Fashion and Friendship

It's the morning after my big shopping day (and going to the Eiffel Tower at night), and I have shopping hangover! But it was all worth it. Plus I'm waking up to a gorgeous, warm, sunny day which isn't too common here in Paris.

I went shopping with Stylist and Fashion Consultant Heather Price. She's the one who also took me to get my hair done. It's nice to have someone who knows where to go, speaks the language and buys me a Coke when I need it.

So Heather and I took a taxi to the 16 arrondissement and headed for a boutique she recommended. She kindly warned me to be prepared -- that we'd probably spend most of my budget in this store. We walked in, Heather kiss-kissed the shop girl, and we headed to the dressing room.

I'm always skeptical about shopping and finding something to fit the junk in the trunk. Heather had already reminded me that we'd probably need some tailoring to close the gap in the waist -- curvy girls like us need to buy a couple sizes up! Plus she told me that tiny models get their clothes stitched and tacked here and there too. So I'm not a fashion freak, and it's perfectly normal for clothes not to fit.

But guess what! The clothes in this store fit me (almost)!! Well ... they fit the waist-to-hips ratio at least, but I still need to get the pants hemmed and a couple of other odds and ends done. And every piece of clothing that she and the shop-girl brought over was beautiful and looked amazing when I tried it on!

So in the midst of the shock-and-awe shopping, I had to make tough choices to stay in my budget. I wasn't buying things by default just because they were the only things I could find that looked decent. I actually had to weed out really awesome clothes, which thankfully Heather also helped me do.

After all of the excitement of seeing myself in clothes that made me look taller and slimmer, Heather decided we needed a Coke/coffee break. We didn't have much more shopping to do so we took our time. She was also surprised at how well the first store went, and said that I was her easiest client ever.

To make sure I got my value out of her, she promised to spend a couple of hours with me putting all the outfits together and taking pictures so that I can remember what to do when I get home. Which is exactly what I wanted, because remember, I was skeptical about the actual shopping. What was more important to me was finding out about "my style," learning how to accessorize and generally looking more polished but still having a little edge.

Maybe the best part of the hair-shopping experience though, is that I made a friend in Paris! Heather and I really hit it off. We have a lot in common and had a really great time learning about each other. We're going to hang out together some more while I'm here, and I'm really looking forward to it. I guess I'm going to have to learn how to use my French phone after all!

Late to bed, early to rise . . .

Which is the opposite of how I like to do it.

Maybe it was the chocolate eclair I had at 9:30 last night, but I was not asleep until 00:30 last night. Yes, they use 24 hour time over here to emphasize just how bloody late it is. It could also be that I drink an unbelievable huge quantity of "Coke Light," which is what they call Diet Coke here.

I don't remember much about getting up, because I was still asleep until I finished breakfast.

JJ was off shopping for clothes today, so Beanie and I had what is formally known as a "Daddy Day." We both like these days because it means that all diet considerations are ignored. JJ fed Ella waffles for breakfast before she left, then I took her for pizza for lunch. I had peel the cheese and all toppings off, of course. The waiter was very concerned, but I kept saying c'est bon, c'est bon (it's good, it's good), and he gave up.

Ella gives the pizza a thumbs up. But only after I took all the good stuff off of it. Of course, nobody likes disgusting olives, so who cares about them.

This lunch took place across the river in the 3rd arrondissement (sort of district or precinct concept). We'd walked over there in search of a grocery store called "Thanksgiving." It specializes in tantalizing american processed foods, like Kraft Mac n Cheese and Bisquick. We bought both. It's important in the development of a child that they consume only refined carbohydrates.

We also stopped to buy Ella some new shoes because the ones she had kept popping off at the heel and made her walk funny. She now has big girl, lace-up sneakers!

We made the long walk home and Ella promptly crawled under her bed and went to sleep. There is no explanation for this. It just was.

I spent all afternoon working on a new song, which ended up kind of sucking. But it's like fishing. You use the best skill you've got, but if a 2 oz perch takes the bait, you've got to reel it in and take care of it before you can fish for a bigger catch.

Later, I still wasn't satisfied that Ella had consumed enough sugar, so we headed off to Breakfast in America for pancakes. I had a cheeseburger, so the family did net some protein for the day.

