As Maury and I were roaming the Champs Elysees today doing our “errands,” it is really quite astounding to us how much we feel a real part of the neighborhood. The end of this week brought several milestones --- the end of the first month of instruction in French (Stop one: the bookstore to pick up our first books in French to practice reading); having a comfort level in communicating with sales people in French (Stop 2: pods for the Nespresso machine); preparing to move on to the next class in French (Stop 3: Israeli salads for the school “pic-nik” tomorrow to celebrate the end of the month); knowing how to order food in French and actually get what you ordered (Stop 4: a delicious juice, coffee and dessert break in a lovely space just a few minutes from where we live) and now home to arrange renting a car and planning out a nice trip outside of Paris for the weekend.

We had a blast last weekend visiting Honfleur in Normandie. Its 8, 000 inhabitants are called Honfleurais. The town is especially known for its old, beautiful picturesque port, and houses with slate-covered frontages, painted many times by artists, including in particular Gustave Courbet, Eugène Boudin, Claude Monet and Johan Jongkind, forming the école de Honfleur (Honfleur school), part of the Impressionist movement. Sainte-Catherin Church in the center of the town has the largest church made out of wood in France. It’s amazing to think that the town was actually established in around 1000; more amazing still that the population has remained the SAME for many of the years following until today, and the port is still a functioning one.

So there were lots of tourists, but we didn’t feel so. We were welcomed at the Hotel L’Ecrine by John Claude, a dapper old gent waiting to welcome us in the parking lot as we pulled in. The hotel was a house, fully decorated in the French antique style, absolutely lovely with a beautiful garden to match. The dinner we had of turbot, vegetables, wine and cheese sitting watching the sun go down, was beautiful enough to make you cry. No wonder the Impressionists found Normandie to be place of such beauty.

We also attended the past week Zorro “le musical” at the Folies Bergere, which was established in established in 1869 in Paris, France, and is a music hall which was at the height of its fame and popularity from the 1890s through the 1920s. It’s still in business, with the décor unchanged. We had so much fun watching the singing and dancing going on onstage! When we stepped outside onto Rue Bergere for the intermission at around 10pm, it was still light, but with the most magnificent light on the buildings --- they looked a whole different color than when we see them during the day, attending school close by. It was the most Parisian scene, with people sitting outdoors at cafes on all corners surrounded by the same buildings that stood at the time that the Folies were established. I’ve noticed from the reading that I am doing by authors who wrote about Paris, everything is contextualized by the street of where it is happening. I literally read with a map of Paris nearby, since the street names have never changed and all still exist. The Rue Bergere is a street that has been named in countless stories of Paris.

We both agree how much less stressful it is in one’s life to have public transportation --- we hopped on the Metro and were home within 15 minutes. You do need good walking shoes and knees to go up and down lots and lots of stairs, but it is a great way to get around.

Another terrific experience is the walking tours that we are taking --- so far to the Marais, the Latin Quarter and yesterday to Notre Dame and the Saint Chapelle and Conciergerie. We certainly have come away with a deeper understanding of the meaning of “revolution” and the deep instinctual need for men to feel their individual freedom. One day a palace for the royalty and their religious cohorts; the next day, (1793-4 to be exact), the site of the revolutionary tribunal, that changed the palace to a prison and proceeded in one year to behead 2700 people of royalty and connection to royalty or religion presumed to be an enemy of the revolution. We were really surprised to hear that the guillotine was actually used in France until September 10, 1977 to execute the torture-murderer Hamida Djandoubi. It was still then considered to be the most humane way to put someone to death!

It’s only by luck that 1/3 of the churches built in France before that time still remain,

including Notre Dame with its magnificent structure and stained glass windows, which was seriously proposed to demolish and use for other building projects.

Aside from the actual walking tour, Maury is getting a real kick out of our guide, Antoine, who is a very clever and bright young guy. Amongst other things Antoine likes to order for lunch is, blood sausage (boudin noir in French) made with pig’s blood, fat and onions. Evidently, sausage making tradition in France has lasted well over 2000 years. I’m telling you, what goes on in the menus here in France puts our simple Mediterranean / kosher style diet to shame! Just to see what is coming out of the kitchen of your typical bistro or brassiere is a real experience.

