Alisa and I got into a fight today. Only our third in sixteen years. It felt awful but it was over fast.
It’s been a bit of a rough day.
At Sabbia Rosa I picked out a few pieces of lingerie to try. The sales person started ringing me up assuming I wasn’t going to try anything on. The bill would have been well over $4000. I was flabbergasted by this and left in a huff.
The good parts of today were revisting the Marche Aligre and buying macaroons at Laduree on Rue Bonaparte.
We organized a very satisfying dinner for ourselves.
After a night of mishaps and miscommunication, Lee and I headed to Au Petit Fer à Cheval. What a lovely place. The bartender, Bruno, was so nice to us. We were the last ones at the bar at 2AM and they took my iPod and played it over their stereo system. Bruno asked if we would come back tomorrow. I said we would but I don’t know if we will.
I think I’m hyper sensitive because this whole trip is coming to an end so soon. I’m trying to find the space to think about what has happened to me and if when I return to NY, the contentment that I’ve found for myself in Paris will stay with me.
We shopped a little today. We walked into a store called Merci, and I said ‘uh oh I think the consumer in me just woke up.’ I can’t believe I’m saying this but, shopping was exhausting. And I only bought one thing: a little gold bracelet with light green enamel stars.
Other than that we had two very good meals. Lunch at Cafe des Musees and dinner at La Gazzetta. When I asked the waiter At La Gazzaetta ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ he tilted his head and frowned ‘non, et vous?’
He was tough. It was not possible to win him over. But the meal was delicious. Particularly the pork belly with red cabbage and Jerusalem artichokes. I finished before Alisa and thought ‘what if I licked this plate?’
We walked towards home and I asked Alisa to come sit with me while I journaled at Le Jean Bart. She had bought a memento book at Merci which she started working on at the cafe while I wrote.
I wrote a poem during lunch. And Alisa was there too. I hadn’t written one in a few days and I was worrying that maybe they had stopped. But today’s poem might be one of my favorites–it’s the first one without a trace of melancholy.
Not that long ago, having 18 days left here seemed impossible. I wanted to give up and come home. But now… I can’t fathom not being able to come back here easily. I told Alisa over dinner that if I got a job here tomorrow, I wouldn’t go back to NY…at least not for a little while.
After taking a 20 minute power nap at 6AM, I got on the RER to pick her up at the airport. I was an hour late. And I now hate the RER. It could be the last circle of public transportation hell. When the train pulled into Chatelet, the train was so crowded that two very unfortunate people literally had their hands and faces pressed against the glass. Dude.
I hated it. Very stressful.
But Alisa is here and she’s a trooper. She’s up in the loft sleeping with earplugs in. Our day started ages ago with being the first people knocking on Breizh Cafe’s door for breakfast at noon.
It has been an adjustment: from talking to Lee to0 much and too fast, to trying to figure out how to write with her sitting across from me. I thought it was important that I keep to my routine even with her here. We were at Deux Magots and midway through freewriting, I looked at Alisa and stopped.
Lee and I have been friends for 16 years. Since her daughter was born four years ago we’ve only had three opportunities to spend time alone together. This is a great chance for us. I put my notebook away.
My favorite part of today might have been when we had to be home for the guy who came in to replace the stove. I was on my computer and Lee was curled up next to me on the futon reading the Time Out Paris guide. We went through the restaurants and made reservations for the next two nights: Derriere and La Gazetta. Lee and I spent much of the first few years of our friendship always together and most of the time sitting on either my futon or hers. I’ve definitely missed that.
Holy cow I’m so tired. Picking Alisa up at the airport in four hours. I need some sleep.
I got The Tattoo today. Anjuna asked her friend Greg, a grafitti artist, to create the tag for me. And then she hooked me up with a tattoo artist. It was a little bit cloak and dagger. I had to call Carlito who told me to call G.G. who had to coordinate with Gabby….which all lead me to taking the Metro out to the 12th at 9PM to meet G.G. in front of an apartment building. The fact that I was only a tiny bit nervous speaks volumes to what kind of state of mind I’m in.
I had a great time tonight.
I had to wait awhile because Gabby was inking someone else. So G.G. who owns Eazy Ink waited with me and we talked for awhile. People are always apologizing to me for their poor English but I don’t even attempt the French and I feel like I completely understand. I really enjoyed talking to him. It was relaxing. At one point we were watching some horrible Greg Kinnear horror film (they’d put it on in English for me <3) and we were eating pizza and drinking Jack and coke. College flashbacks.
So it was finally my time. I was in with Gabby until 2 AM. I was so tired. It was like I didn’t even care about the tattoo anymore. Gabby said he wasn’t tired but he was yawning and when we left to get me a taxi he grabbed the bottle of Jack for the walk. I love Paris.