When we returned, JJ was home from her shopping, so we sat back while she showed us her finds, which was fun.

++++++++

What's all this talk about the so-called "City of Light?" Yeah, right. By the time they turn the lights on, Ella has to be in bed. Today, we decided that Ella was pumped full of enough sugar to keep her going late.

After the sun sank in whatever direction is generally sinks in, we hit the street for a wild Saturday night adventure. We hopped onto the RER (kind of like a fast, double-decker mètro) for the ride to the Eiffel Tower.

Ella, JJ and Arlyn (the stuffed dog) ride the RER to the Eiffel Tower. Fast, fairly empty except for tourists, and some guys with machine guns (seriously, but I think they were good guys).

After coming up out of the metro station, we followed the signs until we saw this:

The Eiffel Tower was lit up like a Christmas tree.

We overheard a young British boy exclaim, "Muhtha, why . . . ehts byoo-tee-fuw!" He was correct.

So as I've documented here, there is some evidence that this is a "City of Light," but I need to see more if I'm to be convinced. Unfortunately, we are approaching the longest day of the year, so it doesn't get dark around here until I'm asleep.

Here is a picture of me and Ella to show that I'm actually on this trip.

Quiet Day, Working Day

Last night before bed I laid out my running clothes, my ipod, my shoes and then I set my alarm for 6:30 am.

A few seconds later the alarm went off. Sure enough, it was morning and time to get up. So I went for my first run in Paris. I don't know how far I went, but I was gone for 45 minutes. I stopped to stretch by the Louvre. It was kind of a neat experience, and far safer than running on the country roads around home. I didn't have to deal with much traffic running along the river walks or through the Jardin de Tuileries.

My neighborhood is just coming awake at 6:30; the only pedestrians out are either runners, homeless, or jet-lagged tourists. I snickered at the American family walking in the Tuileries park at 7am -- three kids with mom and dad, all awake and out to see Paris. I hope they found a cafe with "service continu" since nothing else was going to be open for several hours.

JJ likes the schedule here. Things open at 9 or 10 (or 11, like the Pompidou) and stay open late, except for many restaurants that close between lunch and dinner. It matches her natural sleep cycle, I suppose. The restaurant operating hours haven't been too much of an issue for us, since we don't usually go to restaurants, which are distinct from brasseries, cafes and bistros.

Anyway, the streets had light traffic at 6:30, but by the time I got back near 7:30, the rush was full on.  It's noisy and the pedestrians are in a hurry. You really have to watch out for the tourists. They'll change directions on you, stop short, and just get in your way. The reason is that tourists aren't looking where they're going; they're rubbernecking. So their bodies kind of get out of control. Ella got rundown by an American teenager who flew out of the Subway yesterday.

This is the first time I've stayed in a city for this long. In general, I don't really like being in cities.

But Paris is kind of inside out. The heart of it is mostly 4 or 5 story buildings. You don't get that closed in feeling you get from walking among skyscrapers. All the modern, tall buildings are on the periphery of Paris. So when we step out, it feels open, well lit, and the air is relatively clean. There are lots of trees.

I haven't seen a single gas station. There has to be one somewhere around here.

++++++++++++++

So I got back from my run and locked myself in the bedroom to work on a song. It was like pulling teeth today, but I got one! It's crap, but now it's out of the way so a good one can come out.

Then we had pizza at our favorite pizza place and whipped up to the monoprix to buy some much needed groceries. Got back and spent a large portion of the afternoon trying to fix a computer problem. Unsuccessful.

Then JJ and Ella headed out to Jardin de Luxemburg for the playground experience, but non!

The green barrier signifies that the playground is closed. There will be non playing today!

However, it turns out there are some things to do. Like ride this carousel, which allows you to joust at some rings.

Sir Ella catches a ring on the carousel!

I wasn't there for any of this, since I was back at the apartment trying to fix the computer.

Eventually it was dinner time and we had our first take away crêpes. You walk up to the stand on the sidewalk, and they make it on a round hot plate right before your eyes. JJ and I both had the jambon et fromage crêpe: that's ham and cheese. It was very, very, very delicious. I'll be trying a Nutella one soon.

