
As the world turns, Selfridges, London.
Ten years ago today, David and I met in New York. A few months later, my daughter Jordana and I moved to London. A year after that, we moved to Paris, for David's job with an international organisation. Jordana attended high school at the American School of Paris and I resurrected my college French and struggled to adjust to French logic. It was my first experience not working for a salary since age 16; initially I didn't appreciate the loss of steady income and control. To lift my spirits, I began frequenting brocantes, flea markets and antiques shops. Soon our apartment was filled with an eclectic collection of art and antiques.
After discovering the endless bureaucracy required to get married in Paris, Jordana, David and I flew to Santa Fe, N.M. Our wedding ironically was at (French) Archibishop Jean-Baptiste Lamy's private chapel. Jordana's friend Vince played acoustic guitar, while she sang Bruce Springsteen's "If I Should Fall Behind." A dozen friends witnessed the happy occasion and later joined us for dinner at the Inn of the Anasazi.
We traveled to many, many places in Europe and the US. At home in Paris, David honed his cooking skills as we hosted hundreds (!) of guests. I became a fan of rugby and horse-racing at Longchamp (although I never bet on horses; just admire and photograph them). My daughter went off to college in the US.
I started this blog and picked up a camera for the first time in many years. I took Eurostar to London at least once a month. I worked on my novel. I wrote poetry. I campaigned for Barack Obama and worked on human rights initiatives. I had a few health woes, but was lucky to have quality medical care in both Paris and London. I studied Spanish in Seville, Spain and photography in London.
I have lived in Paris longer than any city in my adult life (followed by San Francisco and New York). Ten years ago, when David was a guest speaker at an e-commerce conference (at the World Trade Center) and I a writer, covering the conference, I wouldn't have imagined this life. It's had its ups and downs, but for the most part, it's been rich with blessings. While Paris has never felt like home to me, I know we are fortunate. Having traveled as a journalist for much of my adult life, I've learned, as John Cage said, that "we carry our homes within us, which enables us to fly."
Balancing act, Selfridges, London.
P.S. Don't miss your chance to win a copy of Leonard Pitt's new book Paris Postcards! Go here to enter.
"My husband and I went on a short three week holiday having left our very young children with my mother in Australia - it was supposed to be a bit of a second honeymoon. We'd spent a week driving around Ireland - which went well despite me navigating and him having to follow instructions.
"We flew out from Ireland and arrived in Paris on a beautiful, sunny autumn day - it was more like spring than autumn it was so warm.
"After we had checked in at our hotel, we decided to go for a walk - so there we are strolling down the Champs Elysee heading towards the Eiffel Tower. I said something in French. He made fun of my pronunciation and corrected me. He was wrong. I told him so. He asked me what would I know as - after all - he had done French at school. So had I - up to the final year of high school and being younger than him - my experience of high school French was more recent and far broader. He wasn't having a bar of it. Neither was I. The whole discussion quickly disintegrated into an embarrassing public slanging match, culminating in him storming off in a huff back to the hotel.
"So that's what can happen to you on a sunny Sunday afternoon in Paris walking down the Champs Elysee with the one you love. That story happened 12 years ago - and we still can't talk about that fight without it starting another one! I am quite sure we will never feature in a Willy Ronis picture postcard of Paris."
Megan, hope Paris Postcards triggers happier memories of the City of Light!