Since last Friday, the sun has been shining as bright as it ever has in Paris, and Gui and I have been taking full advantage of the beautiful weather all weekend.  Our friend, Juliet had the foresight to plan a barbecue on the most perfect day we’ve had all year, around which we gladly planned our weekend.  Our first stop on Saturday was at my favorite local marché (on Avenue Président Wilson).  Although Gui doesn’t agree with me, it totally beats out the Avenue Versailles marché which is held on Sundays and is about 15 minutes closer to our apartment.  It’s not like it’s really a “better” marché, but to me, it just seems more authentic…more “French.”  And, besides being fooled by fake farm-fresh eggs, the products just seem nicer – and the people do, too.

One of the many perks (and quite possibly the best one) of my job includes priority access to many vente privées throughout the year.  A vente privée literally translates to "private sale," but saying it in English doesn't quite give off the same meaning as when I hear it in French.  I'd compare it more to a special few days when guests can shop a brand name at their leisure and pay for their items at a very generous employee discount.  Sometimes, this means that the sale will be full of past seasons' collections or off-colored and blemished items, but that is not usually the norm.

Last year, I attended my first vente privée in Paris, and it was such an adrenaline rush. Usually, a huge line forms before the sale begins, and depending on the brand's popularity, it could continue throughout the day.  Most sales are held in spaces or warehouses specifically designed and purposed for such, which means they are professionally staffed with people who run these kinds of private sales for a living.  Nothing but wallets and cell phones are permitted on the selling floor, so a mandatory coat and purse check is the first place to visit after showing your invitation and ID to the security guard at the door (once you've finally made it there).  Then, you grab a massive plastic bag and fill it with as many shoes, purses, wallets, and clothes your heart desires before finally sorting it out into "keep" and "sadly leave behind" piles.

There are no dressing rooms to try your clothes on, so oftentimes, you'll catch a glimpse at someone's undies or see people posing with their hangered treasures in front of the few mirrors available.  Most bags, shoes and haute couture items are placed on shelved walls guarded by staff members who stand in front of the shelves and behind a table of display bags.  You can usually grab what you want from the table, but if you notice something sparkling on the shelf, you can simply ask for it from the staff member.

As much as it all sounds like such a privileged and organized event, it can get pretty ugly.  I went to a sale a few weeks ago on its third day of opening (vente privées can last anywhere from one to five or more days), and could not believe the chaos that normally respectable ladies were causing ... for fabric bags, no less!  The staff can only stock so much on display, so the rest is left hidden "backstage" in cardboard boxes that don't give any indication as to what's in them. For deal-desperate shoppers, this means that as the day goes on, there will be more stock with possibly newer items available for sale, so, someone's dream bag could be trapped in a cardboard box and not come out until the end of the sale.  And, that's what these "ladies" were hoping would happen for them if they waited and pushed long enough.  Despite there being limits on how many bags and shoes can be purchased, these women had gobs of handbags well over the limit and had invited every friend, neighbor and cousin to come with them so they could amass the most stock possible.  I could barely stand the insanity, so I left empty-handed from that sale and swore to never again wait to come when the invitation is extended beyond the employees of the company (it's usually open to anyone with an invite after the first day).

There are a few "big" brands that everyone looks forward to but are really strict on the amounts of items you can buy and whether or not you can bring a guest (you usually can't for the popular brands).  And, as for the prices, well, they're quite good considering the brand that's being sold and the retail prices that the items would normally sell for.  But, these are expensive goods we're talking about here, so it's kind of just relative.

My job has definitely fed my desire for fancy purses and logoed shoes that I never really had so much before. Women at my office are often dressed head to toe in recognizable designer threads, so walking around in my Zara dress, H&M heels and Gap handbag doesn't turn many heads for the right reason.  And, mostly I'm OK with that.  I never buy everything I want, but I often rationalize my rare vente privée splurges by reminding myself that every Parisienne needs a nice handbag (or four) and that I won't have access to the sales once my work contract is up.  Now, rationalizing my need for three more handbags to Gui, well that's another story, and obviously, he's no longer sensitive to my so-called "need" to fit in.

