BICYCLE SPILLS, FIRE TRUCK RIDES
... NEW YORKERS AND BLUE SKIES
TWO WHEELERS
I have always taken pride in my bike skills. Starting at a wee young age when we lived on the Waccamaw River, in Conway – Miller and I would make countless Tour de Dalanooka. [Our house was named Dalanooka, after a Waccamaw Indian tribe, and it had a circular driveway that went on for days. Or, what felt like days when you were only knee-high on your first set of wheels. Biking was freedom.)
So – I have been pedaling for decades upon decades now. Although, not very smartly — I’ve traded in my kneepads and helmet, for chic gloves and a fashionable scarves… or sometimes… even heels! TRUTH.
On Saturday, Simon and I had made a Tour de Paris. We woke up early, drafted a formal letter of termination for my lease. [In Simon's love letter to me a few weeks ago – the one I caught him tucking in my mailbox when I was due to be in school and he was due to be at work. And instead, we had our movie moment – because had it been on film, it would have been the most romantic scene ever! In that love letter, Simon gave me a key to his home inviting me to move in. So I am! Perfect time for us and we couldn’t be happier. All that said, in France you ONLY have to give one month notice – but the catch is, it has to be written, signed, and snail-mailed. You can’t email or fax it or even overnight it. To be taken as formal termination request — It must be mailed. We did it all on this day — to ensure I can leave my place by the end of this month. As I have mentioned over and over. As much as I love my neighborhood, Le Marais, and my place is a dream. It just hasn’t felt like home. I have bought plants, a kitchen rug, books, and have rearranged the furniture several times. To no avail. It still just doesn't work. Simon’s place – our place now – does. It has felt like home since the first time I walked in… in July.]
So – we were drafting my one month notice termination letter in order to mail it that day and get it stamped with that date in order to actually be able to evacuate at the end of this month. Anyway… to do so… we biked to his office where we printed and signed the letter, we biked to the post office to put it in the post asap, and then we biked halfway across Paris for what I would consider (although the verdict is still out for Simon) the best pizza in town at Il Brigante. We made friends with the owner who was ready to shuffle us out promptly at closing time, so switched out our semi-full glasses of red wine for a digestif. No complaints here! Until that is, we biked home and got caught by nearly every red light without an umbrella. It was a downpour!
We didn’t stop the Tour de Paris there. We too made the decision to bike to Daniel’s place for dinner that night. And by we… I mean me! I had decided to do this. Thought it would be a fun adventurous idea! NOT MY GREATEST DECISION.
CALL THE FIRETRUCK
Let me set the scene for my Saturday night. Lady yelling out of her window for us to hush, Simon staring at me while on the phone with “911,” me sitting on the curb - no more than 15 feet away from where we had just left dinner - cupping my chin as my hands pooled with blood, and doing my best to negotiate Simon to “hang up the phone and let’s leave the scene. I am fine and do not need to go to the hospital!”
[ps. I really AM fine. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. But boy did it look gruesome for a bit!]
I am always over confident when it comes to biking, and up until this particular night, I have always returned home unscathed. Yet buckle up (pun)...
As we biked all the way up to Parc Montsouris, where one of his best friends, Daniel, lives, Simon was throwing up his infamous points so that I’d take a look. “This is the oldest hospital in Paris,” “ This is the Veteran’s hospital,” “This is the modern ‘ugly’ hospital.” Three hospitals on ONE block! I thought to myself… If I had to be in a hospital.. I would much prefer to be in the two older more beautiful ones! Then the thought disappeared – until I was SITTING IN the modern ‘ugly’ hospital, some five hours later.
We had an incredible dinner with Daniel. Dinning, laughing, celebrating with him our fun news of this next chapter for us, and drinking one too many glasses of wine. Daniel had received a digital aerator décanteur for wine from a friend of his who had invested in that gadget. So we made a game with every bottle (yes, there were more than one) we drank that night. He would set the aerator to say… 3 hours… or maybe 6… and then pour us all a mini glass to taste test. We’d then rank the preferred hours of aeration. So fun! And yet.. did I mention? We were biking home after.
