Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Ca C'est Tout



Weiner Dogs. Thata way.


So anywho, holy shit. I'm leaving Paris.

The past couple of days I have been doing the inevitable, that I promise time and time again that I will save my poor self from each time I am in derangement. But, alas, it creeps upon us with all things great that are coming to an end: Glorification. The past couple days I have been doing my favorite choses a faire with my favorite friends in the city, laughing about how much the people annoyed us, and then accepting how much we have taken from them. I spent Monday with KK the Great, sipping cafes, having brunch with Alexis after an awkwardly hilarious yoga session, dining vegetarian in the city that resents this sub-culture to no end, and sitting for a good two hours exploring the secrets of the best chocolat chaud and french woman with cigarettes in tow on Ile Saint Louis. All day we kept returning to the inevitable mental list of the things we will miss most; some of my favorite being....

I'm going to miss (insert le sigh):

Loving the States

Two hours at a cafe, trying to rectify the world's problems, one espresso at a time

Perfect lighting

The cultural respect for food and what the French have taught me about it

Beauty. Everywhere. Anywhere.

Culture. Art. Museums. Monet. Orangerie. Monet. Orangerie.

Not working. Leisure at its finest.

Taking my time... and it not being weird.

Franglais Dinner Parties.

Hot bread from the Boulanger. Croissants. Macarons. Passion for doing things right. Intolerance for the mediocre when it matters most.... with breadstuffs.

Using the senses. Smelling it all.... well, maybe not on the metro.


Today, at my last brunch with the ladies.. sadly minus KK, we enjoyed the view from Sydney's amazing apartment where we could see Sacre Coure, La Tour Eiffel, and the rest of la vie francaise from up top. There wasn't anything fluffy about our goodbyes, they were more see you laters. We decided au lieu de opening our Parisian Boulangerie in the States, we would start a group food blog, incorporating our different food and life perspectives and coalescing them in the appreciation for the ways Paris has changed our views and lives to a certain extent. We sighed and realized that we are returning to the land of the 40 hr work week, no croissants au beurre in the morning, and 10 day vacations that are rarely taken. Lord help us...

Amrita and I continued on to discover le gout de Pierre Herme's crazy macarons, including: strawberry wasabi, Olive oil and vanilla (our decided fan favorite), and chocolate passion fruit.


Before:

The green is the olive oil vanilla... oh la la!

After:

We shared these suckers over about an hour of chatting, enjoying the company just as much as the tasting. I think thats one of the best things Paris has taught me. Enjoy. Slow down, and enjoy more.


Sneaking out the back Chez Mlle. Raja's

My times here have shown me yet another cultural perspective through its people, their oh la las, and their passion for complaining and cafes. Its back to the states where I will undoubtedly miss all I've experienced, but at the end of my half year stint... its finally time for a detox.

Thanks Paris... je vraiment t'aime.

Next stop: Stockton. Dodging bullets, one at a time...this time, in English.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Ca c'est magnifique


My new favorite place in Paris has become Musee de l'Orangerie, the museum that holds 8 huge Monet water lily works (Les Nympheas) in two oval rooms, that were constructed largely to Monet's specificities. It is a must see for any museum go-er visiting Paris, especially if you are a self proclaimed impressionist obsessionist, comme moi. The positioning of the Orangerie, or technically speaking an old greenhouse, is poetic to boot, housing the famous waterlilies between the Seine and the Tuilerie gardens.... a cohesion of water and garden. The diffused light and the minimalistic qualities of the room let the murals do the talkaty talk.... if you allow them to.



It is the art in Paris, in all its forms, and the high regard that the people here hold for it, that continuously befuddles me. Why this isn't safeguarded more in the States or elsewhere for that matter...given more attention in schools and given more importance and encouragement in terms of career/life pursuits. Afterall it is through art the way people can feel and experience life and its beauty... and the way we can all talk to one another about it, throughout time, with or without words.


I'm still not sure to what extent I embrace some of modern art's belief in the idea of everyday,real world art, but here is an implementation of curvature elsewhere nevertheless..... as interpreted this time by Ikea:

Yes, this is the metro. And yes, those are Ikea couches. Complete with their own personal bookshelf poster to back, back, back it up. I must say, I like your style.... and so do the Parisian bums.


Other thoughts?

Use more whole grain flour. Especially when baking scones. They are delicious.


First spring sun= happiness, which in fact means that I will now pry myself from my radiator and allow the imprints in my back to disappear from resting there for the last 4 months.


