Fan Mail

Imagine my surprise; people are actually reading this journal! I have been so happy to receive over a dozen emails from all over the land, telling me that my (mis)adventures are fun (and funny) to read. And the words of encouragement have been deeply appreciated. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! It’s been a very hard 6 weeks; actually, it’s been a hard five months. This is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The little victories mean so much, but it’s hard sometimes to deal with all the misunderstandings, missed opportunities and my lack of efficiency. Just once I’d like to find something the first (or second) place I look. I’m told this discouragement in normal around this time, so I’m trying to not be too down. But I promised to tell you everything – the good, the bad, and the ugly – so here it the yuk.

Yesterday it was sunny, there was thunder and lightening; it hailed (pea-size) and then there was a downpour. Then snow was mixed in with the rain. All in the span of two hours! Today it’s Valentine’s Day, and seeing all the Parisian men carrying huge bouquets of roses made me smile. My friend, Sarah H. and I decided to make our own celebration – no boys for either of us this year – and hung out at a cute Bastille brasserie. It was nice and casual. Next year, I’m getting one of those bouquets! HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

Peanut Butter & Jelly

In my continuing assimilation in Paris, something was missing. Sure, I miss Target (still!) and there are lots of little things that remind me I’m not home. But there are things, customs, gestures that I love more every day I’m here. But something was missing. My friend, Cynthia sent me a package containing creamy Skippy Peanut Butter. I then proceeded to have the most delicious, most decadent peanut butter and jelly sandwich on toasted fresh French bread! If that is not the best of both world’s someone tell me what is! Cynthia, I bow down and thank you for making my Friday the best! Now, if I could get these people to sell Apple Jacks, I’m never leaving!

I walked down the Champs-Élysées today, in order to meet a potential new language partner (the loss of my stipend made my French tutor too expensive!). I was reminded again the glorious majesty of Paris (even while admitting I hate this world’s most famous street – it’s too commercial, too filled with people, and just too…). My meeting was an interesting reminder of the different ways that men and women relate to each other here, versus in the States. Remember, part of living here is re-learning all the things you spent a lifetime learning at home. Sometimes the learning curve is steep; other times, it’s a mere puddle to jump over.

One of the main words I’d use in all situations is the need to seduce; there is a subtle seduction that goes on here: from the grocer, to the baker to the candlestick maker. If you do it well, things are much easier. Or perhaps, it is like the old saying: God looks out for children and idiots. And I ain’t no kid! Whatever it is, I find the art of learning how to seduce a lofty ambition. I’ll let you know what happens!! Let’s just say that for now, I get great produce!

Finding a Bra if you have Breasts!

Shopping in Paris is an intimidating process all around. The prospect of shopping if you are a woman of size can be even more daunting. But, I am happy to report, that bigger sizes do exist here, and one of the most important “dream” items – lingerie – is well within your reach (your budget may be another story)! After all, wearing some killer set of undies can change your life: you walk differently, and let’s face it, how many of you haven’t worn a wicked smile when wearing something lacy underneath your clothes? Since I've lost weight here, I have been bouncing around in bras two sizes too big. Might work when you're 16, but at 42, I don't recommend it! So before the semi-annual sales ended, I figured I'd better get to it!

I entered Laur Sokol, a cozy boutique near the Marais (84, rue François Miron; they have a total of five stores throughout Paris). The two saleswomen – both smiling and deadly serious immediately put me at ease. I explained – in my broken French – that I was American, and had no idea of my French size. For those of us who have heard horror stories about French customer service, these two missed the memo. I became a science project! Escorted into a room, I was handed a total of 40 bras in one and one-half hours! After three attempts, they determined my size. From there, it was a question of trying on the sexiest, most ornate and the most decadent bras imaginable. And make no mistake; some of the prices reflected that splendor (although they went out of their way to find sale items for me – and there were dozens of beautiful ones to choose from – broke student, remember)! At the end of my odyssey, I found three of the best-fitting and most comfortable bras I’ve ever worn. One caused me to squeal (yes, squeal) with glee and blurt, “I must have this bra in order to live!” When was the last time that happened?

So, next time you see me on the Métro, I’ll be wearing a wicked grin, secure in the knowledge that I am wearing the most glorious underwear in Paris. Laur Sokol also sells gorgeous panties in sizes up to 3x, but that’s another story . . . .