I'm not really a last minute kind of gal.  I like to plan ahead, make reservations, shop around and do everything I can to ensure that whatever is happening is done so in the smoothest and most efficient way possible.  I don't mind saying yes to a last-minute invitation or hop off to a movie or dinner on the spur of the moment, but when making plans to, say, host a party or take a trip, quick decisions make me nervous and wary. 

This weekend, though, I caught the most wretchedly dire homesickness that I've ever had in my life and nothing could coax me out of my funk.  Gui and I grabbed happy hour and a movie on Friday evening (Alice in Wonderland in 3D - beautiful film but the jury's still out on the storyline and oddly-added solo dance), and then had some Tex-Mex for dinner, but I could barely eat from being so run amok with thoughts about my family and how much I miss them.  Everything reminded me of my nephews and my far-away friends - now mostly parents of little ones - that I don't see often enough.  I felt awful and tried doing things to distract myself, but nothing worked to deter my thoughts. 

On Sunday, we had lunch with Gui's dad and sister at the same place we took my mom to on her first and only trip to Paris, and I struggled to keep it together.  It was hard to stay composed when they asked how I was doing, how my job was going, and how my family and new nephews where getting along - normal stuff.  My heart was totally longing to be near them, to hold my new nephews and run around like a kid with the others.  Gui and I talked about our trip in June and all the things we'll do while we're there, all the people we'll see.  But, in doing this, we realized how little time we'll actually have to see everyone we want to see.  Between Kansas and Austin and Dallas and the traveling between each, two weeks is just not enough time. 

Monday morning rolled around and I was in such a foul mood.  I dragged myself out of bed, threw on the first black dress I saw, tights and boots, trudged slowly to the bus without much care about the time or my tardiness and then, with immense difficulty bonjoured everyone in the office and sputtered off a lie when they asked how I was doing.  I just couldn't be bothered with the day; with anything. How did it get to this?

Despite my lingering Monday workload, all I could think of was leaving - leaving the office, leaving Paris, leaving France.  Just leaving.  I was so incredibly sad and felt so incredibly guilty about being so sad.  All I could think of was going home - being home with my parents, sister, brothers, nephews, friends and their babies.  I just wanted to be near them all. 

So, as an act of desperation, I checked flights to Texas and flights to Kansas and realized that I could visit my sister (and brother-in-law and 3 out of 4 of my nephews) in Kansas by cashing in on our frequent-flyer miles and paying about half the normal price of a ticket.  Originally, I thought about going for a long weekend - taking advantage of the Monday holiday, I could leave Friday night and come back on Sunday, but Gui thought that was just too crazy.  He reminded me that I work in France, and when my contract is all said and done, I still won't have used up all of my paid vacation and RTT (days accumulated each month that act like paid vacation).  So, I guiltily asked my boss if he would mind my taking a few extra days off - even though I'd already taken two days the week before, and he was totally cool with it.  More than cool.  He waved his hand and told me to take whatever days I need to and not to worry about any asking in advance.  I was elated.


I don't know if this last-minute trip will make everything better or if I'll return with a renewed feeling of positivity and happiness, but I know it will do me some good.  Just knowing that I'm leaving on Thursday morning to finally meet my new nephew and see my loved ones has already made such a difference in my mind.  I've never planned a transatlantic flight so spontaneously before, and this time it's not about how smoothly everything goes or how efficiently my time is spent.  Once I see those toothy grins and hear those hearty grunts from the sweetest boys in all the world, my thoughts will be light-years away from the trifles of time and economics. 

…and stuff.

Gui and I were recently invited to the top-secret, velvety-drape-lined K&K boudoir to be guests on the ever-popular podcast hosted by fellow Paris-based expats, Katia and Kyliemac. We’ve known these lovelies for some time now, having met them through the shrinking circle of expat friends that we’ve been lucky enough to have made here. They’re a rather dynamic duo who dish the dirt on life as anglophone transplants in Paris and offer tidbits and advice on how to survive the often bittersweet streets of this bipolar city.

