Janvier: les cinq premiers

It is hard to keep up with all the reasons why I adore Paris. In an effort to put them into words/images, here is January's top five list of the things that make me happy in Paris.

1. Handwritten notes.

I have received more handwritten notes in the one month that I have lived here than I receive in one year back in the states.

My first handwritten note was taped to the front door of my apartment by my crabby-ass, crazy neighbor.  I, of course, handwrote my rebuttle (with some localization help by my French friend who is a stickler for French nuances).  A couple of weeks later, I received another handwritten note in my mailbox. This one is from an anonymous source instructing me that I must have a couple of professional plaques made for the intercom and mailbox as the inkjet printed version that I have inserted into the slot will no doubt give all the other tenants license to junk up all of the common spaces (uh, okay).

Just when I began to think that I was being singled out and was beginning to take it personally, a friend gave me some great insight... "Just because you are getting handwritten notes, don't think that you are special or that it is personal. It isn't that way in France. In the US, you write a note when you want someone to know how meaningful and special they are. In France you handwrite a note because you refuse to accept and don't know how to use any other forms of nouvelle communication, like a phone, email, etc."

Sometimes, it feels really nice to know that it's them, not me.

2. Baies candles and the Diptyque mothership right down the street.

Diptyque's flagship boutique on St. Germain

Anyone who has ever been to my house in the states knows that I love Diptyque's Baies candles. I suppose you could say that it is my home's signature scent. So, when I realized that Diptyque's original flagship store was a 4 minute walk from my apartment in Paris, I couldn't get there fast enough.

My knowledge of Diptyque (thanks to my friend Trey) seemed to impress Jean-Luc at Diptyque. And while I intended only to stock up on a couple of Baies (and perhaps an eau de toilette for good measure), what I came home with was another story. Jean-Luc stock piled my bag with every scent that he thought would be sympathique with my taste. Plus, a book about Diptyque and the formulas for their scents to further my Diptyque education.

In addition to an apartment that smells like home, I have a couple of brand new scents that are awakening my senses.

3. Octopus by Philippe Decouflé

My darling girlfriend had a recent Friday night free (her parents would watch her 3 year-old over night). Her desire was that we somehow secure tickets to a sold out (and highly sought after) dance performance of Octopus that was choreographed and directed by Philippe Decouflé at Théâtre National de Chaillot. I assumed that this task was impossible. Alas, proving once again that she has magical powers for manifesting ANYTHING she wants, we miraculously had two tickets for the Friday night performance. Not just ANY two tickets; we would be sitting in the front row, center stage for the performance.

Théâtre National de Chaillot

I experienced a dance and musical treat unlike anything I have ever seen before. The dancing, the costumes, the artistic back drop, the live music and the subject matter was beyond my wildest dreams. If I were to try and explain the theme, I would say that it was one of love and beauty; of contrasts and opposites. With co-dependency, jealousy and independence as some of its sub-themes. Here is a small glimpse. 

 Oh, and the live music that I mentioned could have been a show unto itself. Nosfell performed live on stage with a partner who periodically chimed in on the cello, piano, and drums... like ya do.

4. Half a baguette.

I have been getting very concerned about my carbohydrate intake and its aftermath. Much like it is for every other Parisian, it has become part of my routine to pick up a baguette at some point almost everyday. God forbid I be without one when searching for a conduit for my cheese, avocado, nutella, etc. Yet having a baguette in my apartment means that I inevitably end up eating the whole freaking thing. So I was delighted to learn that you can ask/pay for half a baguette. "C'est normale." Whew!


5. Paol's Tour of the Basquiat Exhibition.

Paris is hosting the largest Jean Michael Basquiat Exhibition until January 30th at the Musée de' Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris (MaM). Usually when I go to the museum, I go by myself equipped with some form of soundtrack... like music or an audio track to explain the work in more detail.

This time was different.

I was given a guided tour by Paol, who works at the Musee de' Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris. Paol is a friend of my Parisian friend, so he gave us the tour entirely in French. I chose to go it without a parachute (i.e. no English translation pamphlet as back up) and therefore, found myself paying rapt attention. Here are five things I learned about Basquiat:

- He had a long-term girlfriend, Suzanne Mallouk, who is now a Phychiatrist.

- In the early 80's he cheated on her with pre-fame Madonna.

- Suzanne beat up Madonna as a result, at The Roxy.

- Basquait paid tribute to the scuffle in a couple of his paintings. (like this one below with an image of Suzanne wearing big shoes, and several punching fist references)

- His art career was short, from age 20 until he died at 27. In that time he created over 1,000 paintings and 2,000 sketches.

- He was obsessed with Charlie Parker.

And while his painting were A.M.A.Z.I.N.G, they also came infused with little bits of inspirational wisdom.

Good luck Février, you've got some big shoes to fill.

la vulnérabilité

(Anna Dello Russo, photo by TommyTon)

la vulnérabilité (Fr.)/ vulnerability (Eng.); noun

• Capable or susceptible to being wounded or hurt

I have been thinking a lot about vulnerability and its benefits. This subject comes up for me about 8 out of 10 times when I walk out my door. Especially when I go to the theatre, the small and intimate type of theatre, not the grande sized theatre, where you can actually hide in the crowd. I find myself going to the smaller venues quite a bit as the majority of my Parisian friends are involved in theatre to some extent.

The thing about a smaller sized theatre is that the actors actually involve the audience in their performances. And while this would not normally be an intimidating factor in an English speaking environment, it causes me a great deal of anxiety in a French speaking environment as my French comprehension is quite poor. I find myself praying that they will not call me out. And I even make silent declarations to myself as I sit in the audience avoiding eye contact with the actors, that I will not put myself in this situation ever again. Yet, I know that you must expand yourself outside of your comfort zone if you want to experience life at its fullest, which is why, I suppose, I will go to yet another intimate theatre performance tonight.

