As I sat at my favorite spot at the kitchen table, full view of the gorgeous property out the back window, I was watching little cousins giggling as they peaked out from behind their hiding spots as their grande cousine Canadienne, Gabrielle was running across the yard searching for her little cousins in a joyful game of hide and go seek. Nathalie was snuggled up on the couch watching Bambi with 4-year-old Delphine, her arm cradled around her admiring petite cousine. It had taken a few weekends at my uncle Xavier’s country house, for my girls to feel this comfortable. But each time we saw our Parisian family, Nathalie and Gabrielle’s comfort levels grew exponentially.
We were fortunate to spend some wonderful family weekends at my uncle’s country house just outside of the big city during our Paris adventure. Some weekends it was just the three of us with my uncle and aunt. Other weekends, it was pure mayhem, with up to 24 of us, including 11 children, 7-years-old and younger. At the beginning it was tough for the girls to be around all these new family members. Yes they had met most of them before but last time they had been 7 and 4-years-old. Life changes quickly at these tender ages, so do personalities and comfort levels. This was certainly true for me as well. I could see that my girls were looking to me to see how maman felt, how maman fits in, how maman feels. Funny how my comfort level shot straight up with my children looking on; forced yes, but so glad for the big push.
Yes one of my biggest challenges in France has always been for me to feel completely comfortable with my Parisian family. As a child I would see my aunts and uncles and cousins perhaps several times every few years for a dinner or two. Not exactly enough time to develop bonds and relationships. My sister and I would be sitting at la table des enfants, a separate dining table for the children, our legs almost hitting our chins as we sat on miniature chairs. And being 5 years older than my eldest cousin did not help, we had very little in common. This year, these weekends at the country house, Christmas en famille, museum visits together, lunch, coffee dates, shopping, with a year to spend time with them, our relationships and my comfort level grew. My mother often talks about how important it is for future generations of our families to stay in contact over the expansive ocean that separates us. But this year I heard my reserved uncle Xavier, my mother’s brother, tell us how important this will be when they are no longer around. Moments like this only reinforce how important it was for us to spend time in France and really get to know les Demortreux and their ever-growing families.
Gabrielle playing Uno with Mathieu and Alban. Nathalie sitting at the big country dining table showing my cousin’s husband, Nicolas, how to use her iPad. Gabrielle playing badminton with Patrick, my eldest cousin Valerie’s husband. Nathalie happily helping Tante Simone make dinner. A week after we returned to Calgary, I received an e-mail from my cousine Laetitia. She signed off her message with a salutation I have never seen before from my French family, avec toute mon affection, with all my affection. I immediately realized that, yes, we were all feeling much more at ease with each other and were spending time together because we wanted to, not because we had to. Another success for Tai Girls: family bonds. Objective number two for our year, happily checked off the list. √
Yes, we love Paris indeed!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Taking Stock - Part 1
“There is never any ending to Paris, and the memory of each person who had lived in it differs from that of any other. Paris is always worth it, and you received in return for whatever you brought to it.”
Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast
As I sit here at 5am on a Sunday morning, no longer able to sleep, still jet lagged, I wonder what the three Tai girls brought to Paris and what we received in return. What was our year all about? Going to Paris we certainly had goals in mind; what we wanted to accomplish and hoped to gain from this experience. Did we achieve these? Can we check our goals off our list? Now that we are back in Calgary, it is time to take stock of our year.
The year in Paris (and my blog) started with me sitting in a café after dropping Gabrielle off for her first day of school. The Frenchman beside me struck up a conversation and the second sentence out of his mouth was “what a lovely English accent you have." For a transplanted half Canadian half French woman, hoping to fit in, this was not the most encouraging way to commence the year. Luckily our French improved over the year, some of us faster than others.
