I know it's been a while but that's what happens when you're in fabulous Paris and in the quirky 1920s artist town of Le Vesinet where the mistress of the house doesn't like the idea of "waves" in her house (I don't have internet where I live . . .or rather lived because tonight I'm at the most luxurious Etap Hotel in a small town near Omaha Beach. We've started our week tour of the western countryside of France and next week is Nice. Yes, my birthday will be in Nice. Chew on that for a second. I myself am still trying to digest it). Anyway, I won't talk about Normandie (no, that's not a typo . . .that's how the French spell it) just yet. But I will give you a few pictures highlighting my more recent Paris adventures (sniff . . .au revoir ma belle ville pour maintinent). I'm in love, I'm in love and I don't care who knows it!

I can only share a bit, because I'm pretty sure I've already worn out my internet welcome at my director's apartment. I just had to share a bit of what I lalove about my most beloved ville (but there's more . . .I could go on for days about couples and art and the metro and food ah beautiful and glorious)This is in the Quartier Juif (Jewish neighborhood) he was calling down in Yiddish to a Jewish bakery kiddy corner to his apartment. I hope they were talking about Shabbas bread.
It's an ostrich (Je pense). . . with pearls on its legs (Je sais). I mean come on! How fantastic is that?
Coolest bookstore near Sainte Sulpice. Good book people inhabit this place, each speaking at least 2.5 languages.
Magnificent boulangerie, creates baguettes in the historical fashion. Sans yeast but avec stone ground flour.
Another thing I love in Paris are the windows. I'm endlessly fascinated by every kind of window. Stained glass, shuttered, broken, residential, palatial, storefront (I'm shameless, and I take pictures of window displays. Isn't that such a faux pas? I don't even care. Ok I do a bit, enough to try and be a bit discrete, but what can you do? I can't help myself).

I especially am in love with daddies and their babies. Look at this precious interaction between papa et enfant, just got to the boulang?
French babies can even make Hellion Pigeons seem almost charming (which is saying something, because pigeons are Satan's birds that's why they try and annoy and gross you out right before you go into churches, they're trying to keep you away)
Just imagine this little girl humming a little nonsense song as she skipped down the street with her glace.
Beautiful people live in Paris . I don't know if you know that, but c'est vrai. And no people are more beautiful or engaging than French babies. I've started taking pictures of the gen I can't get enough of when I'm out and about the ville during the day. Mostly they're from the back, but I take what I can get. I just want to capture and keep the essence of chaque personne. The way they dress and walk and how intriguing they are and the fact that French was their first language. Everytime I hear a baby voice in French I think, geez this kid speaks better French than I do and that's his language. It's the same when I talk to the cat our host family is watching, he only knows French people-making-fools-of-themselves-for-animals speak. So I try to follow suite.

I had a Maria moment when I walked into this grand ball room of the Opera Garnier (the opera house of the Acadamie Musique that inspired the Phantom of the Opera) and I had the urge to waltz about but I was also afraid Captain Vontrappe might come and scold me for going where I'm not supposed to be.


'

The overture before the overture. Even if it doesn't float your boat architecturally you'll be in awe. I was giddy just walking in, the anticipation and theatrical mood set by the building before you even enter the theatre proper. And the ballet we saw was tres magnifique. Everyone in Paris is beautiful and I'll be darned if the ballerines were not even more so. And for 10 euro I could lean over the side balcony and feel all 19th century starving student in love with art and Paris and fashion but in an intellectual way. Right? Classy but suffering for art? But kinda wishing that you were part of the rich but resenting them. I feel like that's a proper 19th century feeling.

Art is everywhere and the Quartier Latin is no exception, this is just a cafe front on a tiny street. Makes me want to mange there! The Quartier Latin is the section where all the college kids used to argue with each other in Latin during the Moyen Age. Now it's artsy and bookish and absolutely perfect. At the end of my jour in teh Quartier Latin I wrote profound thoughts in my leather bound and ate quiche lorraine and chocolate cake from heaven by the Seine. A true intelectuelle, n'est pas?

