Paris Plages (beaches)

Can't decide between staying in the city and going to the beach? No problem. In Paris you can do both! From the 20th of July to the 20th of August, the city of Paris brings in over a 1000 tons of sand and converts almost 3 km along the banks of the Seine in central Paris into a giant "beach" with recreation areas for adults and children.

I rode over on my bike yesterday to check it out. It was a Thursday afternoon, temperature in the 70s, so there were just a fraction of the numbers that will seek out the deck chairs, umbrellas, sprinklers, and games on the weekend when the weather climbs into the high 80s. Here is just a sample:








A free library:




Several snack bars where you can find everything from beer to fruit smoothies, and of course, ice cream:


There are tons of options for children. Games, drawing, science experiments, entertainers, and the opportunity to try things that kids normally wouldn't get to do. Like riding on a BMX track:



or jumping in a trampoline:


And everything except for the food is absolutely FREE!

"The Right to Write"

I just finished reading The Right to Write: An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life by Julia Cameron. Actually, I've been savoring it, saving it, reading one or two of its short essays each morning along with my breakfast. I didn't want it to end.

It was a great find for an amateur writer such as myself. In it, Julia Cameron insists that anyone can and should write for the sheer pleasure of it. It's about the process, not about the product. She points out that we have created a whole mythology about what it means to be a "writer". "Real writers are published", or "real writers make a living from their writing". As a result, most of us are intimidated and never even begin.

I was one whose experience of writing was in college: literary criticism, academic, forced, and returned in its final form with lots of red marks, never to be touched again. It was not introspective or creative. Not something that could grow, evolve or resonate with others. I never kept a diary or journal and it never occurred to me that writing could show me the way out or through. I've only recently found that by simply sitting down and putting pen to paper that I can allow the pen to take me to places I've never explored. I usually end up someplace much different than the place I start from. And I feel better. Too bad it took me 50+ years to find this out!

I took my first writing class just last year. My friend Dee in Boulder offered a memoir writing class and I discovered the tremendous support offered by a small group of caring women. Dee introduced us to the difference between "process" and "craft" and with the gentle feedback and encouragement provided in the class, I witnessed for myself how a piece could evolve and improve. Wow, maybe writing is something you can learn!

Once I had a taste of this writing life, I started reading as much as I could about the process and craft. I discovered Lisa Dale Norton's Shimmering Images: A Handy Little Guide to Writing Memoir, and of everything I'd read, this small book stood out as the very best of its kind. It changed everything for me. In January of this year I started an online writing course offered by Lisa and I look forward to additional online courses with her. I was thrilled to meet Lisa Dale Norton in person when she visited Paris this spring, and her professional advice and personal friendship are priceless.

Finally, when embarking on this voyage to Europe I decided to start writing a blog; partly as an open letter and record of my travels for friends and family, and partly as a continuation of my own self discovery. I am still often intimidated and embarrassed to label myself as "writer" in my profile, and while I would never dream of writing a whole book, I find that biting off small chunks and writing these thoughts and observations is less onerous than I imagined. "Writing is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." E.L. Doctorow.

Thank you, dear Readers, for your indulgence. And thank you for your comments and your encouragement.

It is with the 'permission', encouragement, and tools provided in books like Julia Cameron's The Right to Write that makes the trip worthwhile.

Lefebvre family

Yesterday I mentioned my dinner guests Odette, Philippe and Nathalie. I realize I've never properly introduced them. So let me try.

When Charlie and I lived in Paris in the 1970s we both taught English to adults. Charlie had a student, Pierre Lefebvre, who invited him to come to his home to give English lessons to his family. These lessons took the form of English speaking dinners. Pierre and his wife Odette hosted these dinners once a week and invited friends and extended family to come and speak English. There were typically at least eight dinner guests each time, and oh! the food!!

Charlie would come back recounting tales of the most incredible dinners - typically 5 courses, and what a revelation for someone growing up in a working class Denver family and now scraping by on the meagre wages of an English teacher.

Eventually, I was invited to join Charlie at the Lefebvre family English-speaking dinners and was gradually introduced to their large extended family.

Pierre was one of eight children, and we eventually became acquainted with his mother and all of his brothers, sisters, their spouses and children.

Odette was one of 12 children and while we never met all of her siblings, we were close to one sister and brother-in-law who later offered Charlie a much better job in a French company.

Pierre and Odette have 4 children: Jean Marc is the oldest. I wrote about him when we visited in Grenoble and St. Nizier. Here is a picture of his family:


Dominique is next. Here is a recent picture of her with her 3 children.


Philippe and Bruno are identical twins. They were only 10 years old when we first met. Philippe now lives in an apartment in Passage d'Enfer and Philippe and Nathalie are my neighbors during my frequent stays there. Bruno and his family live in Toulouse, so I haven't seen him yet. Here is a recent picture of Philippe and his companion Nathalie.


