The Tour de France

It's been thrilling to watch the Tour de France on TV. Even better to see the race up close and personal, right?

I hopped on my bike hoping to catch some good photos of the Tour de France finish on the Champs Elysees. Ha! Easier said than done. At least 300,000 other people all had the same idea. I made it only as far as the rue de Rivoli, across from the Tuileries gardens near the Louvre, on the east end of the final loop. I couldn't wiggle my way into the front row, but I did manage to stick my arm and camera in between a few people so that I could snap a few photos.

Here are the best of them. Remember, I don't have one of those big fancy cameras with speedy shutter speed and long lens!






I tried moving down the street to find a better spot. I climbed up some steps, but just caught a big blur as they whizzed by at 50+ km/hr.



This is about as close as I could get to the winner in the yellow jersey, Alberto Contador. Oh well.


You can find much better pictures on TV or the Tour website, but it was exciting to be there and to see them speed past.

New helmet

I finally picked up a new bike helmet. I've been riding my bike regularly, and even though Paris has quite a few bike lanes like this one:


It's still a little scary mixing it up with buses and cars. So now, and after some urging by those who care about me, I have a new bike helmet. The helmet I had back in Boulder didn't have pink flowers, but hey, this is Paris! And it matched the pink shirt I happened to be wearing. I was more concerned with protecting my head than looking good, but the bike shop owner assured me that this will do a good job protecting my head while still looking "fun" (yes, they use the English word).


Now I am off to watch the arrival of the Tour de France on the Champs Elysees in Paris. Stay tuned for photos!

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.