Up High Going By

There are so many moments where I want to take a photograph on the way to work. I love when I turn and see something that stops me a moment to take it in; walking by, rounding a corner, down a side street, up a hill, outside the window, or across the street. Here are a few recents.

I am also often amused by the English named cafes and restaurants - similar to naming something in French to seemingly make it sound more interesting, the same thing happens here. 

High Speed Wonderment for Dummies

This week I finished up the work travel of 2013 by train. Two day trips: Geneva, Switzerland and Mannheim, Germany.  I indeed think the European rail system is incredible. The double decker from Geneva was smooth as silk.

As I was in and out of several train stations watching the displays (of which many are now digital), something occurred to me.  I recall the days (20 yrs ago) when the displays (if any) were far less sophisticated, even just posted paper schedules left to interpret, which some poor soul had to update, print, post, and manage (and dare I say clean the glass). Yes there are still many electronic schedule boards which sound like a thousand dominos falling when they change as one watches the turning of letters and numbers in stark amazement. All those destinations!

Now in many cases a track # is displayed on a TV screen in the terminal only 10-15 min prior to the train's departure time, and the displays on the platform will tell you exactly where the different sections of the train will be so you can stand there and wait accordingly (e.g. food car, 1st class cars, 2nd class car etc).  I wonder whether the advancements in technology are offset by enough new skills we and our children must learn; will our children learn to read a paper map, a posted train schedule, or a variety of other things we grown ups had to figure out in our early youth the hard way?  As a result of these improvements, often less thinking is required, less common sense, in order to navigate through situations. It reminds me simply that it is essential to find new ways to teach old lessons to today's tech marvel children. I embrace and appreciate these improvements and tuck my small paper schedule away into a dark corner of my purse, just in case.

Hello Again Germany, Bitte

I know which flight is mine, but I just can't seem to move from this spot looking at the screen - smiling to myself at this new normal.

I was in Germany a few weeks ago and back again last week. Its an unusually busy travel period for me right now, but with end in sight. On the upside, tonight I sat at dinner in the small German town of Bad Rothenfelde, with two colleagues from Romania, two from Switzerland, and myself.  I'm always a bit of the outsider in these scenarios, to which I never mind. We discussed the blessings (and challenges) of being parents, the culture of our common company, a bit on what to know about Turkish liquor, a particular lesser known but undeniably wonderful Romanian wine, and a small island off the coast of the Italian 'heel'.

Not bad for one night's conversation. Not bad at all.  Danke.

Unexpected Real Life

In our lives there are expectations; a sense of what will come next.  Every now and then, a breakdown in our expectations can do wonders to help us appreciate the good things in our life everyday, but which we don't see.  Rather, we have trained ourselves not to see.

In my travel day filled with problems - a puking child, a broken metro train, a missed flight, a different airport, no internet, no smartphone, no lunch, no time, no space (in luggage), I met this fate. There I was, standing in the uncomfortable space of frustration, suffocated by the clarity of her words, "No. The flight is closed. There is no other flight today", and I was momentarily unable to formulate thoughts with any sort of clarity of my own.

Despite the few seconds of panic which undoubtedly washed over my face and hands as I fumbled for any phone, I recognized a choice.  I might have normally let it get the best of me (and maybe even me try to get the best of her on a bad day).  But this time, I chose to stay clear, to trust in something else that I could not yet see, and to laugh at the chain of events in my day as 'real life'.

With a little help from my Robert, my taxi, my new airport, and my new flight, I still said goodbye Parigi, hello Italy, hello life - by nightfall. It's still very good to see you today.

Parigi?

Recently I traveled for work to Bologna.  I was in route to Ravenna, a small city along the Northeast coast of Italy.  What I wasn't prepared for was that my name was "Parigi".

His sign had my client's name on it, so I knew he was my driver.  Then he said to me "Parigi", and I said "no" (of course that's not my name). A few back and forth minutes of Italian-English-French fusion, and we agreed I was Parigi because of course this means "Paris" in Italian. Silly me. On we go.

As my colleagues and I headed out one evening, we talked about how remarkable it is to be in Europe where at each and every turn, there is historical significance and detail to take in. Even in Ravenna, it was once the capital city of the western roman empire. So take it in we did, over a fabulous fresh pasta meal and bottle of wine. Ciao.

Keep Taking the Photo

Despite the many airports I've been in and out of, and the equal take offs and landings, there are some things I never tire of...

At Charles de Gaulle airport, Paris, its this view up the escalator in Terminal 1. I'm like a kid every time - I can't help but look all around me on the way up, all the way up!

Then when I'm up, I can't ever get over the view at sunset. I must have a hundred photos of this same view, but I still keep taking the photo. It is one of those moments when I am feeling most alive.  Whatever your 'sunset' is, keep taking the photo.

Barcelona on my mind

I'm working in sunny Barcelona this week and as the plane flew in, I recalled how mountainous it is, how coastal it is, and how much I do really like Spain - the architecture in Barcelona is unlike any other.

