Unexpected chivalry

Last night I went out for drinks with my roommate Benjamin and his friend Benjamin (apparently every French male around the age of 28 is named Benjamin) who just moved back from Rome and is “squatting” in our apartment for a week. We ended up at this tiny little bar off of rue Oberkampf that turned out to be a literary party celebrating a book launch. And apparently the DJ was super famous—the guys were all in a tizzy over him, though I couldn’t for the life of me tell you who he was.

Just after I arrived, the publisher of the book randomly came over, kissed my hand and started chatting me up. Turns out he also used to live in the East Village in New York but moved back to Paris after 9/11. He was interesting but physically not my type (late 30s-early 40s, short, blond hair/blue eyes). After 15 mins a woman came over to talk to him about a manuscript he just submitted so I snuck off to rejoin my friends. Later, the publisher popped over to quietly ask me if Benjamin was my boyfriend—I said no, he said good—but I eventually lost him in the crowd. Looking back on it, I should have given him my number; he would be a cool person to know, especially considering that I’ve been working on some writing projects lately. Oh well…

Around midnight Benjamin’s girlfriend, her best friend and another guy joined us. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and bumped into a cute guy on his way out. We did the whole smiley, double take thing and when I came back he was talking to RomeBen. I walked over to join them but quickly realized the cute guy was drunk, sleazy and slightly stupid. At some point he said something to me in French and though I didn’t understand the slang, I got that the context was sexual. RomeBen looked at him sharply and said, “Come on, don’t say stuff like that. I think you need apologize to her”. So the guy apologized and the three of us continued chatting. And then the interesting part of the night began:

Sleazy guy: “So where are you from?”

Me: “New York City.”

Sleazy guy: “No, I mean where were you born?”

Me: “Oh, I was born in Washington, D.C.”

Sleazy guy: “No, come on. Really. You're from Senegal, aren't you? Or Mali?”

Sigh. This is the thing that annoys the hell out of me about the French (some French people, I don’t mean to generalize). If you’re not white you’re not really considered French (or American in this case). If you’re black you can only be from Africa or the West Indies, there’s no way you can be anything else. I understand that it has to do with the fact that France only recently got an influx of post-war immigrants and they’re just now dealing with racial issues. And to be fair, most of the non-white people living here really are foreign-born or first generation French. You’d be hard pressed to find a black person in France who’s familial line goes back more than one generation within France. But not so in the States. The funny thing is, my parents were born in Haiti and moved to the States in their late teens/early 20s so I am in fact a first-generation American (and I happen to very much identify with being Haitian, possibly more so than American, since I was brought up with Haitian food, language, music, culture, etc) BUT it was the principle of the matter. This asshole was insisting that because I was black, I could not be American. Sure we’re all African, but for many black Americans, how the heck do you know which country your ancestors came from 300 years ago?

Anyway, as I’m about to open my mouth to set the guy straight, I notice RomeBen tensing up next to me. He steps in front of me, gets in this guy's face and says, "Didn't she tell you 5 times that she's American??" then proceeds to go off on him in French!

Now a little background on RomeBen: This guy did his undergrad in Engineering at one of Paris’ most prestigious Grandes Écoles (basically the French version of the Ivy Leagues) then went on to get his Master’s and PhD from MIT in Boston. During the day he wears his little glasses and works on his computer, quiet as a mouse. He’s not pretentious or anything (I didn’t even know the details of his schooling until last night). He’s very polite and friendly, timid even. In his 6 years in the States he sort of picked up a general idea of how far black people have come; to be accepted and be able to claim the privileges that come along with being American. But this is not someone who you could ever imagine in a million trillion years saying the words: “We can take this outside.” But he did! He said those exact words! OMG.

By this point Sleazy Guy is cowering on his stool (meanwhile he was easily half a foot taller than RomeBen) and one of his friends, trying to pacify RomeBen, apologizes and says that his friend is a little drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying. I couldn’t tell you what RomeBen was saying, I was too busy staring at him in shock, wondering what happened to the shy little geek who had spent the past 4 days hunched behind his laptop in my living room. Finally I put my arm around him, gently pulled him back and said, “Shall we go?” And he stopped, gave the guy one last dirty look and we walked out of the bar. It was intense. And to be honest with you, also extremely sexy… it’s awesome watching a guy defending your honor.

After that episode I looked at him in a completely different light. We joined the rest of the group outside then jumped in a cab and went back to the apartment. The 4 of us hung out in the kitchen drinking tea and talking until Benjamin and his girlfriend went to bed. And then RomeBen asked me if I wanted to take our conversation into the living room (since Benjamin’s room is right near the kitchen) and we ended up talking until 3am.

He’s such a contraction—this adorable and super smart science nerd who gets really excited explaining molecular physics (still completely over my head) but values quality of life over work, loves to travel and live in foreign countries and will throw down if you get on his bad side. But alas, he has a girlfriend back in Rome. She’s coming to visit in a week or so and he said he wants to introduce us. I bet she’s sweet and wonderful and we’ll probably get on great so let me just shut my homewrecking mouth right now… :)

Update: This afternoon RomeBen and I were both in the living room, he was working and I was folding my laundry when he got up and left the room without saying a word. Suddenly I heard classical piano music. I thought he turned the radio on or something but when I walked down the hall to investigate I found him playing away (my roommate has an upright in his room). I had my own personal 10 minute performance. If I wasn't smitten before I may be now!

The casual wedding

Heading to Ardeché in few hours (in the South of France) for my girl E’s wedding. E & J are the coolest couple, I absolutely adore them—very fun, down-to-earth, artsy (they’re filmmakers). They’re all about having a good time and going with the flow, which I guess is why we clicked immediately. The wedding is on Saturday but a few close friends are driving down early for a Thursday night pre-party: “Olympic Games” (i.e. three-legged races, soccer, swimming in the lake, etc) and a BBQ. E’s parents own a house in a tiny village; the ceremony will take place at the Mairie (town hall) followed by a reception in their backyard. The guest count is around 200 people and we’ll be eating, drinking and dancing under the stars until the wee hours of the morning. They’re not big into weddings so they made it a laid back affair—E described it as a big 3-day party for their friends & family, with a quick pop over to Mairie at some point to get the wedding stuff out of the way (LOVE that!). At one point, I was wondering aloud which heels would work best with my dress and E said, “Just come barefoot!” (she was dead serious). Truth be told, I’m especially looking forward to mingling with the guests. Weddings are a great place to meet men right? ;)

Back on Monday night with (hopefully) some interesting stories!

