Thursday, December 29, 2016

JOYEUX NOEL, MON AMOUR

   

Thirty years ago I had a dream. In the dream, some friends had sent me to Paris at Christmas time.

A slight frosting of snow iced the sidewalk like powdered sugar frosting on cake. I stretched upward, tip-toe, on the very edge of my pointed, leather boots. The chill in the air forced me to pull my winter coat more closely around me. Light snowflakes fell upon my nose and lips.

I peered into a shop window, comprised of small panes of glass. My face pressed up against the clear crystalline structures, framed by narrow white wooden squares. Inside the shop were row after row of small cubicles of items, directly lined up parallel to the window. I could see an entire array of small, inset, square alcoves, perched right inside the store windows.

In every little cubicle of the of the long, wide, high shelves, sat glass jars containing colored items. To this day I do not know if it was a candy shop or an apothecary store. But I stood and stared, trying to read all the French labels, through the frosty window. I felt like a little girl in a state of wonder.

My eyes strained. Although I have a passable French vocabulary, many words I do not know. I will never forget that dream. Someday I believe some friends really will send me to Paris at Christmas.
                              

Perhaps it was an old-fashioned drugstore, unlike the many modern green-crossed drugstores currently sprawled across France's major city. The jars may have contained herbal remedies of many varied hues displayed in the cubicles of the shelves. Maybe they were medicinal spices known for their many healing potentials...like cinnamon for blood sugar levels, lavender for mending shattered nerves, as well as chamomile, and fox glove blossoms, (made by drug companies into digitalis), to regulate heart problems.

                                              


My first trip to Paris brought healing and encouragement into my life. It brought assurance that no matter what life changes occur, Paris, that ancient city, stretched its arms of welcome to me, and her people showed me love.

I fear that the next time I arrive, the city may have changed. You would think that Paris, an immovable, unchangeable feast Hemingway would prescribe for all ills, could never lose her luster or her life.

                  

However, I fear that with the advent of "No go Zones", in other parts of France such as Lyon and Marseilles, that Paris too might be wounded. Her noble character I fear may be raped or wounded by those who wish her and her inhabitants harm.


                     


Can one visit Paris even now without fear? I wanted so to attend classes at the Sorbonne. I desired to sunbathe on the beaches of Cannes, view the sailboats at Monte Carlo. I heard that Lyon is deliciously edible.

And chateaux country...what greater dream than to tour the mighty castles stretched across the Loire Valley, where French history unfolded upon the gentle background scenery. To bicycle along the roads of France, or saunter gently southward along the roads of France, have lain within my heart of hearts.

              
                             

Will it be safe when I return? Will my love, France, be as stately and protected as she  once was?

Or will she have fallen victim to roving bands of brigands that likewise ravish other European  nations at this point in time?

I recently met a woman from Sweden who told me that blond women no longer venture onto the streets of that nation. I pray that France known for its joy of life will not be forced to cloister its women, for styles and clothing were once one of the nation's most exportable commodities. I pray that France will not be filched by false friends!

May Paris in her lovely crown of France safely await my return. Joyeux Noel, mes amies.


        


Saturday, July 9, 2016

OODLES OF POODLES

                                      Photo Credit: Coleen Clark      Copyright @2015

I REALIZED THIS AFTERNOON WHILE EATING  a French baguette enclosing ham and cheese...that's au jambon et fromage for those French-lovers out there...


that my earliest impressions of Paris as a toddler were the poodles of circle skirts worn by the dancers on American bandstand in the nineteen-fifties. You can still find photos of Arlene Sullivan dancing while wearing her famous poodle skirt circa 1959.




So I fixated on poodles. French poodles. Oodles of poodles. 






Walt Disney of course helped with his 1955 movie "Lady and The Tramp" about two dogs who fall in love. Who can forget the scene where they are eating spaghetti out of one dish on a checked red and white table? European buildings dot the background, romantic candle and baguettes grace the foreground, while they work their way to the middle of a spaghetti strand. It ends in a kiss!

      
               
                                        ( Click You Tube link on bottom right of video.)
        

