the long way home . . .

It’s 7:58 a.m. and I have just returned home from a night of “clubbing” and am wide awake. Charles (a Parisian in the group tonight) has told me that when they were kids living in the Paris suburbs, they would ride the metro in, have dinner until midnight, have a drink at a bar until 2, move onto the nightclub until 6 at which point they would go out for a café and breakfast. Then the metro starts up again at 7 a.m. and they would return home avoiding the expense of the short taxi ride. On this particular night, we started with 10 and ended with 3 – myself and two Scots. Around 6, when Charles would normally go out for a café and breakfast, alternatively, Stewart, Duncan and I stopped by Duncan’s flat, grabbed a blanket to sit on, a bottle of wine to drink and left for a park to watch the sun rise over the Eiffel tower. Granted I missed the actual sunrise as I just "happened" to rest my eyes at the same time the sun came out - but the night as a whole seemed everlasting, refreshing and magical. It is just now after returning from this night that I realize I must send you an entry that I was about to toss. It is an entry that strays from my normal mishaps and misfortunes --- but is more descriptive and I think important for you to experience as well. So here is the story that almost did not make it to you.

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I thought today I would immerse you further into the Parisian culture. I will try to include a funny story or two, but mostly I want to describe what it is like to live within one of the most beautiful cities in the world. A city where at every corner you are stunned by a building, statue or monument towering over you. A city in which people live amongst history ancient and precious . . . and a city that does not require you to travel 5,000 miles to try and capture the magic in seven short days in a hot summer week.

To best describe the feeling of this city, I will tell you about last Wednesday, when I took the long way home.

To be honest with you, I went into my first museum only yesterday. I know, it seems crazy but when I was here 15 years ago, I think I crammed 10 museums in 3 days. This time around, I am trying to experience Paris through the eyes of someone really living here and not just en vacances. Sure I will return to Le Louvre or explore the Cluny – and the musee de Picasso I saw yesterday was marvelous (not only his life’s work, but the building that housed them), but for today, this is my story of a day in the life.

The good thing about living in a place the size of an American bathroom is that you do not ever want to be in it, so I spend little time at home. Usually I am outside wandering around, getting lost and loving it. On a typical day I leave my flat about 8:30 a.m. I cross the street to the Montgallet metro and ride the 10 stops to my school. After departing from the Grand Boulevard station, I take a couple of winding turns and step into my favorite boulangerie. My favorite order is une viennoise. It is similar to a baguette filled with miniature chocolate chips, yet the bread is dense and hearty – and often still warm from the oven. It is very normal to see Parisians everywhere walking with their tarte au fromage, baguette or pain au chocolat in the morning slowly peeling back the delicate tissue wrapping, taking small bites as they walk rapidly to work. A Parisian block is not long, maybe 5 buildings per block, but I promise, rather guarantee, that on each block you will find at least one café, brasserie and boulangerie. On every other block you will find a charcuterie, a fruit and vegetable marché, and perhaps a wine or chocolate shop.

What you NEVER see is a Parisian walking with a latte. NEVER. While it is socially acceptable to eat your breakfast (as long as it was purchased from a fresh boulangerie and not the “Quick” or “McDonald’s”) it is not acceptable to carry a drink. To do this would not only instantly label you as a foreigner, but will expose you to many stares or shall I say glares and probably attract pickpockers, etc.

Instead, of the portable latté, you pop into your favorite café, stand at the bar and order your café or your café crème (should you require something milder since a café is really just one shot of espresso). You can also sit down, but that is for those with extra time and is a bit more expensive. The size of a café is only a few sips so most workers have time to pop in and have their morning fix before heading into the office. Perhaps because we have taken the shot of espresso and added 4 cups of steamed milk in our Venti cup that we find it necessary to drink the American latte on the go otherwise we would never arrive for the dreaded morning meeting on time. (By the way, conveniently, many of the morning cafés turn into the evening bars, thus it is not uncommon to visit them twice per day - once on the way to work and once on the way home for a biere.)

