(part 1 of 3)
In my apartment I have several balconies, one located in my huge living room, with
sliding glass doors. My old living room was a third of this size. During
the day we are flooded with sunshine. I have enough room here for
several babies to crawl around, though I only have one for the
moment. In fact, my old apartment could fit inside this one, and I'd still
have plenty of space left.
Right now as I sit at my computer dans ma salle de séjour, I can see La Tour Eiffel. Saying that it is a beautiful site would not even
begin to do it justice. It's 11.00 at night and they've turned on the lights over there and it's all aglow. Thousands of tiny white lights illuminating my night.
Makes me miss Paris even more.
My family and I have just recently moved out of Paris proper and into Levallois Perret. 92300 is my new zip code. It used to be 75008. 92300 is less than
five minutes away from 75008 by car, and only two metro stations away. I can
walk there. In the space of ten minutes I can be seated inside or outside Café Monceau, which is located just across the street from 75008,
ordering up my favourite: Salade Royale,si'l vous plait.
92300. It looks like Paris here. It smells like Paris here. I can see Hotel
Concorde La Fayette and as I've said, the glowing Eiffel Tower from
the windows in my living room. But I am no longer IN Paris proper... and
it's biting at me like an Alabama mosquito at dusk.
I'm not the only one suffering from Parisian proper withdrawal. My husband was
living there (see, I have to say there and not here, one of
the problems) way before I came into town.
But, you know, life changes and you have the baby you've always wanted (and still
want!) You look desperately for a bigger apartment in your fabulous
neighbourhood where you've blissfully lived for five years. It's located
just down the street from Parc Monceau and across the street from a
great rue
piétonne. (Read about it at bonjourparis.com). But you don't find anything. So you decide: It's all
or nothing and you leave.
Then you end up just a little bit outside of Paris, in a neighbourhood that's oh so
chic. (I think every single woman in my apartment building carries a
Hermès bag, but I'm a Louis Vuitton girl, myself).
92300 is oh so clean that you could maybe eat off the sidewalk (maybe). It's
a calm, mostly residential area. The only crime you have to worry about is a
little old lady hitting you with her cane if you hog too much of the
sidewalk. The flowers at La Mairie are bright and beautiful
(tulips even) and all the waterfalls make my baby laugh when we sit outside
on the oh so clean benches to look at them. So you're thinking: Only two
metro stations away, minutes in the car, it will be fine.
And then it's not.
go to part 2...
