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 Ile Saint Louis in Paris
We have arrived in Paris! (For those who are new to this blog, in August, 2009, I came on vacation to Paris with my estranged husband and boyfriend. But thanks to Paris, he is no longer estranged. So I will refer to him as my No Longer Estranged husband.)
 map of Ile Saint Louis
Our apartment is on the magnificent Ile Saint Louis—a tiny island that was once a swamp, located across the bridge from its larger sister island, Ile de la Cite where Notre Dame Cathedral dominates the landscape. Rick Steves’ Paris writes about Ile Saint Louis: “If the Ile de la Cite is a tug laden with the history of Paris, it is towing this classy little residential dingy laden only with high-rent apartments, boutiques, characteristic restaurants and famous sorbet shops.â€
Ile Saint Louis is so tiny that we can walk around the entire island in 20 minutes. Four bridges connect the isle with the Left Bank, the Right Bank, and Ile de la City. The many cheese shops, wine stores, clothing boutiques, butchers, gourmet food stores, gift stores and ice cream shops lining the streets make it feel like a quaint village more than a city neighborhood.
Berthillon—the most famous name in French ice cream is on our block known for its constant line of patrons waiting to sample its specialties: chocolat blanc, chocolat noir and vanille made from vanilla beans from Madagascar. The island is surrounded with ice cream shops–three Berthillon locations plus cafes selling Berthillon glace and sorbet. For gelato lovers, Amorino Gelato caters to their tastebuds.
One of the first things I noticed after the shuttle dropped us at our apartment was people, young and old, walking down the sidewalk brandishing ice cream cones, stopping periodically to gaze in shop windows and lick, before proceeding ahead. Several times, I nearly received an ice cream cone in the chest as tourists walk down the sidewalk full speed ahead without regard to the ice creamless pedestrians in front of them.
What is a visitor on the Ile Saint Louis to do? The weather is perfect for walking, the sun peeks through a cloudy haze, and Berthillon beckons.
 Little Black Flats
Five weeks until I leave for Paris! A mere 35 Days! Relying on my Paris experience from last summer, I’ve worked out some of my packing problems: shoes— little black flats ready to go. Clothes—last summer was unbearably hot and I found that summer dresses were the most comfortable—plus I felt properly dressed for lunch at a fabulous restaurant or a cocktail at a neighborhood café.
The puzzle I needed to solve for this year’s trip was a technical one. I want to be able to print out maps, directions, and web info while I’m in Paris. After researching mobile printers I’ve decided upon the Canon Pixma IP100.
I want to be “connected†wherever I go in Paris. I could use my Ipod Touch for wifi—that way I can get emails and use the Internet while I’m walking around town—but my IPod Touch doesn’t have a camera or phone so I’ll also need a phone.
Maybe I should bring a phone and a netpad—those little cute computers that you can throw in your purse. I found an adorable pink netbook for $350 dollars that would do the trick. Then I could rent a Vodaphone for the month.
 Post Pink in Paris?
Or what about an iPad? Wouldn’t that be handy to take notes, load photos and use as a web browser?
 the iPad takes Paris by storm
But wait—enter the Blackberry Tour world phone—one-stop shopping for email, web browser, phone and camera while in Paris. Would the French call it Le Blackberry? Or Le Mure? (Blackberry a la francais.)This would solve many of my problems: I wouldn’t’ have to get a new phone number. I can load GPS, Google Maps and Skype—as well as a translation application! I can get email on the go (and Verizon offers an affordable global plan for text, email, and web).
 Beloved Blackberry
The world in Paris will be at my fingertips. Need a taxi? I’ll have it programmed into my phone. How to find Deux Magots? Use GPS—n’est ce pa?
Stay tuned to see if my technological solution really does make my life as easy as I hope. I’m driving to Verizon right now to buy a new Blackberry! (Le Mure)
 Edward practices getting on an elevator Edward loves the French life. In Paris, dogs are transformed from dogs into small kings. They are invited into cafes, department stores, and hotels as long as they have good manners. Edward tasted this life at the Hotel Monaco on a trip to Salt Lake City and now he is dreaming of a trip to Paris.
 The little king on his bed at Hotel Monoco Could I actually take Edward with me to Paris? I can picture the two of us strolling down the Boulevard St. Germain. Or lounging at our beautiful apartment. Dogs are not allowed in most parks, however, so I’m not sure if Edward would enjoy walking only on cement. He prefers grass. But then, perhaps Parisian cement is better than plain old U.S. cement. Perhaps he could adapt.
