An American in Paris

I have not had a Thanksgiving dinner in Paris yet. When I lived in NYC and came to Paris to avoid family, we could have a lovely meal but the idea of Thanksgiving was far from our minds. Last year was my first living here and I just ignored the holiday. This year I was planning to do the same, but my friend Christine was coming to dinner on the day and Helmut said, "well, if it is Thanksgiving, why don't we do Thanksgiving?" Well, hmm... ah... uhmm... I guess why not? Well, one reason of course is the Turkey. The bird is not eaten in Europe often, and we would have had to order it. Since we decided to do this the day before, I just don't think that is happening. Also, the meal would be a bit incomprehensible to a Frenchman. While theater, as we know it in NYC, is not really part of the culture here, dinner has taken its place. There are different "acts" (entrée, plat, fromage, dessert) and it is the entertainment for the evening. The free-for-all that is...

This post is for the music geeks out there. I have thought that moving to Europe would give me the ability to travel to various places more easily. I think that in the US, the "TRIP TO EUROPE" in capital letters and as many quotes as you can give it, is a right of passage and, for some, a once in a lifetime event. Literally. For me, Europe has always been a place I love to go. Years ago, I would come to Paris every Thanksgiving, both to avoid family and see a city I loved. Now, though, Paris is my home base and the entire continent is my oyster. There is something here called EasyJet: a small airline that charges less than 100 euros to get almost anywhere in Europe. Yes, you can only take one bag; yes, you are treated like cattle; yes, it is uncomfortable. In fact, I swear they try to make you suffer a bit. For instance, they always have stairs involved and curbs. You are required to have a carry-on back so you would think that ramps would be the thing. Noooo! Their termin...

We are struck again with terrorism. I guess this is the way of life. I have had the distinct fortune of being in NYC on 9/11 and Paris on 11/13. There have been attacks on other cities in other countries, but these have been personal. This time in Paris, though, it hit my home neighborhood, the 11th Arrondissement. On this Friday the 13th, Helmut, Laure and I were outdoors, having dinner at Chez Mamy , one of our favorite restaurants. We heard from the owner that there had been a shooting around the corner and they wanted us to move indoors. Helmut and Laure were both skeptical, but I immediately posted on Facebook that there were odd goings-on and I was safe, but still out and about. Having been through 9/11, I did not want to get caught and not be able to tell people I was OK. Laure began to panic and left us; she was almost in tears. I have checked with her and she is still very shaken by these events (the café was across the street from her apartment). It has been a little over...

Over the last weekend, Helmut and I got married. This is both much bigger and smaller than it seems, or at least it started out that way. Smaller, because the main reason for doing it was the paperwork: I am here as a tourist and I need to have more reason to be in Paris than being a tourist. It is bigger for me because marriage has never been on my radar, so it was never anything I aspired to. Helmut has been deep in this pool, and has had a very long relationship with a woman (3 children) but never married because he doesn't believe in marriage for anyone (too many benefits arbitrarily given to those within and withheld from those without the institution). So, even with this, we decided to do it. After we decided to do it, Helmut decided he wanted to have rings. Wow, that made it somehow bigger and more important. We decided to do this in NYC. France and Paris, specifically, love their paperwork. Since neither of us are French, we would have had to get our birth certifica...

I have learned that when you are living in a language that is not native to you, you must be flexible and make the most of the situation. I was having lunch with Helmut at our "gluten free" cafe. We call it that, not because it actually is gluten free, but when they first opened, they served everything with bulgar wheat. I mean everything. Yes, I know anything with wheat has gluten. Yes, I know that if they serve that they are not now, nor will be gluten free. Just go with it for now. Anyway, I don't always know every word of things when I order them, but for the most part I get the gist. As you probably realise, this can sometimes go awry. Like the time I was out with English speaking clients of Helmut. I saw a pavé on the menu. This has always been beef, so I told them so and the beef was always excellent. That night I found out that  pavé means filet. Many times that is beef; sometimes it is fish. Anyway, back to our Gluten Free lunch. I saw on the menu an item...