I’ve always secretly wondered what it would be like to be a guest on their show – if costumes were the preferred dress code attire and if cocktails and pineau really did pour freely. Now I gladly know that the answers to my thoughtful queries are indeed, yes and YES.

Gui and I enjoyed bottomless Muffin Manmade rhum-rhums while recounting the tales of how we met, how we managed a long-distance relationship and how we eventually got to Paris. They refilled our glasses and we stayed to record a second episode where we talked about cultural differences in the workplace. It was loads of fun, and I even learned a bit about Gui that I never knew (like how much he missed the morning taco-truck at work).

I’ve got to say, it’s a little unsettling listening to my recorded voice (which I think sounds like a mix between valley-girl and cowgirl), but the K&K team have really got their technical shiz together!  Listening to their show is such an indulgence that I gladly make time for and being on the show felt like a real honor.  Walking home after such a fabulous time spent chatting with friends, Gui remarked on how great of a souvenir the podcast will make for the future us and our eventual offspring. And, he’s so right.

I'm linking our podcast debuts here, but the K&K website has every episode from 1 to 324, and you can also subscribe to their biweekly shows on iTunes (like I do)! 

I wore 4-inch heels on my first day of work and I surprisingly didn't regret it. It might have had something to do with my adrenaline pushing at full speed for most of the day, but I'm sure it helped that I was spending my entire day working in one of the most luxurious offices in Paris for the finest luxury goods company in the world. Without going into too much detail, I will say that I really lucked out with my job search, and I could not have dreamed up a better place to kick off my career in Paris - French-style.

I'm not going to lie - my new job (assisting a team in a financial capacity) is no walk in the park, but I'm so thrilled to be back in the saddle again, with looming deadlines and major responsibilities. From the moment I walked in the door, I felt the pressure of expectation that I had been so dearly missing and longing for these past several months. My colleagues put me straight to work...in French, bien sûr, leaving me no time to stop and ponder the subjunctive or consider synonyms for my overused adjectives. Like I said: no walk in the park. But, I surprisingly soaked it all up, understood every last preposition as if my life depended on it, and came to the conclusion that I'm really going to like my new job.

I've never been so happy to be so insanely busy in my life. It feels great to be challenged; to know that even though I'm good at something now, I'm probably going to be great at it soon. Really, the only time I felt remotely inadequate was when I took a tour of the floor and had to meet (read: make small-talk) with everyone else. I'm waiting (impatiently) for my professional communication skills to improve, but I'm proud to have already made it this far.

I've still got a long way to go, I know. For the moment, though, I'm ecstatic! And, after putting in a nearly 10-hour day, I came home to a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of the most delicious champagne I've ever tasted. Then, I was treated to a three-course meal at my favorite restaurant in Paris (and the same one that we dined at after our wedding). Gui definitely knows how to celebrate new beginnings!

I will say, though, that getting into a new routine that involves early evenings and even earlier mornings is not going to be so easy for me. I've been so used to going to bed and getting up at my own leisure, that waking up before it's daylight is not such an easy transition. So, I'm off to get some rest before another exciting and busy day commences. Tomorrow I'm looking forward to digging my feet into the pile of work that I've gotten myself into, but I think I'm going to give my heels a rest and maybe sport a pair of stylish flats instead.

I might be the only person in Paris who checks the weather forecast every single morning before getting dressed and occasionally in the evening before going to bed. It's something I've done for as long as I can remember, and it started when I was a kid in school. I'd wake up every morning, open the doors to my closet and holler down the hallway to my mom for the day's forecast. "Mom, do you know if it's going to be cold today?" Usually the response was, "it's chilly outside, but it's supposed to warm up later on this afternoon," which is about right for a typical day in Austin. I've always been one to dress for the weather; sweaters for chilly mornings, rain boots and jeans (but never shorts) for rainy days, flip-flops for sunny days (but never when it's cold outside), etc.

