la lumière (the light)

i have always been very attuned to the light and the smell of a place. there is nothing, for example, quite like the crisp dampness of the air and sheer gleam of everything (from the tips of the cornsilk to the inky pavement to the wegman's sign) after a syracuse autumnal rain; or like the sweet, sweet air of an atlanta spring sugared by azalea bushes, iced tea, and orange sunsets; or like the midnight glow of halliburton tower blanketed in summer heat and the smell of sunburned grass.

in paris, my senses are all the more alive. it is, after all, the city where the art of seduction reigns. as i've noted before, when speaking of paris, one must purge from memory the dirty, anglicized connotations of this word. one must, instead, consider a piquing of all five (or six) senses as well as the brain. for example, last week when i bit into chef constant's palombe de saison, compotée de lentilles au foie gras, i smelled the rich, slightly fruity odor of the foie gras basted bird, then tasted its exquisite full flavor and felt the tiny strings of meat pop hot juice, all while listening to the hushed but vibrant conversations of a café shrouded in a reisling glow.

i know, i know. you think i'm getting carried away. and i haven't even gotten to the light in paris today! so without further wordy adieu...

not ten steps out the doorway on my jog and it started to rain. i had noticed the sky darkening, but thought maybe daylight savings had thrown off my sense of time. since it was une pluie légère (a gentle rain) and because i was really feeling the run, i decided to keep going. by the time i reached the pont du carrousel (the bridge practically in our backyard that runs straight into the louvre) the rain was not so légère, but the sky was a sight to behold: to my left was a slate ceiling of clouds that broke only in the far distance, probably past la défense, with a glowing slash of white. to my right, the louvre imposed its stoic but gilded facade on a deep purple-red mass of a sky whose invasion seemed as immenent as the revolutionary mobs on the bastille. the best, however, was yet to come.

au fond du (at the far end of the) jardin des tuileries, the path is raised such that you look down a bit toward place de la concorde. this view was truly one of the most beautifuly city scenes i have ever seen. it kills me that i don't have a picture to show you because words, even though i will try, cannot begin to describe this moment.

the rain slowed and the clouds dispersed just enough to allow the special incandescent glow of twilight to settle. this is my favorite time of day - especially when autumn mixes in the smell of wet leaves and re-lighted chimneys - but this twilight was particularly special. the light from the old-style streetlamps drew out the yellow in the leaves left scattered and sopping on the ground. headlights from the cars streaming through the place searched uncertainly for an object on which to rest. in the distance, the eiffel tower seemed a mirage, while in front of me the obelisk's golden cap shone uncannily bright. the whole scene was intensely modern and antique, garish and subtle.

i am so in love with this city.

que la lumière qui fait enflammer mon coeur vous trouve aussi.

à ma mère (to my mom)

i want to state at the outset that i am aware of two biases that significantly influence this piece:
1. obviously i think MY mom (left) is the coolest
2. not being a mother myself, i can't possibly imagine all the concerns that overwhelm expat motherhood


BUT STILL . . .

this morning i headed out to the paris suburbs for a class on white wines. i was a bit wary of the class to begin with because it was taught in english and because it was in the burbs. but i talked myself into it. it was a good deal for a wine tasting (with lunch and lunch recipies included), and i don't know much about the paris suburbs so why not check them out.

what i saw from the train and the short car ride, the area to the west (specifically st cloud and etang la ville), was quite beautiful. it's a perfect autumn day here, so changing leaves are glossed by rain; vines climbing up walls of houses have turned bright red; and the quaint green gardens and lawns represent a quieter life than could ever be achieved on rue mazarine. in between long gazes out the window and reading le monde (yay iphone!) on the way out, i developed high hopes for new friends - someone with whom i could explore the paris banlieue.

instead, i met some of the saddest expat individuals i hope to ever encounter. every single woman there had put her children in the American School of Paris, which means these children are not receiving a bilingual education. WHAT A WASTE! i moved a few times as a kid and readily admit that i created my fair share of drama about it - so i understand that moving, especially to a foreign country, would be difficult. but kids adjust and ultimately we realize and appreciate how our parents' decision to push us beyond our comfort zone is ultimately one of the greatest gifts they can give us. and what greater realm of uncertainty, yet greater gift in today's world, is there than becoming bi- or multilingual?

the approach these women had toward their children's education was reflected in their own lack of enthusiasm for learning french. i had several conversations with individuals who almost whined "ohhhh but it's so easy to just speak english." i wanted to cry. these are the women i hear in the marketplace who insist on speaking in english to ask for green beans or turkey breast. i can understand that speaking a foreign language might be intimidating. but really, really, the vocabulary needed to function at a basic level in the market, at the store, in a train station is not so overwhelming. frankly, i found their apathy and timidity revolting.

