Back in the USA

Is it weird that, while typing the title of this post, I got "Back in the USSR" stuck in my head? I'm thinking the jet lag has spread to my brain. Yikes.
Anyway, I have arrived, safe and sound, back in New York. My head is still swimming with the events of the last 12 days. It was definitely a completely new experience for me, in a city I know well, which is interesting in a lot of ways. As I mentioned briefly before, we approached speaking French very differently this time around. When we were students, going out in the city and speaking French with Parisians often seems like a sort of test or gauge of how well you're assimilating, how much you're learning, etc. Though it shouldn't be, it can get stressful. During this visit, we just sort of went for it, speaking the language without getting too hung up on grammar, noun and adjective agreement. And, probably unsurprisingly, it wasn't badly received. People actually told us we spoke well (this might have something to do with being a pair of 23 year old girls, but I choose to believe it's our grasp of the French language). Either way, it felt great - like I could at least keep up socially and I actually understood a lot of the conversations I found myself in. Also, being a bit older than I was while studying in Paris, the kinds of people I ended up speaking to were different, more mature (mostly), and had more interesting paths and life stories to tell.
I'm now chronicling all these people in little portraits before they leave my mind - it's a fun way to extend the trip, at least mentally, for a little while longer.
Speaking of portraits, all of my posts from Paris have now been made a little brighter with photos! I've also added some of me and Maeve below, and, if you'd like to look at all the pictures I took in one place, you can click here.
It's bittersweet, but I'm glad to be back on home soil (and to have a cell phone I can use again). I'm convinced - travel is the best gift you can give yourself.
Xo.

Day 2 - Rodin, Cheese, & Celebrity Sightings

Bonjour from Paris!

What an amazing time I'm having, and it's only been 2 days! I don't have a ton of time to write this, so I'll try to hit all the highlights thus far.
As some of you may know, it is impossible for me to nap or sleep sitting up in any capacity, which makes long flights completely miserable. But on Thursday night the impossible happened. I slept for the entire flight. The whole time. I'm still shocked. So, when we arrived in Paris (at the adorable apartment we're renting), after a quick double espresso, we were off and running with little to no jet lag.
We walked to the Seine, freaked out in front of Notre Dame, went to our favorite cafe for late lunch, watched French children (who are better dressed than I am on a good day), got a little lost in the 14th, and had a picnic dinner in our apartment. In the course of all this, we've been speaking a ton of French with pretty good results in that no one has answered us in English yet. Still got it.
We woke up a little late today, got pain au chocolat and more double espresso (Maeve and I enable each other's caffeine addictions), and walked all around the 5th, where the apartment is. We then walked down Rue de Grenelle, a very chic street in the 7th, on our way to the Rodin museum. Walking into a children's clothing store was a man with crazy hair who seemed familiar to me. After a bit of staring, I realized it was Tim Burton around the same time Maeve spotted Helena Bonham Carter. Of course,we went in and pretended to shop while sneaking glances their way. Such a cool celebrity sighting.
Now, we're back in the apartment preparing for dinner at Fish La Boissonerie, which I expect will be predictably amazing.

I didn't know exactly how it would feel to be back, but the only way I can describe it is boundless joy. Paris really just makes me so insanely happy.

Missing all of you. More tomorrow or the next day! Xo.

Quick Pre-Paris Update!

Ok, I know I've been very bad and have neglected this blog terribly over the past few weeks. In my defense, there has been a ton going on, especially in preparation for the trip to Paris tomorrow.
For those who want to follow along, I'll be chronicling my escapades with Maeve (more or less) daily while we're there, via iPad. No pictures until I get back, but hopefully I'll be able to describe springtime Paris well enough so you'll feel like you're there.
Until Friday - À Bientôt!



PS. On a completely unrelated note, if you have a minute, you really should read this article written by the four New York Times journalists who were held captive in Libya. Incredible story, grippingly told.

Paris in One Month!

rue Christine

“America is my country, and Paris is my hometown.”
-Gertrude Stein

My posts are typically musings on something, or at least more than just a photo and a quote. But today, when it's pouring and ugly and cold in New York, I'm just letting myself revel in the fact that, in exactly one month, I'll be flying back to Paris!

Nostalgia and Its Perils

So, for reasons including excitement for my return, the search for names of places to find again, and general madness, I spent a large amount of time yesterday going through all the emails and chats I had while living in Paris in the Spring of 2008. Aside from being a fantastic waste of time, it made me the most nostalgic I've been in recent memory.
I have a love/hate relationship with this feeling - mostly because it is such a combination of wistful happiness and sadness for me. I was such a different person in 2008, in ways that are both obvious and more subtly hidden upon reading all this correspondence. It was a time in which I had very few responsibilities, was able to pursue new adventures and experiences (mostly) as I wanted to. While I have a (bursting at the seams) journal I kept during my time there that I've since reread, I think there's something interesting to be seen in how we interact with others - how it's a reflection of who we are at that moment.
And who was I at that moment? Happier, more free to pursue my impulses, not consumed with the specifics of how to carve out life for myself post-graduation, surrounded by beauty in a place I love. Yes, all of these things, but also less informed about who I was, so often frustrated about the silliest problems, and without the knowledge that I have now. The past 2-3 years have been joyful, frustrating, and nothing if not eventful. My relationships have changed - the same ones chronicled in these emails. And some don't even really exist anymore. Some of it does make me miss the version of me that wrote these emails - she's just different enough from me now to feel like a separate person. I find it startling to think about.
Plus, all my Paris emails are labeled and filed together in the organizational wonderland that is Gmail, so it's all there, compact and staring at me - whereas ten or twenty years ago, that time in my life would be scattered in mismatched letters and postcards that could accidentally be thrown away. On a more cheerful note, all of this makes me more excited to go back and see how I respond to the same places, tastes, and language that were part of my life before.

