Paris Diaries

May 15, 2024

I woke up to a sliver of light escaping the mauve curtains under the red and white duvet. It was just before eight and the first thought I had was - I’m in Paris! On the street below, they were setting up a farmer’s market, one man directing vendors. Bicyclists and cars passed by. I’m so looking forward to today’s adventures, especially since I’m rested today. The apartment is snug, old and beautiful. I missed the front door the first time I tried to find the address. The street reminds me of one on Telegraph Street in Berkley, another one of my favorite areas. The apartment building is tucked between businesses, an old narrow building in Belleville. It took me 2.5 hours to get here from the airport, due to some issues navigating the metro system. When I entered the apartment building, I was reminded of Tom Ripley’s apartment in Rome and Emily in Paris, the long spiral wooden staircase that goes on forever. Each floor had two apartments. Angelica greeted me at the door, her black and white cat, Hitchcock right on her tail. Angelica and I got along right away despite the language barrier, both apologizing for each other’s inadequate knowledge of the other’s native tongue. She showed me around the apartment. She said the tight kitchen was typical for a Paris apartment. The bathroom and toilet were split. She referred to the living room as the salon. I settled into my room right away, transitioning out of the suitcase life and hanging up my clothes. I freshened up and went for a walk around the neighborhood. There were so many cafes; couples and friends drinking, eating, smoking, laughing, pontificating, all faced out towards the street. I am in love with everything.

I just ventured out to Le Marais. My first stop is coffee. I ordered un cafe du lait de soja (soy latte) at a cafe called “La Favorite Saint-Paul”. C’est parfait. It’s different from what I’m accustomed to - perhaps milkier? But not weak at all. It’s still a shock to see just how many people smoke here. At cafes, standing outside store fronts, chatting with a friend or lover. Women with strollers, bikers, young and old carry a cigarette in their hand. I’m training myself to read the signs here and navigate the narrow sometimes chaotic streets like the Parisians who don’t seem to get flustered about anything. I’m trying to speak as much French as I can while over here. I rehearse phrases in my head before uttering them out loud. The nice Parisians will simply smile and patiently suggest a more suitable word or pronunciation. Others, like the woman at the metro station, laughed at me, mocking my missteps. It does feel like Americans are viewed as these loud, stupid buffoons who are ignorant of the language and clueless to the simple ways of life over here. Still. A simple exchange with a stranger, a “Bonjour, ca va” paired with a smile, carries so much more weight than the every day niceties back home.

I’m mesmerized by the old architecture and narrow cobblestone streets. There are so many tiny shops crammed next to one another and many cafes with only one or two customers occupying the outdoor tables. Everything feels slowed down except for the action on the road. Today I’m choosing to adapt more to the Parisian state of mind. To walk, to sit at a cafe, to take my time here.

May 16, 2024

Yesterday was such a blast. I decided early on I would go everywhere by foot. There were destinations I intentionally chose and mapped out and others I stumbled upon by accident, such as a vintage shop in the Le Marais neighborhood. All the people in the shop were so kind. A beautiful mustard knit cardigan caught my eye and the woman in an oversized jean jacket encouraged me to try it on, calling it “tres jolie”. Then the store owner, asked to take a look and called it magnificent and something about the season colors. He asked if the price was expensive, I said a bit. He lowered it by 20 euros with a wink. I went for it. I had been on my way to “Passage Dore” to check out Louise Damas’ jewelry which I had been an admirer of for awhile. Like most shops in Paris, it was narrow, intimate and enchanting. I was on a mission for gold hoop earrings and right away, I saw the pair. They were thick, gold, imperfectly shaped and creased which made them even more beautiful since they were handmade. After that, I set out for lunch at Hank’s Burger, a vegan burger joint. I had the best burger of my life, the “Le Champetre”. It came with Parisian mushrooms, carmelized onions, arugula, cheese, a creamy white sauce and bacon. Tres bien! My appetite has returned in Paris, from all the walking and energy exerted trying to understand the language and communicate with the locals but especially since the food is so good.

