A baby sized leap into a world of endless possibilities. It all came together in 3 weeks but had been living dormant in my soul forever. With tons of determination, I hope that this will become a trial run for seasonal living without bounds.
“The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.” Anais Nin
O hot damn! Bringing it home at Mama Shelter. Another slam dunk for Philippe Stark. One step
inside this eclectic pearl and I was sold. It’s situated way the hell out in BFE,
Bumb Fuck Egypt for those of you out of the lingo loop, aka the 20th
arrondissement. And for my non-Parisian pals that’s as far out on the skirts as
you can get but still be in Paris. A joke really, considering nothing is more
than 20 minutes away. If you are there it’s because you are clearly awesome
enough to be in the know (2nd year running) and committed enough to go. Once you arrive it’s a 12-15
euro cab ride to anything else worth hanging out. Doesn’t sound like much for
USA terms but that’s high for Parisian standards. They are used to being within
a 10 minute walk to everything.
First impression was on a Tuesday night and it was a roar. That’s
quite the feet for Paris summertime. You can be hard pressed to find a good
crowd on a Saturday in the months of July and mainly August. Again, scandalous
for American terms, where summertime is party time in every nook and cranny. It’s
the creation of a wealthy gym chain owning fam and a French philosopher. Chalk
written ceilings, dim lite, masterfully decorated restaurant, lounge, and
hotel. A bit industrial, wood slab tables dabbled in colorful, stir crazy artwork
and even a fuzzball table. Unique forms hanging about, tv’s in the restroom stalls,
sexy denim apron wearing crew. They have funny masks and camera’s in every
hotel room that allow the guests to photograph themselves, as you’d like,
clothing optional. The feed then leads back to a reel of photo’s running on the
tv screens in the restaurant and bar.
The lobby has a large glass display of sex toys, lubricants
and sensual reads. Titles include most memorably "The Big Pussy Book". Yet some how it has totally bypassed the coin operated bed,
scummy motel image despite it’s far out
local, admittedly not in the nicest part of town. As mad is it sounds, tastefully
dispersed raunch. The crowd is classy and lookers of all ages. Reservations are
hard to come by but a good time is a given. Oooo and did I mention prices for a night start at 79 euros! Sold! It’s on the short list, hopefully more to
come. Clear, un-treated addiction.
Ladies! Why must we be so damn mean to each other? Enough with
the dirty looks and cold comments. There is more to life than evacuating the
likes of any neighboring vagina’s with your wicked bitch face. Okay, fine! That
may be a bit harsh. But I’m just saying, the world would be a much happier
place if we could just get along.
I arrived at La Perle this weekend to meet up with my
favorite muse, Jean-Baptist. Just one of those people that has you always engulfed
in conversation and constantly attracting people to the mix. A rare breed and a
delight. I arrived a bit early and him a
bit late which left me with a good half an hour to be a single girl alone at a bar.
I never do this, ever and so it was a culture shock. The men stood by assessing
the situation as I ordered my drink. Surveying and glancing about to see who I
was waiting for. The woman grasped their men tight, grabbed their faces as they
glanced and even forced kisses. They tried burning holes in me with their best mean face. Certainly acquired by much practice in mean girl academy. And even when Jean-Baptist arrived, they’d check him out,
understandably, he’s a very handsome guy, and then would give me the full stare
down to assess the competition. It was like being in the jungle with a pack of
wild beasts. Ugliness ladies!
Which reminds me…I’ve recently had quite a few in depth
conversations about exactly what makes
up the stereotype of the rude Frenchy. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, my
sexy friends. Just here to clarify. Many will say that it is not in fact the
Frenchies but the Parisians. The funny part about that is ask any one and they
will be hard pressed to count up 5 people who are actually born and raised in
Paris. There are hardly any children here but that could be a big city thing, cost of living etc. The studies say birth rates are neck and neck.
So what is it? The general head down, I’m in a rush, don’t
talk to me, fine are you talking to me? Short response for you---thing. I’ve
had friends and family visit and they say the same. It’s the 99% grumpy face.
The no effort in smiles for strangers. Smiles are hard to come by period and
frankly I miss them. I shoot them off like it’s my job and it scares the crap
out of people. As for the women, they look on inquisitively at first and if you keep at it, you
see the corners of their lips raise. You can do it! It’s hard to not smile back
when faced with a dead on ear to ear. And the men, in the land of bitter bitch face, means would you like to practice your vertical tango? Perhaps a reason why most of the woman, expats and all assimilate.
