I delayed posting this blog because we were so saddened by the horrific shooting in Texas.  How are we going to cope with these events — and surely there are more to come. Gun control? Mental health treatment? All of the above — we are a nation that needs to start confronting this issue with solutions.  I hope the conversation will start now.    

Paris in November and the weather is wonderful!

What is it about Paris that draws us here over and over again?  Aside from all of the obvious things that anyone loves about Paris, according to George, it is the total change of scenery and that we slip into a different culture with a different way of living.    Our phone isn’t ringing incessantly with solicitation requests and robocalls, and we don’t have to deal with the daily barrage of junk mail.    We do have a list of things we have to think about and do — I won’t go through them. (Hint: eat, drink and be merry!).

We arrived at Paris’ Orly Airport on Monday morning around noon. What a shock coming from vanilla Iceland to the mélange of humanity at Orly. The flight had only taken a little over 3 hrs, but it seemed as though we’d travelled halfway around the globe or maybe even to another planet.   Exiting Orly was easy.   There was no passport control for our flight (Iceland is not part of the E.U – so I’m confused), our luggage came right out, there was no line for taxis (plenty of them here in Paris) and shortly we were on our way to our apartment. (With the competition from Uber, Paris taxis now have a set price for travel to and from the airports. From Orly it is 35 euros regardless of how much time might be spent sitting in traffic.)

We always have a warm feeling as we load ourselves and our luggage into our little elevator, get out on our floor, put the key in the front door and voilà: home away from home. Since we don’t live here all the time, and are not fluent in French, having good neighbors is critical and on that score we are lucky. Our upstairs neighbors had let our former guardienne (formerly called concierge – the woman who usually lives in on the ground floor, keeps the building neat and tidy, sorts the mail and knows everything that is going on with the occupants) know we were coming.  She cleans our apartment and again did a super job.

We shopped for basics at Monoprix and now, with bags unpacked, the computer set up, and tooth brushes plugged in, we were ready to —- well – ready to go to sleep! Sleep we did until dinner upstairs at 7 with our neighbors.   (Vegetable soup, ravioli, baby squash with the flowers stuffed with ricotta cheese, and homemade applesauce – wine, bread, and cheese. Yum!) Delightful, fun, and welcoming.

The next day, young friends from the U.S. came for lunch — energetic, smart, and ready to explore. They, too, had just arrived in Paris, but were already doing things we’ve never thought of doing – such as going swimming in the big (very big) pool at Les Halles.

Errands and small chores are always part of keeping house here, too.  Fortunately, we figured out how to turn off the electric heater in our salle de bains (bathroom) so we don’t need an electrician, and George figured out how to clean the filter (very difficult to access)  on one of our faucets – so we don’t need a plumber!

But — we did need a stamp for a letter to be mailed to a Paris address.  We walked over to the postoffice –a big imposing building where the old post office had a make-over couple of years ago only to find that the postoffice was gone – closed – disappeared!  We were shocked.  A  bookstore owner across the street confirmed that it was indeed gone, but that we could get a stamp from the Tabac located just next door in the corner bistro. I know stamps are available in Tabacs but didn’t know there was one tucked inside this bistro that we pass almost everyday.  I should have gotten the hint since there is a big sign that says, “TABAC” outside.  It is easy to forget simple things that can make life so easy. It is even easier to forget the word for stamp in French: le timbre (Also the name of a restaurant we’re unable to get a reservation at!)

More of what we did: went to the Grand Palais to see photographic exhibition of Irving Penn’s work (Vogue photographer for more than 50 years); had dinner at MaÎtre Albert– located in one of my favorite parts of Paris on the left bank behind Notre Dame; attended our building’s party; and, shopped at our street market which gets set up here every Thursday and Saturday.

Sunrise as seen from our plane en route to France from Iceland.

Don’t you love him?  A wine cork left by our neighbors to greet us.  Our sweet fisherman who has had one too many.

After lunch and some wine, we’re a jovial group

Saturday open market — shop to your heart’s content.

Bread and more bread.

Laden with goodies,  heading home for lunch. Note the Eiffel Tower in the background.

Cooking eggplant — very sweet and delicious. (That’s after I burned a hot plate on the stove the night before.  Don’t ask how– but I did it! 

Some of our neighbors –partying with families, babies and all.

How could I miss this TABAC sign all these years?

Notre Dame –lit up at night.  We walked past on our way to dinner