It only took a month of school for Nathalie to start sounding like a Parisian adolescent, stylish mumbling included. Her accent is impeccable; any hint of the Canadian is completely gone. By October, she was correcting my French. By November she was rolling her eyes at me when I made mistakes, looking embarrassed in front of her new friends. I brought this on myself though, as this was one of our main goals for the girls, for them to speak French better than I do. I did not factor in the 11 year old attitude and the rolling of the eyes.
Gabrielle had higher to climb and more work to do. She did not disappoint. She was in special lunch time sessions with her teacher for students with French issues. Come December, Gabrielle was told she no longer needed to attend the lunch time sessions. By January, Gabrielle was correcting my French. Apparently I should have been attending these sessions with her. But a week before our departure back to Canada a French friend told me that he could almost not hear my accent when I spoke French. I did not question him any further, took this as a compliment and quickly changed the subject.
A few days later, with some good family friends and apparently speaking French with barely any accent, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake.” Kristian is my younger brother. Years ago when he was 12-years-old and we were in Paris he commented to our French family about the peanut butter he liked back home because it did not have any “preservatives” in it. In French, "preservatifs" means condoms. Needless to say, our family was quite delighted to hear that Canadian peanut butter did not contain condoms. Yes, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake” two days before leaving Paris. At least after a year of school in Paris the girls speak French better than I do. Apparently my French still needs some work.
The only French I wished we had left behind are the lovely schoolyard words the girls have learned and occasionally use –which I will not repeat here. These are some words that are better left at recess at their Parisian schools. Merde, this is not the kind of French I brought them to France for, goddammit!
I can proudly check off our list: French language skills (with some bonus words too). √
Next, getting to know zee intimidating Parisian relatives....
Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast
As I sit here at 5am on a Sunday morning, no longer able to sleep, still jet lagged, I wonder what the three Tai girls brought to Paris and what we received in return. What was our year all about? Going to Paris we certainly had goals in mind; what we wanted to accomplish and hoped to gain from this experience. Did we achieve these? Can we check our goals off our list? Now that we are back in Calgary, it is time to take stock of our year.
The year in Paris (and my blog) started with me sitting in a café after dropping Gabrielle off for her first day of school. The Frenchman beside me struck up a conversation and the second sentence out of his mouth was “what a lovely English accent you have." For a transplanted half Canadian half French woman, hoping to fit in, this was not the most encouraging way to commence the year. Luckily our French improved over the year, some of us faster than others.
It only took a month of school for Nathalie to start sounding like a Parisian adolescent, stylish mumbling included. Her accent is impeccable; any hint of the Canadian is completely gone. By October, she was correcting my French. By November she was rolling her eyes at me when I made mistakes, looking embarrassed in front of her new friends. I brought this on myself though, as this was one of our main goals for the girls, for them to speak French better than I do. I did not factor in the 11 year old attitude and the rolling of the eyes.
Gabrielle had higher to climb and more work to do. She did not disappoint. She was in special lunch time sessions with her teacher for students with French issues. Come December, Gabrielle was told she no longer needed to attend the lunch time sessions. By January, Gabrielle was correcting my French. Apparently I should have been attending these sessions with her. But a week before our departure back to Canada a French friend told me that he could almost not hear my accent when I spoke French. I did not question him any further, took this as a compliment and quickly changed the subject.
A few days later, with some good family friends and apparently speaking French with barely any accent, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake.” Kristian is my younger brother. Years ago when he was 12-years-old and we were in Paris he commented to our French family about the peanut butter he liked back home because it did not have any “preservatives” in it. In French, "preservatifs" means condoms. Needless to say, our family was quite delighted to hear that Canadian peanut butter did not contain condoms. Yes, I made the dreaded “Kristian mistake” two days before leaving Paris. At least after a year of school in Paris the girls speak French better than I do. Apparently my French still needs some work.
The only French I wished we had left behind are the lovely schoolyard words the girls have learned and occasionally use –which I will not repeat here. These are some words that are better left at recess at their Parisian schools. Merde, this is not the kind of French I brought them to France for, goddammit!
I can proudly check off our list: French language skills (with some bonus words too). √
Next, getting to know zee intimidating Parisian relatives....
