Goodness gracious, it's been a while! Ladies and gentleman, it seems it has been approximately 6 weeks since last I wrote, having skipped all of January to boot. Well, Happy New Year! Just like many Americans and other cultures around the globe, I spent the turn of the year indulging in holiday mayhem and romping across the ocean. I also spent a good long period of time mourning the election of Donald Trump and subsequently trying like hell not to unleash the fiery flames of Mordor from the depths of my soul as, every single day, we are treated to new and unnecessary dictates by childish, inept and thoroughly self-serving new leaders. But I digress... (not for long)...
Over the past 6 weeks, I have been to the US, the UK, and back to France. I spent a month in the States, bestowing most of my time on NYC and Connecticut, but also wandering over to Poughkeepsie, New Jersey and Philadelphia. I had a ton of dinners and drinks, saw dozens of friends and family and generally made merry as often and as much as I possibly could. It was actually a surprise to find myself staying home longer than the originally scheduled two weeks, which was in and of itself a milestone since I've never gone home for that long before.
But when I stepped off the plane at JFK airport, I finally received the news that my long-awaited visa- the one I had so stressed over for months, not being able to travel, not having enough work, not being able to get a new job or new apartment, and being carelessly ignored by my employers- had not come through. Why? Well, because the application had never been received... Mute... No words to express other than to say c'est la vie and sally forth! Live and learn. Quit your job, start fresh, take a couple more weeks at home, stop in London on your way back, and return to Paris as a tourist.
I now have 3 months to figure out what to do about a visa, a job, an apartment... a life? Nah. One step at a time. First I meet with lawyers to decide on a new course of action. In the meantime, I seek private students and jobs willing to hire me. More importantly, I actively focus on my writing career and get as many balls in the air as a magical princess of fantasy-speak can possibly manage. Visa will come, money will come, and then of course new apartment, fantastic travels, and the heart of living abroad will all settle back into place.
I do plan on backtracking and elaborating on some of the highlights of the past 6 weeks of my life. Because no matter what the drama or turmoil, I am a pretty lucky gal who basically got to have an unplanned vacation with those I hold dearest for longer than anticipated. "Love is love is love is love..."
And so I come full circle. Back to Paris and back to the beginning of a new adventure after being kicked down to the ground for a little while. I am American, this is a new feeling we all share. We were shocked and disappointed, scared and overwhelmed. Now we stand tall and fight for what we believe in. My little magical bubble won't ever compare to the chaos that is currently ensuing back home. But while I sit back in my Unicorn saddle, I know that the kind and true and moral and good will all band together to conquer evil.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Brother, Sister-in-law, and mad genius Nephew sadly returned home the day after our sidecar adventures, leaving a trio of Connecticutians wandering around Paris. Dad and Stepmom took the day to head off to the Christmas Market in Brussels and I was able to catch up on some well needed rest and computer work. For whatever reason, we were cursed with cold weather for the remaining two days of their voyage, but we made the best of it even so.
Monday afternoon I had a student (for the first time in ages) so we made a plan to meet up afterward. We sauntered past Shakespeare & Co, looped around Notre Dame, and hunkered down in a café on Isle-Saint-Louis so that I could finally get a bit of lunch and we could all escape the freezing wind for a few minutes. We then slowly made our way down to the Latin Quarter, Rue Mouffetard and yet another afternoon libation to stave off the cold. Our rollicking adventures ended back up in Montmartre where we dined at the delicious Southwestern French restaurant we have long since known and loved for its decadent salads topped with sliced friend potatoes. This time, however, Father and I at least took the opportunity for a little feasting adventure in the form of Boeuf Bourguigon.
Our final day was the most classically posh and sophisticated us rowdy crew had during our trip. Apparently my stepmother had been pushing to try a Michelin Star restaurant (thank you, ma'am!). After a bit of research, we found a moderately priced one-star establishment called Agapé in the 17th Arrondissement. It was a small venue but very chic and clean with a cozy atmosphere. The wait staff was highly accommodating and enthusiastically utilized their english skills to help my parents along. We chose the basic lunch menu but my dad and I opted for the wine pairings as well. Much of the food had some seafood flare so I had to notify the maitre'd that I am allergic to shellfish. Happily, they were very quick to acquiesce and I was able to salivate and satiate along with everyone else. From appetizer to main to dessert, with interludes of amuse-bouche to enhance our experience, I can't say there is much else like a fine dining experience.
