CAN WE BLAME THE ONIONS FOR OUR TEARS?
... MY BEST WEEK SO FAR!
“SO, WHERE ARE WE MEETING YOU, AGAIN?”
Joe and my mama met me in Montmartre Friday morning. I sent my mother the coordinance and the actual name of the park that we needed to meet. They were coming from Île Saint Louis, and therefore, I knew it would be simplest for me to meet them closer to the route that their car would drive by directly — So not to cross the main avenue that would be swarmed with people who are only concerned with one thing… taking that perfect INSTA pic.
Yet, ha, my mom had other plans.
She just typed Montmartre into her Uber app and then asked the driver (who didn’t speak English to drop her off at the park that I had sent her). She continued to send me her ETA without any idea that she wasn’t coming to me. I had no idea either. She, instead, was going to where she had typed… Montmartre (which is a neighborhood by the way). She kept sending updates with later and later minutes of when she was due to arrive and wasn’t making sense. Everything close to the Park that I had told her to meet me at was calm. Turns out – her Uber driver indeed took her where she requested – the center of Montmartre. A place that is packed like sardines with people, in addition.. tiny cars trying to squeeze through the mini breaks in traffic with the many touring choo choo trains loaded down with tourists. Nightmare!
By the time we discovered what had happened, they were VERY far from me. They were on the other side of the massive Montmartre hill. C'est la vie, eh?! It’s very parisian not to be on time – so I chalked it up to them just trying to fit in with this new culture that they were ummmmmm LOVING.
We met at the top of the hill just in front of Basilica Sacré-Cœur. Stunning. Everytime I go (which honestly, needs to me more often), it’s like I’m standing ON Paris!
We ate crêpes at Breizh Café and paired them with ciders. We roamed about (it’s the best neighborhood to get lost in. So enchanting. This area used to be considered the countryside of Paris so it still has that untouched charm). We got two mini merveilleux (white chocolate and praline) at Aux Merveilleux de Fred. And then we spotted Joe… Across the street chuckling to himself OR about a text he had just sent to all of his buddies. The main avenue leading up to Montmartre is littered with Sex Shops. Joe was cackling … one can only imagine what was on the receiving end of that message!
We then met our walking tour and set out. During our tour we stopped at the infamous vineyard in Montmartre. It doesn’t produce good wine any longer – it really only serves as a way to fund the nunnery. All proceeds sold go to them. And the wine is only sold one time per year at an auction. The wine is said to taste like muscadine wine (for all of my southern readers) - tarte and lip smacky to drink. It sells for around $1,000 per bottle at auction. I have heard that politicians will buy it for their favorite (or let’s be honest, their least favorite) politician, as a joke. There’s that 3rd degree Parisian humor!!
When my mother raised her hand to ask how much they were going for, our tour guide said. “Just save your money – spend it at the Ritz instead on real drinks.” (He had no idea! That was our VERY plan for the following night. And we had no idea that he was telling the truth about spending the same! The bill for our six drinks ran $400. Hummm. What in the wild, absurd, make-me-want-to-spue, should be illegal kind of price is that?!! We weren’t even at the Hemingway Bar – which was the whole point of us going there! Ah… C’est la vie. We did have a ball though. And honestly … Money is money is money is money. What is it? If it can’t be enjoyed over a few cocktails amongst some rich ass Americans who are ALL sporting gold rolexes and talking about “things back home”?!
Ha. The Ritz looked like we had been transported to the heart of Dallas. Mini skirts for days, bleached blond hair, self tanning, and eeek all very overweight. No wonder the upsell. The company we kept around us were asleep at the wheel in Paris – The Ritz server thought we were too. And I guess we were. ** Note to self. Always ask the price when given a menu without any visible. OR just know, and be ok, that you’ll be spending your first born’s daycare tuition on your good time that night.)
IT WAS THE ONIONS AT DINNER
Mom and Joe arrived at Chez Nous - Simon and my apartment - Friday night with a bottle of calvados in hand from Normandy. (Good and bad idea. Good, because it tasted wonderful and got us sharing lots of stories! And bad, because well… We finished the bottle that night. Headaches followed promptly after.) They had just arrived back from Normandy and were gushing about the experience. Simon, with his American pride (“my brothers” is what he calls those who fought in the war), and his American girlfriend, will be booking a trip there ASAP for a tour of our own.
Simon made us his famous roasted chicken and potatoes. The best he has ever made! We have this regularly and let me just say – the saying is right – practice DOES make PERFECT! For dessert, he had ordered us a Saint Honoré. His best! And now ours too!
Before we all went to the table, Joe raised his glass of wine and toasted me and my accomplishment of moving here. He began to cry as he expressed how proud he was of me and how thankful he was for Simon. He went on to say how grateful he was that we had met and were creating a life together. That he sees the “joy” in my eyes here. It was precious! My sweet, sensitive, emotional, stepfather. Everyone’s eyes were misting.
Conversations went on for hours (nod to the calvados) that night. Simon talked about the weight of France – having such a heavy history that will be carried by the country forever. This triggered my mother to talk about her beach house that had just sold. And how much she loved and admired it – yet had also felt an emotional weight associated with it for so long. Simon, almost on cue, lifted his glass. This prompted him to make his toast.