"This tastes like crêpe!

Map Tour of Paris

Click on the little four arrows next to "vimeo" to watch in full screen.

Map Tour of Paris from Eric Edstrom on Vimeo.

Get Into the Louvre

I was body checked by a tiny Japanese woman today.

I was trying to take this picture:

As you can see from the picture below, you don't get to stand very close to the Mona Lisa. She's inside a glass enclosure, which is protected by a wooden railing, and then to provide additional protection, there is the velvet rope to keep the mob further back. 

Ella and JJ squint to see the Mona Lisa. It's represented as being the "real" one, but I thought I saw some paint by numbers lines in the light blue part.

The mob is endless, and ruthless. I had worked my way forward and was getting close to the rope, when I was pushed bodily by a five foot tall Japanese lady. In her defense, the only way she was ever going to get the picture she wanted was to use some force. But why me? It wasn't as if I'd been standing there hogging the best spot.

JJ can't believe the huge crowd or the small painting.

We'd been told the Mona Lisa experience was kind of underwhelming, so I think we were prepared. I actually wasn't disappointed in it. I was just kind of shocked at how aggressive people were in jockeying for position.

Meanwhile there was another painting. . . same artist (Leonardo da Vinci), same kind of painting (portrait of woman), same general quality (to my uneducated eye), but it had no one looking at it.

I got close enough to this one I could have cleaned the glass if I'd brought a bottle of Windex and a couple paper towels. 

So the question has to be: "What makes the Mona Lisa the Mona Lisa?"

The answer came from Ella. We were looking at a reproduction of the Mona Lisa before we got into see the "real" one, and Ella said, "why is she smiling like that?"

That's kind of incredible. A five year old child, without prompting or coaching, asks the question. "Why is she smiling like that?" Inquiring minds want to know!

JJ says that Mona has a secret, but I'm not so sure. I think she found out that she has to pay Leonardo in Euros, and she showed up with US dollars.

The mob was not restricted to the ML, however.

The Venus de Milo, an ancient greek sculpture. I can tell she's been eating in French restaurants. It cost her both arms.

You must never, never, never call it a statue. If you do, they'll know you are un nul, for sure. What? Don't know what Les Nuls are? You better order this from Amazon right away.

Notice that it's illustrée in case you can't actually even read. You could actually buy this in the Louvre book store.

By the time we saw the Venus de Milo, I was starving so bad I couldn't read the Louvre map. Fortunately we found the cafeteria before it opened, so I didn't miss out on a chance to eat sooner.

Ella picks the soft middle out of a baguette while JJ eats a nasty salad. I have a hunk of cold quiche to savor on my plate.

After lunch, we if there was anything left to see, so we consulted our Louvre guide and discovered we'd seen exactly 0.000000001% of the collection. But once we'd knocked off Mona Lisa, Ella lost all interest and suggested we go home. So we thought maybe she'd be interested in the Egyptian Antiquities. It was a nice thought, but it was incorrect.

We voted and even after best of of three votes, Ella lost.

This sphinx was the size of a car.

Three thousand year old kitty cats for Nana and Grand-Dan. You can't take these home with you, though. They're behind glass!

Ella loved these giant feet. This was her favorite piece from the entire day. She was exceptionally bored prior to seeing these feet. After, she was extraordinarily bored.

Some Pharaoh or other, but he looks all mysterious and cool with this lighting.

More cats. Imagine the vet bill!

Perhaps my favorite work of art of the day was not at the Louvre. I saw this guy on the way home. Someone just added a couple cartoon eyes, and we have this:

We'd come a long way to get to Paris and we weren't leaving without checking some biggies off the list. Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, Old Man and Young Boy (no, it's okay), etc. The problem is that everyone who comes to Paris has the same plan. Like that tiny lady who shoved me. Well, I payed it forward. So, old guy with the cane, if you're reading this, I'm really sorry about what happened on the stairs . . .

Quiet Day at Home

While JJ was off getting her hair cut, I stayed home with Ella. Most of my time was spent working on a new song, so it was a good day in that respect. Unfortunately for our readers, I don't have much else to report.