Lakewood, New Jersey was well past its prime by the time I became cognisant. It had had its heydays of being a Jewish resort and then the center of egg production during the second World War. The resort hotels were still there but barely hanging on, disappearing via an annual immolation (or so it seemed) and the dilapidated chicken coops were torn down when someone came up with a better use for the land. Even though we were about 20 minutes from the shore, the town latched onto the Jersey Shore connection for dear life and so my family did its civic duty and went to the beach. Every Sunday throughout the year we had our ritual but it was enhanced during the summer. We began with 9AM mass (which later got moved to 8:45 to accommodate traffic), which of course meant getting up at 7:30 to prep. This prep did not include breakfast (that was after mass) but showers, putting on our suits and getting to the church. We were always late, mostly because of my mother. She of course always blame...

This year we have taken the exodus from Paris with the rest of humanity. We are traveling to Italy in the stiletto of the country's boot; more or less, the end of the line for Italy. Because it is summer, we are eating, drinking spritzes in the afternoon and seeing cathedrals in old cities. For me, though, the most unusual aspect of this summer outing is going to the beach (for Helmut, this is a natural, even a requirement). For me, it is a an activity filled with dread at times. One takes one for the team sometimes. Having been brought up at the shore in New Jersey, I am used to very fine sand. Sure, there can be an area of slightly bigger gravel where the waves break, but mostly powder. This is a good thing since I have the most tender feet in the world. Not just I-take-care-of-my-feet tender (which I do not), but there-is-something-genetically-wrong-with-me tender. You would think this is something to envy, but believe me, it is not. I cannot walk on anything remotely rough o...

My  friend Joey graduated from Columbia this year. I could have gone to the ceremony, but instead, I am flying her to Paris for three weeks. She majored in architectural history, studied French for 2 years and has never been to Europe. I know! Could not have been a more obvious choice.  Joey is staying at the apartment of a friend of mine here, who is elsewhere on her own vacation. Joey is here alone to start and the boys (her husband Ben and their 10-year old son, Owen) will follow in about a week. I have a few things planned, but mostly time together. Joey and I stay in touch but we both miss our time together. When she was in school, we would have lunch every Thursday and mull over the issues of the day. This time in Paris is a joyous time for me; time to reconnect and to get closer. It has a touch of sadness as well. When this time is over, when will we be able to do this again? No, not for now. Now we will revel in the time we have.  Of course we have to see some of ...

I am currently on a "tourist" visa in France. That means that every three months, I need to exit the country and re-enter to go through customs. This seems to be standard procedure worldwide and I have heard the same routine for friends of mine in the US who are non-citizens. Helmut has been telling me that this is unimportant because I am an American who is not looking for support from the state and there should be no problem. I am always a bit leery when he says "should be" because there is no real recovery when this assumptions turns out to be off or plain wrong. As I started researching other more permanent solutions to the immigration issue, I see again and again that you should never overstay the 3-month limit and there are dire consequences throughout the EU if you do. I am now 3 weeks over my 3-months. Looks like it is time to take a trip.  I can go anywhere in the world that will stamp my passport, but I am running into a problem in that I don't want...

Today in Paris we are having the most stunning weather. Not a cloud in the sky, sunny, warm, an ever-so-slight breeze. If it were two degrees warmer it might be too hot but it is just right. I feel that the weather here is quite different than in NYC. It can be sunny and warm, and then cloud up and rain for ten minutes, then become windy and cold. If you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes. But today? Perfect. It is also the day Helmut has put together a cocktail party for my quilt. It is a celebration of my five year project. He has invited friends and some professionals, but no expectations. Just a moment to breathe and enjoy the accomplishment.  Tomorrow and the next day I have my first concerts with the Melomen, the gay chorus here in Paris. But that is in the future and I just want to enjoy my place here for the moment. If you are in Paris today and did not get an invite, forgive me and drop me a note. I will give you the info to come; I would love to see you. ...

Tonight we went to a little place in the neighborhood called Balls (http://www.ballsrestaurant.com). It is a very smart resto, having an extremely limited menu, namely meatballs. You choose the meat (pork, beef, chicken, vegetarian) the sauce (tomato or yoghurt) and the side ( polenta, risotto, salad or vegetables). Simple enough but definitely satisfying. It attracts a young after-work crowd and we have gotten to know the owners.  The usually have a special, so I looked on the menu, and it says: Balls du jour (voir ardoise) Now at this point, I am pretty good with food in French and I can usually figure out what the items are. Even if I don't know it specifically, I can at least figure out if it is poultry, fish or beef. This time I am at a complete loss.  "Helmut, what is voir ardoise ?" "Ardoise." This is Helmut's usual first volley when I ask the meaning of something: repeat the word. I am not sure if he thinks by repeating it I will understand it or if ...