Tonight a colleague and I walked in the center of town among boulevards lined with shops and restaurants, which anchored a few 'hidden' squares. It was nice to get out of the hotel and prowl around a bit, even if the smell of scented cigarettes dotted the night. My colleague spoke Spanish which was helpful, but for much of the night, I felt a slight pang of helplessness, a longing to know more Spanish than I do (which is basically nil). In a former life, I think I would have liked to have been a linguist.

As I packed last night, my kids were also preparing for my departure. Carter came in and sat on the edge of my bed as if to engage in a serious conversation. Callie came in a few min later, handed me a note, and quickly departed...

Carter: mom, so is there any chance I'm going with you on this trip?
Mom: Sorry no - not unless you fit inside this (tiny) roller bag.
Carter: I can fold. I'm foldable (or some variation of this).

Callie note to mom:  Plese can you wak me up when you leave so I can say goodbye?  Check yes/no.  Rite back.

I do love these bittersweet traveling mommy moments. Yes, I will 'rite' back.

Nine Lives en Velo

I've been riding the velib bikes to work and home the last few days (check in / check out bikes all over Paris).  Its hit or miss in the am whether or where I find one, but when I do, my most frequented route is very straight forward (literally - its straight for 5-7 min down one road, park, then walk 2 min). The bikes have a large basket on the front and are generally a bit clankety and top-heavy in design.

Since I visit different rented offices around the city for the sake of variety (today's office had a fab courtyard), I have multiple routes to learn. The route there normally isn't the route home since I have to navigate around the many one way streets. Though mornings are hectic, its really the peak end of day return that gets the adrenaline pumping. On my newer (farther away routes), its nine lives in action, with no less than:

- 1 pedestrian avoidance maneuver (not watching bike lane)
- 1 close encounter with car/bus (its a shared lane)
- 2 questionable passes by a motorbike or bicycle
- 3 missed turns, navigation snafus, or around the block redo on any of my new routes

And that's just within a 15-30 min time span!

So its exhilaration...of the best and worst kind. The busiest streets are of course the most nerve racking; small stop lights off to the side for easy misses don't help. The cars are very accommodating, obligingly making room for me to ride next to them.

I found myself today, in two instances, shimmying between one or more buses with one foot on the ground and the other on a pedal flopping along, hoping the light didn't yet turn green until I found a notch of space in which to exist there among them all. The light changed and my heart rate started racing even before I moved. I notice the more experienced riders navigate across many lanes with ease, easy will, and far more grace than I manage just yet. They never frazzle and rarely seem to stop.

The city promotes a 'what you can do with your velib' theme, and I have to laugh at the image they use; its so fitting (a woman riding with a dress and probably heels). I am still a novice but I have an annual pass, so I'm all in.

Things I See When I Walk to Work

Lately I'm walking to work a lot, which I love. Though many storefronts are closed up yet at that hour, sometimes I walk by something interesting or worthy of nabbing my phone for a pic.  Here's my walk along view of some interesting things...





Funky mannequin designs, lots of wine shops and wine in windows, beautiful stonework and architecture that looks like one big long palace (well except for the shady areas of town). Courtyards, entry alleys, everywhere stone sidewalks, and interesting furnishings (I never thought to make a lamp out of matchbox cars - goodness knows we had enough).

Of course, I'm also watching out for dog mess (what's up with people not curbing their dogs?!).  And normally most people that I pass are hurried in nature, quiet and expressionless. Some listen to music, talk on a phone, or just walk - deliberate and intentional. It is amusing to me and sometimes I think of bursting out a song or a hug to one of them just to see their reaction.

Just another day in Paris....

Velib' !

Introducing Velib'.  It is a take one / leave one bicycle system with nearly 20,000 bikes at velib stations throughout Paris. Carter and I tried it out last Sun for fun and tooled around our area of Paris for about an hour.  There are at least three stations within a block or so of our apartment.

Today I purchased a velib' ticket to bike to work. It was exhilarating and terrifying, crossing multiple lanes of traffic encircling Paris Opera, with only a bell to notify anyone of my presence. Bikers ride in the bike/bus lane which is especially unnerving when a large bus is barreling down on you. I spent equal time rerouting myself around one way roads and laughing out loud at the sheer fun of it all.

I saw riders in suits and even in short skirts (not sure how that works).  I chose pants - thanks anyway.  A large front wire basket held my laptop bag.

My best guess turns landed me at a station 2 blocks from my office to check in the bike; a big click and green light and I'm on my way.  Another day on the joyride. Go Velib'!

A Room with A View

Work life is going well in Paris. Business bound Parisians (nevermind the early bread artisans) know well the art of a leisurely morning; a later rise, a cup of coffee at a cafe, then a check in / check out rental bike with their work sac or portfolio in the front basket, or perhaps a scooter, or walk, or metro ride to their destination. I second the routine, sans the cafe stop in the am. I will try the bike option later.

