Craving Paris

Yes, Paris, darling! I miss it. Actually, I miss France in general. I've been thinking about this beautiful city for about a month now. Then over the weekend I picked up my favorite Hemingway book, A Moveable Feast. If my craving for Paris was a seed before it is in full bloom now due to Hem.

I miss the winding streets, the old buildings that all look the same so you easily get lost, the amazing museums, and of course, le food. In fact, Hemingway describes French food so deliciously that I found myself running to the nearest specialty supermarket and grabbing baguettes, fromage, et saucisse galore. And a bottle of chardonnay, mais oui.

It was tasty and rich. It filled one sort of craving but not the larger one that seems to be occupying my heart at the moment. A friend of mine is leaving his job, selling his flat, and moving to Spain to marry his boyfriend and live in the sun. I am gob-smackingly jealous. Fist in mouth jealous. He's doing everything I would love to do but due to present circumstances is impossible right now.

"Don't worry, Kathryn, you'll come visit us."

"Can we go to Paris? I miss Paris."

"The train to Paris isn't far away. We'll go and walk Le Champs D'Lysee, peruse the Louvre, sit at a terrace cafe and enjoy an apertif."

All I can think about is an early summer morning in Paris when I was 17. I woke up and walked out into the morning sunshine in le arrondissemont of Montparnasse. There were few people out and the city seemed sleepy. The leafy street trees were like cheerful friends and the air smelled exciting and foreign. It promised good things to come. I bought a croissant et une cafe then walked along the slowly waking streets pondering a distant future.

In the meantime, in a city far away from Paris, there's always Hemingway to help fill the immediate craving. I just wish I'd stop buying baguettes already. Unlike Hem, you can only have so much bread.