I met mom and dad in Paris with less than 12 hours between planes, and we managed to squeeze in breakfast at our favorite patisserie. What is nice about Paris is that things don’t tend to change quite as fast as in other places. In a city whose identity is its recognizability, where you walk… Continue reading patisserie
On my way to Congo, I had a lovely layover in Paris. Twenty-four hours is all I needed to reconnect to my old home, even though I was so exhausted and jet-lagged I could easily have slept most of that time.
I’ve lived in 6 cities long enough to know them like the back of my hand: Kinshasa (then Zaire), Brazzaville (Rep. of Congo), Newark (Delaware-USA), Haifa (Israel), Paris (France) and Pasadena (California-USA). Walking through Paris today was interesting because I instantly relived my time here in overheard bits of conversation, the whiiiiisssssshhhhhh of the departing… Continue reading I used to live here
You know you’re in Paris (and therefore no longer in Congo) when you get yelled at by cleaning ladies for asking why the only bathroom in the baggage claim area is closed. You know you’re in Paris when a screaming match ensues with a cab who refuses to take you because he thinks you chose… Continue reading screaming taxis
It’s interesting being back after the last few years I’ve had. The last time I was home was in 2005, four years ago, after I left Israel where I’d lived for two and a half years at the Baha’i World Center. I was on my way to Paris. I would be in Paris for a… Continue reading Familiar doesn’t make you belong
I broke down and bought a day pass for wifi. I couldn’t sleep anymore, I caught up on my sleep deprivation and have been wide awake for an hour. Landing in Paris last night was not something I was looking forward to. I had to get my luggage, get on the Air France Bus, get… Continue reading Paris at 5:49 AM
I‘ve been sitting here thinking about Paris. Flipping through the last month of my journal, trying to feel like I was there again. And feeling nothing. Do you know that sense of disconnect from memories? I have the hardest time recalling the past. So I read through the memories, walking across le pont des arts… Continue reading the blur, the present, the future.