Running Away Fantasy #10

There's no in-store Starbucks and the wooden floors are marvelously uneven, but I could spend dozens of perfectly contented hours in this historic book shop thumbing through the plethora of literary offerings; happily tucked away in a muffled little corner just reading, reading, reading and occasionally tuning in to the glorious tolls of Notre Dame...

So Long Yves Saint Laurent

Monsieur Saint Laurent, an incredible fashion pioneer, died yesterday in Paris at the age of 71. The New York Times ran this piece late yesterday; the cause of death is still unknown.

Yves Saint Laurent

1936 - 2008

Will Work For Paris

Well, I've officially started looking for a new job. It's pretty bleak out there, but I'm determined to find something that's right without settling too terribly much. I'm putting it out to the universe that good things will happen and that I will find a job that I love (and that loves me back!).

Gary and I have begun working on a book about the Paris trip. It's kind of like a picture book for adults (yeah, not those kinds of pictures). Once we have a grip on that project and it gets moving through the right channels, I'm going to re-direct my focus on the novel. I've decided it's time to fish or cut bait, so I've given myself to the end of the year to finish it and get it to at least one publishing house for consideration. There just so happens to be a company here in Denver that primarily publishes books by and for women... :)

Speaking of the trip, it only took six days following my homecoming to begin making formal arrangements for next year. Gary and I talked it over yesterday (I'm *so* lucky to have this guy!) and I'm signing the contract for the apartment on Monday: I'm doing Paris all over again next May.

I'm not going to ask you if you've ever dreamt about doing something amazing, because I know that you have. The question I will ask is...

What are you waiting for?

The Louboutins

My shoes, my husband's handiwork...we make a good pair (pun sort of intended).

Next week we'll be doing a photoshoot with the new shoes (before the perfect red soles get scuffed - which I so canNOT even think about)...stay tuned!

-Shannon

Picture Perfect Paris

My street...

L'Hotel - where Oscar Wilde died - and where we had coffee and hot chocolate on our last evening in Paris...

My precious...

My other precious... and the Seine...

I had a melt down in the Tuileries, she offered me comfort...

Then I comforted her friend...

This was my favorite statue in the Tuileries in 2000...still love it...

Pont des Arts...where the locals eat, drink and are merry. My apartment is on the other side of the Institute of France (the domed building)...

With Stefane (left) and Charlotte at Le Flore (*love* those girls!)...

Such a thrill to come to Shakespeare and Company!

My version of Google Maps...

The Louboutin boutique at 19, rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau...

Le Procope - the oldest restaurant in Paris (1686). Nobody cool ever ate here - unless you count Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, or Voltaire...

...and these two boys...

...whom I wanted to tuck into my purse and bring home with me...

Oh yeah - we ate Procope, too!

In line at the Eiffel Tower...

The sun setting on Paris...

Champagne and diamonds...

Sacre Coeur through a clock at Musee d'Orsay...

At Orsay...

A real live accordian player outside Notre Dame...

My Parisian home away from home - Cafe Flore...

I just checked out Gary's blog...looks like we had the same idea today. Click here for more pics o' Paris.

Paris: The Wrap-Up

Jinkies, gang. I can't believe the month is over already. No, you don't understand - I seriously can't believe a month has passed since my first incoherent, jet-lag infused post. What a ride. What an adventure.

I came. I saw. I was not disappointed. At all.

I think I averaged, roughly, three miles of walking each day (actually probably much more than that; next time I'm bringing a pedometer), in my favorite silver ballerina flats (memba those?). I'm guessing, all said, I got a good 80 to 90 miles out of them (and my feet). I love those shoes - they served me well. They are no longer pristine and pointy - or really even silver - for the streets of Paris are merciless.

As far as wine consumption - I easily drank more wine here during my short stay than I've had my entire life (no lie). I drank alone. I drank with family. I drank with friends and strangers alike. I'm indiscriminate when it comes to my drinking company, however I fear my palate has finally developed a love of something other than breakfast cereal, Hot Tamales, and those licorice tuxedo things from Harry & David.

My taste buds have been, in equal parts, tantalized and tortured. I love a good, dry red (French) wine but I've found that if it's too dry (and perhaps if one drinks too much of said wine), the tongue is completely wrung out and in pain for a couple of days. I've never been good about - what is this word you say in English - ahh: Moderation. I don't have an actual bottle count of the delicious elixir I consumed, but if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it was in the 20s. Probably the high 20s.