A Thin Line...

Interesting situation of being surprised by the unthinkable coming true, life lessons, etc.
As mentioned, my cousin is in town visiting for 3 weeks—let’s call her Fox. It’s Saturday night and my neighbor friend asked if we could all go out for drinks. She had friends visiting from Tokyo and since she’s new to the city, she didn’t know where to go. So I took them all to Café Charbon and we chatted till around 1am, at which point the Japanese girls were tired and decided to call it a night. After leaving them, Fox and I went to my new favorite hangout (which happens to be across the street from my apt)—a divey little bar with a really nice, cute bartender, friendly hipster crowd, and a DJ who plays music way too loud and forces all the patrons to drink in mass out on the sidewalk. Around 1:45am I get a call from Grapes asking what I was up to. I told him I was having a drink and he responds, “Ok, I’ll see you in 45 seconds or 45 minutes”. He shows up about a minute later, just as the bar is closing. The bartender gives us VIP passes for Nouveau Casino so we head over, but decided to go back to Café Charbon and have drinks instead of going to the club.
And for the next couple of hours, Fox, Grapes and I are all laughing and joking, having a good time discussing everything from dating in Paris to being black in America. In typical Grapes fashion, he’s being inappropriate and crazy and I find it completely hilarious.
After a couple drinks, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and when I came back what do I find: Fox and Grapes making out. Interesting... especially considering that she knows all the intricate details of the Grapes Saga and we’ve discussed the situation and my feelings ad nauseum… Oh, but it doesn’t end there folks. After the cloud of awkwardness lifts, we realize its 4:30am and probably a good time to head home. Fox makes a quick detour to the bathroom while Grapes and I wait outside. He’s giving me the funny eye and asking me if I’m angry. He’s all like, “Don’t be angry. You're the one with the boyfriend, blah blah blah” and gives me a hug. Naturally I laugh it off like it’s the biggest joke I ever heard, “Me angry? What for?”.
So we walk the 3 blocks back to my apartment while Grapes keeps asking me when I’m getting married and how B is doing. We reach my building and as I turn to walk inside Grapes is like, “Wait a minute. I want to take Fox for a little walk”. Oh really now? That little walk turned into the walk of shame when Fox stumbled in around 10am the next morning…
After leaving them I was pissed. I waited to hear her knock on the door so I could give her a piece of my mind. So I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t show up till the next morning b/c it gave me some breathing room to gain a bit of perspective (don't get me wrong, I'm still annoyed. Just not in the neck-roll, curse a bitch out kinda way).
Thing is, it’s not even like Grapes held any real significance for me, it’s more the principal of the situation. I guess part of it is that I’ve been enjoying this little flirtatious dance we’ve been doing for the past year. The other part could be chalked up to simple wounded pride with a little slice of betrayal thrown in for good measure. I mean, my cousin? Really? Grapes is the type to screw a random girl every night, I get that and it doesn’t faze me in the least. But in all honestly, where do friends/family draw the line on what is acceptable? When is a guy off limits? Are you allowed to lay claim to someone else when you already have a boyfriend? Personally, I think a friend should respect the line. If said guy is potential boyfriend material, then by all means go for it and see what could develop (I’ve had a friend who ended up marrying her friend’s ex-boyfriend)—you’re allowed a free pass and true romance wins out over a little crush. But hurt your family for a casual fu*k? Low blow. There are too many random guys you could pick up instead for that to be ok.
Oh well. On the flip side, at least now I can stop entertaining any silly delusions about what could be…

I [Heart] NY

B and I first started discussing New York about a month into our relationship but I never seriously thought we would make it to the point where we’d be taking a trip to my hometown together. I didn’t think we’d see out the month, let alone still be together 8 months later. Even when we bought our tickets (about 3 months in advance) I was thinking up a contingency plan after our inevitable breakup. Needless to say, 8 months came and went and we were soon off to spend 2 weeks in the States—10 days in New York (alternating between 2 friends’ apartments) with 5 days in Maryland in between to visit my parents. B’s excitement about New York was too cute. He lives and breathes hip hop and couldn’t wait to walk the streets of idols. He’s seen every New York-based movie and was determined to retrace the steps of his favorite films. He said to me, “After I see New York, I can die happy” and I remember having the same feeling once upon a time. My relationship with New York goes through waves and lulls—even with the conscious knowledge that I lived in the greatest city in the world, just as often as not, I felt fed up, exhausted, stressed out and annoyed with the place. I never walked across the Brooklyn Bridge or climbed to the top of the Empire State Building. I talked sh*t and complained about everything b/c that’s what we do. Sure, the view of the Manhattan skyline always made me smile, but I forgot about that particular giddy, child-like enthusiasm that the city can make you feel until B arrived and reminded me. I was excited to experience New York with him, to show him my world.
And we had the most amazing time. It was exhausting and way too short. We didn’t get to see everything I wanted to see/do, but B got a small taste of my amazing city and naturally, fell in love with it. I loved that he was so eager to go out and explore. To take it upon himself to wake up early to pickup donuts and coffee everyday for breakfast while I slept in. I loved his excitement at seeing an old-fashioned ice cream truck. I loved that he was so un-New York as to actually start conversations with strangers in the street from sheer curiosity.

