THE TABLE!

I knew when I moved into the apartment that I wouldn't be able to afford to buy everything all at once, and so I tried my best to plan out an order of importance.  I bought the bed, fridge, and washing machine right away and decided to space out all the rest.  When the couch went on sale, it moved up on the priority list.  I figured I could make it through the summer without a stove/oven (and I did).  (How'd I eat, you ask?  Sandwiches, smoothies in the blender, salads, and on a few occasions, the crock pot.)  I'm about to leave to go to the US for 10 weeks, and so it seemed to make sense to not buy anything else big until after my return in January.

Except that I'd found the table of my dreams and I didn't want it to go away while I was gone.  What if the store sold out of them and never got a new shipment in?  What if they decided to change out their stock with the season and this one disappeared after Fall?  I'd looked and looked and looked at all sorts of tables and was convinced this one was The Table.  Might as well go ahead and make the plunge and get it before someone else noticed how pretty it was and snatched it up before me.

So Mrs. X and I went over to Nimes (another city in Southern France) to look at the table in person (I'd only seen it on the internet), and make sure I still liked it in the flesh.  I did.  I sat at it to make sure I could cross my legs underneath and no knees would knock and that the chairs I wanted fit and etc.  It was even more dreamy than the internet picture had led me to believe.  I gulped and signed away for it and the chairs to be delivered.  Because the store is in Nimes and I live in Marseille, the delivery fee cost as much as the table.  Egads.

Delivery day came, and as is common practice, I rounded up the gang to make sure I wouldn't be alone during another delivery debacle.  When the older delivery man saw the size of my miniscule elevator, he was quite jovial and joked, "Oh la la!  That's it!  I've had it with deliveries in France!  That's the smallest elevator I've ever seen in my life!  I'm done.  After this delivery, I quit!"  The Table just barely did NOT fit in the elevator, and so it had to be carried up the five flights of stairs.  The chairs did fit, and oh, I wish I had a picture of what awaited me when I opened the elevator door.  The younger delivery man had put in one box of chairs, sat on it, and hugged the other smaller boxes, so that when I opened the door, all I saw were boxes and some legs from the knee down...at waist level!  So funny.

The Body Builder and The Artist are helping me get the box opened.

 The table came unassembled, so we were all ready to get the pretty pretty put together.

 Me holding the ironwork that I love so much!

 Putting the iron base together.

 Unlike Ikea, there were no markings for where to screw in the iron base onto the table.  So we measured to make sure we got it all centered.  I know I'm quirky and asymmetrical and all, but even I couldn't handle if my table was off kilter!

 Once it was marked, The Body Builder screwed it all into the wood and we were good to go!

 Flipping it over.

 The reveal!

 Pantene captured me dancing for joy!  It's so pretty!!!

 I didn't want to cover the whole thing yet with a tablecloth--that wood is just too pretty!--so I just put the smaller tablecloth down to decorate a bit.

The wood is very rustic.  It has nicks and grooves, and is slightly uneven and well, just seems like a real slab of wood instead of something prefabricated.  I'm so thrilled that I waited to get it and got exactly what I wanted.  It was worth being without and eating on the floor at a trunk for five months so that I can have this now.

Can't you see how happy I am with my new table?!

 The Body Builder got a picture of me, The Artist, and Pantene drinking our coffee at the new spot.  I love that I can prop my feet up at it!

Bonus: it smells like a fireplace, and has made my whole apartment have that lovely smell ever since it arrived!

Something about having a dining room table and chairs feels very grown-up to me.  I keep thinking: that's my table!  When I move, it'll move with me!  (See how I haven't settled in my head yet?)  I don't have to sit on the floor at my coffee table/trunk to eat any more.  I can have people over and not be embarrassed about my lack of table and chairs.  I still have only half a kitchen, and a completely empty guest room, and I'm not sure that I even remember how to drive a car...but I feel very grown up now.  10 years with my company this month and a dining room table with chairs did the trick.

Decorating with Doors

Well, yall know I love me some doors.  Last year, when I moved into the long-term temporary house-sitting apartment, I began to really think through how I would want to decorate once I had my own place...because it would be coming soon.  Pinterest helped alot with ideas.  I saw that people did all kinds of things with doors, suitcases, and trunks.  Little ideas began to swirl in my head and I began looking at brocantes and used stuff stores for old doors, windows, suitcases and trunks.  Then, three months later, I found two doors on the street, which I quickly snatched up to claim as my own.  (You can read that story here.)  Four months after that, I found a door tucked behind a fridge in a back corner of a used-stuff store.  I bought it and set it out on the balcony during the spring.