Mother went to the beauty salon every week to get her hair set and put up in a French twist. It made her ravishingly beautiful, like Grace Kelly. Only Mom was a brunette. So - more like Rita Hayworth.  All the men wanted her. It formed a strong opinion in my mind about anything French.

Then again, maybe it was her fragrance. Mom's "Evening In Paris" perfume in the midnight blue bottle with gold-domed top, sat on her dresser among the other bottles of Tabu, Topaz, and Jean Nate'.


                                     EVENING IN PARIS PERFUME


So I guess in my little girl mind the next best thing to an evening in Paris while wearing a "French Twist" must be a French poodle!  From the time I was five, every night I got down on my knees and literally begged God to give me a French poodle. 

Dad finally got my sister and I the poodle I so longed for. But for some reason we just couldn't house-train him. So we'd put him in the yard. He'd run over to the neighbors. Or worse yet, blocks and blocks away. Dad would  get in the car and search the neighborhood for Francois.

But what really bowled me over was that Dad decided to get rid of our little toy poodle because he wouldn't stay in the yard. Never mind that we could have tied him to a rope. I don't think Dad wanted Francois much, anyway. I think Father was still mad over the German Shepherd that had petrified me as a baby when it either bit  me or knocked me over. Guess our dad never got over that. But to me, little dogs like our toy poodle, weren't nearly as scary. 

So one day Francois disappeared and never came back. I'm pretty sure Dad gave him away. But I longed for my Francois ever since.  Then one day in a park in Paris I met Francois....


       
                                       Photo Credit: Coleen Clark     Copyright @ 2015


TO BE CONTINUED ...in the book:  I FELL FOR PARIS.

Saturday, June 4, 2016

THE SKIES ABOVE PARIS CRY

SKIES ABOVE PARIS CRY-POURING TEARS OF RAIN




                                           FLOODS INUNDATE FRANCE


Since the last week of May the skies over France have poured out rain, as though the tears of someone watching over that nation - are falling.

Paris basements are flooded. Museums are closed. So if you find yourself in Paris the week of June 3-10th, 2016 be prepared not to get into the Louvre, Musee' D'Orsay, Grand Palais or other main tourist landmarks in Paris. The transferal of the Louvre's art is underway, says French Minister of Culture,  Audrey Azoulay. The Louvre, world's largest museum, seen by 9.7 million tourists per year, has boxed up many of its artworks preparing for storage of the items in its basement. (To put such invaluable artwork in the basement of a city that is rapidly flooding seems foolhardy, but they must have some kind of special underground facility impervious to flowing water to dare such an unexpectedly chancy act.)


http://www.euronews.com/2016/06/03/paris-in-flood-transport-chaos-and-museum-closures-cause-pandemonium

Subway trains in downtown Paris are at a standstill with flooded subway stations and rails. Many roads are closed. Restaurants in the center of Paris, particularly near the Seine are temporarily shuttered up. Paris' riverboat attractions are not operating. Water is so high under bridges that there isn't enough clearance for passengers and boats alike.


Parisians are closely watching the Zouave statue below Pont de l'Alma. In previous floods the water reached various heights according to various parts of the statue's anatomy.

Winter of 1982 the water reached 6.18 meters. In 1955 it climbed to 7.12 meters, and previously, in 1910 floodwaters reached almost up to the statue's head, at 8.62 meters.

ZOAUVE' STATUES FEET ARE COVERED


This is France's worst flooding since recordkeeping began. Seven Departments across the country have severe weather warnings. The Loiret region is one of the most devastated areas. Even the French castle Chambord finds waters threatening to breach its walls like no other enemy can. Water stands pooling in its inner courtyards.

FAMOUS 5,000 YEAR OLD CASTLE FLOODED




CARS ALMOST COMPLETELY SUBMERGED


Officials say the Seine waters started to fall on Saturday, after peaking at its highest in almost 40 years. But France is looking at perhaps ten days before the waters actually recede entirely. Unfortunately, more rain is in the forecast.


http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/World/Europe/River-Seine-water-levels-decrease-after-paris-flooding-peak/articleshow/52587299.cms


So why have the skies above Paris been deluging the nation with a downpour of tears? Perhaps it's because Paris and all of France are undergoing radical change, invisible to the eyes of most. Just as in America something called "Cognitive Dissonance" goes on among the majority of the populace while they carry out their busy lives.

