Views to die for.
A cake baked just for me. Divinity.
And Emma in picture form - makes me giggle. She is so lovely.
March 3, 2011
Chez Emma.
Views to die for.
A cake baked just for me. Divinity.
And Emma in picture form - makes me giggle. She is so lovely.
February 5, 2011
Un café with Emma.
Un café with Emma - one of my dearest friends in Paris. Emma and I have had many adventures together, including teaching English to sometimes unreceptive French people, private Versailles tours, dealing with 'agressive bonjour-ing', sardines, Paris pools in the summer, the Brumisateur and Hamams. It is Emma's birthday today and I am thrilled that I am in Paris to celebrate her.
July 2, 2010
48° 48′ 18″ Nord | 2° 7′ 10″ Est
When we come to Paris now that we don't live here, we often stay in one of Xavier's cousin's apartment. One night we were there, up late talking and Adrien (said cousin) suggested I come visit him at work the next day. Normally, the invitation would have very little appeal - office buildings entice only so much. However, Adrien's office has a special sort of charm - he works at Versailles. He fundraises for the amelioration of the chateau. So I gathered one of my favorite people in Paris, lovely Emma, and we headed to the famous chateau and were inspired by the gardens, the palace and our private tour given by Adrien, who escorted us to interior private rooms. Felicitous us.
And when we ate lunch at a little brasserie in Versailles, we found him. Magnificent.
December 5, 2009
Sardines.
Lunch today included sardines, sliced bottarga (salted cured fish eggs) and lovely, finely curled carrot shucks. I was eating at Emma and Davide's house. (Emma is our lovely lady who coined "agressive bonjour-ing" and Davide is my favorite Italian in Paris). So, despite my being in France for almost three years, I still am not adept at attacking, deboning and eating a fish in its entirety. Sardines in this form are, in fact, fit for a king. The only problem is that I feel continual fright that I'm swallowing bones that will cut me up inside. (So far, so good). Otherwise, I do like this sort of lunch and fear that once I am back in New York, lunches like these will be scarce.
More dismally, Emma and Davide will be scarce. I love these two so. Here is one reason why: Davide's explanations of things. (In this instance, he is explaining why one must have his shower at night and not in the morning. This conversation started with the idea that a draft from a window after a shower was particularly harmful to a person - one's skin in this state is particularly susceptible. Mostly I enjoy his matter-of-fact manner of explaining these ideas).
December 4, 2009
Je dis bonjour.
Bonjour. Yes, that simple word is the subject of this post. You may think the translation of bonjour is hello. How wrong you are. You see, bonjour is so much more than that. Bonjour is not just a simple greeting.
Bonjour is your ticket into any shop (it is compulsory at the threshold), it is the the way to properly enter a waiting room full of people at the doctor's office (if you fail to say bonjour there is a very palpable feeling of tension), it is the only way to ask for directions, and it is the absolute first thing to say to neighbors when you see them (you cannot skip the bonjour and go directly to ça va, for instance): it is loaded with value, this word.
When one forgets this omphalic word, two things generally occur:
1. The person at hand takes the time to teach you that you must always say bonjour before any other utterance.
2. The person continues to say bonjour (up to five repetitions may be necessary) until you repeat it back (at which point a great deal of straining and confusion for both people ends: confusion that you don't know very basic rules of behavior (her), confusion that a person would go on repeating themselves in such a silly way (you), straining to get you to say the word (her), straining to understand what the problem seems to be (you)).
Everyone knows this. I mean, it is very simple. Very. That is why it is so perplexing that after three years I still manage to forget it. When I walk into a shop and ask very nicely for, say, a croissant and am met by a stern bonjour rather than bien sûr, how can I still be confused?
What I mean is that it is requisite. More than requisite, it is the first basic rule of France. When children are taught how to be polite, they are always instructed to say bonjour in a very deliberate way. It is as important as merci or s'il vous plaît. Parents in France teach bonjour exactly as parents where I come from teach please (as is evidenced by this worksheet from a third grade French classroom).
(TO BE POLITE: When I am polite I say bonjour when it is day and bonsoir when it is night. I say s'il vous plaît to get what I would like. When I am polite with my mouth I smile and say merci).
I was having lunch with my friend Emma (British) today who seems to have the same forgetting spells as I do. She had forgotten her bonjour earlier in the day. In her case, the result was response #1. She had been instructed like a 6-year old (her words) for getting straight to the point at the boulangerie. "It is just a bit much, this aggressive bonjour-ing, isn't it," she proclaimed and I smiled and wrote the phrase down. Aggressive bonjour-ing. Very funny and very befitting.
Bonjour is your ticket into any shop (it is compulsory at the threshold), it is the the way to properly enter a waiting room full of people at the doctor's office (if you fail to say bonjour there is a very palpable feeling of tension), it is the only way to ask for directions, and it is the absolute first thing to say to neighbors when you see them (you cannot skip the bonjour and go directly to ça va, for instance): it is loaded with value, this word.
When one forgets this omphalic word, two things generally occur:
1. The person at hand takes the time to teach you that you must always say bonjour before any other utterance.
2. The person continues to say bonjour (up to five repetitions may be necessary) until you repeat it back (at which point a great deal of straining and confusion for both people ends: confusion that you don't know very basic rules of behavior (her), confusion that a person would go on repeating themselves in such a silly way (you), straining to get you to say the word (her), straining to understand what the problem seems to be (you)).
Everyone knows this. I mean, it is very simple. Very. That is why it is so perplexing that after three years I still manage to forget it. When I walk into a shop and ask very nicely for, say, a croissant and am met by a stern bonjour rather than bien sûr, how can I still be confused?
What I mean is that it is requisite. More than requisite, it is the first basic rule of France. When children are taught how to be polite, they are always instructed to say bonjour in a very deliberate way. It is as important as merci or s'il vous plaît. Parents in France teach bonjour exactly as parents where I come from teach please (as is evidenced by this worksheet from a third grade French classroom).
(TO BE POLITE: When I am polite I say bonjour when it is day and bonsoir when it is night. I say s'il vous plaît to get what I would like. When I am polite with my mouth I smile and say merci).
I was having lunch with my friend Emma (British) today who seems to have the same forgetting spells as I do. She had forgotten her bonjour earlier in the day. In her case, the result was response #1. She had been instructed like a 6-year old (her words) for getting straight to the point at the boulangerie. "It is just a bit much, this aggressive bonjour-ing, isn't it," she proclaimed and I smiled and wrote the phrase down. Aggressive bonjour-ing. Very funny and very befitting.
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