it should be noted that, while all the french people i've met here generally fit my demographic, most of the expats i've met are older, sometimes significantly, and all have children. it was not until today that i was discouraged by a new aquaintance. a special shout-out goes to lauren and nida, two super-cool moms living in the 7th - and when i say living i mean living. they're doing their darndest to get their kids speaking french, if not in french schools; they work on their own french skills; and they profitent of Paris flea markets, parks, cafes, etc. to the fullest. these are the kind of women i admire, and who i hope might turn into interesting life-long friends.

i have dedicated this entry to my mom, and i don't want to go without saying why...

there is no shadow of a doubt in my mind that if my mom had had the opportunity to move her two kids to paris, she would have jumped at the chance. she would have had us in bilingual or immersion schools. she would have spent hours roaming the markets, not just learning french but making friends with the butcher and the cheese guy. if she had to live in the burbs she would have day-tripped to paris - even if it meant struggling with a stroller and potty-training in cafe bathrooms. as it was, my mom made sure i had the best french teacher in the world and that i collected more recyclable cans than should be legally possible so i could pay for my first trip to paris 12 years ago.

god bless bold mothers.

(mom and me at top of whistler)

petits frissons (little shivers)

i know, i know. it's been ages since i last wrote. but the last 2 weeks we've had the most amazing weather, and i just couldn't make myself sit inside. so blame it on the indian summer.

also, truthfully, my brain hasn’t landed on a smashing new topic to mull over. i’ve thought about discussing…

- the board we're calling a mattress – and not just any mattress, but the latest and greatest from vietnam. huh? point is we’re not sleeping and just paid an astronomical amount of money for a surmatelas (pillow top) that we’re praying does the trick. anyway i thought about writing about that, but i don’t want to be a whiner.

- what can i buy, and be assured of its return, for the amount of ₡150. i think my mobile should be considered part of our "settling in" expenses, but apparently HR disagrees.

- speaking of mobiles, how fabulous is the iphone! i feel more chic (and about 10 years younger) just carrying it. of course, i’m also a bit parnoid someone’s going to steal it on the metro, but whatever.

- how my new "comfort food" is a soy latte from starbucks. ohhhhhhhh the horror. the horror! within 2 blocks of our apartment there are 2 (2!) starbucks. at least i make sure to sit next to some frenchies and eavesdrop – got to practice those language skills any way i can!

- how chris’s new addiction to haggen daaz is going to reverse my efforts to achieve les cuisses françaises (french thighs ☺ )

but as you can see, a sentence or two suffices on these subjects. and, well, what i’m really full of right now is how génial it is to be settled into our new apartment. despite the problems with our mattress, the apartment is proving to be super (that’s the new french word for awesome). it has space for our clothes and books and suitcases and all the office items – but all this stuff is hidden away in decorations. it's truly amazing. and the good feeling i had about our landlord, horacio, has been proven true on many accounts. he's been so helpful setting up the utilities and (believe it or not) getting the place set up in the way that’s most functional yet still beautiful for us. he even offered to buy a multi-thousand dollar antique wardrobe for our suits and coats (b/c "money is not an issue. the issue is finding the right piece that works for you and the apartment") !!!! but we ended up just hanging everything over ingrid bergman’s bathtub.

so, in honor of the apartment, i’ve posted below some updated and better quality pictures of our place (the living room and the foyer/dressing area looking into the kitchen), as well as the new view from our window. we live in a much busier area now, btw. we joke that it’s almost like we moved back to U street… only better, because now, when i write out my return address i get to write "Paris." do you know what a thrill that is? little shivers every time.

dédales de la traduction (lost in translation), or, a hairy adventure

"before":



you can probably guess where this is going right away.

yesterday was my first french hair salon experience.

when i studied abroad in college i went 6 months (including 4 in france) without ever visiting a salon. now, i'm not saying that's a better idea, but something's gonna have to give if i am to survive here because i don't think what happened yesterday is gonna cut it.

ladies and gentlemen, i present to you the "after":



pray tell, what color is my hair?

i'm really not sure this picture even does it justice. it is dark. perhaps even darker than a few years ago when i colored it all brown. but dark with blonde streaks. it certainly is "mieux mélangé" (better mixed), but seriously? and the worst part is that i wouldn't even begin to know how to explain how to fix it. i'm stuck.

so ends the dream of a new glammed-up lisa self sneaking into fashion week. ::sigh::