Terrasse

A More Perfect [Parisian] Spring Day I Never Imagined

Today was yet another beautiful new spring day in Paris - this week being the first week of sun in what feels to me an eternity - and it feels as if every teeny hair on my body is beginning to wake up from a long, desperate slumber.  I welcomed the sun with an amazing late breakfast, thanks to my two dear friends lili and rebecca.  A small cafe at the opening of rue mouffetard offered incredible spreads and pastry and coffee . . . all sitting outside in the beautiful light.  This is now a new favorite location that I can’t wait to share with my sister this may.  Then later a walk through the jardin des plantes where flowers were beginning to open and birds returned from the south.

i feel good in my skin, now that some sun hits it once in a while.  and today was the sort of day that makes me so grateful to be in paris, grateful to be alive.  the city is perfect for a long walk in the sun and i took full advantage of it, ending the day by popping in an exhibition, picking up some tulips, beer, and fresh baguette.  contentment plucks at my chest.

sidewalk decadence.

today i was walking along blvd st. germain when I suddenly heard a loud and familiar “POP!”  Turning my head I realized that a grungy man with impressively disheveled facial hair, sitting on the sidewalk next to a pile of rags, had just opened a bottle of champagne.  amazing.  I wondered if he had foie gras stashed in his rucksac.

a viscous river that never runs dry

so i’m sick for the first time since being in paris.  like sick with a cold sick.  runny nose, watery eyes, chest full of coughs . . . it’s awful.  and without the familiar comforts of home (ny-quil, puffs plus, mentholatum, hbo) i was feeling far far too sorry for myself.  but, this wintery affliction has become an opportunity to familiarize myself with the local pharmacist and the magic of french cold-care products (of which, admittedly, i’ve only discovered three).

my number one magical product was purchased on accident:  it was the only kleenex left on the shelf in my local grocery (which is in the process of moving to the other side of the block).  it’s green.  it comes in small portable packages.  IT’S INFUSED WITH EUCALYPTUS.  yes, minty, eucalyptus right in your tissue.  imagine this: you go to unhappily blow your miserable little nose - again - but right as you inhale in preparation to let loose your terrible trumpet you experience an amazing blast of cold, nose-clearing, minty goodness.  then, after you’ve concluded your nosey business you remove the tissue to find that your nose is now coated with a comfortable layer of minty aroma AS WELL AS skin-soothing magic.  that’s right, in addition to  leaving you with minty well-being, the tissue has “shea butter microbeads” to aid and prevent irritation.  these tissues are magical.  magical.  they’ve taken two of my american cold-care favs and combined them to make one super-mighty european cold-care product.

aside from the tissues that i swear must have been invented by very smart and very sick wizards, i discovered something less exciting.  after going to the pharmacy and asking for something “which can improve a cold” (my french is good enough to describe what i need, not good enough to ask for it in the proper way) i was handed fervex (i specified sugar-free).  it’s basically something like thera-flu: you dump this powder into your water (they recommend hot water for more serious symptoms) and twenty or so minutes later your head is happily cleared and you are happily sedated.  it doesn’t taste too bad, either.  lemony, even.

preventative measures: dissolving vitamin c (i asked for “vitamin c who one puts in water” - hahaha, my french is awesome).  the package says “vitamine c effervescente.”  it’s like if alka-seltzer and children’s chewable vitamin c had an overly sweet baby.  does the job, but for me it’s essential to drop the dissolving tab into lots and lots of water.  take it every day.  cold season is a bitch in paris.  the damp never goes away.

note: they keep all cold medicine behind the counter in france, so you can’t pick through a selection on your own - you have to know what you want or ask a pharmacist.

Sangria and a jukebox on a thursday night

Located on Rue de l’Odeon, underneath a sign bearing simply the number 10, rests one of the best bars I’ve occassioned in Paris.  Simply referred to as “le 10 Bar” the establishment opened its doors initially in 1955 - the only bar to serve sangria in paris at the time - was revamped and expanded in 1968 and hasn’t changed a thing since.  The walls are littered with early 20th c. lithographs, the benches are crowded and shine with red vinyl, the walls are yellow, the jukebox sports muddy waters, david bowie, van morrison, billie holiday, and the sangria is strong enough knock the socks of any local matador.

After French class last week I headed over to check it out with a school friend and her work colleagues.  Happily, the scene is rough enough to remind me of the Argus back home in San Francisco: comfortable, unpretentious, and pours a great drink.  After several pitchers i was nice and buttered (”beureé” as they say in France), missed the last metro, had to take a taxi home, and fell in bed contented with my introduction to this beautiful hole in the wall.

Naked Chest and Pink-rimmed glasses

Standard club ingredients:  loud techno, alternately tacky and interesting visual projections, menu of redbull cocktails (new in Paris), bored-looking skinny Parisian girls, and one club owner slipping through the crowd barefoot and half naked.  i’m convinced he had pectoral implants set over that soft belly.  Hair down to his waist and small pink bottle-cap glasses; watching him circulate through the crowd with a palpable air of entitlement was one of the highlights of the evening.

Last week Dustin’s company had visitors from the California office, so in showing them a proper time we finally made our way into paris for a night in the bastille.  In Paris the clubs are open until about four in the morning, a novelty for most American’s (myself included), so after a nice meal and a few bottles of wine at Cafe de l’Industrie we headed over to OPA Paris. The American visitors proceeded to buy shots of tequila for all (insanely expensive in France) and consequently we all became uncommonly drunk.  Ridiculous dancing, “i love you” moments with new friends, the courage to strike up conversations in french with strangers (i know i make less sense in french when i’m drunk then sober - meaning i’m completely incoherent), and eventually an adventure finding our way through the metro and seeking out a place to eat at 6am on a saturday.  The club turned out to be pretty fun, despite the sort of trendy overkill - plus we didn’t have to pay a cover, so that’s another point in its corner.

best drunken moment of the evening: dancing in the abandoned metro station to “are you man enough” blasting from my husband’s blackberry.  we got home at 9am.  I felt 21 again.  sometimes that’s a reaaaally good thing.

Green Green Warm Green

i haven’t been posting - mainly for two reasons: 1.  it’s been grey and depressing here for too long — being from california i’m used to a bit more sun in my winter and it’s been getting me doooooooown.  2. i have a ridiculous number of spam comments to sort through all the time, and don’t ever want to deal with it.  but if you need jewelry from russia - i’ve got a guy desperate to sell it to you.

but now - right now - the sun is shining and has been, beautiful.  the morning starts to feel like spring time mornings and i’m so ready for the world to be renewed, so ready to see this paris in spring clothes.  so ready for daffodils and leaves on trees and finding somewhere to hike near paris.  

not only am i just missing green and sun in general, but i’m missing these things from northern california!