ALWAYS SAY YES UNTIL YOU HAVE TO SAY NO

MORE GREENLIGHTS AND A SMALL HEART ATTACK

Jul 12, 2023

I am currently sitting in my (soon to be) new apartment thanks to Jesse.. My HEro. The time had arrived — when my apartment on Rue Vignon, in the 9th, was up and I needed a place to rest my head. Jesse had offered me his place several EN ROUTES ago for different dates… alas as the summer progressed, the timing could not have been better for us both!

I haven’t moved in fully – But I’ve come over today to wash the sheets and towels and figured this is the perfect place to type out all that’s been happening this past week.

Here goes…

IT KEEPS GETTING BETTER

Simon asked me weeks ago to clear my calendar over the weekend of July 14th — France’s Independence Day — and go with him to his maison à la campagne (house in the countryside). I did immediately!

My apartment, in the 9th, was ending on July 12th, not July 14th though, so I didn’t know what I would do for those few days.

Then it occurred to me. Since Cecile (owner of my 9th arrondissement apartment) and I had bonded over BBN (bed bug nightmare), I ask her if she would be willing to extend my stay by one night without charge. She had made the mistake of sharing with me once that she always keeps the apartment empty for one full day/night in between guests. So I knew there was a potential to do this. If I could leave on the morning of the 13th instead. That would be best. She obliged almost instantly - I was right! BBN had made us besties. Greenlight!

NO FAT PEOPLE IN PARIS

This past week I cooked for Simon. Since I missed celebrating my US Independence Day – I decided to make him a quintessential American meal in its honor. Sound the 1812 Overture for background music as you picture me molding hamburger patties and preparing smashed potatoes.

Our apéritif was a fresh squeezed lime margarita(-ish).. Hold the triple sec and add fresh cut jalapenos. We call them Ranch Waters in the US of A.. and they have become an evening staple at our beach house since Topo Chico has entered the scene. So Simon needed to taste. He loved! After those, and while our burgers were sizzling, I served us chilled pony-necks of Samuel Adams Boston Lagers (to toast America!). We ate the meal with a French red vin… when in Rome (Paris) eh?!

To add a French flair I bound the meat (that I picked up at the butcher no less, where I only spoke in French and maybe, possibly, nearly totally shed a few tears internally with frustration when I couldn’t think of the words to say as people were lining up behind me. AHHHHH when will I get better at this?!) with les herbes de Provence (a farewell gift from my Tuscookany school), an egg yolk, and a Julia Childs size slab of butter in the middle to keep it moist. I made us smashed potatoes, where he was very impressed at all the time I was taking to boil the miniature spuds, THEN smash and roast them for crisp.

When we walked into his dining room to eat he promptly said “I made a surprise for you” pointing to the dressed table and huge bouquet of flowers. He was already catching on – this American Holiday calls for a tablescape and …(flirty) fireworks!

[ps: Would you guess it??!! The night I made him this American fare he told me he had an invitation for me. Would I mind if he took me out of town instead on the 13th – early in the day – to beat the holiday weekend traffic? As a reminder, I didn’t know where I would stay on the 13th yet (my apt was finie and Jesse was supposed to still be in his). Greenest of greenlights! THEN.. Jesse texted the day after to tell me that he had decided to leave early so his apartment would be mine for the taking starting on July 16th… THE day Simon is due to bring me back to Paris. FLOW baby!]

Ok .. back to the title of this section…

Over dinner we discussed fat people and how there are virtually none in France. I told him that I had DEFINITELY seen several (hundred) but he was convinced that wasn’t true. It wasn’t until I was loading some things over to Jesse’s just a bit ago when I realized he was RIGHT! I don’t think there aren't any.. I just think you can’t be one. You won’t fit!

I went to enter the metro and I got stuck. My overnight bag got turned sideways when I was entering and caused me to come to a complete halt between the narrow glass doors upon entry. OH. MY. GAWD! My overnight bag wouldn’t fit through… and it’s eh, pretty small.

As I was struggling, two sweet French ladies came to my rescue. One pulling me so I could pull the bag, the other holding the glass door that was crushing me so that I could force my way through. It wasn’t until we were squealing in success to have made it on the other side in one piece, with an unscathed bag no-less, that I noticed two men standing there watching. I repeat. STANDING there… WATCHING. I like to believe that yes, we may have some fat people in America – but we DEFINITELY have gentleman. I couldn’t get over that neither of them even attempted to offer a hand. WILD! I walked by them both with a loud “rude!” To no avail. They probably thought “this dumb American” she just mispronounced rouge — the shade I was turning in that moment.