I stopped by Parc des Buttes, a gorgeous park which slopes down to a body of water with content ducks swimming about and a towering island mound that resembles something medieval. Towering trees shade the park. I read “A Sport and a Pastime” on the grass while spying on the other park occupants. A father and child cycled in. They parked themselves on the grass, she ate a pastry and watched the ducks, he hung back and smoked. A couple arrived with a blanket. She was pregnant, he was lean. They snacked on fruit and chatted, on their sides, facing one another. It was very sweet to witness. Eventually he pulled out a cigarette, they always do. There were children playing on the swing set, dog owners strolled by. I’ve mostly noticed French bulldogs.

I’m learning to cross the street like the Parisians do. Pedestrians don’t wait for the light to cross. They cross when they see an opening. There are a lot of bikers, riding in the bike lane, sidewalk, crossing plazas. There are no yellow lights over here, just a white man and a red man. I’ve noticed several near collisions between bicyclists and pedestrians who cross when they want regardless of an approaching biker ringing their bell indignantly. A woman who was nearly hit, continued on her way, unfazed. I have yet to witness an accident, is everyone simply in sync in all the chaos?

After the park, I went home, charged my phone, freshened up. When I went out, it had started to drizzle. That’s Paris weather, warm and sunny one moment and I’m removing my sweater then a cloud passes over, it gets chilly then start raining. I stopped by “L’as du Falafel” for dinner. I exchanged 10 euros for a loaded falafel wrap. I wandered down the street and found a spacious courtyard. I ate my wrap with the pigeons as company.

May 17, 2024

This trip has done wonders to revive me and fuel my curiosity and sense of purpose. I had plans to meet up with my friend, Sophia and her family for lunch so first I picked out a cafe in the area to get a bit of writing and reading in by Opera Bastille. I tried a cappuccino which was presented with a dusting of cocoa powder and was one of the best coffees I’ve ever had. I’ve been enjoying “A Sport and a Pastime” and marvel how it was the perfect companion for me on this trip. The author and I are both outsiders, dwelling in Paris, taking notes. It takes an outsider to appreciate certain details. It’s cool that not a whole lot of the lifestyle and mannerism have changed since this book was published in the ‘60s.

I met up with my friends at 12:30, happily putting away my phone and letting them take the lead. We lunched at “Aujordui Demain”, a hip vegan restaurant, tucked away, a hidden gem. We all ordered the shrimp, fish and peas plate. The potatoes were my favorite part, perfectly crisp and juicy on the inside. They could melt in my mouth. Afterwards, we went on a “digestive walk” as Dominique, the mother, put it. We crossed the river, window shopped and hung out at the iconic spot, Hotel D’Nord which had been featured in several French films. The bartender gave us the story behind the spot and the drive to restore it to its former glory back in the ‘90s. They now had jazz nights, flapper style. We hung outside and glasses of white wine and chatted, no place to be for a few hours. I could get used to this. When I asked Sophia what she missed most about Paris she gestured to the table saying “this.” It was the ability to walk everywhere, the pace of life. She asked me what I thought of the way the Parisians dressed, was it what I expected? I replied saying I felt more at home with how the Parisians dressed, it was functional, simple, less trendy than L.A. style. Eventually I left the group, setting off on foot for the bookstore, Shakespeare & Company, a 45 minute walk away. I love walking in Paris. I passed several exquisite churches and archways, pausing to soak in their grandeur. I crossed a grand bridge, the water sparkled, I was nearly knocked over by the beauty. I arrived in the Latin Quarters and joined the queue outside the book shop. Most of the attendees were either American or British. It was startling hearing so much English spoken in once space after being surrounded by only French speakers the past few days. I was lead up front to one of the reserved chairs. When Sheila Heti entered the room, I could tell she was nervous. As she settled in her chair, she looked up and caught my eye. We smiled at each other - a moment that lasted only a few seconds but carried so much weight for me. I’ve been such an admirer of her work, chiefly her brilliant book, Motherhood. It was such an honor to be there that evening in honor of her newest book, Alphabetical Diaries. It was a lovely, honest conversation. Sheila shared how writing this book ruined her diary keeping practice. She learned a lot about herself through studying years of diary keeping and left with the takeaway that we are small and ruminate the same questions in different ways. For her the questions were as follows: I hate him (the guy she was dating), should she moved from Toronto to LA or NYC, and lots of discussion about art and writing. She wrote only about her interior experiences but she wished she had written about what other people said instead. I picked up a copy of How Should a Person Be? and joined the signing queue. I was the last in line. Sheila told me it was wonderful to meet me in person after our moment. I flushed at this. I told her how much Motherhood had meant to me, it was unlike anything I had ever read and made me feel less alone in my own wants and desires. She told me she didn't regret anything. I urged her to drop by Book Soup when she was in the L.A. area again. She wrote down Book Soup and shook my hand. I left the shop, floating on Cloud 9. I rounded the corner and dropped by an intimate Crepery. I ordered a cheese crepe, my first consumption of cheese in over nine years. I didn’t feel ill at all. I walked back to the apartment with a skip to my step, feeling rejuvenated in purpose. I’m an artist I sung out.