I made the conscious decision to not have (too much) bread or cheese or (any) chocolate before my husband got here. I wanted to enjoy these things with him when he got here. I also knew that when he did get here, the whole food thing would become a primary endeavor (if you don't believe me, click here). I love my husband, but he makes me fat; it's his super-hero power. Needless to say, the last ten days (in addition to the copius amounts of wine), we've consumed about 37 baguettes, 14 pounds of cheese, 3.2 tons of chocolate, and about 16 ounces of water. I have lots of priorities when I get home (coloring my hair and finding a job - yes, in that order), but getting to the gym is right up there.

Cliche or not, the Eiffel Tower is my favorite monument of Paris. My goal was to see it - in its entirety - all lit up and sparkly. I'm happy to say that this goal was met and, again, I was not disappointed. Gary and I went to the top at about 8:00 PM one night and watched the sun set on Paris. The pink light from an impossibly cherry-colored sun bathed all of the western-facing parts of the city in a magnificent glow. Amazing and beautiful. Then we took the lift down and hung out on the second platform and waited for the primary lights to go on - the ones that come on at sunset and stay on until about 1:00 in the morning. They don't come on at full power all at once; it takes awhile for all those bulbs to warm up. So what starts out as a soft, amber glow ultimately builds up to a fiery orange that rivals a sun beam.

After a quick suntan, we descended back to street-level to one of the gardens that extends out in front of the metal beast and waited impatiently for the clock to strike 10:00. This was the moment, folks: The champagne and diamonds show. Ooohs and ahhhs were elicited from the mouths of dazzled onlookers all over the place. I'd have to say that that was one of my favorite moments... That, and my orgasmic trip to Christian Louboutin.

I got a small bit of writing done - though none of it on my book. Being in Paris is kind of what I imagine having ADD is like. There are just far too many distractions to concentrate on any one thing. Especially if that thing requires you to keep your head down, eyes locked on a page, and focused solely on your thoughts. Gary and I will work on a project together when we get home about the whole Paris-thing so, if nothing else, at least I felt inspired to write.

My experience in Paris wouldn't have been what it was had I not met the people I did. I am indebted to each of them for showing me parts of Paris I would have otherwise not seen. I feel I have a much better understanding of the culture, politics, history and - of course - the people through my dicussions and time spent with these amazing friends. Thank you Nicolas, Stephane, Charlotte, Stefane, Jacques, and Aurelie for the times we spent together; you enriched this experience and my life immeasurably!

I am especially grateful for an opportunity that my friend, Jacques, afforded me (you might remember him; he's the film director). He is in the process of beginning a new film (script done, characters cast), and is heading to Cannes this weekend to start promoting it for next year's festival. A couple of weeks ago, he asked if I would write the english version of the film's synopsis for his presentations in Cannes.

Last week, we met at "The Flore" to go over some edits and feedback he'd gotten from one of his Hollywood contacts. Yeah, so I'm sitting in this historically relevant place - where some of the greatest minds of the last century have gathered to discuss literature, politics, and philosophy - working on a film project with my director friend. The realization of that in this particular moment, my friends, was about the coolest thing ever. I've spent a lot of time at Flore while in Paris (moreso than any other place besides my apartment, actually). It's a great meeting place - a great place to people-watch - and the food is pretty decent. But actually working there was magical; a total blasty-blast, if you will.

Somehow, throughout the process of working on this project, I've kind of gotten sucked into the whole production process and we're (yes, I said we're) going to try to figure out a way to get his film produced from and possibly filmed in the States. I'm leaving Paris with the scripts of two films, a whole new passion, and a whole lotta things to figure out.

I am going to miss a lot of things (my friends, the happy sounds from the two cafe/bistros that flank my apartment on rue Jacques Callot, the beautiful shops, the wine, the energy of the atmosphere, the people watching, the innate comfort that I feel here...), but I think I'm ready to go home and begin to let it all soak in.

We have so many comforts afforded to us in America that can easily be taken for granted. Paris is a highly-condensed city - both in- and out-of-doors. Space is something that is a luxury here - living space, breathing space, personal space, space on the sidewalk, space in cafes, space in the bathroom, space, space, space... I think I will make a trip up to the mountains when I get home and get reacquainted with the magnificent place I get to call home.

Thanks for your company the past month; your notes and long-distance participation definitely added a much needed element of home. I'll post pictures of my experience once I get home (thankfully Gary is an ace photographer!).

Now, you'll have to excuse me while I go enjoy my final hours in this magical place which has claimed more than just a little bit of my heart...

