A vision of Paris during one of my many nocturnal wanderings…
I am living on Rue Saint Saveur, near to Rue Montorgueil, a lovely pedestrian street in the 2nd Arrondissement. These streets speak of a deep history, an experience much like living within the walls of a museum. Often I do not understand these whispers in the air as French remains a language I struggle to decipher, mostly with eager optimism, though there are moments when I feel a bit lost amidst the many French peculiarities, both cultural and verbal.
I have indeed found a beautiful life here, having met many people such as Alexandre and Stephanie, friends of Delphine’s with whom I spend many moments wrapped in conversation (somewhere in the middle of English and French), Beatriz who lives next door, Gaia and Caroline with whom I am sharing a flat, two artists filled with a unique passion for life. And I cannot forget to mention Minka the cat, a most pleasant companion. Paris has become my school, as I spend many hours bicycling along the Seine, willingly lost in the streets of the Marais and St-Germain, studying French, speaking with anyone who will have the patience to listen…most of all this experience has become a lesson in life, as I continue to discover the inner workings of my mind and heart.
I arrived to Paris into a world of art! my Parisien life began with a grand tour of the heart of Paris, through the cobblestones of the Marais, into the natural tranquility of the Luxembourg gardens and the grand presence of the Louvre, my most venerated church of St Eustache…is there any place more beautiful than Paris in the Fall? For the moment there is not. My dearest Delphine was here from Jerusalem and together we admired the new collections at Christie’s followed by lunch at Cafe de Flore, after which I headed to FIAC to see the contemporary work from the many places in the world I have most recently called home. At the Pompidou I spent an afternoon with Giacometti, a most comprehensive insight into his life of art. The tour continues to the Grand Palais with Beatriz, a darling girl from Brazil, where we indulged in Courbet…there remains much more to see, savour and learn as my life in Paris evolves…
“Slowly in the morning, not too quickly in the afternoon”. Such is the pace of life in the Luberon region, the true heart of Provence. My journey began in Lourmarin, one of the most charming villages in this part of the world. There I found a small Provencal market filled with local lavender and handicrafts, a not so small castle, and winding streets in which to lose yourself, which of course I did.
From there I entered Roussillon, a landscape of ochre cliffs in brilliant hues of reds and oranges, illuminated most majestically by the late morning light.
After lunch my tour continued to the 12th-century Cistercian Abbey of Senanque, where a community of monks live in present day.
The final stop was the hilltop village of Gordes where I had a last look at this magestic landscape.
I arrived to Aix-en-Provence in the midst of the rugby chaos, as France was playing against New Zealand in nearby Marseilles. I thought I would be safe in the charming little city of Aix, but it seemed to be most densely populated with fans of this sport I was mildly intrigued with. Had it been tennis I would have most fervently joined in the revelry! It took a few days to settle and find a home, (I will spare the details in between) but soon I was living within this maze of fountains and history, walking the streets of a city where Cézanne spent so many years of his life, drinking cafe au lait in his local haunt, a place where he, Emile Zola and the many artists of their time would disect their ponderings for hours. My mornings were spent in the sunshine, walking through the fruit and vegetable market, followed by the flower market…followed by a stop at a boulangerie for a pain au chocolat…slowly my French was improving as I met locals and found most creative ways to express my thoughts in a language that I am determined to master.
Cézanne’s atelier where he would sit for hours and paint his most revered still life compositions…
Sainte-Victoire mountain in the distance…a place Cézanne would often seek refuge and inspiration.
I was eager to reach Aix-en-Provence, a place I would call home, at least for a week. This is where my french lessons would commence. On the way I stopped in Nice, on the Cote d’Azur, for a visit to the museum of a most revered artist of the South of France, Marc Chagall. A lunch of fine art and french wine, two things I value dearly in life.
