Saturday, March 5, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Journal- "Les Amants de Paris" Part 3
.... I call my friends to come pick me up and we decide to DRIVE around the city. We had no particular DESTINATION in mind because the city has an ARRAY of restaurants and night activities to choose from. As we circle around, I capture the SCENERY of Paris in lights in my mind, the sight of the CHAMPS ELYSEES gleaming in the dark night, the ARCH DE TRIOMPHE and the ARCH DE LA DEFENCE facing each other in the distant HORIZON. We sit in various restaurants and BRASSERIES tasting the sinful DELICACIES of the local chef's froie gras, smelling the familiarity of cigarette smokes that accompanies so many CONVERSATIONS.
We start to talk about various subjects such as ART, ANTHOLOGY, PHILOSOPHY, POLITICS, MOVIES, LIFE in general and current events. A debate quickly ensues when the topic of laicite or secularism was brought to our ATTENTION. The French law banning students from wearing RELIGIOUS symbols in French public primary and secondary schools was just passed, and many believe it discriminated the Muslim COMMUNITY in the country. "They are asking me to deny WHO I am. I can't get a proper EDUCATION because of what I BELIEVE in. This violates our human RIGHTS," said Nabil. Of Morrocan decent, he is an ADAMANT political ACTIVIST, FERVENT idealist and an ELOQUENT speaker. The sensitive subject matter filled the air with somber THOUGHTS. Julien, the EXTEMPORANEOUS member of the group, stands up, grabs the bottle of wine from our table, drinks it to the last drop and STANDS on a chair. "VIVRE la France et la REVOLUTION!" he shouts out "On y vas!" Soon, we all followed suit, shouting and CHANTING the war songs of the Army of the Rhine; putting ASIDE all petty differences & worries... The night was still YOUNG.
MORNING was just a few hours away, you could almost FEEL the sun's GLARE rising up on the horizon. In the dark corners of every street, we could hear the distant SOUNDS of the VIOLINS playing songs of broken hearts and DREAMS, reciting the stories of distant LANDS and loved ones. I was completely INTOXICATED with the SOUNDS, SMELLS, TASTE and FEELINGS that are UNDENIABLY part of the city.
When I RETURN home, my neighbor had closed her SHUTTERS and I knew this DAY was over. I close the drapes to stop the RISING SUNLIGHT from penetrating the apartment. I put on my pyjama and slip under the covers. I close my eyes and SMILE as my mother did when I was young because I had finally UNDERSTOOD what made her so HAPPY.
PARIS is a city that TEACHES you to LOVE and embrace every MOMENT through its beauty and most of all, its JOIE DE VIVRE. I sing myself to sleep with the help of none other than EDITH PIAF's lyrics:
 |
| Michel Thomas "Les Momes" Postcard |
We start to talk about various subjects such as ART, ANTHOLOGY, PHILOSOPHY, POLITICS, MOVIES, LIFE in general and current events. A debate quickly ensues when the topic of laicite or secularism was brought to our ATTENTION. The French law banning students from wearing RELIGIOUS symbols in French public primary and secondary schools was just passed, and many believe it discriminated the Muslim COMMUNITY in the country. "They are asking me to deny WHO I am. I can't get a proper EDUCATION because of what I BELIEVE in. This violates our human RIGHTS," said Nabil. Of Morrocan decent, he is an ADAMANT political ACTIVIST, FERVENT idealist and an ELOQUENT speaker. The sensitive subject matter filled the air with somber THOUGHTS. Julien, the EXTEMPORANEOUS member of the group, stands up, grabs the bottle of wine from our table, drinks it to the last drop and STANDS on a chair. "VIVRE la France et la REVOLUTION!" he shouts out "On y vas!" Soon, we all followed suit, shouting and CHANTING the war songs of the Army of the Rhine; putting ASIDE all petty differences & worries... The night was still YOUNG.
 |
| Michel Thomas "Les Momes" Postcard |
 |
| Michel Thomas "Les Momes" Postcard |
When I RETURN home, my neighbor had closed her SHUTTERS and I knew this DAY was over. I close the drapes to stop the RISING SUNLIGHT from penetrating the apartment. I put on my pyjama and slip under the covers. I close my eyes and SMILE as my mother did when I was young because I had finally UNDERSTOOD what made her so HAPPY.
PARIS is a city that TEACHES you to LOVE and embrace every MOMENT through its beauty and most of all, its JOIE DE VIVRE. I sing myself to sleep with the help of none other than EDITH PIAF's lyrics:
Paris, tu es ma gaite, Paris
Tu es ma douceur aussi
Tu es toute ma tendresse
Paris, tes gamins, tes artisans
Tes camelots et tes agents
Et tes matins de printemps
Paris, l'odeur de ton pave d'oies
De tes marroniers du bois
Je pense a toi sans cesse
Paris, je m'ennuie de toi mon vieux
On se retrouvera tous les deux
Mon grand Paris
FIN
With Love,
Minou
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Journal- "Les Amants de Paris" Part 2
... Across the Pont de L'Archeveche lies the majestic Cathedral of NOTRE DAME de Paris, flocked by tourists with their flash bulb cameras.