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Ingrid's Top Ten Lists
TOP EIGHT THINGS I'M NOT GOING TO MISS ABOUT PARIS
I could not even come up with 10 here! That is a good thing!
8. Motorcycles driving on the sidewalks. You are a vehicle, not a pedestrian - get on the road!
7. Too many friggin' tourists most of the year. In some areas you really have to fight your way through the crowds.
6. The humidity. Winters chill you to the bone and the hot summer days are rather dreadful (yes it is +34 degrees C out as I write this.)
5. Expensive life, expensive everything!
4. "Kids at school asking me what the F word means." This one is from Gabrielle as I could not come up with enough of my own.
3. Racism. I don't know how many times I have heard this year that all the problems in France are caused by immigrants. And calling the man who owns the corner store "the little arab" and then saying that this is acceptable as it is part of the culture. Don't get my started on these.
2. Cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, 2nd hand smoke, smokers in general. Parents smoking around their children and pushing baby strollers with a cigarette in their hand.
1. And the number one thing I'm not going to miss about Paris....yes, all the dreaded, messy, smelly dog poo on the sidewalks and in the streets of this lovely city!
TOP TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO MISS ABOUT PARIS
- of course, these are, besides the obvious, like my wonderful French family & my new friends - it was difficult to stop at 10, there is so much we are going to miss!
10. Well dressed, good looking men, in nicely tailored, fitted suits. The men here know how to dress. And you never tire of getting an appreciative look from them as you walk on by.
9. The Metro - convenient & easy. And the metro rumbling under the apartment. Love the feeling & sound. Makes me feel alive!
8. Velib System. The pick up & drop off bike system is great and so convenient. After saying when I first arrived "I would never ride a bike in Paris," I did, and often. Even managed to do so in a skirt & heels!
7. Our tiny 50sq m apartment. Easy, intimate & low maintenance! And our fabulous balcony.
6. The girls' excellent schools. Walking to and from school. No driving/being a school bus for 10 months was lovely!
5. Dare I say it, but the French people! Their passion; lively discussions, encores at the theatre, not being afraid to express their opinions, and yes, often saying exactly what they are thinking. Funny how I did not appreciate this trait much while growing up with a French mother though.
4. The baguettes, les pains au chocolats, le fromage, the wine, all zee food! And importantly, le marche with my Apple Man! No saran wrapped food for a year was refreshing.
3. Weekends at the family country house. Relaxing, enjoyable, beautiful setting, fresh air and spending time with our loving French family. Seeing my girls chasing their little French cousins around the yard made this whole year worth it.
2. My Writing Group. Inspiration, motivation, helpful ideas and friendship.
1. And the number one thing I'm going to miss about Paris...how Paris makes me feel! I feel alive, free, adventurous, curious, impulsive, feminine, sexy, like anything is possible. There is always something new, something to do, always learning, discovering, about the city, about the people and about myself.
As Audrey Hepburn said in Sabrina,
"PARIS IS ALWAYS A GOOD IDEA"
I could not even come up with 10 here! That is a good thing!
8. Motorcycles driving on the sidewalks. You are a vehicle, not a pedestrian - get on the road!
7. Too many friggin' tourists most of the year. In some areas you really have to fight your way through the crowds.
6. The humidity. Winters chill you to the bone and the hot summer days are rather dreadful (yes it is +34 degrees C out as I write this.)
5. Expensive life, expensive everything!
4. "Kids at school asking me what the F word means." This one is from Gabrielle as I could not come up with enough of my own.
3. Racism. I don't know how many times I have heard this year that all the problems in France are caused by immigrants. And calling the man who owns the corner store "the little arab" and then saying that this is acceptable as it is part of the culture. Don't get my started on these.
2. Cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, 2nd hand smoke, smokers in general. Parents smoking around their children and pushing baby strollers with a cigarette in their hand.
1. And the number one thing I'm not going to miss about Paris....yes, all the dreaded, messy, smelly dog poo on the sidewalks and in the streets of this lovely city!