FIGHTING COGNITIVE DISSONANCE AND THE LIES WE TELL OURSELVES



PARIS IS FLOODED - BUT IS IT REALLY JUST WATER?

The inviting culture that has been France's hallmark, its history, castles left by royalty, love of the arts, architecture, fine food and wine may now be erased. Within a few short decades its culture will have radically changed.

The last major conquering force very overtly changed Parisian culture. After two millennia a civilization has lost its collective memory and therefore its will to survive.

Some say Caesar's greatest military victory was his invasion of Gaul, in 59 B.C. Fifty -five thousand Romans warred upon 250,000 Celts from 58 to 51 B.C. Julius Caesar's published commentary vividly recalls the successful invasion.


COMMENTARIES ON THE GALLIC WAR by Gaius Julius Caesar


He proclaimed himself Gaul's governor, building a 14-mile wide fortress. In 52 B.C. Celtic leader Vercingetorix was imprisoned, then finally strangled in Rome's Forum.

Frenchmen were created from a mixture of Gallic and Roman DNA. So the Celtic culture of the original inhabitants declined amidst the warlike nature of the overpowering Romans. Ancient France was now forever changed by its cruel conquerors, who by proximity mated with and married the native people. Then Rome ruled Gaul for 500 years. It seems like a long time to us in modern days, but patterns of history repeat themselves when you see a long range view.

Only not all conquerors are quite so visible. An undetectable serpent, whose winding segments continually attach themselves together over the wide expanse of Europe, are forming into a deadly leviathan, planning to strangle the rich life out of the beautiful European nations, including France itself.

Socialistic politically, France has no clue, and will be taken completely unawares by the insidiously creeping devourer that will snuff the breath out of that beautiful culture.


THE DEATH OF FREE SPEECH: THE WEST VEILS ITSELF

World news for the most part refuses to report what is happening in surrounding nations like Germany and Sweden. Invaders have swept in, raping the womenfolk, as always happens as a byproduct of cruel war.

German and Swiss women are afraid to walk the streets of their cities for fear they will be raped or killed by lawless warriors who prey upon the kind-hearted population.  Girls as young as eleven, are being gang-raped by these heartless brutes. Humanitarian Western culture, deceived by their Christian-formed psyches don't understand the invaders one bit, and will allow them to Trojan-Horse-march across their country-sides.


EUROPE'S RAPE EPIDEMIC: WESTERN WOMEN WILL BE SACRIFICED



Paris is being washed, bathed in flood waters, perhaps even being BAPTIZED. France's only hope for deliverance from the fate ahead is turning to Jesus Christ - the Savior of all the Earth.

Only realizing that the One who came to set all Mankind Free, will actually keep nations free, and will save the countries who turn to Him for help. But don't wait until it's too late.

No matter whether you are Catholic or Protestant or any other religion, no matter what any man says - be he king or pope, Jesus said:


"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life, no man cometh unto the Father except by Me."  John 14:6
                                                          
Only by turning with all their heart in repentance, realizing how far they have turned from Christ, will France last as a whole nation. Only by making Jesus Christ its "figurehead", will France remain free.

So be Baptized, be Baptized, Paris and all of France. Stay free!

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is - there is LIBERTY!"   II Corinthians 3:17  
             

                                               FLOODS INUNDATE PARIS

Sunday, May 8, 2016

GOOD NEWS ABOUT "I FELL FOR PARIS" THE BOOK

         



                                                       Copyright May 2015         Photo Credit: VAC


                                       "DISCOVER HOW ONE LITTLE GIRL REALIZED HER DREAM"
"This is a travel book like none you have ever read before. It's a guide to the do's and don'ts in Paris. Whether art lover, priest, scientist, or shopping addict...If you've ever wanted to visit Paris, THIS IS THE BOOK TO READ.
"It is also a touching story of family ties rewoven. See the City of Light through the eyes of a woman who waited 50 years to see her beloved Paris. Go on an armchair adventure!" 
                                                              
Finally published it! The first copy went to Writer's Digest Annual Book Contest. The deadline was May 2nd. I am praying to win the Grand Prize. That would send me to New York City, to the Annual Writer's Digest Convention, all expenses paid.

