The Champs-Elysee is framed by the Ferris Wheel of Paris (Roue de Paris) at one end, and the Arc de Triomphe at the other. Both are beautiful by day, magnificent at night.

Sunday. I had a great day today. I came back from Gold Hotel with little trouble, put my things down, and went and had a leisurely brunch at Cafe Bruant, near Plug-Inn. While there, I met a Parisian named Emile. We talked a lot, such as about the differences between Paris and L.A. He told me liked Paris much better: like many French people I’ve met, he said Americans only seem to be interested in making money – not enjoying life and the relationships we have with others. He also told me about his father’s business making luxury sheets and other things for the bedroom. He told me he is a writer. He spoke very good English, yet apologized for it. I wondered if he was angling for us to spend some time together, when all of a sudden his demeanor changed and he said he had to go. (What did the woman sitting next to me do? Why did it seem in my peripheral vision like she shook her head ‘no’?) He gave me directions to get to a gym, and I wondered if I can follow them. Before he left, he reminded me to go to the photography exhibit today at Grand Musee.

Parisians sit outside to eat and talk regardless of the weather. Relationships are what matter, not the weather.

The exhibit was huge! I saw what I could in 2 ½ hours. I was exhausted from concentrating. I decided to go walking along the Champs-Elysees and look at the Christmas exhibits, where people sell their wares in outdoor kiosks. In French I ordered a crepe with Grand Marnier. I hate to toot my own horn, but it felt great to see the woman’s eyes light up when I was able to order in French. On the other side of the street, I talked with a Moscovite about the lacquer boxes that he was displaying. I told him about the lacquer boxes I saw while I was in Moscow. He talked to me at length about where and how they are made. He seemed to enjoy talking about his homeland. He smiled when I said “spasibo” as I parted, and as I walked away I knew if I could have a superpower it would be to speak any language at any given moment. It makes people feel so validated to speak to them in their own language.

The Grand Musee, also called the Musee du Grand Palais, where the Photography Exhibit was held.

I walked some more along Champs-Elysees. I finally took the Metro back to the hostel, and grabbed some take-away chicken and rice from a Japanese restaurant nearby that I just know I’m going to be a regular at while I’m here. I’m exhausted. I want to remember to read about dinner cruises to see if I really want to go to the one I picked out before my trip; regardless of which one, I’ll need to book it online. I also want to read over how to get to London in Rick Steves’ book.

I have to remember to be unafraid to be true to who I am here. At home, I feel pressured not to be as feminine as I feel inside; Parisians aren’t like that. They accept my best self here. I love being here. I also need to remember my prayer time in the A.M.

Salut !

All images by Can Stock Photo.

Friday. I moved into another room with a skylight and only one other person, Violet. She and I had a long talk, during which I told her many of the basics of my situation. She told me she believed another country calls the shots in the U.S. and that the U.S. is run by an oligarchy, including corporations. (Perhaps I should say she is not from the U.S.) Intriguingly, I recently spoke with U.S. citizens who told me the same thing. She further said that if you put a group of people in a room, all from different countries, including the U.S., there would be a “heaviness” about us that we don’t see because we’re too close to it. She is so perceptive! She also asked me if I thought of going public about my situation, and suggested I have oral surgery as well. I told her it’s a matter of finding a dentist who will pull a tooth without asking the reason for my request, and whom I can trust. It isn’t so much that I can’t trust dentists — after all, my father was a dentist — but my situation requires me to be extra cautious.

It usually rains rather than snows in Paris, which is okay by me. I love the rain.

I felt very lethargic, possibly because of the rain (though I love rain). I didn’t get out of the hostel until about 4:45 P.M. I ate at Le Basilic again: tomatoes and mozzarella skewer, cod with spinach in a light sauce, bread, a glass of wine (Pinot Noir, a new favorite) and cappuccino. Culinary heaven. The French really know how to eat and live. I saw Violet out with friends. Later, Violet went to Moulin Rouge for a performance. I went to bed, though first I organized for my night at the Gold Hotel (tomorrow).

Salut !

Images by Can Stock Photo.

The first picture I took when I went sightseeing in Montmartre.

Wednesday. I slept and stayed in bed until just after 2:00 P.M. At 10:00 A.M. I was roused by a roommate who told me I had just missed breakfast! I didn’t want to get out of bed, I was so wiped out from leaving at night and travelling. (I’m not much of a night person.) After showering I went walking to see the neighborhood and take some pictures. I decided I was so hungry I didn’t want to walk around too much before I ate. I found Le Basilic on a strip of land quite close to Plug-Inn Hostel. I was the only patron there it was so early: the French tend to eat fairly late. The food was so good: 2 appetizers, one being salmon with avocado, bread, wine, Perrier, salad, and Cappuccino. All to the tunes of Barbara Streisand and French music playing sweetly in the background. It was fantastic! My first real meal in Paris for this trip, and one of the best meals I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to eat at Le Basilic again.

Inside Le Basilic in Montmartre.

Le Basilic in Montmartre serves the best food I’ve ever had. I ate there six times during my month-long stay in Paris.

