Paris, encore.

As it seems that we are going to be in Paris again in September for Richard's new job...I think now is a good time to finally finish writing about our last adventure there... 

The best thing about big cities is that no matter how often you visit them, there is always something new to experience. For our last little voyage, I saw Paris with new eyes...French ones! It was the first time I'd been there with an actual French person, and also the first time Richard and I officially traveled together.

So what do French people do when they go to Paris? Well of course, they NEVER pay for hotels, but stay with their very generous friends instead.

Steph and Fabrice <3

Stephanie is from Reunion, so her mom sent us over with a couple bottles of homemade rum and 4 kilos of samoussas and fresh fruit. Her and Fabrice are total Parisian artists; they have a band and do other odd jobs to support themselves. They lead us on such nightly adventures as the karaoke bar in Montparnasse, and this amazing little Corsican Restaurant (Corsica is another French island) right next to the Sacre  Cœur in Montmartre, my favorite place in the whole wide world. The owner and his wife do all the traditional Corsican cooking, and then when everyone's tummies are full, he breaks out his guitar and microphone and sings. Stephanie, a regular, jumped in with him, as did another woman from the table next to us. Soon, everyone in the tiny restaurant was singing together. 

The karaoke bar, "New York Cafe" in Montparnasse.

"Le Lamarck" in Montmartre

The real reason we were in Paris is because Richard had a two-day workshop, so his trip was all expenses paid. I was a happy tag-along. But that also meant that I had two days alone in Paris, and luckily...I knew just who to go visit.

Carrie and I have a long history of globe trotting together...after we met a few years ago while working as cocktail servers at the Cowboy's Stadium in Texas, we went on a week long cruise to Jamaica, Grand Caymen, and Cozumel with our friend Ken. We swam with dolphins, danced around in dreads, and laughed non-stop. Carrie is currently living with her French boyfriend in Paris, so obviously we had to catch up. We did some shopping...had a picnic lunch outside Palais Tokyo, and then Carrie saved me from some mean pickpocket lady that tried to get me with the gold ring trick! Then I accompanied Carrie as she did her grocery shopping for the evening meal...oysters, pasta and some amazing wine from the Galleries Lafayette's Gourmet section. Oh, Paris...

I had recently learned about the "Lover's Bridge." (thanks Pinterest!) On the Pont des Arts, couples from all over the world attach padlocks to the bridge as a symbol of their everlasting devotion, and then throw the key into the Seine River. 

Apparently this is kind of a hotly disputed ritual, because there are many angry Parisians protesting that the locks are destroying the landscape, that they are causing harm to the bridge from all the extra weight, etc. etc. etc. I understand, and ok maybe they are wearing the bridge down...but I'm sorry, I still think it's beautiful and unique and a perfect expression for the City of Love. Besides, didn't the Parisians collectively hate the Eiffel Tower after it was constructed? They're just so silly! 

The other cool thing about traveling with a French guy in Paris is that he knows secrets!! Like this rooftop bar at the top of Au Printemps with only one of my favorite views ever! 

We of course did many of the usual "must sees:"

This was taken just outside of his friend's apartment!!! It's not a badly situated place to live, if you ask me...

Metro Naviation is an art.

Chipotle is always a must-see for me.

Sacre Cœur

Street artists in Montmartre

Yeah...those little jerks.

Then we discovered some things new to both of us...

Carnavalet, a free museum about the history of Paris.

The Famous Falafel place in the Marais, L'as du Fallafel.

The Madeline

Fauchon, a famous gourmet food store

By far, the coolest part of the trip was visiting the Musée des Arts Forains. It's not open to the public; you have to request a tour in advance. The museum is a mysterious old man's private collection of vintage carnival pieces, and it is divided into giant Moulin Rouge-like rooms with red velvet curtains drooping from the dimly lit ceilings. 

Our tour guide was an amazing storyteller.

Then we got to play!! 

The only tour guide who does a magic show...

We were actually kind of lucky to get in to our tour, thanks to my awesome
(read: horrible)  French speaking skills on the phone. Well actually, I made the reservation via Skype, which for me is even more difficult to understand than the phone. I mistook the lady saying 12:00 for 2:00 (ok but who says douze heures? Why not midi?!) and so when we arrived at 2, we were informed of our extreme tardiness. Fortuitously, they were more than understanding when I explained what had happened in my thick American accent. They let us in immediately, and we were able to join another group who had just started 20 minutes earlier. He told us we had missed the first room, but that he would take us there himself if we could find him after our tour was over. 

And that's exactly what we did. We went back to the first room, and then he asks us, "so do you want to see something cool?" Umm..always. He takes us into the party side, where the rooms are even more grand and even more ornate than the ones we saw, which were being prepared for someone rich's wedding. After that, he lead us into the back of the property where our mysterious patron keeps all of the things he's collected but hasn't yet added to his showrooms....

