Ive been realizing lately, that surprisingly enough, when I'm at my happiest, I have less going on, less stuff around, and more time to enjoy things that generally aren't considered all too spectacular in everyday life. But, these string of un-noteworthies are indeed together more than wondrous. What has been making me smile wider the past few days:
A new tea room stumbled upon in Paris, just because of a new route to get to an old destination, has the most perfect tea, lighting, and ambiance. Complete with a fire in the corner and the tall, dimly light room covered with old books climbing up and down the walls....it just makes you want to crawl up in a booth, order the wondrous vanilla concoction or “old man's tea” (no joke, not translated) and do a little light reading, I dunno, lets say, in a natural healing book.
So I met a stranger, in French, and had a continuous conversion without too many awkward moments (a triumph in any language) the entire train ride (35 min) back to Paris from work. My head hurt a bit after, but damn it felt good.
I fell for the first time in Paris...yep, running (late) up the escalator from the metro, and voila...face plant. My mom should be glad to hear that I miraculously escaped death, and managed not to get my socks or sweater caught in the moving staircase...a fear of hers since I can remember. Anywho, I just got up, smirked to myself that its been way too long since I had a good fall, and kept running without a wobble in my step. I didn't even need to refer back to the people behind me to know if they were laughing. I know they were, and if not, I'm officially worried about the French. Come on, tall, ganguly, American in that silly beret smack down on the escalator floor? They mustn't see that one too often.
After spending dinner #2 dinner with the roomies (j'ai de la chance!) I took advantage of another beautiful Parisian night to walk along the beautiful streets where the lights hit the grooves all too well in the buildings. A cafe and some journaling later, I relish the idea of being able to prolong my nights with this beautiful city as much as possible.
I saw a truly independent movie, only playing in 3 tiny theatres, and just in Paris, about the impact of music of bringing Israelis and Palestinians together towards peace. Afterwards, the French ambassador in Israel spoke and the producer answered questions. It was so french. One viewer's question could literally be inducted into the Guinness book for all time longest inquiry. Others were already making plans on how they could send this film around the world through ipods, tvs, microwaves....you name it. The best thing...I actually got what they were saying.
Carole, my roomie, and I spent the evening together, bonding, in french, over real subjects, in french. My grammar might suck, but we still understood one another. Just two people, trying to make the best of life, in different languages. I met her dad for the first time, as most of her family joined us after our dinner of African Peanut soup for some whiskey and cigars. I just sat back and took it all in. Her mom even asked me how I got the Thanksgiving turkey to taste so good. Response: BUTTER. Oops!
We turned the heater up, and with my back plastered against it at the moment, I 'm almost on FI-YAH.
After seeing the 2009 Cannes pick, Agosta, I am realizing how flipping damn lucky I am, to be in Paris, with truly great people, watching the snow fall on the beautiful streets, sharing meals and laughter, and most importantly being thankful that I'm not a pagan, woman, or just flippin present in 391 AD.
Hashing out the events de la quotidien with KK over overpriced delicious cafes and un carafe d'eau (bais ouais), we cover and recover topics...and it never seems to get old. A newer addition to the scene: dating avec un peu de la style francais. A year ago KK had graciously enough gathered information from a french man that the dating scene works a little different here. Apparently you dont date around. You date one person at a time. Not three, or the entire city of NY, if you have more of a Samantha Jones style. Soooo....KK points out that when we laugh at the falafel guy when he calls me his girlfriend, he might not be laughing along with us. God, I hope this is just one perspective. An inaccurate one to be more clear.
Seeing the Eiffel tower on an above ground metro line. Especially at night, on the hour, when it sparkles more than figuratively. It just hasn't gotten tiresome yet.
Yep, yes, ouais, oui....this city is being rather good to me....smelly peeps and all.