Chock-Full of Color

It's not always easy living in Paris with the gray skies and the grumpy Parisians.

But how can I be depressed for too long when I walk along one of my favorite streets, Rue Vieille du Temple, in the Marais and I stumble across a bakery (Boulangerie Malineau) with the most color cookies I've ever seen?

Where am I?

Though I speak to my French husband in French, a lot of my life is in English.

I read mostly in English, I speak to my son in English, I have many English-speaking friends, I write in English.

At times I am so submerged in English-dom, as I am now sitting at my computer, that I forget where I am. Then I hear the chatter of voices outside our apartment. I pause from what I am doing and think to myself, "Oh, listen, they are speaking French, how odd!"

Then I remember where I am, and I start to laugh. I'm the one who's actually "odd", and then I revel in the fact that I am living in Paris.

What were They Thinking?

Just last week, the Hubby, the Baby and I sat in a sweet little park next to Notre Dame. We were deeply involved in watching a woman covered in pigeons as she fed them, only to be interrupted by an English wedding party.

I forgot about the Pigeon Lady when I saw the bride and groom stand under one of the rose arches for pictures.

I turned to my Hubby and said, "Why are they taking the photos from that angle?" You see, Notre Dame was behind the people taking the pictures, not behind the bride and groom.

This bugged me and I inched closer and closer to the well-dressed folks.

The Hubby followed me and very gently said, "You don't have to save everyone."

Pffff. He's right. So I did the only logical thing...I took the picture myself.

Setting Sun

I walk the same Paris city streets regularly. As I do so, I try to let the unexpected catch my attention, as well as enjoy the familiar that still fills my heart with joy.

But I do wonder. Will I stop seeing the beauty around me, in the way that we stop looking at the paintings or posters that hang in our homes? Will I begin to take this beautiful city for granted?

Thankfully it doesn't take much to snap me out of my musings. Just a turn or lifting of the head at just the right moment, and there it is, that connection with the here and now in all its perfection.

Walking home from a stroll along the Seine recently, skirting the Hotel de Ville from the back, I noticed the setting sun catching the yellow of the Metro "M", making it seem partially lit up.

Above Paris

Though I hate to admit it, I'm a couch potato. Living in Los Angeles for 12 years, where you drive everywhere, didn't help matters. Paris, on the other hand, has accomplished something that no other city has been able to do; I have actually become a walker.

Even so, when the weather is gray, as it has been most of the summer, my spuds-nature rears its head and I just want to lounge around the house in my sweats. Thus when my friend Merja asked me to join her on an adventure that I had wanted to go on for a while, I came up with a million excuses not to climb Notre Dame and see Paris from its bell towers.

Thankfully, I didn't whine to her and ended up having the time of my life, ranking the experience up there with climbing Uluru in Australia.

These photos were taken on the first level below the two towers.

(Famous Gargolye)


(Sacre Coeur is on the hill)


(Prefecture de Police and the Palais de Justice, Hitler ordered both to be bombed, as well as Notre Dame)


(The Eiffel Tower and La Defense Financial District)

(The steeple is the Sainte Chapelle)













These were taken from the top of the left tower (right tower if you are looking at the Cathedral).





(View of Ile Saint Louis and the gardens behind Notre Dame)


It was wonderful to see Paris from a whole new perspective.

Paris Nudges Me Awake

After a long night interrupted countless times by my restless mind, as well as my baby's cries, I fell asleep for our morning nap with his soft foot on my nose.

I awoke too soon to clomping in the street and a baby lying in my arms. I tried settling back into sleep but I couldn't help wonder if I had heard a horse trotting down the small street below our window.

I had visions of a lost Cavalerie de la Garde Républicaine soldier, in his elegant black jacket and shiny gold helmet topped by a bright red crest with a horse tail jutting out of it, riding his horse, which left a huge pile of dung for pedestrians and cars to negotiate.

But a woman's laughter pierced the fantasy, I turned my head, looked at my baby's soft, sleeping face, his mouth slightly ajar revealing hints of his very white upper teeth, two of seven, and his breath soft and rhythmic, as his fingers twitched gently.

Magic

Strolling along in front of Notre Dame with friends who were visiting Paris last night, we enjoyed the warm evening, the classical guitarist and then, when the odor of gasoline assaulted our senses, we walked over to the fire twirlers with great anticipation.

We were hoping they were the same ones we had seen recently. When I saw that they were, I knew something special was about to happen. But even so, when it did, I stood in awe, wonder and bliss.



When I walked away, I was changed by the power of this magical moment and I was truly, deeply content.

Gray to Sunny

Have you ever been unhappy in a situation or place? Then things look up and you don't know what to do with yourself?

It has been a gray, gray, gray summer and I've been down, down, down. I love Paris, the architecture of the city, the river Seine, the gorgeous esthetics that surround me in the simplest of places and spaces, but when the sky is as gray as the Parisians themselves, especially in the summer when I expect sunshine, it's even a little too much for generally-upbeat me.

I've been seriously contemplating moving to a sunnier place and then last Monday, I woke up, sure it was going to be another gray day. I folded back the shutters and found, to my shock, a crisp, blue sky.

It was so unexpected and so troubling, I immediately took a picture of it. I was elated and hesitant. I woke up sure that I was going to complain about the grayness again, and then didn't know what to do with myself when I saw that the situation had changed and there was no need to complain. I had gotten used to complaining and now had to change my way of being.

But then I thought to myself, Could it be real? Could it last? How long would it last?

It took walking to the park with my son and sitting on a bench for an hour for me to ease out of the discomfort of the beautiful sky into the bliss of the glorious day.