After my brief stop at the boulangerie or café, I walk the remaining blocks to school. Around 11 a.m. we stop for a quick “pose” or break. Often a few students and I pop out again to the boulangerie for a sandwich crudité. (Baguette filled with tomatoes, brie, eggs, cucumber and so forth . . .). Then back to school until 1:30.

Believe it or not we are always starved after school, but not for the boulangerie, rather for the afternoon meal or dejeuner. Between 2 and 4 we head off to a street side café. Excellent people watching and food. I had the most marvelous salad exotique on this particular day. It was comprised of fresh greens, thinly sliced chicken, fresh mango, cashews, hearts of palm, tomatoes and corn. It was lightly dressed with a mild mixture of oil and lemon. It was fabulous!

After a lovely lunch with my friend, Lill-Anne, I did not feel like stopping at home for my afternoon nap before dinner. Starting in the 9th arrondisement, I walked south toward the Seine and found myself in front of Notre Dame. I have walked by many chapels and cathedrals in Paris and none are more impressive than Notre Dame. Just on the other side of the Seine is the Latin Quarter, filled with Mediterranean food delights. But on this day, I continued east walking past the river side merchants vending freshly painted water colors and came upon Pont Neuf, one of the oldest bridges if not the oldest here in Paris. Captivated by Pont Neuf I chose to walk past it, taking the next Pont so that I could capture it on film for you.



I realize now on this warm Spring afternoon, that I have been wandering for hours and perhaps I should take the stairs on the next corner that descend into the Metro station. Paris is brilliant, although I carry a pocket map wherever I go, it is easy yet impossible to get lost. If you are lost you only need to pop into the closest Metro to navigate your way back to your home station. But this day, my knee was strong, the sun was shining and although I did not want to wear my iPod (because it was important to immerse myself in all of the senses), as usual I had the appropriate soundtrack playing in my head the whole way home.

Forgoing, the metro I continued forward on foot. After crossing the Pont I was again North of the Seine, now in the 4th arrondisemnet and peut-etre (perhaps) my favorite. This area is called Le Marais, a very old and quaint arrondisement and also Paris’ predominately gay neighborhood. The streets are more narrow and windy here and are full of the best boutiques of Paris as well as many outdoor cafes occupied by the “beautiful people” dressed to the nines and perfectly coiffed. I discovered the musee de Picasso in Le Marais among other treasures including Place des Vosages, an enclosed city park.

Before we continue on my journey, I must describe the many jardins tucked away, hidden deep in the city. Just when you think you have not seen a lawn, a tree, a flower or any sort of plant for days, you come across a gated park, plush, and perfectly manicured full of vegetation. (It is typical for the French to cut off the tops of their trees so they are perfectly groomed, but this sight is most disagreeable to me as I find something strange about trees with flat tops.) In these secret gardens, I love to sit with a hot crepe avec beurre and sucre - on the iron bench near the fountain and watch the children race their sailboats as I often do in the Jardin du Luxemborg. My favorite secret garden is Jardin des Palais Royal. It is less visited than the others, as I think perhaps it is hard to find. Rather than being enclosed by tall iron gates, you will find it hidden behind the four walls of the immense Palais Royal.

Michael, “the substitute” asked us to describe our favorite place in Paris without naming it, thus allowing the other students to guess the location. An excellent exercise for writing as well as diction. Alors, here is my paragraph – describing the Palais Royal.

Dehors il y a de grands immeubles et un batement. Aussi on y trouve beaucoup de magasins des bijoux dans une rue active. Mais dedans, on trouve que c’est très tranquil. Il y a une exposition temporaire d’art mordernne. Quelquefois il y a des enfants qui jouent mais comme d’habitude c’est un bon lieu pour lire et être tranquille. Avec des arbres il y a des lampadaires allumes et on y trouve des bancs en metals pour s’asseoir et réfléchir. Quand on le quitte, on revient a la realitie.