Bisous et a bientot,

Shannon

C'est La Vie

Well, we've had an interesting time since the toilet broke on Saturday (don't ask, don't tell). We had hoped to have it fixed on Tuesday, but got the news that they couldn't get here until sometime next week (looong after we left). Then, at one point, there was talk of buying a new toilet but, shortly after that, came the news that the plumber could come Thursday morning (today). Woot!

Turns out that a wet wipe was the culprit - sort of. Before, when flushed, it sounded like Godzilla and King Kong were in there doing a spastic tango; now the thing practically purrs. After hearing the "new and improved" flush, methinks it was time for a new engine anyway.

So, the good news is that the toilet works. The bad news is that the city is doing maintenance on the water system and we're without water until "sometime this afternoon." If I'd only been able to read the flyers posted on every door in town - including the one on the entrance of this building - advising that the water would be shut off today... (BTW, irony or just an unpleasant coindence?)

In the over all scheme of things in life - and taking into consideration the horrific events taking place in Myanmar and China - we have no problems. And we're in Paris having no problems. Life doesn't suck:)

-Shannon

Update - We have water!

Top 10 Reasons It Might Be Time To Leave Paris

10. My roots are so overgrown that I make Britney Spears look classy.

9. It feels like a hippopotamus has been using my feet for chew toys.

8. It looks like a hippopotamus has been using my feet for chew toys.

7. It's no fun being without a toilet for three days.

6. I'm craving an ice-cold beer.

5. I need to find a job so I can pay for my eensy weensy Louboutin purchases.

4. I miss my morning bowl of coffee.

3. The novelty of dodging cars, motorcycles and busses has worn off.

2. Taking pictures of my husband in his underwear while he is sleeping is now the most interesting thing I can find to do.

1. I miss my kids and doggies...

How Sweet It Is

Check out Gary's blog for pictures of just a few of our confectionary indulgences

(he takes pretty pictures!):

http://www.easilydiscouragedman.com/2008/05/le-food.html

An Apartment In Paris

Since I made the decision to not take pictures while I was here (oh yes, I do regret that!), I've had to rely on the mad photographic skills of my visitors. Click HERE for Gary's blog and the pics he took of our little apartment here in Saint Germain des Pres.

Late yesterday afternoon, the toilet broke. This building is a little over three centuries old, so that it has plumbing at all is a substantial luxury. Some of our neighbors still have to use the toilet in the stairwell because their apartments do not have the necessary plumbing to accomodate a toilet.

Yes, this stairwell...

Upon initial inspection of the broken commode my landlord, Thierry said, "You must have put something in there." Then proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes up to his elbows drawing all the water out of the toilet - one spongeful at a time - he announced two things: First, because it was late Saturday afternoon, he wouldn't be able to get the maintenance guy out to inspect the scene of the crime until some time Tuesday afternoon. France is in full-on holiday mode so pretty much everything is closed until Tuesday. (I will take this opportunity to remind you again that the toilet broke on Saturday...)

Second, came this proclamation, "I have a solution - no problem! I have another apartment one block away." I'm thinking that this is fantastic! We'll get to stay in another apartment and all will be fabulous! Uh-uh. "There is a toilet in the lobby you can use." Okay - not exactly what I'd hoped for, but better than having no toilet at all. He asked us to follow him to the other building, which we did, and when he showed us the toilet inside this seemingly beautiful and recently modernized building - well - let's just say we were a little surprised. It was a Turkish toilet. That's right. A hole in the ground. Then he offered a cheerful, "Make sure you bring toilet paper with you!"

I might actually be feeling the first twinges of homesickness...

-Shannon

Reality Check

I had a complete meltdown yesterday - with lots of tears. With Gary here, I'm reminded of my real life - the one I'm going back to in a week - and it makes me a little melancholy.

I can't explain why I feel the way I do. I love him - the kids - our life together - but at the same time I feel dead inside (not because of Gary or the kids - but because of my own strange wiring). Here, the dead part of me was awakened. I need to find a way to have both at the same time.

Gary and I talked a lot about it. He gets it - he's the same way. His happiness isn't in Paris - but he gets why mine is. We talked about my coming back each year - maybe not so extravagantly (says I), but the thought did appease me very much. I know, I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have him for a husband; believe me, I am grateful every single day.