Our friendship has been a lasting one. We have known each other since before my children were born. We watched each others' families grow up and we hosted visits from several members of the Lefebvre family once we returned to the U.S. They have hosted Charlie, me, and our son Philippe during various trips back to France over the years and my son has remained friends with their children. We have been witness to various family trials, including Odette and Pierre's separation 25 years ago. Now I see Odette much more often than I see Pierre, and because of our 35 years of history, we are still close.

They have been patient teachers of French language and French culture and even though our correspondence has been sometimes infrequent, they have welcomed me back into the circle of friendship and family. They are my support system here in Paris.

p.s. I have started labeling these posts, so now you can go back and find other stories and pictures related to the Lefebvre family.

Paris Triathlon

Swimming in the Seine as part of the Paris Triathlon this weekend? Yes! But I missed it. By the time I got there it was all finished :-(

I 'borrowed' this photo from the City of Paris website . . .

Dinner party

Risotto con funghi with fresh chanterelles? Or a simple farm-raised roast chicken from my local butcher? A nice selection of cheeses, and baguettes still warm from the oven of my favorite bakery. I love shopping for dinner parties almost as much as cooking.

Odette, Philippe and Nathalie came over for dinner this weekend. My apartment got lots of oohs and ahhs - not because it's that special; the furnishings are pretty basic (IKEA), but because it's light, bright, quiet, and in a good neighborhood. They were impressed. But it's not about "impressing" them, it's about finding a space where I am comfortable and feel at home.

I was too busy talking, eating, and enjoying myself to take pictures of the people or the food - but I did take a picture of the flowers I brought home for myself.

Oysters - end of the season

I went to the Cabane à Huîtres again yesterday. I've been there every week since I returned from my most recent trip. When I arrived that day, after being gone for a few weeks, I was immediately greeted with a rousing "Welcome back! Where have you been? We thought maybe you'd returned to the U.S.!" Francis wasn't there that day, his son Frédéric had replaced him for the week. Frédéric, Ségolène and I had a great conversation. It was hot that day and the place was pretty empty at lunchtime.

It was hot last week too; there's no air conditioning here. But the oysters were delicious as usual. Every single oyster that I've ever tasted there has passed the "shrink test". If you know oysters, you know what that means. So even though it's getting late in the year (the old maxim is: you only eat oysters in months with "r") the Cabane was open.

This week it was cooler - no need for air conditioning - and the regulars were back. I feel like I know most of them - and have even become one myself.

This week I was treated to more stories and more history. Here is a photo (actually a photo that Francis uses as a business card). The person in the boat is Francis' father - in a "pinasse" (a flat-bottomed pine fishing boat) that he built himself between 1956-58. I learned all about the history of the boat, the Dubourg family and their oyster park. Five generations so far!


Mr. Pons was there too. He's the 96 year old who comes almost every day (except last week when it was exceptionally hot). He is still quite alert and except for being slightly deaf, he has lots to say. His recipe for longevity? Eat lots of oysters, and drink plenty of wine. M. Pons never drinks water!


However, it IS the end of the season, and the Cabane will be closing on Saturday the 17th of July, not reopening until the end of August and the beginning of the new season.

Bastille Day

The 14th of July is a national holiday in France - it's roughly equivalent to our 4th of July. BTW, the French don't call it "Bastille Day" they simply call it "le Quatorze Juillet" The holiday is characterised by several events:

1. A military parade down the Champs Elysees uncluding lots of soldiers, tanks, airplanes, and finishing with parachutists. This year's parade was marked by intermittent heavy rains which chased away lots of spectators - including me and my bicycle. However, I could watch the parade live on TV and wait as the jets flew past my windows.

2. Concerts - there were some enormous outdoor concerts - the biggest one in the place de la Bastille where I went to reconnoiter on my bike the day before. The musicians were rehearsing and doing sound checks when I went by. The round modern building in the background is the Opera Bastille announcing the programs for the upcoming season.


3. Bals des Pompiers (firemen's balls) - dances held in fire stations on the 13th and the 14th. There was one near my apartment with a long line of people waiting to get in. I didn't go - I think the average age was about 25. I could hear the music from my apartment though, it lasted until 4 AM.


4. Fireworks - start at 11 PM and best seen from the Eiffel Tower. I didn't go to see them live, just watched the sky and listened to the booms that I could hear from my place. I couldn't actually see the fireworks themselves, there was a building in the way, but the evening clouds were beautiful to look at.


I didn't get out much for the 14th - I am definitely a fair weather cyclist, and more of a reporter than participant. No matter, I enjoyed the rainy day, the evening sky, and staying home reading a good book. Besides, fireworks and dances and outdoor rock concerts are not much fun alone.