And in Maryland was just chill. I let him sit in my favorite chair to watch TV, we hung out at the mall I spent my adolescence in, swam in the pool and just relaxed with old friends and family. And my mother ADORED him. Naturally, being the Haitian mother that she is, she showed her acceptance by trying to suffocate him with food every 2 seconds. But she noticed all the little things (his manners, how he takes care of me, how well he treats me) and said, “That’s a good man—you better not let him get away”.
Growing up as an only child, the only deep interactions I had with people who weren’t my blood family was with friends. As with many other people, my friends became my family. Granted, I have lots of friends and not all of them hold the same amount of weight as others, but each person is significant for one reason or another. So the biggest thing to me was being able to introduce the man I love to the people who matter the most to me—I wanted them to love him as much as I do.
But I forgot that at the end of the day, B is pretty shy. That he’s not Mr. Life of the Party around strangers and isn’t the easiest person to get to know. I forgot that in a group of Americans speaking rapid-fire English in a loud crowded bar he can’t always keep up. I didn’t know what would happen when I took B out of his element. I expected him to just be able to jump in, stand his ground and be instantly comfortable in the middle of the silly, familiar banter that I’d developed with people after years of friendship. And I mistakenly thought that my friends would instantly see in him what I see. And although people had a chance to meet him briefly, I didn’t give many people the chance to get to KNOW him one-on-one and therefore, it was hard for most of my friends to form an opinion about him. With me, he’s B. He’s not perfect and he drives me crazy at times. He tells stupid jokes. He insists on his jeans and t-shirts. He gets moody and sullen and French on me at times, but my heart still skips a beat when I see his face. He is sweet and adorably awkward, gentle and so fragile. Why God put us together is beyond me, but between him and me, it just works. B is just about my polar opposite but he makes me happy.
But does he fit into my world? At the end of this wonderful year in Paris, would I be able to pack him up, bring him to New York and seamlessly integrate him into my life? That is the big question I was left with. Maybe it’s not meant to be as simple as that, but for a girl who is rarely without her friends, I cannot imagine having to try to split my time between B and my friends b/c they don’t care to get along. My boyfriend and my friends—we have to ALL be one family. As deeply as I love a man, I could not give up my friends for any one person—and I don’t know if I could deal with him not loving them as much as I do.
On the flip side, I’m still evolving and growing. Oprah said she didn’t truly know who she was until she turned 50. This is my first real relationship so I’m still figuring out how things work. Add to that the fact that we fell in love under unique circumstances and I didn’t have the normal springboard of opinion from my friends from Day 1 (whether that is a good or bad thing is debatable). I don’t know if my concerns are valid or just a bunch of rubbish that doesn’t matter at the end of the day. About 8 weeks till I leave Paris (GOD!) so only time will tell…

B's Birthday Dinner

On Saturday night we celebrated B’s 24^th birthday. First off, a milestone: now, the fashion girl in me kicks in every once in a while, and even though B dresses much better than the average man (he is European after all), he hates to shop and I always think to myself, ‘If I see that boy in a t-shirt, jeans and All-Star Converse's one more time I just may scream’. Sheepishly, he mentions that he’s thinking of doing a little shopping that afternoon—he needs new work clothes and wants something new to wear for his birthday that night. I’m elated but I try not to show it so he doesn’t get scared off… for some reason he has this wild idea that I’m a crazy shopaholic and is scared to enter any stores with me (ok true, but so unfair). We head over to Les Halles to hit up H&M, Zara and a couple other European discount fashion chains.

I drag him through the stores and hold up vests, pink sweaters, blazers, skinny jeans (not too skinny!) and ties—lots of trendy but classic and mature pieces that would look fantastic on him. He practically shouts at me, “Stop trying to dress me like ‘The Swede’. I’m not your gay friend”. So I back off just a bit and coax him into a compromise. We bought a few white button-down dress shirts, properly fitting dress slacks, some sweaters/cardigans that can be dressed up or down… and my biggest accomplishment: I made him graduate from colorfully printed boxers to neutral-colored boxer briefs. After he stopped complaining about never being able to father children, he agreed that they weren’t so bad.

After a quick lunch, we split up. Went home to get showered & dressed and then he went to meet his friends for pre-dinner drinks while I went to Café Oz, a central Aussie bar, to meet my Man United buddy to watch the Arsenal match.

B came and picked me up with his friends around 8:30pm and we headed to Los Mexicanos, a theme restaurant with live music and dancing. 15 of us (10 of his friends, 3 of mine) ate [bad] mexican, drank tons of margaritas, I bought him a rose from the vendor and we all danced until around 1am. The night was a lot of fun—and it was so cute to see him so happy, the life of the party. He said it was the best birthday he’s had in a long while… he doesn’t usually celebrate his birthday but I kept bothering him about how loser-ish that was till he finally decided to plan something.

(he got a Lorie music video DVD, France's Britney Spears, as a gag gift)

Oh, and I chipped in with his 3 best friends and bought him top-of-the-line rollerblades. He laughed b/c he’d never thought of rollerblading but said he’s looking forward to testing it out—in a private secluded neighborhood, away from the guys he plays basketball with at his local park. Personally, my idea was to get him a 6-month subscription to Glowria (France’s new version of Netflix) b/c he just bought a new flat-screen TV and DVD player and he’s a huge movie buff… but I figured I’d acquiesce and go with their choice since they’ve known him longer/better. I’m happy to report that he kept saying that my gift idea was fantastic and he would have loved to get that instead. Oh well, looks like B and I will be skating through the streets of Paris together this spring! :o)

The End of Rock...

Can’t believe I forgot to mention this (it must have been because I’ve been on my deathbed for the last 3 weeks, bronchitis/asthma): THE ROCKER IS GONE. He finally did it. Packed up and left Paris for Shanghai. He’s been talking about moving to China since I first met him and he finally found himself a job out there. While I was in Tunisia, I got a call from him saying, “Come have a drink with me! I’m moving to China next weekend!” And of course I’m like, “OMG! Nooo! You can’t go!” And he was like, “Ok, stop it. No time for crying now, I gotta run” lol, he’s such a jerk, I love him!

Anyway, his farewell party was 2 weeks ago at a tiny bar near my apt. B was there too—his best friend is good friends with the Rocker. I was a bit nervous b/c all of the Rocker’s friends (the cute French boys that I’ve come to know from house parties, clubs and such) would be there—and since I’m never with B, they always take the liberty of acting really flirty/touchy-feely with me. We dance, play drinking games, that kind of thing. It’s all in good fun of course; just not the kind of fun I’d like to have in front of the bf… and there are a couple who have asked me out. Plus, I know what the Rocker is like and all our silly flirting is just how our [strictly platonic] relationship works. I just didn’t want him to say anything stupid in front of B.

But of course, he does it. In front of everyone, in front of B, he gives me a big, long hug and bisous and says, “I love you, my darling. If I could, I would marry you. And that’s no New York bullsh*t”, looks at me for a couple seconds, rubs my cheek and walks away. And I’m just like, uhh… and peek over at B out of the corner of my eye and he’s shaking his head and has this slight smirk on his face. Not sure what that meant…

Then, throughout the night, all of the Rocker’s friends came over to say hello, give me a hug & bisous, chat or try to get me to dance and I would make a point of immediately saying, “This is my boyfriend B” so they wouldn’t say/do anything foolish. The funniest reply I got from one of the boys was: “Wow, your bf is really good looking”. B’s only comment about the whole thing was a tight-lipped, “Well, you have a lot of friends here… how do you know these guys?” He’s a good boyfriend.

