls (or any girls for that matter) swoon when I mention NYC. Ah yes, the stories I could tell…

What really provoked my interest to venture to this cafe was not the NYC-style cosmopolitans and the trendy ambiance, but three of my favorite ex-pat authors. WH Smith, the English language bookstore in Paris, haven to many fellow ex-pats, was recently hosting an event as part of the launch of Sex and the City 2, creating their own ‘Foodies in Naughty Paris’ event. 

I was excited and honored to meet this trio, David Lebovitz, Alexander Lobrano, and Heather Stimmler-Hall, all in one room, with books to sign and stories to tell, and at such a ‘sexy’ venue! Ex-pat writers who followed their own unique paths, stars of their own Parisian dramas, in David Lebovitz’s case, often a comedy. I was hesitant to buy any more guide books on Paris as I regularly read these authors websites, and still have many Paris themed books at home yet to peruse, but I could not resist. Especially after speaking with each author and getting to know them on a more personal level. 

My growing collection of books now includes David’s heartfelt and humorous tales in The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World’s Most Glorious – and Perplexing – City, Alexander’s thorough guide to tastefully eating his way through this delicious city in Hungry for Paris: The Ultimate Guide to the City’s 102 Best Restaurants, and a ‘reference’ book every woman must own, Heather’s Naughty Paris: A Lady’s Guide to the Sexy City. 

As soon as I can put the books down and take a break from my own romantic escapades, I will venture to the cinema for a rendezvous with the NYC gals.

a world of artists

I love living in the Marais. Not simply because of the designer boutiques and trendy bistros on every cobbled corner, or the multitude of galleries exhibiting art from around the world. The ambiance of the Marais is unique. It’s one of the most historic neighborhoods of Paris, encompassing the 3rd and 4th arrondissements of the right bank. I can easily spend many a late afternoon carousing the streets, joining the masses at a random art opening and ending the evening with a glass of red wine upon a cafe terrasse. 

Most of all I love the many hidden courtyards of the Marais, revealing enchanting worlds, such as Village Saint Paul. Today I discovered another one, one which spoke of art. Our afternoon was spent in search of artists part of Nomades 2010, a parcours culturel et artistique du 3eme, taking place all weekend in the Marais. We followed our feelings, with an event map in hand, and there it was, a hideaway of artists and ateliers, la Cité Dupetit Thouars. I was in heaven!

How had I not found this bohemian paradise amidst the land of the bobo’s sooner? We walked in and out of ateliers, meeting artists, learning of their trade, feeling inspired by the these talented few who followed their dreams and ended up sharing them with those who took the time to find them.

What a privileged insight into the lives of artists! We first met a carpenter who designs furniture from all types of wood, creating what I tend to call ‘functional art’. Patricia was hidden behind a mountain of tools and wood, barely could we find her. I’m certain I will return one day to commission a coffee table. 

The next character we met was Yves Prince, a true artist in the traditional sense. He has had many a woman pose in his studio, as is evident by the wall of nudes hanging in his atelier. In his warm and welcoming manner he was proud too, to show us the many film posters he has designed, impressive! 

Fashion is often considered art. Here we found one such fashion artist, Gwen van den Eijnde, sharing his unique and magical world of fabric and form. 

One of the most inspiring artists we met was Michele Adrien, a framer. Not at all the typical framer you would find to simply beautify your artwork, her frames exhibit a work of art in themselves. She uses the endless resources of her conceptual and creative mind (plus, she was once a mathematician so her measurements are exact), to complement the art in question, using materials such as lead, glass, foam, wood, copper, even a milk carton. My engineer is now convinced that he too will become an artist. 

Never again will I pass this little street in the Marais, la Cité Dupetit Thouars, without smiling at the unique world of artists existing behind each unassuming door. 

For the creative souls living in Paris, there are several morning and evening courses in painting/design/sculpture offered within one of these hidden ateliers: www.terre-et-feu.com

passion for travel

There are certain passions or interests, that bond people. Whether it be friends, companions, or those you choose to share your life with. One such passion (the word ‘interest’ simply does not fit here), is my love for travel.