It was like something out of a horror film, honestly!! These pieces were just So. Old. And creepy. And staring at me as I walked by from their dust covered shelves that never seemed to end. Then our guide got an urgent phone call and had to run out for a few minutes, leaving us alone with the...pieces...

That's when things really started to get creepy.

No, I'm kidding. We just nosed around a bit and our guide came back and we left. But it was pretty awesome. And it just goes to show you (read: me) that sometimes miscommunication can actually work out for the better!! 

After that, we spent some time in St. Germain with Richard's old college friends whom I love and wish they lived in Reunion...

...because of their awesome international wives!!! 

Mexican, American, Armenian.

We stumbled upon a random art house...

And voila! We left at night, and Paris blew us a little goodbye kiss:

What a great city.

Riddles.

What gets farther away the closer you approach it?

One answer to this riddle apparently could be "the United States," because I have never been more anxious to go home than in these last 19 days before departure!! My whole body has shut down. There is nothing on Reunion Island that I can force myself to eat anymore. I don't want any stupid rice, I am currently no longer amused by stinky cheese...I don't drool over fancy french pastries...not even a warm baguette can entice me these days. You know what I do want for dinner? A giant, delicious (steroided, I don't even care) steak. A Subway sandwich! Real Tex-Mex! Microwave popcorn!! Fresh spinach!!!

Yesterday was France's version of our Independence Day, the day when they cut off the heads of their monarchs and started a democracy. I did not hear one little peep about this holiday, except in the main city where a few days before, lots of little baby French flags suddenly sprung up out of nowhere. I understand they also had some disappointing fireworks later at night, but no one I know actually went.

On the 4th of July I was so homesick I just sat at the computer, you-tubing videos of firework displays all over the US, sobbing hysterically and stuffing my face with make-shift "American" food, that I decided at the last minute we HAD TO HAVE in order to celebrate. Poor Richard was probably terrified, but he took me to the store so we could buy ingredients to make soft pretzels, chicken-like "hot dogs" (which are sooo not hot dogs!) Doritos that cost 3x as much as they do back home, and a bottle of Coca-Cola covered in Thai writing. Then I stumbled upon a video of the Army marching in an Independence Day parade, which made me remember for like the first time since it happened ten years ago that I was once an Army soldier marching in an Independence Day parade. This made me cry all over again and for a few seconds I got all nostalgic about my Army days, which was when I first realized that I have a problem. So I did the only thing a girl can do in such a situation; I called my Dad, and pretended like everything was laughable so we could laugh about it. Except I'm pretty sure we both had secret tears in our eyes all the while.

So I guess since then, you could say I've been emotionally charged. This is my real riddle, though, because I can't really put my finger on it. It feels a lot bigger than just being homesick.

This extra charge manifests itself in quite unusual ways. In social situations, I am much more awkward than usual. Unexpectedly meeting people I don't know sends me into a panic. On Sunday, we had a giant BBQ for Richard's mom's 50th Birthday and the hysteria in that house in the morning was so thick I literally couldn't breathe. No one else seemed phased by all the yelling and running around, but my little emo-charge took on the form of a sponge and just sucked up all of that chaos until I thought my head was going to explode.

Luckily, after we got everything set up and the guests arrived, I could breathe again and we ended up sharing a really great moment together:

Their country line-dancing instructor was there, so between courses, we all learned a couple songs :-)

But then...there's this twitchy feeling that I just can't shake...like I'm supposed to be preparing for something that's about to happen but I have no clue what it is. This is accompanied by crazy vivid dreams at night and a deep burning desire for some spiritual insights. The other day I asked Elena what she thinks life is all about, and she paused for a second. "I don't know, really. Except nature. I believe in nature." I got chills.

Feeling that she's on to something, I begged Richard to take me on an adventure on Saturday. We stumbled upon a park and ended up on a secret trail in the woods. You want to know a thing about Richard? He has two very distinct sides to him, (like many of us) but I don't know if he knows about them. The first one is like a veneer--the refined, proper, parent/boss/people pleasing achiever, who doesn't get his shoes dirty, and the second one is however you might describe someone who is vibrating with freedom. Sometimes when I ask Richard questions, I think his first answer isn't really his, but his mom's. Or dad's. Or society's. But then after the conditioned frame...there is an honesty there, deeper than any shade of blue I've ever seen in the ocean. It really got me thinking about things we say because we've been kind of trained to say them. Maybe we even think we believe and agree with these things. But at a more profound level, we know a different truth.

  

 

  

 So we sat under a line of palm trees, playing with big blades of strange, fuzzy grass, and talked about ideas. I was slightly frustrated because every time I tried to explain the things that are in my head, they would get all riddled and lost and I couldn't straighten them out again. Maybe some things aren't meant to be spoken, but lived instead.

What gets farther away the closer you approach it?

The horizon.

As to what's on the horizon?

That's a riddle I'd like to find out the answer to....