KEEPING BUSY IN PARIS
... WHILE THE USA IS BUSY CALLING MY NAME
MY MIDDLE NAME IS — EFFICIENCY
Wednesday, when Simon left for work, I got up and was ready to run. (Ironic, since that particular day I didn’t “run” at all.) I had a laundry list (Pun, since I also did 6 loads that day. More on that later) of things to do.
I started by washing clothes, tidying the apartment, measuring a space for a bedside table (practically impossible to find 8” x 29” – but you know who did the impossible? Your’s truly!), text with friends to arrange a dinner in a few weeks and find out all the men's consignment in Paris, and pack my linen sheets that have been living in a pile on the guest room floor since I moved in — because we don’t want to use them.
On my first trip out for the day – I had a massive duvet cover in tow and a cumbersome breathing treatment machine slung on my back. (My ear has nearly fully recovered, thank you for asking. So it’s finally time to turn back in the machine and stop reliving my childhood years through daily vapors.)
After I delivered the machine to the pharmacy, I loaded an oversized washing machine, at the closest laundromat, with a duvet that needed cleaning. While that cycle speed-washed – 10€ for 20 minutes! Yes please! – I sought out to speed-buy a few household items.
Since I wasn’t sure if I could dry a down comforter without ruining it – I didn’t risk it and brought the soaking wet, and heavy as hell duvet back home. Where three days later, it is still baking in the sun to dry out the feathers. But looking and smelling fresh!
Before my second trip out for the day, I ate a quick salad (leftovers from the incredible niçoise salad we had the night before), packed over 10 pairs of Simon’s old pants that no longer fit and were also living in a pile on the guest room floor since I moved in, (and also that I thought he had told me he wanted to consign. Thank god though that the guy who I took them to wanted ummmm none of them. Because after I shared the news with Simon he insisted that he hadn’t told me to consign them. That he wanted to reconsider keeping them. Ooops! I chalked this up to just another lost in translation moment for us. (Who’s with me on this?! When dating someone who doesn’t share your native tongue lots and lots of things… that goes for words, jokes, one liners … sometimes things like this… get lost in translation. Am I right?), then I built his collapsible Brompton bike and slung the second heavy as hell bag of the day over my back – the sheets were going to Miranda.
En route over to Miranda's in the 16th, I remembered that I needed to pick up my bank card from the bank in her hood. A few weeks ago I couldn’t remember my ATM code to withdraw money. So, instead of offering a way to change the code, in order for me to keep the card, they instead, cut it up in front of me and charged me for a new one. Welcome to France! Absurd.).
After I got my new pristine card to access all my moolah, I biked over to Miranda’s where I got to see her off quickly before she caught a taxi to the airport. She’s en route to Cannes for the amfAR event at the Film Festival. I then I biked over to Plus que Parfait (where when I arrived, Benoit, the owner, was unlocking the door – I guess he had been on a break? Again.. Welcome to France! It was 2pm in the afternoon. Who knows why his shop was locked before that). I handed over Simon’s goods to him to review while I stayed with the bike outside (no bike lock. More on that later too.) until he returned. This is when he told me that I needed to wash them all and press them before anyone in consignment would take them. Loud and clear, Benoit! (Hence the 6 loads… you see now?).
Loved this man! He was as kind as he could be with me and so chic! And when I told him that I used to work in menswear for RRL… he started to practically drool. He laughed as he locked eyes with me and said, changing into a serious tone, “I’ll buy all of your RRL. Washed or not!” ha! I told him … “Oh, but Benoit. None of it’s for sale! Ever!” He told me another cool spot that I had planned to take Simon’s pants to (until I realized that he didn’t want me doing this) in the 17th. My hood! Troc-Hom.
So, reattaching that heavy as hell bag of Simon’s pants to the bike I decided, while I was in the hood, to pop into IKEA where I just knew they would have the table I needed. And they did! Thank god. Because I had done the impossible. Thanks to this 37 second video (that I may or may not… but definitely DID… have watched for 1200 seconds in a row) on HOW to fold the bike down (I forget every time). I walked into this huge shop with a sac full of mens pants - my guess is that it weighed 30lbs - and a collapsible bike - where my guess is that it weighed 50lbs. Heavy AF and dirty as hell!
This moment took me right back to my days in NYC. When us “city folk” are just surviving. And doing things like this (lugging around 70ish extra lbs because ummmm we have no other choice. There isn’t a car to keep our things in, or a large cart to push our things in once we’re in the shop - like there is in every other town of the world. Not in cities. In cities you fend for yourself. I was missing the conveniences that I knew all too well in Charleston. Where the average person would NEVER do what I was doing. Walking around that megastore lookin’ a site and pulling my back out practically with all the extra poundage just to get a table (that, like I said, I knew I’d find! Triumph worth the pulled muscles!), a trashcan, and countless other odds and ins for the bathroom.