Colin Farrell= not so shabby singer. And dare I say Crazy Heart Soundtrack= practical genius.

A la prochaine.


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

et plus en plus

I had to include this photo from Mlle. Gardikas' photo collection from our party. I just love it.


A interesting side note... a friend Margo had brought a nice French lady along to the dinner party festivities. This Frenchie noted later that she felt a bit inferior in terms of attire because all the Americans were, apparently, looking rather stylish. Too bad half of our outfits were jokes, complete with onsies and bright pink fufi-wear.

Supposedly we're chic even when we're a joke. Vive les americain(e!)s.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Schmoopies et plus. 2010.






The past two weeks have been go go a-go-go and have left me a bit strapped for energy, veggies, and sanity. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. Last week I was visited by some of my favorite people dans la monde... my New York life meeting my Paris one. Yes, I'm sorry New York I'm not quite as fast as Ive been in the past...but hey, I still love tequila.

Day One: Natasha aka Schmoopie Boysaw flies in and arrives about 9 hours en retard after experiencing the inconvenience of the striking French at the airport. Fitting really. But, we were finally reunited, jumping up and down like kindergarten bffs after not seeing one another for an entire Christmas Holiday. We chatted well into the morning, and its always so wonderful when you can feel as though nothing has changed... across continents, across time zones, and more importantly across new haircuts and hats.

Our first day took us to cafes, then a brief introduction to the Falafel man, (who after many inquiries I will answer yes, is sort of still around) and chatting in french history museums about art and life more than actually paying attention to the paintings on the wall.


Lovey, Martha.... You're too cute for the Brits.


Best storyteller around. Especially with those specs.

Enters Mlle. Kimmer Novak. Enter Mlles. Martha Gardikas et Devin O'Fallon. The loud laughing American girls taking photos on the subway, causing trouble at Brunch where forks were thrown at us and then right back (metaphorically on the return i suppose), drinking cafes and champagne trying to pretend like we fit in, but in our own quirky way forever standing out. These girls brought a little of New York back to me, reminiscing over our volleyball memories and nightmares and catching each other up on how we all changed, but more so, how we're exactly la meme.


Schmoopie always seemed to take pictures of Kim with a baguette in her mouth. I'm sure I would get some Kimmer hate mail if I posted the others.... Love you Kimmmer!


We had a dinner party with Americans and Frenchies... over pizza and NY cheesecake. Some of us got really drunk and started touching the hostess' face. Others were male Parisians named Eud (pronounced OOOOOD) who called themselves Phillipe. Others decided they didn't like their seats and began their rendition of musical chairs. And all the Americans were messy leaving their marks forever on the french tableclothes while the French looked from their side of the table in horror. God help us.

The next day, we climbed up to Sacre Coeur with soups and smoothies from Kim's find “Smooth and the City” (with a name like that, easily mistakable for a waxing joint), found photo ops around lovely Parisian sights, ate a mushroom apple strudel, had fortunes told at a bar by an 80 year old drunk Frenchman/ tarot card reader , boarded the wrong train that took us out of the city, fell down a couple stairs..... did a lot without doing too much.


When just the 3 originals remained, we brunched and check out my favorite, Musee D'Orsay, pointing out our individuals loves and leaves in this manageable magnificence.


The last night Schmoopie et moi recovered ourselves from almost dying several time on bikes and then in the below freezing crypts of the Pantheon, with a veggie meal discussing what we always like to discuss.... hats, Florida in old age , future life excursion and trouble in the making, and how bad we feel for whichever young men would ever attempt to manage either of us. These two ladies are just a little too happy on their own and a bit too difficult to please. But Paris, you've done one hell of a job.

Sometimes it takes some friends from a different time/ place to remind you of parts of yourself. They know you so well, and even if you think you've changed so much...they assure you that you haven't. You remind one another that Mariah Carey still has the best Christmas music around, Martha-isms are still the best -isms around, Butternut Squash said with no teeth is a way to make time and bus rides pass, the inside jokes about waterboys and London hostels will forever and always make you laugh, and that Schmoopies will forever and always be Schmoops...

The great things about friendships spanning over years is that they let you feel as you did when you first met, with less worries, less knowledge, and more importantly more mischief. Whoever said Americans don't keep their friends for life? Ca n'est pas vrai! ...the 4 of us living in 3 diff cities, is just another warranted excuse to travel. A bientot les filles!


Courtesy of Mlle Schmoopie Boysaw for all Black and White Photography. Quotes upon request.