Patrician, Majestic, Chic, Enchanting…………
And, so it was told to me by my son, Ryan. “Mom, no one goes to Paris in July!” – in that insistent tone he loves to use with me. “Everyone is in San Tropez”, I believe was the direct quote – the “informed – one”, my up-to-the-moment student of chic-world-wide travel norms, patterns and emerging trends, laid that one on me when I said I was going. Too bad Ryan, currently in a typical early 20-something conformist time of life, doesn’t really get me, aka, Mom – currently in my non-conformist time of life, doesn’t subscribe to those tenets – and anyway, I’ll go just about anywhere in Europe at anytime – you don’t have to suggest it twice! Anyway, I knew he was totally jealous, for he had spent one of his several (two weeks) trips to Paris in July himself – right after high school graduation – and I don’t remember him complaining about that opportunity, not one little bit!
For me, a free ticket didn’t hurt either! And this time, after a couple of days alone, I had the joyous bonus of having a long-delayed rendezvous on my favorite continent, alone with my daughter – well that just makes it all especially wonderful! “Isn’t serendipity and the stars aligning themselves for you just the best?”, I heard murmuring along in my head……..
I’d never been to Paris in the Summer before and so I took in Ryan’s comment with the appropriate degree of suspicion, his envy, duly tuned in via my psuedo-contrarian’s antenna, while I, at the same time, totally accepted my friend, Roseann’s completely-schooled, dependable and therefore accurate portrayal of Paris in July – it’s going to be hot and no AC!. That duly noted, however, even this warning wouldn’t deter me, not a bit.
Being that city-nomad-wishful-dweller-wanderer that I am, and enjoying it especially-so when the regulars are elsewhere doing what the regulars do – escaping to the Hamptons or San Tropez, in this case, I was encouraged and not a bit deterred. I’m perfectly fine with that – more of the Big Apple and, in this case, Paris, for me to have to myself, to savor and relish, now that I am so enjoying being in total-sponge mode.
Enrichment and immersion – these are my two operative words these days – working very hard to break away from my patterns of old – the repetition of those patterns of life that no longer feed my heart and soul and striving for new experiences – every day, if possible. I’m all into creating new synapses in my brain, new pictures, new “material” of every substantive and nurturing kind. For me, it’s all about drinking in everything that I can, but especially, on the grand side, the architecture, art treasures and urban majesty all around me, and on the small-scale side, all I can find of those little unique shops featuring flowers, chocolates, pastries and breads, specialty food items and miscellaneous offerings that portray the sensibilities, whims and dedications of Parisian merchants and image-makers, both intended and unintended alike. In addition to the food venues that I so covet, it is so fun to stroll along in the evenings and catch people re-dressing the windows of the fashion houses – making new magic for the next day’s open…….. (but I have gone ahead of my story, Denys would have hated that)
Christin found she had been accepted into a world-wide symposium on international education funding in Budapest for July 11. My mind immediately went into opportunity-mode. I tinkered, very seriously with the idea of “tagging along”. But, I thought best of it – it was her first experience abroad alone, on a professional trip, and she didn’t need her Mommy tagging along – even though a week at the 4 Seasons is “cheap” – that’s not a typo. (I’ll go another time.) Based on her experience and delight with the city of Budapest, maybe I made an error – but that is another story, and now, another adventure for later…….
And so, it was, totally serendipitously, and happily, with free ticket in hand that I boarded and touched down in that wonderful city of enchantment, Paris, last Thursday morning. I had a precious 2 1/2 days to wander all alone – to re-acquaint, acquaint and discover via my favorite mode of transportation – À pied – and ahhhh!, – à Paris en Juillet – total joy! And, surely as I stood there, I had an agenda and no agenda at the very same time. Perhaps my only real idea was to gather more memories – I was anxious and exhilarated to compare my experiences with those of my last visit which was late March 2013 when the day/night/light/plant life was completely different. Paris was still in cold-Winter-mode then and each and every venture out the door to dinner was enfolded in the sparkling darkness that can only be Paris at nighttime, while this time, it was light early and until nearly 10 pm – two totally different experiences.