It occurred to me that I could transform my anxiety into a sensation that is a tad bit more enjoyable. For example,  focusing my energy on channeling my sense of humor about my lack of comprehension rather than my embarrassment of it. Or, perhaps I could simply embrace my vulnerability, lean into it, and even shine a light on it. 

There is a very wise researcher/story-teller (yes, that is her real-life profession), Brene Brown who claims that people who have the courage to be imperfect and show the world who they are with their whole heart, experience a connection of authenticity that leads to (and enhances) a happy existence.

To have the courage to be imperfect and show the world who they are, letting go of who they think they should be in order to be who they are. And to fully embrace vulnerability and believe that which makes them vulnerable, makes them beautiful. 


If you have 20 minutes, you can check out the full TEDtalk on this subject, which raises the point that when you feel vulnerable means that you are alive:

Cadenas

Padlock (Eng.)/Cadenas (Fr.) noun:

• A portable or detachable lock, with a pivoted or sliding shackle that can be passed through a link.

Walking across the Pont de l'Archeveche, I couldn't help but stop to take in the sight of thousands of padlocks which are affixed to its railings. They come in all shapes and sizes, old and antique, but they all have one thing in common, the promise of eternal love.

For years, love-struck couples and love-lorn individuals have been engraving these padlocks with their initials and adding their sentiments, affixing them to the railing and tossing the key into the Seine below. It is said to symbolize their eternal love, under the watchful eye of Notre Dame nearby. This is not specific only to this particular bridge, and I think this concept originated in China. Earlier this year, the Paris government removed them all in a bridge clean up effort, which you would never know by the amount of padlocks that have already appeared.

As I strolled throughout the streets of Paris, I couldn't believe how many other random padlocks that I spotted. Had they been there all along and I am just now noticing them beacuse of my experience on the Pont de l'Archeveche? That got me to thinking... had every person that I saw on the street (of which there were hundreds if not thousands) experienced this sense of eternal love? 

If not, then why? Or better yet, I like to think that the question is, when?

Parfait

Parfait (Fr.)/ Perfect (eng.) Adj.:

• Lacking nothing essential to the whole; complete of its nature or kind.
• Being without defect or blemish.
• Completely suited for a particular purpose or situation.
• Excellent or complete beyond practical or theoretical improvement.
• Exactly fitting the need in a certain situation or for a certain purpose.
• Accurate, exact, or correct in every detail.

Did you ever have one of those days when everything just seemed perfect? I am having one of those days today, and it is only noon.

I woke up to the sun shining into my Parisian apartment, made a perfect cup of coffee, had an inspiring conversation with a dear friend, took a walk to pick up a croissant, and there it was... as if to say, today is your day. A window full of all white flowers. In my perfect world, I am surrounded by only white flowers, and the florist on my corner mirrored back this sentiment.

I realize that perfection is a state of mind. And to maintain perfection is to accept everything that happens or will happen as being exactly as it should be. So with that in mind, I am off to continue my perfect day.

Bonus photo from today, courtesy of my sun drenched perch in the Jardin du Luxemborg. God bless a perfect state of mind.

Leçons

Photo by Ashley Miller

Leçons (Fr.)/ Lessons (Eng.) Noun

• A useful piece of practical wisdom acquired by exerience or study. 
• An instructive example
• A section into which a course of study is divided, especially a single, continuous session or formal instruction in a subject.

It's official, I live in Paris, if only for a year. Although it has only been seven days, 4 of which have been spent in bed battling a cold, and 2 spent babysitting a 3-year-old French boy, and one at the Pompidou Museum,  I have already acquired some indispensible lessons.

Leçons: part une

• Babysitting multiple 3-year-olds in an English speaking environment is considerably easier than babysitting one 3-year-old in a French speaking country.
• Weigh your produce and print out their respective barcode stickers PRIOR to getting into the check out line at the market.
• Never cross the crosswalk when the "petite homme rouge" is still lit.
• Don't wait until your funeral to find out what people thought about you, just move to France.
• No matter how uncomfortable a situation is, it will always get better.
• Practice kindness whenever possible, it is always possible.
• The best way to prevent facial wrinkles from deepening, is to practice smiling with your forehead.
• Vous-vous the grouchy neighbor, tu will only make it worse.
• Charm trumps intelligence.

Quiche

I have decided that I am going to embrace the kitchen challenges that my teeny tiny Parisian apartment presents.

I have all the basics: small refrigerator, induction burner, toaster oven, and electric kettle. The catch (other than lack of space)? Only one heating appliance can be turned on at a time, and that includes the space heater in the other room. If you turn on more than one at the same time, ka-pow!, the power goes off. I have made this my personal mission to avoid said power outages (truth be told, I am afraid that I won't know what to do to turn it back on), which has proven to be an act of extreme coordination and planning.

I am also determined to not let the space and electrical challenges get in my way of preparing the types of culinary treats that you would expect from a Parisian. So yesterday I embarked on my first quiche in Paris, from scratch. No, I did not cheat and prepare a frozen entree quiche form the box. Although I did purchase the pastry dough.

The toaster over:

The pastry shell:

The filling:

 The point, where I almost turned back (aka the only fire alarm in all of Paris). I faced this set back head on and removed the battery like any real chef would do:

The end result:

Here's to a new year filled with facing new challenges with enthusiasm, not turning back when they get complicated, and to a belly full of amazing culinary delights!