Helmut had a job in Milan last week so even though I really could not afford the trip we spent Friday to Monday there together. I have never been, even though it contains the Mecca for any opera fan: the birthplace for many an opera and the artistic home of Maria Callas: La Scala. When we made the plan, I immediately got on the Internet and found two seats for their production of Turandot. So I was excited to discover this city.  Duomo The duomo here really is spectacular. I think they have gotten the right balance here, and please forgive me in advance. These churches especially in Italy are amazing museums of art. If the churches teachings are to be believed, and God is everywhere, they could (and do, I might add in some places) have mass in a gymnasium and forego the church entirely. Then they could charge admission to the well-lit, art-filled museum and be better off. Here they have the interior lit with museum quality lights far beyond what the original architects could have i...

Today is Saturday, so of course there are errands to run and things to do. I could do these any day of the week, but it always seems that these things get put off until Saturday. We are having lunch with Ann today and we want to serve strawberries since it is the season. Ann is a friend/work associate of Helmut and she is going through cancer treatment. I can relate. She was out of the woods, but then things got a bit hairy and the cancer came back with a vengeance. She can't work but she is ironing shirts for us for a bit of pocket money. It addresses a big problem I have here with services here in Paris. In NYC, as I have mentioned, I call up the cleaners, I give them 2 bags of laundry and they return shirts on hangars and laundry in the bag. Nice setup. Nothing like that here, but it seems everyone has someone "come in" to do cleaning and pressing. This seems to work out and so Ann will be coming in to help us. Since she is not "help" nor a close friend, we a...

Historically, France and specifically Paris, have always favored dance. Every opera in the late 19th century had to have a ballet. If it didn't have one in the German or Italian versions, the French would make them put one in. Yes, even Wagner was forced to add a ballet to Tannhäuser. So it should not have been too shocking to find that at parties in Paris there is always dancing. It shouldn't but it was. If there are 10 people or less at a dinner party you are safe but once you hit critical mass, which I would say is about 25 or so, you will not be able to escape it. And I do mean escape. Here I am at a party.  And this is after politely saying no, then insisting no, then saying ABSOLUTELY NO.  You may wonder what is the problem? I love partner dancing. In fact, I spent the better part of 5 years dancing 2-step every Saturday night. The idea of basic steps and then variations from those steps appeals to me and I am good at it. There is something, though, t...

Today, hopes and dreams died. I think many of you are thinking that a few months in a country, like France, where they speak another language and you would be conversing like a native. Maybe with an accent that everyone in that country finds charming, but have total command. Even people I know who should know better have said to me, "well, by summer you should be pretty fluent." Humph. So, today, I am talking to Helmut and he is trying to write a texto (that is an IM on his phone) and he says, "Oh, where is my French. You know, sometimes my brain just doesn't want to speak French." He continues, to tell me that since it is not his mother-tongue, sometimes the brain just doesn't function and you can't communicate. This is coming from someone who has been here for 25-30 years. Oh, no. I know at this point, speaking French is sometimes easy and sometimes it is just hard work and sometimes you feel like a complete idiot. " Je ...(just want to speak...

My friend Paul wrote to me today and told me that I had not written on my blog for quite some time. He's not wrong. I think what is happening is that Paris is become the new norm for me. I don't see exciting changes to my life at every turn because this has become my life. There is absolutely a change in how the Parisians react to me as well. For instance, the man in our local convenience store used to speak to me in English, no matter how I spoke to him. Now he only speaks to me in French. A slight change but important. I was in a kitchenware store and when I checked out, they wanted to enroll me in a promotion. He turned to me and said, "You live here, don't you?" (in French of course). Bien sûr! I am not sure what they are reacting to, but it feels right to me. I was also stopped and asked directions once. Now, for those who know me, this is strange since I can get lost in my hometown, but in this case, I knew what to tell her! Wow. The language is lagging ...