For Ella, it was a bit boring today. Inspired by her namesake, Ella was no doubt thinking, "if you ain't got no Sling, you ain't got a thing! What-to-watch, what-to-watch, what-to-watch, what-to-watch?"

With no Slingbox flinging American TV, she was singing the blues. She watched some French cartoons, but quickly grew bored. So then she played games on the computer for quite a while. Eventually I was able to find an episode of Spongebob off a somewhat iffy website.

(Let me elaborate before I get an email from Nana. By "iffy" I mean I question the legality of them streaming the show, but not "iffy" in that the site was in anyway dangerous for Ella or anyone else.)

Eventually I noticed Ella starting to droop, so I suspected she needed something to eat. Inspired, I took her to McDonald's for lunch, thinking we could get some chicken nuggets that she would enjoy. We got them, but she did not enjoy them.  My Big Mac was better than the ones back home, however. They must have added a touch of something special to the secret sauce. That, or I was starving.

On the other hand, it doesn't seem to matter where in the world you go. Whoever makes the burgers at McDonald's is incapable of getting all the layers aligned with the bun. I would have taken a picture of the cockamamie job they made of stacking the two all beef patties, etc, but I was too hungry. An armless monkey could have gotten it on straighter if he had to frisbee it from a tree and onto the nose of a speeding cheetah.

Ella enjoyed the idea of McDonald's far more than she enjoyed the food. She judged le jus de pomme to be delish, however.

So later in the afternoon JJ sashay's in with her new hair on. Fierce! Of course, being the makeover maven that I am, I needed to create a video of the reveal:

So that's a pretty sassy hairdo, if I do say so myself . . . which I do.
This video is also of interest because you can see part of our apartment. We were informed that the owner lives in Hong Kong, hence the asian furniture and decor. The round table to JJ's right is our "dining" table, but it also is where I store random receipts, brochures, loose change and umbrellas.

Mama on the Town

Today was the BIG day -- my trip to the French salon! I also have a big shopping day on Friday, but I've been growing my hair out for the past six months. It's been driving me crazy, so I couldn't wait "changer de coiffure."

I hired Heather Price (fashion consultant and stylist originally from Virginia) to hook me up and translate. She set up an 11 a.m. appointment with Benjamin and Sara at the tres chic Alexandre Zouari salon.

This was going to be the first time I went out on the town by myself. I did my homework to find that the best route was to leave from the Hotel De Ville metro station across the river, take the #1 line to Franklin D. Roosevelt and transfer to the the #9 line to get off at Alma-Marceau.

I left an hour early with the street map in my purse, because I still had to find my way to the salon once I left the metro. No problems getting there, except the metro was stopped at the Hotel De Ville for quite a while before we left. They said something in French, probably about the delay, but obviously I didn't have a clue.

I jumped off the metro at Alma-Marceau (and this is the tricky part for me) I had to pick an exit. I chose the Pont de l'Alma exit and VOILA! I exited right there at Zouari about 20 minutes early.

Heather was going to meet me at the salon, so I didn't want to show up without my personal stylist/interpreter. I walked the neighborhood (mostly residential and business) and went inside a pharmacy. I bought a pumice stone and left.

Finally it was about 10:55 so I headed back to the salon. Heather was nowhere to be found, so I walked up to the desk. They spoke a little English, so we were able to find my appointment under the name "Price" naturalment.

They sent me to the dressing room where the salon worker spoke no English. She spoke a lot of French with the word "colour" in it. I said, "Oui, color." She gave me a robe and (in French) said that they weren't responsible for color getting on my clothes.

I went in to the dressing room and took off my shirt, because that's what I do at the salon at home and that's what it seemed like she wanted me to do. BUT there was no tie on the robe, so maybe I should just put the robe on over my shirt? But she said something about "nous ne sommes pas responsable" so I decided to leave the shirt off and leave the dressing room clutching my robe around me.

No worries! As soon as I stepped through the curtain the salon worker whipped a sash around my waist and tied it. Must be the extra service that I'm paying for ...

Still no Heather, so I wandered back to the reception area. They called my colorist Sara who thankfully spoke more English than anyone else I'd encountered. She took me to a seat and called Benjamin over. They discussed my hair saying it was very ashy and heavy, which made me feel more confident despite the language barrier, because both those things are true.

