When I arrived in Marseille I headed straight to the Old Port, where my friend Gilles met back up with me and offered to take me on a moto tour of the city. The mistral winds were blowing something fierce, and I had never been on a scooter before. This did not seem like a winning combination, but I said “pourquoi pas” anyway and off we went. Continue reading
After a strong start in Montpellier, my whistle-stop tour of the South of France continued in Arles, a town that interested me because it was once home to Van Gogh, my favorite painter. I wanted to see the place that had inspired him to create some of his most beautiful work. Continue reading
Today I had my very first job interview in French. I stumbled in places, and trailed off in others, but it didn’t seem to matter. I think I did just fine overall.
Whether I get the job or not, making it through my first interview in a foreign language feels like an accomplishment in itself. When I talked to my dad a couple of years ago about his own experiences learning a second and third language, he revealed that he had gone on job interviews in English before he really knew how to speak it. I was in awe. At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever being capable of putting myself on the line like that.
And yet, I just did. And now I’m really proud of myself, and I’m eating a big pot de crème to celebrate.*
* Though let’s be honest, I would have eaten it anyway.
This Saturday in Paris is La Nuit Blanche, when art installations and performances pop up all over town and museums stay open until late into the night. I’m excited about it. I hope cafes stay open late as well because I’m going to need a recharge at some point if I’m going to wander around until the wee hours.
Meanwhile, this week I did more Internet-browsing than usual, and I have a bunch of interesting links to share.
Have a good weekend! I’ll try to put up my Arles pix next week…
Cartoonist Roz Chast draws a love letter to New York City – cockroaches and all.
Why am I am nomad?
The Smithsonian wrote about the “Lost State” of Franklin, an intriguing side note in American history that at one point I really wanted to make a documentary about. It’s a fascinating story, though the article barely touches the surface.
10 ways Prague keeps it weird…
…While Japan’s bathroom ghosts keep it strange and terrifying.
Beautiful photos from Les Halles, Paris’s main market in the 1950s. Sadly, it no longer exists – replaced by a mall, of all things.
I’ll teach my dog 100 (Yiddish) words.
The 20 best road trips on earth, according to Fodor’s.
Duping the tourists who went “slumming” in New York City’s Chinatown.
And finally, I really hope that by the time I leave Paris I will have my own love story to tell about the city. In the meantime, here is a beautiful one written by an Irish actress.
My original France plan was to 1. arrive in Paris, 2. spend a month doing informational meetings with the heads of communications for agencies and organizations that could give me work making videos about the European refugee crisis and other humanitarian issues, and 3. then head to the South of France to wander town to town until I found a sustainable place to base myself.
For various reasons, that never happened, and for better or worse, Paris seems to be becoming my home in France. But I did finally take a whirlwind tour of the South to at least see what I was missing. I spent five nights visiting five cities in Provence and Languedoc that I suspected I would love. And love them I did, though want to live in them, I did not – until my last stop.
But to begin at the beginning: Montpellier. I had seen such beautiful images of this place, I was convinced it would be heaven on earth. Here are some pictures: Continue reading
A roundup of some of the fabulous signs and storefronts I’ve wandered past in my strolls around Paris.
I would be willing to foot this store’s electricity bill and even throw in some replacement light bulbs if it meant I could see this sign in all its lit-up splendor.
My second sighting of a hair salon named after Obama. (First was in Benin.)
This sign is cool and also reminds me of the Godard movie, making it seem even cooler.
I just realized I’ve got three hair salons in a row. This one is housed in an old Art Deco dairy shop. The inside is super fabulous as well.
It’s a shame that I passed this bakery at a time of day when the brilliance of the gold-leaf artwork and lettering couldn’t be fully captured. It’s also a shame that it was closed for the summer holidays, as a peak through the windows revealed an interior seemingly unchanged since the Belle Epoque – pastel scenes painted on the molded ceilings, intricate tile on the floors, and lots of other beautiful details.
More Art Deco magnificence.
More neon / hair salon magnificence.
Still more Art Deco magnificence.
And the one that takes the cake. I know it’s sort of cheating, since this building’s star power comes from way more than the lettering. And it’s not even a storefront, it’s a very famous theatre. I tried to get inside but couldn’t get past the not-very-ornate lobby since it was too early in the day. I’ll just have to come back some time. Maybe I’ll even see a show!
Now that it’s October, I guess I should post my ode to September. 😉
I’ve made no secret of my ambivalence towards Paris. Apart from the rush of the energetic and unfamiliar, until this fall, it held no mystery nor chemistry for me. I was walking around in a daze of ennuie.
But all my lack of enthusiasm seems to have turned on a dime into infatuation now that autumn is here. The air feels tangibly crisp and the leaves have taken on a golden glow. The once-annoying gusts of winds that made summer days unpredictable now bring gentle showers of leaves spiraling down to the pavement. Paradoxically, in September the wind feels soothingly bracing whereas in May it felt bone-chilling.
I swear September feels warmer than the entirety of spring and summer. I’m not sure if this feeling is backed up by actual climatic data but it doesn’t matter – in this case feelings are much more important than facts.
The biggest difference since September is that a wave of bien-être – wellbeing – keeps washing over me, seemingly at random. I almost feel like the embodiment of hygge lately, which is weird because in August I felt precisely the opposite.
It’s like I am finally waking up to whatever it is that makes people adore this city so much. Which is unfortunate, since I’m running out of money and am going to have to move back to the States by the end of November unless I find more consistent work here (which is possible, though challenging).
When I shared the irony that I am finally starting to like Paris just as I prepare to potentially leave Paris, my American friend who’s lived here for 12 years offered the consolation, “Don’t worry, winter gets depressing as hell!”