Thursday. Est-ce que je pourrais recuperer mon pantalon? May I pick up my pants? I have to go to the drycleaner today to pick up my black pants. Learning one French phrase at a time is better than none.

I got out a bit earlier today. I’m so tired of getting my hands cold maneuvering my camera and phone that I decided to buy a handbag. It’s a bit large: It has a decorative zipper in the front, a zipper in the back for fast-pack items (change after I buy something), a zippered pocket inside, two large compartments, and two open pockets for my phone and other things I want to keep handy. After I bought it, I took it back to the hostel and left for Pere La Chaise Cemetery. I enjoyed taking the Metro to Gambetta Metro stop, since I was very confident in what I was doing.

I followed Rick Steves’ Pere La Chaise Cemetery Tour for 2 hours.  I entered at the Porte Gambetta entrance and walked along Avenue des Combattant, past World War memorials, and beneath a courtyard, where there was a darkened area (underground) for graves (called “niches”) and I found Maria Callas’ niche, as well as a few others. I then followed Rick’s directions to find the graves of Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison, Frederic Chopin, and Colette. Just as Rick said, there were lots of cobblestone paths, and they made me walk a bit slower than I am used to (not a bad thing).

I enjoy visiting sites for the sites themselves, but there is also a bit of a thrill to see sites I’ve seen in movies. One of the stories in Paris je t’aime takes place in Pere La Chaise, with Oscar Wilde and his grave being central to the story.

I had a scary encounter in one of the more vast areas of the cemetery, in the World War memorial section. Two guys came up to me within an inch of my face. I thought for sure they were going to rob me of my purse and/or the camera around my neck. I stood rod straight and told them I didn’t speak French very well. They seemed to enjoy taunting me and poking their fingers in my face. They left, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I need to remember to email Rick Steves when I get home and let him know he might want to provide an emergency number for police. (He included it, #17 for English-speaking police; I just didn’t see it.)  It isn’t that I don’t generally feel safe in Paris – I do – but I walk alone much of the time, and this was a frightening experience. Better to be safe than sorry.

I had done enough walking and it was starting to get colder. I had an espresso and got on the Metro. I got back to the hostel and immediately did my laundry in the laundry mat around the corner from the hostel. I later had a salad. I chatted with Nicdadya and she helped me with my phrase for tomorrow. Unfortunately, my nose won’t stop running. I have used all kinds of tissue today, and lots of it!

Salut!

“I was only sleeping…” by Stanze, taken on September 30, 2014, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Edith Piaf gravesite courtesy of Parisbuslady.com. All other images by Can Stock Photo.

Blogging about Paris has expanded my world in ways I couldn’t have counted on, like introducing me to French pop music. To me, Garou — who’s featured in the YouTube video — sounds like American singer Gordon Lightfoot — with a dash of French soul.

As of yesterday, November 29, I’ve been blogging about Paris for six months. I thought I’d share how my involvement with Paris has helped me, and some of the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

My trip to Paris last year saved my life. I don’t mean to overstate a point, but it is the truth. I’ve been through a great deal — including losing everything I owned prior to 2009 — and I wondered how I would ever “get my groove back.” Devastating pain made me remember what was first important to me, and France was the first thing I ever really cared about as a kid. I always wanted to hear about it, read about it, visit the country — which I first did in 1976 — and eat French food. In fact, the first thing I ever cooked was a crepe. (And I didn’t burn the house down.) With a surprise windfall, I went to Paris last year for a month and decided to write about it. As a result, I have a zest for life that I haven’t had in a long time.

Blogging (and my Paris trip) has opened the door to new opportunities. I discovered TripAdvisor and am now a Top Contributor with over 20,000 readers: My TripAdvisor reviews help to build my brand and give me writing experience. Who would have thought 20,000 people would be interested in what I have to say? Not me! Also, my website/blog has helped me improve my technological skills: I’ve learned about the technical points of digital imaging, become proficient in uploading digital images using a variety of platforms, learned WordPress, and how to use Google Maps and Google Earth (God-sends for anyone trying to immerse themselves in a foreign culture). While it has been challenging, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. In addition, the devastation I’ve faced plus the challenging, rewarding experience of blogging has opened the door to me being featured in an upcoming issue of “Women of Distinction Magazine.” I am excited and honored to be featured in it.