Anyhoo - aside from my personal drama - we did a lot yesterday. I took him on the Louvre-to-Arc-walk and we taxied back to Saint Germain for a lovely lunch at what I've decided is my favorite place to just 'be' - L'heure Gourmande. It was Gary who wanted to try it out because the guy that owns our apartment, Thierry, recommended it for their hot chocolate.

It's tucked away in the semi-hidden Passage Dauphine (almost right next to the Franprix). So - down this passage are a couple of shops and this sweet (quiet!) little bistro. The tuna salad I had was delish and the desserts were decadent beyond words (Gary will undoubtedly blog much more about the food and share pictures on http://www.easilydiscouragedman.com/). After lunch and a quick trip to the Franprix for groceries, we took a two-hour nap.

After rousing from some much needed sleep, I took him to the tip of Ile de la Cite for a little foot dangling over the Seine. Then we meandered up along the right bank up toward Notre Dame where we found some cute souvenirs for our peeps back home. We missed the last entry time for the church by five minutes so we went around to the back of the church to see the cute little park - which was dotted with lovers, children and tourists.

Then we came back to the apartment, packed a little cheese-cracker-wine picnic and went to the Tuileries - where we had hoped to see the Eiffel lights come on at 9:00. They didn't come on at 9:00 but maybe, since it's staying lighter in the evening now, they've changed it to 10:00. We packed up and made our way back to the apartment via Pont des Arts - which was positively crammed with picnicking locals. What a life...

I think we'll go back there tonight to watch the Eiffel lights...

-Shannon

White T-Shirts And Madonna

Remember the white t-shirt argument I had before coming to Paris? Well, I just wanted to tell myself, "I told you so." I went to the Gap this afternoon to pick up a couple of white t-shirts. It wasn't just any Gap, however; this Gap happens to be right outside of the Sorbonne. And, I've got to say, their selection is much cuter than ours - at least what ours was before I left.

It's all very feminine - lots of white and soft beige. I noticed lots of linen, too - like pants and capris. High-waisted slacks - fabulous ballet flats showing the perfect amount of toe-cleavage (oooh the temptation was there, believe me!) - ruffles - crisp white cotton blouses - and nothing too revealing. It's really all just very sweet and clean looking (a nice departure from all the mid-riff, cleavage and butt crack- baring clothes we have in the States).

Oh, and I just found out that Madonna is performing here tonight at the Olympia Concert Hall (about 10 minutes from me). I checked her website and tickets are going for a paltry 2999 Euros for this particular show (that's $4500 for us American-types). I would totally go, but I have some laundry to do...

My husband arrives on Thursday - woot! Time to relive Paris allll over again - darn!

-Shannon

PS - More fashion skinny:

Red shoes

Boys are wearing the skinny jeans, too.

All the cool guys look like hip 60s modsters; longish hair swept forward - dark glasses - big Adam's Apples. (Yes the Adam's Apple appears to be making a comeback.)

Layered tops - like three at a time - usually very thin material.

Remember the 80s sling belt (wide - but not too wide - and worn down around the hips)? Well, wear that (preferrably in a rich, dark brown braided leather) with a white, feminine hippie shirt (ruffled along the hem and sleeves is perfect and quite flattering), a pair of skinny jeans, and ballet flats and you will look like all the cool Parisian girls.

The belt with any other type of top(s).

Tailored shorts (high-waisted with a belt) and opaque tights - though as it gets warmer, I imagine the tights will stay in the drawer.


That's it for now; I'll be sure to keep an eye out for anything else that looks interesting and pass it on!

Bisous!

Paris - Week Three

I've sort of given up trying to count the days. Also, when doing so, it's a sad reminder of how much of my time has already passed. I don't feel like a tourist anymore; I've settled into a nice rhythm and feel very much at home in this jewel of a city.

Each day (since about day three) at around 4:00 PM, I start to feel giddy (think Mary Tyler Moore tossing her beret up in the air). Maybe I should go buy a beret to toss. Hmmm....why not?

It's been pretty low-key around here since the girls left on Saturday. The weather has finally turned spring-like and, yesterday, it was actually hot! I met up with one of my friends Jacques (I wrote about him before) and his eight year-old daughter, Giulia, yesterday afternoon. We took a trip to Le Parc de Saint-Cloud just outside of Paris. This is a massive park (see footnote) and is predominantly visited by French folks - no tourists, yay!

