"...I might look the same, but I'm a little different now."

This post is for my dear family, friends and most importantly, my rare and grand sister. Paris was ineffable - but I will try with clumsy language to say what it meant to me:
the start.... dizzy traveling miles above and beyond.... giggling on the plane ...wondering what is to come. sweaty carrying bags through crowds of soft speaking natives.... on trains, off trains. zig-zag wonder where our apartment could be in this star maze of streets - bright sunshine and white clouds..... up up up 6 spiral floors. our little, white apartment ...and that window....opening wide. swallows swoop above the city, weaving invisible magic threads over us and everywhere we go.

Stunned and spacey wonder....walking walking walking a zillion miles on cobblestone, dusted streets....shops, cafes, unexpected windows and doorways adorned in intricate pictures that mostly go unnoticed by all those used to such detailed beauty...but to me, my eyes trace them all like fingertips...and want to taste their delicate edges and shadows. Strong coffee with heavy cream, crunchy bread... my sister laughing. watching. waiting for nothing....everything is arriving every moment.... everything is just right now. Headstones crumbling, hiding behind stained glass, angels frozen just before flight, unexpected rainshowers and blowing wind.... up the Eiffel Tower....up up up feet walking up...rust from the hand rails forever tattooed onto my gray sweater (I will never wash this out).... to the top. an almost secret door where champagne waited for us to find it.... and toast this grand view. Rodin sculptures....impossible to take a bad photograph of these sensual and flowing lines made from stone.... more like the flowing water that lies beneath the skin frozen in loving embraces. Monet.... lilies lining the curving walls...spin and spin around to take it all in.... dizzy with the layers and layers of blue strokes and hidden light suddenly shining through the longer you look. Time stopped existing....we stroll way past our bedtimes, eat crepes and drink wine long after everyone has gone.... we stumble in the general direction of our apartment....take many wrong turns.... laughing.... wondering where are we going.... but somehow always make it back "home". and then there is the river..... walk and stop. drink wine. eat baguettes... boats glide to us and away again.... so many different bridges to choose from... across we go... into some other puzzle piece of beauty and life.... and the zen center where my sister lived...(forgot what it is called...?)...lovely place with a secret garden. and her friends there to welcome me with such wide open arms.... xo to them. Still so much more, my head is overflowing... eyes wide trying to greedily grab it all and pull it inside me so that I never forget. I am full of "merci beaucoup's" and "pardon's" as I am always stumbling into someone who is quickly going on their usual workday because I am forever looking upwards at some golden sculpture climbing our of a corner building, hundreds of years old.... how many ghosts walk this place... wear down these stone streets.... and now my footprints have joined them.

and at the end of every happyweary day, it's my sister and I, drinking wine, eating cheese and bread and going over our day.... rolling cigarettes... blowing smoke out our perfect window and gazing at the street below....and always, the swallows, flying, gentle turning circles.... the full moon, the deep opal blue twilight....

I am imprinted forever in this sky, these streets.... this place heavy with the gravity of a history that my west-most-edge of the western coast mind can barely comprehend... but feel it in my bones now. and I might look the same. but I'm a little different now. deepest gratitude to all those who have had a part in giving me this gift.

and to E - thank you for generously giving a week of your vacation to stay home and play with the H's - because of this, I was able to freely enjoy my time so far from home knowing that everyone I loved was being safely and lovingly taken care of so that my mommy-heart was not heavy and aching. this was a priceless thing. xxxxxooooo dear husband.

and to my mom, who as always and ever is there for me to watch over my children and be their beloved Beggin and also gives me a great sigh of relief for their well-being.

and for Amy, welcoming me back down to earth with champagne and eager eyes to see all my photos, no matter how tedious.

and to my sister.... I feel even more deeply bonded to you, heart and soul.... and am in awe of your traveling heart.... (and how much french you know and understand..... would never have made it to the first metro stop without you). I love you dearly.... where will we go next....?! I don't know, but I know - we. will. go.....

xxoo
wen.

oh to revel, oh to reveler, oh bye bye

well, my dear sister has flown off.
we had our last cafe au lait at a very strange place complete with hanging santas and stuffed wild pigs, also lots of pictures of marilyn monroe and other actors pasted all over the walls between the feathers,lights, and pink flowers...
it was a sad goodbye(until we meet again, in Paris----y'all come along this time)
and we had an amazing paris vacation.
the only problem is time. way too fast.

i dropped wen off at the airport---i just walked and walked and walked around people watching.
i picked up a spinach camembert tart for lunch and walked along the river, a bit of st. germain,
hotel deville, and st michel and god knows where else.
l0ts of fn people watching.

i soft blue evening brought some out some amazing break dancing with a boom box, a white faced clown imperciptiblly moving, a juggler balancing a fish bowl on his head, and a sincere pop ginger singing rock-folk.....
well, it was a crazy and loud evening, but wen is very missed.
walking up the 6 floors of circular stairs all alone with the empty white apt, was, indeed, sad and mystifying. time folds in on itself. and memories get trapped in the folds. so i must TRY to remember the beauty.