It would give me entre' to industry sources, editors from major publishing houses who might be interested in re-publishing "I FELL FOR PARIS" on a much broader scale. That would include marketing and business help they provide to the Grand Prize Winner.

Last time I entered a Writer's Digest contest was back in 2001. I entered a magazine article called, "What the World Needs Now".  It got an "Honorable Mention" out of 19,000 peoples' entries. I guess that wasn't too bad. But I finally got up the courage to enter my new book.


                          



Since I entered the contest, and Writer's Digest has first printing rights on the book, that means that I can't post it on Amazon Kindle e-books until at least October, when I find out whether I won the contest or not. However I have an order with a publishing company for a small number of books. I will have to sell them at $15.99 each just to break even.

And everyone I tell says, "Oh, you'll have to give me a copy."

 Well I would love to give away copies but just can't do it financially yet. The books will soon be available though - on two new websites, I FELL FOR PARIS.COM   and  WWW.COLEENCLARKAUTHOR.COM.

About two-three months and these sites (and books) should be available.

I am planning some book signings for either summer or fall. Stay tuned to find out where and when. You can buy the book right in the store. I will even sign it for you!

Also be watching for books TWO and THREE:

"REACH UP HIGHER"    and   "BACK TO THE WOMB, BUTTERFLY"  

                                       ALSO IN PROGRESS!


Those two books I will be able to put on Amazon.com Kindle e-books since I'm not planning on entering them into any contests. You will also be able to buy them  on the above two websites (in purple) and links from this blog as well.

So hang tight! It will be available soon. Don't hold your breath! Okay then, go ahead!

Till next T-I-M-E - I still love Paris! But I love America even more. I pray God blesses and protects both nations.     
Photo Credit: CC 2016

Sunday, May 1, 2016

WHY WOULD TIME TRAVEL BE IN A BOOK ABOUT TRAVEL?


Why would Time Travel be in a book about TRAVEL?        

Well time travel IS a form of TRAVEL - isn't it? What's not to like?

If you are going to do something you might as well do it right. I guess I go a little to extremes. But if I am going to do something, then I am going to do it all the way!

This might not seem to be about Paris. But TRUST ME...IT IS...EVENTUALLY.

Ever since I was a small child I have been fascinated by the concept of time. I remember at the age of eight holding two mirrors together. One was a decorated, handheld boudoir-type mirror. The other was my mother's round magnifying mirror that she used for make-up or tweezing eyebrow hairs. When I held the two mirrors together, slanted, I could see the reflection of one mirror repeated endlessly in the other mirror, like a never-ending corridor. It made me think of a tunnel of time.
                                                                     Copyright 2016                Photo Credit: C. Clark

Also as a little girl, I found that the hours seemed to drag endlessly on. I was never bored. I always read books, or sang or drew. But the hours always seemed endless, even when my family was having fun. Sometimes I would return to pondering the subject, trying to gauge the speed of the passage of time depending on various activities I was doing, to see if there was any difference.

I observed the passage of time and sometimes even consciously measured it, seeing if I had an interior clock. I found out I did. By the time I was an adult, I could sometimes set this interior clock to waken myself at an exact time I desired. But I never relied on it as an every day alarm. When I grew up into a "responsible" adult...well that's all RELATIVE - isn't it? I usually fell back on a mechanical clock. Until everyone started using their cell phones as mini-computers. Now alarm clocks have become almost obsolete.

But growing up in the 1960's as a child, I often pondered things most kids probably don't. I was always wondering about the curtain between this world and the next dimension. Why did ghosts seem to appear to people in real life accounts, after loved ones had died? I also wondered why the science fiction of yesterday always became the science of today.