We walked around a bit then went to a little cafe in the park for a dish of sorbet (I had a scoop each of fraise, framboise et mangue). It must be said that the sorbet here is unrivaled in taste and texture. It's a near religious experience to taste this frozen confection. I had gotten pretty thin by the end of my first week here. For some reason I had no appetite and really was beginning to waste away. Between the wine, bread, cheese and sorbet, I've managed to put the lost weight back on but it matters not for there are no worries in Paris!

Anyway - back to the park:

"Located to the west of Paris, accessible by subway lines No. 9 and 10, the national domain of Saint-Cloud opens every day of the year its 460 hectares* of protected areas offering exceptional views on the capital.

You will discover the delights of forest areas and water games that blur the wealth of styles and moods of the gardens.

In turn owned by Catherine de Medicis, Sir, brother of Louis XIV, Marie-Antoinette, Napoleon Bonaparte and III, the area regarded as one of the most beautiful gardens in Europe, is classified a historical monument since November 9, 1994."

It's true about the views. If you could see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night from anywhere in or around the city, this would be the place to do it. Surprisingly, I still have not seen this spectacle in its entirety other than the glimpses I stole my second and eighth nights in Paris. I'm waiting for my husband to share the full monty with me - so it's totally worth the wait!

Today while I was strolling around the hood, I quite accidentally came upon the place where George Sand used to reside (it's about a 45-second walk from my apartment). It's pretty surreal to think that if I'd taken this trip sometime during the mid to late 19th century my neighbors would have been Oscar Wilde and George Sand. And, since it's very near to me, I've been to Le Cafe de Flore several times; that place is haunted by some pretty impressive ghosts.

Mondays are pretty quiet around here. All the museums are closed and most of the shops either don't open or don't open until later in the day. There are no set hours of business, per se, and many times shopkeepers just put a sticky note on the door advising of their approximate time of return. It's a dichotomous mix of laid-back fervor - if that makes any sense at all.

Alrighty - that's enough of my rambling for one day. I've been invited to dinner by Jacques and his family (a special honor), so I need to go find some sort of yummy dessert to bring. I wonder if they have anything like that around here...

-Shannon

*A hectare is equal to 10,000 square meters; so the park is just shy of 1,137 acres - it's huge!

Text from:
http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=fr&u=http://www.dnsc.fr/&sa=X&oi=translate&resnum=4&ct=result&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dparc%2Bde%2Bsaint-cloud%26hl%3Den

Sous Le Ciel De Paris

Sous le ciel de Paris
(Under Paris Skies)

Sous le ciel de Paris
S'envole une chanson
Hum Hum
Elle est née d'aujourd'hui
Dans le coeur d'un garcon
Sous le ciel de Paris
Marchent des amoureux
Hum Hum
Leur bonheur se construit
Sur un air fait pour eux

Sous le pont de Bercy
Un philosophe assis
Deux musiciens quelques badauds
Puis les gens par milliers
Sous le ciel de Paris
Jusqu'au soir vont chanter
Hum Hum
L'hymne d'un peuple épris
De sa vieille cité

Près de Notre Dame
Parfois couve un drame
Oui mais à Paname
Tout peut s'arranger
Quelques rayons
Du ciel d'été
L'accordéon
D'un marinier
L'espoir fleurit
Au ciel de Paris

Sous le ciel de Paris
Coule un fleuve joyeux
Hum Hum
Il endort dans la nuit
Les clochards et les gueux
Sous le ciel de Paris
Les oiseaux du Bon Dieu
Hum Hum
Viennent du monde entier
Pour bavarder entre eux

Et le ciel de Paris
A son secret pour lui
Depuis vingt siècles il est épris
De notre Ile Saint Louis
Quand elle lui sourit
Il met son habit bleu
Hum Hum
Quand il pleut sur Paris
C'est qu'il est malheureux

Quand il est trop jaloux
De ses millions d'amants
Hum Hum
Il fait gronder sur nous
Son tonnerr' éclatant
Mais le ciel de Paris
N'est pas longtemps cruel
Hum Hum
Pour se fair' pardonner
Il offre un arc en ciel

Blog And Dash

I'm on my way out to meet Aurelie at Brasserie Lipp, but thought I'd stop in for a quick update.

Yesterday, we had lunch at Deux Magots - a very quaint little place packed with folks just like us (only not as tall).

I tried escargot for the first time last night. It didn't kill me.

This morning, I came across a cute article on Christian Louboutins. I've not been especially creative with my Paris diaries (my apologies), and I'm out of practice enough that I couldn't quite hit the mark with my own post on the Louboutin experience - but this reporter does a nice job infusing the crazy emotions that churn in the hearts and minds of Louboutin women in New York's Upper East Side.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/01/fashion/01CRITIC.html?partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss

Happy May Day!

