Tag Archives: Paris

La Belle Époque

I think I have the case of the travel bug. Lately, I’ve been taking virtual trips to Paris.
Tour Eiffel, 2004
I live vicariously through Adam Gopnik’s Paris to the Moon and Julia Child’s My Life in France.
I also watched Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. It’s a sweet story about one of my favorite cities in the world.

As Owen Wilson floated between modern-day Paris and its 1920s past, my heart tripped to see all the places I visited during my Eurotrip.
[Facebook peeps: Check out my blog to see a video trailer of Midnight in Paris!]

Living for my weekends

La vie en rose? I kept it simple for Happy Hour on my Friday. Other people called it Wednesday or “Hump Day.” I called it the start of my weekend.

Yesterday, I enjoyed French red wine, a salmon sandwich and a good book at Cafe du Soleil in San Francisco.
Cafe du Soleil
I watched dogs walk their humans or chase after them on their bicycles. I saw a dad teaching his kids how to ride bikes by the intersection. Another guy blew-up at a couple down the street. Heads swiveled from cafe patrons and pedestrians when his cursing got louder.

This wine bar in the Haight reminded me of my favorite French bistro in St. Petersburg, Russia.
Chicken pate and a French Merlot

Les Amis De Jean-Jacques near Bolshoy pr reminded me of other bistros in Paris.
By Andrea James
[By Andrea James]

Even though it felt like the first day of winter in San Francisco, I wanted to enjoy my wine outside and read Gopnik’s “Paris to the Moon.” I just wrapped up my 8-day work week and I think I’m getting over my cold.

Time to celebrate the weekend.
Continue reading

The City of Lights

So many lovely memories of Paris floated back for me when I saw this shot of the President Obama and Malia inside the Pompidou Centre.

This is a charming shot. I hope Malia and her sister treasures their memories of this family trip in Europe.

Our little flat in the 3rd Arron. sat next to the Pompidou. I passed it every day on my way to class for my Global Journalism Seminar.

In the mornings, I’d nibble on a croissant and sip an espresso at the cafe around the corner from the Pompidou. At night, Mark and I found a bar near the Pompidou. I read Hemingway’s “A Movable Feast,” and sipped a white Russian.

I loved Paris.
Can’t wait to go back…some day.