An American in Paris

I am all for doing what we can to save the environment and the French are behind this as well. There is recycling in every home and on the street there are kiosks to recycle glass bottles (think wine). While in class over the summer at the Alliance Française, I came across something that was literally unbelievable. In fact, I had the teacher replay the video we were watching because I thought I could not possibly have understood it properly. Please understand that I am not making this up. It seems that after dinner, if you have food left over, instead of storing it in the refrigerator, you take a photo and put the picture on the web. Then, others can look at your leftovers and if they like what they see, they can come to your house and pick it up. Think about that. I can't picture myself on either side of this equation. I am now done with my Tai chen chicken. Let me take a picture of this and hope a stranger comes to my door to pick up these leftovers! or I'm hungry. ...

New Yorkers accept everyone. You can arrive on day one and, if you say you are a New Yorker, people believe you. In Paris, if you haven't been here for 4 generations, you better not say you are a Parisian. There is a loophole. You can say you are an adopted Parisian (Parisian adopté). So, as a Parisian adopté, you need some essentials: a phone, a place to live and a bank account. Most important of these is the bank account. In New York, I think credit cards are more important. You can get by on one and pay for just about everything. In Paris, very few people have credit cards in that way. Instead, they rely on debit cards, and they are much more secure. Every establishment has a portable wifi machine at checkout, or at a restaurant they bring to you. They put in the amount you are to pay in manually, you put in your card (with a CHIP that US citizens do not have, more on that later) and you type in your 4-digit code and press Enter. If accepted, the machine prints our your receip...

Everyone in Paris smokes. EVERYONE! It is kind of bizarre for me. Think back to the movies taking place in the 1960s. That kind of smoking. First thing in the morning, mid morning smoke, of course after every meal, at intermission, before bed. Everyone seems to have a 5 year plan to quit because they don't want to be "that old person who smokes," Yet, I don't think anyone will every do this. Sure, they have all the warnings about smoking on the packs. They even have really ugly pictures of people deformed by smoking. I think some people when in the Tabac (Tobacco shop) ask for another pack if the pictures are too gruesome. But they sure do buy them! Getting cigarettes is also a type of outing and a way some people get some fresh air. Helmut doesn't buy a carton, but goes out once a day or so to get the cigarettes. They do have the vapor cigarettes ( vapeur ), those faux cigarettes that have water vapor instead of smoke. For some reason, they are not allowed to...

In New York we have many great restaurants and certainly some lovely dessert places. There is really no comparison though to the number and quality of the bakeries here in Paris. No matter where you are, a patisserie (sweet) or boulangerie (bread) is very close by. There are some that do not bake on premises but the ones that do, depending on the time of day, will have that heavenly smell of baking bread. Even the ones that do not (and the French have a distain for these) the bread is simply wonderful.  Strangely, you can buy American-style sandwich bread but I have never seen anyone buy it. I hope I never do.  When making something like stuffing or bread pudding, you are asked quite often for day-old bread. I realize now that this is just a concept in the States. With French bread, it is as if there is a magic spell that lasts just about 24 hours. After that, it is so hard you can hammer nails with it.  As many people before me have stated, this is absolutely something t...

It is kind of strange to me how similar life is in Paris compared to New York. Both are cities that are very urban. Both have inhabitants who are mostly pedestrians, use public transit, especially the Metro/Subway, socialize in public (as opposed to private homes). Each city is the most important in the respective country and is a cultural center. I think the most important similarity of the two is the pride of place for the citizens. Each is VERY proud of their city and could not imagine living anywhere else. Having made it in that city, there is very little idea of moving back to wherever they came from. We made it here! Also, strangely, there is also the fact that people who live in other parts of the country hate the people in these cities. And the citizens don't care, in fact are proud of the fact. Now, instead of going to the Met (opera), I go to l'Opèra. Instead of going to the Met Museum, I go to the Louvre. I still go to the stores in the neighborhood for groceries, ...

So, how did this happen? Let's just say that 2013 was a bitch of a year. Before this, I had a good job, a good relationship of 15 years, friends, an amazing apartment (1400 sq ft on the upper west side of Manhattan), three loving cats. A very nice, comfortable life. Then the year starts. I got pneumonia, then cancer (6 weeks of radiation and chemo: a bitch, but I am fine now), lost my job, my mother and my relationship. Friends I had for 15 years "sided" with my ex (really? how old are we?) and they are gone. It all seemed to happen at once. I thought of it like a cleansing bonfire. At every step, I thought, "OK, what next?" and let it all happen. At the end, the only thing left was my apartment. Then, in May of this year, my friend, Paul G., called me and told me he was doing an apartment exchange in Paris (one of my favorite cities in the world) and he invited me to come along. I jumped at the chance. Why not? 6 weeks in a city I love, in a great season (s...

An American in Paris I am not really a writer. Sure, like many of us I have written papers in school (most of which I would be embarrassed by today) and we all write emails, but sitting down to share ideas is a bit outside my realm. Having said that, I wanted to share a unique experience. At the age of 58, this lifetime New Yorker has left that life behind and has begun a new life in Paris. Oh boy! Let's see what happens.