And now as I exit the park on this Wednesday and return to reality as described in my French entry, I moved onward toward home. I saw dusk rapidly approaching and realized if I wanted to avoid the metro I must continue forward briskly. After the Marais, I admittedly got turned around. Just as I was going to take out my pocket map (indispensable for both the tourist and the local), I turned the next corner only to see a tall skinny monument in the middle of a roundabout. Mais oui, c’est le Bastille! The Bastille was just the landmark I needed to orient myself to the proper direction for the last hour home. That is how Paris is designed - one minute you are admist the magnificent buildings influenced by M. Haussmann and the next minute you stumble across the Eiffel Tower, Le Louvre, Hotel De Ville, Le Bastille, the Pantheon or Les Invalides. It is impossible to cross more than two streets without seeing a structure that makes you awestruck time and time again.

On y va! (Let us go on!) Next I have turned onto a busy boulevard full of fruit and vegetable stands, wine shops, lots of “fake/discount” shoe shops – oh and the occasional homeless person. (Side note – I actually just moved from the 12th to the 10th so now I am lucky enough to be in the ghetto and get to pass by the prostitutes as well. C’est la vie.) Just un more kilometer and I am home. Glancing at the clock on my cellphone (as I am no longer wear my watch – partly because I am trying to stray from the habit of monitoring time and partly because I lost it on my first day in Paris), I see that it is now 7:30 p.m. Wow – 6 hours had passed since I had left school. It is exhilarating to walk like this – and I do it every day – ok – not the marathon everyday, but on average I probably walk 3 hours a day in total if not much more.

As I close into home, I pick up some fruit, a baguette and a bottle of wine from the many markets in my neighborhood. Mark my word, upon my return to the States, I will purchase one of the rolling carts that is essential to every Parisian’s life, used to cart groceries and goods from the many varieties of markets. Of course at home, I will fill it with purchases from Target and Whole Foods – although I have a feeling, American security will not like me filling the bag prior to purchasing the goods as they do here instead of pushing around an enormous shopping cart. Oh well.

As I arrived home, I only just removed my shoes when I received an SMS (text message) informing me that the usual suspects were meeting on Rue de Lappe – a lively pedestrian street full of bars and cafes. Ok – this time I took the metro.



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If you recall, this story began with sunrise at the Eiffel tower. Recently, I stumbled quite literally onto the Eiffel tower at sunset just prior to meeting a friend at a nearby brasserie. I had not even realized I was in the same arrondisement - but there it was just as the sky was turning a deep rouge. Suddenly 10,000 lights began twinkling, illuminating the tower - and the moon was full, larger than I have ever seen. Still in awe, I met my friend and we walked back toward to her flat. A few blocks later we came upon a building with a breathtaking gold dome reflecting off the moonlight. Les Invalides – Napoleon’s tomb. I asked my friend who has been here for 7 years if she still noticed buildings like Les Invalides. She replied that she preferred the 1 hour walk home than the 15 minute metro ride metro for this very reason.

I think perhaps this is my longest entry – and I realize not my typical collection of mishaps, but it was important for me to share with you the spirit of daily life here in Paris as I believe the beauty and vitality of this city is the driving part of the core of every Parisian. It is the sound of the market vendors, the feel of wind tunnel as you go underground, the smell of a cafe, the taste of the croissant, and the sight of the grandest monuments in the world – it is this feeding off the city that feeds your personal vitality.

Although Paris has awakened my senses, at this stage in my life it has also separated me further from the typical American lifestyle. I admit I often have similar experiences on a sunny day walking down Pearl Street mall in Boulder or pedaling to the Holcomb’s for a home-cooked meal, but I have not allowed these experiences to encompass my entire life as they do here in Paris. How can they when 50 – 70 hours per week is expected in our jobs? When we are on call 24/7? When we are coerced into coming home, heating up dinner, passing out in front of the TV by 8 and in bed by 10 with exhaustion? When we are too tired for friends and too lazy for walking. I love my home, and I love Paris for allowing me to recognize how I should not only love my home, but enjoy my home. Next time I need to get from Baseline to Mapleton, or from Old Columbia Pike to Sea Change Lane, or from Madison Avenue to Queen Anne, I will take the long way home.

Bon nuit,

b.

(Stay tuned for next week’s entry as mon amie Rachel et moi traveled to Chambord the largest chateau in all of France – and trust me it was full of mishaps! How else would a 20 km bike ride turn into 75 km?)