I went walking around Montmartre, Pigalle and Clignancourt. Right across the street from the Moulin Rouge I saw a sign peeking through scaffolding for the Gold Hotel. When I walked in, the man at the desk was on the phone. Nonchalantly, I gazed up at a framed piece of paper, and noticed it was a posting of their room rates. I tried not to react when I noticed that a single room was 140 euros. I knew it was the slow season so I might be able to get a better rate. After he hung up the phone and we greeted each other in French (and then I asked him if he spoke English, which he did), in my best confident yet feminine voice, I told him I would like a room for Saturday, since the place I’m staying at for a month doesn’t have room for me for one night. We talked about what I wanted in an une chamber (room), though I honestly don’t remember if I asked for a King- or Queen-sized bed. I asked whether une chamber avec douche et WC (the room had a full bathroom), and he said “Yes, of course.” (Some don’t.) We talked about everything except price. Finally, I could tell he was weighing how much he was going to charge me. Being the good negotiator I am, I allowed him to bring it up and I didn’t rush him. He noticed I didn’t have luggage with me so he couldn’t determine my socio-economic status by the price of my luggage. He gave a good look at me and said, “Seventy euros for the night.” I told him that was acceptable, though inwardly I was celebrating. He then asked if I wanted breakfast for an additional 10 Euros. I told him no, thank you, since I knew I could get back to the hostel for my free breakfast or grab something on the way back for half that price. He told me he didn’t require me to pay up front and I could cancel if I wanted to. He gave me a piece of paper that said I had a reservation and how much the room was, but it didn’t have the Gold Hotel logo on it; he said I would get that when I checked in. (How odd is that?) I walked out feeling pretty confident, since I was going to stay in a 3-Star Hotel (according to the literature I saw on the wall) for half price.

One of my roommates is here for the Photography Conference & Exhibition I read about before I left the U.S. Great! I told her I would love to come with her, or at least go to the exhibit. She said she might have to stick with her group which is being led by her instructor. I also met a French guy who visited one of the staff; he told me an organization is looking for people to teach English. (!) I need to think of all the things I’ve done that relate to teaching English (like substitute teaching, editing, writing, I’m a published author, I created the Essay Pyramid for international students). Unfortunately, when I went to take a shower I found out that my personal care items weren’t in my backpack…when did they go missing? I’m not happy having to spend money again for my personal care items, but I can’t believe I told myself not to skimp on security and then I did just that. I didn’t want to spend another $10 on a lock, and now I have to spend a small fortune re-buying personal care items. How many times do I have to ignore my own advice before I’ll learn?

I need to remind myself to change $200 to Euros tomorrow before I go shopping.

Salut !

Image of exterior of Le Basilic by Wikimedia Commons, CCBY 3.0. Other images by the author.

The Champs-Elysee is framed by the Ferris Wheel of Paris (Roue de Paris) at one end, and the Arc de Triomphe at the other. Both are beautiful by day, magnificent at night.

Sunday. I had a great day today. I came back from Gold Hotel with little trouble, put my things down, and went and had a leisurely brunch at Cafe Bruant, near Plug-Inn. While there, I met a Parisian named Emile. We talked a lot, such as about the differences between Paris and L.A. He told me liked Paris much better: like many French people I’ve met, he said Americans only seem to be interested in making money – not enjoying life and the relationships we have with others. He also told me about his father’s business making luxury sheets and other things for the bedroom. He told me he is a writer. He spoke very good English, yet apologized for it. I wondered if he was angling for us to spend some time together, when all of a sudden his demeanor changed and he said he had to go. (What did the woman sitting next to me do?) He gave me directions to get to a gym, and I wondered if I can follow them. Before he left, he reminded me to go to the photography exhibit today at Grand Musee.

Parisians sit outside to eat and talk regardless of the weather. Relationships are what matter, not the weather.

The exhibit was huge! I saw what I could in 2 ½ hours. I was exhausted from concentrating. I decided to go walking along the Champs-Elysees and look at the Christmas exhibits, where people sell their wares in outdoor kiosks. In French I ordered a crepe with Grand Marnier. I hate to toot my own horn, but it felt great to see the woman’s eyes light up when I was able to order in French. On the other side of the street, I talked with a Moscovite about the lacquer boxes that he was displaying. I told him about the lacquer boxes I saw while I was in Moscow. He talked to me at length about where and how they are made. He seemed to enjoy talking about his homeland. He smiled when I said “spasibo” as I parted, and as I walked away I knew if I could have a superpower it would be to speak any language at any given moment. It makes people feel so validated to speak to them in their own language.

The Grand Musee, also called the Musee du Grand Palais, where the Photography Exhibit was held.

I walked some more along Champs-Elysees. I finally took the Metro back to the hostel, and grabbed some take-away chicken and rice from a Japanese restaurant nearby that I just know I’m going to be a regular at while I’m here. I’m exhausted. I want to remember to read about dinner cruises to see if I really want to go to the one I picked out before my trip; regardless of which one, I’ll need to book it online. I also want to read over how to get to London in Rick Steves’ book.

I have to remember to be unafraid to be true to who I am here. At home, I feel pressured not to be as feminine as I feel inside; Parisians aren’t like that. They accept my best self here. I love being here. I also need to remember my prayer time in the A.M.

Salut.