TOP TEN THINGS I'M GOING TO MISS ABOUT PARIS
- of course, these are, besides the obvious, like my wonderful French family & my new friends - it was difficult to stop at 10, there is so much we are going to miss!
10. Well dressed, good looking men, in nicely tailored, fitted suits. The men here know how to dress. And you never tire of getting an appreciative look from them as you walk on by.
9. The Metro - convenient & easy. And the metro rumbling under the apartment. Love the feeling & sound. Makes me feel alive!
8. Velib System. The pick up & drop off bike system is great and so convenient. After saying when I first arrived "I would never ride a bike in Paris," I did, and often. Even managed to do so in a skirt & heels!
7. Our tiny 50sq m apartment. Easy, intimate & low maintenance! And our fabulous balcony.
6. The girls' excellent schools. Walking to and from school. No driving/being a school bus for 10 months was lovely!
5. Dare I say it, but the French people! Their passion; lively discussions, encores at the theatre, not being afraid to express their opinions, and yes, often saying exactly what they are thinking. Funny how I did not appreciate this trait much while growing up with a French mother though.
4. The baguettes, les pains au chocolats, le fromage, the wine, all zee food! And importantly, le marche with my Apple Man! No saran wrapped food for a year was refreshing.
3. Weekends at the family country house. Relaxing, enjoyable, beautiful setting, fresh air and spending time with our loving French family. Seeing my girls chasing their little French cousins around the yard made this whole year worth it.
2. My Writing Group. Inspiration, motivation, helpful ideas and friendship.
1. And the number one thing I'm going to miss about Paris...how Paris makes me feel! I feel alive, free, adventurous, curious, impulsive, feminine, sexy, like anything is possible. There is always something new, something to do, always learning, discovering, about the city, about the people and about myself.
As Audrey Hepburn said in Sabrina,
"PARIS IS ALWAYS A GOOD IDEA"
Friday, June 24, 2011
Two weeks and not counting
With good bye lunches and dinners starting last week, I can no longer deny that we are soon on our way home. After several days of panicking and then understanding that this is not going to accomplish anything, I find myself calm and slowing down. With this stillness has come days of being a flaneur in Paris: walking aimlessly, discovering new neighbourhoods, no real goal or destination in mind.
I found myself strolling in the Cimitiere Montparnasse this week. Two of the most popular graves here are those of Serge Gainsbourg and Jean-Paul Sartre. Gainsbourg was an iconic French singer-songwriter, actor and director. It has been said that he "elevated song to the level of art." I walked up to Gainsbourg's grave just as a French woman was placing a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, metro tickets and a personalized note on his tombstone, which was already covered with numerous tributes fans have lovingly left behind. I could hear two Brits behind me, one saying to the other "did she just put a packet of fags on his tombstone?" in a strong English accent. "Disgusting" was the other's response. Gainsbourg was rarely seen without a smoke in his mouth. The cigarette pack brandishing fan then took off her coat to reveal a black t-shirt with white lyrics from the song "La Javanaise". Even through her slight embarrassment, she was quite pleased to be there. I guess crazy fans exist all around the world. This could be me in 30 years at Jim Cuddy's grave in my 80's wearing a t-shirt saying "And if we're lost, then we are lost together." For now, I look forward to seeing Jim next week at La Maroquinerie. And perhaps bringing some of Serge's music home, with his smooth voice, sexual and dark undertones, would be an excellent Paris souvenir. "J'avoue j'en ai bave pour vous mon amour."
I then searched for Sartre's grave for half an hour, to no avail. I'm sure he would have something existentialist to say about this and that I didn't consciously want to find it.
90 minutes in the cemetery being enough, I made my way over to la Foundation Henri Cartier-Bresson for a photo exhibit by Mitch Epstein titled American Power. I was pleased to see that this was not about the power Americans like to have but rather, all the power they greedily consume. The photos of nuclear reactors, electrical plants, off shore oil platforms, wind turbines, oil pumps, certainly made me reflect on what energy hogs we all are. At least I was relatively green this last year in my 50 sq metre Parisian apartment. And I have my hybrid car anxiously waiting for me at home.