When moving day(s) came, somehow, the door got left behind in the old apartment and didn't make the trek across town.  But some helpful friends from the states came, and said they had no shame over helping me carry that door across town on a bus and walk it down the street.

Yes, we were the crazy Americans on the bus being silly.  I mean, if you're already making a scene by carrying a door on a bus, why not go all out, and fully entertain the locals?  In the picture below, I think this was right before the guys started skipping with my door down the main street of Marseille.

The door got all set up in the kitchen and just hung out during the summer months.  I knew that one day I would eventually print out some door photos and put them behind the window panes.  Well, I finally had some other photos I needed to print out, and so that lit a fire under me to finally choose which 16 would go into the door.  Here's the final result:

Seven were easy to choose.  The top four are my very favorite doors in the world.  From left to right: the blue door in Honfleur (read about it here), the tree door in Stow-on-the-Wold (read about it here), the #1 favorite on Avenue Rapp in Paris, and the oh-so-famous blue door in Sidi Bou Said in Tunis.  (The other three easy to choose: the third from the left on the second row, which is a door in Venice, because I like the photo; the fourth from the left on the third row, which was an awesome door in Salzburg; and the fourth from the left on the bottom row, a Jewish door on a synagogue in Besançon).  The others were a bit harder...I didn't want to favor any one country, and I wanted a rainbow of colors. I see now that I missed having a red door...oh well.

 While I was in Paris, I went to a brocante with Mrs. Superhero.  Just as I finished saying, "I really don't think I'll buy anything today, because there's nothing I need and whatever I buy, I have to get back to Marseille on the train," I stumbled upon a set of four doors.  I know when I say "doors," people think full sized six foot tall things.  But I suppose I should clarify.  I stumbled a set of four hobbit sized doors.  Or hobbit window-shutters, perhaps.  Anyway, they were black with wrought-iron (a growing theme in my living room), solid wood, slightly medieval, slightly hobbitish, and just lovely.  And all four were only 10 euros total.  I bought them and our whole shopping group of ladies began laughing about how in the world would I get them back to Marseille on the train?  (Obviously I got them back no problem, since here are two of them on my hallway radiator...)

 Just a few minutes later, I stumbled upon another door, and two windows to match.  Oh my!  I was nearly speechless.  SO PRETTY!  Honestly, if I had seen these first, I probably wouldn't have bought the hobbit ones.  But now that I have all of them, I love all of them.  This one is so pretty, I just grin a little bit every single time I look at it.  I love the hinges.  Love them.

Here are the windows.  They will get hung eventually.  Some people have asked if I will put photos in them like I did with the door...I don't think I will.  The windows don't have any glass, so I don't know that a photo would look so good in there.  

The final two hobbit doors are currently sitting on the windowsill in the living room.  I've pondered getting a little creative with them, since I have so many.  Time will tell.

 But one thing is certain: the door theme of decorating has definitely taken off!  I couldn't be more pleased.  Once upon a time, I was a little worried about the various shades of wood in the living room, but now, there are so many, they all just sort of go together.  Now, if I could just find some of those used suitcases and trunks.  Brocante season is upon us, so it's very possible.  :)

The Smoking Truck

I don't remember when or where, but months ago I read an article about a burger truck that opened in Paris and was all the rage.  (Indeed, if you google "burger truck Paris" all sorts of articles will come up.)  I've always said that a brilliant idea of how to make money overseas is to find the one thing expatriates are missing and sell/do that.  Be a chiropractor.  Open a breakfast-all-day-diner.  Sell English books.  Whatever.  Where expats are, they are missing something, and money is to be found in filling that homesick hole.

An American woman (not me) who had studied culinary arts in Paris decided to open a food truck (except for pizzas--very rare) in Paris that sold burgers.

Parisians don't eat on the street.

Parisians don't eat with their hands.

And when Parisians eat burgers, they do so with a fork and knife.  I kid not.  I've watched this in horror.

So the idea of a Parisian waiting on the street for their burger that they will have to eat on the go seemed like a bad idea.  But Parisians love trendy, and I suppose the burger truck is trendy, because they love the burger truck.

I was hanging out with Busy (who, somehow over the last few years exploded into a full-fledged TEENAGER...where is the girl who dressed up like Belle when I took her to Disney years ago?), and we decided to give the burger truck a try.  Since it roams the city, you have to look up ahead of time where it'll be parked, and get there in time to get a burger.  Because once they're out of supplies for the day, they're done.

Y'all, I love me a good burger.  I was really crossing my fingers on this one.

