Hello
A Note from The Coffee Table….
Here to mess with your romantic dreams of life and amour in “The City of Lights”; debunking myths, perpetuating old prejudices and conjuring new stereotypes about the French daily. This is a sliver of reality for those blind and silly in Paris-love who have “always dreamed of living in Paris” and “would-move-in-a-heartbeat!” Newsflash: She’s living in Paris and she’s not eating bon-bons, that’s for sure. She does; however, buy baguettes almost daily from the boulangerie around the corner and wears jeans everywhere. This might also provide some insight to non-English speaking French who will never know what’s on her twisted mind, otherwise; she may be having some pretty good laughs about you and running home to share them with a little community that she calls The Internet. Don’t worry, it’s a huge party and hardly anyone knows anyone else.
An absolute non-Francophile, she hails from the perfect little city-town of San Francisco. She is multi-cultural, multi-talented and multi-lingual, but none of that matters in her new world because she can’t demonstrate or speak in the language that she absolutely needs for survival. Her arrival in Paris follows 15 years after stating with absolute certainty in high school, “I’m not taking French. I’ll never need it.” Some friends will also report having heard her say 1 or 30 times as she planned her next travels, “Forget Europe. I’ll go when I’m 60, and too old for adventures.” Evidently, she had nary an illusion-delusion-or-Paris dream so it makes perfect karmic sense that she was discovered - dirty, penniless and hungry, but still smiling - by her French amour de sa vie on a tiny island off the much larger, little known island of Borneo; a place that she didn’t know existed just 2 weeks prior to their meeting. There’s a moral to this story: Be ye not as close-minded as she!
She waved goodbye to her beloved San Francisco Bay Area 2 months after their wedding, armed with her precious Thinkpad and 20 words of French but sadly, still no love for the “the most romantic city in the world.” She arrived with the cold season and desperately sought the American understanding to her daily woes: f=c*9/5+32. She computes daily and wants The Internet to know that she doesn’t really hate thinks Paris is getting to be ok.
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