I started doing research to see if I can bring Edward with me to Paris.
There isn’t a quarantine required but there are regulations:
1. Each family is limited to 5 animals (children are not counted as animals!).
2. every animal must be identified by a microchip (standard ISO 11784 or annex A ISO standard 11785) or a tatoo. If the microchip’s standard is different, you must bring your own scanner in order to read the microchip.
3. every animal must have a valid rabies vaccination, even if less than 3 months old. If it is the first rabies vaccination for the pet, you must wait 21 days between the last shot of the vaccination protocol and departure.
4. the health certificate will be valid for 4 months after signature by an official veterinarian (certified by the USDA) or endorsement by the competent authority (USDA). The list of USDA Area Offices of Veterinary Services may be consulted at the following URL address www.aphis.usda.gov.
5. the blood test is not required for animals coming from Canada and the United States.
You also need to check with the airlines to see if they require any additional paperwork.British Airways was expensive as the dog had to travel as cargo. If you fly Air France you can take the dog as excess baggage, and it is much cheaper and easier. One family paid almost $1000 for the dog to fly BA and the charge was only $150 with Air France.
Maybe I can train Edward to ride in a handbag—probably unlikely unless I pulled him on a rollable suitcase, he’s a bit of pudge in his older age. Or to ride in a basket on my bicycle. Who am I kidding, his nickname is piglet, he’s a chunky little fellow. But he would fit in a kennel/bag under my seat. This is where the idea comes to halt. I picture poor old man Edward stuck under my seat for 13 hours—he would need to pee. We have a brief stop in Atlanta—I could possible rush him outside and then, what? Go back through security? How does one go through security with a dog? Does he have a boarding pass? What if his microchip set off the alarm? What if we were detained and we missed our flight. The paranoid part of me has overtaken my imagination and vetoed Edward going to Paris. I must go to Paris sans chien.
 Edward at home reading fashion magazines For now, Edward will have to content himself with an annual visit to the Hotel Monaco. And also, I will be without the perfect Parisian accessory. Quelle domage!
Sometimes life is better than, well, life! My friend Sarah said, “Why don’t you do for other writers what you did for me? You could take them to museums, go to restaurants, show them Paris?â€
 The clock at Musee D This is the most brilliant idea ever!
Deciding to test the waters, I conceived a salon-style week in Paris and dubbed my new project the Left Bank Writers Retreat: We’ll write each morning from a beautiful Paris apartment; in the afternoon we’ll explore Paris. My friend Eliza created a beautiful website for the project, we pushed the button to launch the site and crossed our fingers.
The response from writers was immediate. We had so much interest we added a second week (still space available). Sarah agreed to sign on and teach a session about poetry and help pull the class together—it will be so much fun to have her there. So for the entire month of June, I’ll be spending my time in Paris. Pinch me.
I’m already planning where we’ll go and what we’ll see. For today though, sitting in Jackson Hole looking out at sun on snow I’m going to daydream a little and make a list of my favorite things in Paris, the many things we have to look forward to:
Reading a book while sitting on a bench at the Tuilleries
Riding bicycles at Versailles
Strolling through Rodin’s garden
A corner café with Vodka Tonics and fresh lemon
The pear tartes
Watching children sail boats at le Jardin du Luxembourg
The clock at Orsay Museum
Dinner at The Café Eustache with my e husband and boyfriend
Can’t wait to add more to the list!
Yesterday I saw “It’s Complicated‖a fabulous movie where Meryl Streep’s character owns a gorgeous bakery in Santa Barbara. During one scene, love-interest Steve Martin craves fresh croissants so Streep takes him to her bakery where she proceeds to make croissants right there in front of him. During this after hours tour, Streep uses her croissant machine to roll, fold, roll, fold, roll fold. Next, we see them sitting at a table enjoying the delicious croissants hot from the oven.
There are people I’ve heard that make croissants from scratch—without an automated croissant machine! My foray into a Paris bakery has squelched any desire that I had to try this at home—with 200 layers it would take hours to make real croissants and I don’t’ have the patience. My dreams of waking up my daughter with a hot croissant fresh from the oven were not to be.