Einstein and Louie in the Quatier Latin, it's obviously where all the cool kids hang out. I hung out there and thought all sorts of Latin-ish, philosophical and scholarly there. Mostly I just went into the petit galleries and dreamt of the day I could work in one while wearing my plaid glasses. I could live in a flat near the Quartier and then spend my days supporting local artists. Doesn't that sound divin? And it would be a baby version of my dream of being a curator and it'd be better because it's edgier (even though I'm far from edgy) and more intimate (which I dig)
It's the sign of the oldest cafe in Paris. Racine wrote and argued intellectually there over tea . . .actually probably wine and cheap beer.
It's the most darling sign, let's just be honest. A hot air balloon? Probably circa 1800 something or other. I couldn't resist it. Reason 556 to love Paris: fabulous signs (signs are art too)

My most beloved Chartres. Don't you adore the blue and let's just talk about the dips and ridges in the stone. So much character, so much faith and so much beauty. I couldn't get enough of the imperfections in the stone, especially near the glass. It felt so right that the thing that man created to glorify and imitate God was still imperfect. It made me love them and Chartres even better for trying.

I fell in love with this man's boots, oh ok him as well on the tippy top of

the dome of Sacre Coeur, where I thought I might puke and die from peur.

Isn't the city jolie, even and maybe even especially with the haze/mist (we'll pretend it isn't smog). I was proud of myself for being brave enough to prend cettes images. It was just a surprise, I thought I was going down to the crypt, but I ended up ascending 300 winding stairs to the dome. Not a grave up there, but lots of professions of love and other such profundities scratched into the hundreds year old dirt on the interior of the dome.

I have un moment before we start our group meeting to discuss Versailles. Yes, at long last my pilgrimage to the Petit Trianon will be complete and I might die from I don't even know what from . . .star struckness? Yes, the star has been dead for hundreds of years but what can I say? Je l'aime! But in the seconds before we start I'll show you a few petites choses from this week. I'm falling, yes I am falling but Paris keeps calling me back again.

Chartres today. Oh our holy mother of pearl! It is la vraiment charment ville in all of the world. The cathedral is one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen in the whole of my life. They're cleaning it right now and the difference between the clean and the dirty is so intriguing (I'll put pictures up on Sunday). I fell in love. I sat in the chapel de Saint Sacrement and contimplated life and love and God and it was the most perfect Moyen Age moment. Besides, our Chartres expert was one of the most adorable and knowledgeable Brit transplants I could ever hope to meet. He knew so much. And I fell half in love with him as soon as I found out that he moved from London to Chartres because he loved the cathedral and want to study it and just be near. "Don't say you've seen Chartres. I've been here for 30 years and I'm still seeing it." I mean really? Don't you want to bottle that kind of curiosity and passion? I sure do and I'm first in line to buy as soon as someone invents it (including if I invent it). Then I died in a salon de the when I bought the most beautiful tart aux chocolate.
And I found out how much I despise huge groups of Americans and standing around in the metro. As much as I am fascinated by people in the metro, I hate looking like an American dumb dumb pants just standing about. Ah, but now I must away to a petit boulangerie to purchase my daily baguette!

Mais oui, le tour Eiffel! I saw it and Paris must be my city because at once I was in awe that I was actually seeing the iconic symbol of France and it felt like the most perfect and natural thing in the whole entire world. See:

Bonjour from Paris! It's day quatre in the voyage magnifique. I already feel like Paris and I are a pretty wonderful pair. I love the architecture and the history and the metro (ok, I adore the metro, partially because I get to practice my French manners . . .namely, my smile code mastery. I've gotten incredibly good at not smiling at strangers and making eye contact without the impulse to smile.) I lalalove watching les parisiens. They all look so good all the time. I feel like I've walked into art. It's not perfect but it's endlessly interesting and beautiful. Paris and I are going to be the best of friends, I've already felt anno

yance with loud English-speaking Americans, so I think I'm on the right track.

My first real up close Paris encounter was with the most fabulous block of graffiti I could ever have hoped to see in Europe.

On my second full day here, I went and saw Notre Dame, Le Conciergerie and Sainte Chapelle (as part of one of the guided walks for my class. they're

great because they give you a general part of the city to explore and then you go at it). I cried at least 5

times that day. First because I was so happy I was able to ignore all the people asking me if I speak En

glish. And then when I walked into Notre Dame and touched on

e of the huge pillars. If you go, you must do this. The stone speaks to you and it's like you feel the sweat, tears, pain as well as the faith and devotion that's gone into the building. Just look:

Anyway, perhaps it's a bit overdone or touristy but I don't care and I can't help it. If this doesn't give you a nice first taste of the city, I don't know what will. I'll travel log a bit more plus tard, parce que I'm off to spend the afternoon in the Louvre!