Sunday, May 5, 2024

The Last Time I Saw Paris

Notre Dame viewed over the bouquinistes and through the chestnut trees, the day before the cathedral went up in flames in 2019.


from the TV screen in my hotel room, as I packed to return home.

My late husband Walter told me that when good Brazilians die, they go to Paris. I think it was F. Scott Fitzgerald who said the same thing about Americans. That works for me. What with the pandemic and some medical issues and reduced disposable income, I haven't been back since the fire. I admit that it was really not the same experience without Walter, but it was still pretty fabulous, and memorable. At that time I was still pretty ditzy with grief, and not picking up my feet sufficiently, so I was falling a lot. Every time I did so in Paris, lovely Frenchmen materialized out of the air, helped me to my feet, inquiring solicitously if I was all right, needed help, needed to be escorted to a cafe? These days, I would have taken them up on those offers, but at that time it didn't even occur to me to accept.

And since my return, I will go on and on about the goodnesses and the differences of France and the U.S. I did a good bit of anecdotal and sociological reading while we were making our earlier visits, and I formulated some Rules for Americans to Live By and even offered a three-hour intro for people who wanted more information. They felt it helped.

So, now I am working with Tresha Fay Haefner to put together a writing workshop to be held in Paris in October 2024. She will lead the workshops, and I will be the point person to explain and facilitate a good experience. Not a concierge--I do not want to babysit--but I can certainly answer questions about how to navigate the unspoken rules and expectations. I hope we can pull it off!

 If you might be interested, message me. We're still working out the price point, but I'll post that when we have one.

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