Breathing Space

Paris' tiny streets are crowded with people pushing over-sized Maclaren strollers and walking pampered dogs. Bicycles and motorcycles weave between nervous cars, while pedestrians elbow each other to make it to the bus or métro. When they can't take it anymore, they all flee to the seaside or mountains, where the sand and slopes are dotted with the same crowds left behind in Paris. 

Dieu merci for Southern California. Even with more and more land being swallowed up by cookie-cutter houses and malls, there's enough wiggle room for everyone to breathe in her skinny jeans.   

Sarah Jessica Parker and Kim Cattrall as Carrie Bradshaw and Samantha Jones. [DVD screenshot] 2000.

Home

There's no French equivalent to "home," except maybe, chez moi, but the sense of unconditional belonging is lost: chez moi is temporal.
In French, a homing pigeon is a pigeon voyageur, or traveling pigeon. The home base idea doesn't seem to be important.
Perhaps France is too small a country for people to feel disoriented enough to need an abosolute home. They can go chez les parents or chez les beaux-parents or chez les cousins whenever they like.
They don't have to subtract nine hours every time they dial "home" or fly twelve hours to get there.
But then they don't have the promise of "home" either.

Vivien Leigh as Katie Scarlett O'Hara. [Online image] 1939.

"Magique Pour Tous"

Holiday magic may be for the kids, but it's we adults who need it most. And the French seem quite all right with indulging us.

They might not be into hanging up stockings over the fireplace, but they let us sprinkle santons of miniature lambs and pumpkin-carrying ladies on top of our grown-up meubles. And though making gingerbread houses isn't very big here, it's totally acceptable to spend an evening trying to turn a chocolate cake into a snow-covered log.

Giant Santas and reindeer might be scarce in the City of Lights, but parents will stop to look at winter scenes of dancing princesses and twitching rabbits in store windows or at the glittering strands of lights that guide shoppers to rues commerçantes like stars.

Natalie Wood and Maureen O'Hara as Susan and Doris Walker. [Online image] 1947.

My "Jardin Secret"

As educational as people-watching can be--and as incontournables as cultural sites like the Louvre and Pompidou are--, the real delight when living in Paris is finding a spot that seems to belong to you alone. When you turn a corner in the Marais and come across a quiet courtyard where no motos or English twangs can be heard, you suddenly feel like you and Paris share a delicious secret.
Walk down a crowded park's ivy-covered steps into a deserted garden, and you'll feel as triumphant as the Tatin sisters must have felt upon tasting their first upside-down apple pie. What could be more satisfying, other than sharing your secret place with an appreciative moitié?

Lucy Gutteridge as Mary Lennox and Colin Firth as Colin Craven. [Online image] 1987.

Decluttering Your Shopping Cart

In France, it's easy to go overboard with grocery shopping. You just never know if the delicacy in front of you is still going to be there the following week. And I don't mean pale brown loaves of chocolate torrone imported from Italy or styrofoamy stacks of organic rice cakes. I'm talking dental floss. Tissues. The basics. So I've started stocking up. Unfortunately, my Paris apartment hasn't budged a centimeter to accomadate my growing stashes of toiletries--or my vertically-expanding pantry of cornmeal (farine de maïs), brown sugar (sucre saveur vergeoise), and baking soda (bicarbonate). But a fire in a grande surface over the weekend got me thinking. As we waited for the firemen to survey the scene and tell us that we would not be allowed back in the store, I realized that I couldn't remember half of the items in our abandoned cart. I had gone in there with a list of maybe 10 staples I was running low on but had loaded up instead on things like Kleenex anti-viral tissues and backup cranberries. Of course, there were also the fixings for that night's dinner, but pas de drame. What could be more fitting for a French supper than day-old baguette and a dusty bottle of red?

Alicia Silverstone as Cher Horowitz. [Online image] 1995.

American Again

I grew up defending my beliefs with a toss of my pony-tail and a glib, "It's a free country."
America gave me that luxury to be smug. I could say what I thought. I could be what I dreamed of being.
But then something happened in 2000. Suddenly someone who didn't "get" it was leading our country. Someone with a personal agenda that had nothing to do with thinking or dreaming.
In spring 2001, in a room of fellow Berkeley undergrads eager to study abroad, it was impossible to ignore the change. "For the first time in my career," the program director warned, "I cannot say that you, as Americans, will be welcomed abroad with open arms."
I moved to Paris that August, and three weeks later, on 9/11, the world ground to a halt before diving into a perilous cycle of fear, hate, and greed.

When Barack Obama was elected President this week, Americans affirmed their right to think and dream. . . and, yes, to be smug again.

Daryl Hannah as Madison. [Online image] 1984.

It Takes A "Quartier"

It's easy to feel alone in Paris. Parisians just don't smile or say bonjour to strangers for the fun of it. 

So don't expect any niceties from the check-out lady at Monoprix as she yawns and watches you swipe your American Express with one hand and stuff your soy patties and rice crackers into bags with the other. If she tosses an au revoir your way, consider yourself lucky. But pas de soucis: you'll still have plenty of time to chew the fat on your walk home. 

Off to pick up the dry cleaning? Your local pressing owner will not only greet you with a warm bonsoir; she'll probably rattle off the articles your husband dropped off over the weekend and dive into a heart-to-heart on family planning.

Never mind that between your groceries and Monsieur's suits, you need ten minutes to punch in your building code--you're still glowing from your bout of neighborly banter. And to think you get to top it off later on with a dégustation of tea and vegan goodies at your Yoga studio. Oh, comme j'aime mon Paris !

Audrey Tautou as Amélie Poulain. [Online image] 2001.