May 18, 2024

Yesterday I walked to Montmartre, up several sets of stairs and more uphill hiking and arrived at an elaborate castle of a church. Tucked behind was a gorgeous, lively village. I roamed, admired the painters and sketch artists at work. There were talented street musicians at each corner; an older smiling man singing traditional French music, a younger man strumming a guitar by the steep staircase overlooking the city, and a French clad man in stripes and a beret playing “La Vie En Rose” on his accordion, a black cat chilling on top. It was utterly charming. I settled down at a cafe, Chez Plume, a peaceful spot tucked around the corner from the artists’ square. I was annoyed by the older American women who disrupted the tranquil environment with their tedious, repetitive conversation that went like: “We meet them at 1:30. It’s 11:30 now. After this, we go back to the hotel, then we got the shops. I guess we’ll have to walk some more.” They seemed so bored and made zero effort to try and speak French with the server. Their voices sounded jarring and loud. Hearing these women made me grateful to be on this trip as a young woman, full of energy, passion and drive and an eagerness to walk Paris by foot. Imagine waiting to explore this as an old woman! After coffee, I wandered down the streets. Tourists lingered in front of the majestic church and wall of love locks, taking pictures. Montmartre is one of my favorite parts of Paris so far. I stumbled in a vintage shop, small and messy. The man working there spoke good English and was eager to help. I told him I was on a mission for a good coat. He showed me a lovely ‘80s red bomber jacket which had recently arrived in his possession. I tried it on, it was different from what I normally gravitate towards but so cool. I debated on whether or not to buy it. It cost 130 euro. I asked about jean jackets. He showed me a rack of all jean jackets and immediately one caught my eye. It was the perfect oversized jean jacket. He showed me the most beautiful tweed oversized coat saying he always thought it would end up with a man. It was big with wide shoulders but utterly elegant. I was transfixed with it. He offered a deal if I bought both jackets, I sprung for it. I wore the jean jacket right away. Then I met up with the girls at the train station and we resumed roaming together. We had tea at the museum, La Halle Saint Pierre and checked out the book shop. We stopped at Pain Pain so I could have my first butter croissant. It was heavenly, crispy and melted in my mouth. They waited as I devoured every morsel, before resuming the tour. Sophia acted as my tour guide, sharing her wealth of Parisian knowledge with Ornella and Dominique chiming in here and there. I love observing twins. Sophia’s purposeful, direct personality compliments Ornella’s softer, dreamier personality. She confessed getting lost on her own street. Sofia was eager to show me the Passages around Paris. They’re elegant indoor streets that resemble train stations, lined with boutique shops. Sophia had her wedding reception in one of the passages, complete with a grapefruit, chocolate orange cake she ordered at one of the Patisseries and stayed at one of the tiny hotels. They pointed out one of the neighborhoods where Dominique had worked for 20 years and Sophia for 5. The building had been torn down and replaced with an apartment complex. There were so many old, historic gorgeous buildings but Paris too was not immune to commercialism. They showed me the Grand Prix movie theater before we parted ways. I passed through a grand archway and stopped at a Lebanese sandwich shop for dinner. My phone was nearly dead, an issue I am constantly running into. It died before I made it back home but thankfully I was familiar enough with the district to know my way back.