Sara said she wanted to go more golden blonde, while Benjamin said I needed more volume and layers and layers. They still seemed on the right track. Sara left and Benjamin began to do some major razor cutting. Then he cut bangs. Then he framed my face, and thinned it all out some more. He tossled it around and it looked great already. The odd part was that he worked mostly while sitting on a stool, because the chairs didn't raise and lower. Maybe all hair stylists should work from a seated position -- it seems like it would save their legs and feet.

Still no Heather, so Sara took me upstairs. Heather arrived while Sara was busy talking to her Japanese assitant. Heather said that she'd had taxi problems, but was happy to see that I had forged ahead. She discussed the color with Heather and they were in agreement about a two-color process of golden blonde.

Heather and I chatted while Sara did her thing. No foils here! She hand-painted the entire head, using some cotton to separate a few of the areas. Heather left to get us a couple of Cocas while I waited for the color to process. I was reading frommy Kindle when she returned, and she definitely had Kindle-envy. So did Sara, but the Japanese assistant thought it was old hat!

Color complete, so we headed to the sinks. They must have shampooed my hair for about 20 minutes. They seriously used about 5 different products on it. For the last one, the Japanese assistant came and massaged my scalp.

Then it was back downstairs to Benjamin for the final cut. They sat me in a different chair, because here, the stylist moves from station to station instead of having a home-base that's their own. You might wonder how they can do this with all the hairstyling products and irons that they need and prefer? Well ...

... they don't use them!! Benjamin had a small Louis Vuitton pencil bag that held his scissors and razors. And they all carry this tote full of brushes of all different sizes. They ONLY use a hairbrush and dryer to do all of the sculpting. He made a few more snips, then added a small amount of pomade (also in his LV bag) and that was it! Oh and by the way, he had another assistant do most of the drying, he just came in for the end.

So far, I love my hair. It's not too far removed from how I usually wear it. I always reserve my final assessment for after I wash it and do it myself. But it looked good when Benjamin tousseled it (before the styling), so I'm pretty sure it's a good cut.

Now back to the neighborhood, right on schedule since I told Eric I'd probably be back around 3 p.m. But I jumped out of the Hotel De Ville station and saw that BHV department store we'd passed yesterday. I just had to go in and explore ...

Seven floors of almost everything imaginable. I bought a pair of tights on Level 0, because I didn't pack any and, yes, it's cool enough to wear tights in June. Then I headed up to Level 6 to the Mode Enfant department. Lots of cute clothes for Ella, but I was on a different mission.

Ella came to Paris with her Nintendo DS, computer, a couple of coloring books and some stuffed animals. I wanted to buy her some new/novel toys while we were here. Last week I gave her my first Barbie, which was also my moms -- a 1960-something redhead who resembles Lucille Ball. So I wanted to get Lucy a friend, and fortuately the BHV toy section had Barbies.

I came back to the flat just a few minutes late, with a new blonde Barbie who washes dogs and a new Barbie outfit and accessories. So Ella's happy; I'm happy; Eric's happy.

I'd have to say that my first day on the town was a fabulous success!

Pompidou, Pompyoudon't

For today's adventure we decided to walk across the river to the Pompidou Center, a museum of modern art and design. The building itself is famous for being inside out. You see the support and mechanical ductwork all over the outside.

To me it looks like a construction project still in progress. The hamster habitrail you see is the escalator system that takes you up to each floor.

I guess it's kind of cool, but also seemed kind of dingy to me. We bought our tickets and headed up to the top floor and started with a couple of temporary exhibitions for a couple of artists I'd never heard of and can't remember now. One of them was pretty neat. He made sculptures out of wire. I liked the effect of it. Turn it one way and it looks like a mangled coat hanger, turn it another and it looks like a 6th grader drew a face with a sharpie.

The other exhibit was for a russian dude, but it wasn't up my alley and I was about to fall asleep from starvation. So we headed out of the building, across the street to have lunch. Pizza. Delicious. Felt much better.

