Unscheduled appointments

Like a plumber who arrives unannounced

To finally tend to some clogged drains

Excavating debris from places unknown

Every hair out of place and now on display

Replacing valves narrowed by calcification

Hard leaking out and encrusting itself as scale

We would have swiped the traps had we known

Snaked the drains to show we tried

Instead the towels are all hanging out

Not expecting company

It is hard to tell with this visitant

Too embarrassed are we to lock eyes

He sees the mess we're in

With judgment we can only suppose.

Afterwards, we scamper around tidying

With brush and bleach in hand

A deeper clean than normal

Reinforcing our capacity for Good Housekeeping

The mirror now sparkles, “Ready.”

Forgetting the blocked water flow solved

Oh the hubris, the silliness to think

We can keep it all pristine

That a hair shall never fall out our heads

That hard water is ours alone to bear

Something is forgotten

We were not the ones who called for help?

Eating through Paris's Canal St Martin

I had my first passing encounter with the Canal St. Martin back in March of this year when I was in Paris for the day with my French-speaking expat friend Angela.   We started our day having coffee at the Hotel du Nord (102 quai de Jemmapes), the epicenter of this popular bohemian neighborhood.   Engrossed in conversation, I don’t remember much about the coffee but I do remember taking pictures of the beautiful tile floor and mentally recording that this was Angela’s favorite neighborhood in Paris.  I determined then to come back. 

This past Thursday was that day.  My impression of the 10th arrondisement up until Angela’s swoon was that it was home to two of Paris’s main train stations – the Gare du Nord and  the Gare de ‘Est – and therefore best to be avoided.  Tis true that there’s a lot of unsavoriness around those quarters, but a quick walk east from the Gare de ‘Est through the Jardin Villemin lands you right in the heart of the happening section of the 4.5 km long Canal.  I first headed north on the Canal towards Place de Stalingrad, but unless its exercise you’re after – that would be the wrong direction.  Everything worth seeing in the neighborhood is tightly compacted south between Rue Des Recollets and Rue Du Faubourg du Temple and straddles a few streets deep on both sides of the Canal meaning you have a nice manageable area to master.   (The goal posts are Boulevard de Magneta to the east Rue Saint Maur to the west.)  It was my lightest walking Paris day and truly the only day where I never got lost.

In the spirit of truthiness, the waterway itself for me was honestly a little underwhelming.  The still operational hydraulic life bridges were a fun throwback to a different time, but there’s something very sad and angst producing about non-moving water.   With traffic whizzing by on both sides of the Canal, even with the bordering of trees in fall colors, it’s loud and a bit scruffy by day.  Unlike along the Seine, I saw no lovers on a midday stroll.   On the plus side, it’s less crowded than many other parts of the city and though home to a hipster crowd (especially at night with bars and clubs) it’s not overrun by them.  It’s a neighborhood in that sweet spot of gentrification where everyone still seems welcome and beauty remains in the eye of the beholder.

However, what might be lost in visual appeal is more than made up for in food options.  Nowhere else in Paris have I seen more cool coffee shops, bakeries, ethnic eats, traditional bistros, and chic bistros clustered so close together.  It felt a bit like the fashionable Shoreditch area of East London, albeit a smaller footprint with less curbside appeal.  I researched where to eat and drink from several local Paris blogs and sampled a lot.   There really aren’t any sites or museums to see in the area – so you won’t feel any guilt about missing something when you’re hanging out in your third café.   There is also boutique shopping in the neighborhood notably around Rue Beaurepaire and Rue de Marseille that I casually checked out, but any peek at my closet would prove I gravitate towards chasing another coffee shop over shoes any day.