When Simon and I left for the night, it was close to 1am. I decided to lead us down the route home. Again, have I mentioned? I am very confident on my two wheels. And Just as I turned onto the down hill road that had been cut in half (therefore removing the bike lane that I desperately needed) with all the construction happening, I spotted a car– racing up the hill. I called out for Simon. He yelled back “you’re on the wrong side” my fear raced through my body and my instincts tapped on. I went for the sidewalk. Only, to find out that the curb was a good inch too high for me to have made the smooth jump. Instead - when my tire hit the cement… so did my chin. I tumbled down. I was SO embarrassed. And SO bloody.
I was wearing gloves and very thick wool pants so my hands and knees were protected. But my chin was wide open. Simon instantly said “I’m calling the fire truck.” I did my best to convince him that I was FINE - yet each time I took my hand from my chin I saw that I was cupping a rouge pool of blood. I wasn’t seeing what he was seeing, so I trusted that he was making the right decision for me.
The firetruck … ambulance… arrived minutes later and before I knew it I was not only pooling my blood, but creating a pool of tears. I was silent. I was in shock. I was staring out of the ambulance window in desperation for Simon to be inside with me. He was staring back motioning me to calm down and trust.
I was refusing to sit (I thought if I sat it would be real. If I stayed standing, then I had a shot outta this situation - I thought.) I did end up sitting. And Simon joined me, all the way to the hospital emergency room where we patiently waited for THREE hours to see a doctor.
We finally heard “Madame Bethea” and I ran to the door. They didn’t even check my wristband to make sure it was me. When we realized this, we both whispered that we should have snuck in hours ago under another name. No one would have been the wiser until we were already back there and settled. Alas… we didn’t.
We were escorted back to a private room with a bed. Don’t tempt me I thought! I’ll show you what a good snooze looks like! We were exhausted!
Instead, soon after we arrived, my intern nurse came in and cleaned my wound. She made Simon step out of the room for the “examination” – which I found to be odd. Because typically when the person with you has to leave (at least this is what I’VE seen in all the movies), it’s so that the hospital staff can ask the injured questions to investigate whether said person who had to step out is the one responsible for the “accident.” Making sure it’s not an abuse situation etc. Not here. In this “modern hospital” – they are still making the men leave (even when they’re your partner and have probably seen everything that the doctors will see) so that a fellow female can take my pulse and listen to my chest in… privacy? There’s a window. ON THE DOOR. Simon peered in to keep an eye on me the whole time. He could have stayed. I gave him a thumbs up when I caught his eyes after she cleaned my wound with alcohol. It burned like hell. I let myself scream.
Enter my doctor. A very large black man wearing designer glasses and sounding sick himself. We were all supposed to wear masks and yet none of the hospital staff was sporting them. [I should have called for my teacher Pia — who wore her mask (unnecessarily - drove us all mad) until the LAST day of school! (insert my eye roll here)] Instead – as he held my chin so tight it hurt - to glue my cut (modern indeed! Not more sewing stitches in this up to date hospital. Just glue baby!) he carried on with a constant sniff. I mean .. someone! Anyone! Get this man a kleenex! Hell! Bring the entire box!
We finally wrapped it up at around 5:15am, right when all the drunks were arriving with their injuries (I know, I know… hours of wine taste tests… I’m quite sure I’m in this all the drunks category myself. Shamefully!), my sweet intern nurse came over to me with my paperwork. I thanked her and then promptly asked her to point me to the Bills Payable Department. “Where do I pay?” Simon laughed, and then said..“You don’t. Welcome to France!” What!?? This blew my mind. In America — just stepping into an ambulance practically requires taking out a loan.
We made our way through the waiting room of: broken nose here, bruised wrist there, drunk glam girls everywhere, and hailed a cab. Calling it a night at 6am. Finally. SLEEP!
NYC’S COME TO PARIS
Monday I got to see Kaki and Selden for drinks at Le Garde Robe.
