Last night I came across the most beautiful letter from Ansel Adams on the amazing site Letters of Note.
"Art is both love and friendship, and understanding; the desire to give. It is not charity, which is the giving of Things, it is more than kindness which is the giving of self. It is both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit. It is the recreation on another plane of the realities of the world; the tragic and wonderful realities of earth and men, and of all the inter-relations of these."
Do yourself a favor and read the letter and its entirety, and perhaps spend the rest of your day perusing, at Letters Of Note.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Des Reunions
Last week I met up with my friend Rafael, whom I met in New York many moons ago. It was strange to see him in his hometown, and to walk the streets in search of a café and to happen upon this view, instead of sitting on the PS roof and looking at the Empire State Building.
And find a café we did. You might recognize the colorful café in the background from an earlier (also first-week) post.
I ordered something with eggs (des oeufs) and ended up with something with eggs AND mussels. Whoops! It was still good.
And that evening I joined Viviane et les enfants for dinner. I gave the boys some lollipops from Arizona (with real scorpions inside!!). My favorite part of this photo is that Clément is wearing a proper suit, with even a tie, as he decided to dress up very special for my return to the apartment. He was quite gentlemanly indeed, and reminded me of his father coming home from work - a bit disheveled but still proper.
They enjoyed the lollipops, I think, and kept saying, "Il pique!" ("It stings!")
I see that really, for these boys, some things haven't changed.
Viviane cooked for us a wonderful meal of Thai rice, and she gave me a gift too - this dress. I thought perhaps it may be a bit big on me but non - c'était parfait. How this woman can choose dresses perfectly for a young lady who has to try on 15 dresses at H&M to find one that fits, well, it's beyond my comprehension. Absolutely adorable!!
And find a café we did. You might recognize the colorful café in the background from an earlier (also first-week) post.
I ordered something with eggs (des oeufs) and ended up with something with eggs AND mussels. Whoops! It was still good.
And that evening I joined Viviane et les enfants for dinner. I gave the boys some lollipops from Arizona (with real scorpions inside!!). My favorite part of this photo is that Clément is wearing a proper suit, with even a tie, as he decided to dress up very special for my return to the apartment. He was quite gentlemanly indeed, and reminded me of his father coming home from work - a bit disheveled but still proper.
They enjoyed the lollipops, I think, and kept saying, "Il pique!" ("It stings!")
I see that really, for these boys, some things haven't changed.
Viviane cooked for us a wonderful meal of Thai rice, and she gave me a gift too - this dress. I thought perhaps it may be a bit big on me but non - c'était parfait. How this woman can choose dresses perfectly for a young lady who has to try on 15 dresses at H&M to find one that fits, well, it's beyond my comprehension. Absolutely adorable!!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Ma Première Galette des Rois
La Galette des Rois (The King's Cake) is a tradition in France that's usually served around the Epiphany.
I had read about this cake and its tradition from a few Americans, and always wanted to try it. So when Nico and I saw one in Monoprix, he said, "Ah! I will be right back and find one." And he dashed out of the store for a few minutes (off to the boulangerie) and returned with a little galette for us to share for dessert.
The tradition holds that a little figurine be baked into the cake, usually a baby Jesus but there can also be animals or other creatures, and whomever gets the piece containing the figurine gets to be king for a day and choose his queen (or vice versa for the ladies). It was pretty obvious we'd both be royalty in our apartment.
The tradition also says that the cake (sort of like a fluffy almond pastry, absolutely delish) is served among the guests of the house and leaves one piece for the next poor person to approach the home. We just cut ours in half.
Nico saw his fate as King as soon as he picked up his half.
As luck would have it, I got to be queen.
I had read about this cake and its tradition from a few Americans, and always wanted to try it. So when Nico and I saw one in Monoprix, he said, "Ah! I will be right back and find one." And he dashed out of the store for a few minutes (off to the boulangerie) and returned with a little galette for us to share for dessert.
The tradition holds that a little figurine be baked into the cake, usually a baby Jesus but there can also be animals or other creatures, and whomever gets the piece containing the figurine gets to be king for a day and choose his queen (or vice versa for the ladies). It was pretty obvious we'd both be royalty in our apartment.
The tradition also says that the cake (sort of like a fluffy almond pastry, absolutely delish) is served among the guests of the house and leaves one piece for the next poor person to approach the home. We just cut ours in half.
Nico saw his fate as King as soon as he picked up his half.
As luck would have it, I got to be queen.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Dans Le Quartier
Some snaps of my neighborhood and the surrounding Montmartre...
Just down there is my street.
"On Earth As In Heaven" wedding dress shop, whose window says, "Creating wedding dresses and dreams":
I loved sitting at this little outdoor wine bar and having a coffee, writing postcards and listening to the sloped Montmartre street passing me by, scooters and bicycles and chastising fathers walking past.
But eventually the cold pushed me inside, where I was the only soul besides the waiter, from whom I accidentally ordered a plate of meat. Just... meat.
(Not the first time that's happened. The first night I was in Italy 10 years ago I enthusiastically ordered some random thing on the menu, saying to my friends, "I have no idea what I just ordered, I just hope it's not, like, a plate of raw meat or something!" Which is exactly what it was... I think perhaps carpaccio. But the joke's on Young Jenna - now I absolutely adore carpaccio.)