Here’s what I sampled :

Ten Belles (10, Rue de la Grange aux Belles).  It’s a minor let down when your first destination is even smaller than described and across the street from a laundry mat, but any place that announces where your coffee beans are from (mine were from Kenya) deserve a second look.  On that second look, I spotted some homemade scones on the pint size service counter and killer granola (high praise from this granola snob) on the table I almost took down while standing in line.  Not necessarily a place for journal writing, it is definitely, definitely a place to throw around your bean knowledge and nibble on whatever they are serving.  Chez Adele (10, Rue de la Grande aux Belles), a well-lived in spot for live music is next door as is the Pink Flamingo (67 Rue Bichat), a late night pizza joint where the most popular pizza is called “L’Obama.”  Quiet for most of the day, you could tell that come evening this corner would be hopping.

Holybelly (19, rue Lucien Sampaix).  Porland has come to Paris.  “Is it local?” you ask yourself. According to the menu, not just fresh and local, also nothing frozen or microwaved.   BAM to France’s industrial food reputation!  Serious coffee + serious breakfast.  And when I mean serious breakfast I don’t mean soft boiled eggs and toast.  I mean pancakes and eggs with sides.  I didn’t eat because I was still digesting my scones but was so profoundly moved seeing the hearty pancakes lathered in butter and real maple syrup and smelling authentic bacon that I accidentally oversugared my cappuccino.  Conveniently opened on weekends for hangovers.  Closed Tues and Wed.  Be prepared to hear an abundance of English.  Bob’s Juice Bar (15, rue Lucien Sampaix.)  Just a few doors down the street from Holybelly is this organic juice bar that also serves food.  Go for the juice (so I hear), not the ambiance. 

Du Pain et des Idées (34, rue Yves Toudic ).  You know you’re at the right bakery when there’s a queue at an off peak time and a couple of Japanese tourists in front of you.   I skipped the delicious looking and varied loaves of bread in favor of the spread of pastries including pinwheels filled with pistachio and thin crusted seasonal apple tarts (to take home I might add, lest you think you I went all oompa loompa.)   This place is clearly an institution and their uncommon selection of pastries explains why.   Worth crossing town for if you’re looking to expand beyond pain au chocolat.

Craft (24, rue des Vinaigriers).  On the other side of the Canal from Ten Belles is this coffee shop/co-working space.  Coffee was above average but the place is really all about plugging in your laptop and paying 3 euros per hour to so.  Great for road warriors who need to get work done, but less appealing for those who want to cozy up with a book or friend.  If you’ve come to Paris to eat healthy or run a marathon, Sol Semilla (23, rue des Vinaigries) – a vegan superfood restaurant across the street looked v. good.

Liberte (39, rue de Vinaigriers).  Different than most French bakeries, Liberte is a swanky year old bakery situated on a corner with small platoon of bakers working in an open mostly white industrial kitchen.  There’s something to love about bread baking on site.  It was hard to choose what to bring home between the breads, loads of pastries, and stuffed savory breads but settled on their grainiest loaf and a per kilo chunk of their house crusty bread.  You know you’ve lived in Europe for a while when you request a specific piece (not the end, please) that suits your fancy.   Also tried their chocolate loaf which looked amazing but only tasted so-so.  More savory options than Du Pain et des Idees.   If fast food is what you’re after, right next door is The Sunken Chip (39, rue des Vinaigriers), Paris’s first British run fish and chips shop.

La Chambre aux Oiseaux (48, Rue Bichat.)  Cozy like your grandmother’s living room complete with heavy wallpaper and mismatched mugs for an afternoon cup of loose tea.  Crisscrossing this spot several times during the day and landing in the late afternoon when I need a comfy chair to rest in, it was always full of women chatting and MacBook screens glowing.  They also have a nice looking simple breakfast menu along with their own house jams and open early.

Philou (12, rue Richerand).  Given all the cafe options it was hard to settle on a lunch spot, but Philou was one the places that consistently showed up on all the blogs.  A traditional French bistro using seasonal ingredients, Philou is a neighborhood favorite and now I know why.  I ordered the three course Menu du Midi for 19 euros which came with: a petite mushroom quiche and small perfectly dressed salad with herbs, the best beef burgundy I have ever known, and a crème caramel with a compote of apples and touch of mint.  Not only delicious but also perfectly sized.  Nice service too which in Paris is not a given.  Cross town for this one.  Last minute booking worked for me.

