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.