reason to celebrate

Is there ever not a reason to celebrate? These days, learning to conjugate an irregular verb is reason enough. Life is so much about the small victories, and those occur daily. If we pay attention to them.

At present we have even more reason to celebrate than my pending fluency in French. My Italian has officially become French. In regards to his working status that is. (Once an Italian always an Italian!)

My arrival to Paris contained only one certainty. The who (I had chosen to share my life with), not the what (I would do) and where (we would live). Though we both had hoped Paris would become our home. Over time (I won’t get into just how long this process took), my Italian pursued this option, since I was (mostly) happy in Paris and he loved the city from day one. If all went accordingly, we would not be packing our bags to move to Milan for January 1st. Love in the City of Fashion?

And here we are. 18 months into our love story, and 6 months away from our wedding, finally calling Paris our home. Though we do have moments in which we desire to run off to Vietnam for a 2 year stint, or perhaps a Greek island in the Cyclades. Even Rome sounds like an adventure. Oh, the possibilities! And yes, there are many. But for the unforeseeable future, this will remain our vista.

As we do every evening in French tradition, raise a glass and celebrate! What are you celebrating?

Paris in a day

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…

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.

Life in Paris : Top 10

It is nearly 6 months that I am living a life of love (and miscellaneous other sentiments, depending on the day), in the most romantic city in the world, Paris! Not to mention with the most passionate of men, an Italian. (No offense to all others nationalities of the world, most of which I think very highly of, but I must be partial). 

As any ex-pat who has lived in Paris knows very well, living in a uniquely French culture is no easy task. These days the French are even asking themselves ‘What does it mean to be French?’ Hence, is there even a place for the culturally curious like myself? Being raised by a Polish mother and an American father (a Francophile I might add), I always understood and accepted culture to be a mysterious and stimulating mélange. Having grown up mostly in the USA, a country composed of immigrants, this is what I was taught is acceptable, also considering I never chose to fit in, in the first place. In hindsight, the ‘American Dream’ was never mine. (Hmmm, does a white picket fence exist in the South of France?)

Rather than begin the debate ‘Can an ex-pat ever be considered French’, or a long list of what I miss about my life in NYC (so many simple pleasures filled my 12 years…), versus the many difficulties I face in France, I will focus on what I LOVE about Paris. In an attempt to increase my awareness about this city and to miss home a little less.

My top 10, in no particular order (except for the first one):

1. Paris is for lovers and I am in Love! In NYC too, surely love can be found, but much more difficult to nurture in such a fast-paced city with so much of everything.

2. Eating is an art. Dinner is a daily ritual, an experience to savour, whether dining at home on a Monday night, at a local bistro with friends, or at a highly-rated Brasserie. 

3. The pace of life is S L O W. These days, I rarely walk with the speed of a New Yorker. As soon as the flowers begin to blossom I will take the time to smell them. ALL of them.

4. Living history. Each corner of Paris feels like stepping into the pages of a history book. Simply taking a walk, anywhere, is enchanting.

5. Simple pleasures. You can exist on a decadent (if not so balanced) diet of the finest in bread, cheese, wine and chocolate, at least for the first month. I could go on about the cheese…

6. Art fills the air. The unique and often beautiful graffiti art and murals are a pleasure to admire. Even a shopping trip to Galeries Lafayette proves a cultural experience, with a gallery exhibiting select artists and window displays to match. And the MANY revered galleries lining the left and right banks…

7. The sky. Particularly mesmerizing at dusk. (I can’t recall, was there even a sky in NYC?)

8. Time to be. Mostly due to the highly coveted 35 hour work week. The French value their free time, something I (nor anyone I know) seemed to ever have enough of in NYC. To pursue hobbies, to travel, simply to be. 

9. The Seine. Whether it be a late summer night, wrapped in warm air overlooking the Notre Dame, or a brisk walk across the Pont Neuf in the chill of winter, in the reflection of the Seine I cannot help but to smile and feel grateful.

10. The people I love most in the world will all come to visit. This is Paris after all!

The list is much longer and there remain many more Parisian delights to discover. (Please feel free to add your own.)
What is that famous saying, ‘you can take the girl out of the city…’. I will always be a New Yorker at heart, and I will never quite attain the status of a Parisian. But surely I will enjoy the experience of living in this culturally resplendent city and adding to the richness of my own unique culture.

the look of a Parisian

French women always look stylish, even more so in the midst of fashion week. In an attempt to discover their secrets (as surely they would never divulge such privileged information), I decided to consult the mannequins, leading me to carouse almost every boutique in the Marais. This was not an exercise in shopping (though each week the prices are falling and temptation is rising), but more of a research project, in which I would occasionally purchase a select piece that will remain in my (French) closet for years to come. This is no easy task. The art of looking ‘Parisian’. Upon leaving NYC my dear stylist friend Evelyn, to whom I am forever grateful, assisted me in project ‘Pack for Paris’. I only allowed myself two (very large) suitcases, did I really need more than that? (I traveled around the world for 13 months with only one bag, after all). Together we strategically selected what I would be wearing in this fashion capital, on those occasional evenings to the Opera, frequent dinners at trendy bistros, imagined strolls along the boulevards, but most importantly what I would need to feel stylishly comfortable in my new life. With expert cajoling, I bid adieu to half of my wardrobe, unworn tunics from India, my favorite faded shorts custom tailored in Hoi An, vintage coats from Portobello Market. I dressed as many friends as I could and donated the rest. In the end, this proved a great lesson in detachment and the art of minimalism.

Now, five months into my life in Paris, I am attempting to understand the French fashion culture. Faced with the blank stares of stylish mannequins luring me into their windows I ask myself, where is Evelyn when I need her? Admittedly, I buy much less and appreciate each addition to my wardrobe much more. I am no doubt a classicist, revering the creations of Givenchy, Chanel, YSL, Pucci, to name a few. If only this were the Paris of the 1960’s, fashionably speaking! Alas, in this fashion forward era, I continue to admire elegance and simplicity with a personal twist. The ever changing fashion trends intrigue, but seldom appeal. There exists much more inspiration in the unique living and breathing ‘models’ walking the streets of Paris, than behind the store windows.  My ‘chic et branché’ look now consists of Petit Bateau T-shirts mixed with classic couture. And black will always be the new black. (I am a New Yorker after all!) In conclusion, what I have learned through this exercise in observation is the following: simplicity paired with very carefully selected accessories makes the greatest statement, and ALWAYS wear a scarf!

la baguette

The baguette symbolizes France. It is universally recognized as a staple of the French diet, regarded as a simple and essential part of the complex food culture. The baguette is derived from the bread first baked in Vienna in the middle of the 19th century. Steam ovens had begun to be used, enabling loaves to be baked with a crisp crust and the white center. In 1920 a law was passed preventing bakers from working before 4am, making it impossible to bake the traditional loaf in time. Thus, the longer, thinner baguette was created, in time for the customers’ breakfasts. Voilà!

Ah, to sit beneath the Eiffel tower with a fresh baguette in hand, accompanied by a creamy camembert and a bottle of Bordeaux. (Cliché is a French word after all!) I prefer to indulge in this tradition of bread, sitting on the Seine accompanied by the light of an early spring evening, a fresh chevre and fig confit. Or simply walking down the street chewing on the end of a baguette, French style. These days I have weaned myself off of the ‘one baguette a day’ rule, not so easy for my Italian I must say! We are having quite a delectable adventure exploring the over 28 various baked delights found in close to 1,260 boulangeries lining the streets of Paris. Thus far I have tasted of 27…

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