Sunday, July 5, 2009
French word of the day: un panaché
Def: Shandy (beer with lemonade). Perfect for these delicious days of summer.
Friday, July 3, 2009
To the roof
We had another agency soirée last night. This time it was Fred’s going away. He’s still around for a couple weeks, but the send-off on the roof was last night, and it was another beauty. No fireworks over Place de la Concorde, but there were lightening bolts over Montmartre. And I didn’t dance, but I talked to more cute colleagues. I also got lots of compliments on how well my French is progressing. I think everyone was just being nice, but it’s still good to hear. It motivates me to keep studying and talking. Even if me talk like American dork.
The next soirée will probably be for Adorable Isa’s farewell, which I’m really sad about. She’s moving back to Quebec at the end of the month. She likes practicing her English on me as much as I like practicing my French on her. We like talking together. We get each other, and it’s easier to put yourself out there to make mistakes when it’s someone you like and trust.
I started asking her what she’s going to miss about Paris and she couldn’t put it into words. “The city. This,” she said, waving her hands at the Beaux Arts buildings on the Champs-Elysée, the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Couer, our colleagues... Her eyes welled up with tears, which made me swallow a lump in my throat. I don’t envy her leaving. When Paris gets under your skin, it’s really hard to let go.
The next soirée will probably be for Adorable Isa’s farewell, which I’m really sad about. She’s moving back to Quebec at the end of the month. She likes practicing her English on me as much as I like practicing my French on her. We like talking together. We get each other, and it’s easier to put yourself out there to make mistakes when it’s someone you like and trust.
I started asking her what she’s going to miss about Paris and she couldn’t put it into words. “The city. This,” she said, waving her hands at the Beaux Arts buildings on the Champs-Elysée, the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Couer, our colleagues... Her eyes welled up with tears, which made me swallow a lump in my throat. I don’t envy her leaving. When Paris gets under your skin, it’s really hard to let go.
Flashback photos
It’s always fun to get home and relive your trip through photos. And since I get so many visitors here, it’s doubly fun to see the photos that friends and family took. Like these from my cousins.
This is my hunky cousin, Jeff.
And his gorgeous wife, Anna.
This is the three of us, happy to be together, and hungry for supper.
Which, for Jeff, included escargot…
…and, for me and Anna, pate and leeks.
Four hours later, full and happy and caught up on life, we were ready to go home and go to bed.
This is my hunky cousin, Jeff.
And his gorgeous wife, Anna.
This is the three of us, happy to be together, and hungry for supper.
Which, for Jeff, included escargot…
…and, for me and Anna, pate and leeks.
Four hours later, full and happy and caught up on life, we were ready to go home and go to bed.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
After the show
Monday night’s concert was awesome. But what made it even better was that I met a guy at the show.
Okay, he’s not the love of my life. In fact, I haven’t heard from him since, so I’ll probably never see him again. But it was still a triumph for two reasons. 1) I put myself out there and made it happen: I accomplished the near-impossible feat of meeting a local here in Paris! And 2) We hung out, talking for three hours—en francais!—and I did a reasonably good job of keeping up. Granted, he did almost all the talking and I’m pretty sure I checked out for about an hour of it, but still…
So how did I make 1 and 2 happen?
We were standing next to each other at the show, both alone. I was totally aware the whole time that I was standing next to a single, attractive guy and knew I needed to seize the opportunity. I kept thinking: What would Amee do?? In New York, AJ always pushed me to be open, to make eye contact, to not put pressure on myself and just enjoy meeting people. So I exchanged a couple comments about our mutual idol, Chrissie Hynde, with him. Contact, success. At the end of the show, as we were getting herded out of the sweaty venue, we chatted a little more—he, being very gracious about my butchered French. Once we were outside, he asked me if I wanted to get a drink. I did. So we did!
We went to a café on rue Abbesses, and he did most of the talking. But I was proud and excited that I kept up—probably because we were talking about interesting things like music, traveling, France and politics. He was cool. I liked him. I will say, towards the end, he got very French on me—he was talking, talking, talking, super fast and animated, and that’s when I sort of checked out, wondering if all French people just really like hearing themselves pontificate. Plus, it was like 1:30 and I was ready to go home and sleep. I just didn't want to commit the worst faux pas of suddenly saying 'it's time for me to go' when he was talking about the meaning of life or something. And here in Paris, you can’t rely on the service to come to your rescue. After our drinks were delivered, we didn’t see our waiter until we flagged him down, three hours later.
But at the end of the night, we exchanged numbers. I could text him, I suppose. Amee would. But I sort of feel like things started on a French foot, and it would be too (ugly) American of me to do that. So, I will wait. We’ll see if he likes me, or if he likes me not.