i am so tired, i am falling asleep.
will post photos a bit later

good night for now
xoxoxox


sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

La séparation est tant de douleur douce…

My last day in this deep and heady city. It has blown through me and sunk deep into my bones. We rolled out unhurried and unscheduled into the day. First in search of a comic book store to buy something for a certain someone (you know who you are). After, we roamed all thru St. Michel..... and ended up once again by the Seine. But this time with wine (and potato chips....and a bagette). What else do we need as we watch the boats flowing by and the changing light.
But then the call of the Arch de Triumph pulls us up off our lazy Paris asses (..though not really. I think I have walked a hundred miles this week...and barely felt it). We glide down the Champs Elysees, watching people and clouds and my neck aches from looking up at all the angels and spires and buildings carved with the most intricate of designs, even in the smallest of corners and edges. We try on sunglasses that cost $600 (we saved a LOT of money not buying things). Then the arch appears... looms. rises. inspires awe and makes me take way too many photos of its curves and open sky border. Now, we are hungry. Time to stop at a cafe and have a cold Leffe and camembert, bread and some genuine french onion soup. yummy. and yes, we smoke hand rolled cigarettes.... hey, it's France. that's what you do.

No, I did not go in the Louvre... I honestly think I may have exploded trying to take all that in. That is for the next trip. This visit to Paris was just perfect in our mostly random walking, really feeling what this city is like.... and just being here. be here now. This was truly a perfect dream of a journey.
But tomorrow I will be "there" now. so strange. ...life is but a dream. we will continue row, row, rowing....xo

monet, butoh, ox tail, and fighter jets

we are slow to waking, but nicely so. as paris sounds jump into our window and our bellies still recovering from last night.

today is slowly waking as we drink machiattos and put on red t's to venture out into the city,,, maybe a neighborhood walk; montmartre? st. michel? st. germain? we will see.

oh, but yesterday, what a day! beginning with a swim into the monet water lilies at musee l'orangerie in the tuilleries garden. 2 round rooms completely surrounded by these intoxicating blues, blues, blues, and greens. we were drowning before being rescued by renoir, picasso and matisse.

we stumbled out into the street finding our way to st. honore where the most expensive shops in the world are. window shopping for our favorite clothes. wen bought boots and a dress for a mere 2100$ at 'colette'. i bought chanel for 8700$.
just for my trips to thriftway(only place i really go on vashon) ...okay, really what we do is pick out all the things we want to buy, add them up and then celebrate how much money we just saved by not buying them. We have saved over $20,000 so far!

we came upon some interesting music played on speakers and noticed a white faced japanese dancer: butoh! another man danced around him balancing a large crystal ball. within the city speed, it was surreal. (those butoh dancers are so boring)

as we walked away from the dream-like dance, vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm overhead and we saw jets in formation flying over the paris buildings. but it was formation after formation. many people came out of their apartments looking up at the sky. everyone stopped on the street just looking up into the sky watching the designs shooting through the sky spaces between buildings.

we found a wonderful kitchen shop where wen bought an iron kitchen pot for her boss(have fun carrying that home, wen!)
and then we found 'l'eclaireur', a wonderful hidden boutique with the most beautiful interior. we fell in love with this hand-made furniture and found 2 magical charms that will always carry paris on our wrists.

we had to rush home to change for dinner. neither of us can remember the name of the place my friend Jin took us to in bastille, but it couldn't have been more traditionally french with red and white checkered curtains, and small chintzys all around the walls. as soon as we sat down, they brought us small glasses of champagne and a plate of thinly sliced sausages.
the owner, a very large gray haired man(he must've been 80) wearing large square turquoise glasses made suggestions (well, we really didn't have a choice).
so, we ended up with tartine(pork and fresh herbs), foie gras(don't tell) that melted in your mouth, and leek tart.... for starters. and, of course, red wine (what was it???)... but it was very slightly chilled in a bucket of ice right after ordering....the wine itself was not chilled in your mouth, but just the right temp.... and lingered on your tongue for days.
then came the ox tail, rabbit, and chicken in wild mushrooms served with potato/celery puree.
no dessert, but a well-orchestrated performance of the grand 'alcohool de plum' (something like that) anyway, it was a plum alcohol that tasted like a fine cognac with hints of plum.
it was poured into enormous glasses as the owner gave a fine performance while the deep blue flames from lighting the glasses emanated from the rims.
"the flames burn the alcohol; the first pour has none. the second pour will make clouds in front of your eyes. the third, we will let you sleep here...." and on like that. The aroma from the warm liquid was so potent when you put the glass to your lips that you felt high even before the first sip.

it was grand. we dreamed of tail-less oxes and little bunnies.....

now we are off to.... a ferry ride? or perhaps a ferris wheel.

