Paris: Part 1

Apéritifs, kir, and the fresh scent of Marseille soap. Wrought iron, vine-laden windows, and walk-ups with rickety wooden stairs. Ballet flats and berets. Je ne sais quoi and joie de vivre. Unimaginably long lunches and even longer dinners. Et, naturellement, laughter and beaucoup des bissous.

Instead of “conquering,” like the French writer Victor Hugo I’ve come, I’m seeing, and I’m living. My plan, especially in Paris, is to be a part of the action and not simply a spectator of it.

Here’s a brief recap of what I’ve been up to my first few days here:

*I awoke from a fitful slumber on Sunday morning as my plane touched down onto rugged, lush terrain. Grey and dreary, but exciting nonetheless. Marie picked me up from Charles de Gaulle airport and from there we traveled to my apartment in Le Marais (3e arrondissement).

*My studio apartment is petite but in my opinion, parfait. Outfitted with simple sconces, 2 windows overlooking the street, and a kitchenette (more of a closet, really) that I can conveniently tuck away, I couldn’t be happier. The location is also ideal. I’m right at the corner of Rue du Temple and Rue de Bretagne, just a short distance from the Quartier (charming), Châtelet (convenient), and so much more.

*After getting settled, we went out to eat at a little café close to station République. Our fresh summer salads with couscous, accompanied by the most delectable baguette, was exactly what we needed.

*Next, we attended a fabulous little party in honour of the Queen’s Jubilee hosted by Marie’s English friend Claire. That was really fun, although more an introduction to British culture than French. The girls there were the picture of London lovely – all freckles, red hair, chiffon, and stockings. We noshed on cucumber sandwiches, cupcakes, mini pastries, and Pimms (a popular summertime gin-based British beverage, sangria-like in nature). The great company and fine food (and the Marks & Spencer napkins and tablecloth!) made for a very fine festivity.

*Yesterday Marie and I met up with her friend Stephen, who she used to work with several years back. We went to a fantastic creperie on a small cobblestone street overlooking a church. He turned out to be an interesting character who’s opening a spatter of high-end jam boutiques, La Chambre aux Confitures, around the city. If I’m here for the opening of the new location he promised to invite us. I’m crossing my fingers and toes that I am, as taste testing their delectable offerings  would surely be heaven on earth.

*Other than that, I’ve been settling in, getting over my jetlag and insomnia, and familiarizing myself with my new surroundings. Lots of walking and consequent blisters, but it’s all been well worth it. I look forward to venturing out a little more and hope it stops raining so I can spend some more time outside.

À bientôt j'espère,
E

Wine, Tea, Tapas: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across France, England and Spain

How time flies. Just like the plane I’ll be boarding in a little under 2 weeks, that’ll whisk me off on my Elizabeth Gilbert Eat, Pray, Love-esque month long trip to Europe and the UK.

You’re probably wondering why I’ve decided to embark on such an extended reprieve from regular life. The answer is this: my “inspired” tank is in need of a solid reload. Along with my spring cleaning, it’s time to tend to the blueprint (or pinkprint, as Pink Elephant Creative calls it) of my life – shake things up (and out) and consider each item’s necessity in my little world. This hiatus will help me to finally decide on a tangible “next chapter” and concoct a plan of action to bring it to life.

Traveling awakens my senses. It yanks me out of my monotonous trance; days doing work that doesn’t challenge or enrich me and nights alone on my couch watching Entertainment Tonight  and Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Traveling  transports me not only physically but mentally too. It plops me into the centre of a sort of fantastical colouring book where I can let the music wafting up through my window influence the strokes of my paintbrush, or the smells that overtake me at a street market dictate which crayon I reach for.

Enough with the wasted days of unfulfilled ambitions and missed opportunities. I want to push fear (he’s really such a bully) out of my way, commit to a canvas, roll up my sleeves and just start painting.

Throughout my trip, I’ll use this blog to chronicle many of my insights and experiences. A memorable afternoon spent at a café with my favourite French friend Marie and a couple bottles of chardonnay. An anecdote about the intriguing treasures I discover at Portobello Market. Or the impression the sleek, modern sensibitilies of new-world Barcalona leaves on Ari (my partner in crime for that leg of the trip) and myself.

My hope is that by living in the moment (and then writing about it), I'll get back in touch with my true inner self and concequently one step closer to my best life.

Until June 2 (or shortly thereafter),

E

This article has been on my desktop in the “to publish” file for far too long. And after several unsuccessful pitches to Canadian, left-leaning, multicultural-embracing publications, I’ve decided enough is enough. I want to share this.

Even though the relationship I write about didn't work out, the inherent message remains intact. If I could go back I wouldn’t change a thing. Being with K changed me for the better, forever.  And if it can inspire even one person to open their mind to possibilities they otherwise would have disregarded, I’d be satisfied.

