Friday, November 14, 2008

Last Photos of Paris

So now I am back in the states...visiting with my favorite fellow...Ian. Off to see my mother who I have missed a great deal during my sejour in Paris. I will pick up that favorite beast Nikits in a couple of days and then venture home to another paradise ... Humboldt County. I will wake up next week up in my Rio Dell nest and look out over a beautiful landscape and I will see lovely vistas that I can walk into. I will be thankful for another safe trip and return and I will carefully record all memories of my month in Paris quietly in my artistic mind.

Until the next trip...I will work on that Jaques Brel song 'La Chanson des Vieux Amants' and finish work on the Prevert 'Les Fueilles Mortes' piece. Perhaps David D will indulge me weekly letting me sing it at Sequoia Springs and for a brief minute I will be back in Paris walking through the autumn leaves.

Dining in montmartre district

On the last beautiful day of meanderings, of which I had too few, Nadia and I decided to go to Place Pigale. We met up at the Metro stop Anvers and proceeded to walk up to Montmarte's art gallery (I am remembering this to be called St.Pierre...Nadia where are you to help edit this post?) and then continuing up one of the many sets of stairs found ourselves a perfect little café nestled into the neighboring quasi wild landscape adjacent to the Sacré Couer Cathedral. We had a perfect meal. Surrounded by glass windows we dined on quiches that were so light I found them to be more like soufflées.  Mine was a blue cheese and hazelnut served with the typical salade mixe and light french dressing. Nadia joined me in a glass of wine to celebrate. This is not her normal approach...but then we were celebrating the ending of a perfect visit to Paris.

       The weather had begun blue and warm in the morning. When I had left my apartment I had optimistically not brought my coat. I knew I was silly but I wanted to be as unfettered as possible for my last walk through the streets of Paris.

      By the time we ate lunch I had purchased a beautiful metre of aubergine colored wool that was discounted to a mere 7.60 Euro...You might just see me in a skirt of it later this season. We found it in a fabulous fabric store at the base of the cathedral where all smart fabric shoppers go.  I had bought it on the third floor of a five floor fabric store and wore it around my shoulders as a make shift shawl to accompany my Vivian Westwood jacket.and Wolford 'body' turtleneck. As footwear... , my new high heeled boots that I had purchased in Arcata (Japanese designer, American produced) as a fashionable good bye to the city of such glamour and elegance. Yes, this was the last day of 'dress up' and it felt great.

     We finished our lunch in time to meet Isabelle, wife of Bernard V who had located the fabulous apartment I had at 1 rue de Sainte Hyacinthe. We enjoyed her little antique store and a good long chat. She invited us to dine chez eux but sadly I had to inform her of my departure.
This was the beginning of sobering thoughts. 

       My return to America and beautiful family, friends and home always denotes the leaving of my beautiful loving friends and favored city.  It is the severing of meditative thoughts and creative discourse that can only occur in the culture that adores to meticulously review conversation, design, culture, politics, life and art. I had come to realize in my moments of guiding and translating for American friends that my time in Paris has always been where I refuel artistically and spiritually. The inner conversations that occur while walking through the jardins/city parks of Paris cannot and do not come to life anywhere else in the world for me. It is a deep well of personal and private artistic gain that I come away with. It is for this reason that departure from France for me is difficult. 

     To lighten my mood Jean Francois joined me for a quick meal at a Korean restaurant not far from the Hyacinthe apartment.  While walking back to my Parisian 'nest', the streets were quiet and a bit damp. It had been a national holiday just as it was in the U S...veterans day. Many of the french had taken a four day holiday so there was little traffic and many shops and restaurants had been closed.  In the quiet of the evening I popped into a hotel next door to my place. After writing my last emails in their cyber café I  returned  for a last nights sleep in that lovely district of the Louvre, Jardins du Tuileries, rue de Rivoli, La Loge de la Concierge.... elegant and often over priced cafés, beautiful shops, stylishly dressed women, children and men.