Blogging well is harder and more time-consuming than I thought. Any writer knows that to write well, one has to read a lot. I’ve generally been an avid reader, but I haven’t been able to read as much as I’d like. Consequently, my writing has suffered: More often than I’d like to admit, the prose has been stuck in my head. I’m going to try writing draft posts on paper like I did before I published: There seems to be something to words flowing from my head to pen to paper that gets my creative juices working. Admittedly, it isn’t just writing that takes an enormous amount of time. Sometimes I have to learn to do something new before using an image. Also, looking for just the right image for a post can set me back, since I’m not satisfied with just any image — it has to be the right one. 

I am immersing myself in French culture and I love it. I don’t want to just help people get to Paris, I also want to educate people on French culture and clarify myths and misconceptions. This means, of course, that I have to first learn (as an example) the origin of the phrase “pardon my French” before uttering a curse word came about before I can write about it. (The phrase evolved in England during the Hundred Years War between England and France in the 13th century: the English blamed all things vulgar as being from France.)

Speaking of the French language: I am so excited to say I’m (finally) learning French! I took French a long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away) and my circumstances at the time conspired to force me to drop it. It is one of the things I regret most about my early life. Immersing myself in French culture helped open this door for me. I found a great workbook (“French” by Danielle de Gregory) and French flash cards (by Quickstudy), and “Learn French With Alexa” videos on Youtube is the final piece of the learn-French trifecta that brings it all together. I previously learned English by phonics; Alexa is just what I was looking for in a French teacher.  She is French and has many years’ experience teaching French. She knows what she’s doing and she’s so funny, too. I also listen to RJM French Radio on the TuneIn radio app to help me learn French. Some of my favorite artists include Garou (oh, my, I love his voice), Celine Dion, Louane (“Jour un”), Johnny Hallyday, (“J’ai oublie de vivre”), and Christine and the Queens’ “Ca ne tient pas debout.” With the release of “La Vie en Rose” in 2008, I already had been introduced to Edith Piaf, one of the greatest French singers ever. French pop music is just as delightful to my ears.

I continue to seek ways to work and live in Paris. My heart and mind are with the victims and their families of the November 13th attacks. People have asked me if I was glad I wasn’t in Paris then; to the contrary, I wish I was there to give comfort and hope where they are needed.

Vive la France!

Thursday. Est-ce que je pourrais recuperer mon pantalon? May I pick up my pants? I have to go to the drycleaner today to pick up my black pants. Learning one French phrase at a time is better than none.

I got out a bit earlier today. I’m so tired of getting my hands cold maneuvering my camera and phone that I decided to buy a handbag. It’s a bit large: It has a decorative zipper in the front, a zipper in the back for fast-pack items (change after I buy something), a zippered pocket inside, two large compartments, and two open pockets for my phone and other things I want to keep handy. After I bought it, I took it back to the hostel and left for Pere La Chaise Cemetery. I enjoyed taking the Metro to Gambetta Metro stop, since I was very confident in what I was doing.

I followed Rick Steves’ Pere La Chaise Cemetery Tour for 2 hours.  I entered at the Porte Gambetta entrance and walked along Avenue des Combattant, past World War memorials, and beneath a courtyard, where there was a darkened area (underground) for graves (called “niches”) and I found Maria Callas’ niche, as well as a few others. I then followed Rick’s directions to find the graves of Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison, Frederic Chopin, and Colette. Just as Rick said, there were lots of cobblestone paths, and they made me walk a bit slower than I am used to (not a bad thing).

I enjoy visiting sites for the sites themselves, but there is also a bit of a thrill to see sites I’ve seen in movies. One of the stories in Paris je t’aime takes place in Pere La Chaise, with Oscar Wilde and his grave being central to the story.

I had a scary encounter in one of the more vast areas of the cemetery, in the World War memorial section. Two guys came up to me within an inch of my face. I thought for sure they were going to rob me of my purse and/or the camera around my neck. I stood rod straight and told them I didn’t speak French very well. They seemed to enjoy taunting me and poking their fingers in my face. They left, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I need to remember to email Rick Steves when I get home and let him know he might want to provide an emergency number for police. (He included it, #17 for English-speaking police; I just didn’t see it.)  It isn’t that I don’t generally feel safe in Paris – I do – but I walk alone much of the time, and this was a frightening experience. Better to be safe than sorry.

I had done enough walking and it was starting to get colder. I had an espresso and got on the Metro. I got back to the hostel and immediately did my laundry in the laundry mat around the corner from the hostel. I later had a salad. I chatted with Nicdadya and she helped me with my phrase for tomorrow. Unfortunately, my nose won’t stop running. I have used all kinds of tissue today, and lots of it!

Salut!

“I was only sleeping…” by Stanze, taken on September 30, 2014, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Edith Piaf gravesite courtesy of Parisbuslady.com.