TWO ROADS

Finding my way along the path less travelled

NICE. JEWISH. BOY. These are the three words that used to play in my head like a broken record. I heard them in a myriad of voices – all very nasal and high-pitched – accompanied by a wagging finger and a sort of cautionary head shake.

For a while I was resolute on my stance: after seeing boys of various backgrounds (from Colombian to Irish, part-Mexican and beyond), I decided that the “Jewish” part of the nice boy equation was of utmost importance to me. But after a year of sometimes decent albeit ultimately unfulfilling dates with guys that met that criteria – followed by an encounter with a non-Jew that tilted my dating ideology pendulum – I began to rethink my stance on interfaith relationships.

In April of this year, back in Montreal for Passover, I agreed to join my sister and her friends for some drinks post-dinner at Baldwin Barmacie on Laurier. Tired and slightly grumpy as I was, I figured it was worth the eventual free lift home. Little did I know I was about to pick up much more than a couple of gin and tonics and a day-after hangover headache.

Beirut born and raised and of Christian faith, with warm brown eyes and a captivating, slightly mischievous grin, this man was the last thing I was looking for. But we spent the night together so deeply engrossed in conversation that everyone else faded into the background. Hardly even affected by the alcohol and with no reservations whatsoever, I asked him what his thoughts were on the situation in the Middle East. His unbiased answer – backed by hard facts and statistics – was impressive. How could I not admire someone who, even after pulling dead bodies out of the wreckage from the dropped bombs of Israeli pilots, could maintain such an unprejudiced point of view? He told me he liked my “chutzpah” and found my sassiness highly attractive. He respected that I was a writer; an “artist” living life the right way, exploring and contemplating as opposed to just getting by. I told him it’d never work, because we were from such different worlds and living in different cities.

But after that night I couldn’t shake off the lasting impression of this smart, spirited man, so after a few days I contacted him via Facebook. He was thrilled to hear from me and we started speaking regularly. Fast forward to a couple of months later and we’re sitting, side by side, working at my dining room table from our computers. He has been staying with me in Toronto for quite some time now. We’ve been busy building our respective freelance careers, exploring the city on Bixi bikes, and staying up until all hours of the night discussing everything from our fondest memories to our greatest fears.

My parents – who must be credited for pulling me out of Parochial school (where I was miserable) and enrolling me in a progressive, multi-cultural single-sex institution – are still grappling with my budding relationship. And I can’t say I fault them completely. I understand their concern that if my generation ceases to pass on Jewish customs, our over four thousand year old history is at risk of being annihilated. That is not to say people in interfaith relationships cannot continue to practice their own respective religions. However, if everyone were to marry someone of a different faith, and their children married someone of another (or even two) then there is a good likelihood that the grandchildren of that family would not feel unequivocally linked to the religions of their grandparents.

But as the world becomes more interconnected, it is personality and character (as opposed to religion or ethnicity) that are the decisive factor in mate selection. Just because someone celebrates Shabbat or attends the Matzo Ball on Christmas Eve doesn’t mean they’ll leave newspaper clippings on the fridge for me to read before work or love my idiosyncrasies. And as the type of woman who needs a man who satisfies me profoundly – emotionally and intellectually – the latter is of much greater importance. And I have that now. Behind closed doors, sheltered from the disparaging headlines regarding the unequivocally heartbreaking, seemingly hopeless state of affairs in our homelands, my boyfriend and I couldn’t be more compatible.

We are all shaped by where we come from. Factors like what part of the planet we grew up in or the traditions we celebrated with our parents and siblings have an integral role in our development. They shape the way we see the world, often determining things such as whether or not we support single-sex marriage or the death penalty. Like snowflakes, no two of us are alike. And just as we may share similarities such as religion with our next-door neighbor, we may also share a powerful connection to someone who dresses, eats, and talks in a way that is utterly foreign to us – based on a common experience like grieving over a loved one or overcoming social boundaries in order to realize our dreams.

I’ve come to understand that while finding a nice Jewish boy would be nice, it’s the “nice” part of the equation that matters most. Having a partner with whom I share common values – like a commitment to reducing our ecological footprint or volunteering in our spare time – is of greater significance than whether or not he knows what a mezuzah is. And with that understanding, I replace that condescending voice in my head with the words of Robert Frost: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less travelled by. And that has made all the difference.”

Cruz joins the likes of Christy Turlington, Mark Ronson, Taraji P. Henson and more animal loving celebs who've fronted PETA's anti-fur campaign. She has animal passion -- and I'm not just talking about lingering glances stolen through side swept bangs. Well written, Mac Smith (from This Dish is Veg).