Le Petit Cambodge (20, rue Alibert).  Continuously open through lunch and dinner, this is a great spot for take away Cambodian noodles which I did for dinner on the train.  Packed at lunch everyone orders the bobun (similar to a Vietnamese Bun Bo Xao noodle salad with a few less herbs) for a well spent 10 euros.  I had read about the passion fruit/hazelnut tart at the gluten-free bakery next door, Helmut Newcake but then decided against it.  If you’re not gluten free already I reasoned, no sense starting in Paris. 

Two other places I didn’t try but you won’t miss given their prime real estate and blog chatter are Chez Prune (36, rue Beaurepaire) the café  that put this neighborhood on the map and L’Atmosphere.  Another popular spot I’d read a lot about and went to have a late afternoon glass of wine is Le Verre Vole (67, rue Lancry).  Unfortunately for me, I was sent away (though kindly I might add) as they are a restaurant/wine shop but not a bar.  Watching a woman peel potatoes at one of the tables, I wished I could stay and help.   Had I known Le Verre Vole wasn’t a bar, I may have stayed on the other side of the Canal near Le Petit Cambodge  to sample a cocktail at Le Zelda (6, rue Bichat) which opens at 6pm.

And there you have it.  A day of very good eats.

Happiness is

Happiness is. Scratch that. Too ambitious. A happy day is:

1. Little things that don’t make you want to grumble.
2. Out of reach things that move in a little closer.
3. The tingling warmth of filtered sun playing peekaboo with the clouds.
4. As in a dream sequence, the unannounced thought bubble of a friend which causes you to send a silent virtual squeeze.
5. Insisting your body GO and then testifying to it going further than it wants.
6. The disarming appreciation of what was supposed to be a semi-random act of kindness.
7. The likeness of someone you once knew in the face of a stranger.
8. When direction doesn’t come in stereo, but becomes audible as the faint sound of bass when your ear presses down into the pillow.
9. The delight of a freshly sharpened pencil and a well-worn Moleskine.
10. The conviction, even if more fleeting than you want, that everything has the potential to cut both ways.

Wine, Dine and Tweet

Never has there been a time when a great idea, a job well done, or talent been enough on its own.   Dues have to be paid, hours logged, and a stroke of luck – or good timing – has always been the basic recipe for success and advancement.  Great hair also never hurt.

Today, genuinely created value and measured tenacity aren’t enough.   It’s the noisemakers who win.   Shameless self-promotion has become our Common Core. 

Musicians are expected to get people to their casino gig and cultivate online fan groups.  Employees seeking advancement either have to jump ship to get noticed or overshoot every target, preferably into the lap of a senior executive.  Writers, especially in the advent of self-publishing, are required to spend more time pedaling then penning their masterpiece.  Marketers are constantly trolling for new customer bases while beseeching their existing customer base to upgrade NOW.  Soon our college applicants will be asked to submit a song and dance along with their essay.  In the age of wine, dine and tweet, everyone needs their own personal marketing plan.

It’s a lot of racket.  With so much choice and the lack of time and resource to sift through the real talent/best product/most worthy candidate, mediocrity prospers.  Attention is a limited commodity and the loudest voices hold court.  It's labor intensive to filter the message from the messenger.  Some other things are lost with all this YOU, INC. noise.

First, it demotivates.  Talented people understand positive motivation involves extrinsic reward or punishment.  They are inherently adaptable because they know how to read what will resonate with their audience.  However, nothing slows a person down quite like an arbitrary stick in the eye simply because your megaphone volume was turned down too low.