Then you have your simple pubs, like the one we stopped in to see the world cup game, when the owner and single bartender is so busy making a sandwich for himself, that he forgets about the customers! So we sat in this open air restaurant, a bookcase here filled with books for the patrons to read, a pool table there, a small piano here and felt like at home, watching the game with a group of kids from a Latin country, I think. So the drinks took a few minutes, but really the bartender expected people to come and sit for hours, which they usually do with never any pressure to leave. It is a well known tradition here that the restaurant doesn’t close until the last person leaves and there is never any pressure to.

We continue to see what an extraordinary difference it makes when people live together in close quarters and politeness is a part of the culture. For us, it’s the “simple” things that happen daily that continuously define France for us --- you never walk into a store or restaurant without someone addressing you with a bonjour madame, monsieur; you never leave without a merci, au revoir. People are patient to wait in line here even if it takes a few extra minutes for an elderly person while the merchant walks around the counter to place their purchases in their cart for them; on the subway, no matter how crowded, people never push and manage not to touch each other and speak in whispers so not to disturb; the guide we meet weekly to take walking tours around the city, will sit and have a drink with us at the end and spend an extra hour, just so that he can walk us to the subway or train door to make sure we don’t get lost going home; on the subway, everybody is either reading the paper or a book (not magazines for some reason I don’t yet understand); boys and men of all ages (including the coolest looking teens you’ve ever seen ---all thin-tight jeaned-tight tee-shirted-perfectly styled hair carrying their skateboards) hold open the door for me and let me go before them.

So, so far, so good. To be continued.

We’ve committed to going on a trip outside of Paris on Sundays, and last Sunday we visited Giverny, Claude Monet’s country home and gardens, which were beautiful!

There was also a really lovely medium sized Impressionist museum close by, with some significant pieces by other Impressionists artists. What a roudy group of twenty-somethings they all were, totally involved with the sea, sun, river, parties and nature around them! I think in the last few weeks I’ve gotten such a deeper understanding of why this art resonates so with me --- it’s all about recognizing the beauty in everything around us and the value of the “impression” or feeling that one gets at a particular moment of recognition of the simple beauty of existence.

We followed the visit by a typical Sunday lunch in a restaurant in a small city called Vernon. I was so satiated with wine, fish, vegetables, French bread, cheese, salad, and dessert that I could barely keep my eyes open on the ride home. So I came back and took a nap! Why not?

After 2 weeks/ 40 intense hours / studying and immersion here in the streets, our French is progressing pretty quickly. At the moment it’s really providing the focal point and a structure for our day, along with 1-2x/week walking tours of Paris, with a wonderful guide named Antoine. I am also planning this week join a few of the American-French organizations here that also have English-French conversation get-togethers several times a week as well as trips and events around the city. Next weekend there is a big literary event at a bookstore called Shakespeare and Company (located in the Latin Quarter) with authors, readings and dramatic presentations at the square next door. So there is lots and lots going on here.

And of course, everyone here is wild about the World Cup. The first game we hung out at the Trocadero, which is a huge public outdoor space with a huge outdoor screen to match. We saw the second England-USA game in a pub, where all of the 20-30 something Americans were all going absolutely berserk anytime the USA came close to scoring.

It’s pretty amazing how just a few weeks ago we were in Agoura, which for me is all about being in a sunny wide open green space with room to roam around in our lovely luxurious cars and homes and restaurants and stores and beach. Here it’s all about being out in the commons, in close proximity to people everywhere. I’ve quickly realized that in a dynamic and healthy community, where people respect other’s space and boundaries, it creates a real sense of excitement, stimulation and creativity. Rather than watching t.v. and movies, I’m sitting at cafes and watching people walk by. I feel as if I’m watching my very own French movie and making up my very own script in my head! Crazy, but very entertaining!

There is also a great value put on here on tradition and the thought leaders that built the city. Guess who lived in a room in the building where we do our banking with all of the latest technology? Marcel Proust, a very famous French novelist! The plaque on the front of the building says so!

Yesterday was an incredible experience walking through the Marais, which means swamp in French.