He went on to say how thankful he was that we were all together, that I was living there with him, that my mother and Joe had been able to experience some of the beauty of his country, just as he had experienced the beauty of ours when he visited me in August. He then talked about the beach house and his & my memories there, and how beautiful it was to experience that before it was sold. We all, again, teared up! Such a special moment. (Simon, like Joe, always tears up when he delivers a heartfelt sentiment like this, or receives one for that matter. A friend the other day at that Alain Passard lunch complimented him on how happy he looked and how happy they were for us both. Simon got up from his lunch, with tears in his eyes, and hugged his friend. Shhhhh don’t tell him I saw that or that I’m writing about this. But SQT… he’s one sensitive French man. J’adore ça!)
The next day when we were reminiscing about Joe shedding tears, I said “you too cried.” He responded with a smirk - “it was the onions at dinner.”
There were no onions served.
THE WALKING DEAD
Saturday morning I met mama and Joe at Cimetière de Père-Lachaise. I was so proud of them! They were officially city-folk! They arrived on the public bus. We walked in, asked my mother to silence her Rick Steves podcast that she had decided to listen to at that very moment about the cemetery. Hahaha. My sweet Rarrie! Instead, we pulled up the map that was scannable upon entry (largest cemetery in all of Paris - you definitely need a map), located the four graves we wanted to see: Oscar Wild, Jim Morrison, Sir Richard Walace, and Chopin – and started out on our scavenger hunt. This place is INCREDIBLE! Side bar: Oscar Wild’s grave had been vandalized so many times that they had to put up glass walls around it for protection. The wee wee on his statue was broken off - on purpose. Darline, from Ozark, came flooding to mind (yes, we’re still watching this series!!). She could have had something to do with it, if you catch my drift. (and if you don’t catch it… hurry… turn on the final episode of season 3. Poor Frank Jr.!)
We had a quick bite together and then they hopped the bus and I biked back home to change and get ready for our night on the town.
CABBIE… THE RITZ PLEASE
We met at The Ritz – had our top-of-the-line martinis and bourbons – and then caught a cab in Place Vondom. We were Bar Des Pres bound in Saint Germain des Prés. Simon’s “best neighborhood!” Here, we dined on the most delicious Japanese food in Paris. Simon made the reservation in honor of mama’s homeland. He has the best memory! She was born on an army base in Zama, Japan.
After dinner, Simon gave us our second led walking tour of the week. He walked us through Saint Germain des Prés and pointed out landmarks, precious squares, hip restaurants and bars, and led them back to an easy route for them to walk home. When we separated, Simon and I had a final beer at La Palette where we ran into one of his friends. He and I spoke en français the whole time (liquid courage!).
Once Simon and I sat, it was like everything came into focus for me. The place was swarming with people. Business meetings were happening all around us. (It was Saturday night at almost midnight, mind you.) They weren’t seen as those... But that’s what was happening. Networking. “Important” people were being pulled in to sit at X table that had “reserved” on it - because they were being courted by X person for X business. It was wild to watch.
Stage left – entered a beautiful girl with a jerk of a boyfriend. Simon didn’t see them walking up – but I did. And I felt sad for her instantly. She was gorgeous and wafer thin. Her boyfriend had his arm around her and yet when they got close to the restaurant, he pushed her to walk faster. Not violently. But still! Pushed her as if she was in HIS way. I couldn’t believe it. What a jerk! They ended up taking a seat beside us - or let me rephrase - SHE took a seat beside us. He was the kind of man (for some unforeseen reason to us) who was being courted by others, so he continued to talk shop without looking her way for I’d say … an hour! Disgusting. Simon and I were splitting a skinny cigarette when all of a sudden, Simon acted as if he was ashing it towards the guy. The guy brushed his jacket with a laugh, thinking it was a mistake. But then Simon said something to the effect of “sorry, you looked like an ashtray.” I was shocked. And yet I saw what he was doing. He was trying to passively say - your lady is RIGHT HERE. What on earth are you doing… you… fill in the blank??!!
His girlfriend smirked and side winked at me with gratitude. I could tell. She was very appreciative to have been seen that night. Even by strangers. What a jerk he was!
SUNDAY RUNDAY + SUNDAY FUNDAY
Sunday I met up with my mama and Joe at Place des Vosges. Before arriving, I ran into a barricade. Almost quite literally. The Paris Marathon was happening that day so I had to park my bike at Madaline and subway to them – then go get my bike after our day was complete. Welcome to France! Or really… welcome to any city when a race is happening. Nothing is convenient.
I made a decision at that moment. If there is any way – I will be out of town during the Olympics. I can NOT imagine the random barricade mayhem that will occur here. I derail…
We met at Place des Vosges. My favorite Place of all time! I take everyone here. It is simply magic. We ate eggs, tarte au pomme, et citron gâteau for breakfast at Carette – my mama too ordered their famous hot chocolate with chantilly cream. It’s incredible! From there, I walked them through Jardin de l’Hôtel de Sully, back through Place des Vosges (to avoid the marathon runners), over to Méert where my mama may or may not have bought out the shop for “surcies” (code for small gifts), met Simon at the Picasso Museum (another of my favorites!), walked to Chez Alain Maim Maim at Marche Enfants Rouges where we ordered two signature crêpes and two signature sandwiches with a side of socca (Simon’s best!). And finally, made our way over to Square du Temple park where we sat, ate lunch together, and watched the show in the rain.
