marriage 101

Marriage is defined as an intimate or close union. Today marks 4 months since that intimate union.

Still, it feels like yesterday. Very often someone asks, has anything changed? Possibly fearing that through the commitment of marriage everything does inevitable change. Other than feeling more settled and better understanding what it means to be part of a self-designed family, nothing has changed. And that is the way I would like to keep it. How exactly do I plan to do this? By doing exactly what we did beforewe were married.

1. spontaneous dates (even just an apero after work)

2. romantic getaways (another trip to the Loire perhaps?)

3. love notes (most often left behind on my way to a girls night…)

4. sweet nothings via text (a modern version of the above)

5. speak about everything & laugh often

Most important and obvious of all, never take each other for granted. Creating this union, whether married, paxed, or simply commited on your own terms, is one of the most beautiful gifts of life.

I’m sure as the months turn into years I will have a few more to add to the list…

in remembrance

Today, like so many around the world, I pay tribute to New York City. To the 2,976 lives lost and those forever changed by loss. Ten years have passed since that fateful day. One which will never be forgotten. Like so many others, I looked up towards an ash filled sky, in disbelief, over a city filled with promise, hope and freedom. In that instant all had changed. Today I remember, along with the French, at a real time commemoration at Place du Trocadéro.

As the touching tribute concluded, gray skies turned to blue and the sun shone. In honor.

year two

Today marks two years of life in Paris. A place I now call home. Much in the way I called NYC home for almost 12 years. It feels like just yesterday I was the ‘new expat in town‘ and now I’m offering advice to fellow newcomers adjusting to the cultural nuances of life in the city of lights. (Not to mention those who dream to live here.) Not an easy adjustment might I add, but certainly one that leaves you feeling accomplished when you finally change your status from visitor to local.

Year one left me with with many lessons learned. Humility among them. All in preparation perhaps.

Year two has been a momentous one, proving just how much can happen in the space of 12 months. Most notable is the change in my status from mademoiselle to madame. Beginning and ending with Greece. Italy being the setting for the fairytale. In professional matters, I set my creative mind to work and launched my handbag business. Perhaps anything is possible in Paris. Socially I am grateful. Surrounded by like-minded expats and even a few French friends.

Most of all, year two has proven how privileged I am to live what often feels like an adventure. For better or for worse. To have the possibility to follow my dreams. And to be given the gift of love.

I look forward to year three. I hear that’s how long it takes to really master the city. I’m on my way.

today in history

You know you are living in the right city when there is a street commemorating your birthday.

I often walk past this unassuming street, cornering the famous Colette off of rue Saint-Honore, and feel a little special. So, what does it mean? This day in history celebrates the July Revolution in which Charles the X was overthrown, soon to be replaced by Louis-Phillipe, establishing the July Monarchy. July was an eventful month! Today, I celebrate along with the French, mindful of my own personal history. (Part of which fondly recalls last years adventures in Tuscany.)

How will I spend this day? If weather is on my side (still waiting for the return of summer to Paris), I will venture to the beach, Paris Plages that is, travel to India via the Pompidou, stop by chocolatier Michel Cluizel for a praline sampling, maybe even a Berthillon (pourquoi pas?) and simply lose myself in the tangle of streets, rive droite to rive gauche. (Yes, after almost two years I can still become happily lost.) All the while, grateful of having turned another year wiser and more fulfilled.

 

 

at last

At last, the wedding song. Did we have one? Not officially.

Many months ago when the fairytale began, my Italian and I happened to be in my hometown of Westhampton Beach while the great Etta James was performing. She being one of my all time most loved singers. Me being ecstatic to see her perform live, to say the least. And yes, she sang At Last.

This could very well have been our wedding song, as it is for so many, but instead it remains discreetly in the soundtrack of our love story.

What the wedding singer did perform was a Napolitan classic, requested by my dear friend Maria, a Napolitan girl herself. Not planned yet perfectly timed, Ti voglio bene assai became our song.

Here, where the sea shines
and the wind howls,
on the old terrace beside the gulf of Sorrento,
a man embraces a girl
he wept after,
then clears his throat and continues the song:

I love you very much,
very, very much, you know;
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…

He saw the lights out on the sea,
thought of the nights there in America,
but they were only the fishermen’s lamps
and the white wash astern.
He felt the pain in the music
and stood up from the piano,
but when he saw the moon emerging from a cloud
death also seemed sweeter to him.
He looked the girl in the eyes,
those eyes as green as the sea.
Then suddenly a tear fell
and he believed he was drowning
I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the vein you know…

The power of opera,
where every drama is a hoax;
with a little make-up and with mime
you can become someone else.
But two eyes that look at you,
so close and real,
make you forget the words,
confuse your thoughts,

So everything became small,
also the nights there in America.
You turn and see your life
through the white wash astern.

But, yes, it is life that ends
and he did not think so much about it
on the contrary, he already felt happy
and continued his song:

I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…

I love you very much,
very, very much, you know,
it is a chain by now
that melts the blood inside the veins, you know…

homemade traditions

One of the most memorable chapters of my life took place on a recent sunny day high up on a cliff, overlooking the Mediterranean. Throughout our Greek island-hopping honeymoon (many adventures which I will soon share), thoughts of our wedding left me feeling warm and somehow, complete. All the many months of planning this international affair (with the aid of a certain gracious Italian sister and uncle), were well worth it. (Originally we were tempted to elope!)

As so well articulated in my Italian’s speech, our love story is a cross-cultural one, with roots in the US, France, Poland and of course Italy. This was represented by our mix of friends and family as well as in our celebration.

We enacted the beautiful Italian tradition of the groom greeting the bride at the door of the church and handing her the bouquet. (What a moment!) The church service was a religious tradition which we had both grown up with. No bridesmaids or groomsmen but rather, four witnesses to acknowledge our union.

Being covered with congratulatory cries of “Auguri!” and rose petals was a moment to cherish.

So many other details set the scene, each proving how much love and care was expressed by all.

Compositions of pale blue hydrangeas mixed with white roses and a touch of lily of the valley, representing innocence on the sea (my interpretation), carefully selected by the local florist.

My bouquet of white roses and white ranunculus composed by my mother, flowers being one of her passions. (This designer mom also made my veil!)

Following an apero, a 12-course meal began (Italian style), filled with tastes from the sea. Apparently an Italian wedding is not a good one unless the guests have eaten more than enough.

The meal ended very sweetly, with a local dessert wine, sciacchetra, expertly concocted by my Italian’s father (with our names on the label – surprise!)

The cake was a special (secret) recipe from the local pasticceria, delicious! My Mom lovingly crafted the ceramic couple to top it off. Perfect.

What my Italian and I were happiest with in the end was all the fun that was had. Evident in the singing and even, dancing! Someone once told me Italians don’t dance at weddings. Certainly we challenged this tradition. The revelry began as the sun set beyond the cliffs. And it went on, and on…

Only to arrive home to the final surprise – a bed filled with rice. Another Italian tradition.

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