Now it was time to experience some jazz. I set out for Cadeux de la Huchette in the Latin Quarter. It was an hour long way and well worth it. I arrived to a long line waiting to be admitted in. Upon entering, I descended a winding staircase to where the magic took place in a cave like space, packed to capacity. The band cast a spell on all of us. People still managed to dance despite it being so crowded. An older Parisian asked me to dance. We did some swing dancing and I had a grand time. The band played a few covers from La La Land. By the end of the night, I managed to make it to the foot of the stage. I stayed until close to midnight then walked home.

May 19, 2024

I’ve never been so grounded in the present, cherishing every moment, every day. My first mistake in Paris was going to the Louvre before coffee. I was exhausted and dragging along as I took in the gorgeous paintings - my favorite floor by far! I preferred the paintings done by the French artists over the Italian ones. I especially loved Jean-Baptiste Camille Cordot’s paintings. I thought he captured women so well on the canvas - they had personality and expression. They felt alive. I knew these women. I wandered about for two hours then departed for food and coffee. I sought out “Land & Monkeys”, an all vegan boulangerie. I ordered the lunch special: butternut squash quiche, pear tart and an oat milk latte. I charged my dying phone, it’s perpetually dying since I rely so heavily on the maps app. I ate, read, recouped. I messaged Y, the Frenchman I met on Hinge a few months back. We had said we would meet up today, details undecided. While I waited for said details, I wandered down to Saint-Lazarre station, on the hunt for the perfect lipstick. Ornella had a pink nude from Kikos Milan that I wanted. I picked up an issue of Elle to practice reading French. It cost 2.8 euros! This would cost $15 back home! Y arrived and we decided to head to the Eiffel Tower. On the train ride, he shared his love for trains. He’s an engineer. I asked how he liked to spend his weekends. He replied saying he enjoyed exploring and making the most of living in Paris. The Eiffel Tower was massive up close. I studied the ornate details in wonder and asked Y to take a picture of me in front of it. He took some epic photos.

I walked along the Seine, making note of the dessert crepe vendors. Remembering the hysterical laughter brought up on my dripping sugary crepe of my youth. I saved my euros, cherishing the memory instead. I ventured out to the Madeleine station, feeling like a superstar, my name was posted everywhere! This was my corner in the world. I stayed in that night, enjoying leftovers and watching the French Voice with Angelica and Hitchcock. We commiserated about the dating apps and how hopeless dating was these days.

May 20, 2024

The day began with a late breakfast at my new favorite spot, “Patisserie Vegetal”, an all vegan bakery/cafe. It was a crisp 30 minute walk from the apartment. There was a line out the door, a combination of locals and tourists with their luggage, making one last stop before departing for the airport. I’ll probably be doing the same on Wednesday. I ordered in French, feeling independent and proud. I consumed a chocolate croissant and a soy latte. The perfect start to the day.

I’m now writing this from the train to London. It was a mad scramble and panicked moments of not knowing which direction to head when I arrived at the Gard du Nord Station. I boarded the train with three minutes to spare. No matter how much I try to anticipate issues, I can’t escape it all - I don’t know if I want to either. I don’t want a careful life, rather a bold, adventurous, colorful, exciting life.

