Diary of an adult runaway

Small/cool + not-so-small/extremely cool

Ever since living in a 375-foot apartment, I've been hooked on Apartment Therapy's annual Small/Cool contest, garnering ideas on how to best trick out my place. Even though now I'm living in an apartment with a living room that's almost the same size of my place in Paris, I still love pouring over entries--and I still get jealous, because how is it that even the smalled apartments in the US seem to have decent kitchens, while I had a bar fridge and one of those toaster oven things with hotplates on top? (OTOH, I had a balcony with the best view of the city you'd ever get. Seriously.)

Here are a few of my faves from this year's entries:

What a stunning view!

A completely different view but once again I love it~plus there's something about the light that reminds me of my friend Lisa's place in NYC.

This place in Sausalito ranks right up there on the awesomeness scales, and reminds me of a houseboat--which reminded me that I had photos I hadn't shared of my last night in Paris, when Pamela and her husband invited Sophie, Jenny and I to dine on a converted barge on the Seine, near the Bois de Boulogne.

We arrived at the boat on a gloriously balmy late-spring evening and were greeted by a colorful entry way:

I instantly fell in love with the interior, which was a lot bigger than I'd pictured:

Books books books :)

At the opposite end of the top floor was a big office area:

And in between was a good sized kitchen:

We ate dinner out on the deck, of course:

The biggest surprise was the workshop, below where we'd been eating and the opposite end of the bedrooms:

Of course, the best part was spending those precious few final hours with my Paris soul sisters, Sophie and Jenny (and Pamela, whose photo I can't believe I didn't take that night):

What a perfect night it was. Thank you :)

For anyone who's ever had to had to battle the Paris commute...

you'll know this isn't too far from the truth...

A storm brewing

Last night at 7.45:

On a brighter note...

Some shots from around the hood:

A shop down the street that always does beautiful displays...and the orange set will only cost 690E!

Pylones is always fun to wander by

At Pigalle. Dancers, or just girls out for fun--or both?

The décor at Alice Pizza (4, rue Dancourt, 75018) may be black and white but the pizza POPS in your mouth--and you can always get some color with the huge, fresh strawberry mojito. I took the Fantasia pizza and there wasn't a scrap left. Great pizza, great waiters, great location.

Left or right? You decide

I read this interesting article (thanks, Sandy!) and agree with many of the points, but disagree strongly with one. I agree that many people stick to the left or the right and that I am most definitely a Right-banker and could happily go years without crossing the Seine, if it weren't for pesky visitors making me visit them over in St. Germain.

Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. There's nothing wrong with the Left Bank, it's very, very pretty and has some very cool things, including the Orsay, my 2nd favorite museum (my favorite is the Carnavalet in the Marais). It's just that the Right Bank is where I feel more at home. We'll forget the 16th, I think of that more as a city to itself than part of Paris. I'm talking about Bastille and Batignolles and Bercy Village, hidden squares in the 9th, the Marais and Montmartre, Belleville, the crazy Place de Clichy. I'm also talking about this stunning dragonfly building in the 1st:

It also has my 2 favorite buildings, the end pavillions of the Louvre and the Hotel de Ville:

And how could I forget the Opéra Garnier?:

It's beautiful on a sunny day, even more so at night, but at its most mystical early in the morning when seen from the #32 bus. Then there's the original Ladurée, Angelina's, and other great foodie institutions such as Fauchon and Hediard. Oh, and does the Left Bank have Elvis My Happiness? No. I think not. And in Elvis à Paris, every single photo is of him on the Right Bank. Sure, he went to Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, but he stayed at the Prince de Galles in the 8th, shopped on Avenue George V, partied at the Lido and Moulin Rouge and Folies-Bergère. IOW, Elvis was a Right Banker. Uh-huh, yeah. (I'm sure he'd be dismayed by the Champs-Elysées today, though.)

What I don't agree with: While Montmartre, especially its stone white Sacre-Coeur basilica, is overrun with tourists, the Marais retains a relatively local flavor. Funnily enough, the other day when I was in the Marais, I was thinking "God, all these tourists!" Maybe it's just that I'm so used to it up here and know to avoid the Place du Tertre (except for early morning/very late at night) and take back streets and, especially in summer, go to the other side of the butte, which the tourists don't seem to have discovered and it's shadier and cooler there anyway. To me, Montmartre is--of course!--filled with locals. And they're locals like no other. There's the lady who runs the brothel on Rue des Martyrs who I usually run into while doing laundry, and the very sweet but not-quite-right guy who wears a captain's hat and cape as he tries to sell his repurposed art in cafés. There's the elderly identical twins who cling to each other as they scuttle along the streets. There's the butcher who smiles when he sees me because he knows what I'm going to order (a kilo of turkey mince) and Isabelle, who repeatedly warns me to walk on the other side of one particular street when it's raining because she's afraid I'm going to fall, and Hervé, who calls to me from the other end of the bus and includes everyone in our conversations, and so many others.

So, yeah, no decision to be made. I think it was made for me a long time ago by some unknown force. I am a Right Banker. And damn happy to be so!

I'll let the pictures tell the story

Entrée (soufflé de fois gras):

Plat (tarragon chicken & Henri IV soufflé w/ chicken and mushroom sauce):

Dessert (soufflé Rothschild~candied fruit & kirsch):

Thank you, Ken & Scott, for a delicious meal and charming company. And much love to Helen The Amazing!