Anyway, I’m really sad the Rocker is gone! Apparently he was hanging out with Eva & Julien the night before the party. And at the party Eva told me, “The Rocker really loves you. He was talking about you all night”. He really is a sweetheart. Aside from the drugs, sex-craziness, ADD, insanity he’s an amazing person. He introduced me to some amazing, lifelong friends, he nearly got me arrested, he took me to some really fun parties… and I could always count on him for a phone call at midnight on a Wednesday screaming, “What are you doing?! Sleeping?! Get the fu*k up and come meet me at this bar!” lol, he is an original, that’s for sure—it’s so funny that our first night together would turn into this great friendship. Saying our goodbyes that night, the Rocker told me I have to stop by China and see him when I do my Southeast Asia trip this fall (yes, I'm going backpacking for a couple months, more on that later)… maybe I will! Me and the Rocker partying in Shanghai, now that would be one for the storybooks!

More Wine...

Had an interesting evening with Grapes last night… I was cramming for my 3-hour French final with a couple classmates at Starbucks and I get a call from Grapes saying, “Hey, want to come over and help me finish my wine?” After 3 hours of straight studying, all I wanted was alcohol (free being even better) so I said sure. I showed up at his loft around 9pm to find a full-on house party. Apparently, his last wine tasting class was full of cute, blond, southern American college girls in town on holiday so he invited them to stay after and drink more wine with him. Naturally, there are 3 girls on top of his bar dancing to “Crank That” by Souljah Boy and a few more girls grinding together in the corner… nice. Gotta love American college girls (French girls would be mortified)!

Anyway, we’re all hanging out in his place, drinking, dancing (minus myself) and chatting. They actually turned out to be sweet so the night wasn’t a complete nightmare—it was actually a lot of fun. We ended the night with more drinks at Favela Chic. Around midnight, we left the bar and Grapes offered to walk me home. He put his friend in a cab and we walked to my apartment and the discussion turned to B… more about my needing to break up with him and date other people. At one point he told me that he wanted someone too so I should find him a girlfriend and I said, “No, I quite like you being single” and he said, “Right, so I can wait for you”. I was a bit tipsy :o) Strange thing: it turns out that we’ll both be in New York at the same time. He’s going to be in NYC for business in a couple weeks and it just so happens that it’s the same week that I’m there… can’t wait to hang out with him on my turf.

Today, B and I had lunch and he asked me what I did last night so I told him I hung out with Grapes… he was not happy. Particularly after I mentioned that we would be in New York at the same time. Ah well… I just learned that Mr. B and his “friendly neighbor” were hanging out again the night before. Not sure if I’ve mentioned her before, but this is the girl who lives across the hall from him. The one who was looking at me crooked the night B and I kissed for the first time; every time I spoke to him she would give me the evil stare and I assumed she was his girlfriend… turns out she’s just a very friendly neighbor. Anyway, she likes to stop by his place at 2am to ask for help moving a heavy piece of furniture or ask for aspirin. Who, pray tell, knocks on someone’s door at 2am to ask for casual favors? Needless to say, I don’t trust the bit*h. So maybe this was my way of kind of getting back at B (in a completely subconscious way, of course)… totally immature and stupid, I know…

New Year's Eve Celebrations... Paris-style

Had a really nice New Year's Eve... this year I decided I wasn't going to go too crazy about finding the perfect party, the perfect outfit, making it the perfect night. I just wanted to celebrate living in France and bring in the New Year with the people who have helped make this experience what it is so far. First stop was my copine Anne-Cecile's new apartment on Faubourg Saint-Antoine. She invited about 20 people to her place and we drank champagne, ate and danced from about 9pm till 12:30. I actually ended up meeting two girls in town on holiday who live in the East Village! So random... but we're meeting up when I go out there in a few weeks. From there, I went to meet with my Swedish gay boyfriend Carl... he was at a house party near my apt in the 11eme with a bunch of random French "industry people": filmmakers, stylists, singers, designers, etc. We hung out there chatting and playing Nintendo Wii till nearly 5am, then I limped home (sober, thank God) in my 4" platforms...

the fabulous Ms. Anne-Cecile

Christmas in the French countryside

I spent Christmas in Chateau du Loire, a small town 2 ½ hours from Paris in the middle of the Loire Valley which is a few minutes from Tours (home of the famous bike race). My friend Anne-Cécile invited me to a Christmas day dinner at her parents house in the country and I was to arrive at 11am so that we could go bike riding to see the chateau’s that the area is famous for before dinner which would begin around 2pm. So the night before I’m trying to be responsible and get my fashion story for the magazine finished before the holidays. I was up till 4:30am working on it—despite the fact that I had to catch the 8am train to the Loire Valley. Needless to say, I overslept and missed the 8am train so I had to take the 10am which got me into Loire around 1:30pm… SOO bummed out.

Anne-Cécile grew up in a big old country house with lots of big rooms with high ceilings, exposed brick and wooden beams. There’s a beautiful garden and lake in her backyard. There were about 10 people present, all aunts/uncles/cousins of Anne-Cécile’s. None of whom spoke much English. But the interesting thing was, I met her cousin Sophie who, as it turns out, lives on 10^th Street and 1^st Avenue in New York! She works at an art gallery on the UES but because of visa issues was back in France for a couple months. She'll be returning to New York after New Years. It’s funny that we literally lived 3 blocks away from each other, go to the same neighborhood bars and restaurants (as we discovered) and probably passed each other on the street numerous times, but we end up meeting randomly on Christmas day in the middle of the French countryside. We’re planning to meet up when I get to the city next month.

As for the food—so delicious! We ate ricotta cheese stuffed mushrooms, foie gras, roasted turkey, potatoes, veggies, a special chocolate holiday cake and coffee. And of course, tons of bottles of wine and champagne to go along with every course. We had to leave to go back to the city right after dinner and I was sad to go. It was such a nice day and I was really bummed about not being able to see the Loire Valley. But her family invited me to come back in the spring to really see the beauty of the region. Apparently Anne-Cécile usually comes up with her friends from the city to BBQ, ride bikes, swim in the lake and just do nothing for the weekend. Can’t wait!

Oh, and Grapes called me that night around 11pm to see if I wanted to join him for drinks at Buddha Bar... would have been fun but I was leaving for Tunisia early the next morning and I didn’t want to have another oversleeping disaster so I declined…

Here are some pics of the Loire Valley... I wish I had taken a picture of the house, its so quintessential French, its adorable—but I totally forgot.

Shelby & Vanessa in Paris

Vanessa and Shelby came to Paris last week to visit for a few days. I absolutely adore these girls… I like to pick on Shelby and just drive her to exasperation; meanwhile Vanessa just shakes her head and laughs. It’s fun :o)

Wednesday was low-key, dinner at my local hangout L’Autre Café and drinks on rue Oberkampf.

On Thursday night, we started the night with dinner at Chez Justine. Grapes happened to call to see what I was up to so I invited him to join us… all very innocent of course. He’s insane and managed to dig himself into a hole a million times talking about politics, cultural differences, gender differences… so we had a great time with him. Afterward, Grapes left and we went to meet up with Eva & Julien to check out their friend perform at a bar nearby. Then we went to a party in Bastille called ‘From Brooklyn to Paris’. The most absurd thing ever: a random New York DJ spinning old-school (?) hip-hop for a bunch of French folks who think they’re Williamsburg hipsters. The party was in an old graffiti covered warehouse-type space and they put up a big projection screen to rotate a slideshow of “New York City”—which really was just shots of the run-down, graffiti and trash filled ghettos—that’s NYC in their eyes. But the contrast of American hip hop culture mixed with the scooter helmets that were scattered all over the place was a riot—they may be New Yorker wannabes, but its still France after all!

On Friday night we hit up Favela Chic for dinner… it’s a Brazilian spot and the food was really good. Shelby’s friend Nicole and her boyfriend met us there (they’re currently starring in a show about the life of Josephine Baker, pretty cool) and we all headed out around midnight when the crazy party people started making their way in. Nicole suggested we try Impala, an African restaurant/lounge on the Champs Elysees. It turned out to be a really great spot… you walk in and immediately feel like you’ve stepped into a different era. Its dark, hot, sexy, there are tropical plants all over, the waiters are all tall, dark, handsome, well-dressed Africans—and the music makes you feel like you’re been transported to an exclusive bar on some fancy resort in the middle of Africa. I loved it.

The thing that made me laugh though was that everyone in the place was white (keeping with the fancy resort theme I guess!), there were maybe 4 other black people there besides us. Eventually we had to get up and start dancing—we were the only people dancing but there’s something about a congo beat, you just can’t sit still for too long. Then Joseph, who’s a professional tap dancer, put on his tap shoes and started this freestyle tap dance, it was pretty hot. And the DJ indulged me for about 30 minutes and played my commercial pop favs—JT, Beyonce. We left around 3am, grabbed crepes from a nearby deli and made our way home. Shelby had a 5am flight back to Italy the next morning, so it was just Vanessa and I for the next couple of days.

On Saturday, Vanessa took me to Le Rhumerie, a West Indian restaurant in Saint Germain des Pres. The best rum drinks you’ve ever had and the food was delicious—fritters, fried plantains, paté.... I think we were going for the island vibe this weekend :o)

Speaking of which… Vanessa is headed to Puerto Rico for a week… about 10 of her friends rented a house on the beach and they’ll be ringing in the New Year sipping piña colada’s under the hot Caribbean sun. And Miss Shelby is off on a fabulous vacay with her hubby Nicco to the Seychelles, an island in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Africa… yes, we are all ridiculously jealous.

Here are some pics from their visit.

Une nuit de vin

Went to Grapes’s wine tasting class last Wed night. I sent him an email the week before saying that my friend Ali and I wanted to take his wine tasting class sometime and he wrote back saying that he was going to England for a few days and would be back the following week. So we settled on Wednesday night—a 5-7pm wine tasting followed by dinner at one of his favorite local restaurants.

I was at lunch with B the day before and he asked if I wanted to meet up on Wed night. I told him I couldn’t because I was taking a wine tasting course and his face literally fell. He was like, “With that guy?” And of course I’m trying to play it all innocent, I just look at him confusedly and ask, “What guy?” And he’s like, “The guy from the bar on Thanksgiving” And I’m like, “Oh… right. Um, yeah” And he says, “I don’t like that guy—he was trying to play me [or something along those lines—more French though]. I saw how he was looking at you”. Now I thought the little outburst of jealousy was kinda cute but considering that I wasn’t completely innocent here I figured I should try to put him at ease. So I just explained that I was just going for the wine tasting and that I was going to bring some other girlfriends along so it wasn’t like Grapes was going to try anything, and if he did, I wasn’t at all interested—I did leave out the part about dinner though… probably TMI anyway.

Anyway, Wednesday rolls around and Ali, Sofia and I head over to Grape’s place for the wine tasting. He lives about 2 blocks away from me in a really nice, huge loft. The wine tastings take place in the living area and a door in the back leads to his bedroom and bathroom. We arrived about 10 minutes late and there were 6 other people there for the class, 3 couples—2 from South Carolina and 1 from Australia. It was a 65€ course (he didn’t charge us) and we got to sample 7 different types of wines and champagne.

Afterward, the four of us went to a really cute, very French restaurant next door. Grapes ordered a few bottles of wine and we spent the next 3 hours talking and eating… it was a lot of fun. Then he took us to this trendy club called Favela Chic (on Wed night it has more of a lounge-y vibe) and we hung out there till around 2:30am… finally Grapes and I left (Ali and Sofia were meeting friends at a Latin club in Bastille) and walked home together. Before I went off in the direction of my apartment, Grapes asked for my number and said that he would give me a call to meet up again sometime. It was actually a really fun night—Grapes is quite the entertainer, I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.