Dressing for the weather in Paris didn't come as easy as it had in Austin where you've got a pretty good chance that it's going to be the same weather each day as it was the day before. But, for a while now I've relied on the weather channel to keep me informed of what to expect, and I have to say it's been much more reliable than even Guillaume thought possible. Last week, our trusty source predicted a sunny and warm weekend, and we got it. Gui and I spent our Sunday soaking up the day's namesake rays and hopping from terrace to terrace in search of the warmest spots. It was a really lovely taste of what's to come soon, and I'm so glad we took full advantage of it before the predicted gray skies and cooler temps rolled in the next day.

Today is no exception to TWC's predictions - we've got sunny skies and cool temps, which one would hope will set the tone for weekend ahead. Unfortunately, it doesn't look promising for the next couple of days, and we've still got some wet weather to get through before what appears to be some warmer and sunnier days ahead next week. So, I'm going to go out and play before those Saturday clouds arrive! I hope you're getting some sun, too wherever you are!

I'm starting to think that this blog would be better served as a seasonal project. Let's face it, taking my hands out of the warmth of my coat pockets to grab my camera for a photo-op is just not going to happen right now. And going outdoors for anything but a quick trip to the grocery store is kind of out of the question, which hopefully explains my lack interesting posts of late. I never knew the consequences of changing seasons, having lived in Texas or Southern California for all of my life, where flip-flops are always an acceptable shoe to wear no matter the time of year. But, that's not how it flies here. How crazy to think that something as simple as a drop in temperature can make the difference between having a social life and not having one. I suppose it doesn't help that right now the core of my responsibilities are hinged on the stock levels of our kitchen and the tidiness of our apartment. (We'll have to see what happens once I start working.)

The weekend is usually more promising in the social department, though, and Gui and I typically spend the two days with family or old friends. This past Sunday, we made it out to Marcq again and spent the afternoon drinking champagne by a roaring fire before devouring a tajine for lunch. It's so nice to be out of Paris, if only for a few hours. The residence there is still up for sale, and there have been a few interested buyers coming 'round, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that Gui and I hit the lottery so we can buy it. It was bitingly cold on Sunday and before leaving Marcq, we talked about Monday's forecast for snow and ice. No doubt, Monday turned into a day of finishing up knitting projects at home.

The thing is that once I'm outside, I'm good to go, so I just need something to kickstart me into motivating myself to leave the apartment. Something like a job or my craving for nachos, which is what's motivating me to get my butt out of the apartment and head for The Great Canadian Pub for dinner tonight. There really isn't anything better than the promise of a good meal to get me going.

I hate to admit it, but I went outside yesterday for the first time since Monday. Gui's mom was coming over for dinner and I knew I would be getting everything ready from about noon because I'm kind of neurotic like that. Leaving the apartment was like coming outside after being swathed in a cocoon for a few days, curious but unsure of what the world would be like now. It reminded me of that movie, I Am Legend, when Will Smith has to stay in hiding all night long until the sun comes back up. Locking the door of the apartment, I felt hopeful that I'd be greeted by warm temps and flip-flop-wearing pedestrians. But, I wasn't. The first guy I ran into was wearing one of those Russian-style fur hats with ear flaps and an ankle-length coat. My hands immediately began to freeze, but I shoved them in my pocket, put my head down and trudged along to Franprix. It was about 10 degrees colder in the store, and my hands went completely numb as I tried to get everything on my list. Neither asparagus nor strawberries were available (madness!), so I had to come up with a new side and dessert dish for the evening. I settled on a salad and moelleux au chocolat (small molten lava cakes).

Everything managed to fall into place for the evening, and I think I'm getting better at hosting dinner. In the past, I always felt a bit of pressure to serve things the "French way," but I'm loosening up a bit more and realizing it's fine to be different. We broke in some new Mikasa glassware we got for Christmas, and dined well on roasted chicken, salade composée, gratin savoyarde, and a nice red wine. I decided that I really enjoy dinners like this - at a dinner table and with proper dinnerware - as Gui and I tend to be more casual when we're getting our grub on (read: eating on a serving tray in front of the TV).