Secondly, there’s the ick factor.   It doesn’t take too many conversations turned talking points for a gifted non-salesy person to feel like a fraud or a walking selfie using his or her most flattering filter.  No one wants to be the guy who’s asking for the ball every time down the court.  Talented people need to be ready for the pitch, but it’s hard to feel authentic – and virtually impossible to listen well – when you’ve been conditioned to treat every interaction as a marketing tactic or a play-by-play of your recent achievements that sniff of a bad combination of Tony Robbins and Gandhi.

Third, it takes time away from the real work.  Valuable energy that could be poured into the work itself instead has to build Powerpoints and dinky dead-end websites and schedule meetings with busy people who will never see your actual work.   Instead of the reasonable challenge of working in a competitive landscape, you’re surrounded by armies of able and more than a few incompetent people launching blind missives in hopes of landing an audience with Oprah or the next ice bucket challenge.   The real work not only moves to the margins of your time, less of it gets done.

And finally, a few gems get overlooked.  In a saturated market, you need more impressions.  You can’t be heads down and expect that someone will notice even if you have a Matisse on your hands.  Everyone needs to arbitrate for themselves sometimes, but you’ll never see the self-possessed or humble make that their primary goal.  It’s like when a wave circles through a stadium, the true sports fan might join in the first time, maybe even the second time, but at some point, he’ll miss the wave and stay seated, eyes glued to the game.   The work always means more than the circus around the work.

Make Room

I see the words whiz by my head

Looking for a place to settle

Shut out by I can’t

Twisted into something less

Not fill in the blank enough is here

Choosing what abounds

Leaving rubbish as it goes

A cheerful heart not strong enough medicine

To clear these swollen rooms

Any attempt to partition foiled

Insatiable is this multiplying terrorist

I must bid self-loathing leave

Insist on it in fact

To make room for all that is good

To make room for even more

A Middle School Phone Contract

My middle schooler got a phone this week.  Actually my old phone with a new SIM card and his own number.  I really don’t know if it’s a good idea, but as any parent knows – the pressure is enormous (imagine the horror of being “the last one of his friends without a phone…”) and well, there is some merit (“I didn’t know you were waiting …) in equipping them with communication tools as they become more independent.  It’s also the age where being explicit helps, so I drafted a contract my middle schooler and I agreed to and signed.  I feel better.  I don’t know how he feels, but I do know he got the message.  And in this case, that’s good enough.

1. This phone is a responsibility that you have earned.  It is your responsibility to care for this phone, keep it charged and use it responsibly with things you send and look at.   You should never let someone else use your phone without your permission as anything that happens on this phone is your responsibility.
2. This phone is also a privilege.  Your parents have the right to take it away at any time as a consequence.
3. When you are away from home, it is your responsibility to keep the phone accessible so we may reach you.
4. This phone has unlimited text and data in Luxembourg. If you are traveling outside of Lux, it is your responsibility to turn off cellular data and only use data on wifi. You may do limited texting and calling when outside Luxembourg.  
5. You may only download apps after getting permission from your parents. 
6. This phone is the property of your parents until such time as you are able to pay your own monthly bill. 
7. Your parents may check your phone activity at any time.   Your passcode of xxxx should never change.  We expect that you treat people with the same kindness and respect on social media as you would in person.
8. If this phone is lost or stolen, it is your responsibility to purchase a replacement phone.

"After the Party"

You know you've been over listening to music when you start to think about new lyrics for a favorite song.  Mumford & Sons "After the Storm"  had me thinking ...

And after the party,

I clean and clean as the dishes come

And I scrub, I scrub-a-dub

On my feet and out of suds

I scrub-a-dub.

Celebrity chefs have pushed us gourmet

You must have aperitifs to be okay

But I won't cave, I won't cave

Yes this time, but not the next

I won't cave.

And I took all the glasses I had,

And we drank lots,

And remembered our own name,

Who we poured for.

And there will come a time, I’ve seen, when this kitchen will again be clean

And leftovers will not be condemned, but were foreseen

Get out the vacuum and see what you find under there,

With power to your crumb saber and a little hip fanfare.