During dinner we started a discussion about relationships. Someone brought up B and Grapes was saying things like, “You shouldn’t be with him. I can tell he’s not the kind of guy for you. You’re too good for him. You can’t really like him. You guys should break up, just be friends. You’re missing out on getting to know other guys who would be better for you”. I just thought it was funny, like why would he be trying to convince me to break up with my boyfriend… and secondly, he doesn’t even know me. Where he got all these ideas about who I should and shouldn’t be with—or got the audacity to imply that I should be with him—is beyond me. Then around 10pm, B sent me a text message asking, ‘So… how was the wine?’ and when Grapes saw me looking at my phone he was like, “Who are you texting? Your boyfriend? Don’t write him back”. But the thing is, I realized that night how much I really like B. Grapes is hilarious and smart and successful and cultured and cute… and definitely much more my type. But he’s not B. And at the end of the day, B is the guy I want to be with. So as great as Grapes is and as much fun as I think we would have if we got together, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be—right now, I’m all about Mr. B :o)

A Paris Weekend with Galen...

By the way, my good friend Galen came to town from New York over Thanksgiving weekend... just a random trip since he's never been to Paris before. He spent most of his time exploring the city on his own, meeting people and partying. But we hung out one day/night (Saturday)... went to dinner at a cute, very French restaurant in Bastille, then went to my Swedish friend Carl's apt and hung out with his cute Swedish friends, then we all went to this crazy club near Grand Boulevard till 5:30am... LONG night... Bruno was there too which was cute. The only straight boy amongst a room full of gay boys-- he was a trouper though! Anyway, we had a blast. Here are some pics from the weeekend...

Happy Thanksgiving!!

I organized Thanksgiving dinner for a group of friends in Paris last night. Being one of my favorite holidays, I couldn’t let it go by uncelebrated! Initially, I had hoped to have a nice, home-cooked Thanksgiving at someone’s apartment but once I found out that the cheapest turkey cost 16€/kilo, I decided to scrap that idea.

I made a reservation at an American diner in the Latin Quarter called Breakfast in America but since we couldn’t get in until 10pm, we decided to start the night off with drinks at an English pub down the street at 7:30pm. But just me and 3 girlfriends met up for happy hour since everyone else was still finishing up work and such. The restaurant had a 4-course Thanksgiving dinner special for 29€― an aperitif (glass of kir), pumpkin soup (which they ran out of, jerks! We had walnut salad instead, it was delic), the main course (turkey with gravy and cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and string beans) and dessert (apple pie). Surprisingly, everything was delicious! I was expecting it to be bland, the turkey to be dry or the food to taste vaguely French—but not at all! If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was back in the States.

Out of the 8 of us, only 3 of us were Americans so we explained to everyone the meaning and significance of Thanksgiving. Then we all went around the table saying what we’re thankful for and then we prayed before digging in. It was a great night! And it was B’s first Thanksgiving so it was really cute to see him really getting into it—at first he thought he wouldn’t like it (he has reservations about American cuisine, so French) but he thought the food was yummy and he had a great time.

Afterwards, the boys went home and the girls went to a karaoke bar around the corner to sing cheesy American songs until 3am with a bunch of drunken French people. It was a great Thanksgiving. I would have loved to be able to spend it with my friends and family back home, but since that was out of the question, this was a pretty nice compromise. There’s a lot of things to be thankful for this year (being in Paris, good health, my new apartment, etc)—one of which being new friends in a foreign country.

Ok, I left one thing out…. there was this guy at the pub we went to for pre-drinks—I can’t think of a good name for him so I’ll call him Grapes b/c he’s a sommelier. He was with a co-worker and they came over to us and said, “We noticed you guys are Americans and just wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving”. We ended up talking with them for about an hour and it turns out that he lives and works in my new neighborhood. At one point, he turned to me and said, “I don’t want to come off as sleazy, but can I take you out to dinner sometime? Since you’re new to the neighborhood… but only if you’re fun! I don’t want to go out with a boring girl” (joking). And I said, “Of course I’m fun, I’m a New Yorker!” He was absolutely hilarious so I agreed. About that time, B shows up and for some reason I felt a little… I don’t know, disappointed? Grapes and B were chatting for a bit and Grapes asked how the two of us got together… awkward. Anyway, before we left the pub, B went to the bathroom and Grapes slipped me his business card and told me to call him. And now I cannot stop thinking about him! This is sooo bad; I’m an awful person… what is my problem?! :o(

Another b-day party...

Last night I went out for drinks to celebrate my birthday with my friends in Paris (a few people from my French class and some other friends) about 15 of us at this cute “trendy” bar in the 2eme called Le Café Noir. The big news was that it was the first night I invited B to hang out with me and my friends… very nerve-wracking! On the one hand, you’re worried that he’ll be weird or dull and your friends won’t like him or won’t be able to understand what you see in him. And on the other hand, you don’t want him to be bored trying to make small talk with a group of strangers for hours... but then you don’t want to seem like you need to be all up in his face, holding his hand every second either… so I figured I’d just let them at it and not worry too much about it…

And he was great and everyone really liked him! Granted, there was the embarrassing moment here and there, like when a friend would come over and say, “Oh Stacy, is this the boyfriend?!” (We never officially said we were boyfriend/girlfriend so it could have been an awkward moment, but he just replied, “That’s me! I’m the boyfriend”). Or when one of my gay boyfriends eyed him up and down and nodded approvingly with a smirk on his face (B just laughed and said, "don't leave me alone with that one"... it was cute).

Some of you will remember a guy that I was semi-head-over-heels for once upon a time… the funny part is everyone who met him immediately thought he was a jerk and I just didn’t understand why they couldn't see what I saw (turns out they were right). But it’s nice to have your friends say nice things about the guy you’re seeing… and to be with someone who makes an effort to get along with your friends :o)

Girlfriends

Last night I went to dinner at my new friend Eva’s apartment. We've been hanging out a lot lately. She also invited her friend Christiane, who she calls her sister-in-law because she's dating Julien’s younger brother Thibault. Christiane is a 30-year-old Brazilian girl and she met Thibault on a beach in Rio last year while he was on a month-long holiday. Last February, she spent a month with him in Paris and in August, she quit her job and moved here to be with him. She’s basically hanging out, taking French lessons and discovering Paris. We make an interesting trio—the Dutch girl, the Brazilian and the American.

I arrived at Eva’s apartment around 6:30pm with a bottle of wine and we spent the next couple of hours drinking, talking about men, the difficulty of being an expat, our former lives, our jobs, our goals… your standard variety of gossip and girl talk which I really missed.