-Shannon

Her Name Was Lola; She Was A Shoe Girl

I came. I saw. I bought a pair of Christian Louboutins.

Late yesterday afternoon I asked the girls if they were up to a trip to 38-40, rue de Grenelle. I've been near to Monsieur Louboutin's salon several times in the eleven or so days since I've been here. As I'd wander up and down Boulevard Saint Germain, I knew it was just a couple of turns away (beckoning me!), but I've been savoring the excitement of that (first) visit and didn't want it to be over too quickly. Even writing about it now, my pulse quickens...

The weather has been yucko - cold, windy, rainy - blech. It had been a particularly blah inside-day for me, so I decided that the time had come. Nothing cures the bad-weather blues like some shoe shopping. And if shoe shopping cures the bad-weather blues, Louboutin shoe shopping could cure...well - a lot!

As we slowly approached the atelier, I started having an out of body experience. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go in. I didn't want to go in too quickly; didn't want to rush the moment, you know? Somehow, I managed to open the door and was instantly transported from one corner of heaven to another. Yes, there were angels. Yes, they were making that "aahhh" sound.

Anyway, I looked around for the perfect Louboutin. Who am I kidding - they're all perfect.

There were so many beautiful choices; bright blue, cork, hot pink, white, shimmery white, nude, red, satin, buttons, feathers, bows, snakeskin - sensory overload! That's when I saw Lola. She was in her own enclave behind glass and a frame of gilded gold. A simple, elegant, black, patent leather shoe with a four-inch heel that looked as though it had been oh so lovingly dipped in gold.

I slid my foot into the first pair and they were a bit too big; the second pair fit like a glove. In fact, I felt as though I slid my foot into warm, softened butter. I won't say that this particluar moment was better than sex - but it came awfully close. The girls were so awesome - I can't tell you! Thank you for being there - for sharing my bliss with me - for taking pictures and oohing and ahhing at all the right times. It wouldn't have been nearly as much fun to have done this alone.

If you are a shoe lover - or have any type of crack habit whatsoever - then you totally get why I'm so over the moon about this experience. I could have purchased a pair of Louboutins at home - but to actually have an opportunity to come to Paris and buy them here? Like there was even a choice to be made.

I have a handbag addiction that rivals my mad shoe love so, I may have also adopted a new handbag from Monsieur Louboutin as well. Go big or go home, right? I went extra large.

After Louboutin, we went to the market, came home, had some dinner, drank some wine, and there may have been a little Christmas karaoke involved. It was just that kind of night...

Oh yeah, we went to the Louvre today; that was nice, too. :)

-Shannon

Red, Red Whine

So, I guess there is one side-effect associated with all of my red wine consumption: My mouth feels like I've been chewing chards of glass and razor blades. Owie!

Paris - Days Nine And Ten

Well - all good things must come to an end, I suppose. The sun disappeared today and it's very cold and rainy. I'm fighting a nasty cold (the cold is winning), so I'm not jumping at the chance to go romping around in the rain like my hardy kinfolk. I'll get to them in a minute - first, let me get you caught up on what's been going on the past couple of days.

On Sunday morning (yesterday) the girls went out and about on their own for a couple of hours. They fared much better than I did on my first solo adventure - at least they managed to not get lost! Anyhoo - after they got back, we walked over to Notre Dame to catch an 'on and off' tour bus that took us by quite a few of the major monuments and 'places to see' in Paris. I'd pretty much seen everything along the the tour last week with the exception of the Eiffel Tower.

I had thought we would do Eiffel another day and wasn't really prepared to deal with the throngs of tourists on the most gorgeous Sunday afternoon of the year so far - BUT - I was outnumbered! We were in line for about two hours before we got to the top platform and, even I - in my dour and diva-like mood - had to admit that it was absolutely worth it. My mom said that we wouldn't have another beautiful day like that so we should do it - she was right (damn!).

You don't have to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower; in fact, they have three different ticket prices depending how high up you want to go. I said, "There's no one who would go through all of this only to go to the first or second platform." Mom said, "Oh, I bet you'd be surprised." I say - not possible! It was clear and beautiful - a perfect day to have done this amazing monument. Whew! If I'd gotten my way to see it another day, it would have been dreadful in the cold and rain (which is all that's in the forecast for the rest of their visit).