SAY YES UNTIL YOU HAVE TO SAY NO

I was 18 Rue Vignon bound, from Palais Royal – where I spent the better part of Saturday morning writing and people watching with my mocaccino from Café Kitsuné, when Foued stopped me on the street. I wasn’t alarmed or bothered by his interruption. But as he sped-spoke in French to me.. I asked him to kindly SLOW it DOWN and pronunciate everything clearly.

This is when I understood that he thought I was French (I get it all the time! Must be my obsession with wanting to channel Jane Birkin that has these Frenchmen thinking they can play the role of my Serge Gainsbourg.) Anyhoo. I definitely took that as a compliment and also took him up on inviting me to view the Opéra. What?!! He did!

As we talked about the only things I know how to in French.. where you’re from, your name, what work you do… He mentioned that he was a Historian for the Louvre at the very moment we were passing the Palais Garnier Opéra. He asked if I had ever been in. I hadn’t yet and was dying to!

We were waved in by the guards when he flashed his museum authority badge and in no time I was standing amongst umpteen tourists who were all doing as I was – getting neck cramps staring at the intricately painted ceiling. I have never seen something so magical. (Ok, maybe the Sistine Chapel.. But still!)

If I hadn’t said YES to this.. I would have gone this entire trip without seeing it. And with an actual historian?! Incroyable! He walked me to a private box overlooking the stage. For a brief moment we caught a glimpse of dancers rehearsing for their show later that evening before we were kindly asked to “GET OUT.”

Foued was extremely patient with me as I spoke simple French sentences and we toured around. I thanked him profusely for my free tour and then left him on my corner as I was finally homebound to study, nap, and binge the Arnold Schwarzenegger docu-series. Vivian had mentioned it was really great when she was in town last week – so I decided on my one night with NO plans, I’d watch it’s entirety. All while I copied my 1,000 scribbled French-Word notes (from the back of receipts, torn papers, waiter notepads, napkins.. Anything I can write on when I learn a new work) into ONE notebook. A demand … I mean request.. by mon MANIAC (neatfreak) professeur, Simon gave. “I don’t like that” is what he says to me each time I pull out all my messy notes. Not anymore. I am organized with a capital ORG!

[[The series though. He comes across very egoic — which I think he is. Alas, I found it incredible! He and I share the same understanding in the power of visualization and thought. Watch it! And report back.]

SUNDAY FUN DAY

Sunday I had brunch with Elizabeth, Vencent, Shayne, Gabby, Kyle, and Kimbra at Bouche to celebrate Elizabeth’s birthday. They are all (with the exception of France native, Vencent,) expat Americans and all NEW FRIENDS. We had a ball and all shared stories on what brought us here and why we want to stay!

After, I took myself to Parc des Buttes-Chaumont where I people-watched and lounged for an hour plus. My phone accidently got flipped on airplane-mode on this morning so it stopped working completely. Beyond frustrating. Alas… when I settled into it I actually realized I quite liked being cut off. Aside from losing all access to google maps (which would have been a nice tool to have to avoid mindlessly roaming for hours until I reached my destinations) I had a ball. I took myself on a date to La Cidrerie du Canal where they were beyond kind to me. Plugged my phone in, allowed me to stumble-speak in French to order a cherry cider, and perch at their bar overlooking the canal as I continued to transcribe my loose notes to one place (there are a lot of them!).

I finally connected with Jesse and made my way over to his apartment in Les Marais. It was our last visit (for a while, anyway. We promised that we’d stay in touch and at the very least facetime on occasion). After he gave me a grand tour of my soon to be new home, we made our way over to Bambino for his final Parisian meal. The tunes were great - per the usual. So within minutes his phone shot up to shazam … Mark Capanni’s I Believe in Miracles and Madlib’s Road of the Lonely Ones. Such a fun evening. Miss him already.

His apartment though… is everything! Way roomier than my dream on Rue Vignon and way cooler in temp too. I can hear him gasping in tandem of a heavy eye roll as he reads this (he always said he was très chaud here.) Who knows.. Maybe all my trips to the SoHo sauna have heightened my heat tolerance?! Whatever temp. I LOVE.

HEART ATTACK

I woke up early on the morning that I was to get the keys from Jesse. I wanted to get a meditation in and do my writing. [sidebar: I have been studying The Artist’s Way while over here and ummmm loving it! In fact, Blake - my other LSI friend who I had lunch with this week at Il Brigante (literally the BEST pizza in Paris. I stumbled upon it a few weeks ago on one of my strolls and Matthieu, one of Miranda’s husband's best friends, confirmed that it IS in fact the best! And it was!!!) has also read this book. She told me it was mandatory reading for her college. UMMMM yes PLEASE! Can everyone make this mandatory? The world would be a better place if we all did this kind of practice :)]

That morning Jesse was due to swing the keys by my apartment EN ROUTE to the airport – he’s Portugal bound to surf and be with friends. Alas, as his uber picked him up the time stamp went from a 30 min ride to moi – to a 1.5hr ride (rush hour traffic). Jesse called me as calm as ever saying that he would probably miss his flight by coming to my apartment. Hummm we can’t have that! I told him to 100% do an about face and return to his apartment, hide the key somewhere, and that I would come get it immediately. He did. I did. He caught his flight. I got the key. And all is well.

