IS IT COMING THROUGH?
LOVE AND PANIC and SUN-LESS DAYS
This past weekend was one for the books! Simon and I met at the train station – where we both were 30 minutes early. Unbeknownst to him – he’s taking a page from the American reality-tv-star Kim Zolciak’s book – never tardy for a party!
As we were boarding with Simon’s bike, and James Chocolatine (her first train ride and soon-to-be country road cruising with her new mama), we saw a pussy cat on top of a woman’s shoulder about to load onto the train as well. No leash. No crate. What in the wild F are people thinking?
I know I’m not a cat-lover per se. (Eh, let’s be real honest.. I’m not a lover, not even a liker of these four legged sneaky pouncers. In fact, when I was 21 ish, and NYC bound, to temporarily move in with a family friend who had the scariest of all the scariest cats – I mean, he answered to the name of Skittles (the sweet happy rainbow candy treat). I found it terrifying. Ha! I took my happy @#$ to a hypnotherapist to cure my furry feline fear. It helped. But I am still not a lover at all. Ok… I DERAIL.)
This wasn’t the only time this weekend we saw one of these types of people who propped their little pussy on a shoulder or HEAD. Whattttt?????? Yep. We saw that too in Amiens (Simon’s home town and also home to the largest cathedral in all of France! The Notre Dame of Paris could fit inside! It was magnificent) – where Simon took me for the day on Sunday en route back to Paris. Each time Simon sees something that is shocking – like a cat propped on a head, he lets out a loud “Oh my god!” – He’s wildly dramatic. And most of the time I think it’s for my personal amusement. It makes me die laughing.
We arrive in Ponthoile at around 6:30pm with our two wheelers ready for our facials. Excuse moi… I mean, the bikes were ready to kick it into high gear and get us home while WE let the good ol outdoor freezing mist work its magic on our faces. Natural spa. It was one of my favorite moments of the weekend – Soaking wet be damned. Alone on the road with Simon – only our bike lights shining the way to his very favorite place on the planet.
When we got to their home a short 20 mins later we were greeted by his sweet parents. May my French Submersion weekend begin!
I did my best to hold my own that night and Simon looked very proud of me in my effort / progress. I find it way easier / softer to attempt to speak when I’m only outnumbered by (max) 4 french native speakers. When it exceeds that number – I go, well, silent. As I did Saturday night. Oops! More on that later.
I didn’t know Simon’s parents, of course, before I met him – So I don’t know how they are when he’s not there. But when he is there … I witness a glow about them. His mother laughs at everything he says – she puts her hands over her mouth and giggles while she side glances at the people in the room to make sure they got the joke he just told. It’s precious and so flirtatious. She is tiny – so it’s très très mignon! And his father. He’s the sweetest man – who keeps a permagrin on his face while Simon is talking… about anything. Also très très mignon!
LOVE AND PANIC
We ate .. all the livelong day while there.
On Friday night we had scallops with leeks, and his mother’s homemade flan for dessert. Delicious! On Saturday morning, we had brioche toast with the famous Ponthoile butter and homemade jam with coffee. We woke up at 10am (you can sleep for days out at their country home. Simon’s room is in the side house that used to be a barn, I’d imagine, because at night he closes the two black exterior doors. No light comes in at all! And even with that – for some reason, I don’t sleep. I told Simon that I think it’s too quiet. I remember moving out of NYC and landing in SC – where I also couldn't sleep at the beginning because there wasn’t any city humm to lull me to beddy bye. Same with this place. It’s so peaceful it’s almost too – if that’s possible) — so by the time we finished breakfast, we had missed the hours to go for a walk or bike ride. Therefore, on to the next meal – we started preparing lunch. On the menu: pork milanese with an arugula and parmesan pasta with toasted pine nuts. I did mention right? Simon doesn’t cook simple. It was INCROYABLE!