After breakfast, I walked to the Cimetiere de Here Lachaise and wandered around the graves. I sat by Oscar Wilde’s grave for awhile, the inscription in the back read: “And alien tears will fill for him, pity is long broken urn, for his mourners will be outcast men and outcasts always mourn.” I felt both heavy and inspired. There were cats hanging on the slabs, in the weeds, watching, protectors of the dead. I found a tomb of a boy who was born the same year as me, dead at 17. His mother had been buried beside him, 7 years later. It’s so hard to carry on as the dead’s leftovers. I got caught up in rain and took refuge at the train station. I met up with Sophia and we took the train to a suburb outside of Paris to spend the evening at Dominique’s house. Ornella picked us up from the station, navigating the narrow streets of the small sleepy town like a pro. Much was closed that day since it was a religious holiday weekend. The locals had Monday off as well. Ornella prepared crepes for our afternoon tea. I’ve claimed Ornella and Sophia as my French sisters, the older sisters I never had. I love watching the family interact in French before they turn to me with the English translations. Sophia has been very validating and supportive of my attempts to speak French. Like a small child, I glow under her praise. I want very much to converse and understand everything. We sat out on the patio and had a leisurely time enjoying the dessert crepes and mint tea and Prosecco. Dominique sent me the 48 photos she had taken on her phone over our past few days together. The girls groaned every time she stopped to take a photo but I was grateful for the catalog of memories captured. Tuesday will be our last night together before I return to LA on Wednesday. They dropped me off at the train station and I navigated the metro system home. I’m getting the hang of it. I caught a movie at the MJ2 Beauvory Cinema. It was a new French comedy with no subtitles, “Le Deuxieme Acts”. I was going for the full French experience. The audience cackled, I was hopelessly lost. I tried to follow along but everyone spoke too fast so I resorted to studying body language, mannerisms, dress and intonations of voice. The audience laughed hysterically every time the actor Raphael Quenard said anything on screen. Overall, an enjoyable experience.

I headed to Cafe Cherie, people spilled out into the street and inside they danced. This was the local hot spot after midnight. Y was outside in a corner with his American friend, Dave from Texas. Dave had been living in Paris for 19 years and said the hardest part was adapting to the culture and learning the language. He was planning on staying in Paris as long as he was happy there. Y didn’t say much, he hung back with his beer and listened as Dave and I chatted. A guy from Morocco butted in, chatting about a little bit of everything; the free food after Sunday service, holidays, ties to Africa. He was very funny, loud and extra. After he left, Y said that’s what everyone does outside of Paris, talk to everyone. It was getting late and I was feeling delirious and wound up. I had an early train to catch in the morning, I loved looking forward to every single day while I was overseas. Y and I went for a walk and I asked him how he defined a happy life. He replied for him that meant finding calm, enjoying drinks with friends, and being surrounded by people who accepted him. To him, the key was to embrace living in the present tense. We parted ways around 2 am with a well, see you.

May 22, 2024

I woke up in Paris for the last time - I fly out this afternoon. The sadness swept in last night as I was roaming the streets with my favorite Parisian friends. They gave me the perfect send off. We met up for dinner at “Bouillon Chartier,” a classic French restaurant that has been around since 1896. There are only a few locations left in Paris. Every detail, including the corridor leading up to the restaurant, was magnificent. Black iron gates with the daily specials, a grand archway, tiled floors, warm lights above. The restaurant itself had a wide open feel - like an upscale cafeteria with gorgeous painted walls, details from a past world. It was crowded and lively. We sat towards the back on the ground floor which Sophia was excited about as opposed to upstairs which she said gets noisy. Les Toilettes were downstairs. I like that detail of these Parisian eateries. The table was long and connected to the other party’s table on the other side of the bag rack. Ornella, Sophia and I ordered a bunch of small plates and appetizers that were vegetarian. The server wrote our order on the table cloth and walked away, our requests already committed to memory. Astounding. I had mushrooms, green beans, marinated carrots and French fries. Dimitri helped me finish my food. We shared a bottle of red and left room for dessert. I tried the Baba Rum, a cake soaked in rum with a side of whipped cream. Heavenly. When we split the tab at the end, we owed 18 euros each. Surprising affordable for such a nice restaurant. When we left it was just after 9 pm but the sky was still blue. I walked them to the Saint-Lazarre Station one last time. Sophia told me she could see me living here. I could too. They asked me what I thought of Paris after spending a week there. I said I loved it very much, that it was a beautiful city with special energy. I loved that I could walk and take public transportation everywhere. There was so much to see and I gelt that I got a good taste but still wanted to see more. I had the most magical time and wanted to return. It’s a city where I felt a strong sense of belonging. It matched my spirit and preferred lifestyle. I hoped to bring back this sense of relishing life, slowing down and appreciate the present moment.