In the 14^th century it was an area built “outside” the walls of Paris and one of the few whose architecture has been left untouched since the 17^th century. It’s an example of so much of Paris and it’s depth of history --- originally built as a stone structure on the first floor, meant for commerce, and the upper floors from abobe and wood, it remains so today. Starting out as the poorest part of town, it’s obvious it always had character; the royalty chose to build their residences there, distinguished by their all stone structure and cobblestones that remain today; the beautiful church of St. Louis; the huge Plaza that remains an island of green. In recent years, until the 1970’s --- the area was known for its cheap housing, a large gay community (which until 1981 was actually illegal in Paris) and rather run down; a remnant of the revolution when the royalty was beheaded and their palaces turned into factories.

But, in what I am convinced gives a city its vitality and dynamism, it has now become re-gentrified as one of the most expensive areas to live in Paris, with beautiful upscale shops and restaurants in the original spots for commerce.

My favorite was a store called Izrael, the most beautiful spice and condiment store I’ve ever seen. I think we can be pretty sure that one thing urban dwellers of big cities will always love is the excitement of shopping and entertainment!

An interesting note: there was quite a large Jewish community from eastern Europe in the Marais before WWII. Many died in the Holocaust as one very poignant memorial told us. The Jewish street of shops of then, are now the sites of Jewish commerce of the Jews who emigrated from Algeria and Tunisia. As our guide told us, “the fish has now been replaced by falafel.”

Another interesting pattern has emerged here around public protest. We’ve seen three examples. One, at the site of the Paris Opera at the Bastille there was a large public protest of illegal workers, mostly from western Africa, demanding work permits; outside our window on weekend morning there was a group of Spaniards demanding from the Spanish embassy the right to vote in their country’s elections; and at the Marais, a group of students that had squatted in the vacant and very large residence of an elderly apartment owner, with the protest that 100,000 poor people can’t find housing in Paris, how dare she not rent her space to them!

I’ve gotten this sense that while people want their voices heard, it’s almost unheard of (until the riots of the immigrant populations that live in the outer districts of the city) that they become violent and destructive. I could be wrong, but I do sense that that the populous appreciates the culture and depth of this place and though they may be angry, respect it. Maury and I are going everywhere on the Metro. I haven’t for a moment felt uncomfortable or unsafe --- on the contrary, we’re surprised how quickly we’ve settled in and feel at home and how calm and quiet spoken people seem here.

Of course, going out to eat every evening at these unbelievable restaurants is something that would be “enough” on its own! I thought I was a decent cook until I came here! Even the “simplest” meal is Music, like Maury likes to say! Let’s put it this way ---I have saved and am scrapbooking every receipt from every restaurant we’re going to, which lists everything you just ate. When I feel like taking a break I look it over and start smiling from ear to ear. Of all of the French verb conjugations and words we are learning, these are my favorite so far: Saumon sir lit roquette (salmon with a red sauce) at the Risto Pizza Romano; couscous legumes et poulet (couscous with vegetables & chicken) at Chez Berbert, a Moroccan restaurant; the filet de hareng (herring filet) at the Allard; the gazpacho with sorbet of tomato-basil at Chez Georges; the Salade nicoise at Le Chaillot; the list goes on and on.

We also took our first day trip out of the city (about 18 miles) to Auvers-sur-Oise, a lovely city that looks the same as it did when Vincent van Gogh and other Impressionists artists such as Cezanne and Pissarro, developed this form of art. We literally walked the steps of Van Gogh’s last two months of life, when under the care of a Dr. Paul Gauchet, Van Gogh roamed the town during June and July of 1890, painting at a pace as if he was possessed, two paintings a day!

Only in his 30’s, he was sick guy with what is now considered bi-polar disease, as well as epilepsy. In any case his true genius seemed to be hyper focused at this period. The poor guy actually worked himself to death from exhaustion. He found a gun at the Ravous Inn that he was staying in, and one day snapped, trying to commit suicide in the wheat fields of one of his most famous pictures. So we walked and we talked the afternoon away, including a picnic lunch by the river, in a town unchanged since it was built. We ended our day at the wheat fields, just as they looked then. The sky was the most incredible color blue, as deep and rich as I’ve ever seen. I felt as if I could have stayed there for hours just looking and hearing the “silence.” No wonder this space has inspired so many famous artists.

