Falling for Paris

Like so many before me, I fell hard for Paris
the moment I laid eyes on her many years ago.
  A wonderland chock-full of elegant avenues and quaint village-like streets,
it  felt like I had stepped into a storybook of kept promises and all things good. 
My wide-eyed fascination only continued to grow after years of
 inspecting and cherishing the many wonders of this famous city. 

Fresh off my latest visit, I can honestly say
I fell harder than ever for the City of Light.
 Literally. 
Face first.
​True, I fell head over heels in love with the City of Light many years ago
but this time, I tumbled nose-first in a plot of dirt in between
the tombstones of Montmartre Cemetery. 

​Splat.  My nose bled for three days.
  Half my face looked like steak tartare.
  And my poor sister, witness to the calamity, had to put up with the bloodbath
 that followed us all the way to Place Pigalle where we sought help from the
ever present wisdom of a French pharmacy.
   And yes, the pain, the gore, the forever altered sinus cavity
and commensurate worry was worth every single drop of sang rouge spilled by
 this American who will never say never for a chance to live la vie Parisienne.

​Under the best of circumstances, Paris will put on a smile on anyone's face.
  Under the worst of circumstances -- when the gods above fail to smile down
on your dream trip -- I can now unhesitatingly assure you --
Paris will paint a grin back on your face -- welts and all!

But enough about my boo-boos.
  Let's talk Paris.
  What is it about Paris that makes us never call it quits come
rain, shine, empty wallet or broken noses?

 Admittedly, at home, we may have just thrown in the towel and called it a day. 
​But Paris never fails to inspire, allowing us to pick ourselves back up and start fresh, picking up steam as we go, doggedly insisting that lady luck is back on our side
​ no matter what -- weather, politics, ego, two left feet be damned!

​So here's just a preview of how I "convalesced" during my dramatic episode in Paris.

Every girl deserves a bouquet or two when she's not feeling her prettiest.
​And you just can't beat the arrangements at Marché President Wilson.
​A true gem of the 16th arrondissement, it's the place to make fresh start!
​
​  Close your eyes and smell the roses.

And don't forget the chocolate.
  Or in particularly dire circumstances, choose chocolate AND salted-butter caramels.
  We "tested" a few -- then a few more -- for medicinal purposes of course.... 
​Henri Le Roux is The Man in Paris for such sweet-salty cure-alls; after all,
the Breton native is given credit for inventing the Caramel au Beurre Salé.

This is the store on the wonderful and truly unforgettable rue des Martyrs. 
​Luckily for us, there are multiple outlets in the city so you can never
​roam too far from their remarkable and restorative "medication".

To make sure Madame Fortune was back in our corner , we made a pivotal stop
at the foot (literally) of Michel de Montaigne, 16th century French philosopher.  Students in the Latin Quarter rely on the trick of rubbing his left foot
for good luck during exams.

​I rely solely on scientific data like this when in recovery. 
​Just ask any student at La Sorbonne....

And just in case good luck isn't enough, I'd recommend getting your palm read
at the Museé des Arts Forain, one of the most magical outposts in the city.

  I can't wait to tell you more about our magical afternoon spent here.
​New blog to follow soon. 

Prayer always helps you feel warm and safe in any city. 
Luckily for us, in Paris, you can turn a corner of practically any street
to find a wonderful refuge -- and we discovered many new houses of worship.

​Remembering to say a private little thank you at the church of Saint-Médard
​was a must-do, particularly grateful for the chance to return to wonderful
rue Mouffetard in the 5th after a few years of missing its lively village-like
​ atmosphere where fat chickens roast and old men still wink at you.

Now unofficially the emblem for remembrance of Princess Diana's untimely death, the Flame of Liberty is a fine place to remember those less fortunate than yourself. 

​It's a good reminder that Paris is not a place to throw yourself a Pity Party.
​Celebrate life!

Speaking of celebrating life, the cheese plate at Astier in the 11th
would likely heal all the world's woes.
​
  Have no mercy -- Eat every lovely last bite!

Café Pouchkine in the 6th (other locations too) offers Russian-influenced
French pastries in an otherworldly atmosphere. 

I think even General Napoleon could have been swayed
to lay down his arms for this particular Russian.

A fully loaded bar ably run by nice people can help stem a few aches and pains. 

Viva la France! 
Slowly building red blood cells....
​More cognac, please!

Basque.  Lamb.  Chops. 
Grateful to be alive at Dans les Landes on rue Monge in the 5th.
​
​Any more words are superfluous.

Snarfing a few bites of my sister's pumpkin soup is like finding love in a bowl.

 Genius Chef Christian Etchebest's Cantine du Troquet in the 14th
offers a step up from grandma's cooking.
When I win the lottery, I will return every week for Sunday lunch.
​That's a promise.

Wine will stop the whine every time. 
FRENCH WINE IS GOOD TO THE LAST DROP.

Stopping to inhale the beauty of fall in Luxembourg Gardens
beats hours of upkeep at the local beauty parlor.
  Nature's bounty is a natural remedy, reminding us that
​our own beauty/ego is nothing more than skin deep.

"The only thing we have to fear  is fear itself."
​President Franklin D. Roosevelt
​
Face-to-face in the courtyard of the University of Medicine, I stared down
​ The Statue of Death.
  Unafraid, I felt more alive than ever.

Time Well Spent means veering off the beaten path to discover
beautiful residential streets of Paris. 

From the gorgeous streets surrounding Square de Montsouris,
Square des Peupliers and Cité des Fleurs,
​we oohed and aahed our way through neighborhoods
​that made us long to lose ourselves in the fantasy of local life.
​
​Though my unhappy nose may never look the same,
​ my nose for Paris local life has never been stronger.

No wonder doctors make house-calls in Paris. 
​ If I could walk through this door, I might be tempted to get my medical license.

If the cheese, the chocolate, the wine, the flowers, and the lamb chops
 aren't making you feel better by now, try the
I Love You Wall in Montmartre --  where you will be reminded
of the love in some 250 languages.

"It's midnight.  One half of Paris is making love to the other half."
​dialogue from the 1939 film "Ninotchka"

Several stops at the pharmacy for the always amazing properties of
French plant-based creams and potions aided my afflicted face as
​well as my bruised ego.  
​
  Torment, agony, embarrassment are now gone with the wind -- ably
assisted by expert Paris pharmacists and powerful antioxidants.
​Prescription Paris is the only medicine I need.

Just in case you think I was terribly unlucky to have an accident in Paris,
here's the final proof you're wrong.

  As if dining at the wonderful Le Bon Georges in the lovely 9th arrondissement
isn't proof enough of good fortune, guess who sat at the table next to us?
​Oui, that's actor/comedian/writer extraordinaire Robert Wuhl who kindly kept us enthralled and entertained as we feasted on tiny fresh girolles, cooked-to-perfection beef, and homemade rice pudding. 
Robert was in town to celebrate his birthday and agreed that
Le Bon Georges is one unforgettable slice of Paris. 
Poor guy was stuck on the meatloaf side of my battered face,
but couldn't have been kinder.
​The inestimable power of making a new friend in Paris certifies
​ this life is as good as it gets.

​Lucky Lucky Me!
​I'm ready to fall for Paris any day of the week.
  You can cast that thought in bronze.