We were out most of the day and came home to freshen up before taking a boat tour along the Seine (mostly to see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night). But we found out, after walking about a half a mile down the Seine, that we needed to be all the way back up by the Eiffel Tower to catch this particular tour boat (3 1/2 miles back the other way). By then it was getting late and we weren't sure if we'd even be able to get to the boat before it took off (we didn't have a schedule), so we decided to go tonight instead.

This morning, the girls got up and took the same walk up the Champs Elysees that I'd done last Thursday. I stayed in, cleaned the apartment a bit and got ready to meet another friend for lunch.

I met Jacques at the Korean Barbeque off the Boulevard Saint Germain on Rue du Dragon. Jacques is a film director and was kind enough to gift me with a film of his (a 2005 documentary about another filmmaker, Henri Langlois) which was presented at the Cannes Film Festival (I know, cool, right?). We had a great conversation about film, wine, and Paris - my first friend meeting that didn't involve a conversation around politics! It was interesting to learn that Gustave Eiffel actually had an apartment at the top of the Eiffel Tower (which would explain why we saw a creepy wax likeness of him and a buddy in a little room while we were up there yesterday). Then Jacques told me that he's only been to the Eiffel Tower once - and only to the second platform.

While I can't say that I've been partaking in the famed culinary delights that Paris has to offer (sorry, Josh!), I have certainly developed a taste for French wine. I learned today that the French do not drink Merlots or Cabernets - or really any of the red wines we drink in the States. Apparently, we buy wines based on the type of grape (Merlot, Cabernet, Syrah, Pinot Noir) while the French base their preference of wine on region (Bordeaux, Burgundy and a bunch of other places that are much more difficult to pronounce).

The thing that's completely freaking me out is how much French wine I can drink and not feel bad (no headaches or hangovers). I had a whole bottle yesterday - and at least half a bottle at lunch today and, while I had a nice buzz going, I certainly didn't feel drunk. At least not word-slurring-stumbling-around-must-do-karaoke-drunk. My mom thinks I'm going home an alcoholic. Silly girl. I am home. :)

Anyway...I was supposed to meet another friend, Aurelie at 4:00, but I couldn't find the meeting place (turns out we were right there and just needed to cross the street - d'oh!). I wasn't feeling so great because of this stupid cold, so I came back to the apartment and the girls went off on a grand adventure which, I believe, should culminate with the boat tour down the Seine. It's almost 9:30 PM now, so they'll be getting an eyeful in about a half an hour when the champagne and diamonds spill down the sides of the Tower.

I was able to connect with Aurelie over the internet and re-schedule for Thursday (it's a holiday here on Thursday, so I'm sure it's going to be completely chaotic around here!). We're meeting at Brasserie Lipp. Now, I just need to get to Les Deux Magots and I will have patronized the famed triumvirate of literary cafes in Saint Germain des Pres.

-Shannon

Paris Day Eight

Yesterday was, by far, the most beautiful day yet in Paris. About 70 degrees - maybe even warmer - gorgeous blue skies and sun, sun, sun!

I woke up and went to the market. With my mom and aunt arriving, I wanted to have some fresh flowers in the apartment to welcome them so, on my way, I bought a bunch of hand-tied lilacs from a little girl along Rue de Seine. Rue de Seine has become one of my favorite streets; probably because it's the one with which I've become most familiar.

Right before you get to the market, you pass through a shop that sells whole rotisserie chickens (among a thousand other delectable delights) - and they cook them right there on the street in one of those big, silver rotisserie ovens. Combined with the smell of bread and other baked goods, I think I could easily gain 12 pounds if I inhaled deeply enough!

The plan was for my aunt and mom to connect at Roissy Charles de Gaulle after their respective flights from their respective cities (Des Moines and Bellingham). In theory, they should have arrived no later than 11:30AM. Well, at about 12:30, I heard a "thunk, thunk, thunk" coming up the stairs followed by my mother's voice. I opened the door to find that one of my neighbors was hauling my mom's 200 pound (actual weight: 50 lbs) suitcase up the stairs for her. I'm not sure, but I think the suitcase may have out-weighed him.

What was missing from that scene, however, was my aunt. It turns out that her flight had been delayed a couple of hours and we didn't know that. So, my mom took a taxi to the apartment and we waited for my aunt to show up - which she did at about 1:30 or so. When her flight arrived and she didn't find my mom, she bravely bought a ticket for the RER (train) and made her way to the apartment all by herself. It may not sound like much - but this is a pretty impressive accomplishment for anyone, let alone a non french-speaker who was hell-bent on remaining mute for the entire trip. You go, girl!