The girls and I managed to squeeze in a quick rainy visit to the Musee Rodin with the always amazing, 90 year old, Mirielle. No visit to Paris is complete without a morning here; Le Penseur, the cheery Gates of Hell, The Burghers of Calais and my favorites, Le Baiser and La Cathedrale. The Cathedral has always signified a powerful lover's union to me, a triumphant interaction. I tend to ignore the symbols of hope and faith or any religious significance, with the two right hands pointing towards the sky.
Thursday I had a special meeting and good-bye lunch with my Memoir Writing Group. Working with them and meeting weekly for the past 5 months has been incredibly motivating and has literally launched my writing. Merci les amies and until next year. D'accord!?
And of course, no lunch in a family owned Parisian bistro is complete without the family pet watching us enjoy our food!
Two weeks left. I will see how much I can squeeze in and don't think that sleeping should be on the agenda. After all, Paris is open day and night, 7 days a week. I figure emptying the apartment and packing can all be done in the last 48 hours. And then I can start panicking!
I found myself strolling in the Cimitiere Montparnasse this week. Two of the most popular graves here are those of Serge Gainsbourg and Jean-Paul Sartre. Gainsbourg was an iconic French singer-songwriter, actor and director. It has been said that he "elevated song to the level of art." I walked up to Gainsbourg's grave just as a French woman was placing a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, metro tickets and a personalized note on his tombstone, which was already covered with numerous tributes fans have lovingly left behind. I could hear two Brits behind me, one saying to the other "did she just put a packet of fags on his tombstone?" in a strong English accent. "Disgusting" was the other's response. Gainsbourg was rarely seen without a smoke in his mouth. The cigarette pack brandishing fan then took off her coat to reveal a black t-shirt with white lyrics from the song "La Javanaise". Even through her slight embarrassment, she was quite pleased to be there. I guess crazy fans exist all around the world. This could be me in 30 years at Jim Cuddy's grave in my 80's wearing a t-shirt saying "And if we're lost, then we are lost together." For now, I look forward to seeing Jim next week at La Maroquinerie. And perhaps bringing some of Serge's music home, with his smooth voice, sexual and dark undertones, would be an excellent Paris souvenir. "J'avoue j'en ai bave pour vous mon amour."
I then searched for Sartre's grave for half an hour, to no avail. I'm sure he would have something existentialist to say about this and that I didn't consciously want to find it.
90 minutes in the cemetery being enough, I made my way over to la Foundation Henri Cartier-Bresson for a photo exhibit by Mitch Epstein titled American Power. I was pleased to see that this was not about the power Americans like to have but rather, all the power they greedily consume. The photos of nuclear reactors, electrical plants, off shore oil platforms, wind turbines, oil pumps, certainly made me reflect on what energy hogs we all are. At least I was relatively green this last year in my 50 sq metre Parisian apartment. And I have my hybrid car anxiously waiting for me at home.
The girls and I managed to squeeze in a quick rainy visit to the Musee Rodin with the always amazing, 90 year old, Mirielle. No visit to Paris is complete without a morning here; Le Penseur, the cheery Gates of Hell, The Burghers of Calais and my favorites, Le Baiser and La Cathedrale. The Cathedral has always signified a powerful lover's union to me, a triumphant interaction. I tend to ignore the symbols of hope and faith or any religious significance, with the two right hands pointing towards the sky.
Thursday I had a special meeting and good-bye lunch with my Memoir Writing Group. Working with them and meeting weekly for the past 5 months has been incredibly motivating and has literally launched my writing. Merci les amies and until next year. D'accord!?
And of course, no lunch in a family owned Parisian bistro is complete without the family pet watching us enjoy our food!