Today was Pollution Day, and I'm not quite sure how to celebrate. Or maybe it's not a celebration at all. Let me explain. There was a lot of pollution, so the metro decided to make entry free the entire weekend. Free. That means the air quality is terrible, but you get to ride the Metro for free. Now does one celebrate the situation or does one mourn it? I can see Hallmark getting involved in the near future, but it hasn't happen yet. So, is it "Happy Pollution Day," or is it "I feel terrible, it's Pollution Day..." I wonder how often this happens. And who decides this? Is it the President? Other governing bodies? Does the Metro system use this to hurt or embarrass another department? How often does this happen? I have so many questions. In any case, Happy Pollution Day.

Coming home to Paris after my visit to NYC, I have some observations that are new. I went to Zabar's and of course nothing is new there. An old staple that ages gracefully. But, across the street, they tore down a building. And as usual, I can't remember what was there. I am sure I loved it, but it is gone now. A grand high-rise will, I am sure, replace it, but whatever was there is gone. How I will miss it. Whatever it was. I remember (or at least I think I do) when the Empire State Building began lighting the top. It was very exciting. Then, a number of years later, they began to add colors. Then they changed the colors for the specific event of the day. I remember being very excited when they changed the color to purple for Gay Pride day. This time, I am driving in from the airport and it is pulsing red. Pulsing. I asked the cab driver when this happened. "Oh, a while ago now." We aren't happy with a large, colored phallus in the city? Now it has to pul...

People have asked me to write something about food shopping and grocery stores in Paris. Since France is such a "food" country, people probably have the impression that food shopping is somehow elevated. For the longest time, I wasn't sure what to write, since for the most part, food shopping here feels like food shopping everywhere else. Corporate food companies create a nice space, shelves, produce, milk, eggs... you know, normal. But, of course, ultimately, you start to notice differences. So, I show you my favorite Monoprix in my neighborhood. Nice, right? Yes, clean, beautiful to look at, lots of products. There are 2 Monoprix's in the area and the other one is sort of a normal, ordinary store but this one is really very nice. There is even a microwave and a seating area, so you can get lunch and sit down and eat it. It is sort of a combo of a grocery store and a Prêt À Manger lunch place (which, by the way, is a British company). The store is really divi...

Here I go again, traveling back to the U.S. and NYC in particular. As usual, I have mixed feelings about this. I had a real bout of homesickness a few weeks ago. I have also found from past experience that going "home" when you feel that is probably the worst thing you can do. Fortunately, I am pretty much over that and can comfortably do the trip without clutching at the taxi door on the return to the airport.  This trip has two main objectives. The first is to pick up the fabric I already own for the quilt. When I did my initial move, I brought the one-inch squares I had already cut for the quilt (which was an extensive amount). But of course I have quickly run through those. I am currently creating one block a day. That may not sound like much, but there are 80 squares in a block and it takes me a concentrated 1 1/2 hours to do that. I say concentrated because it is so easy to check mail, answer a text message, have a cup of tea and have 3 hours rush by. I could repurchase...

Unlike many languages, French has a "learned body on matters pertaining to the French language," (from Wikipedia) called the Académie française or the French Academy. In the 60s and 70s, they were very strong and definitely was not letting those foreign words creep into their language. No sir. Well, something has happened. Maybe they are all dead (and no one checked), but French is becoming rampant with English words. I always get a laugh when I hear a new one.  One of the reasons French can be difficult is because one of the basic objectives of the language is to sound good. Unlike English and German, sounding good is all part of the show. There are things called liaisons that link the end of one word with the beginning of the next, to make it sound better. For instance, the word for "man" is homme (sounds like "home" without the h). Make it plural and it becomes les hommes  (pronounced "lay z 'ome"). The Z sound is there because it s...

