the view from here

i can recall on one hand the number of times my breath has literally been taken away, watching my first film about the holocaust, seeing the gardens in versailles for the first time, the opera house in prague, watching natalie wood as maria in west side story, and now i can add emerging from the abbey at the top level of mont st michel in france. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX mt st michel is a mountain in the middle of a lake in the northwest of france near avranche, whose tallest point stands 400m high. the idea for its creation came to a priest in a dream. he was visited by saint michael as an angel who told him to build him an abbey. the priest obeyed and after years of work a masterpiece emerged from the rockface. hundreds of bricks placed by hand, winding pathways and small cottages lining the way up. it was originally inhabited by some benedictine monks who cloistered themselves there, translating scripture. it soon became a sight of pilgrimage for catholics from around the world, eager to have their souls cleansed by st michel before judgement day in heaven. apparently people would wait weeks outside, some drowning on their way from shore when the tides came in unexpectedly. even today we saw a group of pilgrims marching across the bottom of the barren lake at low tide. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX from a distance it appears to be a disney like concoction of a castle, mysterious and monolithic sitting proudly in the middle of an otherwise entirely flat landscape in all directions. you can see how in the middle ages it would have seemed like an oasis of sorts, a truly mystical place. the architecture was completed over a long period so both roman and gothic styles can be found. they actually invented the vaulted ceilings and technique of using buttresses that the gothic style is famous for. apparently they were boat builders and just borrowed the structure they would have used for the bottom of a boat as a guide. because it is a unesco protected site it is incredibly well maintained, the granite gleaming and airy. the result is that you feel opened by the space rather than dwarfed or oppressed by it as you do in other castles from the same era. it was untouched during the hundred years war and was used as a prison in the eighteenth century by napoleon. these two factors saw fortification walls and watchtowers erected, changing the aesthetic once again. now, some monks and nuns help maintain the grounds and worship there. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the abbey itself is unadorned, sparse, the colour from the once stained glass, faded. its freeing to be rid of the copious ornamentation i have seen in most other churches in the centre of paris. so much of what i have studied is more tangible now. can see how wealth invested in churches to glorify the patron would have outraged the poor whose stomachs rumbled from hunger as they attended mass. can see how the churches were also meeting places for business, cultural events, that the more ornate are clear signs of a time when church and state were intimately intertwined.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the view from the terrace just outside of the abbey is what took my breath away, immediately the universe opens up to you, there is nothing but sky in all directions, the wind, moist, is scented with sea water that awakens your senses, in every direction a new landscape reveals itself to you. to the north a sea bed with a small island, to the east marshy ground a million shades of green and farmland and fields dotted with trees, to the south and east sand, and more sand blendly seemlessly with the water just beyond. its so pure, so untainted by mans clumsy fingerprints that you immediately understand what it means to be at peace. so incredible, really, its immediately comforting, relaxing, pleasing.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX was four and a half hour drive both ways so am very sleepy but very satisfied. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX went to musee de carnavalat yesterday. was free for all citizens and tourists. great exhibition of history of france from gauls to modern day. artifacts from french revolution and reign of terror were amazing. saw paintings of marie antoinette and louis the sixteenth being beheaded to cheering crowds, saw uniforms of soldiers, saw medals soldiers, jacobins, wore, saw the famous red touques , read a hand painted version of the declaration of the rights of man, the constitution drawn up in the badminton court at versailles during the revolution. so much blood spilled for years. was interesting to see paintings of the construction of the louvre, new bridges, the tuileries etc. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX cant believe its almost over, just two more days before i am off to italy (and less computer access). bonne nuit.

the view from here

i can recall on one hand the number of times my breath has literally been taken away, watching my first film about the holocaust, seeing the gardens in versailles for the first time, the opera house in prague, watching natalie wood as maria in west side story, and now i can add emerging from the abbey at the top level of mont st michel in france. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX mt st michel is a mountain in the middle of a lake in the northwest of france near avranche, whose tallest point stands 400m high. the idea for its creation came to a priest in a dream. he was visited by saint michael as an angel who told him to build him an abbey. the priest obeyed and after years of work a masterpiece emerged from the rockface. hundreds of bricks placed by hand, winding pathways and small cottages lining the way up. it was originally inhabited by some benedictine monks who cloistered themselves there, translating scripture. it soon became a sight of pilgrimage for catholics from around the world, eager to have their souls cleansed by st michel before judgement day in heaven. apparently people would wait weeks outside, some drowning on their way from shore when the tides came in unexpectedly. even today we saw a group of pilgrims marching across the bottom of the barren lake at low tide. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX from a distance it appears to be a disney like concoction of a castle, mysterious and monolithic sitting proudly in the middle of an otherwise entirely flat landscape in all directions. you can see how in the middle ages it would have seemed like an oasis of sorts, a truly mystical place. the architecture was completed over a long period so both roman and gothic styles can be found. they actually invented the vaulted ceilings and technique of using buttresses that the gothic style is famous for. apparently they were boat builders and just borrowed the structure they would have used for the bottom of a boat as a guide. because it is a unesco protected site it is incredibly well maintained, the granite gleaming and airy. the result is that you feel opened by the space rather than dwarfed or oppressed by it as you do in other castles from the same era. it was untouched during the hundred years war and was used as a prison in the eighteenth century by napoleon. these two factors saw fortification walls and watchtowers erected, changing the aesthetic once again. now, some monks and nuns help maintain the grounds and worship there. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the abbey itself is unadorned, sparse, the colour from the once stained glass, faded. its freeing to be rid of the copious ornamentation i have seen in most other churches in the centre of paris. so much of what i have studied is more tangible now. can see how wealth invested in churches to glorify the patron would have outraged the poor whose stomachs rumbled from hunger as they attended mass. can see how the churches were also meeting places for business, cultural events, that the more ornate are clear signs of a time when church and state were intimately intertwined.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the view from the terrace just outside of the abbey is what took my breath away, immediately the universe opens up to you, there is nothing but sky in all directions, the wind, moist, is scented with sea water that awakens your senses, in every direction a new landscape reveals itself to you. to the north a sea bed with a small island, to the east marshy ground a million shades of green and farmland and fields dotted with trees, to the south and east sand, and more sand blendly seemlessly with the water just beyond. its so pure, so untainted by mans clumsy fingerprints that you immediately understand what it means to be at peace. so incredible, really, its immediately comforting, relaxing, pleasing.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX was four and a half hour drive both ways so am very sleepy but very satisfied. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX went to musee de carnavalat yesterday. was free for all citizens and tourists. great exhibition of history of france from gauls to modern day. artifacts from french revolution and reign of terror were amazing. saw paintings of marie antoinette and louis the sixteenth being beheaded to cheering crowds, saw uniforms of soldiers, saw medals soldiers, jacobins, wore, saw the famous red touques , read a hand painted version of the declaration of the rights of man, the constitution drawn up in the badminton court at versailles during the revolution. so much blood spilled for years. was interesting to see paintings of the construction of the louvre, new bridges, the tuileries etc. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX cant believe its almost over, just two more days before i am off to italy (and less computer access). bonne nuit.

la peinture est plus forte que moi. elle me fait faire ce qu elle veut

in english this means: the drive to paint is stronger than i am, it makes me do what it wants. this fantastic little inspirational quote was taken from a postcard written in picassos handwriting which is underneath a photo of him wearing a woven, enlarged bulls head and smoking a cigarette, shirtless. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX i bought it yesterday while at the picasso museum which contains literally hundreds of his paintings, sketches, sculptures and photos. they were all acquired by the government who got them in exchange for back taxes he owed. the sheer volume of the collection is almost as striking as the pieces themselves. leaving the museum the take home message is that a true artisit is creating all of the time. by including studies and doodles drawn on scrap, pieces painted on broken earthenware, you see that for picasso, the act of making art was not a religious, ceremonial pursuit conducted solely in a studio. this led to a true integration of a human touch that allows the viewer to participate more fully in the experience somehow. as i wandered through the rooms and saw the humour and playfullness in his experimental work i found myself adding him to a list of the people, living or dead, whom id like to have dinner with. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX another quote i read was : if you already know what you are going to do then what is the point of doing it...instinctively my structured self started coming up with valid justifications and then i looked into the playful eyes of the man pictured above the phrase and let myself soak up what this mischevious man with 3 floors worth of work surrounding him had to say. this has forever been my struggle creatively. i edit as i go. before the thought has even finished formulating i am redirecting and reshaping it. art has to be process over product most of the time. yes, product is eventually the thing that you will share with the world but the quality of the product is limited to your willingness to break it apart and see what you can do with the component parts, to see if you can breathe live into them and give them their own voice. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the willingness to create so much that it can easily be thrown away is freeing too. readjusting your eyes so that you can see something in everything, everywhere is liberating too. its a sensibility that i indulge in in my own time, but given the amount of mental energy and multitasking i do in my day job, its not something i can devote myself to entirely. look at that an excuse. interesting... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX finding the museum itself is incredibly challenging. i swear it is the bermuda triangle of paris! literally spent 40 minutes in a 200m radius trying to find the bloody thing. can imagine picasso having a good laugh about it from his resting place. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX afterward i went to a free concert for strings at the madeleine. its a church that napoleon had built in a greco-roman style, numerous large columns, gold piping and marble everywhere. quite stunning, altarpiece is incredibly dramatic. was me and a group of the greyhaired with a tired tourist thrown in every once and awhile for good measure. as they were setting up i realized it was going to be a group of school kids ranging in age from about ten to 17 id say. i was a bit disappointed thinking it would be a dumbed down version of the classics. once again i was wrong. these kids, from wheaton outside of chicago were phenomenal. each one of them a virtuoso in their own right. there was no conductor and each child would take a turn being the lead player that would count them in and signal the beginning of a new form. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX one of the most stunning pieces was a (going to spell it phonetically because i have never seen in written) shastakovich piece. very tim burton, entirely creepy and otherworldly. was incredibly complex. again, i found myself and my work being trumped by people half my age. knew that only got there because of the discipline and commitment that i simply do not have. i love too many things and become restless with too much repetition of any creative or intellectual endeavour. wasnt defeated this time. was instead taking in the reality that the only way that i am going to become truly great is to become truly committed. that it is within my grasp if i choose to make it so. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX finished my book suite francaise. balled my head off. the transcripts of the personal correspondence between her and her husband and their friends as they find themselves losing their liberties as jews is heartwrenching. you have to read this! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX am off to the musee carnavalat to learn more about the history of france and to look at some memorabilia from the french revolution. then maybe to cimetaire montparnasse to visit sartre and simone de beauvoirs graves. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX only three days left until italy!

if i were aboard the starship enterprise this would be one of my hollowdecks

went to bruges today. north american idiot i am i thought it was a translation for brussels. turns out it is a town in its own right at the northern tip of belgium near calais of tale of two cities fame. also near flanders of the famous in flanders fields fame. was wonderful to see poppies growing in the wild in wheat fields, much like the renoir painting. there is much more space between the petals and they are much more flimsy than the replicas we wear on remembrance day in canada. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX alarm went off at 6 am so had an early night last night, caught the sound of fireworks but didnt see them, went to an air show earlier in the day though, flew right over the avenue des armées. tanks, jeeps and soldiers lined all of the avenues around the arc de triomphe, was too far away to see the parade waited an hour for, ah well, i tried. but i digress, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX so bruges. bruges used to be a port city with an active harbour that rivalled venice in its day. wool there used to make tapestries that hung in castles throughout the kingdom (is still a monarchy today, one of the few in the european union) , make lace, grow flax, hops, potoatoes, oil from flaxseed used in development oil paints used in famous flemish painting. very pastoral drive on the way up. a lot of orange roofs and stone wall everywhere. one of the only medieval cities to remain entact, has never been bombed. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX entered across a bridge that had a medieval tower at one end and a view of a canal that opened up to a riverbank with swans and an abbey from the 1600s. picture postcard perfect. the water was still, the willow trees letting down their branches like rapunzel did her golden locks. the abbey was whitewashed as a symbol of purity and the grounds were dead silent, the church on the grounds, where women would pray every four hours even through the night, was spartan and the main colour being white even in the glass windows. interesting to see the stations of the cross depicted in a cartoon like, bright style rather than the harrowing, shadowy realism i am used to. much more mythical and storylike in this interpretation. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX tour guide, obnoxious, couldnt be bothered frenchman who ran ahead of the group at breakneck speed and spoke barely above a whisper gesturing mock helplessly at a jauntily tied scarf round his neck,indicating a cold, was useless. found great company for the day in two young girls one from a small town in australia, and another from london. i say young cause i felt really old, was nine years older than the oldest! anyhoo, crossed another bridge into the hub of town where restaurants had tables that spilled onto the cobblestone streets. in the winding streets, littered with chocolatiers, lace makers and nik nak shops,each with its own fingerprint and unique charm, the sound of horses hooves could be heard, each confidently leading a carriage. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX we wove our way to the old church, finished in 1107, which took 200 years to complete, all made of brick, and then boarded a boat for a canal cruise. had a fantastic boatman as our guide.wonderful sense of humour and a great passion for his work. quoted literature, pointed out unique points of interest and gave us informative details the whole way through. was so romantic. water was calm and the sides of the waterways were lined with delicate flowers, lush trees and homes with stepped facades reminiscent of those in amsterdam, shutters over the windows, iron detailing and statues of the madonna and child craftily placed (very catholic town). couldnt get over the quiet. no street sounds, no advertisements, no unecessary signs, the visual landscape was stripped bare of words and neon, very rustic. had the effect of being immediately calming. having been in paris, teeming with people at all hours of the day and night in all arrondisments, its scaled back, quiet offerings were the equivalent of being in a sensory deprivation chamber which only excluded the sense of noxious sound. incredible. would be perfect place to make peace with yourself, write a novel... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX people were very warm and friendly, all spoke english and french well even though it is a flemish area. went to an open air market. some junk, some nice handiwork. then went to lunch at a modern restaurant with clean lines, airy layout and great food. was called loretto i believe... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX next went to buy chocolate as gifts for those at home, though some have started to melt already...bought some chocolate dipped waffles, so saccharin! then went to a lace shop and got a great black lace fan, very anna karenina.love it. next wandered to look at a gallery and down some sidestreets we had not yet explored. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX was fantastic gem of a place that i would highly recommend. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX saw 2 days in paris yesterday at a theatre on the champs elysee. nine euro ! was interesting to see it with a parisien audience. able to laugh at themselves easily. was great to see it from the other point of view. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX planning on a simple day tomorrow then to a vivaldi string concert tomorrow night!

le soleil, le soleil que j adore le soleil!

not only can i write titles again, it was sunny today! i wanted to make like a british child star a la chitty chitty bang bang and sream Hooray! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the moment that i saw the sky turn to blue i got dressed, grabbed my journal and headed for the tuileries (a park right in between la place du concorde-former sight of the guillotine and the area that the cyclists pass during la tour de france, and the palais du louvre, famous art gallery). i chose this locale particularly because in university i read simone de beauvoirs biography and she often used to go there as a child. she was one of the early existentialist writers and lived in paris for awhile during the occupation. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX have been writing on and off, notes and thoughts really and today started to rewrite passages and shape them. went well, was pleased that my thoughts came readily. while i had applied sunscreen liberally to my face, i had neglected to do so for my arms and legs. as a result i now have bright pink arms and legs (pink on one side, that is, the other is a nice milky white). despite the glares i got on the metro, i am glad to have felt the sun on my skin (and continue to in its absence, my legs are literally emanating heat as i type). XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX after my cliché auteur moment in the public park, i went to buy a ticket for the ballet this evening. i wanted to go for two reasons. the first was that the ballet was created fourteen days before the revolution and is rarely performed in reperatory companies. its called la fille mal gardée and follows a young woman, cinderella like in her duties on the farm, her solitude and her existence under the watchful eye of an overprotective mother. she falls in love with a village boy but is arranged to be married to a wealthy boy she does not love. it was highly comedic and simple, no real obstacles presented. a lot of folk dance forms and bit of choreography intertwined as was set in the countryside. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx the second reason that i wanted to go was because it was taking place at the opera house in the centre of the city. its so prominent that it sits at the centre of about 6 or so streets that emanate outward from it. it has marble columns, gold statues, a grand staircase (think the one from titanic, make it wider and add more statues and gold) and to get to my seat i had to go through a private door to a box i shared with five others lined with burgandy floral velvet wallpaper, a chaise, a mirror, a coat rack and wonderful velvet seats. it was on the first balcony and only one other person showed up (a really sweet french professor visiting from russia)so we got to sit at the front of the box. the interior was over the top. columns midway through the semicircle created special boxes with velvet curtains and statues, the gold was musted and stately and the ceiling was adorned with a mural by marc chagall. he did it in 1964, looked otherworldly and almost garish compared to the old world décor elsewhere. bright blues, yellows and pink-reds which depicted scenes from famous ballets or portraits of composers.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx loved the opportunity to dress up and to be among other art enthusiasts. really are an educated and appreciative crowd, les parisiens. loved imagining the people who had shared my seat at one time or another. i believe it was originally constructed in 1669. blows my mind. once again the idea that these gorgeous interiors clung to life as wars of all stripes raged on outside its walls is mindboggling.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX its bastille day tomorrow. am going to try to jostle for a spot on the champs elysées to see the parade from the arc de triomphe to place de la concorde. should be celebrations well into the evening. cant wait!