Two weeks left. I will see how much I can squeeze in and don't think that sleeping should be on the agenda. After all, Paris is open day and night, 7 days a week. I figure emptying the apartment and packing can all be done in the last 48 hours. And then I can start panicking!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Family Adventuring - Canal Saint Martin
With less than a month left in Paris I seem to have slipped back into tourist mode. I know my days here are limited and as a result I am squeezing every minute out of them that I can. If I could I would stay up 24/7 to do as much as I can before our dreaded departure date.
Today the girls and I went to the Canal Saint Martin in northeastern Paris. This Canal feeds into the Seine in the south and the Bassin de la Villette and the Canal de l'Ourq in the north. We hopped on a boat at La Bastille and took a 2 1/2 hour trip up the canal. Napoléon ordered the construction of the Canal Saint-Martin in 1802. It was originally built to link the Canal de l'Ourq to supply fresh water to the city. In the 19th century, the area was mostly occupied by working-class laborers. Only recently has it started to attract well-to-do professionals eager to snag apartments with views of the canal.
The boat started by going into the 1km long vaulted tunnel under the Place de la Bastille. This was followed by 4 double locks and 2 swing bridges along the canal. Numerous classic iron footbridges traverse the canal, usually with people on them, looking down at us, while we were looking up at them. The girls enjoyed going through locks in a boat for the first time, watching the water swish in and the boat quickly moving upward. I enjoyed the quaint neighbourhoods we passed through, the foot bridges and the fabulous people watching. I need to invest in a large zoom, or "borrow" George's Nikon & lenses, to zoom in on some of interesting faces and characters lining the canal, again, us looking at them, while they were checking us out.
Next time I make it to this part of Paris I will have to nurse a drink on one of the many local terraces and enjoy a meal at the current hot spot, Chez Prune. Its where all the trendy young Parisians go, so I will, of course, fit right in!
Tomorrow more adventuring for me in eastern Paris at the Bois de Vincennes as I explore the little known Jardin Tropical, or less nicely put, what remains of the old human zoo from the 1907 colonial expo. I will finish the week days out with a visit Friday to le Grand Palais to discover an artist new to me, Odilon Redon. It certainly looks like the next 3 weeks will be non stop for me, clutching to every last minute I can in my adopted hometown.
Today the girls and I went to the Canal Saint Martin in northeastern Paris. This Canal feeds into the Seine in the south and the Bassin de la Villette and the Canal de l'Ourq in the north. We hopped on a boat at La Bastille and took a 2 1/2 hour trip up the canal. Napoléon ordered the construction of the Canal Saint-Martin in 1802. It was originally built to link the Canal de l'Ourq to supply fresh water to the city. In the 19th century, the area was mostly occupied by working-class laborers. Only recently has it started to attract well-to-do professionals eager to snag apartments with views of the canal.
The boat started by going into the 1km long vaulted tunnel under the Place de la Bastille. This was followed by 4 double locks and 2 swing bridges along the canal. Numerous classic iron footbridges traverse the canal, usually with people on them, looking down at us, while we were looking up at them. The girls enjoyed going through locks in a boat for the first time, watching the water swish in and the boat quickly moving upward. I enjoyed the quaint neighbourhoods we passed through, the foot bridges and the fabulous people watching. I need to invest in a large zoom, or "borrow" George's Nikon & lenses, to zoom in on some of interesting faces and characters lining the canal, again, us looking at them, while they were checking us out.
Next time I make it to this part of Paris I will have to nurse a drink on one of the many local terraces and enjoy a meal at the current hot spot, Chez Prune. Its where all the trendy young Parisians go, so I will, of course, fit right in!
Tomorrow more adventuring for me in eastern Paris at the Bois de Vincennes as I explore the little known Jardin Tropical, or less nicely put, what remains of the old human zoo from the 1907 colonial expo. I will finish the week days out with a visit Friday to le Grand Palais to discover an artist new to me, Odilon Redon. It certainly looks like the next 3 weeks will be non stop for me, clutching to every last minute I can in my adopted hometown.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Where did May go!?