As I reached home, the cherry on top of my efficient day – was walking into the building simultaneously with Mary, the president of the co-op here. To back up… weeks ago, coming home from that rainy night at Paule’s, when I “surprised” Simon at the soccer game she was hosting at her apartment. My key slipped off my chain and fell into the grate just outside of our apartment entrance. It was like hearing freedom fall. The key that fell was the basement key that was the current home for my bike. I haven’t been able to get her out since. (Thank gawd my other keys didn’t fall. Instead, miraculously, they fell into my collapsed umbrella somehow.)
So, for weeks now, I have been staring at Mary’s door hoping to see her come or go so that I can intercept get another copy made — releasing my James Chocolatine from her jail. And this efficient day?! Yep! Stars aligned. I explained the situation and then took her set of keys to get a double made. Also, to add double cherries on top, while at the locksmith getting my keys made, I also got two extra holes punched in my watch band. Two birds! One stone! (Am I the only one who thinks it’s odd that shoe repair and keys go hand in hand.. Or is it better suited to say, foot and door?! Wild to me. But convenient!)
When I arrived back to hang out the umpteenth load of pant-laundry the heavens opened and it was a downpour through the sun. In the south would call this type of storm a time when “the devil was beating his wife.” In the north it’s called a “sun shower” and in Paris it’s called “everyday!!!!!”
Still full of energy, I texted friends here in Paris to give me contacts for: their tennis coach (check!), their home masseuse (check!), their napoli hotel recs (check! We have a great one booked but will need to book at a different place for one night), their dinner availability for the coming weeks (check! check!). Then I texted with my uncle, Spivey, who is coming to town next week about our rendezvous (check!).
By the time I was wrapping up Simon came home to see all the new things I had bought for the apartment and for a quick smooch before he was off to have dinner with his friend, Roba.
PS: if you’re wondering — He says he loves his new bedside table!
DINNER IS SERVED
Turns out that while waiting on Roba to get home, he ran into Natacha, my friend who I’m just in love with. She actually lives just above Roba (this is how I met Natacha – she too was invited to Roba’s birthday soiree weeks ago at Ailan Passard’s), and has just launched Collection Mademoiselle, her fine jewelry vintage side-business. (Look her up! You will salivate at her inventory!)
So… once he came home later that night … he made me green with envy when he told me that he had impromptu drinks with her and Mark, her husband, before his dinner.
While he was there, I had a great night at home with myself. I finished my productive day by mending a blazer for him and two jackets for moi. (Sidenote, everything over here has shoulder pads. I get it! It’s definitely a “look” but I'm not trying to roughhouse. I’m trying to go out on the town and look feminine. Lots were removed this night.)
I also locked in on another episode with Bridget! I’m obsessed. Then… beyond tired (in the best, most productive way possible) I tried to go to sleep. But I couldn't. Another getting used to thing… When you anticipate the person you live with getting home so you’re just awake until you hear the door open and know they’re back – then you start to settle in. I saw him home, heard about his night, and then tucked in to read my French for Dummies until I finally started counting sheep.
USA IS CALLING MY NAME — IN ENGLISH
I am very much looking forward to my trip home in June. It is past time for me to have had a touchdown on US soil and lord am I craving all the things: family, friends, my SC beach, ease of talking anytime I want — to anyone I want to because I know the language, familiar smells, sights, and sounds, and of course, Goldie Hawn.
It was never going to be easy settling into a new culture. But I didn’t realize it would be this challenging. On a gut level – and on a reality level really – I have come to the realization this week that however long I live in this country, I will forever be a foreigner here. A little bit (always) on the outside. Even after I have mastered the language I will not be in the know of all the things. I won’t always understand the references to fill in the blank: politics, history of the city, brands, songs, shows etc. I am, and will forever be, foreign.
But don’t get me wrong. On the flipside… There are a lot of great things about being the foreigner. For one, people are intrigued by a foreigner so I draw attention and lots of questions which I love (most of the time) because I get to engage with people. Another great thing, I am growing and remembering emotions that I haven’t faced since I was little. Like: true humbleness, vulnerability, curiosity, challenge, fear, pressure, bravery, excitement, wonderment etc.
AND… best of all… I get to experience “first moments” all the time. Like eating jammy 3min eggs for breakfast.
I know that people are capable of doing ANYTHING they want to do. And I know that I am capable of staying here and making this my life. It’s choosing to do it when it feel so hard some days that is the tough part. For now, I’m still choosing to do it. Tears, homesickness, pressure, and frustration alike. Bring it on. For all those emotions, I am also feeling happiness, gratitude, challenge, growth, bravery, love, newness, and joy.