If you want to go, here's the details:

Le Soufflé

36, Rue Mont Thabor
75001 Paris, France
+33 1 42 60 27 19

And if you can finish it all, well then, you're a better man than me, Gungadin!

Disturbing the peace...ah-gain!

So we'd been threatening to do this for ages: subject the Parisien populace to our amateur voices. We (3 Australians, 2 Americans and an Irishman) settled on last night as the date. The only question was, where would this event take place? And then I remembered.

9 years ago on the last night of my first trip to Paris, Julie and I had the obligatory bread/cheese/wine picnic dinner alongside the Seine. There we met a Moroccan poetry professor, who invited us to his cousin's resto for some more dessert. He was a very charming man and quite useful: I'd given away the last of my métro tix, assuming I wouldn't use any more, so he showed me the trick to squeezing in behind someone else as they passed through the turnstyles and smiling so they wouldn't mind. His cousin was also very charming, extremely welcoming in that Arabic way by insisting we eat, eat, eat. After the resto (someplace in the 17th, I think~I've never been able to relocate it) closed around midnight, we wandered up past the Moulin Rouge, looking for a good bar. I learned Pigalle is nowhere near as scary as some people seem to think it is. In fact, it's a helluva lot of fun. That's because we found Cafe L'Epoque, a karaoke bar. Other things learned: how to say "up high, down low, to the left, to the right" in French and that the locals are an absolute blast when they let loose.

It only made sense to return to the scene of the crime (plus, it's just down the hill from me, and being essentially lazy...) I'm very happy to report that some things haven't changed. Give them a mike and the locals can be a real hoot. Of course, we had to sit through some terribly dull French songs (what's up with that? Even if it is their country, you'd think they'd choose something with an actual melody, not to mention intonation...) Something new learned, since I didn't have the guts to sing last time: they're also really, really supportive of those who do. They sing along, clap, cheer. The other thing I learned (though I knew some of this from vocal lessons) is that my friends fucking rock!

For your consideration, some photos (though Jenny escaped before I could get any of her):

Pamela smiles while Sophie warms up with some lip exercises

Aidan, probably wondering what he got himself in for, and Pamela

I think this is about the time I was warning Pamela she'd better give me back my damned iPhone or else

Judy (left) getting ready to be a star

Sophie belting out Rehab with her #1 fan

A little video shot by Sophie. My fave part is at the end when she makes the guy laugh (he'd been looking pretty moody up until then) and also captures the guy in the hat, who sang some very dreary songs but was sweetly encouraging of everyone):

So if ever you're in the mood for some karaoke fun, try Cafe L'Epoque, 38 bd de Clichy in the 18th, between Blanche and Pigalle stations. Yes, it's right in the heart of the sex district, but don't worry, no one will hassle you, everyone's just out for a laugh. And finding it :-)

Tea & writing at Ladurée

Part of the reason I've been such a drive-by blogger of late is that it's April, and April in Paris means visitors galore (yay!) Last week (oops, week before last, it's all such a blur) went like this:

• Friday: dinner with Lisa (NYC), Sophie & Armel
• Saturday: shopping then dinner with Lisa & Armel
• Sunday: free classical concert at Eglise Jean de something or other then dinner with Sophie, Lisa & Jenny
• Monday: drinks & shopping with Lisa & Sophie then dinner with Steve (who I haven't seen in the 25 years since we left school ~ I love Facebook!) & Andrea
• Tuesday: drinks then a wander around Montmartre then dinner with Jennifer & Andy (Australia)
• Wednesday: breakfast with Sophie; writing day with Lisa ~ started at Starbucks, progressed to Ladurée then Kusmi Tea; dinner with Lisa & Sophie @ La Fée Verte
• Thursday: shopping & lunch with Steve; dinner with Lisa, Beth & Katie (MD), Gale (D.C.), Alison (Australia), Louise (AZ), Sandy & Bob (IL) and Liz & Allan (UK)
• Dinner: farewell brunch with Lisa @ Ladurée

Lordie! I did manage to squeeze in some writing, thanks to always having my trusty notebook with me. While waiting for Lisa to arrive on Friday, I ordered some violet tea and pulled out the book:

We both ordered a deeeelish black truffle omelette, though should have shared, they were huuuuuge:

Then Lisa left (sob!) and I dealt with my grief by shopping in Ladurée's fabulous store. I bought tea (violet & their house blend, which is really good) and candles (violet, caramel) and a sweet carry bag. I'd already bought violet & rose macarons a few days before so I resisted purchasing délices, but snuck a photo:

Which doesn't do it justice, really. Ladurée knows presentation, that's for sure.

In case you think I'm being a snot in not replying to comments...

...I'm not! For some reason, the post comment button is grayed out--in both Safari and Firefox. So I'm off to see what's happening. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this shot of some graffiti over on Rue Bonaparte in the 6th:

Every picture tells a story

Hard to make out but the gold writing says Ladurée, fabriquant de douceurs. Except, calling Ladurée a sweetmaker is like calling Christian Louboutin a cobbler.

 

Uh-huh, yeah, that's right. 5 gone. Remaining: violet-cassis, rose and mango-jasmine.

Yum.