After the girls got their things semi-settled in the apartment, we headed out to Boulevard Saint Germain, licked a few windows, had some lunch, got pleasantly buzzed off a yummy house wine, and did some more window licking.

I'd seen a shop that sells beautifully adorned umbrellas a couple of days ago but didn't go in that day so I thought it would be fun to go back with the girls. OMG - such lovely eye-candy! The small, compact umbrellas (the kind that most people carry) at this shop look like they are covered in tiny little rose buds. I'm superstitious, so I didn't open one up, but I'm sure it was magnificent. If I remember correctly, it cost 190 Euros (about $300 USD) and a 'regular' umbrella cost 900 Euros (about $1500 USD). Yowzer.

Anyhoo - we also stepped into Sonia Rykiel so I could look at that silver handbag again - yummy! Actually, the entire store was filled with all sorts of fabulosity; like the pages of Vogue had come to life. If there is a heaven, surely Paris is it.

After walking around a bit more, we came back to the apartment, drank some more wine and got ready to meet one of my friends, Charlotte, and her sister, Stephanie (I think?), at Le Cafe de Flore. The place was a madhouse - absolutely packed with people! Fortunately, the girls had gotten there before us and had gotten a table right in front. We chattered for about an hour or so (drank some more wine!) and went off in our separate directions.

I know people might think I'm crazy for meeting strangers I've 'met' on the internet (through MySpace) in a foreign country, but the four people I've met so far have been exceptionally sweet and kind and have only added to this experience in more ways than I could have hoped for. Even my mom and aunt were taken by these two girls - how could they not - they were so sweet!

Another quick trip to the market and back to the apartment. Mom stayed behind, but my aunt and I decided to go see the Eiffel Tower lit up the way I had seen it last Sunday night. We went to the Louvre - which is even more beautiful at night lit up and sans tourists - walked around a bit and found some stairs where we could sit and wait for the Tower to do its thing at 10:00. It's lit up anyway at night but every hour (on the hour), they do the glittering champagne and diamonds show. When it happened at 10:00 last night, it was like New Year's Eve - for me anyway - and it felt so magical (a term I'm finding that I use over and over again).

After that, we headed back and crashed - exhausted from a busy day of travel, walking, drinking and being stimulated by this place. I'm not supposed to say that the girls each snore like lumberjacks - so I won't. I wouldn't want to divulge any secrets or make them feel embarassed in any way. Bisous, girls, j'taime:):):)

Today, I think we'll do a little bus tour (the one with the open top) and go to Notre Dame this afternoon. I missed it last weekend because I didn't want to deal with the crowds, but these girls don't have the luxury of putting it off so we're braving the masses today (no pun intended).

-Shannon

Paris Day Seven

I can't believe I've been here a week (tomorrow); unbelievable!

Today was very quiet. I got out for a few hours and walked around the 6th and 7th arrondissements in Saint Germain along (and around) Boulevard Saint Germain (the place where I got all twisted around the first day I was here).

Today, everything is 100% more familiar and I have a much better sense of direction - thankfully! I'm definitely in one of the more (if not the) swankiest arrondissements in the city - lucky me! The shops around here are amazing! Etro, Sonia Rykiel, Armani, oh my. There was an oversized shiny, metallic silver handbag in the window of Sonia Rykiel that stopped me dead in my tracks. I licked that window for a very long time...

I saw the Eglise Saint Germain des Pres up close. It's the oldest church in Paris - and it looks it! Then I strolled (yes, strolled) by Brasserie Lipp, Les Deux Magots, Le Cafe de Flore - all stuffed to overflowing with locals and tourists. I remember reading in A Moveable Feast that each of the ex-pat literary figures of the Lost Generation would stake claim to one of these three cafes (all within spitting distance of one another) and it was pretty much verboten to cross over onto another's turf. Hemingway was more than a little peeved when he saw Ford Maddox Ford (someone he loathed) perched in his beloved cafe (though it escapes me which one now, darnit!).

As a hack writer, I'd had fantasies of finding my own little cafe; one that might inspire me to get some writing done. It's impossible. Too noisy and worse - too interesting. I'm a people-watcher in one of the best places to people-watch so I will have to write otherwheres.

I ended up catching a cold - grrr. I sat here and sneezed about 13 times in a row - no lie. It's a French cold, though, so while I may be sick - it's a chic sick.

-Shannon