Huh? Not enjoy Paris?
One such reader, who clearly doesn’t actually ‘read’ because she misspelled my name from the very outset, also managed to misinterpret just about everything that was written, by remarking how my “last entry” made her wonder “about the veracity of [my] claim to enjoy life in Paris.”
Huh? Not enjoy Paris?
She went on to assert that “It is evident, after your divorce, daughter leaving the nest and the financial crisis, that you have suffered a great deal. It is often painfully apparent in your writing. Perhaps those are some of the reasons you seem to be ‘cocooning’ — seeking comfort by attacking a Paris that now seems hostile to you.”
Huh? Cocooning? Hostile?
This got a big laugh from those in the ‘bleachers’ and one friend, wrote that her “insightfu
l analysis of you and your problems, your chronic unhappiness and the pathetic level to which you have fallen, when compared to her own serene and perfect adjustment to the world, is chillingly like the smug, superior, self-righteous emails sent to me by my ex-wife.” That got a big laugh, too…from me.
Nonetheless, your voice is as good as gold and we love hearing it, particularly when it offers another point of view. We all need that in order to keep our minds open to…life, whether it be here, or there or anywhere. Thank you.
Then, Saturday night, as the city was coming back alive after a month of vacuous-ness and abandonment while the Parisians took their month-long vacations, Sylvia Howard sang the blues at the jazz club, Le Duc des Lombards. She’s an American in Paris on and off for the last ten years, who I first encountered at “Bojangles,” a soul food restaurant run by Sharon Morgan, another American in Paris, that was popular here about 10 years ago…and for too short a time, in my opinion.
Sylvia was one of several who used to bestow their vocal and musical talents upon us at Bojangles on the weekends, including at least one of the musicians who played with her Saturday night. It was at Bojangles that we “honkies” got our soul, R and B and gospel ‘fixes’ until the residents living above the restaurant complained and shut it down in lieu of their own tranquility. “Quel dommage!”
While Sylvia is quite a formidable talent, her accompaniment on piano, bass fiddle and trumpet were outstanding. What was most surprising, however, was the audience. The faces in the front rows were not at all what I expected. Mostly, they were “honkies” like us, not looking at all ‘soulful’ or moving to the music as we were, and I wondered who they were and why they were there. Guess I was expecting the audience to be a little more like the crowd at Bojangles — a mix of every color and nationality with a strong African American/Black American (forgive me if the terminology is not up to date) leaning…naturally.
By Sunday the streets were swarming with a mix of tourists and Parisians…back to work, back to school, back to life. It’s “La Rentrée” and that means an insane rush to catch up from a month of neglecting their duties. For us, who weathered the August vacuous-ness, we are relieved that we can go back to doing just our jobs and not everyone else’s, too.
A la prochaine…
Editor, Parler Paris
P.S. I am very pleased to report that our summer-long task of completing “Le Palace des Vosges” has come to fruition, just in time for the official inauguration this Wednesday. Photos were taken yesterday afternoon are a ‘sneak preview’ of the stable-turned-storage-turned-residence-turned-luxury fractional ownership property are online for your viewing pleasure: Le Palace des Vosges