Back to the Pompidou and . . . I lost my ticket. Nowhere to be found. Not in my pocketses, not anywhere. So that's how the Pompidou becomes the Pompyoudon't.

We headed back to our apartment. To bad we'd already had lunch, because we could have stopped for flunch!

Did I mention it was raining and about 50 degrees? We were dressed for 65 and sunny. We were Les Miserables!

That's Why I'm Easy, Easy like Dimanche Matin

After spending a week walking 50 miles per day, we decided to take a day of rest. That means we stayed in for almost the whole day. I had to take a nap almost as soon as I got up.

It isn't like we didn't DO anything. We did get the Da Vinci Coded watched. Ella played computer games for a while, then she shut the lid, climbed up on mama and fell asleep in two breaths. After the movie, JJ napped while I went next door to the famous Shakespeare Book store. The SBS is full of old books, in English. Ho hum. I didn't see any way to get them on my Kindle, so I left them all there.

I walked through the touristically "quaintesque" Rue de la Huchette, where you can buy crepes, gyros and dine in many restaurants. It was a nice, rainy walk.

As for sightseeing, it's difficult to accomplish much without leaving the apartment, but we did see the inside of St. Suplice and the Louvre (by watching the Da Vinci Code)!

During my walk I noticed that French bookstores feature some of the most boring looking books of all times. I decided I would fake up something that would fit right in. All you need is a moody looking black and white photo, a dull title and you've got a book. It doesn't matter there's no actual text inside, since no-one would read it anyway.

Post-Obamathon Rundown

Obamathon at Notre Dame Cathedral from Eric Edstrom on Vimeo.

Montmartre, Stuffed Animals, and an Obamathon

Saturday, rainy, cool. Let's go to Montmartre and see the basilica!

High on a hill, the basilica offers amazing views of paris. But first, you have to get up there. Instead of taking the funicular ("we don't need no frickin' funicular"), we chose to climb all the stairs.

Then you behold the church, which to my uneducated eye seems pretty neat. The guide books tell you that it's architecturally controversial, which means ugly. Whatever. It was built 100 years ago.

We went inside and looked at the stained glass and tried to be quiet because there was mass going on, but no worries. They want you to come through to make sure you hit up the gift shop, or light one of the 456,324 candles available. Not being Catholic, I felt I had special dispensation to not do either of those things.

Instead we climbed up to the dome and looked out.

Ella is not defending the church against invading Nazi's, she's looking out of the free part of the telescope at the top the church.

We climbed down the 300 steps and had some lunch. The Crepes Complet was delish! Cheese, ham and a sunny-side up egg on top. But it was still early, so we hopped on the mètro and zoomed down to Jardin des Plantes, which is a huge park.

It's a long walk once you get there. We were headed to that building in the distance because we thought there were dinosaurs in there. Instead it was filled with stuffed animals, but not the toy kind.

Ella thought it was awesome. I tried not to fall asleep. It was very dark in there, and unbelievably boring. I'm actually falling asleep just writing about it.

We returned home after a quick grocery stop. I thought, this is it. Today is finis! But noooooooo.

Police are swarming all over, sidewalk barricades have been erected and crowds are gathering outside Notre Dame Cathedral again.

Turns out the Obama family is coming to tour the church. So out we go to stand around and wait, and wait and wait and wait and wait. But then the motorcade arrives and slips down to a side door, so we can't see any Obamas. Just the secret service guys perched on the north tower eye-balling us through their rifle scopes.

Eventually I spotted them coming out on to a balcony on the south tower. Yes, out of the 10,000 people waiting around, I was the first one who saw them. That's what I tell myself to make believe it was worth standing around and waiting for. They waved down to the crowed, pointed off into the distance, and took some photos.

Part of the security detail scanning the crowd for bad guys. I know you can't see him, he's in the secret service, after all. Click the pic to see!

This is our close-up of the Obamas. Yes, this is our close-up. If you click on the image you might be able to spot some people up on the right tower.

Then we watched all the cars and motorcycles drive off.

So to summarize, we stood around for a couple hours in order to watch some cars drive up, some ant-sized people stand on a balcony 150 feet away, and then watch the cars drive off. And to think, we were planning to lounge around and watch the Da Vinci Code.