Earlier today was pretty great too. I got out of the house early and went to visit La Mosquee. Once again I had no idea what to expect. Circled the block a few times trying to figure out which was the entrance and what it was I was planning to do when I got in there. My Time Out Paris guide came into service again, letting me know that the scholarly parts were not open to the public but the tea room and the Hammam were.
I sat to write in the tea room and had a couple of small glasses of sweet mint tea.
In the afternoon Linda and I went to Saint Germaine and had coffee at Relais Odeon. Nice cafe. Nice convo. I have come to like the process of trying to understand one another. It’s relaxing because I like the people I’m talking to and I don’t try to listen to every word…I just go by the feeling and I find that it’s very easy to understand. Even when it’s a complicated thing like Linda explaining her thesis to me.
A funny thing happened with our waiter. I think he was flirting. He said to Linda that we should notice how careful he was not to burn me when putting my coffee down in front of me. And that he brought water. And wasn’t he such a pretty gentle boy? Linda translated for me and I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair. Linda says French men don’t really flirt –except in the club.
Alisa is arriving in 3 hours. I have to leave here in 2 hours. And I haven’t slept.
Big day. I leave a week from now. And Alisa arrives tomorrow morning from NY for une petite visite. Basically everything changes tomorrow.
This trip turned around for me in 24 hours with 4 things:
-Andre and Linda took me out to lunch.
-I went to Dr. Milo for my ear infection.
-A friend sent me three cheerful songs that I could listen to while walking.
-and I figured out the Metro.
Simple. From there, it’s been a process of freeing myself from, basically, old ideas. I feel so many obligations to people on a regular basis even when nothing’s expected. Being away from everyone, there’s no excuse to feel that pull and yet I still do. Like worrying that I’m not ordering properly, or opening the subway door correctly, or whatever. It’s endless. It’s everywhere.
I told Anjuna today, sitting alone in cafes, I keep calling up this image of myself: all these things that make me feel bad are like fishing hooks in me. And everytime I go into a place to write and think, it’s space to pull hooks out. That’s where I’m at.
I love Paris for this.
Today was another great day. I had lunch with Camille from Context. She suggested meeting at Ja Ja on Rue Vielle du Temple. The restaurant lets in alot of light and it was a sunny day. That along with white wine in the early afternoon was a very winning combination.
Camille had a chestnut /pork belly soup with Chantilly cream. Delicious. It was like ice cream. Camille visits NY so I look forward to more meals with her–here or there.
Here’s a pic of my first hot meal in two weeks:
After lunch, a little loaded on the vino, I went over to Anjuna’s to take photographs. I feel like Anjuna is kindred. We talked about alot of things and even though we have a language barrier, I felt that she completely understood the process that I’m going through. We talked about my Paris tattoo and she’s going to help me get what I want with the help of her friends.
Back home, sometimes when I felt too happy or giddy I would take that as kind of bad sign. Like maybe it’s originating from stress. It’s been a totally new thing to just feel happy.
We’re at Libert. Camille has bought three cheeses and set them up on a counter in the middle of the busy little shop. She says it’s very kind of them, letting us do this. She has a knife. And she cuts four pieces of each. The raw milk cheese is oozy, gooey, deliciously stinky. We’re quiet, licking our fingers. Felicia and Chuck are from Napa Valley. Outside it’s cold and the Marche Aligre is ramping up, you’re jostled if you stand still.
We have to leave in a moment. Camille offers us hand sanitizer. There are no napkins. We shake our heads ‘no thanks’ still licking our pungent fingers. Camille rubs her hands together and agrees ‘it’s the smell of Life, yes?’
Today was a great day–it was the day of awesome French women.
I did the Paris Market Walking Tour with Context Travel. It was so much fun. There were only three of us on the tour led by Camille Labro. What a cool person. We walked through Marche Aligre munching on little apples, raw artichokes, lucques olives, and CHEEEEESE. Oh the cheese. Seriously the cheese. Oh my god the cheese.
We had aged comte (which was by far my favorite), a goat, and Camille’s favorite, Reblochon.
We saw lots of other things:
Afterwards Camille took us for oysters and wine. At 10:30 in the morning. I love Paris.
The rest of the day I spent repeatedly getting lost.
Including this evening when I was visiting Ophelie, a friend of Sebastien’s, in the 20th arrondisement. It’s so frustrating how easily I get lost. Because I’m completely convinced that I’m going in the right direction only to find that I’ve walked 30 minutes in the wrong direction.
Tonight I managed to find my way to Ophelie’s and was only an hour late. Totally worth it–a lovely person…she gave me lots of good wine, made me a salad, and brewed an espresso when I had to sober up to get home. Love Ophelie!
