A Few Things I've Learned from Living in France, In No Particular Order

 

1. To wear skirts again.
   
   
2. Fifteen ways to wear a scarf.
    
3. To embrace cold weather.
    
4. To pay attention to seasons for various foods.
   
   
   
   
   
5. To commiserate with French women on the terrible spatial organization of most large markets in Paris, and the remodel hasn’t changed a thing.
    
6. To weigh vegetables and put little stickers on them before going to the cash register.
   
   
   
7. To walk and walk and walk.
    
8. And to sit in cafes, enjoying the theater all around you.
   
   
   
   
   
9. To live (quite easily) without a car.
    
10. That when your melancholic man says there is only one thing that prevents his happiness and it is having to drive everywhere, and that if he lived in Paris and could ditch the car, all would be well, you should believe him.
    
    
    
     
11. That when you tell him you cannot live without your entire library, and that giving away 2/3rds of it will simply mean that you’ll have to replace it all after you move, he should believe you.
    
    
    
    
     
12. To say goodbye to Marley, and accept that no other cat will do.
     
13. That your greatest fear about living in another country, losing touch with family and friends, is easily solved by airplanes, phone calls, e-mail and Facebook.
     
14. That having international friends is a good idea.
    
    
    
    
     
15. That the street art scene is the most alive visual art in France now, and perhaps in most of the western world.
     
16. That it is possible to understand a French washing machine by living with it for three years, consulting a plumber twice, and having a Darty technician come to your home and explain that two soap tablets in the tray are appropriate for a regular wash, but only one can be used for a delicate cycle, and must be placed, not in the tray, but in the machine, and then the water will not leak all over the floor.
     
17. There is no cure for the French dryer sounding like a jet airplane taking off.
    
    
    
     
18. There is no cure for the French love of bureaucracy.
     
19. It takes a year to stop sampling all 365 French cheeses before you can respect your arteries and get a grip.
     
20. You can laugh at your doctor when she laughs at you for suggesting that sugar might be bad for your health. After all, she is French.
    
    
21. You can finally listen to your L.A. healer, Dr. Mao, and substitute green tea for coffee and still write.
     
22. You can write through grief, you can keep working in spite of losing the woman with whom you are closest on earth, your sister, Jane.
    
    
    
     
23. Socialism is fantastic for mothers and families and anyone who is vulnerable (let’s just say, most of us), but it’s not good for entrepreneurs.
     
24. But the French are right, you need to take weekends off and you need to, regularly, get out of town.
     
25. There are cultures where literature is so important that you can hear it discussed by writers and critics every night on TV if you want.
    
    
    
    
     
26. Ancient is beautiful, and living in a modern city in harmony with the beauty of the distant past increases the power of a place.
     
27. Paris is our city, but the U.S. is our country. We can see our own country more clearly from afar, its craziness (guns, greed, hubris and politics), but also its beauty (energy, resourcefulness, freedom of expression, warmth).

 

Comments

[Kaaren Kitchell & Richard Beban]

Dear Daniel,

Calliopes, Salvador Dali, seraphim, Rilke and Nijinsky--richness in every direction! Thank you for this poem. You could sit in a prison cell and find plenty on which to dream. (I didn't know that seraphim have three sets of wings, but that's good to know, essential to life in Paris.)

You're right, we bring our inner life to whatever we see. And, there is plenty of beauty and mystery here to reward the eye that pays attention.

Love to you and Malika,
Kaaren and Richard

[Kaaren Kitchell & Richard Beban]

Dear Patricia,

That is one of our favorite things about living in Paris. We're glad we know YOU.

Hugs,
Kaaren and Richard

[Kaaren Kitchell & Richard Beban]

Dear Catherine and Tom,

Thank you! Merry Holidays right back to you. We had such a great time with you here last time. Yes, try Paris in winter. It's mysterious and cozy.

Love,
Kaaren and Richard

[dawna]

Dear Kaaren and Richard,

These are all marvelous... and so true. And wonderful photos, as always... that dancer in bold yellow ruffles is captivating! And I love that atmospheric photo of the solitary musician on the Seine, too.... (Is she playing a mandolin?)

Like Anna, #19 & 20 made me laugh, and 12 made me miss sweet Marley all over again. No, there is no other chat who can compare.

I'm curious: Where is that beautiful "America" mosaic located?

Hope you're both keeping warm and enjoying Paris as it transforms for the holidays!

Love,
dawna

[Kaaren Kitchell & Richard Beban]

Hi Dawna,

I just saw your message! Thank you so much. Yes, you are familiar with most of these, and I could easily see you living in France. I, too, love these photos that Richard took.

Always, the funniest part of living in a "foreign" land is when you come up against cultural assumptions that are so deep they can't be budged. Sugar bad for you? Ha ha ha, tell that to Le Roi Soleil!

I'll let Richard answer your question about the mosaic. When I first read the letters, "Ame" and "Rica," I heard it as the French word for soul, plus the Spanish word for rich. Then on putting the two together, realized Rich Soul is a description of America.

It's getting really cold here this week, hope it snows. Enjoy the sun in L.A., you lucky duck.

Much love to you,
Kaaren and Richard

(Richard here. America is one of a number of mosaics representing various continents that's in front of a store in the sixth arrondissement, on rue du Four, if memory serves.)