Before I met them, I had gone back to the scene of the accident to retrieve the bike. And gasp – I found that her chain had indeed broken during the crash. I couldn’t ride her. I locked her up on the nearest pole and jumped on the subway to meet the gals. I mean… by god… I had more wine to taste test!
By the time I arrived they had already ordered a great bottle of wine. Feeling flustered by the delay of getting the bike and my chin still throbbing in pain – I basically told our waiter (who Ali and Ryan both had a crush on. Although none of us could tell. Was he gay? Was he straight?! I think they both had a shot!) to keep ‘em coming. And he did! We even talked Kaki and her business partner, Ryan, (who were in town for Fashion Week) to make up something to tell their client so that they could stay with us longer. And they did! We had a riot. Got caught up. Talked about Selden and Kaki’s apartment fire (when they were roommates in NYC) that had happened EIGHT years ago on that very night. [That was a wild night too. I rushed down to SoHo from Chelsea to be with them. We all met at Lombardi’s across from their apartment and watched the building go up in flames. Selden reminded us that she had JUST moved in two weeks before. Talk about irony!!!!] We spent the rest of the night laughing. Hard. and then smooched farewell until September. When Kaki returns!
The next morning I met one of the Melet's friends for an 8am coffee. I think I disguised it pretty well – but lawd I was tired. (The Melets were my family in NYC. I met them a few years into living there and promptly started taking their daughter, Sunny, (who I call Boog) to school – for years.) Kris, their friend, had been texting me for days to make a plan. She was in town for a proper vacation and was taking a special tour of Museè d’Orsay at 9am, so we settled on this morning — at the restaurant directly across from the museum.
We fell in love. No joke!! I could not get over how great she was. We, in fact, are trying to make plans to see one another again before she goes. She was incredible! And needs to write a book! Her life is fascinating. In short: she’s lived in France, NYC, Montauk, moved to LA when she was a young adult because “it looked like the South of France” and she didn’t want to “mess with the European visas at that age,” Hawaii because she took up surfing, and now is applying for her Italian passport (her father is Italian) so that she can finally move to Europe and be here permanently if she chooses.
She told me about a frenchman who she dated when she was younger and in Paris a lot - they sounded like they were so in love. When I asked… “Did you ever marry?” She responded “I always said no!” haha. She’s a free bird.
I left her and went to pick up my bike and walk her to meet my friend, Justine, at Tour d’Argent. We had the best visit and she dove deep with me about where to find a job and how to start the search over here for Americans. Wealth of knowledge and so comforting. I have also been in touch with my old boss, LP, and a ton of others who continue to remind me that “It will come. Just stay calm and ENJOY this time.” (in fact, I just hung up with Vivian who was helping me strategize. While we facetimed, and I was pulling at my shirt, a thumbs-up emoji popped up. We both got quiet and were like. WHAT just happened?! I resaid exactly what I had said and when I did, I randomly reached back for my shirt. Another thumbs-up popped up. WHAT IS HAPPENING?! Viv googled it. We were freaked out. It turns out… if you put a thumbs-up (which is what my thumb naturally did when I reached for my shirt) a thumbs-up emoji will pop up. Or if you make the heart-shape with your hands… hearts will pop up. Proof below. We were tickled.)
Later that day… I took Charleston (Simon’s mother’s bike’s name) to get a tuneup. Because, add insult to injury – this is the bike that I took my spill on. Ahhh! I swapped with her the last time I was out in Ponthoile. Where I, again, had some bike trouble. This time with my sweet James Chocolatine. I had gone on a night bike ride there and popped a tire. Ahhh! We traded for a few weeks. His father was so kind to fix my James Chocolatine – while I nearly destroyed his mother’s Charleston. Eeek!
Happy to report that Charleston is now brand new and riding like a dream. New light and all!
DINNER WITH LORI
That night I got to dine with Lori. Another NYC friend of mine! We had been playing phone-tag and text-tag for days and finally decided on meeting in Le Marais at Glou for dinner. It said it opened at 7pm. Yet.. welcome to France… it really meant that it was opening at 8pm. So, we walked to my trusted, always delicious, becoming-too-much-of- a-frequent-for-me-and-my-credit-card, Carboni’s, for the best dinner.
