Dear readers, just a thought or two here before I eat. I have some pork chops braising in a tomato sauce on the stove, and I am about to watch the rest of a movie.
I didn't write today. Well, not technically. I did make some index cards for the next eight to ten beats coming up in the next scene of Oui Madame. Yesterday I finished what looks like scene 10. Onward tomorrow.
I wrote the cards while doing my laundry, which, although it sounds mundane, was a remarkable milestone for me today. Today marks the beginning of my thrid week here in Paris, and for the first time, I am starting to feel just a tiny bit comfortable. If that sounds like an exaggeration, it is not. Each day, I have had to face the uncertainty of where to be, what to eat, what to say. Each day has brought some progress on those fronts.
I know where I live. I know whether to turn right or left when I leave my building. That was the start. Then, I found a grocery store. The first one I found was a Franprix, just up the street. There I bought some of the basics on my first day, butter, salt, pepper and food for a couple of days and nights, some ham, can of tomatoes,a couple of pork chops and some hamburger meat. I also bought a six pack of beer (Heineken seems to be the cheapest) and a bottle of tequila. Hmmm, San Jose. Never heard of it, and it may not even be tequila, but it seems to work. Last week, I learned that the Monprix has the better prices and more selection. The I found a bigger Monoprix on the Boulevard Bonnes Nouvelles, just a block away. Little by little, I am learning my neighborhood.
Now I know, sophisticated Parisians and ex-pats 'know' that you have to have a favorite set of shops: boulangerie, boucher, primeur, epicierie, fromager, charcuterie, etc. But so far, and it's just been two weeks, Ihave found it easier to shop at one of these little (by American standards) grocery stores.
As an American, I am used to things coming in packages, so it's not all that weird, and, other than meat and produce, most of the things I needed right away were more practical: dish soap, hand soap, shampoo, toilet paper, paper towels, etc. I needed all the spices, but so far I have only four: salt, pepper, garlic and fine herbs. I'll add to the collection as I go.
I have found a favorite boulangerie, and have been there enough times to warrant a smile of recognition. The bread is fantastic and the croissants (au beurre) are delightful--I have to be careful not to crush it on the way back to my apartment, it's so light and luscious. The baguettes are perfect of course, and cheap, just 1 euro. One baguette lasts me two days, with Bon Maman cherry jam and butter in the morning, and with Nutella for dessert that night.
My next shop to frequent will be a charcuterie, but so far I haven't found one that I like nearby. I bought some packaged pate at the grocery store the first week but it was so bad I could not eat it. I want the real deal, and I will find it soon enough.
My first efforts have been to find myself in the neighborhood. I want to be able to walk in any direction for a few blocks and know where I am and how to get back. Then, I will gradually widen the circle and travel to some more distant spots.
I've been to the Canal St.Martin, a delightful place where I had lunch on a sunny Sunday. I thinkit was in week two that I finally ventured down to the Seine, down the Boulevard de Sebastopol, all the way to Chatelet and finally the Seine. It was beautiful, of course, the kind of deep green that comes with the late summer sun--in a few weeks it will be dark and grey.
I went down to the Seine again today, this time all the way down the Rue St Denis. This time I crossed the river. I walked across Cite, past the Palais de Justice and Ste Chapelle, ending up walking along the upper part to the Pont Neuf, past the fake booksellers where all the tourists stop to get that authentic Parisian souvenir. They also sell Eiffel towers six sizes and three colors. Sigh.
I headed back north again, toward that part of Paris I call home, the part that seems separated from all the tourism, though I know that's an illusion because I often hear English and German. And after all, I am just another tourist, here for a few months, not for a lifetime. But when I get to my street, I start to feel at home. I at least recognize the shops, the vendors and some of the waiters in the cafes--there's no connection other than in my head.
So that is why today, going to the laundry was so important. It marked another step in my attempt to create a routine, a pattern that will ease my fear and give me the strength I need to keep writing.
I didn't write today. Well, not technically. I did make some index cards for the next eight to ten beats coming up in the next scene of Oui Madame. Yesterday I finished what looks like scene 10. Onward tomorrow.
I wrote the cards while doing my laundry, which, although it sounds mundane, was a remarkable milestone for me today. Today marks the beginning of my thrid week here in Paris, and for the first time, I am starting to feel just a tiny bit comfortable. If that sounds like an exaggeration, it is not. Each day, I have had to face the uncertainty of where to be, what to eat, what to say. Each day has brought some progress on those fronts.
I know where I live. I know whether to turn right or left when I leave my building. That was the start. Then, I found a grocery store. The first one I found was a Franprix, just up the street. There I bought some of the basics on my first day, butter, salt, pepper and food for a couple of days and nights, some ham, can of tomatoes,a couple of pork chops and some hamburger meat. I also bought a six pack of beer (Heineken seems to be the cheapest) and a bottle of tequila. Hmmm, San Jose. Never heard of it, and it may not even be tequila, but it seems to work. Last week, I learned that the Monprix has the better prices and more selection. The I found a bigger Monoprix on the Boulevard Bonnes Nouvelles, just a block away. Little by little, I am learning my neighborhood.
Now I know, sophisticated Parisians and ex-pats 'know' that you have to have a favorite set of shops: boulangerie, boucher, primeur, epicierie, fromager, charcuterie, etc. But so far, and it's just been two weeks, Ihave found it easier to shop at one of these little (by American standards) grocery stores.
As an American, I am used to things coming in packages, so it's not all that weird, and, other than meat and produce, most of the things I needed right away were more practical: dish soap, hand soap, shampoo, toilet paper, paper towels, etc. I needed all the spices, but so far I have only four: salt, pepper, garlic and fine herbs. I'll add to the collection as I go.
I have found a favorite boulangerie, and have been there enough times to warrant a smile of recognition. The bread is fantastic and the croissants (au beurre) are delightful--I have to be careful not to crush it on the way back to my apartment, it's so light and luscious. The baguettes are perfect of course, and cheap, just 1 euro. One baguette lasts me two days, with Bon Maman cherry jam and butter in the morning, and with Nutella for dessert that night.
My next shop to frequent will be a charcuterie, but so far I haven't found one that I like nearby. I bought some packaged pate at the grocery store the first week but it was so bad I could not eat it. I want the real deal, and I will find it soon enough.
My first efforts have been to find myself in the neighborhood. I want to be able to walk in any direction for a few blocks and know where I am and how to get back. Then, I will gradually widen the circle and travel to some more distant spots.
I've been to the Canal St.Martin, a delightful place where I had lunch on a sunny Sunday. I thinkit was in week two that I finally ventured down to the Seine, down the Boulevard de Sebastopol, all the way to Chatelet and finally the Seine. It was beautiful, of course, the kind of deep green that comes with the late summer sun--in a few weeks it will be dark and grey.
I went down to the Seine again today, this time all the way down the Rue St Denis. This time I crossed the river. I walked across Cite, past the Palais de Justice and Ste Chapelle, ending up walking along the upper part to the Pont Neuf, past the fake booksellers where all the tourists stop to get that authentic Parisian souvenir. They also sell Eiffel towers six sizes and three colors. Sigh.
I headed back north again, toward that part of Paris I call home, the part that seems separated from all the tourism, though I know that's an illusion because I often hear English and German. And after all, I am just another tourist, here for a few months, not for a lifetime. But when I get to my street, I start to feel at home. I at least recognize the shops, the vendors and some of the waiters in the cafes--there's no connection other than in my head.
So that is why today, going to the laundry was so important. It marked another step in my attempt to create a routine, a pattern that will ease my fear and give me the strength I need to keep writing.
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