That night, another feast: felt like home because it was what we call a “casserole,” everything in one dish and baked to perfection: potatoes, ham and creamy cheese.
That afternoon we went for a walk on the beach at Le Crotoy and then made our way back to the house for Simon to change for his tennis match with his brother. During which, I took James Chocolatine for a bike ride back over to Le Crotoy (because it’s only about 30 mins away on vélo), where I sat on the tip of the peninsula and watched the kite surfers for a good 30 minutes. Just in time for my feet to reach a solid brick of ice temperature. I then pedaled in search of the bar. When I finally came across one – I perched my bike outside, ordered une demi-pinte de bière and sat outside to enjoy the fresh air, connect with some friends on WhatsApp, and possibly smoke a skinny cigarette.
Nothing makes me feel more free than doing that! Isn’t it wild? I think because it’s forbidden and always was when I grew up. Naturally! I mean… cigarettes have been known to kill people. But j’adore ca every now and then. I used to hide my smokes from my mama in highschool. Even though I’m pretty 100% certain… positive in fact... that she was smart enough to smell the smoke radiating from my hands – in spite of my attempt to mask the odor by wearing winter gloves in the dead of summer while inhaling. Ha! The things we do in our adolescence.
I biked back, and just before I set out I had this thought to send Simon a text to let him know. Unfortunately, I didn’t. Bad mistake. Turns out, Simon had tried to call me three times while I was cycling home, in the dark. I didn’t hear my phone ring even though I had turned it on loud that night for this very reason. Sadly – my lack of answering sent the Quirets into an official panic. Simon said he drove over to Le Crotoy to make several tours in search of me. His brother also was looking in his car, and their sweet parents were home pacing in fear that something had happened to me. So sweet and yet so unnecessary if I HAD ONLY COMMUNICATED! Lesson learned.
When I turned onto the long street that led me to their home, I pulled over to the side to let the car behind me pass. It was Simon. He looked stressed and worried and relieved all at the same time.
I was humiliated when I arrived home after learning that I had caused such a panic. They were SO excited to see me – safe.
IS IT COMING THROUGH?
I have recently heard an expat say that even though she can speak French she still feels like her personality doesn’t come through. I get it. Moi aussi! I can’t say that I’m speaking French yet, as she does - alas, I do understand this feeling. I’m actually pretty funny in english. I’m a storyteller and an exaggerator. Yet, in this new language. I think I come across as more serious. I come across short-phrases (which, depending on who you ask, could possibly be a bonus not a shortcoming! Ha. As y'all read every week.. I can be a biiiiiiiit long winded)
Also, when your personality is temporarily dimmed due to the obvious translation and cultural differences – sometimes you feel lonely. It’s the only word I know how to describe this particular sensation. I am mute a lot of the time because it takes me a long time to come up with the structure of the sentences and oftentimes, by the time I am ready to say whatever I have been constructing in my head … those around me have already taken the conversation into 100 new directions.
Simon and his family are very patient with me! Simon especially. He understands me most of the time and translates to his family when they don’t follow what I’m attempting to say. But when I get to be outnumbered (for me, that’s over 4) – I become a MUTE. Rarity for me in english! I don’t know how to communicate and I get tired. My brain is working on overload trying to catch any one word that I recognize in French .. so as to follow the 90 mph conversation that’s happening in front of my very eyes. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and zone out.
One of Simon’s friends had dinner with us several weeks ago. When she learned that I was taking French language classes – she said. “That’s great! You must learn French! After all, you don’t want to miss the party.” Ahhhh I loved how Margy said this. Because it’s true. With any language – you will miss the party if you don’t know how to communicate or understand or participate in the conversations. That’s how I feel when I’m outnumbered. I’m missing the party.
Simon reminds me a lot that I will soon be over this hard language-barrier-hump and it will be easy. When I’m having smart days – I remember what I have always believed. You wouldn’t know the good-feelings without the bad-feelings first. (This isn’t necessarily bad.. But it’s not necessarily good either at the moment.) Yet, when I’m having my dumb days and allow myself to feel defeated etc. wow. It can be a spiral.