Okay, he’s not the love of my life. In fact, I haven’t heard from him since, so I’ll probably never see him again. But it was still a triumph for two reasons. 1) I put myself out there and made it happen: I accomplished the near-impossible feat of meeting a local here in Paris! And 2) We hung out, talking for three hours—en francais!—and I did a reasonably good job of keeping up. Granted, he did almost all the talking and I’m pretty sure I checked out for about an hour of it, but still…
So how did I make 1 and 2 happen?
We were standing next to each other at the show, both alone. I was totally aware the whole time that I was standing next to a single, attractive guy and knew I needed to seize the opportunity. I kept thinking: What would Amee do?? In New York, AJ always pushed me to be open, to make eye contact, to not put pressure on myself and just enjoy meeting people. So I exchanged a couple comments about our mutual idol, Chrissie Hynde, with him. Contact, success. At the end of the show, as we were getting herded out of the sweaty venue, we chatted a little more—he, being very gracious about my butchered French. Once we were outside, he asked me if I wanted to get a drink. I did. So we did!
We went to a café on rue Abbesses, and he did most of the talking. But I was proud and excited that I kept up—probably because we were talking about interesting things like music, traveling, France and politics. He was cool. I liked him. I will say, towards the end, he got very French on me—he was talking, talking, talking, super fast and animated, and that’s when I sort of checked out, wondering if all French people just really like hearing themselves pontificate. Plus, it was like 1:30 and I was ready to go home and sleep. I just didn't want to commit the worst faux pas of suddenly saying 'it's time for me to go' when he was talking about the meaning of life or something. And here in Paris, you can’t rely on the service to come to your rescue. After our drinks were delivered, we didn’t see our waiter until we flagged him down, three hours later.
But at the end of the night, we exchanged numbers. I could text him, I suppose. Amee would. But I sort of feel like things started on a French foot, and it would be too (ugly) American of me to do that. So, I will wait. We’ll see if he likes me, or if he likes me not.
A daily gift
"The day one sets foot in France, you can take it from me, PURE happiness begins... when I wake up in the morning I feel as excited as if it were my birthday."
—Nancy Mitford
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Pique nique on the Seine
Paris in the springtime sure is nice, but I am a summer girl. I love the long days and the packed café terraces. I love walking around the city and feeling the Parisian air on my skin and the sun on my back. It is heaven.
And just like in New York, there is a full line-up of outdoor activities and events to be taken advantage of. I will soon plot out my summer strategy of what to do, when, but last night, I got my first taste of what’s to come.
Michael and I had planned to go to Bistro Paul Bert for dinner. But because of my crazy working hours lately, I couldn’t really commit to a reservation. The last time we planned to go to Paul Bert, I had made a reservation (en francais) and then had to cancel at the last minute because of work. I didn’t want to do it again. So when Michael said something about the crazy kids picnicking on the Seine, I was all over it.
I got out of work at 8:30 and met Michael on the Pont Louis-Philippe. This was the sunset around 9 o'clock…
And this was the crowd…
And this is Michael, hiding behind the Ritz crackers.
Okay, so it wasn’t brebis from Basque and baguettes from Eric Kayser. But Michael was nice enough to go to the supermarché for the wine and snacks, and it ended up being a perfect summer evening picnic, thoroughly enjoyed by two Americans in Paris.
And just like in New York, there is a full line-up of outdoor activities and events to be taken advantage of. I will soon plot out my summer strategy of what to do, when, but last night, I got my first taste of what’s to come.
Michael and I had planned to go to Bistro Paul Bert for dinner. But because of my crazy working hours lately, I couldn’t really commit to a reservation. The last time we planned to go to Paul Bert, I had made a reservation (en francais) and then had to cancel at the last minute because of work. I didn’t want to do it again. So when Michael said something about the crazy kids picnicking on the Seine, I was all over it.
I got out of work at 8:30 and met Michael on the Pont Louis-Philippe. This was the sunset around 9 o'clock…
And this was the crowd…
And this is Michael, hiding behind the Ritz crackers.
Okay, so it wasn’t brebis from Basque and baguettes from Eric Kayser. But Michael was nice enough to go to the supermarché for the wine and snacks, and it ended up being a perfect summer evening picnic, thoroughly enjoyed by two Americans in Paris.
Moody music
Paris is a moody city. I think it’s only appropriate that I discovered Elvis Perkins while living here, despite my good friend Ben being his manager for years and inviting me to many NYC shows.
But, like Paris, describing Elvis Perkins with this one word is selling him and the rest of the band short. Beautiful, soulful, surprising, original and fun also come to mind. I’m already looking forward to seeing him when he’s back in Paris in September.
But, like Paris, describing Elvis Perkins with this one word is selling him and the rest of the band short. Beautiful, soulful, surprising, original and fun also come to mind. I’m already looking forward to seeing him when he’s back in Paris in September.
French phrase of the day: Au petit bonheur la chance
Def: Chance would be a fine thing
Chance, fate, luck… all very fine things.
Chance, fate, luck… all very fine things.
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