Since I dropped and picked back up this lovely literary space I’ve gotten pretty engaged.  The wedding planning is going pretty well and I’ve given my dude his marching orders (all 3/4 of them).  In all honesty he’s been pretty great about being involved in the planning and has voiced his opinions…most of which I actually agree with! (Though who knew that he’d actually want to wear a tux as opposed to a suit?)

While we’ve still got lots of planning left to do, thankfully mostly the small stuff, the one thing I’m having a little debate about is the location of the honeymoon.  We have talked about it, talked with our recently nuptualized friends, and are pretty certain that we’re going to say “Aloha” to Hawaii.  Neither of us have been and we’ve only heard amazing things about it from those who have touched the shores.  Hawaii is the perfect mix of things to do and doing no things.  I’m pretty set on this decision.

However…

…Paris m’appelle <<Paris is calling me>>.  I’ve written about Paris in this blog before (oh, you’re new? chchcheck it out! :)).  I’ve expressed my deep desire for it.  Je t’adore!  I’ve been there four times, one of those times with el dude-a-rino.  Now…I want to go to Hawaii because I know that it’s a place everyone should visit.

However…

my heart 512% belongs to Paris.  I could live in the lights of the street lamps if no rooms were available.  I’ve had people say that I shouldn’t just because I’ve been there so many times.  They say that I should experience something new.  In any other situation I would completely agree with them, say right on, and buy a closet full of tropical shirts and maxi dresses.

However…

Paris is Paris.  Paris is the most amazing city in the world and a bad honeymoon in Paris shall no one ever attain. 

What do you all think?  Obviously the dude-meister and I will make the final call, but I’m curious to hear your thoughts.  Would you go back to your favorite place in the world, or would you say “I’ll catch ya next time” and try a new spot?  We are talking about Paris and Hawaii, so really there is no wrong decision. 🙂

It is appropriate that I am a little tipsy on red wine while typing this…

…I miss Paris.  I miss it so much that my heart is bubbling with the tenderness of a rolled “R”.  When I go to Paris I feel full.  Sure, I may have just eaten half of my weight in cheese and filled the other half with muscles from Leon’s.  But that is not the kind of full that I mean.

There is a different oxegyn in Paris.  Anywhere else you will breath because your body tells you to.  In Paris breath exists so that we may enjoy life.  My breath in Paris pulls me forward…up the Champs Elyses and into a seat at Les Deux Magots.   Each corner bookstore is a new inhalation and there is sweet air.  Perhaps the air is sweet because of each patisserie on each street.  On my last trip to Paris each time I walked onto the Rue Cler in search of the freshest baguette this side of the Seine I was invegorated.  I don’t need the museums or the places you must go.  I just need Paris.  The streets are where you want to be and where you want to live because it’s where you can find the most Parisian air.  The streets walk themselves up and down and the curves of the Marais are as beautiful as a woman.  Imagine being a woman walking on those heavenly feminine curves.  Delicious!

Each time you step outside in Paris falling in love doesn’t even come close to how you feel.  Love is fleeting and flightly.  Paris stands as it is and will love you unconditionally as it becomes what you want it to be.

 

If you know me, you know that Paris is my thing.  It’s my soul sister, my destination du jour every jour, and I think that it is the most beautiful city in the world.  A couple weeks ago, before this blog thing started, I saw Woody Allen’s new movie, “Midnight in Paris.”  It’s amazing.  I know a review is supposed to be more deep and complex and wordy than that, but why use 50 words than 2 (with a contraction) will do?  Ok…here are a few more words to entice you to see this amazing movie.

The first thing that hits you is the opening scene.  Before a syllable of dialogue is uttered, Woody Allen gives you a strikingly beautiful shot by shot of Paris.  Paris in the day. At night. In the sun. In the middle of a heavy rainstorm.  And the thing is, no matter the light, Paris is always beautiful.  In an earlier post I promised to be honest with you, my worldly readers.  So let me let you know that I have been to Paris three times and have a fourth trip planned for later this week.  I’m going with my boyfriend who has never been, so I can’t wait to see…everything!  And eat the best falafels this side of Israel in the Marais (Jewish area)…

me and my dad and our delicious falafels in paris

That being said, I can also assure you that even if you have never been to Paris, this opening scene will do something to you.  It will unlock an appreciation of beauty that you may not have realized could be so grand and perplexing.  You will wonder what is beyond that narrow curve in the road, and what does Notre Dame look like at night when the pickpockets and tourists have gone home and only stary eyed couples bask in its beauty.

After this opening scene, the movie itself is wonderful.  Note to future viewer of said film: Just accept it.  Accept the time travel and the unanswered questions re: time travel.  Once you do, you will have a a great hour and a half living in the surreal and enjoying Owen Wilson and his version of the nebbish Allen character.  If the movie hadn’t already had me by the end, the fact that the last scene takes place next to the water, near the beloved Paris book stalls would have won me over.  Go see Midnight in Paris and then GO to Paris.

But not when I’m there…I hate tourists. 😉