i miss paris. even when i'm there. like an indescribable longing for something that i already have.
i've made it back stateside. i'm sprinkled across thousands of miles and i don't know where i live anymore. but i will always find it comforting to know that paris has become a familiar face, a favorite sibling, my first love. i never feel like a tourist. ny is my long distance sister that i never tire seeing and must hug every season (except for those disgusting summer months. eww.). san diego is where the smiles i adore, smile at me. i am lucky. and i know it.
in between my studies and sandy morning walks in the pacific, i will find time to freeze san diego. my san diego.
until then, the last several weeks are here: photos
i have a mighty grip on my last days (for a while) in france. with a plethora of friends passing through to inhale the french air and sip the petite cups of espresso on afternoons created for the gods, my level of joy is ineffable. the camera has been put to sleep for fear of risking the taste of moments for my obsession with freezing them. ni, one of this grand earth's greatest, arrives on friday for a dash of the french open and printemps in the city.
treasured treats. the forest's morning scent. all things navy. white on white. the sunny side of the street (for very short periods of time, bien sur). markets spilling over with the fashionable's search for local. frozen grapes and grapefruit. attempting to work a french keyboard (oopala!). manu's apartment. toile de jouy. iced lemon water. picnics on the seine. deep sleep. french poetry. alex's obsession with befriending insects and creating tupperware homes for them. paris. paris. paris. paris. paris. caramel salt macarons from laduree. pandora's ability to start dance parties at any moment. love. paris. paris. open windows. natural light. frozen yogurt. badoit water. extended new york lay-overs. dreams of returning. lost photo album.
While the winds may have been a few degrees less than ideal, the love of friendship was warm. like vin chaud on a winter evening. and so i was treated with the smiles of soy and m&m. in paris. with me. aching feet and fresh crepes. familiarity. and a touristy tour guide turned friend named manu. photos.
the sun is like a large bienvenue sign in paris. the streets fill up with legs. a venti coffee cup. i wonder where they’ve been hiding all winter. clogging their flats with smoke, perhaps. millions of pursed lips around cigarettes. a terrible vice, a worse scent, but still they look so darn chic. and so now that the cold is making its exit, the frenchies (and tourists alike) make their entrance. and with my camera, I follow.
in three months i won’t be able to hop the ELBA to the city at my discretion. a terribly depressing thought. but until then, the state of bliss continues... as does the photo taker machine thing.
pointy flats. versailles. fromage frais. time. the silence of the rodin garden --- like a hideaway in the center of chaos. small bookstores overflowing with pages. jay z’s empire state of mind. movie marathons. improbable love stories. men in hats. eating obscene amounts of broccoli. window shopping. having conversations with myself (in my head). watching people react to intense wind gusts. chloe/zac posen/derek lam. theory’s spring collection. mail (the real kind). the war against old age. comprehension. rekindled everything. the distinct scent of paris. refilling water bottles. daily bbm-ing with db1. telling gypsies to bugger off. jackets of moss around every forest tree. back up ipods. languages. swings. hot towels. subway musicians. the marais and the latin quarter.
foggy forests and fresh air make monday mornings worth waking up extra early for.
On my search for a red door for ca, i found people. album here: photos.
saturday mornings. fiona apple's why try to change me now. damon's quotable life philosophies. venting with sara over coffee before class. specialty boutiques that bring to life what i imagine old new york and paris to be. red umbrellas. adding minutes of light to the day. alex counting to 10 in english. baby estelle's proud "voila!" which sounds like wala. making ugly postcards (but with love). writing the word french. the kind gentleman at the post office. taking my camera out of hiding.
three weeks stateside, fancy new tea, and two longchamps bags later, i’m back to all things french... and paris never looked so lovely: effortlessly elegant, quaint yet grandeur, kind but cold, poetically cliché in the most wonderful way. and. there is snow neatly sitting on branches and snuggling the forest floor in jouy. merci, la france.
mid-january & christmas remains in paris. the chestnuts are still roasting, twinkle lights line trees, and windows are dressed up in holiday cheer. the kids enjoyed their presents and the quotidian snowball fights are a treasure. yes, please.
winter - i’ve only fallen down a few icy stairs (it’s slippery! i’m from california, leave me alone.) and had roughly 148.2 close calls (loafers are not for snow. lesson one.). this will be a darling winter if i can keep my bones intact and the bruising to a minimum (not likely. it's way too fun.).
pictures of a white france soon, but for now, some shots from new york during my attempt at frostbite evasion. photos.
sunday morning. after another saturday of paris delight, christmas markets, and general merriment…heaven fell. with the tea kettle whistling and breakfast sizzling on the stove, whilst in mid morning-play-list-on-high-dance-about-my-flat-in-my-pajamas turn, i glanced outside…and there it was.