5 September 2008

little joys

I’ve been eating well in Paris, of course: potato-leek soup with fresh thyme; salted roast chicken with mustard and an apple-fennel-celeriac salad; baguette with creamy brie and deep red tomatoes; organic muesli with fat raspberries, yogurt, honey and mint… and I haven’t even been to a restaurant yet. I’m surprised to find that a lot of food is cheaper here than in New York, even with the weak dollar. There’s a huge bi-weekly market just outside my door, almost like my beloved Union Square, but oh so much closer… For €13 there (about 19 bucks today) I bought 2 fancy pieces of cheese, 2 melons, 6 apples, mint, lettuce, a large cod filet, a big bag of lentils and a bunch of fresh tomatoes. The cheese alone would have cost me that in New York, and wouldn’t have been nearly as good.

What is not so good is my French. It’s sad, as I’ve always had a tongue for languages – I can order coffee and offend your sister in German, I can bargain and tease in Spanish, and I can say (badly) “I don’t know Cantonese” in Cantonese. I can do all these things and more* in French (I studied it in high school – oh hell that’s 20 years ago!) but I feel suddenly slow and stupid here. I just haven’t had a real chance to work on it. My longest conversation so far was with the taxi-driver from the airport, during which we discussed the weather, the arondissements of Paris, when best to visit New York, and how neither of us really cares for Picasso. I couldn’t remember the word for fireplace (it’s cheminée) and found myself saying, “You know, when it’s cold outside and you want a fire in your house…” I’ll get there, I just need to practice.

Today is another gray and rainy day, but I have to walk again, perhaps to the Pompidou. Nothing calms me more than ambulatory and visual pleasures…