While I was preparing the gravy, Gui let his mom know that we're seriously considering moving to Austin in a year or so. It's something we discussed during our last trip and we've been talking about it since. I'd always known that we'd move back to the States someday, but it was a surprise to hear Gui tell me he'd like to move there soon - like in a year. Of course, I'm ecstatic about the idea, but there's still loads of stuff to work out before we make any concrete plans. It's difficult for me to think about Gui leaving his family and friends because I know how hard it's been for me. Despite his overwhelming reassurances, I still feel like he'd really miss his home, and I don't want him to have any regrets or disappointments once we leave. I could tell his mom was sad when he mentioned it, a little surprised and slightly disappointed. It's hard not to feel like I'm taking her baby away from her.

But, we have a lot of time to work everything out and make some final decisions. These past couple of weeks, though, I've really enjoyed being back in Paris. Sure, Winter in Paris blows, but I've still managed to stay light-hearted and optimistic even through the dreariest days. I know that Spring and Summer are around the corner, and despite having been properly seduced by the charm of my hometown, I'll admit that I'm a little worried that Paris might win me over yet.

Talk about some writer's blogger's block! I don't know what's gotten into me these days, but every time I remind myself that I have a blog to keep up with, I feel less and less inspired to write anything. I have a couple of posts just lingering about in my draft box, composed of meaningless drivel and pointless remarks on trite, day-to-day encounters. It sucks to feel so uninspired, especially when there's been a lot of socializing going on around these parts lately. Perhaps my lack of inspiration is coming from my current state of disarray about the transition I'm making from student to graduate (of sorts). Classes are over, and my mind is in a sort of state of shock as it tries to come to terms with its newfound freedom. Now, instead of finding interest (or disinterest) in the smallest of things - like the gloomy weather or the last movie I saw, it's feeling a little overwhelmed with the bigger picture - like what in the heck am I supposed to do next, and how do I spend my days without spending all our money? But as those latter, more profound questions are neither here nor there, it seems pointless to waste an entire post on trying to answer them. Instead, let me talk about the fun times that I've been having around Paris.

Last Sunday, Gui and I spent the afternoon with his dad's side of his family at a birthday party for his great-aunt and great-uncle who were celebrating a combined 160 years of life. I remember meeting them for the first time at our wedding; they hugged me and kissed me like I was already family, and then spoke to me in rapid-fire French while I widened my eyes and grinned. Seeing them again this time was not any different, except that after saying only a word or two in French, they praised me on my progress. (How on earth could they know that I've progressed after only saying, "Bonjour, oui, très bien, merci. Et, vous?") Of course there was a six-course meal served, songs were performed by the sons and daughters of the hosts, and they even hired a theater group to perform a few scenes. It was unlike any birthday party I've ever attended, but it was really enjoyable. Gui's family are all incredibly generous and kind, and I'm finding myself easily opening up to them and feeling more and more a part of the family. It's a good feeling.


On Monday, I headed over to La Sorbonne to read an excerpt from a story and answer questions about it during my fifteen-minute oral exam. This part of the test counts for something like 30% of my final grade, but I was confident after the "très bien, Sarah" comment my professor gave me when it was all over. I breathed a sigh of relief, and went along with a few other relieved students to celebrate our accomplishment with a tasty lunch and casual conversation about how hard learning a new language (especially French) is. It was a really great way to end the semester, I thought, even if I never have the chance to see any of them again.

Of course Tuesday was spent watching the tides turn and our new president take office. Apparently, all of Paris was in search of a place to watch history being made, which left us stuck outside of an overcrowded bar and in search of a TV. We found hope in a kitshy, American diner that appeared like a neon beacon at the end of the same street as the bar. We arrived before the crowds and snagged a table front-and-center with a perfect view of the screen. Over fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks, we watched it all unfold and then raised our glasses of red French table wine to toast to our new president. I doubt I'll be forgetting that moment anytime soon.


