what happens at night

dimanche 20 avril 2008

Julien and Hermine invited me over for lunch today.  They made a quiche Lorraine for me, with eggs, cream, and lardon - from scratch, even the pastry.  It was to die for.  C'était bon à en crever.

Our sublime feast was accompanied by a mundane discussion of our plans.  Evidently, I'm not the only one struggling about my future.  Both of them are tired of life in Paris and long for a more tranquil life with less artificial conveniences and greater natural stimuli.  A recent failure in Hermine's negotiation of a job transfer has led to some misery for both.

Since I'm an expert in quitting a comfortable job to seek a life less certain but more fulfilling (I'm an expert in quitting things as well), I was glad to offer some advice.  We decided that it is best to have several plans in case one doesn't work out.  On paper, plan A is the best, where she would renegotiate for the transfer to make the move they wanted.  Plan B is to quit their jobs, take a long trip to Spain, Japan, and the US, then return to a new city in France to look for new jobs.  The same trip is also the main component of plan C, but they would settle in a foreign city along their journey to establish a new life there, possibly opening a quiche boutique if I offer enough of a financial investment (interest-free, of course).

I can't say I know for sure which plan would eventually work out, but I do think it's always a good plan to step back from your problems, take a restful siesta, then return with fresh ideas.  The French say "la nuit porte conseil" (Night brings council), and the Chinese "take one step back and you see the wide open sea and sky ahead of you."

I imagine them running their quiche store by the sea, very much like the friendly couple in Miyazaki's "Kiki's delivery service;" how romantic would that be!  They would wake up every morning, prepare the secret ingredients for their quiches, complain that the cream isn't fresh enough that day (they are French after all, they have to complain about something), greet their customers, and finish work by mid-afternoon to entertain their guest (that would be me).  I don't think I'll show up on a flying broomstick (Kiki is a teenage witch in training), but maybe I'll bring along a DVD of my latest film.  Maybe I'll even autograph it.

Speaking of my film career, it's time for me to take a step back and have my own siesta.

all souffléd out

samedi 19 avril 2008

Who loves a soufflé?  The fluffy and warm chocolate flavor that dangles on your tongue, teasing you to hold on to its magic, then when you are certain you are in love with it, it disappears.

Last night, Didier, Alim, Patrick, and I dined at "Le Soufflé" in le 1ème arrondissement behind Le Louvre.  Soufflé, by the way, comes from the French verb souffler, meaning to blow.  Obviously, the specialty of the restaurant is the soufflé, so I tried the menu, which consists of an entrée, plat, and dessert, all soufflés.

Each dish was well prepared, the texture light and smooth, and the flavor delicate and fine.  For the entrée, soufflé aux epinards; le soufflé Henry IV à la volaille for the plat, and soufflé noix de coco for dessert.  Here, I confess I made a mistake.  I read very quickly thinking I was ordering a chocolate soufflé - i.e., cocoa - but instead I got a coconut soufflé, which I don't like at all.  Nevertheless, the point is that by the end of the meal, I had enough of soufflés.  There is too much of a good thing.

Ce matin, j'ai eu un rendez-vous avec un correspondant qui s'appelait Sylvain.  On a marché dans le cimetière Père Lachaise.  J'étais là pour la première fois.  Bien sûr beaucoup de gens connus y reposent, mais je connais seulement Chopin.

On a discuté de plusieurs choses, et je lui ai dit que je suis en train d'écrire un scénario et qu'il raconte mes expériences à Paris il y a deux ans, surtout les histoires des gens que j'ai rencontrés.  Si on parlait de ses problèmes, ça peut-être m'inspirerait.  Fais attention !

Enfin, on a discuté de l'âme soeur et de l'amour idéal.  Est-ce qu'il existent ? Si oui, est-ce qu'il y a une seule âme soeur pour chacun, ou bien est-ce qu'il y en a plusieurs ? En plus, comment sait-on que la personne que l'on rencontre est l'amour idéal ? Est-ce qu'un amour idéal dure pour toujours ? Je suis certain qu'il n y a pas de réponses et que je me prends la tête avec ces questions stupides (merci à Didier pour sa contribution); quand même c'est un suject qui a inspiré des tas de poésies, de films, et de l'art en général.