I’d done a bit of homework for this first full-week-ever trip to Paris for me as I thought I should. I had my lists of restaurants, sites, my favorite guide book and downloads from my favorite experts on Paris in hand. But, once I got there, checked into my hotel and stepped out the door shortly after my late breakfast, I went into my favorite mode – to wander at my whim. Oh yes, I had a few ideas parked firmly in my mind, but I decided to be in the mode in which this trip had started – total serendipitousness (that word again) – as in, what would the city choose to graciously offer up to me if I just allowed it to? And so, with this mindset firmly in place, I stepped out…..
I’m not one of those people who likes to visit a city and tick off the attractions and quickly move onto the next. I am one of those people who likes to wait to have the aura of the city rise up from the cobblestones, through my toes, into my feet, legs and torso and fully envelop me, mind and body – not unlike those visualization exercises in yoga, where you work to open up your energy flow, but in this case it is all my sensory receptors. This is how I like to travel. No quick visits for me if I can help it. This, I said to myself, is the very definition of true luxury, a gift like no other, – 7 full days in Paris to do whatever I wanted to do.
Paris is such a “fill you up” city. And, I found it embraces you into its daily routine pretty readily. I particularly love the morning – watching everyone walk to work in central Paris – as people-watching is one of my favorite things to do. I adore that everyone is nicely dressed and buzzing along. This time, it was especially fun to sit for awhile and have breakfast, outside, in one of the cafes – except of course that you have to sit next to the ubiquitous population of chain-smokers – a sensibility which is totally confounding to an American in this day and age. It really does take a bit to get used to and I found myself feeling you just must not get exasperated or repelled – you must just accept – it just is. This irony – that so many people desire to begin their day with a dark and bitter coffee, or two or three (fine) accompanied by a succession of cigarettes is, well, disturbing at best, when you think about all the acute palate pleasures that the French and particularly Parisians dedicate their lives to making and perfecting – chocolates, pastries, breads, butter and on and on. You get the point.
Well, I found myself completely at ease and motivated to get going right away – or straight away as they say on the continent. And so, as I had tried to pack several options of comfortable walking shoes, I was off. Interestingly, my semi-fatigued state and my sense of random-nomadic interest led me off of any set scheduled to-do orientation and wander I did. Off to Place Vendome first and a walk around the block and in and about the area of Madeleine, Place Vendome and Place de la Concorde.
Place Vendome continues to be curiously shrouded and absent of, basically, anything other than foot traffic and a few tony jewelry stores. The Ritz is still under those tight-fisted wraps and considering that it looked exactly the same in 3/13 from the outside as it does now, I got to wondering – what fantastic unveiling could they so tightly be hiding under there? The idea of an underperforming asset quickly passed through my mind about the square in total, but still, its open majesty is so totally pleasing and enveloping, nonetheless.
All of the Rue St. Honore area is such a lovely place to stay – it is busy and bustling but in an oh-so civilized, and slightly patrician sort of way – totally unlike the experience of walking down the Champs Elysees on Sunday afternoon though the big shopping district – like the Times Square of Paris, I’m afraid! So, off down Rue de Faubourg St. Honore and down to re-visit Le Bristol and my charming friend Fa-roun. This stroll never fails to delight, as along the way you get to look straight into the eyes of the guards at the Palace and wonder for a mischievous instant what sort of trouble President Hollande might be getting himself into today……… Judging by the news of the days I was there, I highly doubt he was on any level of holiday mode…….
on my corner of Rue St. Honoré
why are they peaking out?
le jardin – renovations which were underway last time – all finished and lovely, serving outside on this glorious day
treats from the pastry kitchen at Le Bristol
I totally love Le Bristol and our trip in March 2013 will forever remain in my heart of hearts. I couldn’t wait to pay them a visit – to refresh my senses of the total aura of loveliness that they offer their guests. Among their total successes and achievement of the state of complete graciousness, what I especially love about Le Bristol is that when I walked in and went to the desk to ask to see Fa-roun, they accepted my interest in his whereabouts and my expectation to see him as if it were a completely normal thing to do – to go to Paris and pay a visit to a favorite feline resident in one of the most beautiful hotels in the world. And so, as I asked for him they immediately invited me around he corner to say hello to him – he was sleeping happily and I was informed that he did not appreciate these hot days in Paris and so usually did not have a very busy day in this type of weather, I’m afraid. So, I said hi, expressed my sentiments to him and respectfully went on my way. I will forever adore Le Bristol for their acceptance of people such as me. (incidentally, you will note that Fa-roun has a wide-ranging list of fans on social media who adore and inquire after him just as much I do – so lest you think I am the only cuckoo-bird, I am not). To say unequivocally that he is the luckiest chat in the world is pretty certain, I’d say.
trying to relax on a warm day
So, walk and walk I did, paying a visit here and there, near and far and traversing the Seine on foot – which is one of the most delightful things to do, ever! It brings an elation and presents so many views of the city, depending on which bridge you are on. Each and every unique frame offers the majesty that is central Paris. How can one ever tire of doing this, I wonder to myself? That Baron Hausmann was certainly a great genius – can anyone truly appreciate his contributions?
One of my favorite things about visiting Paris is to find myself talking to myself in French. Now, mind you, my French is very stale and was at its very best back in the day, very limited. But, I found that I could recall quite a few useful nouns and verbs and tried in my head as I walked along to string together some phrases which rang of where I was, what I was doing and how I was feeling. It just makes you want to go back and study the language and really be fluent. Just another item on the list.
still dressed up for Bastille Day at Laduree
After strolling through Place Vendome and around Madeleine a bit, I went to reassure myself that Laduree and Maille were indeed still in the very same spots – just checking and made a mental note to visit the mustard shoppe and perhaps bring home several jars of their unique offerings. As I thought about this, I found myself doubting that I could indeed bring home all the jars I really wanted to bring – of confitures of this flavor and that, from this specialty food shop and that – of all the charming little food venues that make Paris, and Europe so endearing to me – no supermarkets pour moi, merci beaucoup!
Please note, by the way, that my expressions in French to myself and herein – so totally banal and ill-formed as they are, are well known and accepted by me to be silly and trite – but in my state are still of amusement to me – and so, I continue to have them float up into my consciousness freely, since they are so totally part of the experience I am trying to emerse in – so indulge me if you can possibly stand it, in the spirit in which all things flow onto the pages here……..
It wasn’t long before I decided to stroll over to say hello to the Eiffel Tower, having all those fun selfies I took last year with Ryan in a wool coat and bundled! I was nostalgic for traveling with him – he’s always so fun to go along with and listen to and share sentiments. But, this time, it was for me, alone to shake hands with one of the most majestic sites in my repertoire, and so I did. I set out, (and it was hot yep, Roseann, you are right, I said to myself over and over), to have the tower appear for me, on its own, out of the landscape rather than to set out directly along the river. I walked through the neighborhoods and found and lost, and found again, the tower behind the buildings here and there until voila, it appeared, head to toe, surprisingly right in front of my face – oh, hello! So fun!
I can’t explain to you why this little “experiment” was so much fun to do, it just was, and I found myself tickled that the tour along the way presented itself in so many amusing, inviting and educating ways. The beautiful sky didn’t hurt either.
I found myself to be ready for lunch, hot and parched and so I traversed back down the rue de l’Universite and returned to the little cafe I’d passed and had earlier made a mental note to myself to have lunch.
Ah, it felt so good to sit down in this tiny, very warm but charming space and have a piece of Quiche avec salade and a whole litre of Pellegrino, which I desperately needed to replenish myself in the 93F temperatures. My feet swelled, dastardly blisters formed, but I, after having such sustenance, got right back onto the pavement and strode along.
Ah, alas, now…… the travails of jet lag – for me always worse on the second day home……… and, so, just as I needed a refresh a dejeuner last Friday, I need one now – this being all I can physically get down today – my brain being devoid of substantive matter and lucid memory any longer this morning…….
And so, à bientôt……….. I think I’ll go back to bed now…….. but happily. More on all of this later. Perhaps when I awake again, I will be back in Paris?