Speaking of Paris and all things French, came across these ads today, and they're so perfect. Also, it is possible for Scarlett Johannsson to not look fantastic?

Makes me want red lipstick. And champagne, of course.

In Honor of the Impending Paris Trip

Happy Thursday!

Notes from the Past 24 Hours

This quote, from the beginning of the book I'm about to start:

"Beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror."
-Rainer Maria Rilke

At first, I liked this because it sounded badass, but the more you think about it, the more you begin to see. I started thinking of examples of how this may or may not be true, which brought my mind to a slightly paranoid place. The moments of beauty that I've had in my life - have they all led to terror, horrifying or thrilling as it may be? No, probably not, but I love that idea that, in order to see something or someone for how beautiful it/he/she is, there has to be something at stake - that you have something to lose or be afraid of in the process. Yes, that's super dramatic, but oh well. Sometimes you need an inordinate amount of drama and introspection, just to make things interesting - especially now that it get dark before 5pm.
On a lighter note, last night a friend and I made Ina Garten's Roasted Chicken (yes, the one she supposedly makes for her husband every Friday night. And yes, the concept of that is very weird). While the chicken itself is delicious and very easy to make, I was really into the vegetables (carrots, onions, and fennel). I'm not typically a fan of carrots at all, but we used these excellent organic ones that haven't been cut down beyond recognition into baby carrots or whatever it is they're called. The taste is so visceral for me - these are the carrots I used to feed to horses when I was younger, the ones that look like they were just pulled up from the ground.

Before and After shots of our (formerly) feathered friend:

The Preparation...



And digging in..


Perfect Fall meal - with some delicious and light Spanish Tinto, of course.

Another new thing discovered in the past day or so - the blog, Little Brown Pen. It's written by a woman who is a copywriter by trade but travels back and forth to Paris and photographs her time there. She sells the most beautiful prints - often organized by color. "Paris in Green" is on my Christmas list. Well, let's be honest - I want to buy all of them and wallpaper my room. Cannot wait to go back.
Okay, back to work, so I can make money to keep buying organic chickens and finance a Paris trip!

Paris & Plot

Tonight, I watched Broken English, which is a favorite movie of mine. Parker Posey is really great in it (and I love everything she wears). It's ultimately a love story, but also all about rejecting self-imposed boundaries and appreciating life while acknowledging its difficulties. The movie is set mostly in New York, but ends in Paris. Even though it's only the last 15 minutes of the movie, I love the way Paris is shot. So many movies set in Paris just show the "greatest hits", but there's so much more to the city than the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. The last scene of Broken English takes place in the Metro, which recalls so many visceral memories for me. Right down to the distinctive smell of the stations and specific shade of green plastic that lines the cars, the metro really says "Paris" to me, as much as any monument or museum. I can't wait to go back and pull the little lever to open the door before the car stops moving (always the illicit thrill).
I'm also wrapping up a truly epic family weekend that included lots of food, wine, Yankees baseball, watching both brothers be athletic, and celebrating their turning 16. Thankfully, while they are both of age to do so, neither are licensed to drive a car. I actually drove in New York for the first time ever this morning. It was terrifying, and something I hope to avoid doing ever again. Those cab drivers really are maniacs! I came close to shaking my fist at one this morning, but I thought it best to keep both hands on the wheel.
I also spent this evening reading and starting to write some responses to an article my mom clipped out and brought for me (along with a rug for my room and a blender. Thanks, Mom!) on plot in fiction by Ann Patchett. Plot, along with dialogue, is something I shy away from in my writing, out of fear of being cliched or otherwise lame. This article, along with the Michael Cunningham quote from the previous post, is giving me motivation to wade through the bad stuff that I will inevitably write to get to the good. It's scary (at least for me) to press forward with something knowing that I may very well fail at it, but I guess that's life. Can't be afraid of rejection and some mediocre work, since I'll never get better if I don't try.
I don't like to end on such a sentimental note, so I'll now go to bed grumbling because I have to work on Columbus Day tomorrow, unlike my across-the-hall neighbors who seem to be throwing a fairly large party. I feel like an old lady today - incompetent driver complaining about the damn kids and their loud music across the hall. Also, I'm going to bed at 10:30, which just perpetuates this theory. Good night!