Birthday

A picnic with my classmates by the canal. Stunningly beautiful day. We shared food and songs in the grass by the boats. Nationalities represented: French, Italian, Portuguese, Bolivian, English-Iraqi, English-Irish, Canadian, Colombian.

Now, the great thing about celebrating with all these cultures, is I get to hear about all these other birthday traditions. For example my Bolivian friend tells me that once everyone has sung Happy Birthday, the birthday girl or boy has to "bite the cake" ("bite it, bite!" would be the chant translated). The key of course is to sneak in your bite before your friends get to do this:

A perhaps more elegant addition to the birthday festivities comes from my Greek classmate who sang me the greek birthday song- which is not at all like the one we know. Different tune and everything. But I love it- more like a wish or a blessing for one's life than a celebration of the single day:

May you live a long life

and grow old

with white hair.

May you grow wise

and wherever you are

spread the light of wisdom

that everyone may say, there

is a wise person.

A rough translation. I know everybody scoffs at the white hair bit, but it sounds like a lovely eventuality to me. I'd rather embrace aging on a day that marks it than fear or mock it. Certainly has the potential for a lifelong mindshifting.

Thank you all, family and friends old and new for sending me so much love and good wishes on my birthday. I am indeed a very lucky girl.

La Recolte

Making myself at home in the shared courtyard. Here is my journaling corner for the afternoon (access through the window):

And following the example of a little girl and her grandmother I said hello to here last week, today I went hunting for chestnuts. Here is my harvest:

Now, marrons glacees? or roasted? Though maybe I should first verify they're edible. As I look into it, I see horse chestnuts are in fact poisonous... thank you, thorough research.

Apartment Found

The apartment search was dizzying. This shot is from halfway down one of my visits. We all knew Paris likes to keep things small- cafe tables, portions, cars, roads, waistlines and kitchens- for those who remember my last one, among other things. But I still couldn't help but be shocked at the 9m sq 'chambre de bonne' (maid's room) I went to visit. Somehow in these 9m the owner had managed to fit a washing machine, fridge, dishwasher, sink, counter, bunk beds for 2, and a bathtub! These left so little room that even I, small though I may be, felt like I was crowding myself while standing alone. So the lovely little dream of living for the first time completely on my own in a cute little room in the attic of an old parisian building, overlooking rooftops- was not to be.

Instead I have found a lovely ground-floor apartment in the 17e arrondissement. Very close to my friends and not far from the Sacre Coeur. I share it with a young french actor who is absolutely darling. It still won't seem big to most of my American readers, but my bedroom is large enough to walk across and the kitchen has a table that seats 6.

Major selling points:

The building's private courtyard you walk through to come in (my window is on the left)

The typically french window (which I do continue to romanticize) in my bedroom. I have twice now been teased as Juliette.

The fabulous park 2 blocks away that has this, the most awesome carousel I've ever seen. Pigs, flying cars, real bicycles stuck on from who knows where and a perfectly too-big operator. I hope it runs all year.

Fashion's Night Out

Une vraie soiree. Apparently I arrived just in time for this Vogue event that takes place in NY, London, and Paris on the same night each year. The idea, as I've been made to understand is that the big Fashion Houses where normally those who can't afford are frowned on at the door, instead open their doors to the general public (well, by invitation only found in your september copy of Vogue magazine) and then they serve us lots of champagne on black trays while we wander around gazing at dresses we could never buy. The crowds on the sidewalk are crazy of course- everyone cramming at the doors to get a glimpse of the various famous people making appearances. Everyone in their best ensemble (the atrocities people get themselves in to in the name of fashion- my goodness). And then of course bouncers editing the entrance. But we had uproarious fun, thanks primarily to my very in-the-know hosts Aoife and Maria Jose who eyed their way in for us to two otherwise closed or over-crowded doors.

We walked away having tasted fine horsd'oeuvres, followed by a delicate fleurs-d'orangier macaron and a complimentary bottle of the first scent by Elie Saab whose dresses we oggled- truly things of beauty and elegance. I also accepted a free manicure at Chloe.

My nails are a lovely clementine today.

So nous voila, les filles, a la fete:

It might not look like I'm having fun, but I am- I just have my model face on.

Return to Paris

In my first week here I have often opted to walk to my various destinations, often leading to welcome detours where I found myself on a funny little hidden street or one I once knew very well (as along the canal St Martin above). Here I am surprised to feel like perhaps I never actually left. So little has changed, I might have last lived here only a month ago. And so I take a moment to wonder in what ways I have changed and cannot help but feel I have been myself forever.

Something new, apres tout. Locks- of love it would seem based on their sharpie inscriptions, along the Pont des Arts.

Painter in the 6th. I am waiting for a crepe as I steal this shot.

Follow the rules. On the Quay de la Seine.

La Seine

Lunch in Montreal

So, you know, on my way to Paris I just thought I might stop over and have lunch in Montreal. Why not? Fortunately my travel plans had accidentally obliged accordingly. Just as I was taking off I got a phone call from Itzel to tell me she would pick me up and we took it from there. So rather than a grueling 5 hr stint in the Montreal airport waiting for my transatlantic, I traipsed about a very sunny Montreal with Andrew and Itzel, meandering along the canal, having lunch at the market- life is short, eat dessert first- and so we did: pistachio, caramel burnt maple, and pear sorbet ice cream. Then a little jaunt to Kaira's preschool where she showed me toy microphones to inspire future stardom. We made squirting noises over an empty bottle of ketchup then spent a long and diligent time carefully cleaning up with a broom the invisible ketchup that had then of course splurted on the floor. Here we are running back down the 'mountain' outside to the car.

Only slightly nerve-wracking traffic on my way to make my connecting flight in a surprisingly forgiving amount of time (despite an emergency roadside pee break demanded from the carseat rider). And then, a quick jaunt across the pond...