My forty something birthday this past weekend was certainly entertaining and unique. What a delight to be celebrated by my adopted Parisian family, Mirielle and Les Cabritas. Excellent wine, chilled champagne, delicious food, many laughs, a beautiful warm evening and most importantly, good company made my Paris birthday memorable. Merci les amis et ma famille.
Saturday was spent wandering around Roland Garros, trying to sneak a peak at some of my old favorite tennis players with tickets for the Legends Tournament –basically all the “older” players. Came upon a fun game with Andre Agassi, Jim Courier and others. Even in an amusing laissez faire exhibition match, I would not want to be anywhere near the tennis court with either of these two. Came across Nadal practicing for the finals, his serves whizzing by, blurry tennis balls flying all over the court. Nice arms on that boy! We also watched the ladies Legends doubles semi-finals with Lindsay Davenport, Martina Hingis vs Sandrine Testud and Andrea Temesvari. Seeing these amazing women hit the ball certainly makes me want to get back on the court and see if I still even know how to hold a racket. Tennis is now officially on the Calgary 2011 summer activities list. I kept scanning the crowds for my 1980’s tennis hero Borg in his Fila track suit and sweaty headband but no Bjorn sightings for me at the French Open. Not too happy to hear that Nadal has now matched Borg’s record of six French Open titles.
Fabulous 9 day visit from Jackie, le theatre, handball games, writing groups, graffiti, Musee d’Orsay, Andre Agassi, a trip to Gex, family visits, Montmartre, Loveday, lunch & visits with long lost German relatives, Belleville, sun filled days, bike rides, perfectly chilled panaches, Napoleon’s tomb, the streets of Paris, climbing La Tour Eiffel for the 3rd time this year, being "mooned" by French teenagers, Les Invalides, walks along Blvd de Montmorency, Corinne & Dave, many hours writing, weekends at the family country house, and far too much wine have all kept me from my weekly blog updates –at least these are my credible excuses. With one month left is Paris I am being called by the deliciously warm summer days & evenings and the gorgeous city streets. Am feeling “bien dans ma peau” in my home away from home. Plan to take advantage of it while I can.
Saturday was spent wandering around Roland Garros, trying to sneak a peak at some of my old favorite tennis players with tickets for the Legends Tournament –basically all the “older” players. Came upon a fun game with Andre Agassi, Jim Courier and others. Even in an amusing laissez faire exhibition match, I would not want to be anywhere near the tennis court with either of these two. Came across Nadal practicing for the finals, his serves whizzing by, blurry tennis balls flying all over the court. Nice arms on that boy! We also watched the ladies Legends doubles semi-finals with Lindsay Davenport, Martina Hingis vs Sandrine Testud and Andrea Temesvari. Seeing these amazing women hit the ball certainly makes me want to get back on the court and see if I still even know how to hold a racket. Tennis is now officially on the Calgary 2011 summer activities list. I kept scanning the crowds for my 1980’s tennis hero Borg in his Fila track suit and sweaty headband but no Bjorn sightings for me at the French Open. Not too happy to hear that Nadal has now matched Borg’s record of six French Open titles.
Fabulous 9 day visit from Jackie, le theatre, handball games, writing groups, graffiti, Musee d’Orsay, Andre Agassi, a trip to Gex, family visits, Montmartre, Loveday, lunch & visits with long lost German relatives, Belleville, sun filled days, bike rides, perfectly chilled panaches, Napoleon’s tomb, the streets of Paris, climbing La Tour Eiffel for the 3rd time this year, being "mooned" by French teenagers, Les Invalides, walks along Blvd de Montmorency, Corinne & Dave, many hours writing, weekends at the family country house, and far too much wine have all kept me from my weekly blog updates –at least these are my credible excuses. With one month left is Paris I am being called by the deliciously warm summer days & evenings and the gorgeous city streets. Am feeling “bien dans ma peau” in my home away from home. Plan to take advantage of it while I can.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Saturday Fun at the Jardin de Luxembourg
Who would have thought that pushing a wooden sailboat around a pool with a long stick could be so much fun? I certainly did not, but my girls loved it. Yes, we finally made our way to the Jardin de Luxembourg on Saturday. It was a “not a cloud in the sky” kind of day, hot, muggy and beautiful. I love spring in Paris!