But wait, have you heard about Pillsbury pastry dough at your grocer? Connoisseurs will shudder here—Pillsbury makes croissant dough that doesn’t come close to the real thing but in a pinch, in our family, it will do. So I rolled out the dough. Cut it in squares.
Filled with chocolate chips and folded in the way I learned in Paris–filled croissants are square not crescent shaped.
Made a choco framboise for me–filled with chocolate and raspberry jam. Anna is a purist, chocolate only!
Baked them and served to my smiling daughter.
Cost: A bakery class in Paris $200. Ingredients from the grocery story $5.50
Homemade croissants served in bed: Priceless.
During the winter holidays in Paris the Eiffel tower and the Champs Elysees are strung with twinkling lights. I’m imagining how beautiful that must be, even as I’m writing from the winter wonderland of Jackson Hole, where our Town Square with its famous antler arches is draped in sparkling blue lights. Still, I dream of visiting Paris at the holidays one year.
For my amusement, I decide to check out flights to Paris in June. As appealing as a winter visit to the City of Lights may sound, I love Paris’s summer café society, the ability to walk everywhere, the parks… I can almost taste the tarts at the charming neighborhood patisseries now.
I know I can’t really take off a month and head to Paris again this summer. I have a business, a daughter, a life. But I figure it won’t hurt just to look to see what tickets are available.
Last year I was surfing the web site and found an irresistible roundtrip ticket to Paris for 60,000 miles – which started this blog in the first place. This year, after plugging in dates, the lowest mileage ticket I can find is 107,000 miles. Convinced that the mileage needed for a ticket will only go up I take a deep breath and press “reserve.†Next I call my credit card company to transfer miles and discover I have exactly enough for the ticket. When I go back to the site to apply the miles to my ticket, however, for some reason my initial reservation is gone and the 107,000-mile ticket has evaporated like morning fog. Now the only available ticket is for 132,000 miles.
I will not have enough miles for a 132,000 mile ticket even if I cash in every mile I have! Panicked (although this all started as an exercise in “what if” to begin with), I call the airline where a very kind person actually manages to find another 107,000 mile ticket. Of course I bought the ticket. So 107,000 is the new 60,000 – and Paris, here I come.
In Paris, people adore their chiens and take them everywhere. They take them to restaurants, hair salons and shops. As you may have read in my past blog post, during the French class I took in Paris, the teacher told us to ask her any question that would be useful and she would be happy to translate for us. So much to the amusement of my classmates, I asked how to say : May I photograph your dog? Laugh if you will but this sentence came in very handy. I saw a dog on the street in Paris who reminded me of my beloved cairn terrier Edward. Below is French dog
 Edward's Doppelganger Here is Edward
The French and the way they bring their dogs everywhere: to stores, restaurants, hotels inspired me to bring Edward with us to the Hotel Monaco in Salt Lake City. The Hotel Monaco is a very dog friendly hotel—each room has a dog bed and when you walk into the lobby there is a sign welcoming guests: Welcome Edward!
Edward loved the room, the bed and especially the very large dog bone treat awaiting him.
I think he could get used to the ways of the French.
 Lights out at the Louvre My daughter Anna had a dream of going to Paris this Christmas. She looked up photos of Paris during the holidays – the cozy cafes, the twinkling white lights. It didn’t work out for us to go this year. In hindsight, I’m relieved we didn’t splurge on tickets after reading news of the closing of many of Paris’s major museums.
Museum workers are striking against a government plan to replace only half of retiring civil service workers, and other planned cuts. The two sides are in talks but not close to an agreement as yet.
To best make their case, the workers are striking In the midst of the holiday season – a museum workers’ strike has led to closure of two of France’s biggest tourist attractions: The Louvre Museum in Paris and the Palace of Versailles, in a Paris suburb . The Pompidou Center for modern art was the first museum to be affected by the strike nine days ago. The Arc de Triomphe, Gustave Moreau Museum, the Gothic chapel Sainte-Chapelle, Rodin Museum and Musee d’Orsay have since followed.
Worker strikes or “grève des travailleurs” are a way of life in Paris. Last summer, when leaving Paris, I asked my landlord how long I should allow for the cab ride to the airport. Oh, a couple hours, he said. To be safe, and since I didn’t have anything better to do, I ended up leaving my apartment four hours before my flight’s departure time. In reality, I barely arrived as the flight was boarding.