Here comes the heart attack…

On the day that I’m writing this, the day I came over to wash sheets and towels and get paradise on Rue Commines set up for my stay come the 16th — I gave myself a hear attack. Not really.. but almost!

It wasn’t seconds after I fluffed the last pillow and army folded my sheets on the bed, when the apartment door started to unlock. My body FROZE. I knew I had the only key. Who on earth was this going to be and ummm how are they unlocking it?!

In walked the owner, Stephane. He could not have been more scared too. We both gave one another heart attacks. He wasn’t expecting me until the 16th. Naturally – as I’m not moving in until I return from the countryside. He didn’t know I had come to get it ready. And I wasn’t expecting him because .. I just wasn’t. Turns out – after we explained what we were doing, all was well! [note… I am Jesse’s cousin in this scene by the way. We felt that was an easier story and cleaner for all if we were family vs friends… and brand new friends at that! So I was fumbling left and right to stay true to that story and turned up the volume on my want-to-be-jewish ways to sell it. It worked… I think!)

When I asked Stephane if there was any way to rent his place for a year — In the case that I will return. He let me down by telling me that that’s why he was here. He had sold the apartment months ago (sight unseen for $750k. Americans we have no shame! “How much” was literally the first question I asked him!) and was there to look it over before the new owner was coming for final inspection the following morning. He mentioned that Jesse was the only person he had ever rented it to. My stories over here keep getting better and better. Not only is the apartment incredible! It’s extra incredible because it’s someone’s actual HOME. You can feel it. Decorated to the inth degree, including a huge cuisine, island for preparation and entertaining, and a projector screen to watch films/tv. J’adore! Not to mention – it’s in the BEST neighborhood. Les Marais.

We kicked it for another 15ish minutes together until we both walked out. I was being summoned by Simon who was “Je suis là” – on the street ready to drive me up to his best friend’s house for dinner.

As we departed our heart attacks turned to laughter and I think Stephane and I will stay pals!

DINNER IS SERVED WITH A VIEW

Oralee, Simon’s best friend for nearly 20 years, lives in the 18th Arrondissement and was hosting us for the most spectacular dinner with THE most spectacular view of Sacré-Cœur Basilica.

Dinner was incredible! Oralee was the hostess with the mostess. As we sat on the balcony of her brand new (this is unheard of in Paris she told me — buying a new-build in a historical city) apartment, she offered me a cigarette. I obliged! I felt I had died and gone to Parisian heaven. She is a smoker and the second I was in her cozy – fully styled and decorated home – I craved to look as chic as she did with a cigarette in hand.

I smoked the (or let’s be honest.. several) skinniest of skinny cigarettes, stumbling over french with Simon beaming with pride at the product of his teachings, and dining with a new friend with Montmartre as our backdrop. It was one of the happiest nights I have had in Paris. I truly love it here!

Tomorrow, Simon will pick me up and take me to compagne. Where he says I am sure to not want to return. He has already asked if we can extend our stay until Monday.

This morning, I bought us fresh mascarpone from an Italian market so that I can make him tiramisu (a recipe I mastered in Tuscookany School), flour to hand roll pasta, and to make pastry dough for my surprise for him… My late grandmother, Mamee’s, peach-cobbler recipe. I’m taking an aged bottle of calvados (I’ve become quite an addicted over here for this digestif) as a gift for “making this souvenir” (memory) for me.

Next week’s EN ROUTE will be all about the smells, sounds, programming (Simon has a lot of plans for us.. Tennis, swinging, jogging, biking, shopping the local markets, lounging in the grass, cooking, napping. Ahhhhh can NOT wait for the upgrade! I feel so grateful) of the comgange, along with stories about my final date with Miranda and bébé Margeux at the Louvre (where Miranda serves as a docent now! UNREAL. She said she had to take classes, study and take a test for around a year in order to even volunteer at the Louvre. She continues to impress and inspire me! I can’t wait for my private tour and boodle smooches), a day trip out to Metz to visit Caroline (she booked me have an appointment with her Kinesiologue Doctor), and so much more I’m sure. Ah! Can’t wait!

For now… I’m off to pack up the rest of my things in my studio and prepare for the next four nights out of the city under the stars and near the SEA… my happy place.

Xxo