Midnight in Paris de Woody Allen

Okay, I’m about a month late on this review.

I was nervous to see this movie, fearful that Allen would elicit my fragile memories of Paris…

But Allen portrays the dazzling Parisian panorama through eyes of a foreigner: from an intimate distance, accessible French, and wrapped in an excentric fairy tale that travels through time. The art historian, the literary critic, and the film lover will love Allen’s unique tale of a Hollywood screen-writer (Owen Wilson) eager to find himself as a writer of prose.

The story speaks to the romantic who searches for love, life, and happiness in a world beyond and fails to see the magic in the present moment.

By the way, if your a nerdy art history lover like me, I suggest you pop open your old history books and look up Gertrude Stein, Henri Matisse, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and (sexiest best of all) Salvador Dalí — just to appreciate the full cinematic experience.

La vie nocturne à Paris.

Rules for getting wasted in Paris.

1. Pre-game with a bottle of wine - Drinks at a nightclub can be from 15-20 euros a pop, which can tally up to quite a bill. Pre-gaming will loosen everyone up for the long, cold metro ride to Franklin D. Roosevelt, Palais Royal Musée du Louvre, or wherever you choose to party. (Plus your heals won’t hurt so bad).
2. Check in your coat - Even if you have a table, don’t leave your coat laying around, especially if you’re keys and wallet are in your pocket.
3. Set aside cab money - While the ideal night includes going home when the metro opens, it’s best to set aside some cab money just incase someone gets too drunk, the club is awful, or your just too tired.
4. Don’t accept drinks from men – When a man buys you a drink, you’re stuck with him for the night. Remember to only accept the drink you poured yourself.
5. Stick with your girlfriends - The night ends up so much better (and safer) if you’ve brought your best friends.
6. End the night on stage with the band- that is you’re ultimate goal. Begin by slipping into the VIP lounge if you don’t already have a table. Dance on the couches, eventually the party on stage will let you on.

The best nights at dawn when the metro opens after dancing all night on stage. Let loose and have fun, it’s Paris.

10 jours jusqu’à Paris.

Returning to Paris is like being flung by the legs into another universe….

…you’re never quite sure how you’re going to land.

Nothing is ever certain — not your finances, your friends, or the place that you will stay. The weather is unpredictable, the exchange rate mght be down, the Parisians will probably be moody and irrational. When traveling to Paris, you must remember that love is like oxygen… without it you will suffocate. So be sure to bring enough with you or find some when you get there…

And then there are all the Don’ts you must remember…

Don’t wear shorts or bright colors even on a sunny day. Don’t walk around smiling like an idiot. Don’t eat croissants on the metro. Don’t hand the woman at the bakery your change. Don’t step in dog poop. Don’t refuse the revered smelly cheese. Don’t pour wine for a gentleman. Don’t expect French people to show up on time. Don’t go out before midnight. Don’t dance like a stripper at the night club. Don’t go home with the cute boy on the moped.

(All these, of course, I have done….

…and will probably do again)

 

 

La terreur à le Tour Eiffel

It seems there was a bomb scare at the Eiffel Tower!

BBC News reports that 2000 people were evacuated from the historic landmark and the surrounding areas including the Champ de Mars. Sources report that an anonymous caller warned the company that manages the Eiffel tower.

Luckily no one was hurt.

“Nothing was found,” a French police officer told AFP news agency…Within hours, the Saint-Michel train station – which was the target of a deadly attack in 1995 – was also briefly evacuated following a similar threat.

Who would do such a terrible thing?!

So many exciting (and horrifying) things happening in Paris this week!

Deuxième entrevue.

I adore this girl.

She’s part French, English, and Algerian and has extensive experience living and loving in Paris. If only someone would have shown me this before I moved to Paris at the tender age of 18, I could have avoided a lot of heart ache.

I want this to the be opening segment of my documentry because she sets the mood on a very witty, honest note. Let me know what you think!

La vie de bohémien.

It’s official.

When I return to Paris, I’m going to live a purely a bohemian lifestyle, take up the guitar, and play Bossa Nova on the sidewalks of the Saint Michelle in the spring for money. I shall live in a tiny inexpensive apartment in the 11th and cook vegan food for myself at home. On the weekends I will read French existentialist literature from used bookshops and buy only vintage clothes. I shall also have a black cat I call Anais.

And life can be glamourous too.

 

Bohemian |bōˈhēmēən|noun

1. a person who has informal and unconventional social habits, esp. an artist or writer : the young bohemians with their art galleries and sushi bars. [ORIGIN: mid 19th cent.: from French bohémien ‘gypsy’

Sensualité à Los Angeles.

