As it turned out, the hustle and bustle of Parisian life kept me far away from my MacBook , but luckily I carried my black Moleskin journal (just like Hemingway) everywhere. Here is one excerpt from that journal: “A few days in Paris and we’re still adapting to the city’s rhythm or essence. What a change of pace from our remote and undisturbed Montana! We haven’t explored the countless chocolate shops. Not yet. Instead, we’ve whizzed our way through my husband’s native city on the Metro, exploring museums, monuments and colorful department stores. Today, while eating ice cream on a park bench in Levallois, a young boy -le gourmand- (age 4? 5?) peered over my shoulder, “Est-ce une bonne glace Madame? Bon Appetit!” Startled, and struggling to answer in passable French (which isn’t easy for moi), I smiled. This was the moment of realization for me… I am in France, a country that purposefully teaches little ones the joy of gastronomic delights.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Le Gourmand
As it turned out, the hustle and bustle of Parisian life kept me far away from my MacBook , but luckily I carried my black Moleskin journal (just like Hemingway) everywhere. Here is one excerpt from that journal: “A few days in Paris and we’re still adapting to the city’s rhythm or essence. What a change of pace from our remote and undisturbed Montana! We haven’t explored the countless chocolate shops. Not yet. Instead, we’ve whizzed our way through my husband’s native city on the Metro, exploring museums, monuments and colorful department stores. Today, while eating ice cream on a park bench in Levallois, a young boy -le gourmand- (age 4? 5?) peered over my shoulder, “Est-ce une bonne glace Madame? Bon Appetit!” Startled, and struggling to answer in passable French (which isn’t easy for moi), I smiled. This was the moment of realization for me… I am in France, a country that purposefully teaches little ones the joy of gastronomic delights.
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