November 16, 2012
During my recent visit to the U.S., my sister told everyone that I live in Paris just to marvel at their reactions.
“Just stick a dagger in my heart, why don’t you,” came the response from a cosmetics salesman. “I’d give anything to live in Paris…” It garnered me bonus points in San Francisco’s chic boutiques and even scored us a table at an impossible-to-book restaurant. “My sister’s just in from Paris… hoping you might have something for us at eight?” Pas de problème.
Every expat who lives here knows the feeling. Why? Because Paris is the culmination of our romantic dreams, the city upon which we project our fantasies of a life well lived. We’re the lucky ones who’ve somehow pulled it off. But how?
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Posted in Parisian Living | 29 Comments »
November 14, 2012
The Dordogne river (Doni Belau)
I’m often asked why we bought the house (in France) that we did, in this tiny town whose name we can barely pronounce and that’s even harder to find on a map. What about your first love, Paris? People ask.
Well, I was fortunate enough to have a deliciously beautiful apartment in Paris for six years from which one could hear the bells of St. Sulpice. We eventually had to sell it because the value had gone up considerably and we used what we made to help pay for our children’s college educations.
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Posted in Homes, Travel | 7 Comments »
April 4, 2010
Sometimes I think about my early days in Paris, and all I can do is shake my head with amusement. The blog I began then, A Moveable Beast, now reads like a textbook tale of an awkward (albeit determined) American, attempting to conquer Paris one hard-fought lesson at a time. I quickly found that the best way to “learn” Paris was simply to laugh my way through all the confusion (and to encourage everyone else to laugh at me as I did so). This was my first post—and the beginning of an awesome adventure. Enjoy! – Tory
I live in Paris now. I know this because every morning when I wake up, I experience a brief moment of panicky, delighted confusion… I have no idea where I am!
I remain disoriented until I ask myself the following questions:
Question: What are these sharp things in my bed?
Answer: Baguette crumbs. They were probably stuck to my face when I fell asleep.
Question: Are there alien babies in my room?
Answer: No, just French babies in the courtyard, their voices glittering in the morning light.
Question: Is this butter-infused air I’m breathing?
Answer: Actually, yes. There’s a patisserie next door. Continue Reading »
Posted in Parisian Living | 5 Comments »