The view out of her front window:
There was a bad thing though…I drank a coca cola at her house after not having coke for more than 8 months now. Because I was addicted. It felt sordid. I felt bad. I drank a giant bottle of water when I got home.
This was my walking song for today. It KILLS me. I literally dance while I’m walking when this comes on. And most of the time I’m not that kind of person:
I woke up feeling like I had to fit lots of things in today. I still have 9 days but I can feel it coming fast. And I don’t want to miss anything.
I tried to focus on the 3rd, 4th, and 7th arrondisements. My system for getting around is still pretty flawed. I need to know exactly where I’m going and how to get there before I walk out the door. On Lunar New Year I wanted to eat at a Chinese food restaurant that I had read about on a forum. Halfway there I realized I’d just written down its name and nothing else–not the address or directions or the arrondisement or the closest metro. My improvising boiled down to randomly following a trail of Chinese lanterns in the 4th that didn’t lead me anywhere Chinese.
I had lunch at Cafe des Musee today. It was a little bit fancy. Or I should say civilized. It was the first time that I was brought a carafe of water without asking.
I had a salad (again). Reading menus remains a challenge. I thought I identified mushrooms in the ingredients but there were none. I had the ‘Winter’ salad. Figs, prunes, smoked meat, apples, nuts, and endives. And mint tea. All of this facilitated a good dose of thinking and writing. Mostly about the same thing: being attached…being detached. I find myself picturing people in my life and from my past sitting across from me and how I would feel different…and what it is that no one is sitting across from me.
After lunch, Musee Chasse et Nature was next on my places to visit. What a magical place. It’s a hunting museum. I didn’t know this. It was just on my list and my ability to read French is about as good as my ability to speak it. So it wasn’t until I was on the second floor looking at spears and boar skulls that I pulled out my Time Out Paris guide to find out what kind of museum I was in. And it was kind enough to tell me.
It’s a hunting museum. And like I said it’s magical.
I liked these dogs in the owl room:
But I was most surprised by how moved I was by the hunting rifles. They were exquisite:
I particularly liked the one in the middle:
I also popped into Maison de Victor Hugo. Which was ok. I have to go back and focus. I liked this window that was preserved from the original apartment.
The rest of my day could be called La Grande Epicerie: The Odyssey. I think I was tired. And hungry. Because everything to do with getting there, finding it, shopping in it, and then going home was a debacle. I went left when I should have gone right. I went South when I should have gone North. Buying a basket of groceries ended up being a three hour project.
But here they are:
I’m loving Le Jean Bart next door. They get it now. I come in around the same time in the evening. I’m not eating. I’m not drinking alcohol. I’m only having tea. They know which tea. They know I’m by myself. They know that I’m going to write for two hours without stopping and that as soon as I’m done I’m out. The lovely Saturday waiter suggested Pomegranate Oolong for my second cup. Loved it. Love Le Jean Bart.
Tomorrow: Food tour, tattoo (?), drink with Ophelie.
I wandered into a protest regarding the conflict in Egypt today. It had my heart racing. I was standing behind a journalist that went into the fray. And the protesters descended on him. I was caught behind him with the police behind me. A fight broke out. They all pressed in. I stepped behind the police. They asked me for my press pass then told me to beat it.
I spent the day on and around the Champs Elysees.
Lunch at Le Dada.
The best salad I’ve had by far: raw mushrooms, boiled potatoes, egg.
I visited Palais du Tokyo which only had two pieces installed. One of which was made up of carpenter’s crosses:
Very stylish place. I bought a card that read ‘be proud of your fears.’
But the most magical sensory thing today was visiting Laduree for the first time. I went to the touristy one on the Champs Elysees but it was still incredible.
My dessert was a pastry version of the macaron with cream and raspberries. It was rose, caramel, and lychee flavored. My tea was Laduree’s special blend, also mainly rose flavored. There wasn’t anything about what I ate there that wasn’t completely balanced. Not too sweet and with this fragrant yet subtle rose flavor. It was kind of amazing. I wasn’t expecting it.
I wrote a poem.
I walked down the Champs Elysees after that as it got dark I took pictures on the gravel path leading to the Louvre. Even though it was already dark and I had no flash I felt like I couldn’t take a bad picture. There are these statues lining the path. There’s one of a man walking with his head in his hand. I walked close to take its picture and I got shivers because it felt like he could come alive. Like I would get caught in his despair.
Tonight at Le Jean Bart the bartender who wasn’t so nice before was so nice tonight. Shook my hand. Go figure. And I bought Gitanes. 5.80 euros.
Tomorrow: Manicure, Maison Victor Hugo, Pate at Le Bon Marche.
Someone posted this great video on facebook this morning:
We All Shall Be Free! – Jasiri X ft M-1 of Dead Prez
Paté and Heartbreak 