Pourtant, comme dit Didier en faisant une grimace de désapprobation, est-ce qu'il y a quelqu'un que je connais dans la vraie vie qui a déjà rencontré son amour idéal ? Je ne sais pas. Peut-être que non. Je vais trouver mon "true life" et pas mon "true love."

pack your bags

jeudi 17 avril 2008

We've had a couple of intense discussions in class lately, again about nationality and identification.

It was interesting to hear from the Italian woman Giovanna that Italians, because their country is relatively new, generally do not consider themselves to be proud of their country.  Instead, they identify much more with the city; they would refer to themselves as Romans or proudly declare that they come from Milan.

A second topic was whether we would consider moving to a different country.  This was a very easy question for me since I moved from Taiwan to the US at the age of 10, and consequently I don't feel particularly attached to any one nation.  Sure, my passport states USA, but for me the country is just a place I live; I would have no hesitation moving from San Francisco to Paris, just as easily as someone might move from Berkeley to San Jose, if there is a compelling reason to do so.  I am certain there are many who are loyal to their countries and can't wait to lecture me on the importance of national identity and to remind me of what my country has provided for me; I respect that truly.  But...

Maybe I can illustrate with an analogy.  If you are born in New York then move to Boston at the age of 10, San Francisco at 15, then Chicago at 20, for whom do you cheer - the Yankees, Red Sox, Giants, or Cubs?  Why must you love only the first one?  Why can't you love all of them?  Why must you love any of them?

did I get lost?

mardi 15 avril 2008

Determined to get lost, I decided to do a bit of random exploration today.

A friend of mine, Rick, is here in Paris.  He just arrived a week ago and will be staying for five months.  Unlike me, who will return to work after two months, he quit his job to make a complete change.  Now that is courage.

I asked him to pick a number between 1 and 15 and a letter; I got 6 and L.  Looking on the metro map, I was to explore one of the final stops of line 6 - either Charles-de-Gaulle Etoile or Nation.  Since there is no L in Nation, we headed out toward the touristique destination in the 16ème arrondissement, home of the Arc de Triomphe.

Since the goal was to get lost, we wandered around for two hours, checking out small hidden alleyways, pointing out tourists that stick out like a sore pouce, and not making fun of them too much.  I wonder if anyone was pointing at the two of us and our cameras.

Other than the largest boulevards and avenues, Paris is built so that it is impossible to see far down any street; the view is always obstructed by some architecture several streets down.  Even the boulevards and avenues end in circular "places," which typically features monuments like the Arc de Triomphe or some famous colonne (column).

In the process of getting lost, we found Parc de Monceau, a famous park in the 8ème arrondissement.  Although tiny compared to Central Park, it was still landscaped beautifully (see the picture of the garden), with lots of joggers taking advantage of the environment.  One thing I've noticed in Paris is that in general people don't jog on the streets.  Perhaps there may be one or two çà et là (here and there), but definitely not like in San Francisco.

At the end of the day, after a satisfying exploration of the area, I wondered if we really got lost or if we just wandered.  In order to get lost, do you need to be going somewhere?  And if you don't have a specific destination, are you just exploring?  So perhaps I didn't get los, but I did explore.  And during the process, I did a strip tease in front of the Arc de Triomphe.  Don't get too excited, I stripped off my coat.

c'est fou, non?

lundi 14 avril 2008

My journey is nearly 25% over, hard to believe but true.  So what have I done?  That's the question I've been asking myself the past few days, and it has led to anxiety and doubt more than anything else.

As you know, I have the tendency to want to arrive at a solution instantaneously, like the day before the problem presents itself.  What, then, do I want at this moment?  I want to speak French fluently, to have finished the second draft of my script (that's a lie, I want to be directing the film already), to have met lots of French people, to have taken tons of amazing photos, to have walked everywhere in Paris.  In reality, what among these have I done?

In the past couple of days, I have noticed that when I'm spending time studying French or working on my script (only did it once so far), I felt guilty about not taking walks and getting lost in the city; and when I'm meeting and talking to a local Frenchie, I remind myself that I haven't studied French in two days and that I have barely touched my camera.  Yes, I know how to drive myself (and other people) crazy.