And now I cling to this plastic wrap

I used to know how it worked

But oh no more

That’s why I wish,

That why I wish I’d gone with foil.

That’s why I wish.

And I could just wait.

For my children to wake up.

Oh this is good.

Because I pay the rent and they do not.

Well I’m scared of caked on food and seen their work.

Oh never mind.

Not this time.

But there will come a time, I’ve seen, when this kitchen will again be clean

And leftovers will not be condemned, but were foreseen

Get out the vacuum and see what you find under there,

With power to your crumb saber and a little hip fanfare.

Travel Quiz: Is this destination right for you?

Most of us love a beach.  Here’s a summer beach holiday worth looking into if …

1.       “Unspoilt” is not a scary word.  Zahara de los Atunes is on 20 km of white sandy beautiful coastline along the Atlantic (Costa de la Luz) in Southwest Spain without a through road and still free of high rise condos.   It is much less well known than the popular with Brits, highly developed area of the Costa del Sol on the Mediterranean. 

2.       You lean towards authentic and away from resort.   Zahara is a true beach destination not a glammed up resort town catering to sun seeking Europeans.   You’ll find way fewer sunbeds per capita, but have more chance of soaking up the culture. (And feel completely safe I might add as an American woman traveling alone with her children.)  Google it and you’ll see that most of the available information/reviews are in Spanish.  We literally heard a language other than Spanish only a handful of times.

3.       Laying on a beach qualifies as an activity.  Trip Advisor lists 5 activities you can do in Zahara and all of them are located on the beach.  Flying a kite is one of them.

4.       You underpacked.  Shorts, tee-shirts, flip flops, tanning lotion, and bikini top (optional).  If anywhere in Zahara had a dress code, no one was abiding it.  You can even drip dry while eating lunch in the sand at one of the beach shack chiringuitos, which you will definitely want to do because you should miss no meal while in Zahara.  

5.       You have hyper sensitive feet.  Beautiful clear sand combined with winds to keep it cool mean you can look cool getting from beach towel to the water’s edge.

6.       You have modest surfing aspirations.  The wind was good enough for body surfing (without significant undertow), but didn’t seem strong enough for surfing.  Most serious surfers go 30 km further south to Tarifa.

7.       You’ve seen photos of beach running in Runner’s World and made a plan.   Zahara’s one main beach is wide, flat and 9 km long – a dream beach for walking or running at low tide.  With a beach that long, you also won’t feel bad about carving out your own full size beach volleyball/soccer pitch.   

8.       You like tuna.   Zahara is the tuna capital of the world and it’s served on every menu, but the preparations are even more varied and delicious than you could imagine.  Red tuna is the specialty.

9.       You like to walk to tuna.  There are 70 or so restaurants in Zahara, all within walking distance.  You don’t have to be choosy as the eating is categorically amazing and affordable.  The driving and parking is less than amazing, so leave your car as soon as you arrive.

10.   You probably already live in Europe.   Zahara remains “unspoilt” in part because it’s not easy to access.  Only small planes, most coming from Madrid, fly into the airport of Jerez which is a little more than an hour’s drive to Zahara.   The next nearest airport is in Seville. 

11.   You’ve been to Barcelona and now have a thing for Spain.  Zahara will only make you like it that much more. 

South of France

Week in South of France (Dordogne/Lot) where there’s less doing and more being, where there’s a daily farmers market somewhere within 30 km, where the day’s biggest decision is which country road to run or bike, where the only TV viewing is to follow the Tour de France, where there’s enough unscheduled time to have your teen say over a hand of cards “You know what I’ve never told anyone…”, where your husband has quiet space to work 10 hour days and then jump in the pool after dinner and then jump in the car to drive 90 minutes to Toulouse airport to spend a couple of working days in London, where boys spend hours making “cool catch” videos, where you meander through cute French villages and stopover in Paris for lunch on the drive home, and where you come home to rain and it’s totally, 100% ok.   

We used Pure France to find our villa. 

The rest of the photos: