OK, so I went to Paris. I went to Paris in April. And now I'm back home, in the good old US of A, ruminating on the fact that I am not in Paris. It's true that once you've breathed the air there, the rest of the world, even Manhattan, is completely ruined. It saps your will to live. You just gaze up at the urban skyscape, thinking, I should be in a boutique right now. Or building a barricade. Or building in a barricade while in a boutque. And then you remember the macarons.
Macarons are completely different from those coconut concoctions known over here as macaroons. Macarons are two colorful pastry shells filled with creme. They were first cooked up in 19th century Paris by famed patisserie Laduree. And how do they taste? They taste, believe you me, like God exists.
So now I have a problem. I'm back in New York, and I ate all my macarons. Laduree doesn't ship to New York, so I'm deep into research mode to find out if any pastry shops here make the damn things. I mean, they're even better than the Magnolia cupcakes, if such a thing is possible.
And then I found this site, so I calmed down. Slightly. It's the sugar high.
Paris, je te manque!!!
Pleasure, if abbreviated pleasure. We got to go mainly because Air France screwed up my parents' flight back to California last year, and compensated by giving them free tickets. I begged not to be left behind, and my father kindly agreed. It was lots of frenzied rushing around. I kept having this fatalistic feeling that I would never see the city again, so I tried to cram in every last important thing. I found myself at the Friends of the Paris Commune, bemoaning its seemingly random closure, and at Pere Lachaise, and Versailles, and Nicolas Flamel's house (it dates back to 1407 and is the oldest extant private house in Paris) and the gardens of Versailles, and seven museums. In six days. I also spent every cent I possessed, in an attempt to get an internship ready wardrobe, since I'm in the middle of interviewing now.
I do hope you can go soon! It would be wonderful to meet up in Montparnasse and drink ourselves silly while reminiscing...