I’ve heard from full on Parisian’s that the idea is that
saying, “Hi, How are you?” or anything beyond the robotic “Bonjour” is perceived
as fakeness. That it is more real to carry on as if you don’t care because you
don’t. And so is it in the water? Don’t you guys come to America and enjoy a
little smile with your morning toast? Aren’t the differences obvious? I get the
realism but as we say “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Once you get past the hello’s
and into friendship the world changes and the people I’ve met here are as
interesting as can be. Well educated, well traveled, inspiring, the works.
Now back to woman and woman on woman crime. This is a global
phenomenon. NO exceptions found so far. I surmise that it is a general lack of
confidence that makes us this way. Why else fear the “competition” if you have your
ducks in order. So what has to change? Let’s all start with fake smiles!
Reminded of Oscar Wilde:
"Women are meant to be loved, not understood."
Reminded of a little Lana Del Rey:
"This is what makes us girls
We all look for heaven and we put love first
Something that we'd die forIt's our curse.
Don't cry about it"
And how about some Shakespeare:
“The venom clamors of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth"
Whenever confronted with Woman on Woman crime, I like to envision Damon Wayans and David Alan Grier giving the Zorro Snap: Feel free to fast forward to minute 2:40.
Or two snaps up in a circle: Minute 2:44
and my all time favorite the Superbowl Snap: Minute 5:00
It all started with a 6am wake-up from the trusty iphone
jingle. Of course I didn’t pack until an hour before departure. I wouldn’t have
recognized myself! Off to the train station to take my first EuroStar voyage. I’ve
taken trains on my European vacation but never with border patrol. What a treat!
UK Border Portal: Step up!
---Reviewing Passsport and Tickets---
UK Border Patrol: Why are you going to London?
Me: To visit the city and meet up with friends for the
weekend.
UK Border Patrol: Why have you been in France for so long?
Me: Because I like it and I travel as much as I can.
UK Border Patrol: So then you don’t work? You don’t make
money? Who do you live off?
Me:I work and make money. I work remotely for a technology company
and so I can live where I want, when I want.
UK Border Patrol: So you are using the UK to extend your
stay in France. ” Because you like it”, is not a good enough reason.
Me: I am not using the UK. I have not violated any
immigration rules. I’m well within my rights. I’m here for the weekend, as a
tourist to blow my money. I can’t imagine the UK has a problem with that.
UK Border Patrol: I don’t trust that you won’t try to stay
in London. You are obviously trying to not return to your own country.
Me: I love my country. And if this is any indication of what
it’s like on the other side, I can assure you the chances of me even wanting to
stay are nil.
UK Border Patrol: I’m putting a mark on your immigration
status. And you better leave by Sunday or you are going to have some real
problems.
So that was fun! Two more trains and I was at the foot of my
hotel. Except it turned out my room was “having electrical issues.” This after waiting in the lobby for an hour. The owner kept
me company and tons of advice about my stay. I was asked to stay at a nearby
hotel until tomorrow. They were friendly about it so I went happily. The new
spot was even more central and had a hot morning breakfast to boot. The next
day I return and again my room was not ready. This time it was because the others
were not checking out soon enough. The owner say’s,”I’ve booked you a room in
the most posh part of town. It will suit you. It’s were all the young people
are and all the best restaurants. They owe me a favor. I’ll take you now.” He whisks me off in his Audi
A8 and drops me off at a place just as described. Wowzers! What an upgrade! A
300 pounds per night upgrade! It pays to be friendly.
Not Roughing it...
This city is gorgeous! My initial impression was in the burbs
and I can say that the first thing I noticed was the amount of over weight seemingly
unhealthy people. I say seemingly because I'm no doctor but I hear muffin tops are no bueno for the health. And boy are there muffin tops, and no one trying to hide it. Reminded me a bit of America. Which is normally comforting
but this is the type of things America could work on. Second
observation, these people are loud! Again, reminder of home but not the part
that makes me miss it. Third observation, boy is there a hell of a lot of junk
food places: street food and greasy eats. Affirmation of observation number one and again America.
Once I made it into the heart of the city, Piccadilly
Circus, Leicester Square things started to change. The architecture is
stunning. So romantic, so classy and clean. Sexy curves and carvings. The fire
red double decker buses wizzing by and the awesome retro cabs everywhere. Impeccably
clean and organized. At night the city is artistically and colorfully lit up as are the bridges.
London you are a real stunner! And the city has taken their Olympic duties seriously. There are booths and helpful people all about ready to help out the tourists hailing from all over the globe. Wide-eyed, maps in hand, fanny packs and all.
I was out with 2 gorgeous Latina ladies and the men have
surely noticed. They look out of the very corner of their eyes as if two scared
to even lift their heads. It’s pretty cute. The ones inebriated or cocky enough
to say something, are usually the ones not smart enough to come up with
anything interesting. I’ll report back more as the weekend progresses but so
far, British pick-up skills are lacking immensely. They need a weekend with the
Italians to even things out.
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