Monday, August 7, 2006

I finally got my hair cut. I woke up relatively early today and continued my search for the perfect pan au chocolat. This one was better than the one yesterday so I was pleased with my decision. I walked down the street and found a salon that was empty but affordable. I bravely trusted my new stylists to make me pretty despite the fact that their English was only slightly better than my French. Not encouraging. I decided to buck up and go with the attitude that it’s just hair, and it will grow back. I assumed the worst just for the sake of it and figured they would surely destroy my hair but at least it would make a good story. Every time they started talking to each other I was certain they were making fun of me. The fellow doing the cutting was very interested in coloring my hair. I guess you are supposed to give people props for their persistence, but in this case, I was getting tired of smiling and saying “No color!! No color!!” Despite my insistence that I had neither the desire nor the finances to support such a glamorous transformation, they kept trying to woo me with color samples. It finally became a joke and every time he had me stand up, he would look at me, wink and say, “Now for your color!” Then he would laugh. I would laugh too but my laugh was more of a nervous, oh crap, kind of laugh, as I really wasn’t convinced that they were listening to me and got that I was serious about the no color thing. I managed to relax a bit when I heard the music change to Jim Brickman’s “Right Here Waiting for You.” Until of course I noticed it had been rerecorded in French. Who knew they could do that!

I caused a bit of a dispute as the second stylist took over and started blow-drying my hair. From what I gathered, he was not happy with the cut and the two guys got into an argument about it until finally the fellow who did the cutting gave in and came over and stared cutting some more. He cut until blow dryer guy was satisfied. I on the other hand will admit that I was paranoid, because as far as I could tell he just kept making the hair on one side of my head shorter and shorter and strangely chunky. I was certain at that point that it was going to look awful, but in the end, much to my surprise, they really did a fine job! After 8 months of not being cut, my hair is much healthier, shorter and more manageable. My new friends sent me on my way feeling very French and very sassy.

I decided to do some shopping on my way north to the Pompidou Centre. I made a little stop at H&M and Zara, tried on some fun things but again, found nothing that I felt I HAD to have. I’m searching for one great thing to buy so that when I look back 50 years from now, I can say, “oh that I got that in Paris back in 2006!“ Whatever that treasure will be is of course not going to be found at Zara or H&M but the shopping experience is still fun.

As I made my way to the Pompidou Centre, it started to rain. So I figured it was meant to be that I was going to hang out in a museum. I went to the café, ordered a quiche with goat cheese and spinach and sat for a few hours overlooking the center watching people and the rain. I wrote some postcards and eaves dropped on my neighbors conversations. It’s fun to listen to other people talking and to try to figure out where they’re from. I know it sounds like it should be easy, but sometimes it’s really not! You have to pay attention when you’re invading people’s privacy!

I say I hate tourists until I look in the mirror every morning and realize I’m staring at one. I like to think of myself as the good kind though and justify it by pointing out (to myself) that I at least try to speak a little French and I’m not running around with 3 of my college friends talking as loudly as possible about the guy I dated last week. But really, there are some American tourists who just have no clue how they come off to other people. Sure there is something to be said about not caring what other people think, but some people take that notion too far and make a bad rap for the rest of us.

At the Pompidou Centre there is a fantastic bookstore where after several minutes of perusing I discovered my new favorite photographer. I have seen his work for years but never knew the man behind the camera. His name is Jeanloup Sieff and his book was magnificent. Filled with thousands of some unbelievably striking black and white photos, much of his work has focused on fashion photography for style magazines. His repertoire and range, however, is extraordinary. I would love to be in his shoes for a day…or, I don’t know, sit in a café with him and pick his brain. I was afraid I was going to get in trouble for standing there looking at his book for so long and not offering to spend 90 Euros to buy it. I pulled myself away as I noticed the rain had stopped and considering this was the first day I left the apartment without an umbrella, it seemed like a good time to make my escape.

When I got home in the early evening I made some phone calls to friends and family of my friends and family, who live here in Paris. One, a cousin of my friend Jonathan in LA, got all excited and said he would be by in a few hours to pick me up and take me out. We had the most wonderful evening. He showed me Paris by night like I had never seen it. We drove all over the city and the lights were truly amazing. He took me to all of the famous landmarks and I am now a big fan of Paris by car. At 1am we were sitting outside at Café de L’Homme right in front of the Tour Eiffel in perfect time for the 10-minute glitter show. It was breathtaking. I stupidly left my camera at home thinking we were just going to grab a drink. Had a known what we were going to see!!! Oh well. I now know the spots to go to so I can go back and shoot them. The pictures from that night will at least be trapped in my mind. I could have sat there all night. We went up the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. Then we stopped for ice cream on our way to the Louvre. During the day, the Louvre is really wonderful, but oh my goodness, the Louvre at night is stunning. We poked our heads in the windows, spying on the sleeping statues and walked all around the glowing pyramids. It was the perfect Paris night and I’m grateful to my new friend for showing it to me.

At the Café de L’Homme where we sat in front of the Tour Eiffel, I ordered an apple martini. What I got was a very refreshing glass of apple juice! Not exactly like the ones Mikey gets me at the Abbey in LA! Lost in translation I suppose. There was also a very drunk and/or very high man climbing a statue right in front of us. At first it was sort of funny but he kept trying to go higher and I was sure he was going to fall hard before he made it all the way up. He either gave up or passed out because I don’t remember seeing him when I left. Gotta love the crazies of the world.

I got home in time to finally get the video chat working with Mom and Dad! It’s been the most grueling step-by-step process. First nothing, then they could see, but couldn’t hear, then I could see but not hear…back and forth until at last it worked. It was so strange to be sitting here in Paris and seeing my parents on the other side of the world. The technology never ceases to amaze me!

I didn’t get to bed until almost 4 am but it was well worth the wonderful night I had.