I expected science to cure all the ills in the world. I also expected technology to eventually do what seemed impossible presently. Just like flying cars and time travel.

One day, when I was about ten years old, I remember standing below the brown, wooden stairwell in our small, two story house where I grew up. I was playing with a balloon brought home from a party, no doubt.

 Focusing on the principle of propulsion and how the balloon was propelled by the flux of air out of the open hole of the balloon as I let it fly, I watched. Over and over again I blew up the balloon and let it zoom ceiling-ward. Suddenly I imagined the principle of a vacuum, which was exactly the opposite of what I was observing. I wondered if propulsion could occur from a vacuum as well? Or if a force could be derived from it to move objects somehow?

When "Back To The Future" the movie came out I was in 7th Heaven. Both of my all-time fantasies fastened together all in one tremendous story. I loved it! Flying cars and time travel all in one delicious Delorean package!

I read numerous science fiction novels over the years.  (Funny, I rarely read fiction nowadays. It's mostly alternative news and scientific journals. I gave up on the mainstream media years ago.)

Science fiction gave me a picture of what could be. Yet somewhere in the back of my mind was the idea that science fiction writers actually gave present day scientists ideas from which to spring their goals and experiments.

Take for example the Star Trek "Enterprise". Scientists HAVE been using some of its aspects to model ideas of warp drive. That's just one example.

Rod Serling was my first sci-fi love. Then came Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein. But first and foremost is and always will be Gregory Benford. He wrote TIMESCAPE, a novel about backward messages in time due to a now half-proven particle called a "tachyon".

                                GREGORY BENFORD'S NOW CLASSIC "TIMESCAPE"


WHAT ARE TACHYONS?                   TACHYONS EXPLAINED MATHEMATICALLY  *

        

When I would hear a jet's loud boom over head I would always ask myself, "If scientists have broken the "sound barrier" then why can't they break the "light barrier"?

                                 
                                                                     Copyright 2016                         Photo Credit: C. Clark

I didn't understand Einstein's theory of relativity until early adulthood. But once, working temporarily at a major pharmaceutical firm, in the computer programming department, I tried discussing the theory of General Relativity with college grads around me, and not a single one could intelligently discuss Einstein's major accomplishment.

Despite the fact that most physicists believe the Speed of Light is constant, and doesn't change I always told myself that Einstein was wrong. The speed of light CAN CHANGE. It's all relative! No pun intended! Scientists have since found out that the speed of light is variable, although most people haven't read enough on the topic to even realize it.

"Tachyon searches could be produced from high-energy particle collisions," * as in the Large Hadron Collider, on the border between France and Switzerland.

This is even more pertinent since CERN has discovered the elusive "God Particle" - the Higgs Boson. And one of CERN's leaders has been publicly recorded as saying they want to open "portals" between dimensions. Now, isn't that a tad dangerous? Could be...

          A PORTAL OPENS IN THE SKY ABOVE SWITZERLAND

          CERN SCIENTISTS HOPE TO OPEN PORTAL TO PARALLEL UNIVERSE

           HOW CERN PLANS TO USE THE LARGE HADRON COLLIDER TO OPEN PORTALS...

       

When my son Victor was a child I found the inexpensive way to treat him to a "day at the movies" was to go to the afternoon matinee. My son and I shared the joy of watching all three  BACK TO THE FUTURE films together over the years. But I will never forget the feeling of horror in the pit of my stomach when the license plate from Doc's Delorean whirled on the railroad tracks. Time Traveling car smashed to pieces - never to fly again. I almost cried. My flying car died!

Victor loved the first movie so much that as a young boy he memorized large portions of the script. He and I would say the dialogue back and forth together just for fun. He would play Marty and I would play Doc. Of course, I had always wanted to be a scientist. Only natural!

That movie became the launching pad for my research into a variety of developing technologies over the years that could fit the bill of making time travel come true. 