Around 9:30pm, Eva’s boyfriend Julien showed up and it changed the dynamic of the conversation. He cooked us a dinner of grilled salmon, rice and veggies which was absolutely delicious (what’s up with French men knowing how to cook?) and then sat down to discuss everything from Che Guevara to Sarkozy and Bush, the immigration “problem” in America, the relationship between former colonized countries (i.e. the U.S. and England), racial tensions in Paris, the ban on smoking in public places that France is imposing in January, etc. The entire evening felt so… french. They love a good, long, heated discussion. We left around 11pm—almost 5 hours and the night flew by, I had the best time. It’s so nice to meet new people who you really like and click with (the Rocker introduced us so he was good for one thing at least!)… we three girls are all pretty much in the same boat: foreigners living in Paris, just trying to live out our dreams. We’ve decided to meet up once a week for wine and to practice talking in French (Eva is fluent).

Eva and Julien invited me to join them tonight for the France v. England game—about 20 of their friends are going to a restaurant for dinner and to watch the match (and what's up with the French always going out in huge groups?). I’m really tempted to go since it would probably mean meeting lots of new and interesting people (people who are over the age of 25!) but I was invited to watch with another friend of mine and would feel kinda bad backing out now… we’ll see.

In any case, the weekend of our birthday, we’ve confirmed that we’ll take Julien’s mother’s car and drive up to Amsterdam on Thursday afternoon. Eva has her graduation ceremony and the birthday party will be at a bar on Friday night—before midnight it will be her party, and after midnight, mine :o)
I honestly thought I would be spending my 25th birthday eating dinner by myself at some restaurant (or at least hanging out at some random bar in the city with people I don’t really care for) so this is a nice change of plans… I can’t wait!

A weekend with Semera in Paris

My dear, dear copin Semera was in Paris for work this weekend. We had an absolute blast!! It was SO nice seeing her in my new city; hanging out, shopping, eating at cute cafes, meeting people—I don’t think I realized how much I miss my friends until she arrived. We went out to Bastille on Friday night (a neighborhood in Paris with lots of bars and clubs) and met a couple of boys. One of which, a very cute boy, took a liking to Semera. The other one was really cool, he’s a snowboarder and invited me to go boarding with him and his friends this winter… so it was a good night (see pics below).

For Saturday night, Cancun had invited me to the birthday party of two of his friends. It was a big gathering for dinner and drinks at a restaurant that was owned by a friend of his. Cancun was just being his usual crazy self… and it turns out he just broke up with his girlfriend :o) His little 21-year-old brother decided that he was in love with me though and kept hugging me and trying to kiss me, so Cancun was teasing me about it all night.

Then there’s this boy—I’ll just call him B because he doesn’t really have a crazy story attached to him. He’s a friend of a guy I met through Cancun. I met him twice—the first time briefly on a street corner and the second time when I went out with a friend of his (the night of The Arrest). We went to B’s apartment for drinks before going to the bar and he was just really funny and sweet, and he was the only one who spoke English well, so we ended up talking for much of the short evening. Then last week I got a text from him saying, “It’s B, we met a couple weeks ago through S. I work near you and know some good restaurants near our office. Would you like to have lunch one day?” Totally innocent, we planned to meet the following Tuesday for lunch.

Anyway, the night of the party B walks in a bit late and he’s with a pretty French girl. For some weird reason I felt a bit disappointed, but didn’t think about it too much—I was just like ‘ok fine, he has a girlfriend’. We hung out and spoke as usual, although I was trying not to talk to him too much—you know how some girls get when other girls talk to their boyfriend—since she kept looking at me funny. Semera and I decided to leave the party after dinner and went to Oberkampf to get a drink. Later, I get a text from Cancun saying they’re all going to Bastille and to meet them there. We spent the night drinking and dancing at a cute little Spanish bar till 4am.

At the end of the night, the whole group was standing outside the bar (Cancun had left about 15 mins before, he was wasted and just up and disappeared while we were dancing... typical) and B and I were talking a bit apart from the rest of the group. He took my hand and was absentmindedly playing with my fingers as we chatted for about 5 minutes (he made a point of mentioning that the girl he was with was just his neighbor, not his girlfriend). So we said goodbye, bisous twice (sometimes friends will give 4 or more kisses on the cheek, who knows why, they're French, lol) and as I was pulling back, he kissed me on the mouth—for about 5 seconds. All I could think was, ‘Oh my god, what the hell was that about?’ It was just so random and unexpected. But it was really sweet, not like the skeezy guy who tries to steal a kiss. So I said bye to everyone else and Semera and I made our way down the busy street to catch a cab. I turned and looked back and B was craning his neck to see where I was, we made eye contact and he smiled and nodded, and that was it. There’s a scene in my favorite movie, Say Anything. Diane comes home from the party and is explaining to her father how Lloyd Dobler would periodically look for her in the crowd and catch her eye to make sure she was ok. We had that exact moment. And it’s so funny (and kinda scary) because last week I dedicated In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel to Helen on Facebook and wrote “…all men should aspire to be Lloyd Dobler”.

But there’s not much to say about him. He’s just B—extremely nice, really cute, kinda shy, funny, smart, interesting, he's an engineer... Semera thinks he’s great—she’s like “Forget Cancun, he’s all wrong. B is perfect. He was mature, watching Cancun and the rest of them act crazy and just laughing at them”. I’ve always fallen for boys who are like that, the life of the party, the one surrounded by a million girls—thinking that’s what I wanted because they were more exciting, and nice guys always bored me (Semera had the wisdom to mention this is probably due to my relationship with my father but that’s another story entirely). So its weird that I can’t stop thinking about this guy—and I never thought of him in that way at all before. But why not B?

So we’ll see how lunch goes… a demain.

A date (?) with the Rocker

One of my favorite quotes is by Helen Rowland and it goes: “Why does a man take it for granted that a girl who flirts with him wants him to kiss her—when, nine times out of ten, she only wants him to want to kiss her?” Truer words have never been spoken.