As you know, I had a bit of difficulty getting a bank to accept my money here in Paris. Never before have I gone into an establishment and had them ask me why I wanted to do business with them. Nevertheless, I eventually did get my account here. Since it is the same bank as I have in NYC, transferring money back and forth is very easy. So late last week, I got a call from my representative at the bank. This is not going to be obvious to any of you, but I live in fear of phone calls from French people. It is one thing to have a conversation with someone in another language when you are face to face. You can see their faces, sense their changing moods, interpret their hand gestures. All of that helps in communication. On the phone, you have nothing but your vocabulary and ability to hear. Also, there are niceties that are just accepted in the language that, as a foreigner, one just don't know. In English, a phone call may go something like this: "Hello?" "Oh, hi, ...

i am definitely into a new phase of my life here in Paris. When I first arrived as a tourist, I was definitely in love with everything French and Parisian. How wonderful the food, how beautiful the city, lovely, lovely, lovely. When I met Helmut and was visiting every two weeks or so, I loved everything that I was in contact with. I loved the neighborhood, the people I met were lovely, loved speaking the language, loved the new restaurants, love, love, love. Then I had my down moment I just wrote about . Now I still love this place and the people I have met are terrific, but I am definitely want what I want and I am tired of changing. When I made cookies here over the holidays, I was trying to use all French products. Now? Bring on the imports. I want smoked salmon and cream cheese. Not creme fraiche, not fromage blanc; cream cheese. I want milk in the refrigerator, peanut butter, brown sugar, molasses, chocolate chips, cranberry juice. I want oatmeal, boxed cereal, sandwiches for lu...

OK, you are going to laugh at me for this one. I have been having an identity crisis. Sort of. It started about a week ago. I saw an article on Facebook, entitled " 4 Ways Living Abroad Changes You Forever ."(It is linked on the title, even though this layout doesn't show it to you.) Anyway, I read it and it said how wonderful it is to live abroad (away from the country you call home). I found it interesting and it stuck with me. For a while. Too long. You see, it says that along with it being a broadening experience, the place where you were begins to close behind you, like an electronic door. And while you are out experiencing new things, the place where you were begins to forget you and everyone gets on with their lives. Well, that started to sink in. I know, you are thinking, "Well, what did you expect?" but when it begins to happen to me, it gives me pause. I have my identity tied in with being a New Yorker. I have often said that I felt more a New York...

I want to state right up front that I stand with my French brothers and sisters for free speech and freedom of the press. I condemn what happened at Charlie Hebdo and I hope and pray that something like this never happens again. Having said that I cannot in all good faith say, "I am Charlie." For those who don't know, Charlie Hebdo is a satirical publication that delights in poking at the establishment. There is a need for this kind of humor and people who delight in poking at the bear. They help us laugh at ourselves and put a spotlight on hypocrisy. I also understand that we all feel a bit protected and do not expect the kind of ruthless violence that occurred, especially when we are dealing with humor or just the written word. I am not sure if the writers at Charlie Hebdo expected what happened. It is a terrible tragedy. But now we know what may happen. We have seen a ruthless people and the organisations that spawned them who now hold up these outlaws as saints an...

Today was a terrible day in Paris. Terrorists entered a left leaning paper and with a machine gun, killed 12 people and injured another 10, then got away. It was in my neighborhood, about a 5 minute walk. People here were upset, worried, nervous, angry. I am living here with these people, sharing their anger and worry. I think it is intensified by echos of another day in NYC. Helmut heard the news before I did. I was a bit shocked and confused. What happened? Why did this happen? As in NYC on 9/11, it took me a bit to comprehend this. I wasn't sure if the danger still existed or if the killing was over. Was this an accident? Crazy person? No, terrorism. Ah. I spent the rest of the day quietly at home. On 9/11 everyone in NYC remembers the weather. It was one of those early fall days when the temperature is perfect and not a cloud in the sky. I remember telling Helmut about the weather that day and that people refer to it as 9/11 weather. He used the term the next day, to descri...

There is a very interesting phenomenon that happens in Paris twice a year and I have experienced it both times. In the summer (last 2 weeks of August) and Christmas, the city shuts down almost entirely and it is very interesting to watch. I sometimes think that calling NYC the "city that never sleeps" is wrong. NYC sleeps every day, but if you want to be awake or get a coffee or buy a bagel, you can get it. I often think that title should be relinquished to Las Vegas (which also deserves "Sin City" ahead of NYC). But by comparison to Paris, NYC is as awake as an insomniac. Paris, on the other hand, sleeps nightly and on these two calendar events, goes into hibernation. First is the prelude. You start seeing some notices about 2 weeks before the closures when stores will be closed. But sometimes you see nothing. The locals know it is about to happen and begin to prepare. You buy non-perishables, you get the wine in advance. You get a little extra cheese to hold yo...