rodin, eiffel, champagne, and a pee

this is the passion of paris. camille claudel knows passion---i think better than rodin himself. well, yes, much better i must say.

if only to be loved this much.... Paris accepts passionate love from millions of in-love visitors each day.

we walked through the rodin musee today after an eclair and creme brulee. intimate with the sculptures, but not so intimate as the makers. round and round and round each one our eyes turn inside out upside down all around...

white with passion. black with thinking---a rodin makes us wonder at our stumbling lives of paper and plans....

oh, it this weren't enough for the wilting heart----we wondered ourselves to the legs. her legs (his legs?) hmmmmm..... well, either way he/she shoots to the infinite sky and up, up, up we went. walking up the metals stairs in a muscial rhythm of steps and heartbeated breaths.then to the top. top of the world. a rainbow appeared(oh yes it did) so we toasted with fine champagne served by tomas(oh YES we DID) right at the very top. the best champagne we ever drank.
and then. well, i had to pee. so i did. right there. (well, in a toilet, but it was eerie peeing so high, i mean where does it go?drifting down like clouds too tired to float, we forgot time and the full moon guided us home, with a pit stop at a small grocery stand for bordeaux and avocados to munch as the wind blows wildly making the car horns sound stupidly insignificant.

we are tired and happy.

Today: perfect omelette for breakfast along with unworldly good fresh squeezed orange juice and such lovely dark coffee with caramel foamy cream. Then, The cemetery.... Maria Callas (a tiny paper piano adorning her place)... overwhelming sculptures of skin and bones victims of Auschwitz marking the sorrow that cannot be comprehended, Oscar Wilde and all those lipstick prints on his stone - so beautiful, Edit Piaf and a cat that was curled up, contented next to her stone, Gertrude Stein & Alice B. Toklas - their stone adorned with very exact stones and jelly beans, Moliere.... and of course, Jim Morrison - a sad sort of assortment of garbage perceived as gifts, weighing down the already overly heavy site.... This cemetery... ages old, is weighted by every year it has existed... the sky was dark and stormy the whole time we were there... and we were years heavier as we left it. Had to find lightness after that. Went to the banks of the Seine and ate baguettes with ham and cheese, drank ice cold Heinekens (I know - supposed to be wine... but that comes later) and watched the sun over the water and the boats flowing by - healed all our cemetery wounds.
Finished up with Mojitos with mounds of fresh mint leaves at a sidewalk cafe while wearing impractical shoes.... then "home" for the best meal of salami and cheese and tomatoes with a very good bordeaux.... then chocolate mousse while watching some ridiculous french tv show.
Now sleep. sleep. sleep. so much still to do and see............................xo

wendy and paris(not hilton)

If anyone has been in doubt, there can be no more... I am, indeed, in Paris. See the photographic proof. This photo taken at the end of today.... though it is now tomorrow... but not in Seattle - it is still yesterday (but we have no watches and never really know what time it is anyway). And yes, I am still a little zig-zag jet lagged from this craziness. But now I am good and tired with one well earned blistered foot from walking walking walking all through the streets of Marais - every building, beautiful, and older than my western mind can comprehend - and adorned with intricate little flourishes - stone angels and layers and layers of leaves or something that feels of a persons hands and heart and soul - nothing like the glass boxes we like to build. And yummy food. and cheap wine. and strong coffee. and beautiful clothes on beautiful people - so many lovely girls - not a good place to go if you are a woman with low self esteem - it is sure to sink lower - for the women here are carefree and (seemingly) effortless in their beauty and feminine strength. They all walk straight and with no apology.

This was a day for ambling with no plan, but ending up always somewhere we wanted to be, especially at sunset when we found ourselves at the top of the Pompidou looking out at the Eiffel Tower (and all of Paris at our feet under pink skies with lavender clouds)...and just as the sun sank below the horizon, the Tower lit up with hundreds of sparkling lights - utterly magical. ...can't wait for tomorrow. ...I mean, today.

these are the musical stairs, rhythmic and endlessly divine

to paradis and toilets

morning in the marais

hello bonjour mon amis,
gwendolyn et moi are now here, landed,
after a very tumultuous trek through the grimey and crowded
RER B, the train from the airport to paris.
"an unnounced strike" created less trains and hoards of hot travellers.

we have this nice view from our apt window of the city hall, i believe.

first evening, i was re-visiting an old worn shoe that i couldnt take off---(causes blisters)
and wen was drinking coronas with a famous author, Nicola Keegan, in a small bistro
by the Seine.

This Sunday morning, we had a petit dejeuner in an old market, bought a bouquet of flowers, and looked through vintage photos at a small stand.

The sky is filled with swallows, puppy white clouds with shards of baby blue.
Sounds of cars and over-sized laughter in the street below.

we are off----
where? well, the streets will carry us today.
maybe tomorrow we will carry them

but first, we will try to post a photo
xoxo j&w