I am in my second month of intensive classes and loving my new students. The more I go to class the more I am understanding. I still have moments of tear stinging frustration when I don’t get the homework right. But then I look around and everyone is in the same boat I'm in. Even the best speaker is still accidentally speaking in past tense when he means future. Even though we’re all different biological ages, we’re all the same in class. Bébés.
PARIS EST À PETIT MONDE…
Hummmmm randomly ran into my Sheyda and Kevin on Tuesday in Jardin du Luxembourg. They were back from their jaunt down to Cape Town. Paris is so so so small. We caught up for a bit and then they sought out for a day of museums, and I, for a day of homework and arranging my birthday fête.
En route to BAMBINO – memorizing how to ask in French if a reservation was possible to make for my birthday party on Friday night that I wanted to have there – I got a text from Sheyda asking me to meet her at SoHo House for a drink at 10pm. I felt like a rebel. 10pm drinks? On a school night?! I’m in!!!
We had a ball! Simon was at a dinner and it felt so nice to have my own plans too. It gave me the sensation that Paris is becoming my city as well.
I met two new friends this night – one in the wait for it … wait for it.. If you can only imagine.. the sauna! Ahaha my hotbox of friendships. I’m 3 for 3 with this way of meeting pals (Sarah, Mel, and now Paulina). And then one of Sheyda’s new friends – Dhruv (pronounced Drew with a V).
She said she “pulled an AC” when she told me about how she met him. She sat beside him on her flight down to Cape Town last week and then exchanged numbers so that they could all get drinks when they were back in Paris before she flew out. That IS definitely pulling an AC! I rarely meet a stranger. (Remember Tess, who I told you about from London a few weeks ago? I did virtually the same with her. Met her on the streets when I was there several years ago – asking for directions. 20 blocks later, we were fast-friends and I was being invited into her townhouse for tea.)
Druhv is planning to pop by my birthday party for a drink tonight actually. I don’t want to toot my own horn. But I already have my fingers tapping excitedly on the table as I’m plotting who to set him up with. Yes, if you’re wondering. I do ALWAYS play cupid (and happy to report I got it right for two of my besties. I was their ring-bearer in 2017.) So fingers crossed I’m 2 for 2 tonight. Stay tuned.
Sheyda left this week and before she got out of my sight for a while – in came Amanda. One of our mutual dear friends who’s laugh is contagious! She’s over for the Textworld show. She has her own tennis apparel line, Spence, and is shopping vendors for material. The day Amanda landed was Sheyda’s final day here, so we met at Judy Market for a little lunch rendezvous. Oh how I smiled! Actually, I think my next full week will be a promise of permagrins. I will have had three besties here visiting moi (sheyda, amanda, and sarah)
Ok… leaving you with another …
GREAT NIGHT in Paris
I got to see Seldon yesterday at an Anna Kloots book event. It was so flirty and feminine. Florals EVERYWHERE. We drink mini flutes of champagne and split the most decadent muffin/loaf of bread/pastry concoction that I have ever eaten. (To paint a proper picture of this treat, and get those tastebuds of yours firing… When I cut in.. nutella oozed out for days. DE CA DENT!)
I didn’t know of Anna Kloots before this event. But the Q + A blew me away. Seldon asked if she knew how to speak French. And I asked if she had always known that she would move to Paris. She said she had been studying the language since she was twelve years old, with a short 5 year break, and now, speaks Franglish with her boyfriend. A mix of French and English. He piped up and said. “I understand about 75% of what she says.” hahaha What???!!! So, you’re saying that I’m not the only American in Paris to sometimes feel like I’ll only get to a good 75%?
She too moved to Paris on a whim (as yours truly did last summer) after needing a life change. I want to be her best friend. Seldon and I are plotting the how-to as I type.