We arrived a little later than planned, and were a little nervous when we saw the line.  The 50-person deep line.  All standing in the blazing sun.  (Better than the Parisian norm of annoying drizzle...)  We got in line and looked at the clock. 1:03pm.  How long would we wait?

A couple got in line behind us.  Then, a man came out and asked us how many burgers would we order?  Two.  Same question to the couple behind us.  Then, the dreaded words to the guy behind them: "We have enough burgers for everyone in front of you.  However, since you only want one, if everyone orders what they said they would, we should be able to accommodate your order.  If you want to wait...you won't know until they've all placed their orders."

He decided to wait.

We couldn't believe our luck.  Just another minute or two delay on the metro, and we would have missed our chance for today to get one of the trendy burgers.  We watched for the next hour as the man in the blue shirt had to tell numerous people that there were no more burgers today.

We waited and waited.  Busy got sunburnt.  We played with our phones.  We discussed America and France and Marseille and Paris and memories.  We watched as time and again, the man came back out and delivered the sad news that they were out of burgers for the day.  I was grateful that they had this system of counting, because I would have been sad to wait forever only to be told after the wait that they'd just run out.  At 2:04pm, they finally took our order.  Busy got a classic and me a bbq.  The man behind us who'd taken the risk to wait for an unpromised burger was able to place his order.  We all waited a little more.

An hour and a half and 10 euros later, I got to bite into my true-blue American gourmet food-truck burger.

Except that I accidently bit into Busy's and got a mouthful of pickle, which I was not expecting.

It was worth the wait.  SO worth the wait.

Paris Favorites

People often ask me what I like to do in Paris.  After having lived in the city for two years, and return often on short trips, it really does feel like a second home in France.  There are things I recommend to people who have never been, things I do every time I go, and news things to discover for those who've already been introduced to Mona Lisa and the big tall tower.  On this most recent trip to good ole Paree, I decided to do one of my favorites--a walk along the Seine--and take pictures of my favorites along the way.  So if you've ever wondered what I love about Paris, here's a photographic journey of an answer.

I like to begin my walk in the Marais, an old neighborhood in the 4th arrondissement, which is my very favorite area of the city.  If I ever moved back to Paris, and got to choose where to live, this is where my little quirky eclectic artsy heart would be most happy.  I head straight for the Jewish Quarter to get a falafel from L'As du Falafel.  There is always a line out the door.  If you are on the Rue des Rosiers, and you are tempted to skip the line at L'As so you can eat falafel right away at some other place, avoid the temptation and go get in line.  The line is there for a reason.  It is the best falafel in Paris. 

 I often get a hankering for it, and wonder if would be unreasonable to get on a train from Marseille to Paris just to go get in that line so I can eat that magical wonder in a pita.

 If it's a pretty day, I love to go sit in the Place des Vosges to eat and/or read.  It's such a lovely little square.  Victor Hugo lived here, and you can go see his apartment and imagine him writing Les Miserables while looking out the window at the fountains.  It's one of the few parks in Paris where people are allowed to sit on the grass.  I love it.

After I've had some lunch and am really ready to walk, I head over to Notre Dame.  It has another park area behind it, which is another place I could sit for hours to read or just people watch.  The bridge behind her is one of the many love lock bridges in Paris.

 Lining the Seine are bouquinistes--used book sellers.  Many of them now sell touristy souvenirs, but it's still fun to walk along and look at everything.  This particular day, I found a leather bound copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame in French that would match the copy of Les Mis that I already have.  It was in a box with other books that was marked 12 euros for all the volumes, and then the man told me it was 20 euros for the one book.  I scoffed and said I could find it at a brocante for 5 euros and he scoffed at me and told me to go shop at a brocante then.  I was slightly entertained by our exchange...and just walked on before his grumpy attitude rubbed off on me.

 A friend once told me that there is no other river in the world like the Seine...that something about it just enchants you.  Another friend said, "If it's possible to fall in love with a river, the Seine can make you fall in love with it."  Both statements are so true.  Something about her just draws me back to her banks time and again and all I want to do is walk alongside her.

 The water in Paris is drinkable straight from the tap.  During non-winter months, there are fountains all over the city that have water available for free...you just need to bring your bottle.  The fountains like this one were built with little hooks to hang cups from, and city citizens could fill up the cup, take a drink...and put the cup back for the next thirsty passerby.  I'm glad they figured out that the cups were not the best idea...

 One of my very favorite views in the whole city is from the Pont des Arts, looking back at the Pont Neuf, the Ile de la Cité, and the Seine.  It's just the prettiest spot.