On one hot summer's trip to Universal Studios in Orlando, I rode the "Back To The Future" ride six times in a row. Why? Well I DID love the ride. But that wasn't the reason. I was obsessed with writing down the names of all the books on Time Travel on the bookshelves in the alcove-holding room, right before passengers hopped onto the ride's cars. It took six rides to have enough time to get most of the pertinent titles and authors written on a park brochure.

From childhood to adulthood I constantly tried to keep up with accounts of as many developing technologies as possible, hoping to find some bearing on the time space continuum. Being a naturally extremely curious individual, I paid attention to even the most esoteric developments. Loving to read made this pure delight, anyway. My desire to time travel grew!

Beginning in the year 2000, having purchased my first computer, I doubled up on my research. I started reading about any scientist researching any discipline that could even faintly touch  aspects related to the time space continuum. Scientific paper after paper became one stepping stone after another. 

I knew from my research that "black ops" were a fact. Edward Snowden's revelations about governmental black ops projects paid for with American tax dollars, were anti-climactic after what my studies had revealed: Anti-propulsion vehicles, the Casimir Effect, Closed Time-Like Curves, Frame Dragging...

      EDWARD SNOWDEN UNCOVERED MASSIVE GOVERNMENT SECRETS, INCLUDING EXISTENCE OF "BLACK OPS"

No wonder it is said that there is at the minimum $300 million missing from Pentagon accounting books. One Pentagon official admits they could actually hide $48 B-i-l-l-i-o-n (on secret projects) and the American public would be none-the-wiser.

            THE PENTAGON MUST CERTAINLY BE HIDING SOMETHING!


Why is it portholes are being observed opening up in the skies around the world, along with some other mighty strange phenomena? 

Charles Bennett, working at IBM with lasers in the 1980's made entanglement breakthroughs in Quantum Computing that may have cracked the time-space barrier wide open! In 2009, a photograph next to his picture on his IBM stats from the 1990's shows a very distinct porthole opening up in the skies above the trees...near his laboratory???  

 READ MY BOOK: "I FELL FOR PARIS" FOR MORE INFO! (IT WILL BE AVAILABLE SOON ON THE TWO WEBSITES AT THE END OF THIS ARTICLE.)


Why too, would a porthole open over the sky above Tromso, Norway, in 2009, the very day that an American president was in that region to collect his Nobel Peace Prize? Happenstance? Helpenstance? Or Frankenstance?


There is an area in the region of Paris where time slips are said to occur, near a famous palace. Two individuals with impeccable credentials experienced what appeared to be a time slip phenomenon about a hundred years ago. The follow up research they did made their separate testimonies about the incident seem absolutely credible. People have tried to debunk their stories. But I have always trusted academics. Okay...well until recently with the Common Core Curriculum...that kind of finished it for me.


                                       THE MOBERLY-JOURDAIN INCIDENT


But my father's sisters were school teachers and college professors, so they have always been role models for me. So I tend to trust what they have to say. That is why I am convinced that I must return to Paris. For scientific purposes. To perform an experiment. To see if the two Oxford academicians' experience can be duplicated under the right conditions.

When I travel...I really plan to t-r-a-v-e-l. Until next T-I-M-E....I still love Paris!


www.ifellforparis.com   and www.coleenclarkauthor.com sites COMING SOON!




AH CHERI - MON PARIS DELICIEUSE! Part I

                                          Copyright 2015                                                       Photo Credit: C.Clark

So often unenlightened Americans say...I wouldn't go to Paris because I would never eat frog legs! At least several people have said that to me when I told them I wanted to go to Paris!


Frog legs are not on the top of my menu agenda, either. However, there are lots of other foods in Paris to love without ever having to venture near amphibious waters!


My opinion has always been framed by the knowledge that Le Cordon Bleu cooking school, the most famous in the world, originated in Paris. Le Cordon Bleu chefs always seemed to win top honors and always were connected with Michelin Stars. The top chefs had a record of attending Le Cordon Bleu at least as far back as I can remember. The words "Three Stars" and "gourmet" always seemed to go hand in hand with Le Cordon Bleu. I dreamed about it for years.