Before I had gone to the event, it had hit me that day. I am actually living in Paris and trying to make a go at it. I have left all of my familiar things.
And on a dark – no sun at all – kind of week, as this one, the pressure has felt real! You feel good on the days when you’re in class learning to speak, seeing magnificent views everywhere you look, a few glimpses of sunshine, being with the person you love..etc. and then you feel bad on the other days…when your eyes tingle because you’re beyond exhausted and starving (I mean, who remembered that school would make you this hungry!? I certainly didn’t. I’m like a growing adolescent – eating (myself) out of house and home) and for the life of you you can’t remember anything that you learned in class from the day before, the weather is dark, and you haven’t seen your sweet-pea in days. Those days are the tough ones! This week has been more like that for moi.
I have let myself sob twice. I just needed to. My mother has always told me that we cry so that our heads don't swell. I think that is her way of saying it’s ok to give permission to being sensitive at times and releasing by way of a good boo hoo. So I did. I remember feeling this way during the winters in NYC some. You would think it was starting to get warmer/sunnier and then March would happen and then uh oh… here came April with another slushy snow storm. I’m beginning to think that Paris is similar to this and some days just feel more intense than others – like you need an extra hit of Vitamin D.
But.. then you have precious moments that remind you that this is exactly where you want to be! This is your home now and you made it happen! Life is good. And full of gifts. Speaking of… I have received my first housewarming gift and it is the light of my life – quite literally this week. Sheyda gave me a precious vintage green lamp. My place is starting to feel like home… after all. I love it! I picked it up from her hotel she was staying at after the book event and en route to meet Simon's nephews!
Ah! They are edible. These are the moments that are BLISS here.
They were so handsome, so smart, so in love with their uncle, so curious, driven, tall, must I go on? I'm a big fan of them both! And as a sweet gesture… so that we all could practice our foreign languages … We made a deal that I would speak French to them, and they would speak English to me. It some-what worked. Although, I think they didn’t understand me as much as I did them. C’est la viv… the night was great.
TODAY
I biked home this morning at 6:45am. I couldn’t sleep. That's been a running theme lately for me.
The streets were still. The lights of hotels were blazing with guests having their first morning coffees. I could see that there were a number of people who were wide awake in this gorgeous city – just like me at that hour. I took it in, and enjoyed my fast pedal home. When I arrived, I immediately crawled into bed – put my eye mask on and tried to fall asleep. I think I did – waking up to a strange thought/dream that involved a mirror and an apartment that was mine but it wasn’t mine … you know?!
When I finally decided to get up. I took myself to Recto Verso for a coffee. I ordered in French and while he made my cappuccino, I sat on the stool beside the bar to talk more with the most PATIENT and kind owner, Kevin. He and his partner own this precious coffee shop on my street and it warmed my heart (and tummy with the extra hot cappuccino that he made for me). He was taking the time to listen to me and smile as I told him about my move. All in French. He encouraged me so much. He told me that his partner had moved from Barcelona without any French and now… three years of speaking it everyday together. (Messing up. Being corrected. Taking time to learn. Think through the structure before he blurted out. Having confidence (as Kevin said I do. I think I’m faking him out ;)) He said his partner is now 100% fluent. Gave me hope!
He told me to do it. Don’t be afraid. Don't stop practicing. Stay confident. What a gift this moment was for me!
MY ANNIVERSAIRE
Tonight I am hosting my first birthday party here in Paris. My birthday is on the 12th. But I had a free night and wanted to party – have a day to recover – before Sarah arrives on Sunday. I have hosted a birthday party for myself every year since I was around 23 in NYC, then CHS, and now PARIS. They are always a BLAST! With a mix of old and new friends. My plan is to wear a red dress, high heels, dance when it gets late, and stumble home with a smile on my face.
Until next week, when I’ll be a full year older.. Xxo ac
What a joy you are! Happy Birthday!
Happy early birthday my love!