Wheels, Smoke, and Shifting Tides...

My first view of Notre Dame

I'm in Paris where everyone's wheels are spinning or their feet are marchin' at the moment: there's a huge public transportation strike. It hasn't really bothered me. I've walked at least 8 miles per day since I arrived here 'cause the buses/trains aren't cheap, plus I get a better understanding of the city.

I took the bus from Madrid to Paris. It was an overnight affair. The coaches are quite clean here, not like my third world ghetto experience when I rode the dog from Dallas to Austin in July. The movie that played was in Spanish, so I couldn't catch all the language, but I could follow the story closely enough to be moved. It was about life, love, and risk. Talk about a tear jerker for me as we inched along dark roads and I realized I was about to see another dream come true. I have always wanted to live in Paris. I studied French in school-almost majored in it in college. Thinking about how long its taken me to get here brought down the waterworks. Luckily, it was the middle of the night and most of the passengers were asleep.

We left Spain on Thursday night and arrived in Paris Friday afternoon. Luck was with me, so I had both seats for just me! YIPPEE!!!! Never having been to France before, and also choosing it last minute over returning to Barcelona I had made no arrangements. By now I think I can navigate just about anywhere. Well... I didn't even have a list of hostels! First thing, get to the center. Done. Next look for hostels. Not so easy, Paris is a huge weave of streets and trains and bustling humans. Imagine NYC, but you don't speak English very well. I was relying on all those French lessons to come beck in a hurry, but found I kept wanting to speak my crappy Spanish. So funny! Finally I head to a tourist office for a list of hostels around 5pm. This was after I dragged my stuff up & down Metro stations without escalators. Man o man! I can't begin to describe the pain in my arms once I finally relinquished those bags at about 10pm that Friday night.

Ok... don't freak out, but I found just one place with a bed for €28 at around 7:30. It was nice, but for an equivalent of nearly $40 a bit spendy for me. The clerk spoke a bit of English, phoned another place for me, and sent me on my way with best wishes. I'm sure by this point I was lookin' like a real whoozit! Back to the Metro, bags and all. However, now I had gathered a ton of info about the goings on in Paris and started to get a crazy notion: maybe I'd just head to a jam session I'd read about, skip the hostel, stay out all night, and start again tomorrow. In the end that's exactly what I did. The last place I checked out for lodging was nasty! I may be on a budget, but I'm still Princess! I dragged myself & my belongings to the club, parked the shit in a corner, and signed up to sing! So there's my crazy Paris beginning. Perhaps I'm growing bolder after all???

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The day I walked to Notre Dame, I really needed prayer and I said one. Cathedrals are, for the most part, a cheap tourist activity. The older ones are usually open and free, unless you want to light candles. I know very little about Catholicism, but being a church girl I know I find a sense of peace in the hallowed halls of worship places. I don't want to get into a long story. Just take my word when I say I needed to be there this day.

Later, I headed to one of my favorite drinking holes, the Mini Bar. Named such because of size: it's pretty small and smoky. Everyone smokes, so I intone Dianne Keaton's sentiment from Something's Gotta Give, "second hand smoke'll kill you anyway..." The owner, Lyliane, lets everyone know I'm a fantastic jazz singer-her label- from America. Then as the night rolls on, the calls for proof begin to circulate the room. Obligingly, I break into song a capella and so my reputation is being built: one tune at a time. I must admit loving the response of the listeners. Everyone wants to help me find places to sing. I will do a show at the Mini Bar in 2 weeks. Thank heavens!!!

Lyliane, the bubble woman...

The other thing about Paris... there seems to be no concern of time. Often the party doesn't even begin til after midnight. There might be a lull as people bundle up to go elsewhere, then BAM! New crowd, new energy, more songs, and even more champagne. Champagne flows, smoke billows, and my head finally hits the pillow around 8am. Geez!! When France becomes non-smoking in January Lyliane's place will not give over: she'll just activate private club status. At 61 she shows no signs of slowing down.

I have had to change direction. This week I'm headed for the Parisian suburbs for a wee break and to rehearse with a guitarist I met. Rodrigo and his wife, Pascal perform all types of Latin music. It'll be good for me to hang elsewhere for a bit. Paris has been hell on my feet and lungs. Also I have to brainstorm with like-minded individuals about how to get more work.

Little white lights dot the Eiffel Tower each night!

Whenever I take my evening walk, I am reminded of the glitz and glamour of Paris. Everything really sparkles at night. The Eiffel Tower looks like a diamond studded jewel in the dark sky and although I am revisiting bohemian life, I will wear my real baubles again!