Both of my Pennsylvania German grandmothers were tremendous cooks. Grandma Yocum specialized in pies, doughnuts, schnitzel, among other dishes. After all she had twelve children to cook for! And she far preferred her old coal stove to her electric any day of the week.


My mother's mother excelled in every dish there could possibly be. When her family wanted candy - it was home-made! Far be it from Grandma Miller to buy a bag of manufactured potato chips. No! No! No! She made her own in a little wire rack. They had to be the crispest, freshest, heavenly potato chips on earth.


And pot pie...not the kind with vegetable- filled chicken gravy covered with a pastry topping. Grandma Miller made hand-rolled, thick square noodles, cooked fresh in a chicken gravy stewing for hours from a chicken carcass. Nothing could be wasted in Grandma Miller's kitchen. Her custards were divine. Her cakes and frostings ethereal. Her roast beef, pork roast, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, freshly grown garden vegetables...and oh yes...her dandelion salad with hot sweet and sour bacon dressing, prepared me for a romance with food that I thought was native only to the French.


When I lived in Florida, I was impressed by the fine building where the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale sat, knowing it was a cooking school But, while managing an office park in Miami, where I had heard that the first Le Cordon Bleu in America would be situated, I was ecstatic! I even thought about quitting my commercial property manager job and becoming a chef....pastry chef that is! My dream lasted as long as it took me to find out that each year's course was about $25,000.


But I did get to tour the facility as soon as it was built, then up and running. I could hardly breathe as I was led on a private tour, past the classrooms, past kitchens and past the pastry! And what pastry! Glorious spun-sugar creations of all colors and shapes sat atop the crème-de-la-crème of cakes! The chefs tall hats made me so jealous! I wanted to be on the other side of the glass, artfully designing pastries too beautiful to eat.


So the years whirled by. After spending a decade and a half in South Florida, I finally migrated to the Midwest. Downhome cooking there. Since the local penchant entails sauerkraut and cabbage-laced sandwiches, I felt quite at home. Though I had never heard of chili served with cinnamon rolls before.


Then my son entered the scene with the offer to knock my number one bucket list item off the charts! To go to Paris. Yes. I wanted French pastries! Every last one I could get my chubby, chocolate covered hands on! The trip was my Mother's Day gift of 2015. The second-best gift I've ever been given in my life by the first best gift given to me by God - my son!


I went to Paris with very little money. Making only about ten dollars an hour in the hurting American economy after having been a commercial property manager, was very humbling. Worst of all, I had to go to Paris with limited funds. But I did try to find the best pastry shops I could in the area of Paris which we stayed: The First Arrondissment.


By some amazing miracle of God I had gotten my first small income tax rebate check in many years. It was way under a thousand dollars. But it was just enough to have a little spending money, taxi and ticket fares, not to mention a few treats.


My son had been sweet enough to book us into a four star boutique hotel right down the street from the Louvre, on Rue des Pyramides. Hotel Lumen, right by Passage d'Eglise and L'Eglise Saint Roch. Great breakfast buffet.


 If I ever get to go to Paris again and haven't yet become the best-selling, rich writer which I dream of being...if I can't stay at George Cinq (The Four Seasons) then I will gladly stay at L'Hotel Lumen just for their gourmet breakfast buffet, if not for the jazz bands that play every Tuesday and Thursday. Café Oscar with a view of the rear doors of L'Eglise St. Roch provided the parade of everyday Parisian life which I was so eager to observe.



My favorite bakery was the one we found the very first day on the Rue St. Honore. Yannick Martin. That was where I lost my English-speaking virginity. Yes I became a va-va-voom, French speaker! After years and months of practicing my French, the sweet, young bakery man took my order with a pleasant smile, knowing that I was making my best effort to be understood. I adhered to custom and said "Hello" or rather "Bonjour" first. Then we started negotiations for his objects of beauty. Soon to fulfill my heart's and mouth's desires.

                                                        Copyright 2015                                                  Photo Credit: C. Clark

Would it be strawberry napoleons? Chocolate custard-filled tarts? Lemon sponge cakes? Mille-fuilles? Rum soaked babas? Or simple French croissants? Wait. Did I say simple? I meant butter-laden, crisp yet delicate-layered delights. Yes. That's what I meant to say.