Just down there is my street.
"On Earth As In Heaven" wedding dress shop, whose window says, "Creating wedding dresses and dreams":
I loved sitting at this little outdoor wine bar and having a coffee, writing postcards and listening to the sloped Montmartre street passing me by, scooters and bicycles and chastising fathers walking past.
But eventually the cold pushed me inside, where I was the only soul besides the waiter, from whom I accidentally ordered a plate of meat. Just... meat.
(Not the first time that's happened. The first night I was in Italy 10 years ago I enthusiastically ordered some random thing on the menu, saying to my friends, "I have no idea what I just ordered, I just hope it's not, like, a plate of raw meat or something!" Which is exactly what it was... I think perhaps carpaccio. But the joke's on Young Jenna - now I absolutely adore carpaccio.)
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Et Encore
Life often seems to me like blind groping against a wall you push forward and forward and forward. From time to time, your hand pushes a stone that falls away and then there is an opening - like a secret door you've just discovered. In those moments, life is open. Recognizing the feel of those falling stones and jumping through to the next thing can really make things interesting. For example, last Tuesday night my life looked like this:
And just a few hours (plus a year and a half of planning) later, it looked like this:
Free. Jumping through.
I arrived in Paris early in the morning and though I couldn't see the Eiffel Tower because of the rain, no wet sky could bring me down. Everything looked beautiful in this light.
Even ads.
Even traffic!
I arrived at my new roommate's home and he promptly took me and my low blood sugar to a boulangerie to retrieve some pain au chocolat to have with our coffees. Voilà, my first meal in France (the second time around)!
YES. After a long day of getting settled in and napping, I found myself at the home of my wonderful friend Elsa, who was throwing me a dinner party. A welcoming party! I felt rather special.
Her apartment is absolutely gorgeous.
And she has this bulletin board of loves above her piano (yes, piano). Favorite musicians, postcards from New York, favorite artists, photos of her parents in their youth... I love Elsa's spirit: both delicate and strong, a real Parisienne.
Before long, Nicolas showed up and began the preparation of our Indian feast. Having traveled to India quite a bit, Nicolas knew what he was doing.
And he put us to work!
Charlotte and her boyfriend arrived, and while the men tended to the kitchen, Elsa and Charlotte shared some gossip (or what I believe to be gossip, from this photo).
Among conversation (in French and English) we all pitched in to help with dinner.
(I punched some dough. It was therapeutic.)
Oh, did I mention the wine? Muscat Sec here - lovely.
Elsa's sweet and well-behaved pup Rillette even contributed to our meal...
... in adorableness only, of course.
"Cheers!" "À santé!" "Cin-cin!"
J'aime Elsa.
Finally, after a champagne toast (to the new year, to Paris, to New York, to Elsa and me and these lovely people), it was time for our meal. I'm hungry again just looking at it.
It was the first meal I've sat on the floor and eaten with my hands for. But this is the way, so... when in France, do as the Indians do?
We had a long night of good conversation, laughter, wine, and food.
(I'm learning to put my camera in the center of the room once in awhile, otherwise I'll never have another photo of myself).
A rather grand welcome, I have to say. An elegant chasing those fallen stones.
*jenna*
And just a few hours (plus a year and a half of planning) later, it looked like this:
Free. Jumping through.
I arrived in Paris early in the morning and though I couldn't see the Eiffel Tower because of the rain, no wet sky could bring me down. Everything looked beautiful in this light.
Even ads.
Even traffic!
I arrived at my new roommate's home and he promptly took me and my low blood sugar to a boulangerie to retrieve some pain au chocolat to have with our coffees. Voilà, my first meal in France (the second time around)!
YES. After a long day of getting settled in and napping, I found myself at the home of my wonderful friend Elsa, who was throwing me a dinner party. A welcoming party! I felt rather special.
Her apartment is absolutely gorgeous.
And she has this bulletin board of loves above her piano (yes, piano). Favorite musicians, postcards from New York, favorite artists, photos of her parents in their youth... I love Elsa's spirit: both delicate and strong, a real Parisienne.
Before long, Nicolas showed up and began the preparation of our Indian feast. Having traveled to India quite a bit, Nicolas knew what he was doing.
And he put us to work!
Charlotte and her boyfriend arrived, and while the men tended to the kitchen, Elsa and Charlotte shared some gossip (or what I believe to be gossip, from this photo).
Among conversation (in French and English) we all pitched in to help with dinner.
(I punched some dough. It was therapeutic.)
Oh, did I mention the wine? Muscat Sec here - lovely.
Elsa's sweet and well-behaved pup Rillette even contributed to our meal...
... in adorableness only, of course.
"Cheers!" "À santé!" "Cin-cin!"
J'aime Elsa.
Finally, after a champagne toast (to the new year, to Paris, to New York, to Elsa and me and these lovely people), it was time for our meal. I'm hungry again just looking at it.
It was the first meal I've sat on the floor and eaten with my hands for. But this is the way, so... when in France, do as the Indians do?
We had a long night of good conversation, laughter, wine, and food.
(I'm learning to put my camera in the center of the room once in awhile, otherwise I'll never have another photo of myself).
A rather grand welcome, I have to say. An elegant chasing those fallen stones.
*jenna*
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