As Nathalie pushed around her white sailboat with an elephant on the pink sail, Gabrielle was rushing after her black and red pirate sailboat. I vividly remember doing this with them 5 years ago when they were 3 and 6 years old. Gabrielle was barely big enough to reach the boat and her big sister did most of the pushing, but both girls ran around the pool, back and forth depending on the direction of the boat and the wind. I was right behind them, easily keeping up with their little legs. This time around I enjoyed sitting on the edge of the pool, watching them laugh and patiently wait for their boats to come back to the sides and within reach of their sticks. I sat next to a young Korean girl getting mad with her French male companion, telling him that he did not know how to debate and discuss properly. Needless the say, it was amusing to hear both of their opinions. I wanted to tell her that she is in the wrong part of the world to be arguing about debating properly, this is a discussion you will never win here. From my experience, the French have made debating an art form. Always interesting to see different cultures trying to get along.
An hour was spent at the Children’s playground, which with all the kids running around, full of energy, was more like a zoo. Kids laughing, sliding, climbing, tumbling and yes, falling and crying. Luckily my two managed all of this without the falling and crying.
They also spent 5 thrilling minutes on the old fashioned boat like swings, together, each of them on their own side. All I heard for the 5 minutes was constant laughing, giggling and joyfully shouting at each other. They are already asking to go back, with a friend each this time, for the swings alone.
The Jardin de Luxembourg is also perfect for people watching, and on a Saturday, there are many people to watch. Some basking in the sun, eyes closed, cold beer nearby. Others hiding in the shade, newspaper and coffee in hand. All ages, shapes, sizes, and ethnicity are present, making the viewing fascinating and ever changing.
The day came to a perfect Parisian end with an ice cream cone at famous Dalloyau. It looked so good that I even had to have one, saveur café bien sur.
As Nathalie pushed around her white sailboat with an elephant on the pink sail, Gabrielle was rushing after her black and red pirate sailboat. I vividly remember doing this with them 5 years ago when they were 3 and 6 years old. Gabrielle was barely big enough to reach the boat and her big sister did most of the pushing, but both girls ran around the pool, back and forth depending on the direction of the boat and the wind. I was right behind them, easily keeping up with their little legs. This time around I enjoyed sitting on the edge of the pool, watching them laugh and patiently wait for their boats to come back to the sides and within reach of their sticks. I sat next to a young Korean girl getting mad with her French male companion, telling him that he did not know how to debate and discuss properly. Needless the say, it was amusing to hear both of their opinions. I wanted to tell her that she is in the wrong part of the world to be arguing about debating properly, this is a discussion you will never win here. From my experience, the French have made debating an art form. Always interesting to see different cultures trying to get along.
An hour was spent at the Children’s playground, which with all the kids running around, full of energy, was more like a zoo. Kids laughing, sliding, climbing, tumbling and yes, falling and crying. Luckily my two managed all of this without the falling and crying.
They also spent 5 thrilling minutes on the old fashioned boat like swings, together, each of them on their own side. All I heard for the 5 minutes was constant laughing, giggling and joyfully shouting at each other. They are already asking to go back, with a friend each this time, for the swings alone.
The Jardin de Luxembourg is also perfect for people watching, and on a Saturday, there are many people to watch. Some basking in the sun, eyes closed, cold beer nearby. Others hiding in the shade, newspaper and coffee in hand. All ages, shapes, sizes, and ethnicity are present, making the viewing fascinating and ever changing.
The day came to a perfect Parisian end with an ice cream cone at famous Dalloyau. It looked so good that I even had to have one, saveur café bien sur.
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