Glace

One of the pleasures of Paris in Winter are the many pop-up ice rinks around the city.

This one set up in front of Hôtel-de-Ville (city hall) is particularly picturesque, with its grand Renaissance facade and Notre Dame as a surreal back drop.

I failed to pack my big, flouncy, multi-petticoated skating skirt with me to Paris. I guess I'll just have to do this in jeans like everyone else. Sigh.

I'm a fan of antique carrousels, which Paris has plenty of. There's a particularly pretty one set up next to the ice rink right now. While industrial plastic models abound, you can still occasionally find hand-carved steeds with real horsehair manes and tails.

Not too many kids wanting to ride this time of year.

I'm a Stranger Here Myself

Leaving New York is always hard. When I lived there, I would have major anxiety trying to leave town. Traffic and asshole drivers and bridges and tunnels and a maze of highways and parkways and train and plane delays. Oooh. Wow. I'm glad I'm out of that. But yeah, emotionally, leaving for good was pretty hard as well.

It's maybe a little easier now that I don't have a life there. But still...this is where a great deal of good friends and good times are to be had. Trying to leave the city on a 60 degree day in December...that did not drive me back across the Atlantic with gusto.

I'm under no illusions that this is an easy place to live. It's not. It brings out neuroses in the calmest of people. Your whole week revolves around getting home in time to find a parking spot for alternate side for that car you never use, waiting in lines, coveting what everyone else has got that you didn't get lucky enough to get yourself. It's a dirty, competitive place where you are expected to work 50 hours a week, and people have a habit of not using their vacation time before it expires. The French lifestyle seems much healthier in comparison.

Ultimately, it's a great place to be if you have few responsibilities, and perhaps your commute is on foot. Speaking of the subway...while I was on the platform at West 4th on my way to meet a friend uptown, I found a $1 bill on the platform. That never happens! I looked around for an owner, made sure it was real, then hopped on the train that pulled up right then. Wow, how lucky is it to find money like that. It's too bad that train sat on the tracks in between stations for the next 25 minutes with no explanation. Karma will get you on your commute every time.

Plus, summers in New York are disgusting.

I even summoned enough tourist spirit enough to battle my way through Rock center to see the majestic massacred tree.

I know, I know...this is all very Manhattan-heavy. Brooklyn, I love you too.

I'm sure I will return. I always do.