Oh and "Bleh" which in English translates to "Blah" (in my parallel universe).
While it is still light outside, I just realized it's almost 10 pm. For this reason (and because I'm procrastinating from opening my work email) I had a striking realization -- wait! I'm in Paris! Isn't this a good time to start blogging again?
So if any of you are still out there - consider this the revival of my feeble attempts at literary immortality. After all, they say once you put something on the net, it will be there forever. Immortality regardless of merit. Sweet.
I came to Paris for the first time in 1989. I had just turned 18 and my dad took me on this trip as a birthday present, and possibly, because I was brilliant enough not to ask for a big, expensive debutante ball. He thought that was brilliant and to reward his wonderful, thoughtful daughter, he took me to Europe. In the end, he probably spent more on me than a party would have cost, but now that he's gone, I think the memories I made that summer and which have stayed with me for 25 years are priceless.
At 18, I had braces, big hair and an unhealthy fascination with Rick Astley. It just so happened that that summer, Rick Astley was HUGE! And it also just so happened he was in Paris promoting his new (possibly only) hit album. So one of my big memories of Paris is dragging my dad around various record stores, trying to catch pareng Rick and get an autograph on cassette tape! I can't even remember where we eventually found him but I recall vividly the bewilderment on Papa's face as he found himself amidst a sea of semi-coherent, screaming teenaged girls.
So if any of you are still out there - consider this the revival of my feeble attempts at literary immortality. After all, they say once you put something on the net, it will be there forever. Immortality regardless of merit. Sweet.
I came to Paris for the first time in 1989. I had just turned 18 and my dad took me on this trip as a birthday present, and possibly, because I was brilliant enough not to ask for a big, expensive debutante ball. He thought that was brilliant and to reward his wonderful, thoughtful daughter, he took me to Europe. In the end, he probably spent more on me than a party would have cost, but now that he's gone, I think the memories I made that summer and which have stayed with me for 25 years are priceless.
At 18, I had braces, big hair and an unhealthy fascination with Rick Astley. It just so happened that that summer, Rick Astley was HUGE! And it also just so happened he was in Paris promoting his new (possibly only) hit album. So one of my big memories of Paris is dragging my dad around various record stores, trying to catch pareng Rick and get an autograph on cassette tape! I can't even remember where we eventually found him but I recall vividly the bewilderment on Papa's face as he found himself amidst a sea of semi-coherent, screaming teenaged girls.
In fact, I have photos somewhere of me in my fuschia pink jacket, tsunami bangs and pink leg warmers. And since no one is probably reading this anyway, I think I shall find that photo when I get home and post it --- because public humiliation, even the self-inflicted kind, is good for keeping the lawyer-sized ego in check.
I fell in love with Paris at 18 and I am falling even harder as 40 something something....
I will try to be good about posting. Starting today. Well. Maybe tomorrow.
I fell in love with Paris at 18 and I am falling even harder as 40 something something....
I will try to be good about posting. Starting today. Well. Maybe tomorrow.
(Hmmm. It's soooo not going to be chronological...not sure I can live with that...oh well. Virginia Woolf rocked stream of consciousness and so can I).