That moment said so much to me about avante garde art and how important it is to support it, even if it seems strange and bizarre at the moment as may be the artist themselves. What greater expression of a person than when they create something so unique that it has never seen before? If not for the wife of his brother Theo, van Gogh’s art would never have survived; for years it was considered worthless. Now the Ravous Inn is trying to fundraise 35 million dollars (and that’s cheap --- a picture of Dr. Gauchet was sold for 85 million dollars!) to purchase just ONE picture to display in the room in the Inn where van Gogh lived and died.

That evening when Maury and I went out to dinner at around 10pm and were sitting outside at one of the countless small tables all over the sidewalks here, I looked up at the clouds and sky and there was the exact blue of Van Gogh’s pictures. There was a modern convention hall in one direction, an old stone building in another, the Seine River running by and all of these beautiful people drinking their wine, murmuring conversations in French. It feels like we've been here two months, not two weeks!

As I dug a little deeper, it turns out the Bruno Lassato (born 25 November 1932 and died on 30 September 2009), the previous resident of this apartment, was a famous French computer scientist specializing in organizations and a teacher. According to Wikipedia he was a lover of art and classical music and devoted his life to form his students through artistic encounters, and had a particular fondness for exceptional “characters” such as notable military, big bosses, nobility and heirs. He wrote prolifically on his passions of illuminations, classical music, calligraphy and photographic montage.

Maury and I literally fell into this place just as it was put on the market for rental. So we are the first recipients of this newly painted, cleaned up space. But not quite … Bruno is still here and there! What was left was a huge bound guest book signed by all of the people who came to exchange wits with him; a box of his famous collection of calligraphy pens; many of his art books and art collection. This was a typical literary salon here in Paris! How lucky we are to be in such an inspirational space, especially his office that Maury has made his own.

We’ve started our French classes in another uniquely Parisian space. The Atelier (Salon) 9 is located in the 9^th eme, is in a converted apartment with four rooms serving as a classroom and one larger meeting space. There are six others in the class from America, Italy and Australia. Four hours a day is intense, but gratifying at the end of the day to see how much we’ve learned. It’s amazing how much French we can understand after just a few days of class. Today I composed for the class a personal essay about myself. The teacher was stumped for a few minutes on how to say environmental educator in French, and everyone in the class immediately hid their plastic bottles from me, but it was a good moment of fun. Downstairs from the school is a really exotic looking Thai massage “palace” with these two sweet little Pekinese dogs named Pinot and Hugo lounging around.

The particular district where the school is located with a really interesting combination of live theaters (kind of like Soho), a plethora of synagogues (9 on my map), Jewish shops and a lot of Asian influence. Lots of kosher sushi on the menus posted outside! It seems that every meal we have is prepared with the absolute freshest ingredients. Then you walk down any block and it feels like every other store is either a bread shop, pastry shop, chocolate shop or cheese shop --- even if not to buy, incredibly beautiful just to look at. The only place I’m not so excited about is the meat shops, with these huge sides of beef hung up on the ceilings by the hoof of the animal --- what a bizarre twist for me as a lover of outdoor trails and tracking. On the trail, it’s great fun to try to identify the animal hoof or paw print you see on the trail. Here at the butcher shop or in restaurants its full leg is staring at you right in the face with the fur still attached!

We’ve enjoyed spending time in the Latin District in the evenings. The bistros there are small, intimate and each decorated with a unique décor of old posters, paintings, flyers, etc. How wild it is to be sitting at one of the small tables, listening to French swirling around us, always in view of a small bar, not much bigger than what we see in most people’s homes in Agoura. The soup, the fish and the salads that come out of these tiny kitchens is just amazing. The other evening I had a gazpacho served with a scoop of tomato basil sorbet that was absolutely out of this world. Another bistro that bills itself as the “last” Cabaret in Paris, had this lovely classical singer singing selections of Les Miserable and Porky and Bess. Then we walked down a steep set of stairs of another restaurant close by that used to be an actual stone dungeon complete with instruments of torture, a guillotine and underground passages, with musicians playing pop rock music. Tonight we are going to enjoy a classical concert in one of the many magnificent churches in the city called Eglise de la Madeleine. The last one we went to the acoustics were unbelievable. There’s such beautiful music in the background everywhere you go here. What a lovely way to be distracted!

To be continued.