OK, it finally sunk in. I stepped out of the metro at the Charles de Gaulle / Etoile stop into the sunlight and was welcomed to Paris by the grand Arc de Triomphe. I choked up as it hit me: I AM IN PARIS! I'M REALLY HERE! I MADE IT! I felt like I could finally exhale... suddenly aware that I'd been holding my breath for the past few months. Perhaps that would explain all the anxiety attacks in the middle of the night.
My flight from SFO to Paris was uneventful if you consider being surrounded by fifty (yes, 50!) 5th graders from a French school in Berkeley as uneventful. They talked for 11 hours straight. I was waiting at the boarding gate when a huge commotion broke out at the top of the stairs. Looks of horror come across the sea of faces as all eyes were fixed on the swarm of students descending the escalator to the gate. If it were a cartoon, the bubble over each head would have read, "Please, not next to me!!!" My prayers went unanswered and a very precocious 5th grader sat next to me and proceeded to tell me about her many previous trips to Europe and how she loved horses, had a horse, and collected all the plastic horses. She quickly grew weary of talking to me and joined her friends in the previous row and talked for the next 10½ hours.
I walked to my friend Isabelle's building on Avenue Hoche and we went around the corner to the aptly named 'Brasserie le Hoche' for lunch. I had perfectly grilled salmon with a lovely béarnaise sauce and some mushy vegetables. According to Chef Henri at the French Culinary Institute, that is the proper way to cook vegetables: "Laura! They are not 'mooshy', that is the way they are supposed to be, not raw like you Californians eat them!" I'll take raw over 'mooshy' any day... so I helped myself so some of Isabelle's perfectly fried pommes frites (no easy task as I can attest to having burned thousands of them in my few months in a professional kitchen) and slathered them with béarnaise. A quick espresso (café, as they call it) and I was back on the street. I felt re-energized, like I was back in New York. I walked back toward the Champs Elysées, turned left, and walked down the Champs Elysées toward the Louvre. The flower beds along the Champs Elysées are such a treat. The French really "get" flowers!
My first stop was Ladurée, the famous Salon de Thé (tea salon), with the most delectable macaroons on the planet. I purchased one of my favorite, hazelnut, for 4€ (ouch!!!) and continued all the way down the Champs Elysées savoring every little nibble, trying to amortize each bite.
After a few hours of walking, I found myself back at Avenue Hoche sitting at a tiny table in the window of the café looking out at the beautiful old buildings designed by the famous architect, Hausmann, who Napolean III commissioned to rebuild Paris. I day dream that I am living on the top floor of one of the buildings with an overflowing flower box of bright red geraniums on the balcony overlooking the street. I sip my café and fling open the windows with a rousing "Bonjour, Pa-ree!" I know it sounds cheesy and more like an Audrey Hepburn movie than anything but I don't care...I love this city!! :-)
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