don't resist...

things we circled back to and we were so glad

street art in the 11ème arrondissement

Bonjour-Bonjour,

Yesterday we went on an amazing walking/food tour of the 11th arrondissement in Paris. I promise to tell you more about it soon… just know we learned about:

• the importance of beating butter with a tool called a flat-hand, a beurrier to remove liquid. Also, Brittany butter is best because of proximity to the sea. The grass is salty, thus the milk from Brittany cows is salty, thus the beurre is parfait!

• the self-proclaimed - Prince de Paris Jambon

• an Algerian shop with gorgeous bitesized pastries - Diamande (a portmanteau of diamond and almond)

But I want to tell you now about two things that happened after the food tour. Experiences we nearly walked right past. I am so grateful for the circle-back.

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Walking home, Joel, who needed his barbe trimmed, spotted a shop, The BarberNation, for Gents Only. Holy Moly! It was terrific. We hesitated, being the only tourists, the only people without an appointment, the only non-French speakers in the tiny shop. But the language of the beard is universal, no?

They sat my gent right down. They shaved away… buzzed and clipped and straight edged. They steamed. They applied avocado mask.

They told him to relax already! “Détendez-vous déjà! S’il vous plait.” They stroked Stanley, complimented his gorgeous hair. Served him water. They served me a glass of Algerian tea. I complimented their pouring technique… the beautiful metal tea kettle held a mile high, the stream of hot tea landing into the tiny glass! Parfait! They hot toweled the shit out of my gent’s face. They extracted blemishes! They slathered on a clay mask and pointed a blow dryer at his face! My gent kept saying, Am I done? Am I done? What is it about this gent? I’d be relishing the whole experience, chanting in my head, please don’t be done…

They played Burna Boy. The whole thing was a vibe and So Much Fun!

30 minutes later, a shining gent!

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Onward!

If you know me, you know that I have a habit of saying hello to elderly women who promenade seule. And their faces, which sometimes look annoyed, sometimes lost in thoughts of life, sometimes a wee grumpy, always brighten.

I am on a one-woman mission to see them. Maybe I’ve taken on this assignment because older women become invisible. I too am invisible to much of the world. I relish a smiling face on the rue. Or perhaps it’s because I miss my grandma. Or perhaps I’m (still) looking for love from my elders (TMI?) and when I receive a bonjour in return it is me who brightens. Or perhaps I just want to slosh a little love in the world.

As my gent and I rounded a corner, high from the BarberNation experience, I noticed a petite woman, alone, leaning against a building.

“Bonjour, Madame,” I said and lifted my hand. She smiled and nodded. We kept walking, but I felt something wasn’t right. I returned. “Ca-va, Madame?” She was not ca va. She was frightened by the wind and her apartment was across a park and two busy streets. Of course we asked if we could escort her. She gripped my hand, my gent took her bag. Dear Reader, I am so glad we circled back!

I am 5’1” and my new friend came just to my shoulder. She took tiny, cautious steps. She told me she has, “la rhumatisme,” and cannot chew without pain. She’d gone out to buy soft bread. Her hands hurt, her feet hurt. She was not complaining, simply telling me. We spoke also of where I am from, where I have visited in France. She brightened at the mention of Aix-en-Provence, struggled to remember where she’d visited in the states and then her face lit. Florida!

It took us 20 minutes, I understood only a little of what she told me. She was lovely, her hair recently colored, lipstick in place, her dress smart, her eyes the color of a noisette, bright and intelligent. We didn’t escort her into the building as that felt a bit invasive. Maybe we should have? I didn’t know what to do… we are strangers, tourists, uncertain. (Also, maybe TMI, but my gent and I, nous ont du faire pipi—so bad!) I didn’t ask her name… oh damn, now I feel bad.

Why am I telling you this? Because we nearly la-de-dahed right by both of these moments. And while the food tour was terrific, it was these final experiences that made our day.

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Do. The. Thing. In these trying times when so much of the world can seem like crap… Do. The. Thing. Be kind. Go someplace new.

Tell me, when have you done.the.thing.:

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If you missed the last few jewels… no fear! Here are a few everyone seemed to love: re: coffee cups. beans. boobs. doors. mistakes. new friends.

To stay in the loop:

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Here’s my gent, getting his face blown:

Tell your people you love them, and take care of your skin!

merci,