Alright, the tomatoes and sunflowers were planted! Most of the pots have seeds waiting to sprout and give me some nice garden by july and august. After a rainy May, the terrace is not looking too bad.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
An ice cream and a show
Juggling of a football, climbing of a street lamp, impromptu band singing on the steps of Sacre Coeur, opportunists selling bottles of beer under the sunny Paris sky, and us enjoying the view with ice cream and a chat.
Meet Jeff, of Montmartre
While on a layover in Paris, I made a lunch appointment with Laeti to bring her swimming towels she forgot last summer. She had a small studio at the foot of Montmartre, in the IXeme arrondissement, and I was happy to visit a new area of Paris. From the metro Notre Dame de Lorette, we grabbed a small lunch in a Chinese restaurant in her street, and walked leisurely towards the Sacre Coeur, seen here and there between the buildings.
The weather was somewhat sunny and not warm enough to make us sweat, due to a chilly wind lingering under the shades. We strolled slowly, window shopped, caught up on work and the election results. She showed me the cafe des 2 moulins, from the movie Amelie, and we admired the rooftop gardens and the view on Paris from the heights of the streets. I also took note of the different eateries and bakeries along the way, reminding myself I was not hungry.
After a nice windmill at a corner (le moulin de la Galette, which inspired the painting by Renoir), which is now an expensive garden restaurant, my eyes suddenly were staring with fascination at a window displaying an amazingly detailed maquette of a ranch. Inside, someone was motioning invitedly and opened the door. I hesitantly entered the gallery, while whispering to Laeti how I always end up in weird situations like these.
I was fascinated by the maquette, and he seemed eager to find out whether we were artists, which we were not. But he played on my vanity and insisted I was one, since I write, sometimes paint int he middle of the night, and play music (for only myself). He described the maquette in details, indicating the inside of the cabin, which has dining table with drawers, and inside there are things too, or how the moss is growing, and that it is a hobby of his to make this little ranch. It is a maquette of about 2x1m and the details extend to the mouse in the rocks of the well, or the bird's nest in the tree that contains eggs, or the toilet paper roll in the toilet outside the cabin.
And much like the expat American that he is, he invited us in the back of the shop, where a sunny room with a chimney was occupied by the double bed, and the back garden was seen through old Provencal ceiling to floor windows. Outside had an air of south of France, with a "ceci n'est pas un cafe" colorful store referring to René Magritte's "ceci n'est pas une pipe". It didn't feel like Paris, wit Bob the cat shyly evading our caresses between pots of plants of a cozy English garden.
He said the backyard kept him sane and brings him joy and calm. I understood and agreed with his point of view, and could only marvel at his achievement of getting this haven of peace and quiet in the middle of Paris. His encounter was one that I remember for his detailed ranch, which I could look at for hours.
While leaving Jeff's gallery, I was somehow struck with this thought:
" My ideal man would fascinate me this much, in his work and peculiarity, his passion, and artistry"
I was glad Jeff was married and too old to my taste, because I am still superficial despite my nerdiness....
After a nice windmill at a corner (le moulin de la Galette, which inspired the painting by Renoir), which is now an expensive garden restaurant, my eyes suddenly were staring with fascination at a window displaying an amazingly detailed maquette of a ranch. Inside, someone was motioning invitedly and opened the door. I hesitantly entered the gallery, while whispering to Laeti how I always end up in weird situations like these.
I was fascinated by the maquette, and he seemed eager to find out whether we were artists, which we were not. But he played on my vanity and insisted I was one, since I write, sometimes paint int he middle of the night, and play music (for only myself). He described the maquette in details, indicating the inside of the cabin, which has dining table with drawers, and inside there are things too, or how the moss is growing, and that it is a hobby of his to make this little ranch. It is a maquette of about 2x1m and the details extend to the mouse in the rocks of the well, or the bird's nest in the tree that contains eggs, or the toilet paper roll in the toilet outside the cabin.
And much like the expat American that he is, he invited us in the back of the shop, where a sunny room with a chimney was occupied by the double bed, and the back garden was seen through old Provencal ceiling to floor windows. Outside had an air of south of France, with a "ceci n'est pas un cafe" colorful store referring to René Magritte's "ceci n'est pas une pipe". It didn't feel like Paris, wit Bob the cat shyly evading our caresses between pots of plants of a cozy English garden.
He said the backyard kept him sane and brings him joy and calm. I understood and agreed with his point of view, and could only marvel at his achievement of getting this haven of peace and quiet in the middle of Paris. His encounter was one that I remember for his detailed ranch, which I could look at for hours.
While leaving Jeff's gallery, I was somehow struck with this thought:
" My ideal man would fascinate me this much, in his work and peculiarity, his passion, and artistry"
I was glad Jeff was married and too old to my taste, because I am still superficial despite my nerdiness....
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
An exercise in focus
As the days go by, monotonous and unnoticed, it was refreshing to suddenly concentrate all my focus in one single small task: balancing.
On a week holiday at a waterpark resort, I was tempted by the thrill of treetop adventure. However, after seeing how high the circuit was, and witnessing another group crossing platform after platform with worried looks, I became deflated and even sick in the stomach.
Nonetheless, because I initiated the idea, and because there would be no other time to try it, I went ahead and climbed last. I was worried about getting dizzy and fear the heights, so much that my legs felt like cotton before I even climbed the first wobbly stairs.
In a matter of minutes, it became clear that it wasn't at all what I expected. I was awaiting nausea and fear from the heights, but what welcomed me was pure physical effort in climbing the stairs while swaying and being restricted by my pants and shortness of leg. In addition, my arms had to pull me all the way up, and I had to find a grip comfortable enough to be repeated endlessly and hold me for a while. When I stepped foot on the first platform, my breath was taken away from the effort, as well as my strength, but I told myself not to give up. After all, kids were doing it in the morning, so I had to work myself up for the challenge.
It was interesting that I didn't even look down once, to see how high it was. I was instinctively attracted by the tree trunk, which I hugged and kept close while I proceeded to the next path. My eyes were fixated on the cable to cross to get to the next platform. I could hear encouragement ad jokes down below me, but they were easily blocked as soon as I set foot on that cable. From all that remained in my focus was the cable, my feet, and my breath.
For the remaining of the next 45-50min, I would look only at the green ropes, wooden plank and cables that I had to cross. Each gesture was carefully executed with a conscious breath out, while my brain was counting 1 to 10 at each breath. Funnily enough, I felt strangely reassured by the counting, and a wild sense of achievement was always felt after the number 10, even if I was in the middle of the air, mid-cable or mid-circuit.
I experienced a brain blank at the 3rd exercise, but a suggestion from the instruction below helped and I was soon back to counting. There were some exercises that could be done by just walking on cables instead of swinging the rope or climbing the wall. Although I found it exciting to try, I always opted for the cable, reasoning that at least there was something below my feet.
That feeling was challenged at the rope sliding exercise. I could not talk myself into letting go of the ground. Eventually I listened to someone suggesting to just sit down and let harness support me. Zab was also waiting for me across the rope, so I let go and made it to the next platform, to be told there were 2 more of these before the end...
I haven't been focusing so hard ever, so it was very rewarding to learn how I reacted and what I do in such stressful situation. My mind is a strange thing, content to count form 1 to 10 to abstract everything else but the task at hand, partitioned into tiny gestures that suddenly have its importance: the sliding of a foot, the bending of knees, the breathing out (I cannot remember when I breath in!).
I hope to be able to enjoy the landscape, the next time I climb or trek an have to challenge the height, lack of air, and physical effort involved.
On a week holiday at a waterpark resort, I was tempted by the thrill of treetop adventure. However, after seeing how high the circuit was, and witnessing another group crossing platform after platform with worried looks, I became deflated and even sick in the stomach.
Nonetheless, because I initiated the idea, and because there would be no other time to try it, I went ahead and climbed last. I was worried about getting dizzy and fear the heights, so much that my legs felt like cotton before I even climbed the first wobbly stairs.
It was interesting that I didn't even look down once, to see how high it was. I was instinctively attracted by the tree trunk, which I hugged and kept close while I proceeded to the next path. My eyes were fixated on the cable to cross to get to the next platform. I could hear encouragement ad jokes down below me, but they were easily blocked as soon as I set foot on that cable. From all that remained in my focus was the cable, my feet, and my breath.
For the remaining of the next 45-50min, I would look only at the green ropes, wooden plank and cables that I had to cross. Each gesture was carefully executed with a conscious breath out, while my brain was counting 1 to 10 at each breath. Funnily enough, I felt strangely reassured by the counting, and a wild sense of achievement was always felt after the number 10, even if I was in the middle of the air, mid-cable or mid-circuit.
That feeling was challenged at the rope sliding exercise. I could not talk myself into letting go of the ground. Eventually I listened to someone suggesting to just sit down and let harness support me. Zab was also waiting for me across the rope, so I let go and made it to the next platform, to be told there were 2 more of these before the end...
As the obstacles appeared, my body and mind would work really hard to focus and balance. I forgot I had a harness and every step was to advance to the next platform. I realize now I did not even see the surrounding landscape. But after every exercise, I would let go of all my breath and relax all my muscles, as if I was about to faint, before focusing on the next obstacle.
I hope to be able to enjoy the landscape, the next time I climb or trek an have to challenge the height, lack of air, and physical effort involved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)