I love the picture of the green on green wall tree. I think all big cities - Paris, London, NYC, etc have multiple personalities and finding the odd spots that charm can be hit and miss. We went to Paris in early spring and were both frozen and disappointed. Decided to try it again some years later and had a wonderful time. I remember a tiny, perfectly turned out Parisian woman who saw us puzzling over a map and asked “Êtes-vous perdu?” and proceeded to send us in the right direction. It made our day. And yes, I noticed that Paris was really not disabled friendly (and not easy for coeliacs either).
Yeah, like when Mark and I went to Cambridge in 1972 on our honeymoon road trip. We found Harvard so unfriendly. Of course, we were Berkeley students and didn't understand access is different for private schools. We tried to go into what we thought was a classroom building, but it was one of the residences. We scooted right out. Not until I made the college tour with Maggie in about '97 was I able to appreciate the school or the city.
I love your poem about your morning routine. It takes me about four hours of "routine," rote habit to be sure, before consciousness kicks in ... or I kick myself into action doing chores and seizing the day.
I never made it to Paris on my brief passages in Europe, but I did visit a penpal in England, a little village named Didcott. We went to London for a day, and exploration for all of us. The one thing that sticks firmly in mind is riding on the Underground and passing by ancient Roman structures. It was just a brief, sunlit glimpse as the Underground emerged into the open before diving back under the earth.
Couldn't ride the Underground because of accessibility, and same for the buses with the steep stairs. My daughter told me today she finally made it to the British Museum a few months ago. When I booked the hotel, I thought it was close to the museum, but online maps didn't exist then. It turned out to be miles away.
I keep wanting to write about "morning routine" but it changes all the time. Sometimes I work breakfast in.
Ah, The Paris Novel. When this hit my radar, I got my book club to read it. I was not a Gourmet reader but found Comfort Me With Apples a revelation in that it introduced me to the idea of food writing. Ruth Reichl has a Substack, too: La Briffe.
I’ve been to Paris twice and loved it both times. Maybe it helped that I experienced it with people who knew the city, which makes for a very different experience.
My philosophy about failure is that it is learning in disguise. Own it, accept the lesson and move on.
At the airport, Robert and I ran into my daughter's former boyfriend (they met at Harvard as volunteers for Model United Nations). I wish I had asked him to show us around. Not only does he speak fluent French, he was in town to attend the Sorbonne, studying the French legal system. Both he and Maggie were familiar with the city, as MUN has a European conference every year.
I just got Save Me the Plums from the library. It's about Reichl's time at Gourmet.
Speaking of Paris, I've never been there, but I just finished a book "1944" about the German occupation during WWII and its subsequent celebration when the Free French and Eisenhower's troops marched in. It's a fascinating look at how nostalgia and myth-making defined the postwar view of the period as historical truth. Things are not always as they seem. In one of the last scenes of the movie "Is Paris Burning?" an innocent infantryman, Sergeant Warren is celebrating in a corner bistrot. "You know, this is exactly how I thought Paris would be," says the sargeant. "A little place like this. Checkered table cloths. Red wine.". Then a hidden German shoots him.
I love the picture of the green on green wall tree. I think all big cities - Paris, London, NYC, etc have multiple personalities and finding the odd spots that charm can be hit and miss. We went to Paris in early spring and were both frozen and disappointed. Decided to try it again some years later and had a wonderful time. I remember a tiny, perfectly turned out Parisian woman who saw us puzzling over a map and asked “Êtes-vous perdu?” and proceeded to send us in the right direction. It made our day. And yes, I noticed that Paris was really not disabled friendly (and not easy for coeliacs either).
Yeah, like when Mark and I went to Cambridge in 1972 on our honeymoon road trip. We found Harvard so unfriendly. Of course, we were Berkeley students and didn't understand access is different for private schools. We tried to go into what we thought was a classroom building, but it was one of the residences. We scooted right out. Not until I made the college tour with Maggie in about '97 was I able to appreciate the school or the city.
I love your poem about your morning routine. It takes me about four hours of "routine," rote habit to be sure, before consciousness kicks in ... or I kick myself into action doing chores and seizing the day.
I never made it to Paris on my brief passages in Europe, but I did visit a penpal in England, a little village named Didcott. We went to London for a day, and exploration for all of us. The one thing that sticks firmly in mind is riding on the Underground and passing by ancient Roman structures. It was just a brief, sunlit glimpse as the Underground emerged into the open before diving back under the earth.
Couldn't ride the Underground because of accessibility, and same for the buses with the steep stairs. My daughter told me today she finally made it to the British Museum a few months ago. When I booked the hotel, I thought it was close to the museum, but online maps didn't exist then. It turned out to be miles away.
I keep wanting to write about "morning routine" but it changes all the time. Sometimes I work breakfast in.
Ah, The Paris Novel. When this hit my radar, I got my book club to read it. I was not a Gourmet reader but found Comfort Me With Apples a revelation in that it introduced me to the idea of food writing. Ruth Reichl has a Substack, too: La Briffe.
https://ruthreichl.substack.com/
I’ve been to Paris twice and loved it both times. Maybe it helped that I experienced it with people who knew the city, which makes for a very different experience.
My philosophy about failure is that it is learning in disguise. Own it, accept the lesson and move on.
At the airport, Robert and I ran into my daughter's former boyfriend (they met at Harvard as volunteers for Model United Nations). I wish I had asked him to show us around. Not only does he speak fluent French, he was in town to attend the Sorbonne, studying the French legal system. Both he and Maggie were familiar with the city, as MUN has a European conference every year.
I just got Save Me the Plums from the library. It's about Reichl's time at Gourmet.
Speaking of Paris, I've never been there, but I just finished a book "1944" about the German occupation during WWII and its subsequent celebration when the Free French and Eisenhower's troops marched in. It's a fascinating look at how nostalgia and myth-making defined the postwar view of the period as historical truth. Things are not always as they seem. In one of the last scenes of the movie "Is Paris Burning?" an innocent infantryman, Sergeant Warren is celebrating in a corner bistrot. "You know, this is exactly how I thought Paris would be," says the sargeant. "A little place like this. Checkered table cloths. Red wine.". Then a hidden German shoots him.
Wow! What an anecdote! Life can be so ironic. Also, glad to see you are posting.