After a couple weeks of trying out the different office locations around me, routes, and walking options, I've settled on a couple favorites. The offices are nice, all with massive wooden doors to heave upon entry and exit, and well equipped for my tea, water refills, desk work, and phone calls for the day.  Stepping over the tall threshold and through these massive doors sometimes feels like an Alice in Wonderland moment.

If I need an after work pit stop at a 'bio'  health food store, I go to one work location, but if I need to pick up shampoo or supplies after work at Monoprix, I go to another work location that week. I'm finding many cool spaces and places along each route - now all I have to do is remember them!  Shops all close between 7:30-8pm each night.

In my room with a view I see others working, and I can open the courtyard windows if I like or not. Its a thrill of a ride to work among Parisians.  I quite like it.

Heavy Doors and Bubbles

I ventured out to find my office over the past week, walking through the park, down 1.5 blocks and then a 15-20 min walk or 5 min metro ride to a rented office (I luv Regus). The traditional hours of 9am-6pm will take some getting used to. "Are you sure I can't get in earlier"?  Can we negotiate a key to be left in a sneaky location"?  Non. Non. D'accord. Its all part of the voucher.

This is week two and things are well in order; so much that I feel surrounded by a blessings bubble of some kind. It is the feeling of immense gratitude, and it stays within me - from the moment I rise and cross the creaky floor - to the moment I return home to heave open the enormous wooden entrance door of my building after work. I breathe it in and out throughout the day; for anyone who helped, and everyone who showed me the possibilities. Knowing I am living out one of my dreams is just pure gold; knowing I am doing it WITH my family leaves me (nearly) speechless.

A Park to Call Home

A "park" in Paris often has grass. A "square" often does not. We overlook a square. Our square is lively. From the first time we opened the tall windows in our living room, it cemented our feeling of belonging. It still elicits this feeling every time we open them. That is the Paris sound and flow.

The kids quickly rounded the square on their scooters, we wrangled through phone / internet set up and trips to find needed sheets and towels, and my Robert found his nearby Starbucks.

All is quite well in Tennysonville. Now I must get back to work!

Paris 75009

Bienvenue a Paris. It is what the sign said as I took in a breath of dampened air on the street. I did it! I am - and we are - actually here. We arrived to our apartment easily. It had been months of planning, hours of painstaking preparation, and many sleepless nights in the land of scenario thinking. Relief? Excitement? Fatigue? Anticipation? Contentment? Who knows - too many thoughts meshed together to sort through them clearly just yet. It was dreamy fatigue and surrealism at one of its finest hours in my life.

The apartment pleasantly surprised everyone and we quickly began to sort and space our minimal things. It feels like a traditional Paris apartment - tall ceilings, tall windows (some with elaborate latches), and herringbone wooden floors that creak enough to drive you fantastically mad. There are doors which lead to other doors in the living room, and some of the doors or knobs don't quite close. All in all it is entirely lovely for us.

Yes....it is Bienvenue indeed. My work would wait. I wanted to relish this day.

Breeze Out

We are getting used to island life. Despite a busy day on conference calls for hours (I love skype calling), I did so with a view of the island hills and the waves. Today we opened all the windows and the back door and something magical happened - MORE breeze flowed through and we suddenly "got it". 

We see all the doors and windows open all day long and into the night - such an immense trust exists among islanders in the area of St. Barts where we are staying. We are nestled among a large family which has been on the island for generations - long before it became a "place to be".  The nephews, brothers, sisters, and father of our 'host' family are all steps away from the front door.

Everyday there is a new discovery.  Today the kids found a starfish with dad, Carter navigated the roadmap to explore new beaches, and we enjoyed our creative dinner served up with a light breeze and a fading sunset surrounding us. 

In the evenings I stand in the doorway. I hear the waves roll onto shore, watch the water glisten among an outline of small fishing boats, and notice the beacon of boat lights which flash periodically in the distance. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close eyes. Goodnight islanders. I already miss it and I'm not even gone.

Hello Ocean Friend

Despite a rough seas arrival, we arrived in what would be our Corossol, St. Barts (St. Barth) home and my work base every morning for the next three weeks. We settled in, scouted out, and established our new routines within the day. No toilet paper in the toilet-check. Flying bugs belong here-check. Island breeze and heat by day, AC by night-check. Upon arrival, we had a visitor in Carter's room, the size of my hand. We were almost sad to see him go and in our haste to return him from where he came, we only have a mediocre photo to tell the tale.

This morning I awoke early and began to organize how I would work. Since office and adult sleeping space is upstairs, its the perfect arrangement to go unnoticed in the early hours. 

In St. Barts, the roads can be steep, mostly narrow, and often lined with stone walls enabling you to hug a corner - round we go.  Sometimes there's a cliff to your left or right - best not to let it bother you. There are many beaches to discover and everywhere the water gorgeous. I'm armed with  no less than seven varieties of sunscreen. In the main towns, the yachts are evident, perhaps visitors for a day or week.  From the house, the view downstairs is every bit Caribbean and local flavor. I wonder how easy it is to balance a laptop on a hammock. I might try that tomorrow.