How am I going to stay out (or get out) of the cuckoo's nest?  Not sure, but I need to prioritize things a bit.  The most important things I wanted to do were to learn French and to continue work on my script.  Have I done either?  Sure, I've learned lots of French, even very useful bad words which I hope to incorporate into my daily vocabulary when I return to San Francisco, and I've also started just a little bit on my second draft - I decided that one character would be a nanny and that her boyfriend would be a photographer's assistant.

I've also met some interesting French people - Elisabeth, Thomas, Luyang, Didier's friends Patrick, Julien, Marion, Sylvain, and Isabelle.  They're not my best friends yet, but I've met them.  And yes, the camera has been used.  I haven't taken thousands of pictures yet, but I'm 50 closer.

So actually, I have done a bit of everything I've wanted to, and I've got over 75% of my time here to write a bit more, study a bit more, walk a bit more, photograph a bit more, meet a bit more, and give myself a break a lot more.  Much, much more.

Hey, I've also kept up with this blog.  I've done more than I thought.  Somebody, reach your arm across the Atlantic and give me a pat on the back.

o spring, where art thou?

dimanche 13 avril 2008

Maybe it's because I hated playing Vivaldi's Spring when I was learning the violin two decades ago.  Honestly, it isn't my favorite season in The Four Seasons; Winter and Fall are so much more interesting.

Whatever the reason, spring isn't coming to Paris.  But the tourists are.  Over the weekend there were actually two semi-dry days with temperatures in the low 50's (ouais !) - I could take off my sweater and wear just my winter coat.  Well, no, I was wearing other things besides just the coat.

I took a stroll toward Notre Dame and brought along my camera to test it out, apparently so did thousands of other people that day.  I wasn't in a straight mood (am I ever?) and took most of the pictures at an angle.  Among them you will find evidence of the protest against China's rule on Tibet.  Notice the handcuffs in the disguise of Olympic rings.  There was a second reason I took the picture, can you guess?  I already told you why in this paragraph.

getting lost

vendredi 11 avril 2008

Trying to be as active as I can during these two months without tennis, I make an effort to walk to class everyday.  The keyword is effort.  My class is in the 9ème arrondissement, which is a 25-30 minute walk from home.

Navigating through the streets of Paris isn't exactly the easiest thing, even with my handy "Paris Pratique" which maps out every street in Paris, because lots of these streets are centuries old.  Sure, there are the huge, wide avenues and boulevards, but there are also the narrow rues (streets).  One could start out on a boulevard, walk into a street, turn around the corner into another street, and then get lost in a seemingly unending maze of streets that come one after another.

Or maybe it's just me.  I do have a habit of getting lost while driving; just ask Jeni, she has received too many calls from me at random times asking for directions.

Anyway, during the first two weeks of class, I think I got lost about five or six times, usually as a result of thinking that walking into a particular street would lead to a shortcut.  Eventually, I ended up where I needed to be, and in the process I traversed yet a couple more unknown streets in Paris.

So then, getting lost might be a good thing.  One of the first things Elisabeth said to me was that it's necessary to get lost in Paris.  As a doctor, I've always felt that getting lost is the worst feeling to have when you have a concerned patient or parent sitting in front of you; the entire purpose of medicine is to find the solution as quickly as possible, as directly as possible.  There is no room for error, just ask any lawyer.

If my brain has been wired that way, how am I going to reprogram it to accept change, to embrace getting lost?  Like they say, practice makes perfect; I'll have to force myself to get lost more often (not to be confused with someone telling me to get lost).  I think I am going to take the metro, get off at a random station, walk around while avoiding stepping on the brown trails of dogs which one can find every few steps in Paris, get lost (that is sure to happen), and not consult my Paris Pratique until 2 hours later.  Certainly I'll have my camera with me.  Now if only the weather will cooperate my plan.

Will this work and allow me to embrace changes, spontaneity, getting lost?  I don't know, but it's a step.  Knowing me, I'll get lost trying to get lost.  Even better, as long as I end up there.