Wednesday nights are spent with the knitting group at L'Oisive Thé, and are designated "cook your own dinner, I'm going to knit" nights. (I don't think Gui minds, actually.) Since finishing my first scarf, I've become somewhat of an addict about knitting. I've spent hours and hours pouring over the Ravelry website, gushing at some the things people can make with a couple of needles and a ball of yarn. The possibilities are endless, which makes it so hard for me to choose what to tackle next. I'm realizing, though that it's not a cheap hobby to have and that a little investment is required to get started on the more rewarding projects. I recently ordered a set of Addi-click needles and am now anxiously awaiting their arrival so I can get started on some of those more challenging patterns. I'll admit that half of the fun is picking out patterns and choosing the yarn - I never knew there were so many choices!

I picked up some sale yarn on Thursday afternoon after a trip to the first cupcake boutique in Paris. Sam invited me to meet up with her, Leesa and Dawn to scope out Cupcakes & Co in the 11th arrondissement. I honestly didn't have very high expectations, so the cold, dense cupcake I dug into wasn't such a disappointment. The cupcakes were pretty, the frosting was tasty and made with true-blue Philly cream cheese, but the final product wasn't really worth raving about. I still had a good time and got some cheap yarn out of it, too!



This weekend turned out to be jam-packed with fun stuff with fun peeps. Gui and I checked out Slumdog Millionaire on Friday and loved it. I cried like a baby, of course, but totally dug the whole bollywood influence. The soundtrack will be mine! We finished off the night with a tex-mex dinner and a mosquito cocktail at El Rancho, which hit the spot. Saturday's lunch date with Juliet and Marc turned into an all-day event. We started out at Les Pâtes Vivantes (as usual, thank you, Mr. Lebovitz) for a [very] late lunch, and after being shooed out of there before we could have dessert, we headed over to Île Saint-Louis for some delicious Berthillon ice cream. We opted out of going bowling and decided to skip right on over to happy hour at one of our favorite bars in the 5th. Juliet introduced us to the best mojitos in Paris (and cheapest, too!) while she ran down a list of all the things she's lost to the streets or cabs or bars of the big city. There was some sort of blackout in the bar, so we downed our drinks and headed over to Belleville where we ended the eventful night in the company of old friends and preppy-dressed punk-rockers.

I managed to roll out of bed today in time to meet up for a 2 p.m. jazz brunch on the same street as the cupcake shop. It's the first time I've ever been to a buffet in Paris, and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. There was a great variety of food (although not much in the form of traditional breakfast grub), bottomless OJ, wine, coffee and tea, and a slightly lacking, yet still delicious spread of desserts. The music wasn't without praise either, and I found the entire ambiance of the restaurant strikingly harmonious. It'll definitely be at the top of the list of places to take people visiting Paris in search of a good Sunday brunch. It's the closest I've seen in Paris to the real deal (although, it'd be nicer if they swapped out the bottomless wine for bottomless mimosas...or bloody marys).

We don't celebrate saint days in the States - well, not on any grand scale that I'm aware of, anyway. But, in France, each day commemorates a saint, and if your name happens to be that of a saint, you can expect someone to wish you a happy saint's day. Today was Saint-Guillaume Day - or Saint William of Bourges Day, so Gui received a barrage of text messages and voicemails wishing him a bonne fête, which pretty much just wishes him a happy holiday. I find the whole French approach to religion strikingly oxymoronic, but I like the idea of having a commemorative "feastday" (as they describe on the catholic.org website) simply because you share the name of a saint. Who doesn't love feast days?

There isn't much to say about Saint Guillaume de Bourges except that he was a man who did lots of good things in his short life, like take care of the poor and less fortunate than him. However, I did note a couple of things of interest about him (well, to me, anyway). He performed 18 miracles in his life and 18 after. Not only is that just seriously impressive, but it is a pretty well-known fact that 18 is my lucky number. He was the canon (priest) of Paris at some point, but eventually decided to abandon the big city lifestyle for a more simple life in the north of France. I also find it pretty neato that he was canonized on May 17th, which just happens to be my birthday. Knowing all of this, I'd like to say that Saint Guillaume and I would be pretty solid pals if he were living now or had I been living back in the late 12th century. I'm quite content, still, with knowing that I'll be reminded of his goodness and grace every year that we celebrate his accomplishments via his modern-day namesake.