Had my date with the Rocker last night. I called him from work around 5pm and we’re chatting a bit… then he starts rattling off these things he has to do that night, including meeting a scalper on a street corner to buy tickets to the rugby world cup and going to his friend’s apartment for drinks. Then he goes, “So what do you think?” and I’m thinking he’s cancelling on me so I’m like “Wait, what are you asking me?” And he says, “Do you want to come with me to my friend’s house and have a drink?” Romantic, huh? Anyway it gave me a chance to meet some new people…

It was a couple, a Dutch girl from Amsterdam and her French boyfriend (who is the Rocker's childhood friend). The four of us are sitting in the living room, listening to French music, drinking wine, eating and talking-- they were really interesting. They met in Bolivia 4 years ago-- the boyfriend is a documentary filmmaker who’s been travelling the world for the last 8 years capturing the int’l music scene for public TV. The girl just finished her masters in something political and works for an NGO but moonlights as a singer. It was a very refreshingly mature evening, considering I’ve been hanging out with college kids as of late. And I really like the girlfriend, we totally hit it off (a new friend perhaps?) and it turns out her birthday is one day before mine. I told her that I had nothing planned for my 25th since all my friends are back in the States and she invited me to celebrate with her—she’s rented out a bar in Amsterdam and is inviting a bunch of friends from France to come out and party for the night, then crash at the flat she keeps there. Thankfully I’m not shy about thrusting myself into people’s lives so I’m definitely taking her up on her offer! If I can’t celebrate with my friends, I think this may be the next best thing.

Anyway, back to the Rocker. I got up to leave around 11pm and he said he’d walk me home. Turns out he’s been living in Spain, Buenos Aires and China for the last 3 years or so and is just in Paris for a temporary layover till he moves back to China in December. He doesn’t work yet (its seems like all French people under 30 are unemployed but have about 4 advanced degrees) so for the time being he’s just bumming around. We get to my apt, he gives me the obligatory bisous (kiss on the cheek) and walks away… I’m thinking, ‘Ok…?’ So when I got up to my apt I text’d him asking, “What time do you leave tomorrow?” (he’s going to a 3-day birthday party at a villa in a town near the German border this weekend) and my phone rings right away. He asks if I would like him to come back (I thought that was funny and a bit presumptuous)… but we hang out in my room, chatting (he gave me more reasons as to why I should run for the hills immediately), drinking wine, and he leaves about an hour later (get your mind out of the gutter folks!). It was fun… and that was my night!

I don’t think dear old Helen would mind if I amended her quote for the 21st century to read: “Why does a man take it for granted that a girl who kisses him wants him to sleep with her?”

Still, I’m definitely intrigued (and I love meeting guys with cool friends, it tells you a lot about a person)… we’ll see what his next move is.

The Arrest

I met this guy, we'll call him Rocker (not to be confused with The Rockstar, my fling from earlier this year) b/c he looks like your typical American rocker—super cute, long messy hair, scruffy beard, cool clothes (as Nicole Ritchie put it, "the kind of guy who looks like he smells but he doesn't"), through Cancun (the boy I met at the house party). Rocker and I were introduced at a pub during the Rugby World Cup match, France v. Ireland, and he looked like an asshole and was slightly rude so of course I immediately took a liking to him. You know those guys that look like trouble, like they will break your heart... exactly the kind of boy I always fall for. Anyway, he called me up on Saturday night (at 11:30pm... who asks a girl out that late anyway? Assholes...) and invited me to this house party in the 19th arr. I was already out with another friend so I told him I would try to stop by a bit later.

I ended up showing up at the party around 2:30am. He introduced me to a couple people as ma copine (my girlfriend) then proceeded to ignore me so I went off in search of people to talk to. I ended up spending the night talking to a group of French people who had just got back from studying in Australia and were really in awe of the fact that I was from New York.

Then around 4am, Rocker finally comes to find me, drapes an arm around my shoulders all possessive-like and says “I’m taking her home, lets go”. So we leave the party with his best friend and get into his car. He casually says, “I hope the police don’t stop us, I’m really drunk”. My drunk self didn't think, "hmm, maybe he shouldn't be driving then"… I’m just like "ok whatever”.

And of course, the police stop us at a random checkpoint. They give him a breathalyzer test which he fails so he’s sent off to jail for at least 24 hours!! Meanwhile, his car is sitting in the middle of the street and the police want ME to move it—problem is, it's a manual which I don’t know how to drive. But the other girl with us didn't have a license so she couldn't drive it. The police give me a breathalyzer to see if I am ok to drive (I was just under the legal limit), takes my passport and asks me a million questions, then sends us on our way.

The girl and I spend the next hour trying to drive the car home, unsuccessfully… finally we give up and she calls her ex-boyfriend to come and rescue us since we're stuck in the middle of the street in one of the dodgiest parts of Paris with drivers cursing at us in French to get the hell out of the way… the ex shows up about an hour later, too drunk to drive (plus he had his license taken away the week before for drunk driving)… so he parks the car in an alleyway and we all get on the train and go home… I stumbled in around 6:30am.

So that was my first experience with the French police—the entire time, the girl and her ex were blaming the situation on Sarkozy (France’s new conservative president whom the young student population have a fierce dislike for), saying he’s the one who’s implemented all these tough sanctions and France isn’t want it used to be, blah blah blah… all I’m wondering is what the police plan to do with all my information…

An 80's house party

My English friend Temi invited me to a house party being thrown by her boyfriend Rhose's college friend on Saturday night. It was in a huge triplex townhouse in the 20th arr., which is a very rare find in Paris. The theme was 80’s so everyone was dressed up except for us and one or two other people. I spent most of the night talking to a group of about 5 French boys—having sparked a conversation with one of the guys about his “Fat Tuesdays” necklace and bonding over our shared memories of Spring Break in Cancun (don’t ask).

One of the guys (we’ll call him Cancun), was really cute but I couldn’t tell if he was gay or not. He was dressed in full 80’s gay-club attire: neon blue spandex leggings, under short shorts with a mesh muscle shirt layered under a neon pink tank top tied up at the navel and high top Converse All Stars (how I still managed to see he was hot is beyond me). Eventually he made some reference to getting married and having children, and the sexiness of women so I decided he may be straight after all.

We all exchanged numbers and they’ve promised to call me and take me out next weekend. I’m definitely going to give Cancun a call though… he may very well be my future husband!

One thing I’ve noticed is that it’s much easier to meet guys in this city than girls. French girls aren’t as quick to befriend other girls and can be a bit standoffish… and I do miss having girlfriends around to talk to. I’ve never been one of those girls who “have only guy friends because I don’t get along with other girls”. I much prefer girls (sorry boys! I do love you!)…

Anyway, that was my first Parisian house party, a good night!