an ongoing, incomplete promise…
I rarely post about anything that’s not Paris, writing, or, well, me-related, but I just had to share because this put a big smile on my face today.
An awesome dad (handsome, too!), cutie-pie kids, and Depeche Mode?!
Everything counts, y’all.
Have a great start to your week and enjoy!
Paris 2012 Tweetup at O Chateau
One of the things I am most grateful for about my life in Paris is all the amazing people I’ve met. Common themes often arise when you ask expats how they ended up in the City of Light – love, work, happy accident.
But it takes a special measure of fortitude and creativity to pick up and move to another country. So it’s no surprise then to run into so many interesting folks. We may not be the “Lost Generation,” but I think there are deep things we have found.
What do I mean by that? Well, last night was the first “Tweetup” of 2012, held at O Chateau. (Jeez there are of a lot of us bloggers/Tweeters! There must have been 40 of us packing the friendly wine bar.) As I chatted my way through the crowd, this reality that so many people have remade their lives here kept coming to the fore.
Me on Pont des Arts
I’m delighted to be featured today in Lost in Cheeseland’s “Franco File Friday” series.
Lindsey, the creator of Lost in Cheeseland, has been making quite a name for herself and her award-winning blog. The Franco File Friday series is just one reason, highlighting short interviews with everyone from Elaine Sciolino, The New York Times Paris bureau chief, to Meg Zimbeck, foodie about town and founder of Paris by Mouth.
I’m not sure what I’m doing in such illustrious company, but it’s pretty cool! I especially appreciated Lindsey’s introduction. Click on this link to see how I answered questions about creativity, escaping Paris, and summing up what I love about France in just 3 words.
Enjoy!
When I started becoming active online, I had to come to terms with certain norms. Like the fact that abbreviations were not only acceptable, but sometimes necessary.
Twitter’s 140 character limit, for example, sometimes forces me to substitute “2nite” for “tonight” or “u” for “you” if pressed for space. This is also common text speak.
I try to do this as little as humanly possible, however. Why? Because I die a little inside each time I do.
My writing in French is horrible, though. There’s barely a sentence that’s not riddled with some kind of error.
So I can’t really complain about badly written French.
Still, I saw this ad in a metro station and physically recoiled:
For those requiring translation I think it would read something like this in English:
“I wud like to b a riter cuz I adore writing. Its a reel pasion.” (Shudders).
I hopped on the train, happy to be whisked away from this awful sight.
When I arrived at my stop, though, I was confronted with another ad in the same series:
This one had no spelling mistakes (well, as far as I can tell). Instead the message was:
“Later, I would like to be a physical therapist so I can manipulate men.”
They grow up so fast. My baby blog is now a toddler – two years today!
One-handed baby lift in Buttes Chaumont
Soon the blog may even go from babbling to talking.
And before I know it, it might start causing trouble.
Hanging out in bars.
Slamming back whisky.
Any guesses what this is?
Blue orb in the night
Ok, I will not be cruel. I will just tell you.
Autolib’ is Paris’ new electric car rental system. It uses the same principal as Velib, the ever popular bike rental program. Users can choose between an annual, weekly, or daily subscription, which in turn allows them to take a car wherever they may be. (Swipe a card for a car! Wow!)
Vroom, vroom? (What sound does an electric car make?)
I noticed the cute little vehicles in December when the program launched, but I was stopped short recently by the sight of the glowing orb above. I hadn’t yet seen the stations. The stations are glowing orbs!
I saw the blue lights and immediately wondered what kind of alien pod it was. (Ahem, I guess this is why I’m a fiction writer? Hello, reality? Are you there? It’s me, Sion).
This video has been making the rounds of my friends in France. Probably because it’s true!
#2 cracks me up the most. The examples may seem a bit exaggerated, but I can vouch that all of these “mouth gestures/sounds” have a basis in reality. (Oh la la! Pfff!)
Funny thing is, I *do* speak French now, but I unconsciously make the mouth sounds, anyway. Guess I’m really authentic!
Enjoy!
Well the new year is starting off well. I’m thrilled to share my first publication of 2012 – and a fitting new year’s essay it is. Read on to find out why.
For the past three and a half years, I’ve lived a ten-minute walk from Père Lachaise, the famed Parisian cemetery that’s home to many historic luminaries – everyone from Abelard to Chopin, Edith Piaf to Marcel Proust.
In recent weeks, talk has centered on writer Oscar Wilde; his tomb now stands encircled by thick glass, a barrier aimed to protect the stone from endless admirers’ kisses. (Of course people have already started leaving their lipstick prints on the Plexiglas instead).
Despite my close proximity to Père Lachaise, picking up the Parisian affection for the place didn’t come naturally. Not only tourists in search of Jim Morrison’s grave frequent Père Lachaise, you see. Parisians adore their largest cemetery and a stroll along its cobblestone alleys is as popular a local pastime as any.
It took me some time to understand the appeal. Tracking down rock stars’ headstones seemed less bizarre than having dates amongst the dead.
Then one day….
Yes! A cliffhanger! To read the rest of the essay, head on over to Numero Cinq.
Enjoy!
A bit of poetry to start the new year…
To the New Year by W.S. Merwin
With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning
so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible
paris (im)perfect 