As far as I know, there are two types of parties in LA.

The first sort is where I went Thursday night: the 18 and up hip hop venue where you pay a fee let boys grind on your booty. If they like what they see, they’ll get your number….

Not everything in LA is like that.

The following night my best friend and I went to a small party where bands showcased their new music. It was nice. Unlike the previous party, people were allowed to meet each other, talk, and dance with a respectable space between them. I liked this party.

But I could not help but feel that I’ve lost something.

Paris taught me the art of being a woman. I learned that sensuality can be found in all forms of life: food, wine, the sun, dancing, walking, sounds, smells… Life is love making at its essence.

But I don’t think people understand that here. People are outrageous, they enjoy hearing themselves talk, they broadcast themselves to impress you, they buy lots of things that are loud and flashy, they wear weird clothes, give themselves stupid titles in order to fit in and detach. They look outside of themselves to fill the inherent emptiness they feel within. Marijuana is the only way to slow down. I take my time apart and remain in my own perfect, quiet world. I don’t want to forget Paris. It must remain untainted in my heart.

Perhaps it will be an adventure to teach the American man what the Frenchman has taught me. If only he can be quiet for a moment, take a deep breath to calm himself, and read what I am saying in my smile. The lesson cannot be explained, only felt. And not everyone is ready for it.

The other day I had the pleasure of running into my high school crush.

It had been a year since I’d seen him and the moment we locked eyes my heart immediately stopped like it used to.

You know your high school crush. He’s the mec who gives you butterflies whenever he comes around and regardless of your age makes you stutter like you’re 14 years old. And now mine was here…

I thought I’d grown up. I thought I knew how to handle myself with men I liked. But instinctively I reverted to my school girl ways……I got up and left the room as fast as I could….

“Why did you run away like that when I saw you?” he asked when I saw him later.

I played it cool.

“I had a final…” It’s true! I’d had an exam that I had been 20 minutes early for….

“You didn’t even have a minute to say hello?”

“Well, I’m here now.” I said and smiled.

He looked at me like he used to and my heart fell into my stomach. It had nothing to do with him anymore, he was the same old cute boy…it was the sentiment that I just could not handle.

“Well I probably should be going.”

Very quickly I kissed everyone goodbye and left. I’m sure he was annoyed. I was annoyed!

It’s a shame really. Only a few boys in life can ever make a girl feel that way. And I just couldn’t handle it.

But there are just some people you cannot trust yourself to trust.

Choc culturel.

We all come from our own worlds.

Whether we are an heiress living in London or a rapper selling your CDs on Crenshaw, we construct our lives based on how we see ourselves and the people around us. And as such, we gravitate toward those who validate our reality. Of course, most people don’t consciously realize this…

for there is no need when surrounded by people who are like you.

Over these past two years, I’ve been perplexed by the number of unstable relationships that just do not fit me. The French women I meet are either elusive and unapproachable or just a flat out bitchy. The French men usually never pursue anything beyond innocent flirtation or a one night stand. Perhaps I am just too tall and intimidating. I tell myself innocently. Or perhaps they just like drama.

And then you get the Lame-os: the dudes who so hopelessly just don’t make the cut. They usually are uneducated and/or have absolutely no money and/or no respectable aspirations and/or are too short. I don’t want a boyfriend who sells cars and never went to college, they make me want to yell. And yet those are the ones I get to choose from here.

Sure, I gave it a shot once or twice: the short guy, the penniless guy, the “uneducated car sales man” guy. I’m not a shallow girl who judges people simply on height and wealth, if he can make a girl laugh then he’s worth a shot. But each one left me unconvinced that we truly understood each other. We disagreed on very basic principals. Ultimately we came from different worlds.

But then I realized something.

I felt it with cute Frenchman too, as well as the sexy Spaniard, the hot Italian, etc etc etc. In fact, it applies to my entire life in Paris in general. This is not my world.

I’m done with this.

I’m going back to my roots and my people.

I’m headed for Atlanta.

Un bordel de nouilles!

The Parisian is no stranger to the notoriously perpetual grève.

Nearly every week I hear a strike from my apartment in Bastille. At first it was an interesting and curious event — now I just turn up my music.

However, this caught my attention…

Today, dozens of self proclaimed prostitutes dressed in skimpy costumes stormed streets on the left bank to protest a recent proposition to legalize brothels. They claimed that if le bordel is opened, they will lose their freedom to work independently. The Green Party representative who organized the event commented…

“The question is about the recognition of the rights of these men and women who have made these choices that we must respect.”

Prostitutes striking against brothels? God I love Paris.