Amused to see them in such AWE, I sat on a bench, observing the characters around the area, trying my best to SKETCH them in my notebook. You could see the ROSY cheeks of the children enjoying their ice creams and cotton candy. Some danced together in circles singing along to familiar LULLABIES like "Au Claire de la Lune" while others played with their imaginary friends. The Hawaiian shirts, waist bags, the cameras hanging from the neck, were the stereotypical tourist UNIFORM. The women share sun block lotions, directions, and maps all the while trying desperately to control their children. The men in their navy hats and sunglasses were sharing a few laughs and ANECDOTES. The colors, diversity and beauty of the city were JUMPING out of my notebook.
The sun was warming up and to escape the mass, I headed to MONTMARTRE, home to the Sacre-Coeur Basilica. Strolling through the narrow COBBLESTONE streets of old Paris, I watched the artists sketching caricatures of people and painting the scenery of the local market. I could hear the steps of the horses pulling on the chariots and the local entertainment acts singing their lungs out to CATCH the tourists' attentions.
Feeling a petit creux in my stomach, I sat down at the cafe, A La Bonne Franquette, to SAVOR the local delicacies. A woman was standing in the corner, a microphone in her hand and violinist by her side. She was interpreting Edith Piaf's "Milord" to ENLIVEN the spirits of the waiters. Volumptuous, with dark brown eyes and long dark brown hair FRIVOLOUSLY pulled together in a bun, she reminded me of tavern singers in the Spanish countryside. She wore an oversized red provincial dress and a belt that ACCENTUATED her waist. Her eyes were filled with passion as she sang every NOTE.
Amused to see them in such AWE, I sat on a bench, observing the characters around the area, trying my best to SKETCH them in my notebook. You could see the ROSY cheeks of the children enjoying their ice creams and cotton candy. Some danced together in circles singing along to familiar LULLABIES like "Au Claire de la Lune" while others played with their imaginary friends. The Hawaiian shirts, waist bags, the cameras hanging from the neck, were the stereotypical tourist UNIFORM. The women share sun block lotions, directions, and maps all the while trying desperately to control their children. The men in their navy hats and sunglasses were sharing a few laughs and ANECDOTES. The colors, diversity and beauty of the city were JUMPING out of my notebook.
The sun was warming up and to escape the mass, I headed to MONTMARTRE, home to the Sacre-Coeur Basilica. Strolling through the narrow COBBLESTONE streets of old Paris, I watched the artists sketching caricatures of people and painting the scenery of the local market. I could hear the steps of the horses pulling on the chariots and the local entertainment acts singing their lungs out to CATCH the tourists' attentions.
Feeling a petit creux in my stomach, I sat down at the cafe, A La Bonne Franquette, to SAVOR the local delicacies. A woman was standing in the corner, a microphone in her hand and violinist by her side. She was interpreting Edith Piaf's "Milord" to ENLIVEN the spirits of the waiters. Volumptuous, with dark brown eyes and long dark brown hair FRIVOLOUSLY pulled together in a bun, she reminded me of tavern singers in the Spanish countryside. She wore an oversized red provincial dress and a belt that ACCENTUATED her waist. Her eyes were filled with passion as she sang every NOTE.
Allez, venez, Milord!
Vous asseoir a ma table,
Il fait si froid, dehors,
Ici c'est confortable.
Laissez-vous faire, Milord
Et prenez bien vos aises,
Vos peines sur mon coeur
Et vos pieds sur unce chaise
The rest of the day, I venture through the city's museums, libraries, bakeries and flea markets. I was mesmerized by the beauty of the Impressionistic paintings at the Louvres, COMPELLED by the words of Simone de Beauvoir' Second Sex and launched into pure ECSTASY by the taste of the olive tapenades of Marseille. As the day was ending, I was falling desperately in LOVE with the city once more. I head home with a bottle of red wine, two baguettes, goat cheese and a RUSTIC 18th century book that I found for a bargain. My apartment was chilly because the open windows let through the cool EVENING air. As I go to close the shutters, I can still hear Edith Piaf's record playing at my neighbors place. Through the melancholy in her VOICE, I hear her reaching out for the cool nights and the animated SPIRITS of her native French women and men. Feeling a similar HINT of nostalgia, I knew the day was not over YET, it was merely the beginning of an ENCHANTING evening.
A SUIVRE...
With Love,
Minou
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