The reason, according to my courageous cab driver, was “the grève†or “the strike.†On the day we we were driving to the airport, a workers’ strike was blocking airport entrances; my resourceful cab driver took a back entrance and I arrived with only minutes to spare.
Parisians seem to take their strikes in stride – c’est la vie. But for the many travelers to the City of Lights this holiday season, let’s hope that museum lights are quickly turned back on.
 The verit Shakespeare and Company
It snowed today in Jackson Hole and as I’m currently stuck inside, I was daydreaming about Paris. Today, the LA Times included a story about Shakespeare and Company—the venerable English language bookstore on Paris’s Left Bank and one of the best bookstores in the world:
The English-language bookstore on Paris’ left bank, Shakespeare and Company, has been a draw for generations of expatriate writers. That goes for both its first iteration, owned by Sylvia Beach, who was the original publisher of James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” and the more recent version, opened in 1951 by George Whitman. And those writers are rendered in portraits in a new mural in the shop, on the stairwell between the ground floor and the upstairs browsing/reading room.
On its website, Bomb Magazine has a slideshow of the mural’s creation, and an interview with the artist, Badaude (a.k.a. Joanna Walsh).
 Shakespeare and Company Mural Here’s the part that caught my attention. The mural is located on the stairwell between the ground floor and the upstairs browsing/reading room. I can’t wait to see this marvel of art in this extremely crowded—yet wonderful—space. First, on my recent visit, books were stacked, shelved and piled in almost every square inch of real estate in the store. A one-person corridor—let’s call it the train track—runs through the store and up the stairs. You queue up behind other shoppers and as the train moves forward you have a chance to stop and browse books when the person in front of you stops. If they need to bend over to reach a title near the floor, it may require you to back the train up behind you.
The mural will be at the back (left) of the shop in a stairwell so narrow and low that I felt the need to duck. However, no one lets the claustrophobic nature of Shakespeare and Company stop them from entering the hallowed space—the cramped quarters are part of its charm. I’m sure the mural will provide one more stop for the “train†going through.
Carolyn Kellogg, the LA Times writer, adds: “Today, the shop is run by George’s daughter Sylvia Whitman—George, now in his 90s, is mostly retired. It continues to offer events with French and American writers, like Jhumpa Lahiri and Mavis Gallant in June and Charles D’Ambrosio later this month.
After 17 hours traveling from Paris to Atlanta to Jackson Hole, I arrived to find smiling e-husband (and boyfriend) waiting for me at the airport. I was happy to see him him but I wasn’t able to conduct a real conversation, so tired from travel that I fell immediately into bed and slept until 4:30 in the morning when I was wide awake (jet lag). I decided to get up and start the day by checking email.
There I found a note from a client apologizing for the last minute notice but asking if we could pull together a proposal by Monday—it was now Saturday. Welcome back! Since I had a short window of lucidity, I scrambled to send out notes to our staff who thought I had lost my mind—who sends email at 5:30 a.m.? As I worked, Paris seemed very far away.
 Julia Child Later, E-husband (and b.f.) and I went to see the perfect movie for reentry into the U.S.–Julie and Julia. Who can watch that movie without being inspired to go into the kitchen and try your hand at Boeuf Bourgogne? When Julie is watching videos of Julia Child’s cooking program—I became determined to find out if they are available. Sure enough PBS offers the series Lessons with Master Chefs.
The scenes in the movie about Paris made me feel like I hadn’t left—I loved seeing Julia’s rich life in Paris and who can blame her for not wanting to leave? I’m not claiming to be a Julia Child, but I could relate to the scenes where Julia was despondent over the status of her unpublished cookbook. My friend Eliza Cross and I worked two years on a cookbook that was recently published. Who knew that writing a cookbook could be such hell? There were many days it didn’t look like it would make it to the printer, days where we thought our work on weekends (when we could have been hanging out with our families) would be for nothing. But in the end the cookbook was published, and now we are happy to see it selling in bookstores.
The day after I arrived home was the 6th wedding anniversary for e-husband and me. He calls it our “plastic anniversary†and arrived at my house with a dozen red roses wrapped in plastic. He brought all the ingredients to cook spaghetti in clam sauce—one of his signature dishes—and a nice bottle of wine. We sat on the patio looking at the Tetons, talking about the movie, and about the week ahead. He said it was our best anniversary ever and I’d have to agree.
Although my original 60,000-mile trip has come to an end, stay tuned for more French-flavored adventures.
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