Better late than never (I hope)

Written December 31^st, 2011

We’re on the brink of 2012. Poolside in Dominican Republic with my mom, she tells me she’s convinced this year will be my best yet. She can feel it in her bones. I’m a tad skeptical (for months I’ve been urging her to start strength training as calcium alone just won’t cut it), until…

That same night there's a torrential downpour, so I get into bed early to browse for new e-books. I come across Rachel Bertsche's MWF Seeking BFF. Within seconds, it’s been purchased and within hours, devoured. The author, a young, inquisitive, Jewish girl with a sharp sense of humor, writes words that hop, skip, and jump off the page at me like characters from an animated Disney movie.

Our situations definitely differ – she's enjoying married life and looking for new friends while I’m focused on my freelance career and looking for love. So while she’s platonically picking up potential BFFs at mixers, I’m trolling JDate for male suitors who could turn out to be my TL (true love). In both cases, however, we’re actively seeking what we want (and writing about it).

When I virtually close the book at 2am I’m in a full-blown writing frenzy, filled to the brim with inspiration. Time flies by in conjunction with the swooshing of my touch-screen tapping. Overcome with excitement, any hope I had of making my early morning Pilates class the next day falls by the wayside.

But that's A-ok because a bigger, better, more significant plan is in the works. At the dawn of the New Year, after doing lots of soul searching by the beach and reading Rachel’s work, I had an epiphany: if this girl can translate her journey into a well- received memoir, I too can transform my tell-all tales into profitable pieces. And that's how bones, BFFs, and boys came together to create my resolution for the year of the dragon, when I'll be spitting out fire like the fierce writer I am.

Season’s Greeting

All day I've been daydreaming about autumn.

What prompted this fixation was a poster I saw at Starbucks while waiting in line for my soy chai latté . It read: "Here's to shorter days, longer nights and not minding it one bit." Underneath, a beautiful woman, dressed in a chunky beige knit sweater, both hands encapsulating a steaming hot beverage (something undoubtedly sprinkled with cinnamon and frothed to perfection), dons an expression of quiet euphoria.

Walking the block and a half down Bathurst to Richmond with latté in hand, I was a far less picture-perfect version of that poster – a woman reveling in the delight of sipping a warm drink on a chilly day.

Later on, I decided to forgo the subway in favor of a long walk home. Thankfully the bursts of sunlight between buildings offset the cold nipping at my bare ankles. By the time I hit the Annex I was famished, so I stopped at my favorite Thai restaurant (where I sat solo at a table for two, devouring my mango salad, veggie pad thai, and October issue of Chatelaine). The magazine proved to be the perfect companion: engaging and thought-provoking – especially its extravagant “book club” section, which included reviews of several books (the names of which have been transplanted onto my reading list) and a page-turning interview with Vanity Fair editor and author Elissa Schappell.

Here’s an excerpt of the latter:

Chatelaine: What attracts you to these complicated situations?
(Re. her new book, Blueprints for Building Better Girls)

Schappell: That feeling of being uncomfortable and going to those uncomfortable places is where I feel most comfortable. …from the time I was very small, I felt I was different. I felt I was out of step with people around me. …I wanted to say the things people weren’t saying. I’m someone who wants people to really look at stuff. And I feel the best way to get people to listen to you is to be funny. If you’re funny, you can seduce people. Once you get them close enough and laughing, they expose their tender white underbelly and you can drive in the sword of truth.

Everything – from the beautiful walk home to the promise of delicious books aluded to by my dinner date – left me in eager anticipation of the upcoming season. Instead of mourning the loss of freshly cut grass and street festivals, I’m now pining for tranquil nights spent cozied up on my couch, warmed by my blanket, kitten, the green tea at my side, and the Virginia Woolf, Allison Baggio, or Johanna Skibsrud novel I’ll be have on my Kobo Reader.

*Sidenote: My cousin Rebecca Sternthal is in the October issue of Vogue. The piece (Gagosiennes, p.348) offers a rare glimpse into the exclusive world of the high-powered women behind Larry Gagosin’s global art brand. I highly suggest you check it out.

Lunch Bunch

On the menu for today? A mash-up of the food I already had in my fridge & pantry.
It was tough figuring out where to start, but it all worked out in the end.

This is how it went down:

I wanted to use the split pea mash I had made and frozen. Figured the best way to incorporate that into a meal would be to combine it with rice (jasmine thai). Then I added fried garlic and onion, and topped it off with a great garlic sauce I got @ the Distillery Sunday market, Edna's Pickles savoury carrots, and spices (s+p and oregano).

Edna’s pickled product is AMAZING. Add a single tablespoon to any dish and amp up the Mmm factor.

The dish was good! I especially enjoyed the carrots, which became melt-in-your-mouth tender from being added to the steamy rice, and the bursts of garlic in each bite.