Some of my dearest friends share this passion, leading us to have collected quite an array of travel stories through the years, which we reminisce and laugh about as often as possible. (Beware those not part of the travel clique!) One such story begins in Amsterdam on the eve of the millenium and ends in a castle in Scotland just last week…

Since my first trip to Poland at the age of 2, before my lips could properly utter sentences in either Polish or English, my eyes became larger and more curious. For this I thank my parents. I became fascinated with foreign tastes and sounds, even those as simple as wild strawberries from my grandmother’s garden, and certain vegetables I still can’t find anywhere else in the world. I began to love the energy of movement, being able to play with time, as you pass from one time zone to another. As a child, and even up until a few years ago, I dared not sleep en route, in order to savour the sacred anticipation prior to arrival or reflection upon departure. Now I am more than happy to sleep and wake up rested. (Older or simply wiser?)

When I first met my Italian, aside from the short and sweet exchange that caused a lengthy conversation to ensue (it wasn’t simply his sexy accent that did the trick), we spoke all about travel. As fate would have it, during my around-the-world trip I had spent a memorable 5 days in the village of his birth, Monterosso, and was very pleased to express my enthusiasm for this ‘paradise found’. This village has since become my second home. It was in fact his sense of adventure, having arrived to NYC for a holiday, that led our paths to cross. It was not yet our time during my stay in Monterosso. Yes, patience is a virtue.

Our most memorable (and first) trip to date was Corsica last June. We explored the southern region of this enchanted island, also known as the Île de Beauté. A perfect mix of natural wilderness in the form of uninhabited beaches and needle-shaped mountains. Most spectacular was Bonifacio with it’s majestic cliffs and old town overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Surely a place in which to lose yourself in a myriad of natural landscapes. The dream of Corsica shall soon continue as we are planning to explore the northern region this summer.

Along with this passion for travel which has surely bonded us, comes our affinity for foreign foods, natural beauty, ancient history (more him) and various forms of art (more me). Am I missing anything?

melancholic air

I often feel like an optimist living in a world of pessimists. In other words, an ex-pat living in Paris. At first, and even second glance, Parisians do not appear a happy bunch. They rarely smile or laugh and formality is evident in their manner of speech and body language. Is this attitude contagious? Will I become more serious and less smiley in time?

What is the reason behind this seemingly grim outlook on life? Perhaps this pensive look is a facade, meant to imply depth and intelligence. The French highly value knowledge and like to question almost anything. And anyone, for that matter. This is all in high contrast to the ‘light and happy’ approach to life Americans are known to possess. (I tend to live somewhere inbetween.)

The French are lucky, given the expansive healthcare system and 35-hour work week, not to mention the haute cuisine, enchanting landscapes…I could go on. France is a country often rated number one in terms of ‘Quality of Life’. There is no reason not to feel the joie de vivre. Unless there is a secret I have not been privy to. 

Perhaps we can blame the weather for this ‘melancholic air’. It’s currently Spring and the temperature rarely exceeds 60 degrees fahrenheit. More often than not, the sky is filled with clouds releasing torrents of rain. I can sulk beneath the varying shades of gray, spend late afternoons at a local cafe plotting a protest, or debating Carla Bruni-Sarkozy’s socio-political role in French affairs. Or any number of philosophical musings.

Or I can continue to search for that and those which make me smile. And simply enjoy what is. Aware that after the rain the sun will shine, and I might even catch a glimpse of a rainbow.


love in a day

Today marks my anniversary of love. Not the day I met this handsome man so serendipitously on the street, nor the day I arrived to Paris to begin this grand adventure, but the day somewhere inbetween when we both knew our childhood dreams of love had finally been realized. I remember it all so well. The soundtrack to these defining days includes the Cinderella Opera at Lincoln Center followed by a live performance by my most revered blues singer Etta James. At Last! Can it get any more romantic than that? Most of all I remember the words spoken and the feelings shared. The promise of forever, a word that should never be taken lightly, nor ever taken for granted. 

I think about all the days leading towards this one. The act of falling in love, the many  steps along the way, most taken without hesitation or looking back. When something, in the form of someone, feels so natural it is impossible to walk away. In my experience, as the romantic that I am, you must simply allow yourself to be taken, confidant that the who is much more relevant than the how, where and why. The when becomes the day you look back upon and smile, knowing there was no other path.

Love cannot be summed up in a day, or even in a lifetime. Each day should be uniquely cherished and celebrated. How the years will unfold remains a mystery, which days will stand apart from others, making their mark upon the calendar of our lives. Regardless, May 7th will always be our day.

Everyone has their own unique story. Some have yet to experience it (my advice: enjoy the journey until that day finds you). For those willing to tell, which day most symbolizes love for you? (No, Valentine’s Day does not count.)

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