We walked in, asked for a table, were sent to the cave instead below the restaurant – because we were told that they were booked solid. Then, no less than one minute after we had taken our cramped, not-where-we-wanted-to-be in the basement seats, the waiter came and whispered… “There is one table for two upstairs. I thought you two may like it – so I have it saved for you.” GREENLIGHT. We were back upstairs in seconds.
Ironically — yet not at all — Paris is the SMALLEST WORLD. The table for two was seated directly beside ALL of Lori’s old coworkers for Marchesa – here for fashion week.
We all had a ball. Lori and I laughed, talked about things that we can’t talk about with our other friends… and ate it all.
THE HUMP
I just met with Jaci (rhymes perfectly with AC - a meant to be pair!) and could have sat with her all the livelong day. Do you ever meet people who make you want to say.. “I want to be you when I grow up?!” Because … ummmmm… I want to be her when I grow up. She was so impressive! A Director, living in Paris for the past 27 years, has two boys with her Italian ex-husband, a small weekend house in Normandy, a style that doesn’t quit (I mean we were basically wearing the same thing. ha… but…), and freedom. She told me that she has always lived not knowing what the next two weeks will hold. She lives for the moment, for the opportunity, for the next exciting project, and in the present. I am obsessed with becoming very best friends with her.
We met by way of a mutual friend. In a desperate place a few weeks ago – I blind emailed PR companies, fashion houses, and, randomly, design trade shows (there are a lot that happen here in Paris.) When I did this, I thought of reaching out to my friend John, who has a textile company in NYC. I asked him if he had done the trade-show before and if so – to please make an introduction for me. He didn’t have contacts there. But he did have a very cool friend he wanted to introduce me to… Enter Jaci. I’m simply in love with her!
As I gave her a shorter version of all that I’ve done in my career and what I see myself doing in the next chapter – She told me that I’m “a naturally born producer. Even meeting you for ten minutes, I’m not worried about you at all! You’re going to land soon with a great position.” I believe her! She gave me hope and we brainstormed some cool brands and people who I can’t wait to meet!
As we spent more time talking about personal life and the fun of living in this country… I gushed about how I ended up here, how I took a leave of absence from work last summer to seek out if this is where I wanted to live, how I met Simon during those three months, how it was love at first sight for us, how I found my place, how I started and ended school etc. She mentioned that the transition is real. And even though so much is great! There is a LOT to transitioning into a new country and culture. You’re telling me - I thought!! She said… “It takes a while to get your feet under you. I mean, even babies have to fight their way through the birth canal before they reach mama.” Meaning – No process in life is easy. But it doesn’t have to last long. “It’s just a bump,” she said. A bump?! I found it so ironic and so timely – considering the literal bump on my face from my spill a few days earlier. It too was just a fleeting moment that happened fast - a bump in time - and now it’s over. And my physical bump .. it’s already beginning to heal.
We visited for over two hours and knew it was time to go when we heard the church bells ring for the second time from our table at Le Bonaparte. We kept our shades on for most of our coffee – Not just because it’s the New Yorker in us. But.. The sun was out! FINALLY!
BELGIUM – HERE I FINALLY COME
I have been talking about these plans for weeks now. I am SO EXCITED! Tomorrow, by 9:30am I will be feet on the ground in Brussels ready to explore the neighborhoods and stay at Made in Louise. I will also get to see one of Simon’s friends, Margot, who lives there. She made a cameo in several En Routes ago – she’s his wonderful and funny friend who told me “you must learn French – if you don’t, you’ll miss the party!” So I am!
Elise will pick me up on Saturday morning, where we’ll be driven to Bruges for two days together. I hope she’s ready!! I will be gabbing her ear off!! I CAN NOT WAIT to see her!
This week I am happy to report that the sun has been shining - dare I say (in fear to jinx it) - more than it has rained!! I think it’s a good sign – we’re on the up and up!
xxo ac