 I probably will never get tired of taking the exact same photo of the Louvre.  Or people watching in this courtyard.

 I spent many an hour in this spot during language school just reading and detoxing from all the language learning.  The Jardin des Tuileries is probably one of my favorite places in the city to sit and read.  The garden provides the chairs, but you have to bring your own book.  Luckily, there is an English bookstore just around the corner should you need something to read.  This particular trip, I resisted the bibliophile urge while at the bookstore, but did buy a Dr. Pepper and a bag of mint m and m's.  :)

 Something else I love about Paris?  All the RANDOM.  Wherever you go, there is random.  This particular trip, the random was finding two billy goats in the Tuileries.  No explanation for why they were there, or any gates to hold them in.  Random.

 It's been almost six years since I moved to France, and do you know?  I never get tired of looking at the Iron Lady.  She's so pretty.  People ask if I get used to her, or tired of her, or if I just shrug my shoulders at her as if she's an everyday thing for me.  Nope.  I still marvel every.single.time.

 I do, however, get tired of all the pigeons.  I didn't mind pigeons before I lived in Paris.  But Paris pigeons are not quaint like the pigeons you may think of in America.  They are disease-infested (and carrying), they are mutilated rodents with wings, they are deformed and dirty and gross.  They are an epidemic in the city, so much so that the mayor of Paris paid 80 million euros for contraceptive seed to be fed to them so that they'd quit reproducing their nasty selves.  But let me tell you how I really feel about them...

 Back to the pretty pretty.  I love to pop into Laduree and spend a small fortune on a festive party for my taste buds called macarons.  This time, I bought glacier mint and oh my goodness.  Favorite flavor ever.

 Place de la Concorde is pretty and delightful, and I love to see if tourists will choose to walk up the Champs-Elysées, or will turn (like I do), to keep walking along the Seine.

 Pont Alexandre III is my favorite bridge in Paris.  It's elaborate and over the top and just breathtaking.  This would be my other favorite view in the city, of this statue/street lamp, looking over the Seine to the Eiffel Tower.

 I love to show people this door.  When they see it, I feel like they understand where my love of doors came from.  This is, hands down, my favorite door in the whole wide world.  What I wouldn't give to be allowed to go through that door and see the rest of the building (which is famous for it's art nouveau).

 Since I can't go in to see more Art Nouveau, I go around the corner to the Square Rapp to see more there.  There are several doors and this gate that are just exquisite.

 And well, if I'm that close to the pretty lady, I might as well go on over and tell her hello, right?

 Some other favorite things to do in Paris?  I love to go with someone to a place they haven't been before.  This particular time, Busy said she wanted to go to the Catacombs.  We made sure no zombies ate us alive while we walked through the Empire of the Dead.

People think I'm crazy, but I love the Paris metro.  Just the other day, someone even said I was looking at it with rose-colored glasses.  I don't think I am.  As much as the crowds of Paris wear me out, the noise gives me headaches, I miss the sunshine, and all the crazy/creepy people freak me out...and the Paris metro is the epitome of those things, I still love it.  I love people watching on it.  I love all the tunnels.  I love that I don't have to drive and can get anywhere by it.  I love the performers on it.  I love the motion of it.  The colorfulness of it.  I.really.do.love.it.

 And this one right here is my favorite entrance to it.  It's the only fully covered entrance that is completely in tact.  (There's another one that is still covered, but the side glasses are broken out.)  For those of you who are curious, it's at Porte Dauphine, the end of line 2.

 I love to have dinner with friends and talk for hours.  One particular set of friends have this view from their balcony.  If this wasn't lovely enough, once the sun set, there was a major fireworks show way off in a suburb, but from our viewpoint, it was directly behind the Eiffel Tower.  So awesome.

 I love to go to brocantes with Mrs. Superhero.  It's one of her favorite things to do, and she's a pro at finding the most awesome little treasures.  Another blog post to come about this particular brocante.

 I love to imagine the stories of people's lives.  Parisians are so very interesting.  I wonder what this man was reading?  How often does he come and set up his yellow umbrella?  I saw another man who was surely old enough to remember living in Paris during the Occupation.  What was that like?  What's it like to b a kid in Paris?  Do they marvel at their city like I do?

Oh Paree.  I do love you.  I'm so glad I got to live with you for two years, and that I don't have to live with you now...but I get to come visit you every six months or so.  This particular visit didn't feel long enough.  Go ahead and get the cold out of your system, and I'll see you when you're waking up from the dark winter night sometime next spring.