Nice Weather for Polar Bears

I didn't mean to end up in New York for some of the coldest weather in decades.

It just happened to work out like that.  More on the reasons for that later.

It was really nice to be back though.  I still get a bit of a culture shock the moment I step off the plane, and it lasts for a bit.  You walk in to a diner, they will serve you anything at all hours of the night (and they are nice about it!), and there is ketchup on every table.  THAT IS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER.  It is if you've lived in Paris for a while anyway.  Ketchup!  You don't have to ask for it!  It's there, free for the taking, to drown whatever your want in, no judgments!  Also, when you walk into a store and someone rushes over to help you....THAT IS AMAZING AS WELL.  I spent the first week in New York nervously chatting with clerks and barkeeps, thrilled and wide-eyed about all things American.  Seriously!  What exactly did France do to me, anyway?

Aside from being greeted by crippling blasts of polar air, plenty of snow and ice, and a bit of griping from the locals, I was so cheery and happy to be back, I hardly noticed that I couldn't feel my...well, much of anything.  Not since childhood in Maine had I been in cold that bitter and nasty.

I really packed a lot in this trip.

I landed a temporary pad right in Columbus Circle.  At first, I was a little horrified, as this is a very tourist-and-mall-shop heavy area of Manhattan.  Then it dawned on me:  I barely had to walk more than three blocks in any direction, and all my errands were taken care of.  It was a brilliant place to center oneself.  And oh, man, takeout!  We had forgotten that if you don't feel like going out, there is always someone willing to bring food to you.

I actually had to try really hard to leave the neighborhood, as that very uptown-New York mentality set in where everything seemed so very far away suddenly.  Visiting friends in the East Village became a schlep, and what, you want me to come to Brooklyn, what?

Still, there was much fun to be had.  More than anything, it felt good to be with old friends again.  They braved the cold and snow and we ate and drank and acted like fools.  It was perfect.  No one I know is lame enough to consider going on a post-new year health food binge.  For that, I am grateful.

Magic! Paris Under a Blanket of Snow.

Meanwhile, back in Paris...what started out as big, wet flakes...

...Accumulated overnight to a very lovely blanket. It rarely snows in Paris. Or, that is what they tell you before throwing their hands up in the air and shrugging at the fact that there are no plows at the airports, and the entire snowy weekend, I saw but one plow on the road. Despite being at the same Latitude as Vancouver, ocean currents conspire to keep the city warm enough to rain all winter.

Except now, where we get lovely beautiful awesome snow. I didn't even bring my fancy fleece-lined snow boots. After 0 snow in NYC last year, I threw them in storage based on the fact that 1. They take up a whole lot of space the other 364 days of the year that I'm not needing them and 2. It's not supposed to snow in Paris. I dug out my beat-up hiking boots that I haven't worn since Norway and they caused my toenails to go missing, put the hood on my camera and went for a couple nice long walks.

No one shovels the walks here either. How about that! If my family from Maine were here, they would have started compulsively shoveling all the things.

It was a tad treacherous to get around, but oh, oh so lovely. It because a different city entirely. Much like New York, but less griping and more child-like wonder.

The streets were fairly quiet, and I think my fruit seller at the local marche was a little bored. He made the cutest bonhomme du neige and with cold fingers, I fumbled to buy the lion's share of the clementines he had that day. There's nothing like bright sunny citrus when it is snowing out.

Most of the metro lines were still running, although there was not a bus to be seen all weekend.

We were inspired to meet up with some friends for our first-ever Paris dim sum trial.

zit was nowhere near as good or crave-inducing as San Fran or NYC, but passable. Dumplings for breakfast can never be so terrible that anyone would outright reject them.

Of course, afterwards, there was much merry making and trouble making.

Nice shot!

As long as you weren't in too much of a hurry and you thought to bundle up, it was completely joyful to be out.

It made the still-too-short hours of daylight all the more enjoyable.

Hope you are all loving your very own winter wonderland.