HOLIDAY DAYS
Last week we spent in Ponthoile. I always seem to get sad when I’m there. Hasn’t failed since I arrived in October. I think it’s 100% got to do with the language barrier that I have with Simon’s family. I think it’s also because it feels very close to home (very reminiscent of being at my family’s old beach house - family photos everywhere, old loved furniture to sit on, doors open, and people flowing in and out), and yet very far away from home (because it isn’t what I know). I get nostalgic there. I miss MY family when I'm there. I miss MY familiar things and familiar places and native language and … I just get homesick each time I go. Even though I love it! And his parents could not be more joyful and precious and loving and curious about me. I just crave my family when I’m there. It’s either the strangest or the most normal reaction. Or both??
As I highlighted in my last En Route, we had a lovely time together there this trip, Simon and moi. And icing on the cake. Two of his best friend’s Alexis and Julie had invited us to spend the night before our last night there at their house in Le Touquet.
Alexis grew up with Simon, so he’s one of his longest friends, and had arranged a huge dinner with several of their pals so to introduce me. So sweet! (I had met Alexis and his wife, Julie, back at Thanksgiving, when I cooked an American feast for Simon’s friends.)
Before we arrived, Simon had bet me that I wouldn’t get in the ocean (it was ICE). But I knew I would. So I accepted his bet to the tune of $100. Ahem… he still hasn’t paid up! (But shhhhh neither have I … and I owe him boatloads! We bet all the time!) Because I did it!!!! I went under the “mer de glace marron” (brown ice sea) twice. Merky, freezing, yet felt amazing!
We promptly got out and walked up the wide beach to visit with Alexis’s dad who had just arrived at their “cabin.” (These are locker rooms that line the sea wall. So clever! People keep their chairs, umbrellas, wine, snacks, bathing suits etc. there for easy access anytime they want a sea dip or to put their toes in the sand.) We all gabbed for a while (in French) and then made a beeline to the house, where in only 3 short hours we would have a house full with 10 of Alexis and Simon’s friends. The pressure would be on for moi… as I was the main attraction. They were coming to meet me.
At dinner I was sandwiched between two English speakers, Manu and Greg. Yet, in true AC puts pressure on herself form, I didn’t let myself flow in English. I attempted French all the livelong night and felt overwhelmed the whole time.
Manu was my favorite. He sat to my left and was so attentive, interested in what I had to say, and kind with me. I overheard Manu expressing words of understanding for me at one point during the night when I overheard him telling Simon and Julie that he understood where my frustration, loneliness, and pressure was coming from. Because… he and his wife had felt the same way when they lived abroad for 10+years. By the time I inserted myself into the conversation he said that” the first years are the worst. Yet, in three years … we will all have forgotten that you didn’t speak french tonight.” He was so encouraging and sweet. Hummmm, but all I heard was THREE YEARS!?? Oh my lord. I have to find a way to speed this along don’t know that I can take two more of this misfit-ism.
After everyone left, Julie, Alexis, Simon, and I went outside to smoke a final skinny before we tucked in. It was quiet there, beautiful and so reminiscent of the summers I spent in Amagansett, East Hampton, and Montauk… the house felt very Long Island and familiar. Oh! And I spotted an outside shower too. When can I move in? Paradise!
That night turned into day quickly. I saw every hour from the time we tucked away in our room. I cried all night long. After big dinner parties like this with all new people to me I tend to breakdown. I don’t always feel totally comfortable and I mask it all night which feels dishonest. So when I am in a safe place, behind a door in a bedroom let’s say, I seem to cry it all out. It has happened several times lately. But not this long!
I am very homesick for my friends, for people getting my jokes (I’m funny, you know! No one knows that here, but I am!), for aimless conversation about nothing and everything just because I’ll know all the words to say, for a HUG (everyone kisses here), and mostly, I am homesick for not feeling like an outsider.
My mother has always taught me that when we have a sensation to cry it’s because if we don’t our heads would swell. So! That’s my excuse. I needed to deflate my head before it bursts I guess.. So I did… all night long.
15 MORE MINUTES!
The next morning, when Simon went to beat his best friend at tennis – he left me to rest. He is sensitive to all of this change and hates seeing me in this condition. So, I took him up on taking a morning nap and fell fast and hard asleep for the two hours he was away. When I awoke, and he returned, we all went for a bike ride around their beautiful beach vacation town until it was time to prepare for the family lunch. This was when Alexis’s father would debut his new girlfriend to the family! Huge deal!
They teased me that it was a “girlfriendS” (plural) introduction to the family lunch… since I was in attendance too! So sweet.
While they got ready, I decided to pedal home… to the BEACH that is! The beaches are wide here. They go on for days. So I parked my bike, walked to a quiet and hard sand spot, sat, and watched the waves for almost an hour. I was told to be back in 30 mins before I biked away – but I knew I needed this break and more time than that. I needed this time with the sea. I needed to plant my feet and feel belongingness. The beach is alway this for me – she knows me best. All my secrets, my saddest and happiest moments, my breaststroke and my doggy paddle, she knows it all.