But for our first meal in mon cher Paris, I ordered us both sandwiches that looked like American hoagies, submarines, grinders - according to whatever part of the United States you live in. Unlike in the U.S. they come without mayonnaise. With or without butter are the choices. With or without vegetables -meaning lettuce, tomato, etc. Then of course with or without meat. The order was a success! We ate our crispy-crunchy bread filled with sumptuous meat and enjoyed the sun-laced Paris morning on the steps of the Church of Saint Rock.


Men, women and children rode by on scooters. Not motor scooters. Not roller blades as one would see in South Beach, Florida. The kind of manual motor scooter I rode on as a child in the 1960's. Grown men rode them...okay...young men. Muscular young men unafraid of broken bones.


One mother helped her little girl lift her scooter up the steps of the church as they climbed them to attend the service in what became the most exquisite edifice I had ever seen. My son and I enjoyed the light breeze, which explained why the French always wear their scarves. We settled back to try to overcome our jet lag while the hotel next door prepared our rooms.

Our first day in Paris the sky drizzled rain. We scooted out and around the raindrops. Went to a bookstore selling English books. I bought a brand new French dictionary to replace my tattered LaRousse of thirty years usage. But oh....I found a book on how to make French pastries. I recently changed apartments and can't find the box it is in, but I will update this entry with the title as soon as I find it! I figured having a book teaching me how to make patisserie was far more productive than spending years trying to gather the $25,000. to take the Le Cordon Bleu course!

Macarons are the first thing I want to learn to make. After I practice on some of the other recipes, I plan to have a ladies' tea party, for my friends here in the United States. I had to sell my beautiful rose-covered tea set when I was out of work in Florida. I had bought it especially for the purpose of inviting my friends to a real English-style tea! Consisting of course of not scones and watercress sandwiches - but French pastries! But since then I've cobbled together a variety of pretty china cups by keeping an eagle eye out for them at the Good Will store.

One thing I long to learn to make is Charlotte Russe. Ever heard of it? The recipes I have read for it over the years didn't seem to match what I viewed as the finished production from a famous hotel.

When I worked in downtown Houston, over thirty years ago, I used to go to Le Meridian Hotel on occasion. They had a remarkable French bakery where they had the most amazing treat called "Charlotte Russe". It was shaped like a pie, but almost tasted like cake. If memory serves, there were ladyfingers around the edges, a sort of creamy raspberry filling. The company I worked for in downtown Houston often ordered them for employee birthday parties. I believe you could order them in different flavors - but my favorite was the raspberry filling! So that would definitely be something to serve at my tea party.

But back to Paris mes amis!

The first evening my son and I happened by a very famous cafe. The name rang a bell in my head: Cafe de La Paix. I sort of thought it was a famous landmark. But I didn't know until I got home to the States and looked it up that so many famous French writers used to hang out there: Guy de Maupassant was one - you know the famous French short-story writer?

Copyright 2015             Photo Credit: V.A.C.


Turns out that Cafe de La Paix is also a French national historic site. A radio studio once inhabited the restaurant where a program "This Is Paris" was broadcast to the U.S.A.

                                                 https.://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cafe_de_la_Paix


Again I tested my less than confident French-speaking wings. The waitress understood me fine when I ordered Monte Cristo sandwiches for my son and I. Catch was - I didn't quite understand her, at first. When I asked for water she kept mentioning a man named Gus. I finally figured out she was asking if I wanted the water carbonated or not. I laughed at myself for taking a few seconds to get it. Our meal was okay. Noting stupendous. Very expensive.

It was appropriate to have eaten at the Cafe of Peace our first night in Paris. My son and I had been apart for many years - filled with either discord or empty silence. As we walked back to the L'Hotel Lumen my eyes filled with grateful tears, matching the falling rain around us. My son and I could be close again. I was so happy.


STAY TUNED FOR PART II OF "AH CHERI - MON PARIS DELICIEUSE!