I had a moment yesterday, walking along the Seine near the Île St. Louis where the river beomes narrow and slightly curves, its stone walls lined with trees that are now turning the glorious burnt orange and yellow trademark colors of Autumn. It was perfect walking weather, mild with a slight playful breeze, and it felt truly like a dream. I really had to take a moment and thank the Universe for letting me have this amazing experience. With that said, don’t get me wrong here. There have been many times I’ve been snapped out of this dream-like trance into a harsher reality. There are things you see and hear and experience in a city that you might only read about elsewhere. The noise and traffic alone can at times be shocking to your senses. Simple tasks can deplete even the strongest of spirits and test your patience. It can be a roller coaster of sorts. It can trick you and play with your emotions.

A few weeks ago I felt that the whole city was down on Paris. Everywhere I went and everyone I met seemed to want to get away. I became weary of telling people we were from California only to be met by “That’s my dream! To live in California” I would laugh and explain it was my dream to live here. In someways this was familiar to me because I had heard much of the same when I moved to New York City. A lot of disenchantment with city life and idealization of California lifestyle. Which hey, I’m not saying I can’t understand it. California certainly has an understandable attraction. I started wondering if this “grass is always greener notion” was just a human attribute or a flaw per se. That maybe some carry more than others, myself included. But then I found myself wondering really–who could not love it here? I had shared the same sentiment as Adriana in Midnight in Paris in that “..if Paris exists and anyone could chose to live anywhere else in the world-  that will always be a mystery to me…” but even she wanted to live in a different era- La Belle époque over the Jazz Age 20’s.

I walked around a bit sullen for a few days. Like most things in life emotions are always a progression that are built up over a course of events or time. We had just come off of a fabulous weekend trip to Normandy and had ended it by visiting the American Cemetery. A very prolific and heavy experience. Upon realizing I had never seen Saving Private Ryan we watched this the next night (sans kids) I woke up in the morning having dreamt of those horrors only to read about the horrific shooting in Vegas and feeling that utter despair we all go through in times like these- and so the week kind of rolled out that way. By mid-week it peaked when in dire need of a restroom (always a fun experience in the city) I ran into a cafe and promised to buy a bottle of water if they let me use their restroom. The young girl and man at the bar gave each other a look and rolled their eyes. When I returned to get my water, to my horror, I was out of cash and they wouldn’t take a credit card. Now it looked like I had planned this all along. I apologized profusely but was met with more eye rolls and dismissiveness. Aside from being humiliated, I began to feel a bit defensive (never a good quality). I wanted to say to them “You know I love your country and your people. Really truly do. I actually defend you to your critics” I even imagined telling her she was acting like a real bitch (en Francais) a line I had memorized from a movie- but mercifully didn’t have the courage. I walked out with a bit of a bruised ego and feeling like “une stupide americaine”

By Friday my mood was lifting a bit with the weekend in sight. Running errands, I befriended a very sweet shopkeeper and after chatting with her for ten minutes I confided in her about my experience, and how so many people seemed to want to get out of Paris. She dismissed this with one wave of her hand and said “that’s everywhere and you can’t listen to them. The city is fabulous and if people don’t see that, they won’t see it anywhere”. And just like that I felt revalidated. Of course it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks, but a mood and energy can really kill the vibe at times.

So not every moment in Paris is perfect, and idyllic and magical but there are many. More than anything I am realizing I love the spontaneity and uniqueness to living here. I might walk down a wrong street only to discover the home of Oscar Wilde, or step into a Church and  find myself crashing a funeral (I know a bit morbid but fascinating), experience an impromptu opera (on the streets) by one of the most beautiful singers I have ever witnessed, enjoy the mouth-watering smells coming from the boulangeries and pâtisseries all through the day. Point being is you cannot get bored here, unless you are walking around completely devoid of all your senses.

It has been a lovely October and our very first real fall in over ten years (I suppose that would make it the kids first) and I alternate from feeling as if we have seen more of the city than a lot of people might in a year, to feeling like every time I turn the corner I am met by something surprising. We are now most likely transitioning out of the honeymoon phase and into the more comparative stage. Comparing the nuances between home life and here, that is. I have found humor can be of much help. Some of the stereotypes revealed:

• Yes everyone smokes. I’m actually lucky to not be too bothered by this, but I am

  

  sometimes shocked at how many people smoke knowing exactly how horrible it is for you. The cigarette boxes here even have ghastly photos showing the consequences of smoking (I’ve never studied an american cigarette box so not sure if we do this) I can’t help but find it funny when I sit next to a chic looking group of ladies and/or men with their cartons on the table displaying these almost inhumane images.

• At any time of the day you will see a ridiculous number of people carrying around baguettes (hey the Boulangeries do more than just look pretty people) I am a proud baguette toting lady now as well.
• Service takes forever. You need to plan well in advance for your check and always need to ask for it (they actually consider it rude here to give it to you before you ask). This also works in your favor because they have no problem with you taking a table for two hours even if just for un café!
• Setting anything up here (detailed in my gripes earlier about a French bank account) takes forever. I’m sure there is a foreign component here but in general the sense of urgency is nil.
• In a land where things move a bit slower this does not hold true for their metro system which is the fastest and most efficient public transportation I’ve ever experienced (and blows NYC subways away)
• French people are genuinely lovely. If you give them a chance and don’t come in as a demanding (hate to say it but yes, American) they are quite receptive and fun. And they really love Americans. Especially Californians 🙂
• Protests or as they call them “manifestations” are a way of life and a normal occurrence. The most recent one I witnessed was a retirement inspired march and I couldn’t believe how many people of retirement age and much older showed up (I would say a strong percentage with walkers and canes and their effort was not lost on me)
• Café culture is beyond vibrant. I love the intrigue of seeing people breaking bread or drinking a café or having a glass of wine at any time of the day.
• The food is truly amazing. The butter the bread (and as good as the bread is I now

  

  see the bread as a vehicle for the butter which is heavenly) the pastries, the crêpes, the cheese. It’s their pride and it shows (or should I say tastes) wonderfully.

• True to many cities (especially in Europe) everything starts later here. Cash just had a birthday party for a classmate turning ten years old that went from 6pm-10pm. The disco ball on the invite was no joke.
• Cars park wherever they possibly see fit (including blocking entrances and other cars) and we’ve watched many amusing situations arise and street fights as a result.

  

So many more observations and almost too many to list but in the end you realize that going into anything your expectations of a perceived outcome are so important. Aside from just having a fabulous time in Paris and every experience  being of  a wonderful and storybook nature quality, I realize that these tougher life lessons are perhaps even a more important aspect of being here. This was highlighted one day as we sat on the grass at the Champs de Mars and watched all the silly things people were doing to get a good picture of themselves with the Eiffel Tower backdrop. We were all amused by this and in particular watching two girls, one who was trying to do a flying leap of some sorts and the other a handstand, and both looked like it might be the first time trying such acrobatic feats. I watched in amusement and honestly at times embarrassment for them, and after a few minutes of observing all the failed attempts at getting their priceless shot I realized that it didn’t matter. They were having so much fun trying to get the shot- practically doubled over in laughter with their photographing friends. And that was it. That was where the moment was. Not the picture. Inspired I wanted to capture this but instead I took note and made a reflection. The process at times humiliating, less than perfect, frustrating and vulnerable are really the endearing aspects of life itself.