After our luxurious lunch, we moved along to the Musée d'Orsay, a museum that I particularly love and my dad particularly wanted to see. I never tire of gazing around the beautiful old train station housing my favorite impressionist masterpieces. I do, however, get tired of museums in general, so after a couple of hours it was time to depart, much to the chagrin of my dear old dad.
Our final stop would be at the dumpling place I seem to take all of my relatives to, though never often go myself unless some lucky chap gets dragged their on a date. We were early for the opening so we sat at a local café in the 20th arrondissement and threw back a couple of glasses of wine as well as any of the natives do. After dinner, I accompanied the parental units back to Montmartre to pick up some bottles of wine they had been storing for me and to say our bon voyage. It's never easy to bid my family farewell but luckily for me, I will be seeing them in just another day or two back in the States for those oh so necessary home for the holiday hugs.
Monday, December 12, 2016
The highlight of our family time in Paris was absolutely our Mr. Toad's Wild SIDECAR Ride around town. A long time ago, we had been made privy to a small tour company that specializes in retro sidecar motorcycle tours through Paris. I was instantly enamored with the image of myself sitting in a sidecar with gigantic Angela Lansbury in "Bedknobs and Broomsticks"-style goggles and perhaps a "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang"-esque hat with an enormous scarf trailing behind me. For whatever reason, sidecars make me want to be a quirky Disney character of some sort.
After much debate (which was not debate so much as getting our schedules together), we finally booked a tour for Sister-in-Law, Nephew, Stepmom and myself. Two would ride behind the hot French motorcycle men and two lounge in the sidecar. While the attraction of clinging to a hot gallic guide à la Hagrid was certainly high, I couldn't shake the fantasy of magically whizzing through the streets of France more à la Harry Potter.
We met our guides at Place de la Concorde, where we chose one out of three possible routes for our 40-minute jaunt and my Stepmom and I struck a bargain to go halvsies on our time clinging behind or cruising beside. I was also momentarily heartbroken because I ended up having a helmet WITHOUT my coveted goggles. Irregardless, we were certainly the talk of the square as we donned our gear and lay rubber up the Champs Elysées. With the wind whistling in my hair (even though it was pretty firmly tucked beneath the helmet), I was in absolute bliss. We rode past the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, and were able to keep a speedy pace all along the wide avenues. While young Nephew was certainly adorable, we sassy ladies certainly turned a few heads as well. We were hotrodders, sexy femmes fatales on a mission to awesomeness. Too soon was our daring devilry at an end, and we were thrown back to normalcy and the adult men in our life who had waited semi-patiently behind.
As luck would have it, the rest of our day continued on with a transportation theme. Grandpa, Step-Grandma and I agreed to watch Nephew so his parents could spend a few hours exploring on their own. We decided to take advantage of the petite train that tours around Montmartre so that we could enjoy the neighborhood from a different perspective. We got off at the top of the hill to walk around, do a little shopping, grab a hot wine, and as the fates apparently predicted, we saw one of our burly biker guides ride past with another sidecar-amour!
Even more luckily, we had months before made reservations at an adorable restaurant that I found sometime last year with a good friend of mine... "Le Wagon Bleu." Translation? The blue wagon, or more specifically, the blue train car. Yes, our day in transit continued on into the night as we filled our bellies with scrumptious fare in an old piece of the Orient Express. It's a charming restaurant situated right next to a large tract of current train tracks, so the illusion of bopping along in a glamorous dining car was made even more realistic with the occasional subtle shutter of the trains moving below.
Sadly, the NYC contingent of our trip was to be leaving the following morning, so we made sure to enjoy ourselves heartily with cocktails, food, dessert and more. The adult siblings continued with wine back in the final night of their cozy Airbnb flat so that we could enjoy the last moments of Paris together. I decided to crash on the couch one last time in order to take full advantage Nephew hugs and kisses in the morning. Bon voyage, ma famille, mais à bientôt!