When I saw it was time for me to return I texted Simon that I had lost track of time and that I’d be late. He responded with “Take your time, my love.” So I did! I took 15 more minutes. As I took these final minutes I remembered words from my sweet friend from Montauk, Carol. She, her husband, and her daughter, Stella (who is still best friends with Boog (Sunny)) had coincidentally booked the same vacation week in Tulum, Mexico, as me one year. On their final morning there, we were all sitting at Posada Margherita enjoying breakfast on the beach together, when they got an email that their flight was delayed by (only) 15 minutes. You would have thought they had just learned that Biden would be elected for a second term in 2025 … because a sigh of relief came across all of us and an eruption of song. “15 more minutes! 15 more minutes!” That’s how I felt when Simon told me to take my time. Sometimes you just need “15 more minutes.”
I got to lunch where my eyes burned with tears. I couldn’t get over this outsider feeling that day for some reason. And unfortunately, my mood got the better of me. I didn’t speak the whole lunch. The only time I did, I did in French, and was spoken for by someone at the table. It’s normal, I’m sure. I have done this 1,000 times too in my life probably to people trying to say something in English. But I have noticed that most French natives try to speak for me in order to move along the conversation when I’m taking a minute to search for a word. And most of the time they guess wrong and take the sentence that I was trying to say – into a whole other direction. When this happens, depending on my mood, (not good that day) I sometimes let them just do it. That day – I didn't have the energy or the (correct) words (clearly since they didn’t know what I was trying to say) so, I just kept quiet and said yes to what they thought I meant.
We left them around 3pm and were Ponthoile bound for our final night with his family. It was Mother’s Day in the US that day – so I squeezed in a good, needed, facetime with the sweetest mama of all – mine!
When we arrived back in the city early on Monday morning, (we took an entire wrack on the train with all of our luggage — not including his bike!) I went for a 6 mile run. Felt unreal! I ran to Bois de Boulogne Parc and around Lac Inférieur. I needed to get out of my head. I needed to talk with friends (thank you Erica, Jane, Miranda, and Sarah for making me laugh this week), I needed to remember that I can give myself permission to take a brain break and switch to English when I need to. I need to remember not to put so much pressure on Simon to be everything for me. I need to remember to be everything for myself. And, let’s be honest, I need to blair Queen B more often and dance / run / sing out loud.
BRAIN BREAKS
While I was talking with my friend Sarah this week she reminded me that one of our friends has a son, Woody, who experiences unexpected seizures. The first time this happened to Woody he and his family were all, naturally, terrified. Yet now, everytime it happens, in order for Woody to feel comfortable and not panic when he’s having an episode, our friend will call out what’s happening – turn on the light to the situation if you will – with “Woody? Is your brain taking a little break, honey?” This puts him at ease to hear that it’s just a “little break" and it doesn’t make it so scary. I have decided that moving forward I will need to do this during times I am in freeze mode with the language. When I can’t think of the word in French that I am desperately searching for, so feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed with frustration. I too will simply turn on the light to the situation by saying out loud “Everyone, I’m taking a little brain break and switching to English for a bit.” I just know! Everyone will be supportive of this!
Simon encourages this too. For me to speak more English for now. He said that when I am at big parties like the one this past week - or around so many new people – I need not to try to speak French. I need to speak English so that they can get to know me and I can get to know them. It’s a “yes, and” situation as I like to call them. Because YES, I understand that this will make life easier for the time being, AND it will make it more challenging in the long run (I need to practice to progress). Catch 22. Especially when I am met constantly with… “en français” when people walk in a room hearing that Simon and I are speaking in English (pressure), or “yes, I speak english. But when I’m in France, I speak French” when someone French is asked if they can speak English (pressure), or “you need to practice or you’ll never learn” in the background when someone hears Simon speaking English to me on the phone (pressure), I just need to learn to take more brain breaks and remove this looming, always-constant, pressure.
Last night I had dinner with my dear, calm, sweet, American friend, Sarah, (who I met last summer in the sauna at SoHo House) at Le Truffaut. Here, I spoke French to the waiters and English to her! Bebe steps. Switching back and forth. (She’s experiencing the same outsider feeling I am. And yet has been speaking French since she was a child. Think it just comes with the territory of being an expat.)
In a few hours Simon and I will head to Jean-Luke and Roxanne’s home in Brittany for the long (another holiday in France. Welcome to France!) weekend. We are looking forward to more great meals like we had when we visited them for the New Year, more walks on the beautiful windy beaches, more vintage car rides, and more laughter. Only this time … all the more merrier… because Margot (my precious friend), her husband Gabriel (my other precious friend and Simon’s co-worker), and their two babies will be with us!
Until next time… xx ac