Hidden treasures on a Sunday stroll

Ok, so maybe they're not quite "hidden," but somehow Paris always seems to surprise me with it's nooks and crannies. This past weekend, with my visiting partner-in-crime Jared (at his best, see left), I walked more of the Right Bank than I ever have before. Though we started in my neighborhood in the Latin Quarter, we made our way across the river into the Marais, and then continued through the 10th arrondissement, a somewhat undiscovered (to me, at least) slice of the city that has a character all its own. During our long walk, we came across two very special spots:

1) The Marché des Enfants Rouges. Yes, that does translate to the "Market of Red Children," apparently so named for a nearby 17th-century school where the children wore red uniforms. More importantly, however, is the fact that it is the oldest food market in Paris, somewhat hidden from view on a quaint street in the Marais, and that it is a spectacle of all things delicious. It is a covered market, lined not only with stalls of fresh produce and meats but also with vendors selling freshly prepared plates of hot food. Jared and I waited in line for 20 minutes at the "bio" stall for a plate of chicken, rice and grilled veggies.

2) The Canal Saint Martin. And you thought the Seine was the only body of water running through Paris? Wrong. Along the banks of this canal in the 10th arronidissement are charming cafés, wine bars and shops. The area feels offbeat, artsy and slightly forgotten - Jared described it as "bobo" (bourgeois bohemian.) All that aside, the highlight for me was the glass of chardonnay and piece of chocolate cake I ordered at one of the cafés on rue Dieu (and yes, it was heavenly - pun intended.)

New fruits for the New Year

The primary difference between Rosh Hashanah in the United States and Rosh Hashanah in France? Fruit. When I was invited to Friday night dinner by a generous Jewish couple from the American synagogue in Paris, I didn't realize I was in for an education in every fruit known to man from ripe juicy figs to large, seeded green grapes. After all, in the States, we pretty much stick to apples and honey.

But, guess what? Pomegranate seeds go well with honey, too! And so do dates, figs, grapes, cactus (watch out for the prickles!), and jujubes...yes, jujubes. Most of these fruits are native to North Africa, and because a majority of French Jews are of North African origin, they've made their way into Rosh Hashanah ritual. They are each dipped in honey and eaten one by one, with a prayer recited for each, before the main meal is served. Quite an education in French Jewish culture, not to mention obscure fruit vocabulary. L'shanah tovah!

Growing pains

Living in France is a great opportunity for cultural, intellectual and social growth. But this growth comes along with more than a few aches and pains that are largely attributable to the country's notoriously complex bureaucracy. Any American who has lived in France for an extended period of time can tell you stories about the long lines and grouchy fonctionnaires that awaited them when they went to get their carte de séjour, the document that most long-term visitors are required to obtain upon their arrival. (Not to worry, I'll have mine once I present an original copy of my birth certificate along with about 100 other documents - and even then, who really knows.)

The other constant thorn is my side is the apartment search. Paris is no dream town for those of us trying to live on a budget, particularly when it comes to the housing market. It's a constant push and pull between the size of the apartment and its location. So what's better: a (relatively) spacious two-bedroom place surrounded by Chinese food restaurants on the outskirts of town, or a cramped one-bedroom with no oven and a mini-fridge that is just steps away from cafés, bars and charming cobblestone streets? You tell me. Either way, it's going to be hard to leave my little haven in the Latin Quarter (see photos above).

An amazing account from a Times journalist

For those of you who don't know, my job here in Paris consists largely of selling rights to publications around the world to use content from The New York Times. (This is, I have finally figured out, the definition of syndication!) While the work does not really afford much opportunity for me to do my own writing, it does allow me to deal directly with the writing of others - and some pretty amazing writing, in many cases, considering it is the writing of Times journalists and bloggers.

Point being: I figured I would post here when I come across particularly remarkable pieces, even though I am sure many of you are avid readers of The New York Times anyway and do not really need my help. But if you by any chance have not read war reporter Stephen Farrell's recent post on his blog, "At War," it is a must-read. It is a riveting account of his near-death experience in Afghanistan and a sober, humanizing reminder of why we need journalists in war zones - and why it is such a tragedy that they must be there in the first place.

Three good things

I am fortunate to be living for the month of September in one of the most charming neighborhoods in Paris, on a quaint pedestrian passageway that is flanked on both ends by lively, café-filled streets. My apartment is located in the 5th arrondissement, known as the Latin Quarter, which is regarded as the city's intellectual center, having been home historically to many famous literary and philosophical minds - and today to its large student population. While I admit I've had less time to explore than I would like (I spend my days in front a computer in the office), I have discovered three wonderful things about my quartier:

1) The market in Place Monge. Several times a week, vendors of produce, poultry, flowers, fish, cheese and charcuterie flock to the square that is just minutes away from my apartment. This past Sunday, feeling a bit too amateur for the fish or meat stalls, I opted instead for fresh fruits and vegetables and some eggs (see above photo.)

2) Morning runs in the Jardin des Plantes. Imagine this: in less time than it took me to walk from 303 to Pottruck, I can make my way over to the beautiful and expansive botanical gardens that are a focal point of my neighborhood . Needless to say, I have found my morning running spot.

3) Warm evenings in the Place de Contrescarpe. This lovely square at the head of the rue Mouffetard has got to be one of the most pleasant places in the city for a late summer evening drink. Cafés with outdoor tables line the square on all sides - lively, intimate and so French it's almost a cliché.

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog, La Vie en Prose! I have just arrived in Paris, the beautiful and awe-inspiring (but, to be fair, sometimes gray and chilly) city where I will be spending the next ten months. This page will chronicle the moments - both big and small, good and bad - that shape my time here. It will also allow me, through sharing stories, photographs and links, to feel closer to friends and family back home. Please read and comment!