and so, just as the wafer thin morsel drove the gluttonous mans stomach to explode in monty pythons meaning of life, so too did my desire to have just one more song prove to be my undoing.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX went to another jazz jam tonight. was truly on the fence all day. my hair looked like crap and i was having shoe dilemmas, all signs that i should have left well enough alone, but alas...went out to a place called the swan in the montparnasse area. have never really ventured out that way before. huge boulevards and great restaurants, very lived in kind of feel. when i arrived i was the only person there besides the bartender, the owner a singer and a pianist. thought that she was going to be the animatrice for the evening but it turns out that it was her gig and i had misread the time of the jam by 2 hours. i was a half an hour late as it was so that made an hour and a half of time to kill. all signs were telling me to just pack it up and go home but something in me stayed. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX i chatted with the bartender a bit. her accent was a bit anglosized but i couldnt quite catch the origin. she had a pixie punk hairdo and a silver starburst painted on her right cheek near her eye, late twenties, early thirties. the owner, a pushy jewish american expat with a mel lastman like hair piece and an old suit was ordering the bartender to make him a new drink he had read about whose main ingredient was a bubblegum flavoured liquer. she rolled her eyes at him but obliged in a way that said she had been there awhile. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the singer had a great tone, didnt take a lot of risks vocally but chose tunes that sat nicely in her range. after having listened to my exchanges with the bartender the owner turned to me and asked if i spoke english (little bit of a crush to my french abilities but my accent and phraseology really does suck when i am tired, its plodding and flat) he said that everyone there was english so why not just switch and be comfortable. turns out the bartender was from scotland but had been in paris for thirteen years. she is a painter and a drummer and has aspirations to sing but hasnt worked up the courage. i heard her singing along with the vocalist and she had a great voice. i encouraged her to take the plunge. little did i know that i was going to end up epitomizing all of the things she feared would happen to her on stage... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx lyon, the owner said that he taught at the university for years. political science and american history. just bought the bar a couple of years ago. was very dynamic, shook hands with everyone who came in the door, a more polished version of ben stillers dad. he said he was concerned about the direction that politics in the states are leaning. we chatted about michael moore and afghanistan a bit. so interesting when you peel back the layers... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX when the jam session musicians arrived they introduced themselves and made me feel very welcome. i was practically one of the family at this point, no other patrons yet...the pianist was a more latin, hefty looking robert de niro, prominent mole on the cheek and all. was a sparse, classical player that was pretty structured in his approach. bass player had a ponytail, an electric stand up bass that he had tailor made. as more people arrived i was the first to sing. sang im a fool to want you. no diversions this time so went over very well. felt comfortable and got some good feedback. the other people there were pretty inexperienced with a couple of exceptions. so great that people take risks in such unfamiliar territory. it would be like me stepping up to pitch a game of baseball! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX was impressed by the way everyone sang in english. songs sounded so cute with the french accent at times. was a young girl with a great spirit and good ear. couple of other girls there travelling together that were in some kind of vocal jazz collective, had pretty solid stuff. because there were so few of us, we got to do another tune. again, i was first on the roster, did lullaby of birdland. piano player was a bit anxious about playing it in my key so i offered to do it in another that would be more simple for him. yes, for him. for me...not so much. i had a rough start but found my groove and although i was singing in my boots i got through the first run alright. because the others were finding their way as well, they were reluctant to solo, feeling the tune sag i came back in , a little to early for the chorus to pick things up again, scatted my way in atrociously and ended in the most random, bizarre, god awful way possible, i was dying. it was like watching a train wreck and i because of the odd key i had no vocal ideas to get myself out of it. blech. the thought of it makes me cringe. still, people clapped politely. my prior reputation tarnished significantly. even the inexperienced ones had to be kind with their applause. did i not say that fate would intervene and kick me in the ass if i got greedy...XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXso funny, was the second time today that i was humbled. went to the virgin superstore on the champs elysées and bought the new amy winehouse cd and the madelaine peyroux. when i put on the winehouse i literally lost my breath. this chick kicks butt. just when i was thinking that i could make a go of it myself and that i was making real strides as a performer...am loving the feist cd as well. listen to it at least twice daily. the songwriting is sublime. feel pretty cut down. reality checks, though useful and grounding make you incur a few scrapes along the way. am going to try not to abandon my own efforts to create and to carve my own space but will likely not sing here as a soloist again before i go. (i was invited to a sing along at the swan next thursday where everyone gets lyrics to common arias and folk tunes and sings the night away, love it!)XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX cant get over the warm reception i have been getting from the musical community here. dont feel awkard or out of place at all. wonder if i would be as open if the shoe was on the other foot...XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX read a good chunk of the novel suite francaises today. its incredible. was written by a well known parisien writer in the early 1940s during the war. existed in the form of two different stories in unedited manuscript form. the author was jewish and captured and sent to auschwitz and died there before it could be published. a woman found the manuscript, edited it and translated it and kept her observations alive. so incredible...the urgency to write about our experience seems intrinsic.XXXXXXXXXX a demain.

its beginning to feel alot like christmas...i sang at another club tonight! this is fantastic! am having the experience, performance wise, that i had hoped for. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX despite another cold and rainy day where i meandered, confidently at first, and then in complete bewilderment, for two and a half hours today, i decided to take another crack at singing here. i had made a commitment to myself to check out a vocal jazz jam that i had read about it my handy dandy Pariscope. my impulse was to snuggle my soggy self into the couch and start my new novel. after having sung already, i didnt want to be greedy and tempt fate. thought for sure that if i kept going back for more time at the mic that tragedy and missteps would ensue.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX thankfully i got over myself and just started walking toward the metro. the club in question was in the sorbonne area in the latin quarter. it was a good fifteen minute walk from the metro stop and i walked past my familiar haunts going into unknown, unpopulated, but safe, monied and clean territory. when i arrived i was half an hour into the scheduled start time. as a musician myself i know to tack on half an hour to an hour to so called start times in clubs. the place was called café universal. had black and white tiles, dark lighting and jazz paraphenalia all around. very lived-in and homey.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX bartender was friendly and were barely any people there. took a seat in the first row and tried to get myself sorted. read the posters, many of which were in english, verified fact that would be opportunity to go up and sing. there was a tall woman with a stylish afro already seated. there was a woman singing tunes on the tv somebody russell, totally cheesy choices. the barman loved it. i worried that i would be in for a night of heartfelt karaoke. she asked me if i knew the woman and we started to chat. she heard my english accent and told me she used to live in connecticut and she recently moved back to paris, grew up here. was very warm and open. soon another woman came by and heard us speaking english (one of the rare times i gave myself permission to go-anglo) and introduced herself. she was a fashion writer for a gossip mag in australia. very open and friendly, she soon joined us and we chatted until the show started. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX before the show i checked my wallet to pay for my drink and i realized that in changing purses to match my outfit i forgot to transfer the ten euro i had planned to cover the nights expenses. stepped out to find a bank machine (coverd a three block radius) and for about the millionth time since i have been here, found myself at a loss. its positively bizarre that a city bursting at the seems with opportunity to consume goods has so few opportunities to withdraw money! en tout cas...decided to just charge it instead and returned to the club. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX so we are about to begin and a woman comes by and tells me that i am in her spot. i protest and indicate that my wine is there and she says she left some things to mark her place. there was a hat there when i first arrived but...she started to explain that she had to be there and her boyfriend, situated beside me wasnt going anywhere either. pissed, i moved but communicated body language wise that i was not happy about it. my auzzie friend,glynis, had also been transplanted during my quest for a bank machine so i joined her. moments later i would discover that she was co-hosting the evening...zut alors! pretty quick karma i would sayXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX the other host for the evening was a man formerly from martinique named marc. had the funky shades, a jazzy vibe and a velvet voice that when scatting sounded trumpet like. sublimely talented and adept at making us all feel the vibe he was the perfect host. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX after he did a tune and my seat taker co-host pixie woman did her own little ditty i was first to be called up. i didnt have charts with me but i did have the piano and vocals on sheet music. the piano player, young guy, curly hair, glasses and beard, no drama, pretty straightforward kind of chap took a quick look and then gave it to the bass player. i did the song im a fool to want you. they started super crazy slow allowing me to really savour every note. had never done it that way before and gave me more time to play with phrases. was in good voice for most of the tune and tried to innovate when came back in for the b section but faltered a little before rescuing myself but got a great response from the crowd.could have heard a pin drop. saw lots of smiles as i looked out and had a number of people come up to me afterward to congratulate me. so incredible to have a tool that translates across an ocean. feel lucky that was able to connect with the other musicians and with the crowd so effortlessly. the universality of the musical language seems like a kitschy (sp) t-shirt slogan till you find yourself jamming with total strangers and understanding one another as though you had rehearsed for weeks. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX host asked me where i was from and if music was my day job. was flattered, especially given his talent. when tried to pay for my drinks at bar later, the machine wouldnt read my credit card! a man with a group of friends from madrid told me his card wasnt accepted either and not to worry about it. offered to pay for me saying that he really enjoyed my performance, that my voice touched him. so sweet! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX next, glynis got up and did a fantastic rendition of black coffee. deep, smooth as velvet voice and a very intelligent delivery. singing is not her day job either and in between bars when she had a break you could see her humour slip through as she was enjoying, in an out of body way, the fact that she was even up there. then sonya got up, the amero-parisien woman and did a stunning version of jimmy hendrixs hey joe. without guitar and drums she really had to work herself into quite a state to bring it alive but she reached deep and gave an incredibly dramatic performance, beating herself in the chest, rocking a little bit, not in a crazy no-talent and deluding herself kind of way, but in a truly inspired way. this chick had cajones the size of watermelons. i want to be just like her when i grow up. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX then a local guy with a file of charts a russian novel deep, got up and did a tune. he had on a check shirt with a wool pullover, a neat hairstyle and practical glasses. not the most soulful performance but he could scat like nobodys business. later in the evening the host and another local had a scat-off in the middle of a tune, very call and answer in structure and playful. chatted to another couple beside us who were from holland but spoke perfect english then glynis (hate that i cant use apostrophes, is killing me!!) fedora wearing friend tyler, came by. guilty as it was not to be trying to speak french, it was very relaxing...XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX had to leave at quarter to twelve because the last train left at twelve thirty. just made it. girl from holland told me about another jazz jam tomorrow at the swan...do i dare... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX another coup i want to write about. broke down after my two and a half hours of being lost and decided to actually eat in a restaurant. one i wanted to go to was full so went to a creperie next door. havent had one yet and,well, when in rome right...so i was one of only two people there. the crepe was six euro and i asked for some juice and some water. crepe was good, new wheat kind, are getting health conscious about all the white flour they use i guess... anyway, so i ask for the bill and he tells me its fourteen euros! i was stunned. how could water and a juice be eight euro (twelve dollars!) he came and showed me the menu again, he had charged me for the water when i just wanted tap, i even clarified and said naturale, non gaz. anyhoo, i told him that was crazy, that it was insane to charge me that, orange juice was less than the size of an everfresh bottle, i held my ground, i had been speaking french the whole time, he started to speak english, i continued in french to show him i was no foolish tourist and he knocked off the price of the water saying, fine, do what you want, i dont care, dont pay for the water then...so i didnt! yeah me. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxx bon soir, a demain.