The show… was a couple who took to the gazebo, played old school music, and danced the Charleston, the Shag, the Jitterbug… you name it! It was PRECIOUS. And, just what I wanted my mama and Joe to see while they were here. Freedom in Parisian life.
Later… Simon and I got all dolled up and took his motorbike to meet my mama and Joe at Place Dauphine for a drink outside before we were Sainte Chappell bound for, what my mother is saying is her best of the entire trip. A quartet concert that was MAGIC.
When we arrived, I pushed our way to the front where we snagged four seats together. Two in front of the other. It was such a special and intimate experience. Sidebar – This was where Simon and I went on our third date together – the night we both say we fell in love. And when you go, you can see why. It is simply gorgeous. The lighting, the acoustics, the people who appreciate classical music, the lovebirds… like all of us.
FINAL DAY
Monday I left home when Simon did for work so that I could meet my mama and beau-père (step father) early for their final morning here in my new city. I took them to Tour d’Argent for coffees and pastries, then we strolled over to the botanical gardens for a quick unexpected downpour (there was pink tree cover, so we were protected).
We walked over the canal to Bastille, up to Le Marais where we were all hoping to finish the “surcie” purchasing at Maison Verot - yet welcome to France! They were closed.
So we wound up at Le Mary Celeste where I ordered us bulots, anchois, and what we would call deviled eggs, oeufs du diable. It was divine and exactly how I wanted to spend that day with them. Relaxed and eating up France!
When we left, Joe spotted the circus so we walked over to take a look up close and personal (Amiens, Simon’s hometown, has the sister circus - exact replica!). Since we were this far I decided they must see Place de la République. So we walked there, then over to Du Pain et des Idées, where we bought pastries for their trip the following day. We walked down the canal until we reached a familiar spot where I knew we could find some goodies. We popped in and out of shops for bébé Jack Cully, soon to be bébé Smith Jenkins, Belle Miller, Boggs, Martha, etc. It was so sweet!
When we reached Île Saint Louis, Joe sought out to find more rillettes and sausages and mama and I sat on the Seine. It was such a wonderful moment! Sun on our faces (the weather was PERFECT for them everyday! Even in Normandy they said it didn’t rain but for ½ an hour in the morning before their tour. It rains everyday/allday there usually.) I miss moments like these the most with my mama. Just being with her. No words even. (And that’s close to impossible when you have us together.) Just being beside her. She is one of my very best friends – it was hard to say goodbye to her later that night. Actually, she had to pull me off of her at one point. While I sobbed like a bébé.
Before dinner, were we all had a beer on the terrace of La Brasserie de l'Isle Saint-Louis, where Simon had come to join us after work. We then made our way over to Le Saint Regis – where mama and Joe had become regulars. The went everyday for something while they were here. Joe was all smiles that night. We all were! We had beers, champagne, red wine, and this time my teary toast. (I too blamed my watery eyes on the onions at dinner – but in truth it couldn’t have been them. Because as I write this now – in the morning (not anywhere close to dinner time) – my eyes are watering up again with tears of pure LOVE thinking of this moment.) I gave thanks for their visit, for the times we will look to have in the future, and for them being so open minded and supportive of my move, and then, I toasted Simon. I thanked him for becoming my family over here. I am grateful beyond belief.
I went to their apartment that they stayed (same apartment I rented when I first moved over from a friend) both days after they were gone so that I could gather things they had left for me – a huge bottle of sparkling cider from Normandy (my favorite), their extra euros (such a mama thing to do … to give me “a little mun” each time she sees me), her coat that she wore over here for me to keep (another great thing about having a mama the same size and a best friend. We share clothes.) – and to let the cleaners in. Each time I went by, I couldn’t get over that they weren’t inside! I miss them already.
PROMISE MADE
Joe, almost instantly upon arriving in Paris, said that he would like to rent a house here in France for a month when he retires. My response… “don’t tempt me with a GREAT IDEA, Yoyo!”
I would LOVE that. Eyes are watering again. Must be those damn dinner onions.
My heart is full from their visit. I am counting down to when I will see them on US soil in June – when I plan to come back for my precious godson’s baptism and many other visits including one to the French Embassy, where I will reapply for another visa. (I spoke with my lawyer here yesterday about logistics. Fingers crossed and breath held.)
MERCI BEAUCOUP
For those of you wondering… during their stay, Goldie Hawn was living the highlife! She bounced (almost literally, sweet girl) around from castle to castle in South Carolina, like Rarrie and Yoyo did in France! Thank you Pops and Martha for loving her so much while they were away! I am over the moon that she had such a ball of a time.
I’m off to rest from this wonderful week we had. Until next week - Xxo ac